Let me tell you a Christmas story of 2021 when Mrs.Gitta juggled five men including yours truly that I know of-prompting me to conclude that these things of onjita….onzita are faked by women to make men feel strong.
Because, if you heard her screaming how I was killing her as I hit her with my maangwenos, you would have made an alarm, broken the door as you called the police.
I am also coming to understand that as men are out quenching our lust for women, they are also doing the same…..and in their case hitting two birds with one stone.
The birds being making money and having fun at the same time.
I can authoritatively say that by December 18th, most sexually active women in my village if not the whole country had shaved in preparation for X-mas business.
I am sure, they all prayed to God to bless their trade in the forthcoming days. And boy, oh boy, God did bless their trade.
Despite being in lockdown, folks in my village made merry until morning like we were not in the dusty republic.
Shortly after lunch, I received a call from Mrs.Gitta–who wanted to give me a X-mas present which was wrapped in her knickers.
We met in a lodge seven kilometers from the village and I drilled her for two hours like I had a vendetta against her animal.
The woman screamed so loud filling the whole place with noises.
Those outside may have even thought I was in the wrong hall.
“Sweetie, My king…….bonker of my animal. Even if all other men died and you remain. You’re the only useful man on earth,” she said.
She sounded sincere, fooling me into thinking I had reached where no other man had ever reached. I kwagagala like a turkey.
“You’ve broken every joint in my body, I am heading home to sleep. Am even feeling sleepy, I don’t know if I won’t fall off the boda,” Mrs.Gitta told me before leaving the lodge.
Since I had reached where no other man had ever reached, I decided not only to stop at that, and so spoiled her with 50k to go buy her children (Mr.Gitta’s) drinks and snacks.
She left first, as I killed time on social media after which, I left the lodge and walked around the ka–town only to bump into Bamu the boda guy.
On catching up with him, I accused him of being on an adultery mission.
We got chatting and joking as usual only for him to tell me how this was the worst X-mas of his life.
“There is a bad luck woman I boned early in the morning, but since then, I’ve not got another woman…..yet usually by this time, I have nailed at least five,” he said
I replied asking which woman was such that I would avoid her.
“Mrs.Gitta!”Bamu said. I felt something poke my heart. I choked on my saliva and coughed several times then asked, “you mean that woman also commits adultery?”
Bamu replied telling me how she had been detoothing him for nearly a year, but she finally ran out of luck early in the morning.
“Is she sweet?” I asked who Bamu was, “she screams! My goodness, I’ve never chewed a belle that screams like her. She also has waist work!”
On hearing that, I was like, “oooh god, he really danced her too. So, it wasn’t my gigantic animal that made her scream and wiggle her waist, it’s her act.”
On telling Bamu to take me back to the village, he declined because he was in this ka-town to nail some ka-woman.
So, we parted ways. I returned to my village, joined revelers at Patu’s bar which was officially opening that day.
I was surprised to see Mrs.Gitta dancing like a teenager. Men pulled her in all directions, but she wasn’t shy nor worried I could get annoyed.
What had energized her broken joints? I don’t really know, but I guess it was water like stuff she was drinking.
Close to 11pm, Gitta, her hubby nabbed her pants down with Amos the taxi driver, and beat her so rough.
If not for people intervening, she would now be in a coma or six feet under.
So, before the end of 25thDecember, I had confirmed three men including mwah who had boned Mrs.Gitta.
I concluded she was a slut and so cancelled off plans we were making.
“I will only use her during extreme emergencies,” I silently resolved.
She’s been calling and deceiving me how she wasn’t doing anything with Amos when Gitta found them.
That Gitta was just a jealous husband.
“Hyena, you’re the only man in my life. I share the bed with Gitta, but it’s you I be thinking of even when he is doing me,” she said
Her tone is so convincing, I decided to forgive her, because in truth; her game is good.
Our plan had been to relocate her to Kampala such that I would enjoy her uninterrupted.
However, three days later, I received a call from Grace of the saloon who started by thanking me for being one of the men who ran a train on Mrs.Gitta on X–mass.
I naturally denied knowledge of what she was talking about.
But Grace told me not to waste my time denying anything because she and Mrs.Gitta were good friends.
“Didn’t you take her to Paradise lodge? Didn’t you give her 50k? Didn’t she, among other things, lollipop you?”
If Mrs.Gitta and Grace were the level of friendship that talks lollipop, there was no point in denying.
“Who told you all that?”I asked as if I didn’t already know.
“The woman who juggled five men!”a pissed off Grace shot back.
“Five men?”I exclaimed.
“Kibwetere, You, Amos, Morris and Bamu all on X-mas and she was still going strong if not for her hubby interrupting,” Grace yapped.
On 24th it was your friend Hussein the butcher, afande Mike and Mukonjo. Should I continue?” Grace asked. “No. Stop there,” I said.
“Should I ask you to delete my number or you will voluntarily do it?” She giggled to which I was, “give me one last chance.”
But Grace cut off the connection.
A prostitute can serve more than ten men, but it’s something they train for–process by process. But Mrs.Gitta was a married woman for Christ’ sake! For how long she’s been handling more than one dude in the shortest period possible only she knows.
Anyways, I am sure, there are other women who juggle more men than Mrs.Gitta, so I am off to eavesdrop on women’s conversations.
I will fill you in on my findings as soon as I get something.
Till then, I remain yours truly, Mr. Hyena. (GOT A HOT STORY? CALL/TEXT/WHATSAPP 0777959024 OR EMAIL firstname.lastname@example.org)