Hyena Hooks American Sex Tourist, Senselessly Shafts Her from Grand Imperial Hotel
?
Some time back, the press published screaming headlines of tourists who fly into our motherland and shaft our local honeys, after which they brag around.
But today, let me tell you of a female tourist who flew in before lockdown to have fun as well. On the “Fateful” day, Abby asked me to drive him to Garden City for some shopping. I too, took a tour of the place.
During my own tour, my eyes landed on a copycat of Serena Williams. As usual, I viewed her legs which turned out to be the most beautiful ones. As she bent to pick something, I saw her sharp boobs that got the blood in my shafting system boiling. When she walked, the bums did the kapapala dance. She must have realized that I was tracking her.
So, she stopped, fearing I could have been a stalker. I passed her. “Hello,” she said to which I replied in a husky hello. “Aren’t you that girl who plays tennis in Wimbledon….the one that always wins?” I asked.
Surprisingly, her eyes were glued on me. “You mean the William sisters? She asked. “Yes, those twins,” I replied. “No, I am not one of them…may be it is a case of mistaken identity,” she said. On hearing that, I accused her for not being a Ugandan national. “You are right, I am from Georgia,” she said. “Isn’t that the country that recently fought with Russia?” I asked.
“No….not that Georgia, I come from Georgia, U.S.A,” she replied. Before I could make up my words, this babe went on to tell me of how Africa is very beautiful. “Visit Gulu and Karamoja….you will see the most beautiful part of Africa,” I told her before introducing myself as Mr. Hyena. “Hyena is my name,” I proudly introduced myself officially. “Hyena! What a wild and unique name!” she wondered. “Nice to meet you Mr. Hyena….i am Trisha,” she said feeling my hand.
People, I don’t know what cosmetics people in Georgia, U.S.A use because when Trisha’s hands caressed mine, it sent electronic waves throughout my shafting system. I almost cummed in my boxers. We talked about the general African life.
Apparently, before she came, she used to think that African cities were made of huts. “That is no more….gone are the days of the Stone Age,” I defended my country (because the Big man says that we should be patriotic). She appreciated of how Uganda has beautiful people. “That is why Sir Harry Johnstone named it the Pearl Of Africa….but it is very hard to find a free woman in Uganda,” I told her. “We just buy,” I added. “So, how much would a Ugandan man pay for me?” Trisha asked. “I really don’t know,” I replied. “I mean offer in dollars,” Trisha added.
Guys, I was confused and for the first time, I was short of words. “You are very handsome Mr. Hyena…those eyes and lips shouldn’t belong to an African, they should belong to a Black American….so make me an offer,” she said. “Do you have 200 dollars?” Trisha asked to which I negatively nodded my head. “How can a handsome guy like you fail to have 200 dollars? Trisha wondered. “Okay, follow me,” she added after which we rolled down to Grand Imperial Hotel.
Before checking into room 08, it all seemed like a dream come true. “I am all yours, so how do you like it?” Trisha asked while wrapping her hand around me. Trisha moved her hand southwards, pulled out my cobra and started surfing it from its head to the base. That very moment, I was sure Allah was watching us. “Can you do like what they do in Blue Movies?” I asked Trisha, in a naïve tone. “Do what? She asked. “Kiss my little cowboy and play around with it,” I replied. “Cow boy!” she exclaimed before bursting out into laughter.
She then unbelted my trousers and pushed me backwards to the bed while saying, “Would you mind eating my fruit as I eat your cowboy?” Trisha asked. “I wouldn’t mind but….it is a taboo in the African culture,” I replied. She was now kneeling before my legs. “For us it isn’t a taboo,” Trisha said as she took my whopper for a thorough BJ, servicing it with her saliva. I fell backwards and stretched my hands like Jesus Christ on the cross.
The whopper then became hungrier and started demanding for its share. I rolled off the bed and pulled out a CD out of my trouser pockets to dress the weapon of destruction. I held the twinnies African American Kandahar and gave it a little finger job as she screamed, “Ohhh baby…feel it…feel me. It is all yours….i hope it is tasty” Thank you….i said as I turned her for the western jazz. I drilled her but it seems she wasn’t getting enough of me. After the first half, Trisha asked for another romp.
Trisha was in control of the second half. She applied the cow girl style, moving on top and jazzing me. I then felt magma erupting from my shafting system. It was over one liter. I then pulled out another CD, rolled it onto my whopper and headed for extra time. Surprisingly, Trisha asked we whether I was well versed with Dr. Kitch’s song (the song that has the chorus of; I push it in, she pull it out, I push it back, she start to shut, Dr. Kitch, you’re terrible I can’t stand the size of your needle). “No, I have even never heard of Dr. Kitch,” I lied to her.
She then pulled out her IPhone 11 and played it. “Now shaft me while following that rhythm,” Trisha ordered. For a few seconds, Trisha sang along the song as I shafted her. “Whenever someone is bonking me with this song in the background, I can’t fail to cum,” Trisha said before she released over 500 ml of her e-nino.
“Ehhh Hyena…I have never had such a good moment from any man,” Trisha said. “Whenever you need me, just give me a call, I will be there for you,” I said as I handed her my biz card. “I can’t fail to call you…I may even give you a call tonight,” Trisha promised.
Till then, I remain Yours Truly, The Mighty Hyena.
About Post Author
