Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Given by Force By a HOT Hot Thing...

I am not sure if any of you have ever been given by force, but the killing of Osama yesterday reminded of an incident back in 2001. It was a year or so after i graduated with Bachelors of Microsoft Word and Access from University of Universal college, for those who dont know i wented to university.  After 'graduating', i did not wait to be employed, i started a small business of Simu ya Jamii. It was a hot thing then, making around two hundred bob profit per day or so which was enough because i was not climbing people then.  In that business, i met many people of many types, thin, thick, tall short and voluptuous (yes, i know big English). One of my voluptuous customer was called Njoki** (not real name). To be honest, even today, i have never seen such a beautiful woman (except my wife and you).  Her eyes looked like those that had been crying, red red and when they look at you, you feel like climbing. The other notable feature was her 36D brookside. Her voice was so soft, could remove snake from hole.

Njoki was due to travel to USA on September 12 at night but before she board plane, some guy called Osama (now deceased according to US records and buried in Sea) bombed Twin Towers. All travel by air to America was stopped until when fire stops stops. She had just resigned from her high flying job of secretarial and reception of a top lawyer in this country to go for greener pastures in America. 

She used to come to my shop and make calls and one day in evening on Friday, i beat her joke that we go to my house and she agreed. She waited until i closed shop at 8 and thinking she will reach me at stage and she go away, she did not. It was supposed to be a joke but how wrong was I. 

Those days, i was not eating people at all, leave alone people of class.  One girl I was eating was one Mueni who was staying one floor down my flat and it was not like eating because i ate twice in 6 months. I was living next to my cuzo who was well oiled then. Knowing that Njoki was way class above me, i knew there was no way i could borrow her, leave alone being given or to smell. So, i called my cuzo and told him "Ithe, niukwenda mundu uhana rioa?" (do u want person that look like sun) and he said yes. I told will be bringing him a person in a short time. When one is young, successful and handsome, you dont fear any woman that comes your way. That was the case of my cuzo. Again, he had degree in Art (the one you draw houses for people)

Njoki in her life had never been to Kariofang'i where i used to live. She had never stepped into Stage couch in her life. That time due to tight budget, we used to prepay our monthly fare through a scheme called Megarider (dont google, you cant find it). The house i was leaving in was quite modest by those estate standard, my father was paying the house. He said he will pay house until i find muhindi to give me job.

We went to Ambdasador and boarded Kenya Fathi to Kaiofang'i, standing all through. Those days, we did not have Michuki. If yu wanted to get a seat, either yu walk all the way to Serena and board from there, all look for number 14 mat and sit down but pay more. You can imagine, Njoki standing all the way to Kariofangi?.

Fast-forward>>> To my house, i lived next to my cuzo and since he had a bigger TV than me, and he had a CD player, and i was taking Njoki to him anyway, i ushered her to his house. I went back to my house to cook.   We ate supper together in cuzos house. My cuzo is like Theuri, talk talk talk  with no ending and its like women of class dont like talkers and people that praise themselves. When i looked at things, i saw Njoki and cuzo were not entering each other, but i did not want to spoil. And in my mind, i had told myself there was no way i could even smell Njoki.

I excused myself and told her to make herself comfortable there and she should feel free with my cuzo. When it became apparent to her that i wanted her get dished by my cuzo, she came to me and telled me that if i leave her in that house, she will go to her home that night.  It is then that i told Njeri to come to my room. I went back to my cuzo and told him his has lost.

Inside my house, my mind went blank. I put Nigerian movie in my black and white TV until it turned colour because of tension. She could not stomach watching movie on a black and white tv, so she told me she wanted to sleep. The bed was next to the seat, so i just pointed the bed to her.  Thinking she will jump into bed with trouser, i saw her remvove belt, then downed the jeans, slowly with no hurry then blouse before jumping in bed. I tried looking aside, tried to think of mortuary  and dead bodies so that my tree does not think of standing because if it stand , i will not know how to borrow such a stunning chick and i hate embarrassing myself.

