RAW HUMOUR! Mr.Hyena Bonks his Senga’s Kandahar Dry
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The best s3x comes from people you ain’t supposed to bonk. Like my senga Nabaweesi, she turned out to be very delicious and active in bed, yet she is one of the people I ain’t supposed to even think of in that regard. Coming from an extended family is somehow a problem as well, you end up missing out on some pleasures just because they are forbidden. Over the years, I’ve had to restrain myself from chewing some belles just because they are family, too ugly for me or even being my friends or kins ribs.
My grandmother’s cousins begot children who in Bunyoro culture are my uncles and aunts, most are mature old people, but there are some that are young, born in the 90s and 2000s and one of them is Nabaweesi. One glance at her is enough to conclude that God created her using waste material or when he wasn’t in the mood, very tired and probably suffering from general body weakness.
Apart from the big booty which vibrates whenever she walks, there is nothing else to appetize a man, the legs are out of tune with enkobogo that makes them seem one sided. She is always shouting and behaving as though one of the wires to her brain short-circuited; instincts have always told me that she ain’t delicious. But despite all that, she is my Senga and I have always accorded her due respect and thought it would be like that until death.
Some family members and neighborhood youth are every now and then nabbed or gossiped about using her for target practice. She is one of the village brothels. So, I kind of kwenyinyala her. Little did I know that I wasn’t immune from her spell, just that my time hadn’t come. But one evening at around 11pm as I walked from two failed bonking missions, regretting why I went for Mrs. Opio and Mrs. Leo instead of Maama Jane – whose husband, a boda rider doesn’t return home until 10pm, I bumped into Nabaweesi going through a short cut.
She jumped out of her skin on seeing me. “Oooh you frightened me,” she ranted. Formalities followed after which I asked if she was coming or going to meet her husband so that I would come along and demand dowry. Nabaweesi replied telling me how she was returning from visiting a belle that had just given birth. But for reasons beyond my comprehension, her body released a sweet scent which filled my nostrils charmcating me like an aphrodisiac. Mind you, I was already horny like hell.
I told Nabaweesi how I didn’t believe her then asked why she was such an adulterous woman. “I swear my nephew, I’ve not been committing adultery,” Nabaweesi yapped to which my answer was “I don’t believe you one single bit, auntie these days you’ve become very wise … .I would have to first check you and confirm.” As brainless as Nabaweesi is, she replied saying “check me if you want but what I’ve told you is the truth, I am not a liar”. She stopped and paused for me to check. I couldn’t believe how dumb she was.
However, part of me thought she was going to run away at the moment I moved my hand to check. To be sure, I asked what she would give me if I found evidence of her having just eaten things. “Anything you want” was her quick answer before asking me what I was to give her if I found her intact. I promised to buy her a dress. “You check,” Nabaweesi confidently dared me.
“And if you don’t buy my dress, you will see what I will do to you,” she threatened, prompting me to suspect her of intending to gossip about us. On pressing her to tell me what she was to do if I didn’t buy the dress, Nabaweesi said “I will never talk to you ever again.” Meanwhile, amidst the conversation, the lusting beast inside me was screaming at me to bonk Nabaweesi. Nevertheless, I was hesitant and lacked courage to go through with it. I thought of my integrity. Nabaweesi being so unpredictable she could go telling people. But the beast in me insisted on doing her one round other than going home to jerk off which seemed as my only other option.
And so, I snaked my hand into her dress and up the thighs. Nabaweesi spread them saying “I never thought you’re one of those people who don’t believe in me…for me” but before I could answer, my hand had reached the feathers, Nabaweesi wasn’t even wearing knickers. “See…you even forgot the knickers at his place,” I accused in a low tone. Only for her to reply telling me how she wasn’t wearing one because all her knickers were worn out. That she only had two left “I only wear them when I am going on important missions,”she defended herself.
On hearing that, I asked why her men didn’t buy her some. “I don’t have men….I don’t do those things….i returned the gun to the sub – county chief!” Nabaweesi yapped and I was like “take there” but before I could say more, the amount of her feathers caught my attention. “As she’s kataala….She doesn’t even shave!” That observation was interrupted by Nabaweesi spreading of the legs widest granting me one hundred percent access.
“As it’s plenty!” I silently thought as I checked the grotto from north to south, the eastern and western walls high like they were constructed with nine-nine bricks. “You know what, people may find us, come I check from here.” I pulled Nabaweesi from the path and into the bush. She followed sheepishly. After pulling her like fifty feet into the bush, I made her bend over. My plan was to use the bend over technique which avoids body contact as much as possible. So missionary was out of the question.
Good thing, Nabaweesi bent as ordered, I quickly installed an anti-virus which was meant for other belles. I used saliva as a lubricant. There was no evidence of having been invaded that day, week or even month. The elasticity was very good. To my surprise, she turned out to be delicious. The abyss felt like it was studded. “as this fool is delicious” I silently screamed.
