Campus was fun!
Here’s one of the reasons why.
Do note that this reason barely cracks the top 10. From if you can gauge my Campus experience.
Viewing the world from the eyes of a COMRADE
On campus, I was one of those kajua-know-it-all-hopeless-romantic freshmen. Yeah, that was me.
Seven hells!! I believed in love so bad I had names set aside for my first three kids and this was before I had lost my virginity.
Sad, right? Naah.
I’ve since grown up and decided against the names I had chosen for obvious reasons.
One being, I watched a series with a character by one of those names and didn’t quite like what I saw. Can’t have my balls squirting such a name/child/progeny into the world. Getting my drift??
Wanna know something funny?
I lost my virginity to a girl I had absolutely no feelings for. But that’s a story for another day…
Anyway, before I lose track, let me get back…
I believed in all that Nicholas Sparks-love-you-forever-die-in-each-others-arms typa love. Granted it felt amazing at the time, still does. Wiser feels wolrds better. Also the orgasms Gigahertz more electrical.
Fun fact – Orgasms feel better when you’re head over heels with whoever you’re sticking it to. Lol.
Anyway, back to campus.
I’d literally see a girl I liked and immediately picture her walking down the isle “Crazy Rich Asians” style. (A movie I watched about a year ago)
Damn it, I think I fell in love just a lil over 100 times everyday with someone new. Shout out to The HOZIERs!!
(Google the lyrics to that tune if you haven’t heard it yet, then raise a glass to The HOZIERs!!)
Another thing, please get a glass of wine for this, coz for the type of shit I’m about to express on this here post needs you to be wine tipsy. Okay?
If you don’t have a glass of wine, stop reading this post, get on Twitter and mention @Iam_Sakari that you don’t have wine. I’ll have my people get you one immediately.
Good, moving on swiftly.
I had lost track,now I’m back….
Where was I….oh yeah…
That’s how much I believed in true love. Yeap, I was “THAT NIGGA”
I have a tripple digit IQ, double digit body count and a broken heart made of stone that’s rendered me emotionally unavailable. Bite me! Do it gently, that shit excites me lol.
…I’m a geek of sorts, minus the glasses.
… I’m thinker, minus the Plato-Gorgias banter
…Single and Sapiosexually loving it.
I’m anti-sponsor, despite having the capability to do so, Can’t be out here saving these hoes, Word to RILEY (The Boondocks reference)
We got money for making business moves,not feeding these hoes. Anyway…. I keep losing track. Let’s dive into one of a thousand more campus experiences.
The status Quo is that…
My life is pretty great, I landed my dream job, I make more than I can spend,I can travel to wherever TF I want in this here world and live there for a year… AIR BnB Muhfucker!!???
So far so good. Don’t you think?
SO WHY TF AM I SO UNHAPPY????
(Pause for dramatic effect, sip some wine…..not enough? take another sip…. not enough, down the hatch and pour yourself another glass)
I have no idea….(crickets)
Happiness is an elusive mistress!???
Should’ve probably married the bitch when I had the chance. Things might have turned out different.?
As a consolation I tell myself that “HAPPY” is not a constant like acceleration due to gravity.
Therefore, since HAPPY is relative, I guess I ought to come up with my own personal algorithm for its pursuit. PATENT PENDING
So anyway, ’nuff with the Notes to self. This blog post is more or less about another time I thought I’d found love.
Here’s my rationale, I figured that finding love is a trial and error thing so why not collect ORGASMS, WARGASMS, MOREGASMS and all the other GASMS you know of along the way, right? RIGHT?
So here goes…
Back in the day when my body count was below double digits and my experiences sexually, were limited to James Patterson, Nicholas Sparks and Sandra Brown novels, I had the theoretical part of sex down to a science.
Having just recently lost my virginity I was a horny little shit wandering around campus looking for my next nut.
To all men out there that are virgins, make sure your first nut is in a condom. Save that raw shit for a girl you’re head over heels for. Feel me?
Moving on swiftly,
My only knowledge of bedroom affairs was from erotic novels, Spartacus and the occasional Zane Chronicles episode.
Yes, I was an innocent little shit who had trouble dealing with a boners three to five times a day because the memory of bussing a nut for the first time in my life was still fresh on my mind.
If that wasn’t HARD enough (pun intended) I was a freshman on campus. Safe to say I was as confused as a toddler in a titty bar. Eeek!?
After a long week of pulling all-nighters and half staggering through exam week I got a much needed invite to a night out on the town (NAIROBI or in other words NAI-ROBB-I of my innocence).