I stayed on seat watching movie of Nigeria but hearing nothing they say and the way their english is simple to know.  Although we also talk with her when she is in bed, i think i was talking stories of giants. After sometime, she called me

" Wanjohi, nduke tukome kai ukuona thenema kinya kiroko?" (Wanjohi, come we sleep, you will see movie until morning). I gained courage and removed clothes except boxer.  When in bed, she was sleeping facing heaven but when she hear me in bed, she turn and face my side. We talked and talked, and she wait me to touch somebody but i did not. I did not have enough courage. When she see i am not, she start to touch my josto and i get courage. I jumped on her 36D breast, removed bra and sucked them like the way my grandfather said i should not.  I was sucking like i had just been from sucking training. She got on heat and removed pantie  herself. I dont know how my fingers found their way to her hole and i feel she is fully shaven. When she got on heat too much, she told me to jump on her

Njoki: "Wanjohi, i want you. i want to feel you. Remove boxer and do me". There there, i remembered i did not have makobosto. There was no way i was going to eat somebody without makobosto. The foolish boy in my started to play defence ball

Me: " Ehh... Njoki.. you know what, i did not buy makobosto and we cant do without them. I was damn damn serious.

Njoki : "What do you mean? do i look like i am sick? " (To be honest, i thought there was a posibility of that. Why did she want to give me so bad. But i know how to counter that with sweet words.

Me: " I didnt say that baby. I am 100% sure that you are not sick. If indeed you were, Americans would not have given you Visa.

Njoki; "And why is that now? Why dont you want me to feel you? I love you, you know!"

Me: "Ehh...  you might get stomach, you know. And if you get stomach, i am not in position to take care of babies and it will spoil your chance of going to USA next month" (It was my fear also. Was not prepared to enter box. Was too young).

She turned to me and in anger, said " What do you take me for? Dont i know myself?  Sweeerie, why did you put me on fire then?  Pleeeeaasse come up. I want to feel you (now toned down) .

I looked at her and said enyewe, people with Mneck had cratches all over and dry skin, and stuff.  I jumped on her. I grinded those thing until she cry for feeling good. After i poured, she relaxed and said "Nguendaga o uguo" (Thats the only thing i wanted).

I called myself a meeting and tried to interprete her statement of "nguendaga o uguo". I told myself she just wanted to spread mneck to me. I did not have more sleep although tomorow morning, i go buy makobosto and drilled her another powerful joti, amid fears it might burst.

Two weeks later, after the fire had dried down in USA, she finally boarded aircraft. I was among the many family members and friends in  10 minibuses that escorted her to Airport. That is not news. Exactly two days later, when sitting in my 'shop', i saw figure and I immediately turned blind. Njoki was standing in door, smilling at me. I thought it was ghost or i was dreaming.  When i pinched myself and felt not dreaming, i welcomed her and gave her a seat, although still semi blind. One million ideas had already crossed my mind.  She sat and started crying and told me "Imagine i was been denied entry"

That statement alone was like confirming my worst fears. My mouth run dry and dry and i thought to myself that she was tested at the port of entry and they found traces of Mneck, thereby denying her entry.  It was after she explained to me what happened that i finaly breathed a sigh of relief. She told me that her hosts refused to pick phone when immigration officials called their residence. The reason they did not pick was that US had tightened the rules and anybody coming there at that time had to be picked from Airport by the hosts. The hosts, happened to be like what most Somalis are here, Illegal people.

From that day, i said never again will i ever respect woman feeling if i dont feel like. I will never be forced to climb somebody. It was too much stress, you know. If i dont feel like, i dont. Whether ifs feeling of getting laid or dipping further, i always ignore those feelings.  But i can change mind if the feelings involves me feeling their breasts.

I remain,

Wanjohi wa Kigogoine.

53 comments:

  1. Ati " I tried to think of mortuary and dead bodies so that my tree does not think of standing "
    Wanjohi niukunjuraga na mitheko!!!
    Is that what you guys do when you dont want tree to stand?

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  2. @ Gasheri.. Thats my strategy.. either when i dont want my tree to stand or i dont want to pour very fast. I talk for myself, so dont go launching somebody..

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  3. Eti "Me: "Ehh... you might get stomach, you know. And if you get stomach, i am not in position to take care of babies and it will spoil your chance of going to USA next month" (It was my fear also. Was not prepared to enter box. Was too young)." I swear you are one hell of a crazy dude. I love it!

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  4. Men you never cease to amaze me. Good job sir. Keep it up - the writing not the Josto.

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  5. wanjohi umeiva,u always brighten my mornings.keep it up!!

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  6. U r one sick person. hehehehe...

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  7. hahahahahahaa! Ngai fafa!ati "i saw figure and I immediately turned blind" Ningumia ni mitheko! hehehehee

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  8. U just entertaining man. keep it Up..

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  9. atay until she cry for flin gud,wanjohi tigaga maheni,kai ukumuriaga ta jojo...

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  10. U soo funny..... Yawa, I like

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  11. Ndatheka nginya ndathuria. Too funny man!!

