Sometime back when my sister was still at MUK, I never ran short of babes. Every night she made sure that I had a super babe to warm my bed. Some girls used to come with her, not knowing that she was setting them up for me. Almost all her friends who came to my home knew what to do.

There was this particular Karamojong babe who proved to be very stubborn. Every time she would come with my sister, she would decline to contribute anything on the bonking topic.

This babes name as Evelyn. She was dark, skinny, with very minute bums. Although she had nothing special about her, I wanted to enter her Kandahar to discover what it felt like to bonk a k’jong. One day, I presented to her my manifesto and she told me that, even if I danced on a needle, she would never let me enter her.

So many times I tried to push in my whopper from behind as she bent washing my clothes, but this babe was a real warrior she would wrestle me and tell me to joke with local babes who give their goods for free. She claimed that hers was worth so many cows not Rolex. I asked her what I would do for her to let me taste her fruit but she assured me that she was already engaged to a fellow k’jong and needed nothing from me.

I tried to out reason her that people don’t steal from deserted houses but the ka-girl assured me that she heard of that before so nothing was new to her. I somehow gave up but because there were many babes craving for my whopper and I feared her bony Kandahar would hurt me. Years run very fast and she finished campus without letting me taste her bony Kandahar.

The reunion

Six years later, I met this babe at a reunion party organized by Makerere students Association. I realized she had added some weight and was in the company of a huge guy. She was so excited to see me and introduced me to her friends as the “funny guy I used to tell you about.” They all laughed, leaving me wondering what she used to tell them about me.

I tried to ask them how funny I was but instead they laughed louder; it made me feel uncomfortable. After we had exchanged phone numbers, I excused myself but promised to call her sometime. At the party, I was in the company of some babe called Tina. Tina is a good friend of mine though we sometimes bonk when we get a little high, I met her when I had gone to bench for some fool called Sheila. This Sheila was not in her room and decided to pick on her roommate Tina.


Tina was so sweet and she had the longest twin towers I had ever encountered. Meanwhile Evelyn was bombarding me with messages, asking me whether I was still interested in her. I assured her that her chance had long gone and I was committed to someone serious with me. I wonder how women think, she was accusing me of using her yet I had never slept with her.

I took it cool and told her I was willing to take her back into my life. I directed her to my muzigo and told her to drop by anytime she feels like. She immediately told me she was willing to spend a night at my place. I then went and lied to Tina that my sister had had an accident and I had to run to the hospital immediately.

She insisted on going with me but I convinced her that it would be better for her to stay and enjoy the party with her friends. I promised to call her when I get to the hospital. I said all this in a hurry so she doesn’t get to say any word.

The fruit

I was happy I was going to enter that Promised Land between a karimojong’s legs. On my way home, I bought a box of rough riders ready to butcher my prey. I shook my whopper in all directions to make sure it was strong enough. Within a few minutes, we were at my place; I didn’t waste my time asking her why she had denied me access to her pot all that time.

All I did was to first pin her on the wall and plant a very passionate kiss on her wide lips. I carried her to my bedroom and gave her a thorough licking before fingering her. Her Kandahar was so rough like sand had been poured in there. This turned me on the more. I condomised my whopper and started jazzing her. To my surprise, she pushed me away, saying it was going to widen her Kandahar. She told me that she preferred the in and out movements.

I did that for some time and she was just mute. I started jazzing her again and eventually she started singing in her mother tongue. She was wiggling her tiny butt rhythmically and the millet grains in her Kandahar matched very well with the roughrider and brought out a very strange sensation.

She got up in the middle of the night and started sucking my whopper. I turned her for a goatee and inserted my gu-thing deeper, she yelled on top of her voice and told me to go and take all the cows in Karamoja.

This time, she gushed out the slimy stuff; I dipped my finger into her Kandahar and licked them. I pushed the fingers into her Kandahar again and made her lick her own juices from my fingers. I feel like seeing her again to have a taste of her salty Kandahar waters. Evelyn, why don’t we meet tomorrow on this very page?

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