Total Pageviews

Sunday, 19 January 2014

FIATU FIANGU

Wa wa wa wa!!!!!! Wanasemanga banyarwanda ni wasupa but huyu sasa ni beyond usupa! Gosh! Nilijipata nimemufwata for a kilometre nijue penye anaenda nizubalie hapo nikifanto. Sema kungonga madustbin nikifwata matako ikitingika ting ting! Halafu time naenjoy view heavenly malaika Wangu wa rohoni akaingia kwa MOSQUE. i felt cheated ju hakukua na buibui, nkt. Nikapiga moyo kondele na kuingia pia. Sema kutoa viatu ndo uingia kwa moskeee.... Kumbe kwa mosque madem hukaa 1st floor na gimindume ground floor!!!! I felt cheated twice!! Nikavumilia kukaa hapo 1 hour nikicurse! Sema perfume za mawaria zile za thathe fae. Sema majasho za mandume! Kitu ilinibamba tu ni kuchapa masamo tukiomba(swali) na kuongea kiarabu na kihibrania. After an hour tukatoka. Nikapata nugu imereplace viatu zangu za 4K na slippers. I felt cheated thrice!! Kwani makaka brasa waislamu pia huibiana??? Nkt. Kutafuta kwa ladies nikapata malaika wa mine amelost. Saa hii mimi ndo huyo na trek home miguu tupu bila dem!!! I feel cheated 4 times!!!!! Nkt. Mtu anicheke aone vile nitamuchapa mangotooooo ****hides****

OLD POST FROM ARCHIVES HA HA HA!!! PENARTI’S LOVE EXPERIENCE WITH A PROFFESSINAL MOURNER.

A professional mourner is a human (preferably female), who is hired to create a cryable mood in a funeral: famous in nyanza and western provinces of Kenya. She (sometimes he)is not supposed to talk to anybody happily, eat on the way wen the dead body is ‘traveling’, smile or look happy on the burial day, and worst of all have sex anytime before people shave each, other 3 days after burial. She is also supposed to talk to the body especially wen it is swelling and wen it refuses to move from one destination to the other. We have this professional mourner who was imported into a kikuyu funeral. Am told Gikuyus don’t know how to mourn loudly. She was only thatsi faifu years. Having made all the rituals of the day, she went asteastecally and sat beside the body amid tears. It was nine o’clock past noon. The dini ya msambwa. Legio maria and pende had done a collabo to sing choirs through out the night. Chang’aa business on the other leg was booming like the nose of Mariah Carey. Penarti and I was chewing mugombera and groundnuts and watching out for possible prey. Nothing showed up but for dirty primary school kids who still urinate on bed and never wash underwear. We assumed fate. “This professional mourner can also drink water.” Said pernarti dreamingly. Then punde si punda Pernarti starts mourning. Loudly. He moves around the compound carrying a chang’aa glass mourning in a baritone voice. He praises the dead for five minutes, sneezing in the process. The professional mourner grabbed her role with both legs. She went wea pernarti was to console. From behind, I realized she got enough maskwembe and HAGAment to make a miss western and Nyanza. She comes back holding Pernarti above the arm and amid tears, he winks at me. I instantly jijazia the trick. Pernarti is sexhorrific! He can diggano anything. Did I tell you he once dug a sheep and a cow which was sick from foot and mouth? And yesterday he dug an isikuti dancer who was pouring her monthly tomatosauce without maripoko. Aaai! That is for another day. So they are seated at the corner of the tent and Pernarti is smiling smiling kondooishly at her and she is blushing blushing uncomfortably like a pregnant chameleon(kigeugeu? No kinyonga, yes). She thinks she is cooling him down. Then in a mirror-glimpse he moves closer and lie on her back to be consoled and patted on the back. That is allowed traditionally. Then I see it! Across the darkness, I see pernarti fingers fumbling in her kitenge skirts. The lady uncomfortably move move around. Then in the dark again I see her close her eyes. She has fallen right in his box! In the dark again I see the legs open…open…open…then a sssmmmaaaallll mourn that is covered by the choir that is getting inspired by the smell of tea. Then in the dark again i see the professional mourner stand up and move in the banana plantations. I ran to pernarti and ask him what the pussy is going on. He just ask if I have maripoko and I give him TRUST STUDDED WITH WINGS. He runs into the bananas. The choir continues singing, “kikombe kikubwa ni cha pastor, kikombe kikubwa ni cha pastor.” 30 minutes later, a kid runs into the tent. “Mommy! Mommy!” her mother is a dini ya musambwa choir master(she). “mommy, I have realized that that woman who was crying is an angel! I heard her crying, “oh my God! Jesus! Scratch that thing twice again and move inner and deeper. Oh God! I am coming! I am coming! Hit the thing hard for me to come!’ Had it not been for uncle pernarti sleeping on her and holding her tight and pinning her down on the floor and hitting her with a short, fat snake severally, she could her flown to heaven.” Her mom fainted. “ mommy why are you falling now? You think I am lying? Uncle pernarti then removed the snake from her stomach and peeled off its skin. It then vomited the poison that it had taken from the ladies stomach. Then she started kunakunaring her urinating thing and removed more poison from her stomach. You think I am lying? Lets go and see them.” They all followed her, shocked!