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  12. He he he! Always keep makobosto at an arms length.... u dont want to get Mneck eeh?

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  13. Wanjohi, kali hiyo!!!Keep it up!

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  14. Wanjohi wa Kigogoine aka "Josto Man"...

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  15. hiyo noma, the translation drives me nuts in fits of laughter u shud invent a dictionary, wanjohi ur a real funny story teller

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  16. Ati hadi blak n white tv showd colour koz of tension? Lmao.ur crazy yawa.hehe

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  17. u guy this is madness...i culd pay u to just write me stories....

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  18. Ati Nigerian English is simple to knw,nimechekaaaaa!

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  19. Wee wacha kuwa Theuri(fake), be original, hii story ni ya Mucii Munene in Klist...... Tell us kama wee ni mucii

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  20. copy pasted or not u still cracked me!

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  21. hehehe.....Wanjohi u r sick. U always make my day

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  22. @Anon, if you think its fake post yako original.there people who dont appreciate anyone. Wanjohi leta ingine kama hiyo.... uko juu sana

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  23. I could marry you for your stupid english and jokes, hehehehehehe

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  24. @ Zeg.. dont mind them oh.
    @ Anon.. ati stupid wat? ngai fafa

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  25. i was told in situations like those..when you don't want to kuta vitu, you think of your grandmother or pumpkins..and that tree dies pap.

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  26. wanjohi murio..IMHO i felt this story wasn't written by you..aki ya nani..there's a certain broken English and intentional spelling mistakes you normally use which has me questioning if you really wrote this one - since it has long parts written in proper English. Then again, I could be wrong.

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  27. Hahha wanjohi ati 36D brookside.Hizo ni gani?nimecheka tu sana.U rock

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  28. wanjohi wi mwana ugekira mugutho wa thoguo.anyway put it up.

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  29. heheheheee 36D thats a killer

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  30. Wanjohi i will make you do this:
    'But i can change mind if the feelings involves me feeling their breasts.'
    My breasts are bigger than Njoki's they are 38D.
    lol

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  31. we wanjohi mani! @ida atindanga agikuoya indo..na wee utiranyita na utaramuhe..yani uratwika kubaff! niuradakaria muno! Muhure muti harafu uandike haha..lol kana atia @ida lol

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  32. kangoroti wa kihiuMay 5, 2011 at 1:17 AM

    makobosto *dead*

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  33. hahahahahahahahahahaha.. kavaluku!

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  34. Anon English please...
    Wanjohi ebu translate ama i wont let you climb me

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  35. niungenagia muno wanjohi

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  36. @ Ida.. he says that i am refusing to climb you and you have already removed Thuruari. He say i should beat you tree then write the story here. haha. kuja na huku thaa hii.

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  37. HAhahahhahahah I dont want to fill stomach too n my makabosto have finished.

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  38. entering each other, but i did not want to spoil

    hahaha

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  39. Hehehe cracked ma ribs

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  40. my ribs!ati you try to think of the dead bodies so that the tree doesnt stand!!!!!!!

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  41. "BIG UP MAN UR STORIES R DE BOM',KIP DEM COMING!"

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  42. wanjohi!
    nia itire ma njagi kana no josto wa munengagira ata kurira ni murio

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  43. that was a nice one they are called small boys

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  44. Ngai! u that man...U inpire me!

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  45. wanjohi ,weeeee. YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE CLIMBING EVERY TIME I READ YOUR BLOG...weeee even when there are no makobostos. I guess even chicks should now start carrying them as it appears they can be filled(kuiyurio) any time at this rate.