However, there was one problem with Nabaweesi being shorter than me which made it hard for me to fully enjoy her bend over style prompting me to change techniques so I pushed Nabaweesi down for a doggy.
Whereas city belles would have complained how the ground was dirty etc, Nabaweesi did as ordered more like a slave. As I did my duty I said “I hope you don’t have AIDS” and she was like “do I look like I have bad luck?” prompting me to ask how bad luck comes into the equation. “AIDS is for people with bad luck,” Nabaweesi confidently told me. She then asked if I was satisfied like she wasn’t from doing those things.
“Not yet, there is one spot I haven’t checked!” was my quick answer. Nabaweesi replied telling me to take all the time I wanted. And so, I matched on, enjoyed the doggie as best as I could. Nabaweesi almost drowned me in eulogizing. Until this evening, I had never heard Nabaweesi utter words like daddie, sweetie and other morale boosting words belles use during this ceremony.
“As this fool is very delicious and active!” I thought to myself. I had never in my wildest dreams thought Nabaweesi was even a quarter to being this sweet. When she was sweet like the legendary virgins awaiting all men in Paradise. Unlike most belles who lay like dead bodies, Nabaweesi moved her body erotically more like a caterpillar. I cautioned her against ever telling anyone “If I ever hear of this, I will cut off your head,” I threatened.
Shortly after that, my candle melted, spilling all the wax. I retreated, uninstalled the anti-virus and regretted why I had danced her. “She is not my class, she may go gossiping as she has done on several occasions,” I worried as I threw the anti-virus away. After that, we continued on our journey. Nabaweesi begged me to fulfill my promise because she hadn’t done what I was accusing her of.
But like two hundred meters later, the pleasure muscle which hadn’t really fallen shot up demanding for another rap. I blamed the situation on the events as I fired. You see, as I fired, Nabaweesi had moved so I kind of fired in the air. So in the black viper’s understanding, it hadn’t really bitten it’s target and was likely to stay erect until it got its way.
Since Nabaweesi was available, I decided to solve the problem once and for good. So I pulled Nabaweesi into another ka-bush on the pretext of wanting to check some more. “Even if you check a million times, you won’t find any evidence because I have done those things in a very long time,” she ranted. I replied telling her how I would be the judge of that.
Once in the safety of the bush, I ordered Nabaweesi to lay down so that I could check her thoroughly. She did as ordered. Horny-ness had led me into doing something I was avoiding, that being kneeling before Nabaweesi’s empire. But I had no other alternative. “kasita it’s just once.”
Without much ado, I installed the anti-virus and went for a missionary. “But how do men find out when a woman has slept with another man?” Nabaweesi asked. I replied telling her how I could be killed for relieving such top secret information. Next was Nabaweesi saying “it seems every man in your family has a mega whopper” to which I was really then pressed to elaborate to her.
Three of my cousins, two uncles and two of my step brothers had danced her as rumors had it. On asking if she was gonna go confiding in people that we danced ourselves, Nabaweesi promised to never ever tell ko a soul. “Better not because we have not danced ourselves, I am only checking for evidence,” I tried fooling her.
The following three months, I chewed Nabaweesi every time I went to the village. And each time, I would vow in my heart how that was the last time. You see, unlike other belles who ask for this and that, Nabaweesi never asked for anything, but would let me hit it as if I paid a million dollars. All was fine and fun until Nabaweesi got pregnant. She kusiwuka and all that. People blamed her situation on her being pregnant because she no longer had guys buying her chapatis and other snacks she was used to.
No one knew who the father of the pregnancy was, but there were like seventeen suspects, seven of them being my blood. Those should have been enough suspects, however, some nosy women pressed Nabaweesi to confide in them another guy who may have danced her during the window of conception just in case she produced a child who may belong to the uncounted man.
On hearing such stuff, she asked if a spermatozoon could go through a condom, the answer to which was yes. And so Nabaweesi added my name to the list, almost giving three of the interrogators heart attacks. You see, three of the nosy women questioning her happened to be my bonkmates. They called and chucked me on the phone “be with your Nabaweesi,” they independently scoffed.
I’ve never been ashamed as was this incident. A lot of people concluded that we even bone zolos, our own children and sisters plus dogs and pigs. “If she has AIDS, she has infected you all,” one of the family heads yapped. My dreams were dominated by Nabaweesi producing me triplets, but she produced a very brown child who looks like Brown the boda guy. When pressed to explain, Nabaweesi was like “okay, even him, but he only did it twice, I didn’t think he was the winner.”
Nabaweesi should have been a big turning point lesson, however, I am one of those people with a strong desire for beautiful and attractive belles because in less than a month, I was busy dancing my cousin’s sexy delicious daughter. It was supposed to be a hit and run mission, but she is very delicious. Let’s meet some other time for that.
Until then, I remain Yours Truly Mighty Hyena.
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