Monday, 22 August 2011

PENARTI’S LOVE EXPERIENCE WITH A PROFFESSINAL MOURNER.

A professional mourner is a human (preferably female), who is hired to create a cryable mood in a funeral: famous in nyanza and western provinces of Kenya. She (sometimes he)is not supposed to talk to anybody happily, eat on the way wen the dead body is ‘traveling’, smile or look happy on the burial day, and worst of all have sex anytime before people shave each, other 3 days after burial. She is also supposed to talk to the body especially wen it is swelling and wen it refuses to move from one destination to the other.

We have this professional mourner who was imported into a kikuyu funeral. Am told Gikuyus don’t know how to mourn loudly. She was only thatsi faifu years.

Having made all the rituals of the day, she went asteastecally and sat beside the body amid tears. It was nine o’clock past noon. The dini ya msambwa. Legio maria and pende had done a collabo to sing choirs through out the night. Chang’aa business on the other leg was booming like the nose of Mariah Carey.

Penarti and I was chewing mugombera and groundnuts and watching out for possible prey. Nothing showed up but for dirty primary school kids who still urinate on bed and never wash underwear. We assumed fate.

“This professional mourner can also drink water.” Said pernarti dreamingly.

Then punde si punda Pernarti starts mourning. Loudly. He moves around the compound carrying a chang’aa glass mourning in a baritone voice. He praises the dead for five minutes, sneezing in the process.

The professional mourner grabbed her role with both legs. She went wea pernarti was to console. From behind, I realized she got enough maskwembe and HAGAment to make a miss western and Nyanza.

She comes back holding Pernarti above the arm and amid tears, he winks at me. I instantly jijazia the trick.

Pernarti is sexhorrific! He can diggano anything. Did I tell you he once dug a sheep and a cow which was sick from foot and mouth? And yesterday he dug an isikuti dancer who was pouring her monthly tomatosauce without maripoko. Aaai! That is for another day.

So they are seated at the corner of the tent and Pernarti is smiling smiling kondooishly at her and she is blushing blushing uncomfortably like a pregnant chameleon(kigeugeu? No kinyonga, yes). She thinks she is cooling him down. Then in a mirror-glimpse he moves closer and lie on her back to be consoled and patted on the back. That is allowed traditionally.

Then I see it! Across the darkness, I see pernarti fingers fumbling in her kitenge skirts. The lady uncomfortably move move around.

Then in the dark again I see her close her eyes. She has fallen right in his box!

In the dark again I see the legs open…open…open…then a sssmmmaaaallll mourn that is covered by the choir that is getting inspired by the smell of tea.

Then in the dark again i see the professional mourner stand up and move in the banana plantations. I ran to pernarti and ask him what the pussy is going on. He just ask if I have maripoko and I give him TRUST STUDDED WITH WINGS. He runs into the bananas.

The choir continues singing, “kikombe kikubwa ni cha pastor, kikombe kikubwa ni cha pastor.”

30 minutes later, a kid runs into the tent.