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  46. NIPE TAREHE CIKUTEACH VILE MADEM WANATAKAGHA

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  47. We now understand why Lyn is no Simu Ya Jamii. Afterall, she has a PhD and is married, thus, not likely to lower herself to the level of her students. But the label has a new dimension when you see her wedding photo. The one of her wedding reception at the Safari Park Hotel. The outline of Lyn’s pregnancy is so visible that experts would say it is beyond five months. Conservatives, would, however contend, that Lyn is sinful. How can she conceive before marriage?
    Yet, those who know Lyn would give you a different perspective. Lyn went for her fellowship at the Amsterdam Universiteit in The Netherlands. Therefore, she is the Simu ya Jamii ya kutoka Netherlands. To the willing ear, Lyn never forgets to tell them about the country’s progressiveness. The capital city, Amsterdam, is afterall, home to the famous red-light district. Besides, Lyn carried all that cultural experience back to Kenya. Red is her trademark colour.
    Legend has it that girls who go there for further studies are really educated. By the prostitutes. Thus, it is logical to conclude that Lyn, studious as she is, learnt a lot. From watching the prostitutes in their bras and panties from their windows for 24 hours. Not to forget them using the ‘SM Specials’ from sex shops. Forget theory. The Netherlands was all about experiential learning.
    “The Netherlands is a truly progressive state, whose welfare model should be copied by the Third World countries,” lectures Lyn to the willing ear. Any country where global sex-tourism in the ‘suburbs’ is legal, has to be progressive. From the ‘upmarket suburbs’ of Moleensteeg, Slapersteeg, Stoofsteg and to the Trompetterssteeg. It is all in Lyn’s walk.
    As a dedicated exchange student, Lyn brought this progressive welfare model to The Third World. Her Kenyan fiancée, now her husband, has already embraced this model. To avoid the cliché of calling someone ‘X’ so as to protect their identity, let us refer to him as S. S recalls how it happened.
    He was about to knock Lyn’s door with the usual boring preliminaries about how he had missed her, but she would have none of it. In her no-nonsense style, Lyn approached S in her underwear and whip. Lyn posed as she had seen the prostitutes in Bergstraat do.
    “I want a baby, a marriage and a prenuptial agreement stating that I will get 75% of your wealth, in that order,” she spat. S, being an obedient student, immediately committed himself to the welfare model. Progression is not about chasing a skirt for 31 years. It is about haste.
    We only hope that S-Lyn, Junior will be as progressive as his/her parents. Lyn will see to it that red will be his/her trademark colour. In fact, according to the African tradition, S-Lyn, Junior will carry his/her mother’s lineage by being labelled Simu ya Jamii ya kutoka Netherlands. Meanwhile, those in The Third World have to be contented with Lyn’s version of The Netherlands’ upmarket suburbs. Ignorance is sometimes bliss.

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  48. We now understand why Lyn is no Simu Ya Jamii. Afterall, she has a PhD and is married, thus, not likely to lower herself to the level of her students. But the label has a new dimension when you see her wedding photo. The one of her wedding reception at the Safari Park Hotel. The outline of Lyn’s pregnancy is so visible that experts would say it is beyond five months. Conservatives, would, however contend, that Lyn is sinful. How can she conceive before marriage?
    Yet, those who know Lyn would give you a different perspective. Lyn went for her fellowship at the Amsterdam Universiteit in The Netherlands. Therefore, she is the Simu ya Jamii ya kutoka Netherlands. To the willing ear, Lyn never forgets to tell them about the country’s progressiveness. The capital city, Amsterdam, is afterall, home to the famous red-light district. Besides, Lyn carried all that cultural experience back to Kenya. Red is her trademark colour.
    Legend has it that girls who go there for further studies are really educated. By the prostitutes. Thus, it is logical to conclude that Lyn, studious as she is, learnt a lot. From watching the prostitutes in their bras and panties from their windows for 24 hours. Not to forget them using the ‘SM Specials’ from sex shops. Forget theory. The Netherlands was all about experiential learning.
    “The Netherlands is a truly progressive state, whose welfare model should be copied by the Third World countries,” lectures Lyn to the willing ear. Any country where global sex-tourism in the ‘suburbs’ is legal, has to be progressive. From the ‘upmarket suburbs’ of Moleensteeg, Slapersteeg, Stoofsteg and to the Trompetterssteeg. It is all in Lyn’s walk.
    As a dedicated exchange student, Lyn brought this progressive welfare model to The Third World. Her Kenyan fiancée, now her husband, has already embraced this model. To avoid the cliché of calling someone ‘X’ so as to protect their identity, let us refer to him as S. S recalls how it happened.
    He was about to knock Lyn’s door with the usual boring preliminaries about how he had missed her, but she would have none of it. In her no-nonsense style, Lyn approached S in her underwear and whip. Lyn posed as she had seen the prostitutes in Bergstraat do.
    “I want a baby, a marriage and a prenuptial agreement stating that I will get 75% of your wealth, in that order,” she spat. S, being an obedient student, immediately committed himself to the welfare model. Progression is not about chasing a skirt for 31 years. It is about haste.
    We only hope that S-Lyn, Junior will be as progressive as his/her parents. Lyn will see to it that red will be his/her trademark colour. In fact, according to the African tradition, S-Lyn, Junior will carry his/her mother’s lineage by being labelled Simu ya Jamii ya kutoka Netherlands. Meanwhile, those in The Third World have to be contented with Lyn’s version of The Netherlands’ upmarket suburbs. Ignorance is sometimes bliss.

    ReplyDelete

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