During my good old days, I managed to find my way into an Italian pink Kandahar. It all began when a rascal grabbed this lady’s bag along Kampala road. Luckily enough, this guy ran towards me and I managed to get hold of him. She was very thankful and asked me to her home that evening. I felt so flattered though I accepted the offer. She directed me to her home in Makindye mukizungu and told me to join her for dinner. She told me her name was Duc and I knew I would forget it so I noted it down in my phone book. At about six, I was at her gate. She had already told her gateman about me so did not find any problems explaining about myself.
I was treated like a king and she kept telling me how hospitable Ugandans were. I assured her that It was not a thing for all Ugandans but just the few who think and care for the foreign visitors. Of course, I wanted her to think of me as ‘that special Ugandan.’ I realized there was no sign of male species in her home, so I tactfully inquired about her husband and she told me that he works in Kabale but checks on her every weekend.
“So madam, do you have any job for some poor guy like me,” I asked. “What are your qualifications? She asked. “I can do anything ranging from laying the bed to cleaning the ash tray (blow job),” I answered. I then changed the topic and asked her if she could allow me to touch her hair. “Why would I refuse you to touch my hair, you saved my life, come on touch it,” she said while moving towards me. I told her I wanted to touch on her body to see how it feels. “You can touch wherever you want, that bugger could have taken off with my bag,” she said.
I again requested to taste her lips. I continued stroking her hair. I licked her whole face and blew hot air into her ears. Am sure she loved it because after some minutes she started aah, eeh, waah, hmm in ecstasy. I slid my finger into her slim Kandahar and fingered in slow motion. Her taps opened up and poured warm magma into my hands. I licked my fingers, inserted them in her again and made her lick her own warm magma. She tore off her clothes like a mad woman, wrestled me on the floor and peeled off my clothes. She sucked my whopper as she wiggled her flat butt like a piston. She looked old but her tits were strong and stiff. I went down on her and sucked her pink pot dry. She went on top of me and put her ass right into my nose. I sniffed her smelly hole and rolled my tongue into her A**hole. She screamed in ecstasy and increased the speed at which she was sucking my whopper and rubbing my balls vigorously. I then felt her Kandahar muscles squeeze and release my tongue sensationally and I knew she had finished.
I didn’t want to leave her yearning for more so I turned to her for my famous jazz and hit her big Kandahar north east, west and centre vigorously so that she sighed with relief when I stopped. I then turned her for a missionary; she took me in whole heartedly and thanked me for the job well done. We did it for almost an hour and we were disrupted by a call from Yasmin, my chotera babe. I lied to the muzungu that my sister needed me, so I rushed to take a shower and she followed me there. She positioned her rear pot in my face and told me to lick her again. I did it as she supported herself on the tub and told me to enter her from behind. I did whatever she told me to do and in a minute she let out a milky spout. She then pinned me on the wall and swallowed my whopper.
I poured my magma into her mouth and she swallowed it with pleasure. I put on my trousers and she offered me her husband’s t-shirt. She called her driver and told him to drop me at my place. Yasmin asked me why I had taken so long to get back home and I lied to her that I was out with my friends. When we got to bed, she faced the wall and told me to enter her from behind. She caressed my whopper but it could not get up. Yasmin stood up, looked me in the eye and ordered me to tell her what was going on.
I pretended to be tired but she couldn’t let me rest. She rained slaps and blows in my face. I tried to run away but she pulled me back and told me to bonk her or lose her for good. I had to do something, I shook my whopper rapidly and it stood. I bonked her vigorously until she told me to stop. That night I slept like a real king. Imagine having a mixture of Italian and chotera Kandahars! It feels great. I need a nap.
Till then, I remain yours truly, Mr. Hyena.