“Mommy! Mommy!” her mother is a dini ya musambwa choir master(she).
“mommy, I have realized that that woman who was crying is an angel! I heard her crying, “oh my God! Jesus! Scratch that thing twice again and move inner and deeper. Oh God! I am coming! I am coming! Hit the thing hard for me to come!’ Had it not been for uncle pernarti sleeping on her and holding her tight and pinning her down on the floor and hitting her with a short, fat snake severally, she could her flown to heaven.” Her mom fainted.

“ mommy why are you falling now? You think I am lying? Uncle pernarti then removed the snake from her stomach and peeled off its skin. It then vomited the poison that it had taken from the ladies stomach. Then she started kunakunaring her urinating thing and removed more poison from her stomach. You think I am lying? Lets go and see them.” They all followed her, shocked!

Sunday, 24 July 2011

HOW I DUG MAMA KANISA UNDER A MPERA.

Today there was no market for my bodaboda business. I pack outside muliro gardens, sit on my pikipiki and sinziad sinziad nikiwazaest as I dreamt the warm sun. Suddenly poop! I dozed dozed and off! I was shtuiad by Wilipafosi who camed and beeped a horn so vuvuzelaly that I almost cum.

I moved to the under of a mango tree and slept down on grass. I don’t remember how but I started dreaming. I dreamt that I was fingering Michelle Obama with my thumb until she came like in the movies. In the dream, she screams and tells me things in kiluhya mixed with kikamba that she is a concoction of msamia, mumaragoli, muteso and mkamba wa kitui. Me I just continue fingering like you have never seen. I was just at the end of entering my Rosta in her shimene that I woke up! I cursed whoever invented dreams as I stood up. Then I felt a cool, wet sting, then knew I had poured on myself in my dream. I hate pouring on outside and especially pouring on myself.

I assume the whole trouble and go light the fire of my motorcycle to listen to MMUST FM. Someone had salamus for me. No sooner had the oil of the motorcycle melted than mushene and a free mdiggano brought itself home. I SAW mama kanisa removing from the muliro bench section. She calls one pikipiki and I piga moyo konde I must carry her.

She thinks I don’t know her and I also don’t want her to know so I just step on the oil and the motor starts roaring. I then stand it on the road for her to enter. She enter and we nguruma off.

I try to touch touch one story to another up up as we remove from the black road to the rough road. As we beat corner, I tell, “Matamu, I liked the way pastor Mucheswa preached about God changing water to chang’aa last Sunday.”

When she realize I know her, she almost pour mharo on herself and I see a post-erection of sweat burning the supermarkets on her face.

“Yes. He is a good preacher. Infact, I had just gone to book the front part of muliro garden for a crusade on Saturday.”

At this point, I put fat of motorcycle on a stop and stand the motorcycle between sugarcanes and speak in fruend Engilishi.

“Stop biting lies! You are lying to me open open with no because! With lying,…. You cant me! Huniwezi! Has your head jumped? I saw you enter the garten with a man following.

“I am borrowing you to forgive me and forget that!”

“I will forget if you remove arrangement.”

“Ok. Two thousands.”

“Stu tsausandi? For whati? I have money enough. I wanted what I don’t have.”

“Now what?”

“Ati what? I know you were not attacked sexually with strength. Hukushikwa na nguvu, so I also want to attack you without strength. I see mercy for you, so instead of money, just allow me to climb you 3 shots and that is between us.”

“Ok. If it will make you shut up then ok. Let us go to Muliro then.” from here we switch to the pharaoh language (kiluhya)

“Ati Muliro? Leave that. In this sugarcanes, there is a mupera tree that has a soft floor. I can dig you from there with no interruption or a politikally incorrect watchers.”

“Ok.”

I tell her the entry is in front, so she climbs the [pikipiki and we go for like 100 meters on the pikipiki. I brush brush my sewage blocks between her legs as I hit potholes. She starts giggle giggle and I know I have brushed G spot. Do you know that female monkey has more G spots than humans? Human females only have 36. I will tell you that research next time if you remind.

We climb down and I step on the fire and the motorcycle dies. I then holds her hand to the sugarcanes. I want to eat this one with no stress so I don’t hurry a mbao on my rosta.

As we reach the mpera, she puts bag down and starts smiling smiling like our new born sheep.

