Mr.Hyena finally accesses the pin-code to Dr. Maureen’s Kandahar, confirms that good things come to those who wait

Red-Peppers-Hyena-Retires

Without any doubt, patience pays. Conversely, it pains. This tale justifies that statement. Dr.Maureen is one hot nurse who works for a big hospital. I met her when I had gone to the hospital (where she works) to seek medical treatment. In fact, she is the one who attended to me. This was at the beginning of this year. Just like most medical personnel, Maureen told me to report to her, on a daily basis, so that she monitors my progress. This made me get close and closer to her to the extent that we exchanged contacts. After a couple of days, I confessed of how she was the woman of my dreams but she turned me down saying “you man, you have come for treatment ad you have now switched to another topic.” She further went ahead and opted to keeping me as a good friend. I didn’t give up, I continued calling her and telling her everything that I thought would make her happy.

After healing, I took her an envelope that contained 150k. This pleased her so much that she offered to give me free medical treatment as long as she continued working at that hospital. “Ehhhh Mr. Hyena thank you very much,” she joyfully said. “No patient has ever returned to do what you have done for me,” she lamented. “That’s how Ugandans are,” I told her. People, from this moment, each time I called Maureen, she would call me things like dear, sweet heart and things of that kind! This gave me morale to proceed with my quest for her Kandahar. I made sure that I call her three times a day during which I would humbly request her that if she can’t let me have a taste of her precious fruit, she woud at least let me feel it. To this, she would say no emphasizing that kissing was the only thing she could do with me. To this, I thought of giving up on her but how many of you can give up on Karita’s identical twin sister? I used every trick to access her Kandahar but she stood strong to her point. One day, she called me in the morning telling me of how she had moved to a new apartment. “I now live close to Super Fm,” she informed me. “Ohhh that is good for both of us….anyway whats up and what are you doing at the moment?” I asked her. “Nothing much…I am dying in my sofa set watching a heartbreaking Nigerian love flick,” she replied before adding that she was still in her night dress.

In hearing that, I wished I was at her window.”Night dress?” I wondered. “Yeah….night dress,” she assured me before adding that she was thinking about me. People, no woman has ever confessed of thinking about me that early. “About me…thinking what?” I asked her. “How can you ask me such a question?” she wondered. “In fact if you are not busy come over for breakfast,” she added. She further went ahead and clearly directed me to her house. Without much ado, I ran out of the house, jumped into the BMW and sped off to Maureen’s crib. In no time, I was already at her crib. To my disappointment, she was putting on a skirt. I complained but she calmed me down with a peck. She then ran to the shop and returned with milk and eggs. As she prepared breakfast, she asked about my family. “Besides my wife denying me sex for the past three months, everything is fair,” I said. “And why did she do that?” she caringly asked. “Because I refused her relatives to stay with us,” I replied. “If I were a guy, I wouldn’t marry chotera! My cousin dated one and he ended up losing everything he had. Now with you, it is the same case,” she said turning the eggs. For some an understandable reasons, Maureen begun acting like I was her hubby. As I ate my breakfast, she wrapped her arm around me telling me of how she has been missing me. “My Kandahar has been itching for the past six days,” she stammered. People, I felt shock waves hit my head but I managed to tell her that I was in a similar situation. “I haven’t done it in three months….i am now getting back pain,” I confesses thinking that she would right away invite me between her legs but she just said, “Ohhh sorry dear… that is marital torture of the highest order.”

That is when I begged her to let me to at least rub my whopper on her knickers till I cumme to which she snubbed. I collapsed to my knees saying, “Just on the kickers….please help me.” She refused claiming that no man would stop there. To this, I swore heaven and earth that I would be the first man to stop there. “Okay Maureen, if I go beyond there, reports me to police that I have been raping you,” I told her. The problem was that the whopper had now gotten hungry demanding for its right food. “Okay….okay, just on the knickers,” she said. “A friend in need is a friend indeed,” I cited before dropping down my pants. “Ohhh my God… it’s already erect,” Maureen surprisingly whispered on seeing the hard whopper. “Dear it has been like that for the past week,” I lamented. Without delay, Maureen pulled up her skirt exposing her brown thighs and extended to the edge of the sofa set chair. People, the Kandahar looked so big in the knickers. I felt sweetness and love arrows spear through my heart.

I right away moved between her legs. “I don’t make sounds,” Maureen confessed to which I told her that, “its okay….I have no problem with that.” I then began rubbing my whopper on the skirt but I made sure that I rub it against the walls of her Kandahar thereby turning her on. As I rubbed the whopper on the Kandahar walls, Maureen started chewing her lower lip after which she pulled the knickers aside telling me to enter. By this time, Maureen’s lust had grown like Buganda’s lust for federo. She wrapped her arm around my body thereby tightening herself onto me. To this, there was no way my whopper would fail to head to its rightful destination. The moment it entered her, it was like I had switched on her break dance switch. She began trembling and breathing heavily. This time, she held me tighter as over 100ml of el-nino sprung out of her Kandahar while over 200ml of magma gashed out of my shafting system. We had a double orgy.

Till then, I remain Yours Truly, The Mighty Hyena.


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