Having spent an entire week balls deep in encyclopedias and Britannicas in a bid to understand Chebyshev’s inequality(a principle of probability) there was no way I was turning down a night of poor decisions and gallons of cheap liquor.
I was a freshman! Bite me, but do it gently that shit excites me.
As horny and thirsty as I was I gladly accepted the invitation to a night out on the town.
As was my usual routine, every Friday I would drop by the on-campus swimming pool for a dip.
An easy 1Km swim was enough of a workout to let me eat like a hog and gain absolutely no weight.
I have an 8 pac
I make more money than you!
Anyway, moving on swiftly…
That same night around 9pm, my three classmates and I ventured into the CBD to find us the loudest club with the cheapest drinks. (Licks lips like a Koinange Steet Whore)
Being freshmen on campus we had to drink within our means since we had not yet found our hustle feet.
Also, Aunty wa Harrier(Story for another day) wasn’t on the market for uninspired little freshmen.
Our main goal of the night was to drink copious amounts of alcohol and have the wildest fun but, (pause for dramatic effect)… On a budget.
Alone, I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish this enormous fete but as a group of mathematicians we were more than equipped to get shit faced drunk.
With Ksh 500 in each of our pockets we would “Chafua Meza” with one huge bottle of moderately hard liquor and a beer each.
Safe to say, non of us were ever expecting to get lucky….the lucky few of us who already had girlfriends on campus had someone to drunk call post drinkathon for a quick nut.
The rest of us had to rely on the universe to provide.
My initial plan was to sip my beer slow and do two to three shots every hour. By 2am I’d be hammered enough to stagger back to my hostel and pass out on a bedbug infested bed. Yeeehaaa!! Campus Life!!?
I lived in University of Nairobi PREFABs btw…(Wilder story for another day)
I hoped my blood alcohol level would render my blood unsuitable for bed bugs to ingest as it turns out those were no ordinary bed bugs fam!
They had seen generations and generations of functional alcoholics (University Students) and as such, they had developed a taste for alcohol infused blood every now and then.
I bet they were half roach, half bedbug coz those fuckers were huge. My Parasitology friends reading this, please look into that possibility and hit me up. I’ve sent this blog post to all your email addresses.
Back to my wild Nairobi Night…
We found the dingiest club we knew in Midtown Nairobi (ie. Moi Avenue, the split between Uptown & Downtown Nairobi- Google that shit) Aaaaaand,
Ordered beers, a bottle of hooch and sat at the darkest corner of the club where we had a panoramic view of the entire club especially the low budget dancefloor.
No sooner had either of us had taken our third sip of beer, than a trio of mature working class women arrived and sat on the table right next to ours.
What such classy women were doing at a dingy club such as the one we were in was beyond me but over 5 years later I saw an article in the DAILY NATION that sed “WANT GREAT SEX? GET A BROKE MAN TO DO IT”???
Despite the universe having smiled upon us, I doubt that any of us had even the slightest inkling of getting lucky that night.
Yeap, we were a bunch of broke ass Mathematicians out to play a little standardisation on the expenditure of the average campus bloak.
What we actually thought was that the universe smiling on us meant we would get to “SHIBISHA MACHO, TUKIMEZA MATE” and that would be it.
The said ladies were particularly quiet and even after downing a few drinks, they didn’t look like they would stand up to dance. I mean, what’s a night out without having a woman grind on your boner?
Best believe we were crossing our fingers and toes, hoping and waiting.
I know I sound a dick by saying that about nights out but please remember that we were uninspired horny little shits back then. Feminists, please sit down. Yes! Wait for it.
Back to my story…
So we’re stealing glances at them, and they’re stealing glances at us…felt as though whoever made the first move would lose.
Then something truly remarkable happened, there are different versions to this part of the story but I swear on my Big hairy balls that the dj scratched his deck a couple of times and played “SHE’S MISS CALIFORNIA” by Carlos Santana.
Idk what went through my head but I hopped out of my chair, threw my hands in the air and screamed, “THAT’S MY JAM!!” and guess what, so did the lady I was eyeing from the neighbouring table. BOOM!!!
Okay, she didn’t say “THAT’S MY JAM” she just screamed “WHOOOOO!”
PSA! PSA! PSA!
I’m an Old school cat so whenever an absolute old school hip hop rnb banger comes on, i go bananas! Fuck you if you don’t feel old school jams! #SorryNotSorry
Back to my story…
From what I could tell by looking at her she was in her late 20s, if not then early 30s. Curves you could Tokyo drift on, an ass so tight you’d bounce an old Ksh 5 coin off while playing Kamare….safe to say she was fine!