I look at her brooksides and tell to myself, “ I will suckle you until you see.” I move to her slowly slowly looking at her clitoris of her eyes with clitoris of my eyes. I go straight to the brooksides and tear bra to the ground floor. I suck the foreskin of her breasts mstandy proper proper until she knees moaning “maaaayiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!!!luwaya lwabila po!” {mama, the wire got hot po!}. those brooksides were so big that when you cut them off, they can make 9 kilos of meat for the butcher, Mr. Wanyama.

I slap slap her toilet down there and it cries well. As my left hand direct the other brookside to my mouth, the other fumbles with the zip of her kitenge skirt to the ground. She has a green underwear with flowers. She has very big toilets. This is the kind you can enjoy digging in the front or back without regretment.

As she is moaning, she starts parroting.

“You know my husband well well? You may think he is an angel. My husband is a sex addict. He made me get sex addicted. One day we had mdiggano on our balcony with our 6 months old child as a referee. Yes, I say ref because she was crying whenever he poured outside. And after mdiggano, he usually said our lord’s prayer,’nyasaye tata akhanyola enda ta’ (God father, let her not receive a stomach). We used to have mdiggano daily until pastor munene was transferred form Nyahururu to kakameka. They are forever together. I guess they urinate on one another’s back. The day I will find them doing mdiggano! Weuwe! I will finger fuck both their toilet holes rhythmically, beat them mwiko on those toilets and dunga a knife on their toilets as permanent marks.”

As she parrots, I let her kneel and decides to be a dog. I remember another man has just eaten her so I don’t risk anything. I spit in to kill the other man’s pourings just like a cat. Yes, he-cats have natural poison in their pourings that kill the pouring of the former he cat that just dug a she cat. So I spit in and wear a maripoko called trust condom studded. Yes, I am not stupid, I carry maripoko in wallet.

I only eat her 3 shotis mstanding and mdoggy and she turn to face me and pours the feminine pouring, irrigating the mupera tree. Once a woman has poured, I don’t risk digging her again. So as she pours horror, I wear my trouser then make to leave then remembers something.

“Mama Kanisa, remember I now know 3 secrets. You being eaten in Muliro kartens, your sexaddict husband eating pastor munono’s fat toilet and now me eating you live in the sugarcanes. So if I call you for a diggano when I am hungry, youb either co operate or I release.”
I leave still pouring last drops.

Still it is me MURULI WA SHAMA (shamakhokho). Pliz share this kastory with your friends by clicking on the button written f below. Pai pai muchama!!!

Monday, 18 July 2011

PENARTI'S TOTAL LOVE IN A BUS. khaLOL

Pernarti had asked me to be a boy of hand with him to nairopi to buy motorcycle spare parts. I had never gone beyond Turbo. That was a year after me went out of form four.

We had to do the traveling evening so that we reach there Friday morning and make returnment faster. We take Msamaria Mwema.

We sit backbench on form 6 at the window so that we see everything outside properproper that we read in geography and GHC. We sit with a schoolboy, a school gal and a breastfeeding woman

Let me tell you this something! Whenever Pernarti sees a brooksiding woman, he gets a hard bone on his Rosta. He tells the boy to move towards me and he sits next to the Brookside Company.

The lights go off. Now, Penarti is never shy but today he is afraid of starting conversation. He just look at the Brookside boo bee and swallow words then,…

“I am the one who owns Shamakhokho video show. I also digs sugarcane in Mumias”

At this point he removes a packet of simsim frymixed with groundnuts and chews them noiseynoisey I remembering my maize cob and remove and share with the school girl who refuse.

Penarti is still at it.
“Now look at this jeans of mine. Bluetooth from China and my Ng’ombe senye….nge cap”

When she hears him pronounce senye…nge she laughs. Pernarti automatically knows she likes Mdiggano stories and relax back to celebrate his vulgar dictionary. The lady also feels freeliest and look at him like a small girl of bush with no bra on. I just measure them because the school gal is not talking.

Pernarti starts telling her how he dug a high school boarding mistress in the girls dormitory when the schoolgirls were in evening preps until she jumped border and wanted him to marry him{this is true. I will tell you later fullfull. Remind me}. He continues to cheat the woman that he is a lab technician and he is going to Nairobi to buy lab chang’aas, sulpher 11 sugarcane and its brother ammonia for agriculture manure projection for KCSE.

“So was the boarding master your teacher? How did you reach dormitories?” asks brookside owner.

