When a child starts explaining to its mother how a child is produced, then morality has gone to the dogs.


Such a thing happened to me sometime back when I worked in Busia as a cameraman. Those days, owning a camera was one of the most interesting things that would happen to mankind.

Very man women adored the ground I stood on and amongst the many, there was a Japadhola babe called Suzan.

This babe was a student at Namasagali and her father was a small scale retailer in Busia. Suzan had developed a habit of coming to my place to take nude photographs.

Her mission was to create an opportunity for me to beg her for her thing. Sometimes, she would tell me what her boyfriend had done to her, although I had never met him physically, from her conversation, I knew him like the back of my hand.

One day, she asked me whether I was impotent, “Why do you think so?” I asked. “Because I have never your girlfriend, “she answered. 

I laughed and told her she had gone back to Bunyoro. “Ah you must be impotent, tell me, I will get you medicine,” she said. 

Two days later, she came to my house and asked me to take a snap of her only in only panties. She also asked if I wanted a look at her pot. “Not really but if you insist just show me,” I said carelessly although I badly wanted to see it.

She showed it to me and I got a terrible hard on. I had to cool down, so I decided to go for a walk. I returned at about midnight when she had left.  She had written to me a note with only one line. “You are a fool Hyena.” 

We did not meet again for a long time because she was at school. During her senior six vacation, her father employed her to do an internship at his shop that gave me the opportunity to see her whenever I wanted to.

One Sunday morning, she knocked at my door, I opened and the first word that came from her mouth was, “Hello Mr. impotent.” “Hello Suzuki, long time no see,” I said while covering myself back to bed.

All she wanted to know that morning was my relationship with some stupid Somali girls who used to come to visit me.

Also why I was ignoring her, “Am I too ugly for you Hyena?” she asked. Her cheap perfumes filled the room and believe me it was like a love portion of some kind.

She demanded for her photos and everything that she had given me. “If that’s what you want come and get them, they are in that basin under the bed,” I said. Tears started rolling down her eyes.

She walked towards the bed, knelt down and pulled out the basin. That’s when I grabbed her hand and pulled her as I covered her next to me. “Suzan don’t you think we should just be friends?” I said. “If I want friends I will go to Mulago,” was her answer. “So you mean you love me?” I asked. “Yes I do,” she replied as more tears rolled down her eyes.

“What more do you want Hyena?” she asked. I pulled her and kissed her passionately as we made love. She did not have ‘sauti ya wa bibi,’ (voice of a woman). “I love you Hyena, so much, are you enjoying?” she cried out. “Yes I am,” I answered.

“Say I am yours forever,” she pleaded. “Yes you are mine,” I answered. We rested for some time and then started our stupid game over again. This time, Suzan talked in the three languages she understood more, Swahili, Luganda and English. From that day on, she became my item.

One day, Suzan met the two Somali girls by accident, and she started a fight like it was the third world war. That’s when the father came to know about our affair.

I was taken to the police station, what horrified the cop was the way all the three babes claimed to have full ownership of my rod. The Somali community did not find it funny at all so they demanded for my head.

I stayed in the cells for four days as police were still getting evidence. On the fifth day, I was brought out to clean the compound that’s when I escaped, bullets followed but the spirits of Kabalega protected me.

I swore never to step foot in Busia again. Years passed and I never met Suzan until one day in Ange Mystique. I think I bumped on her accidentally, she screamed like she had seen a ghost, she was with her American Muzungu.

I was introduced to him as her O.B whatever that meant. We started chatting as she apologized for the problems she had caused me. 

I asked her about her father, and she told me that he had died two years later after I had left Busia.

She was looking finer than I had left her or is it because I never noticed that she was that cute. “Are the Americans stronger than us?” I asked. “Hell no, they are more like broilers,” she assured me. I asked if I could see her that night but she refused and promised to fix e in her schedule after two days.

We made the appointment in Swahili and Luganda, her poor husband was looking at us like a fool. After two days, we met at a guest house in Mengo. We did not waste any time, she unwrapped herself since she was in a towel and started touching my body, she suddenly asked, “Why does your whopper grow bigger each day that passes?” “Because I am a Munyoro! I replied. “No, you are a master,” she said. 

She boxed my chest like she wanted to eat me up. When she could not take it anymore she asked, “Hyena where are the condoms?” Before I even pointed at them she had already jumped for them, unwrapped one and rolled it on my whopper. “Do you know that this is the greatest ‘majongozi’ I have ever had?” she said.

I wondered what she meant until she asked “don’t you watch supersport?” Meanwhile, the condom did not fit leaving about five inches bare. “You should go to Mulago for whopper reduction Hyena,” she said amidst laughter.

We made love as she cried, “ahh ah oh ohh, I hate you Hyena oh ah, I hate you so much.” “Why?” I asked. “Because I love you,” she added. “I really hate you because I failed to have your baby, oh ah ah yes, I miss you so much, I am sorry for all I did, it was all because of love, I really love you, please make love to me now! She screamed.

Her body was heating up, “osibomowe kuma yangu,” (do not burst my pot), she said. I made love to her like she wanted me to as I paid myself for the humiliation of her, back home in Busia.

She screamed to her best as she tore the silver chain that she wore around her waist. She pulled her hair like she had epilepsy or something close to that. As we rested, she told me about how she had taught her Muzungu all my sex styles and that was the reason he loved her so much.

“I know that broiler does it to other women,” she said. “But since I will be flying back I will live a happier life,” she said while holding me tightly. We made love until 5:00 pm. She calls every week telling me all the sweet words.

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