Row row row your boat, gently down the stream. Gently down the stream.
If she worked at Kenya Power, she would be the kind of dame to report a fake fire just to have them cause a black out at my place. She is a little taller than me. She likes her food well prepared. She loved it when I cooked for her. She sat on my kitchen bar stool and watched me cook. She liked to joke. Sometimes she would play with my mind, and I would believe her. Then in the end I would laugh at myself for believing her. I loved her sense of humor. She wore light blue underwear. Not a thong a complete underwear. She sometimes wore jeans, very rarely did she wear tights. She laughed. And I loved the way she laughed. She was working. So she always wore nice shoes. I dont talk girl, and am telling you her shoes were nice. You just need to see them. She was older than me, but I never got to know her age. Just like I never got to know what she thinks of me. Until one day.... Lets call her Miss. Sexy Row row row your boat gently down the stream.
Then there was this other girl. She didn't like her food. She wanted to shed off some weight. But she was too serious about it. She talked about her periods the first time we talked. She was very open about going to the loo. If she had a stomach she wouldn't say she was 'i am a little under the weather' she would say 'i have diareea'. She wore a wig, it didn't look like it fitted her well, but she tried. I got to give her that. She tried. She liked to go partying, but on Sunday afternoon. I like my Sunday afternoons at home, or at some place with nice food, but mostly nice chairs. She liked to dance on Sunday afternoon, on Sunday afternoon? she was a virgin. Let's call her Miss. V
Somedays I feel quiet, my waters are still, and I want to be an ocean, attracted by the moon, the moon causes waves you know, and waves are thrilling, ask a suffer. But ask a writer, to describe for you the thrill of the ocean, the reflection of the moon light on it, the beautiful lonely boat that is left at sea at a distance, beginning you to take a swim to it at night, and have sex in ot with your lover. A writer can describe, how thrilling it is to make love in a boat. You can be naked in the open, get hit by the sun rays, or watch the shooting stars as you shoot your juices, and no one will see. Isolating yourself in a beautiful world, away from the ambition, just on the boat. You and your lover, not to far in the sea to be scared, but far enoughto be unseen. Beautiful. A writer can catch the details. Sometimes I feel quiet, somedays you feel the same too, and you want to be an ocean, like I want to be an ocean, am comfortable where I am, but sometimes I want a writer like I am, cause I know she will catch the fascinating details about me, in such vividness only writers can manage, who doesn't like a thorough compliment sometimes, not from anyone, from a writer? Isn't that thrilling?
I wanted a writer, but there was none, so I did the next best thing, to get some thrill, I went out.
Miss. V
'hi, it's been long, how have you been?'
'hi, I have been okay. Humor me, tell me what you do when you are horny!'
'ummh I don't get horny.'
'okay imagine you do...'
'I cant imagine'
...
Bye bye
Off line.
Miss. Sexy
'hi, how you doing handsome.'
'very fine, I have missed you.'
'I have missed you too'
'so, what do you do when you are horny?'
'I run naked by the beach and the streets thinking about you until am good'
'hehe, seriously?'
'okay, seriously, then, I go hug the moon.'
...
Off line.
Miss. V
'hi'
'hi, how are you?'
'Am good just so stressed up.'
'what is wrong?'
'work'
'then just skiv work and come give me a boob fuck, besides I like them'
'then who will pay my rent, my bills if I don't work, who? And food?'
'I meant it as a joke.'
'okay'
...
Off line.
Miss. sexy
'can you imagine there is a power black out?'
'since when?'
'In the morning'
'call them here is there number 020237137x'
'how do you just have Kenya Power number randomly like that?'
'I work there'
Row row row you boat gently down the stream...
Power was back. I didn't go off line.
Miss. v called me. She called me when she got to the mall, she didn't know my place, so I went to pick her from there. I was going to have a boob fuck. She had in fact was the one that promised it.
I got there, in my shorts, and tshirt and sandals. I had been arranging the house, it was Sunday afternoon. I was dressed relaxed, like everyone at the mall. She stood there, she was shorter than me. I recognized her cause she was heavy. No, not those sun glasses. At least she took them off, I hoped she would put them in her bag. But she held them in her hand. I hated them.
We got to my place. There was no way I was going to cook for her. Her hands looked dirty anyways, or where they just dark. They were water-ish. Probably she was nervous. Her body looked a little moist. But what can I say, she was there, I didn't like it, but she was there, and I didn't want to be lonely.
We got to my bedroom, I threw her on the bed. She resisted. I let her be. "what's all this?"