“Oh! I was in form four by then. Boarding prefect. She Called me and started saying saying that her husband is never at home. He is principal million kilograms of meters away. Leave that! I sucked sucked all the cholesterol out of her brookside and she chewed my ten 9 inch rosta like sugarcane.”
“You mean you have 10 inch?”

He cough cough cough and in the dark I see him pulling her left hand and planting it between above his legs. {Pernarti never weared underwear and I knew she came face to face with the headtip of his Rosta because she said a small small wow wa in the dark}

From here, they start whispering whispering nothing in the each other ear and I feel like my rosta is going to burst. The school boy gets the rhythm and start asking the school gal about mock exams. So, now for now I am between two love groups.

In the dark, I see Pernarti’s hand brushing her thighs. The baby is sleeping after heavy breastfeeding. She giggle giggle and put her hand on pernarti’s standing rosta {I know it must be standing now}again then say another khaWOW. Pernarti opens the zip for her and Rosta scream out for freedom. This time I swear I saw it. She starts playing with it and coughing coughing and pumuaring pumuaring whenever pernarti brushes her Brookside. In the dark, I see her open the legs and Pernarti misbehaves his hand in. the back bench starts smelling shimene soup and I know she is wettening. You know women that have shimenes that have seen a head of a child pour so much shimene soup and this one was their queen.

The Pernarti removes the Brookside meant for the baby and starts sucking like a gazelle goat. I know he is open openly drinking milk when he starts swallowment loudly. The lady mourns but he closes her mouth to remove suspectment.

The school gal on the other side has opened her skirts to let the boy’s fingers do art and design field work. My Rosta dies of haki yake and I am almost bursting stupidity. To stop this, I collect enough mshuto and farts a 2kg ash of roast ash! But nobody cares me.

From the dark, I see the baby waking up. The lady has been sucked so much he has left the baby to fall on Pernarti’s lap. The baby on seeing pernarti’s rosta erect before its face start playing with it and I think he thought it was a brookside because he starts playing with it and later starts sucking it. He sucks sucks and sucks as Pernarti drinks his mother’s brookside like one litre. The baby sucks harder and Pernarti pours on his face. He does this loudly, moaning and the passengers.

This wake up the whole bus and the light are switched on .

Let me tell you! I don’t laugh there there but later I laugh and laugh and laugh at how fast the Rosta got out of the baby’s mouth into the trouser then zip!

All peoples in the bus turned backside to see us. Then manamba spoke.

“Runyinyi rutoto rwa skul! Hiyo tapia mbaya ya kulishana fitole kwa pasi muache! Munanizikia? Ruchinga! Mumesoea!{you ruschool kids! That have manners of eatingling each others fingers in darkness of bus you must stop! You hear? You have used!} then the boy hits back.

“Usituletee! Umechecki tukido samo yeyote? Waha mayumbus na themaz ndo wanawaistian noi na kide. Wee mtu nguyaz! Ukinijata neta rama ka jamo nitakubokols io stingo hujahiwa sorora! Nzakwa hii ni buu au ni ndudhi?imedondondoka! nieza kulima dimanga nikuhit ka rithe ya movie! Makwapa!{don’t bring us. Have you checked……..ya movie. Armpits.} from here seriously me cannot translate anything because I cannot say I heared anything said.

The conductor also having been beaten by I dont know new English or sheng put his tail between the legs and switched off the lights.

From here, there is no dramatization until we reach Timboroa. (no pun intendment) it is about one hour before midnight reach. a car that is carrying a catholic priest and two nuns(those ladies who have never been dug by any rosta) comes from the front and enters our bus. I mean we have a terrible accident.

All the car-dwellers die there there. I am telling you! We the bus dwellers are thrown here and there and only some people who are delicate and reckless enough get small injuries. Screaming screaming screaming flies everywhere.

I tell you everyone was running in the out hector sector. We follow and there. Red blood. Someone wonders how the car entered our bus and looking for what and where were they from?

Police are called and professional mourners start applying for the mourning job as they scream in style. (Remind me to tell you how I dug a professional mourner on night). The play turns into a commotion and from the clitoris of my eye, I see pernarti taking advantage into his fingers and signaling the lady with baby on back. She follows him into the bushes. I know pernarti is going to going another two litres of the baby’s milk and dig her proper proper.