The clincher was that she wasn’t a Michelin Man…ie. she didn’t have belly fat or in other words “Hakuwa na MaTyre”??? (Lol, Kenyan expressions)
She takes a sip of her drink and starts making her way to the dancefloor. That’s when I accurately saw it.
Hips 38, waist 32, flat tummy and a face to match!!
I bet if she took off all her clothes everything would stay where it was. She had firm tits and a tight fit even after popping out a couple of kids for some nigga out there.
Blood flowed from my big head to my small head
I couldn’t help myself, an absolute oldskool banger was playing anf I had a boner, WTF do you think I did?
Heck!! Sindikizad her to the dancefloor is what I did!!!!
No sooner had I pulled up on her bumper, she started strutting around the dancefloor with so much flair it’d make Tina Turner jealous.
Having vast experience with watching Channel O & dancing in the shower, I knew exactly what to do…
I stood there like a pimp minus the top hat with my arms folded across my chest giving her those FUCK ME EYES (Story for a later blog).
No sooner had I hit her with them FUCK ME eyes, than she looked back at me and motioned for me to approach with her index finger.
I mean, this girl……..FUVK THAT…..
This woman and I had such a connection yani!!!
We danced like it was Usher and that girl on the absolute banger “YEAH!”
Felt like that finger she used sed “COME n’ GET ME”
That night she was my miss California!????
My Miss California, if you’re reading this (I sent it to your Email btw.????). Hit me up, we gotta open a club, you and I.
I was so turned on I had to tie my boner to my belt, just so she doesn’t think I’m/my boner isn’t being too forward.
The wagon she was draggin!!
The bumper I pulled up to while we were grinding can bring a man to tears!???
My hands were all over her and hers all over me. We were something out of an Usher Video!!!
We danced to the end of the song after which she hugged me.
End of flashback!!?
(I’ll have to go change the sweatpants I’m wearing coz DAMN!!!?????)
Back at the table, my entourage had already invaded the neighbouring table and were quickly getting acquainted. ??. Le crew got gaaaame!
Ps. If any of you guys are reading this…lazima tukutane tena we catch up over a nostalgic night of Ksh 500 per head!?.
My new catch and I sat in chairs next to each other. We were as giddy as two school kids falling in love for the first time. Couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I mean the chemistry was so instant we didn’t bother asking each others names.
Our conversations were littered with suggestions of drinking games and endless laughter.
As soon as our one bottle of hard liquor had been drowned and taken away by the waitress. My lovely lady ordered another.
By my watch it was five minutes to midnight and as such, I had to close the deal or go home to a threesome minus two. Do the math! HANDSOME!??
I took a long sip of my beer and leaned in to my dancing queen and whispered, “hey, you wanna get outta here and go somewhere uuuumm…..more intimate?”
She gently placed her hand on my thigh and replied, “patience love, you’ve already scored”
?Points for older women going straight to the point as opposed to beating around the bush asking why a guy suggested privacy. CHEMISTRY!!
Moving on swiftly,
She beckoned the waitress and asked for two more bottles of Johnny Mtembezi (Johnny Walker for those who don’t understand the euphemism). Drink so smooth it knocks your socks off…
Three Mzingaz on the table and we were the life of the party. My Entourage did not disappoint either. They were good on their feet, dancers and smooth talkers all about!
In my mind, Two more bottles of hard liquor was a mindfuck.
How again had I scored when we have two more bottles to down?
I mean, I’m all for drinking ’till dawn but if there’s a chance of getting laid, I’d love to be moderately shit faced drunk.
My rationale was, by 1am, I’m all up in there, 2am we’re done with foreplay and it’s down to making love, 3am we become pornstars and go buckwild, nut at 4/20 and her world would be rocked!
If I were to get shit faced drunk I doubt I’d get past the foreplay.??
While I was tripping over a novice miscalculation of how the night would play out she grabbed my hand, rousing me from my stupor, she settled the bill and motioned for us to leave.
She exchanged knowing looks with her friends, grabbed one bottle of Mtembezi and we left
A short Taxi ride later (Uber hazikuwa zimafika KE back then so we had to bargain with Mwaniki) we arrived at a townhouse that vaguely resembled one of those you see in magazines. Victorian architecture that’d make you ask the owner “What Do You Do And How Do You Do It.
You know those uptown houses they shoot pornos in? Yeah, just like one of those…???
Okay, granted that’s an overstatement but you get the picture. Right?
Bottom line is, it was an amazing townhouse…forget the porno comment. (I won’t edit it out coz I write these blogs mara moja – no edits, I just write and post)
Anyway, where was I…. Oh yeah,
SEE YOU ON THE NEXT ONE