She was fascinated, by what? Perfume. She smelled them, put them close to her nose. She picked the moisturizer, sniff sniff. And her face glowed. She put her finger in it. Apply apply. The lotion... The same... The hair jel... The same. She walked to the mirror, looked at herself as she oiled her wig. The roll on did it, she opened it, her top was wet-ish, in the under arms especially, you could see it. She rolled my roll on under her arms. Did I say that did it?
I wasn't going to sex her anymore. It had hardly been ten minutes since she walked through my door. And she was using my roll on. And touching everything? I lie on the bed watching her. She was as shiny as a polished shoe, she had applied lotion over moisturizer, over lotion, over hair jel, half of the perfumes I use all on her all at once. I pulled her hand and threw her back to the bed. I brought my zip up to her face. She restrained. I asked her to leave. She waited for me to take back my words. Guess what, I wasn't hungry.
'Are you asking me to leave cause I have refused to have sex with you?'
'Yes'
I felt cruel.
'Will you see me off?'
She inquired as she stood at the door to my room.
'No'
I said bluntly. Ignoring her disoriented state. She did not believe I was kicking her out in less than ten minutes of her being here.
Power went out.
Miss. Sexy
'Please turn power back on'
'I here you have been bringing women to your house.'
'Who told you?'
'don't you know people talk?'
'my workmates are your neighbors, they tell me...'
...
Off line.
I didnt know whether she was speculating. Or she really knew for sure. I really didn't care what people said. First of all, I am not famous. So, who do you think would remember my name from here? No one reads my blog here. Am sure. Besides, it might just be one of those things she said. Like, running naked in the streets to take care of her thy horny. She had a sense of humor.
It was at night, Friday night meaning, the morning after it would be quiet. She was in a black dress, a little black dress, with little white polka dots. Her shoes were heels, shiny black heels, with a button for a buckle. It was her brooch that hid her cleavage a little more. It was visible but in a decent way.
Did I say she was a little older than me, a few years? Did I say she was a little taller than me? Did I say she looked beautiful. Drop dead beautiful? With her nice dress, her graceful manner and her charming ways. Did I say she could laugh at herself, and never took everything seriously?
The lights to my room were off. We passed the living room. She kicked off her shoes, at least then I could kiss her more comfortably. Did I say she was completely well figured. I mean really well figured? Round and curves and rounds and curved so much to touch and so smooth.
Did I say that that was the first time Miss. sexy said she really, really loved it? She got her dress out after I had come. After she had come too not like she normally did. Better.
I switched on the lights. Gave her a shirt to wear.
I remember we had been meeting before. The first time she was on my bed. I wanted to shag her boobs. You know, taking things slow. Do you know what she said?
'I know what you want... I don't want you to spoil my hair.'
She had just been to the saloon. Now guys, wouldn't that turn you on? Think about it, how does a boob fuck spoil hair, really how? Yes. So she was expecting.
We fought a little. She smiled as we faught that day, then she gave in. She was in a white bra. Round and round her boobs were. I felt so good to be in the midst. I told her I wasn't going to spoil her hair. But once I felt them I wanted to come.
Row row row you boat she definitely could float my boat...
She laughed at my jokes. Once I asked her to pick me at the airport. She told me if it was her wish, she would be in a trench coat and heels and nothing underneath when I arrived. I blogged about that fantasy once. I can't believe she reads me. But she will never admit it. I arrived. And my arrival was beautiful. As I grabbed her. I will never forget her braless with underwear. When she pressed her body on the corridor wall, lifted her hands to the wall, and one palm was over the other. She then did a pop, lock and drop it.
I did a pop, load and point at it.
Row row row you boat, gently down her stream, merrily, merrily, merrily oh, she caused me to form a stream.
Why aren't solar panel companies advertising, how dense is there marketting team. Do you know how many times Kenya Power shuts down power? Can you imagine every time there is a blackout I remember her. She is now married though. So she can only exist in my mind, and my loins acknowledge that frustration all the time.
Anyways, Miss. Virgin left her awful looking sunglasses in my house. She was very disoriented when she left, did I tell you that? She told me she bought new ones. I don't know whether I was more glad that their is a possibility she got a better looking pair or whether I was more glad I would never have to meet her again. (that I didnt have to replace my roll on)
I dropped the awful sunglasses she had left behind in the bin, the same time I dropped the roll on she had used on her sweaty under arms.
Think outside the box, am sure you don't work in an advertising firm. But thinking outside the box applies to life. Beauty is not just what you see, it's how you act and a lot more. So much more.
Think outside the box, beauty is not just what you see. Beauty is Black Out.