I start searching for any potential holes to dig but with the mourning mood, I give up.

After some times, the driver sermons the crowd and the place silences. But before he starts speechment, a voice is heard from the bushes.

“Aaaaaaaaaiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!! Aaaaaaaiiiiiiiiii!!!! Mr. lab tech! umenifikako tu kwa kitofu! Nitombeko tu mpaka nichisikieko tu kuchikocholea. Khapo pas! Khapo!” then a man’s voice pumua pumuaring, then, “Nimwakemo ndani kapsa! Natakako kusikia io maji moto ikitembeako kwa tumbo yangu. Nikoko na mimpa ya two mantisi, chomako khako khatoto na hiyo machi.then a man’s voice, loudest this time round.

Then a baby creies, “mai nenya khununa.” (Mom I want to suckle). A slap. The baby screams.

The driver looks at us and says in fluent Swahili, “when we are mourning, others are fucking!” As if to answer him, the two came out, Pernarti adjusting his trouser and the lady fumbling her brookside int! Then their eyes met the crowd!
PLEASE CLICKI TO THE BUTTON WITH "f" to share withi yua facebooku friends.

Friday, 1 July 2011

HOW I ATE A GIRL WITH A SHAVEN SHIMENE IN A KALABATI


You think I only dig and eat people in Muliro gardens? Nono! I have
dug and eaten people in all public places. The recent one was in a
kalabati (whatever the spelling but they are those public places that
let water pass under the road.

I was with Pernati eating njaro by beating stories and combing mirraa
that Wanjala had brought from abroad (Tantora in Nairopi). They were
sweety and juicy.

Leave the miraa story. So Pernati is telling us how he ate princess
Nasipwoni the pusaa seller.

Now Pernati is mud. Insanity. If I tell you the figure that princess
Nasipwoni carries, you will laugh upto the next week of tomorrow. So,
let me say that she is greyish black and about 175kg, a showershy
skin, with a woolen underwear and a  tomato sauce filled Shimene(as
per pernarti’s description). Si I told you here we have three staircases in which vagina grow. Shipoto is a virgin that people are born with to age eleven.dont eat a shipoto. Shinyi is above thirteen and eatable but not given birth. Lisana is a vagina that has seen the head of a baby while Shimene is anything that can be dug and eatable without taking you to court.

Wooooiiii!! So Pernati is making us laugh urine on ourselves and
Wanjala wants to know if he planted his Rosta in her elbow hole, the
toe, or the real, giant, elephantiasis vagina. You know when eating
such big ladies, you can pour even before reaching their knees. I
confirm that Pernati put his head instead in his rosta because he
keeps saying, “ nilisikiako tu utamu mpaka kwa kichwa nywele
ikasimamako tu ti!”

The a new lady of visiting passes by.

Let me tell you no new lady of visiting passes Pernarti’s eyes but
this one me must eat it proper proper like Ugali ya kimioko!

She had applied the famous Oliando 2 perfume and from a distance, I
hear the smell of the Rexona bar soap so I know she is from town and
combed not like Moraa the girl I said to you the other day of now.

I follow follow her asiteasite behind behind and she asks the way to
Chavakali and I know from here Shamakhokho, Chavakali needs a matatu.
I tell it is walking distance and I will escortment her.

I tell her stories about me and meself. That I eat in prestigious
hotels like shamakhokho Ugali mix hotel. That I fought in Idi Amin’s
war and got a mark on my arm. I here show her the mark that I got when
pulling sugarcane from a speeding tractor just to make her feel my
muscle. She touches it and I feel like Mugabe on top of george Bush or
Messi on top of Man U. py the way, before I forgetment, last month of
today Messi ate Ferguson bitches three njotis nonstop! And Rooney was
ruined to a kichana wa mkono. His role was to run run around and bring
maripoko(kondomu) for Messi to pour into Ferguson another njoti
kizitostyle.(father kisito is my cousinment). I hear Van Der sar is
pregnantly preganant and he might be going for a long life maternity
live. Chicharito lost his virginity in all the holes apart from his
nose.

