Mr. Hyena swings tycoon’s wife from Holiday Express Hotel

Today, let me share with you one of my recent sex capades. Some three weeks ago as I had gone illegally clubbing at Top bar, a Nvanungi look like approached me wanting to pull off some dance strokes with. I didn’t turn her down. Afterwards, she offered to buy me a drink. “Thank you … .i want milk,” I said and she smiled wondering how milk would be in such a place. I settled for a Pepsi. Half way into my drink, the DJ played Spice Girls’ ‘Two become one’ song. To this, I couldn’t ask God for any other sign.

It was evident that she was the one. We spent the following two hours getting to know each other. As a rule, I bragged of how I am the best cosmetics dealer in East and Central Africa! During this time, she also let me feel her Kandahar that was imprisoned in the knickers.

People, the thing was so big it was like she had hidden them in there (like the Kenyan babes who were nabbed shoplifting at Nakumatt some year’s back). Helen told me that she was married to a city tycoon of Indian origin who is always neglecting his manly duties.

She further went ahead and accused him of offside bonking. “Men these days….they are calamities,” I commented. “Including you,” she said to which I defended my dignity by telling her that I am a well-disciplined man. “Anyway besides sex, I won’t need anything else from you,” Helen said.

While still thinking about her statement, she snaked her hand down my venomous zone and teasingly looked into my face as if saying, “Are you man enough to swing me.” As you all know me, I am a man who loves challenges, I was more than ready to overcome this one. “How soon do you want my services?” I asked. “I was hoping tonight,” she replied.

By now, I couldn’t believe that everything was moving in my favor and so I left the club with her. I called Luzige (whom I had left in the club) and handed him my Beamer keys and warned him not to over-booze and drive.

I drove Helen to Holiday Express on Luwum Street. Along the way, she permitted me to briefly snake my hand into her tiny Kandahar. Up in our room, Helen lay on the bed and spread her legs daring me to buffet on the Kandahar. With my glittering tongue dangling out, I removed my shirt on suspicion that she could be waterlogged like Bwaise (during the rains).

I went on my knees and sailed my hand through her brown thighs and unhurriedly went for the red meat. I started fingering it as I pulled out my wallet to penegra to boost my sexual strength. I swallowed it before going on to buffet her Kandahar.

The moment my tongue tapped what felt like a small heart, Helen started screaming out my name so loud as if the Angel of Death had evaded her. “Ohhhh Hyena, eat it all, ohhhhhh … .eat as much as you want,” she moaned, signifying that her hairy meat was more ready for nailing. I condomsied my whopper and entered her jazz style. I swung to my level best, maneuvered around every corner of the whopper and pulled it out for some seconds.

To verify that she was sexually starved, even when the whopper was outside, Helen continued cheering me as if it was still inside. By now, we had used three CD’s. I told her to sit on the whopper and ride me like a horse.

That is when she proved to me that fatness isn’t a sexual disability by twisting her feet, resting them on my chest and working herself up and down. She told me that I had the sweetest whopper in Uganda. “You are even far better than that stupid dude of mine,” she added to which I told her that I shall always be there for her.

The whopper was hitting the Kandahar base and I expected her to gush out hundreds of hundreds of ml of el-nino but wapi, nothing was popping out. I couldn’t hold my magma anymore so I left antly, my whopper lost strength. She got off me, she said that was just the beginning.

She cleaned my whopper before subjecting it to a thorough buffet. With a combination of the saliva lubricant and the friction caused by her teeth, there was no way the whopper would escape an erection. I decided to go doggie. People, every woman has her own style because the moment I turned Helen for a doggie, she bent herself with her boobs hanging in the air, she expertly shook her bums.

The Kandahar opened like an entrance to a bee hive. I pushed in my condomised whopper and raised high so as to nail her hard and fast. That is when she told me to be gentle. “Slowly by slowly if you want me to cum,” she said. So I cut speed and went slowly.

I pressed the whopper which tapped the lower periphery of her Kandahar. I went like 20 times until Helen’s G-spot burst filling almost the whole bed with lots of gel-like oils. We both collapsed and rested for about 30 minutes after which we saw each other off. She promised to call me but she has never even beeped me. Maybe her tycoon guy adjusted to his behavior.

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


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