RAISE THE TERROR ALERT TO "DAMN"!!!!

You know, for years I have been an avid student of the human body, especially when it comes to sexuality. I have let myself delve deep into this widely misunderstood realm (since most people, unfortunately, approach it with a one track mind...to dip Mr. Wang into Ms. Beaver and pump wildly as if in an attempt to both dig for oil as well as create diamonds). In order to fully experience what I studied, I also engaged in practicals (to put it lightly), just to know what I'm talking about. Now, it was during one of these practicals that my self proclamation of indepth knowledge in this field came to bite me in the ass...and hard.

See, like a month ago, I was at my boy's boy's party, don't really remember what it was for, by the time I got there I was already kidogo drunk, and I really didn't care what the hell the party was all about, as long as there was food, women and liquor. My lesson began as I was sipping a concoction of fire and brimstone (coz as soon as I took a sip of it, I got so hot, mpaka I could feel it on my nails). So anyway, as I kept on kunywaing my beverage from the depths of Hades, I see a reflection of a girl standing somewhere in the room, and since everything was spinning, my brain tells me to look stare at one spot and soon, she'll spin into view. Then I force myself to realize that I'm really not that drunk yet, and slowly I turn to inspect the source of the reflection in the corner. And there she was, Lynn, standing in all her ghetto fabulous fabulousness, in a skirt at least two sizes too small and a tank top (or whatever they're called, I know as much about women's fashion as I do about brain surgery). Her wonderbra had pushed her titties so far up, I think I saw frost on top of the things...but again, I was a considerable distance away from her, and my eyesight isn't what it used to be (and I hate carrots). Of course I get all excited, and I walk up to her, mostly in a bid to check her out to further explore the question of whether to katia her or not.

As I get closer to her, I start to notice a few things about her were kidogo off, for one thing, her hair was kidogo nappy, a little bit dishevelled for my taste...and I thought of asking her if one of her hair products was a grenade and if she had used it tonight (I can overlook that...it's kinda been a long night). The other thing I noticed on her was her lips, which were so dry, she looked like she had a porcupine in a deadly death grip in her mdomo...but me being the generous, understanding gentleman that I am (ok...fine...me being the horny jamaa I am) I was like, that's nothing that a little lip balm couldn't fix...well, in her case, a tub of vaseline...coz if she were to give me a BJ with those things I might as well start peeing sitting down, coz I know Bw. John would look like he was attacked by a bunch of knife wielding ninjas. Her toes looked like they had their own story to tell, and I'm sure if they could talk, they'd say that they were living out Cinderella's ugly sisters ordeal with the glass slipper on a daily basis (for those of you who don't know, the feet were being crammed into shoes so small, they practically had to be folded in half in order to fit into the shoes). As in her corns and bunyons were so big, they had their own time zones...just big for no reason...things looked like they were pregnant with some mutant babies. Immediately I blame the booze for my "distorted" perspective of reality.

So, against my obviously better judgement, I go for this girl, probably coz I'm thinking that she's going to be an easy target and I don't feel particularly compelled to work for some ass. So, after using the "I was standing there and I noticed you, and I noticed you noticing me" line, which worked by the way, I manage to convince her to go to some room and see if we can make an real party out of this evening. She agrees and we try to get in to a couple of rooms, which were locked until we get to the room with all the coats, and we start making out like crazy...which at first annoyed me coz she was shoving her big ass ulimi into my mouth like she was trying to taste my tonsils...I mean, how french can one person get? Anyway, soon enuff, she start going downtown and obviously I know what's coming next, so I tell her lemme sit on the bed, coz drunkenness and sexual pleasure turn someone's knees to absolute jelly, and I don't want to pass out with my dong sticking out of my pants should I fall and hit my head on whatever...end up having concussions on both heads. So, she goes to work and I can tell that she has done this a good number of times before... she's really good at it, and I don't know whether to think that she's a ho and be scared or be happy coz practice makes perfect.

After like ten minutes of doing a good job of making my shuma stiffen up like I was about to use it to drill for oil, she gets up and tells me to do her, which I never really have a problem with, but since I really don't know this girl, instinctively, my hand goes into her pants, not to give her pleasure as such, no. I did that coz that's my guaging tool, guages sensitivity of the clit, so that I know if she's more of a clit person or a penetration person...I bet not too many jamaas know this trick, do they? Anyway, as my fingers are busy trying to immitate a bad case of sign language, I start to notice a smell...I know this smell, but this is...it's...growing...I don't know...stronger...worse...what the hell is that...and then it hits me...full force, like a crash dummy in one of those crash tests...and I pull my head back so fast, I actually get a mild case of whiplash. I toa my hand from her pants faster than you can blink your eyes and I look to see if I'd lost some fingers to the abomination that was her sehemu ya aibu...in this case, aibu kubwa zaidi. Then me, in my ?confusion?dumbness or whatever it was, as if to confirm the source of the smell, I do the unthinkable and I bring my hand to my nose. My eyes immediately begin to well up with tears as I look at my hand in such a way that you'd think a shark just bit the thing off. Yaani this thing was tupaing so hard, if it was a baseball game, both the home and away team would have been struck out on the very first pitch of the game.

And of course, the girl pretends like she can't smell it, and me, since I'm drunk, my discretion is out the window at this time, and I make her smell my hand...yaani this thing was smelling of pure evil...and she wanted me to go down on her!!! Kwani I want my tombstone to read, "succumbed to a short whiff of an evil vagina", that shit would be totally embarrassing in heaven...everyone would be clowing me and all. At this time I eye a packet of listerine pocket packs and I start to consider the option of holding her down and sticking a few of those babies in there, hell...she's going to be the first woman to have to rinse out her vagina with listerine instead of her mouth...and she'd have to do it for the full thirty seconds. And then, as if this whole scenario hadn't degenerated into a full terrorist attack, she proceeds to defend her coochie...explaining to me that this is a woman's scent, coz of all the secretions that they have and all...and I'm like kwani you secrete cat poop...coz you smell just like it...I mean...that smell is actually so bad that I think I can actually see it.

Of course, she gets pissed off like a mutha, and I can see a vein pop out in the middle of her forehead, as well as the blood flowing through it (or is it the cat poop?), and I know it's about to get ugly. I try to excuse myself, and I see her reaching for her shoe, and as I try to make my hurried exit, her shoe smacks the fingers which were in her (how much punishment can they take in one day???) I go into the kitchen and find some dish washing detergent and I scrub my fingers religiously with some steel wool that was on the sink...and not surprisingly so, the smell doesn't quite fully go away. I start thinking of exactly how much it would cost me to get finger or hand transplants...and from how serious I was while thinking that, I realize that that evil smell had totally sobered me up...as in completely. I think of letting her know that she could bottle the smell up and make some money (just in case you're not a chaser tablet swallowing kind of person), but I decide otherwise...coz I'm like we need the o-zone layer a whole lot more than we need sober people. Fuck it...I'm going home!!!