Put a forgetment to that. I tell this lady of new that I am arsenal
representative for Shamakhokho and my brother small is a 1st year at
egerton university, Laikipia west campus, Maralal dormitories. When
she hears this, she puts a holdment to my hand and from here I know
very well this one is eatable and diggable.

I tell her it is late(6 oclock) and if she must be taken by me wa
escariot to chavakali, then she must give me paymentation..she asks
how much and I tell her I have enough cash in the walls of Equity
bank. She says now what? And I say I will leave you here alone. We are
almost in a forest on a grassy path and the rain is almost deciding to
drop.

She says yes. I cannot risk eating her in the bushes then get beaten
by rats and snakes before I pour so I decide to think faster and the
idea comes in my brain. I will eat her in the kalabati! The road is
only 100m from here.

We reach the road. My rosta mbao is brushing brushing my new tractor
suit and I pocket to avoid the stares from fans.

I pull her into the kalabati underground and when she says no, I say
this is my way home. She follows neck aside and when I say nobody is
seeing, she nods without portfolio and accepts full full to lie
downest like Mwala’s nose.

By the way, her name is Chenifa and she is waiting for KCSE
announcement by Marende. I did not walk with Maripoko and I don’t
care. She cannot have the disease of oversexin.

I start by eating the lipstick on her big lips as my hands survey if
the brookside on her chest is real. She complaiment that I know not
kissing. I will dig you until you shut up!

I drink the foreskin of her boobs and make her start crying as my
middle finger confirms if she has a Shimene down there. And lucky me!
The two hustling fingers find a wet one! Wawawawawwow!

Here, it is hurry hurry so I drop my track suit to the ground (I don’t
wear underwear with tracksuit) and her dress touches the ground.
Wooo!!! She has a shaven shimene! What wonderfulness! I almost beat a
scream of joy on this sight. It looks like an apple! You ladies out
there! Shave yours today! I eat all the insects and pre-tomato sauce
around it until I confirm she is ready for my tractor to dig it.

I dig and dig and dig until the hair on my head and Cambodia(ass)
stand erect. Three njotis four. I pour all njotis out and she pats my
head like in the movies as I do the pouring. I then rested after the
sixth njoti and poured air out of my rosta. I then left out a loud
mshuto that suffocated the whole kalabati. Let me tell you, utamu wa
kunyambako ni kukuchuma!

As if echoing my mshuto, thunderstorm slashes and the rain start
beating. I know the kalabati will start filling with rain rain water
so I faster faster wear my track suit and run out leaving her pouring
her first njoti.

I don’t know how she reached Chavakali with rain and a shrink led,
beaten up, badly dug cat and the coming darkness.

Men meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen!!!!! Pamoja tuangamize strangers!

.

Sunday, 26 June 2011

KISII GAL POURS SEWAGE AFTER SEX

Did I tell you of Moraa’s smelly pussy after I dug her just after she came from the farm sweat and mud? Wololo yaye! That smell that came out of that Shimene can ask you, “utahama lini?”

Moraa was the only daughter of mpango wa inside of the only Kisii man in Harambee past Mumias. I had gone to visit Makokha the sugarcane broker. This time I left Pernarti to safe my house gooder. Makokha brokes sugarcane from people who don’t have fertilizer to rich teachers in bungoma, kakamega and Busia. I broke two acres of cane and they had been cut. Here, before sugarcane is cut, men eat one another wives inside there so much that the syrup doubles.

Last time I was in Mumias, I dug mama Moraa’s aunt and gave her leso as miwa fungas payment. I normally tell people that when you get a shimene to eat, eat it until you feel like urinating. Condition being it is not of the same blood. Incest is bad. If it is outside blood, dig it! By the way, shimene is an enoughgrown vagina. Here, we have three staircases in which vagina grow. Shipoto is a virgin that people are born with to age eleven.dont eat a shipoto. Shinyi is above thirteen and eatable but not given birth. Lisana is a vagina that has seen the head of a baby while Shimene is anything that can be dug and eatable without taking you to court.

On day one I met Moraa and after seeing my timberland, look me with those big clitoris of her eyes and she promised to give me her shimene tomorrow at noon.

Tomorrow of that day is the now’s today. I set alarm at 11:45 a.m and start wetdreaming of the digging. I will eat her proper proper in Makokha’s grass-thatched hut because he is in shibale town now and his wife has gone to see the maternity doctor to check check if the baby is chunguliaring through her legs. Kigeugeu style.

