My life in campus was quite eventful. Where most campus boys’ lives were tied around their girlfriends: taking them to the salon, shopping, banks and all sorts of places that no sane man should be seen, I was busy doing very interesting research on the skin-business and building my first brothel. This is the reason why I was driving by third-year while most of them were still walking their girlfriends to Gikomba for underwear shopping.
I have nothing against girlfriends. What I’m against is a girl thinking that she is better than any one of my whores because she fucks only one guy yet the guy takes her out, buys her gifts, spends money on her in order to fuck her. That sounds very much like whoring to me. Why a man would spend so much money on a used pussy (if you’ve lost your virginity your pussy is used) which has little or no game in the bed or the sofa or the carpet or the wall is beyond my imagination. Why a man would keep a girlfriend, who does not even give him a blow-job, and even marry her all in the name of love is rather crazy. I’d rather spend my hard-earned money on a pretty whore who knows how to treat a dick.
Bitching aside, the aim of this story is to tell you about my first experience with a prostitute in Nairobi. An experience that inspired me to start this business and which has offered continuous motivation to change how pussy is served to the hard-working Kenyan man.
I arrived in Nairobi, fresh from the village, naïve as hell and stupid enough to believe that this was the land of milk and honey. I had just been admitted into the school of computing at The University of Nairobi. I was going to become a software engineer, and a damn good one, and nothing was going to stop me. My parents insisted on tagging along to help me in the admission but this was just a lame excuse for them to come to the city and spend some of my HELB loan while they were at it.
So, I found myself in PREFABS with two roommates, both from the coast, one a Luo. I don’t really need to tell you about the intimidation I felt from these burgers. They spoke their fluent coastal Swahili with such smooth flow that I could only hope that my shrubbing went unnoticed. They had swag, I mean real swag, but somehow the Luo ended up with the ugliest girl I had ever laid my eyes. She was from the college of engineering, which is no surprise.
On the third Friday of campus, as I was busy thinking of the first girl I had fucked in the village, the Luo (lets call him Onyi) burst into the room with the ugly bitch in tow and informed me that I was exiled for the foreseeable future. For those who don’t know what exile means, it is where a roommate is thrown out of his room so that Onyi can exercise some gymnastics on his ugly bitch.
So I called Ndegwa, my friend from the village. Ndegwa was in second year and it turned out that he was suffering the same fate as me. We decided to pool what was left of our HELB loan and hit the town hard. Our first stop was KCB.
At around eleven p.m. we found our drunk asses in Sabina Joy (S.J). For those who don’t know S.J (which is almost illegal not to know) it is this bar near Ambassadeur in Nairobi’s CBD where you can get laid at ten in the morning.
My first impression of the premises was that it was rather dirty; the girls were overdressed for their business and it had a distinct lingering odor that left my drunk brain a tad confused. On my way to the urinal, I stumbled across the black-sheep. She was all yellow, very pretty and dressed in miniskirt that ended a few inches above her glory-hole. She grabbed my crotch.
“Unataka Choti?” (want a shot). She asked. I nodded like a caged animal trying to take dump.
“Ni pesa ngapi?” (What’s the price), my whisper was barely audible as she massaged my cock.
“Ni soh moja.” (It’s a hundred shillings), she answered back. I still had five hundred shillings left from KBC so I took up the offer.
She dragged me by my cock to a counter where I paid a hundred shillings for a room. I got two condoms wrapped in tissue paper and I waited outside the room for the dude who was inside to unload his. My turn finally came and I stepped into the room.
The room was littered with used condoms. A rickety bed on which lay a mattress covered with so much dried spunk you could build a fence with it, stood at a corner. The girl jumped onto the bed, hiked her skirt and stripped off her panties.
“Unangoja nini?” (What are you waiting for) she asked.
I needed no further prompting. Quickly, I threw my pants aside, the boxer followed and a condom soon adorned my erect penis. I knelt on the bed next to the beauty, she wet her pussy with some bit of saliva, grabbed my dick and shoved it into the gaping ravine.
There is no word to describe how wide that pussy was. It made me stop and look at the small pretty body that owned it in sheer astonishment. It stretched out into oblivion barely clinging onto my hungry dick. Yet I shoved on like a mad dog. I clenched my butt in earnest effort to establish any sort of grip and the woman below me yelped out as if she felt a thing. On and on she moaned, screaming fake sweet things into my ear and I bucked along like a cowboy on a mission (no pun).
I saw her red lips, sparkling in the glory of too much lipstick and I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her. My attempt to kiss her earned me a resounding slap.
“Umelipia Kuma, sio mdomo.” (You paid for the pussy, not the mouth). She sternly warned.
I decided to end this quickly. I summoned every bit of strength in my being and concentrated on coming. Finally with much romp and pomp: I shot my load with such force that I had to cling to the cum-laden bed for support.
She threw me off, quickly put on her panties and threw my clothes onto the bed. I decided to dress up and get out of the dingy room to look for Ndegwa. In the bar, the whore I had just fucked was nowhere to be seen and Ndegwa was seated at the counter chatting up a very huge woman.
Reaching for my wallet to buy a drink, I found an empty pocket. I had just been robbed by a whore with a wide pussy.
This is when I decided that some sort of regulation was needed in this business.