They say
what happens in the bedroom is art. There usually is a calculation of whether i
should do this or that and sometimes acting on a response, but make no mistake,
it’s not mathematics. What happened on 12th July last year was unsatisfying,
disappointing and confusing to me. Apparently, it was insufferable to her.
It was Hamida's birthday. Luckily my folks had gone to a burial ceremony in some deep village in Kwale County. This was the day i decided that she could come to see where i live. I would be all alone in the house, so I expected something to happen. Getting a "Mswahili" from Mombasa island is a bit harder than from other societies in other neighborhoods. Their culture is conservative. You have to look for the errant ones or you must really be so much to impress them.
Three Kilometers after crossing Likoni ferry on the mainland is a stage known as Inuka. There is a small market for fruits and vegetables. On your left, there is a cement block tiles road famously known as Cabro. Two hundred meters deep on this road is the Inuka police station. This whole road is filled
with different businesses, mostly by Somalis. Off the road, five hundred meters more to the right is where you will find my humble abode. It’s not a straight path; houses have been built without a plan in this area. Shonda, is the name of the village. Famous for harboring outlaws, fugitives, and drunkards. One could easily read eerie from Hamida's face while we walk across these paths to my quarters.
Among the pseudo-classes of Bedroom art is dirty talk. Fine art is dirty talk. It does not mean talking about what you swept on the floor or dirt found on your cloth. Its words and phrases that you say to turn your partner on and get them excited for the action. I remember my first time when i learnt
about it, i tried "You are gonna get my spit that tastes like ice-cream" to mean tongue kiss to some girl. I found out some words are just not in sync with dirty talk. They disgust instead of sending butterflies to stomachs.
Talking dirty should first open up a world of make-believe to your partner, and giving them hope or belief that you are going to give it to them. There are no specific words or a manual to follow, you just have to be creative. It’s sailing on an ocean of romantic discovery. While mechanical bulls and other faculty toys are not free, this is. Your mouth and creativity are the selling points.
The first mistake i made with Hamida was tearing the lower part of her dress. There are many girls who would kill for this scenario. It meant wildness and desire in the romantic world. And i wanted to show Hamida how the word "wild" is spelt in my bedroom. "What have you done? I came with only this dress, how will I return home?" I cooled her down and reminded her she still has her Buibui which will cover the dress. At this juncture, you get second thoughts if you should continue the wildness or play holy.
A year and a half ago, i had a near similar incident with Mkasi, a girl from Tiwi. She was averse to using handcuffs. The idea was bizarre to her and we ended up having a boring pleasure. I asked myself what is it with girls from the East African coastline? Don’t they know there is an exciting world besides the words "I’m sending my parents to your parents next week?" To realize your fantasy, you have to embrace wildness, naughty and even be kinky.
With non-coastal hotties, they seem to have adapted fast from our western sisters. Maybe it’s the novels, videos or they have been with them and learnt. The activity will be performed as if it was choreographed. They won’t be surprised by a tear of their cloth. They will match your moves one by one. You spray cologne they have perfume. You are athletic, they are bendy and flexible. You talk dirty, they do too. And they enunciate while you grunt. All this, and especially the dirty talk is not foreign to them.
I had expected Hamida to respond sweetly and reciprocate from the go, but it seems i was going to have a hard time here. Kissing, oh everybody knows it. Everyone likes it, there seems to be no underdog among them on this. You unhook and draw down their lingerie while you kiss. And since i think all the kinky stuff is off, dirty talk remains my only option with Hamida. I spank her tushy and ask her in a faint heavy voice "who’s your daddy?" I regretted those words the minute they were out of my lips. They changed her whole demeanor and mood. She got out of the bed and took her clothes while ranting. "Why would you disrespect me and my father?" she asked. “Why would you bring a picture of my father in our pleasures? Have you no conscience? You are disgusting!"
I received insults and curses from a lady who didn’t want to hear me out and explain myself. This was a loss. I thought if i didn’t get in the sack i should at least enjoy the foreplay, but No. She wore her clothes and went away without a proper goodbye. Leaving me high, and a feeling that something was about to implode inside of me. I vowed(later, vow broken) never to go after "Waswahili." The Aishas, Mariamus, and Fatumas from the coast are only good for peaceful marriage and family. Not for fun and experiencing colorful flavors of romance.
They have no idea or appreciation for the sanctity of the spoken word in an alluring voice. "Come to Pappa", "Talk dirty to me", "I wanna slather your sexy body with hot chocolate and slowly lick it off," "Say my name." are all common dirty talk that one should not freak out from in this century. It’s unlucky that our missionary sisters will continue to torture us for long as we even entertain the idea of something as common as a mild spank, because the eye that will stare at you, you would wish you had powers on the hands of time.