At 11:32 a.m, I go to the road to urinate as I wait and do you know who I meet? Moraa’s mother! She greets me for so long and leaves her eyes to stay there and look me with the prostitute clitoris of her eyes that look like saying, “come climb, peel, dig, eat, chew, pour and swallow me now!” I smile like Lucy Kibaki and let her go!

“Mukitokanga khakhameka uko muliro katens msikuenge mukituacha pure. Khata kama ni khasukari khatoko tutachukueko. Py dhe way, unataka shamba ya kulimamo miwa? Kucha kwangu machionichioni ni kupatieko na pei musuli.”

She is a Mkisii but the Mumias in her is more than Wakolis. I wish I came with Pernarti, he could dig her as I dig Moraa here and here in same sheet.

Seeing her gone, the Nyeges in me climb my whole body and I beat heart Konde and decide to wented at moraas on that another side of the plantation.

I find her in the kitchen chewing sugarcane like lollipop as she cooks sweet potatoes. There is a jug of pusaa on the table and I know that will be the escort for the mabwonis (potatoes)

When she sees me, she almost faint with celebration and I tell her I want to dig and eat her there and there. She says she has not showered the shamba sweat and the kitchen smoke and I say I don’t mind. I will love her that and that way.

She looks at me with those big clitoris of her eyes and I know that no man has ever told her such. I move closer and touch her forehead as the right hand touch the torch(nipple) of her brooksides. They are sharp and pointed. The foreskin of the torchy nipple are smooth like a baby’s ass. She has no bra and therefore licking licking them good good in the nylon blouse is easy. If I could have found milk there, I could have swallowed whole whole.

I forget that she was smelling Lantana, makoe[no English equality] and sugarcane sweat and start smelling brookside fresh and brookside erect yoghurt all over.

My Rosita is getting a mbao and I realized she is kisii and kisii women cut off the lollipop of their vagina and even the Mashavu and teeth of Vagina. But Moraa was born in mumias so no worry.

I remove her formerly yellowish now light greenish underwear and the brown spot in its behind brings my rosta’s mbao down. This gal needs tissue paper! Nkt. Or if not, she should at least use leaves of sit on the grass and shwaaa! Slid down the slope to wipe her hype ass(Cambodia).

I slap the misbehaving Cambodia like in porn movie, unzip my trousers and wear maripoko on the now mbaod Rosta. I plant the Roster in and dig her like a tractor! Her muddy shimene swallows my rosta like a drum and I feel like I am walking in a swamp. I did and dig like you have never seen. She has a big lollipop of the shimene that release juices every time I dig in.

She starts lifting her legs and covering my Cambodia with them. When she beating nduru in kikisii I drop psych and when she started beating nduru and calling her father’s name, Bosire, I smell trouble.

“Posire!ooooh! aki! Niitooombeee na ngufu yako yote! Posiposiposipori! Aiiiii! Omuyani!!!! Aki aki! Oooooiiiii!!!! Chimbeba!!!! Posire! Posiiiiiiiiire!!!!! Gaki-gakigakigakigakiiiiiiigaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeegakikigakigaki!!!!”

Then she pours before I pour!

No woman has ever poured before me pouring first njoti! My rosta shrinks like Kimani Maruge’s Cambodia.

Forget that! The pouring is not important. What is important is the SMELL! Oh my virgin Idi Amin’s wife! The smell!

Have you ever passed near 20KM from Webuye Pan paper? Or have you ever swarm in sewage? That is the smell I was cursed to eat with nose in that hut. I don’t have to explain the color because most of you can vomit yesterday’s breakfast this night of today. Her pouring was about 2 litres and it flood to the 3 stone stove. After that she4 knees on fours and starts a rhythm of farting without a because. She farts smiling at me and the house smell rotten pusaa ya ndizi. If you want farting lessons try her.

I unzipped and walked out without looking back and went to swim at river Khalaba. If I were at Mumias town, I could have taken her to a car wash!

My guys! If you must dig a village girl from Bungoma, Mumias, Eldoret, Kirinyaga or Kinangop from the Shamba, eat her with blindfold and those air pampers that doctors put on nose.