It was Hamida's birthday. Luckily my folks had gone to a burial ceremony in some deep village in Kwale County. This was the day i decided that she could come to see where i live. I would be all alone in the house, so I expected something to happen. Getting a "Mswahili" from Mombasa island is a bit harder than from other societies in other neighborhoods. Their culture is conservative. You have to look for the errant ones or you must really be so much to impress them.
Three Kilometers after crossing Likoni ferry on the mainland is a stage known as Inuka. There is a small market for fruits and vegetables. On your left, there is a cement block tiles road famously known as Cabro. Two hundred meters deep on this road is the Inuka police station. This whole road is filled
with different businesses, mostly by Somalis. Off the road, five hundred meters more to the right is where you will find my humble abode. It’s not a straight path; houses have been built without a plan in this area. Shonda, is the name of the village. Famous for harboring outlaws, fugitives, and drunkards. One could easily read eerie from Hamida's face while we walk across these paths to my quarters.
Among the pseudo-classes of Bedroom art is dirty talk. Fine art is dirty talk. It does not mean talking about what you swept on the floor or dirt found on your cloth. Its words and phrases that you say to turn your partner on and get them excited for the action. I remember my first time when i learnt
about it, i tried "You are gonna get my spit that tastes like ice-cream" to mean tongue kiss to some girl. I found out some words are just not in sync with dirty talk. They disgust instead of sending butterflies to stomachs.
Talking dirty should first open up a world of make-believe to your partner, and giving them hope or belief that you are going to give it to them. There are no specific words or a manual to follow, you just have to be creative. It’s sailing on an ocean of romantic discovery. While mechanical bulls and other faculty toys are not free, this is. Your mouth and creativity are the selling points.
The first mistake i made with Hamida was tearing the lower part of her dress. There are many girls who would kill for this scenario. It meant wildness and desire in the romantic world. And i wanted to show Hamida how the word "wild" is spelt in my bedroom. "What have you done? I came with only this dress, how will I return home?" I cooled her down and reminded her she still has her Buibui which will cover the dress. At this juncture, you get second thoughts if you should continue the wildness or play holy.
A year and a half ago, i had a near similar incident with Mkasi, a girl from Tiwi. She was averse to using handcuffs. The idea was bizarre to her and we ended up having a boring pleasure. I asked myself what is it with girls from the East African coastline? Don’t they know there is an exciting world besides the words "I’m sending my parents to your parents next week?" To realize your fantasy, you have to embrace wildness, naughty and even be kinky.
With non-coastal hotties, they seem to have adapted fast from our western sisters. Maybe it’s the novels, videos or they have been with them and learnt. The activity will be performed as if it was choreographed. They won’t be surprised by a tear of their cloth. They will match your moves one by one. You spray cologne they have perfume. You are athletic, they are bendy and flexible. You talk dirty, they do too. And they enunciate while you grunt. All this, and especially the dirty talk is not foreign to them.
I had expected Hamida to respond sweetly and reciprocate from the go, but it seems i was going to have a hard time here. Kissing, oh everybody knows it. Everyone likes it, there seems to be no underdog among them on this. You unhook and draw down their lingerie while you kiss. And since i think all the kinky stuff is off, dirty talk remains my only option with Hamida. I spank her tushy and ask her in a faint heavy voice "who’s your daddy?" I regretted those words the minute they were out of my lips. They changed her whole demeanor and mood. She got out of the bed and took her clothes while ranting. "Why would you disrespect me and my father?" she asked. “Why would you bring a picture of my father in our pleasures? Have you no conscience? You are disgusting!"
I received insults and curses from a lady who didn’t want to hear me out and explain myself. This was a loss. I thought if i didn’t get in the sack i should at least enjoy the foreplay, but No. She wore her clothes and went away without a proper goodbye. Leaving me high, and a feeling that something was about to implode inside of me. I vowed(later, vow broken) never to go after "Waswahili." The Aishas, Mariamus, and Fatumas from the coast are only good for peaceful marriage and family. Not for fun and experiencing colorful flavors of romance.
They have no idea or appreciation for the sanctity of the spoken word in an alluring voice. "Come to Pappa", "Talk dirty to me", "I wanna slather your sexy body with hot chocolate and slowly lick it off," "Say my name." are all common dirty talk that one should not freak out from in this century. It’s unlucky that our missionary sisters will continue to torture us for long as we even entertain the idea of something as common as a mild spank, because the eye that will stare at you, you would wish you had powers on the hands of time.
