Watching her pose during her nude shoot was a sublime experience. She was beautiful; stretch marks, scars and tattoos alike. She owned that shit. It made her all the more irresistible to him, the way she owned her skin and made love to the camera, her sex appeal permeating to frame. In his pants there was a bulge, one he intended to unleash upon her, not with the way she kept looking at him with those piercing eyes. He mentally canceled all the plans he had for the evening. She was his only plan. Her pleasure (or was it punishment?) his sole priority.

She could tell, from the way he looked at her, that she was getting it that night. He discretely tugged at the bulge in his pants to her delight, and she watched him shift in discomfort at the way his denims squeezed his manhood. The shoot was almost over anyway, so it was about to go down for them. Although the studio was already cold, her nipples stood more erect as her own arousal built up as she watched him watching her, telepathically sharing their thoughts through their eyes, unspoken words and undone deeds that led to tingly skin, slightly elevated heart rates, heightened lust and primal sexuality. And at last, the photographer announced they had captured more than enough shots from the three hour session. They smiled. The photography team left the studio, leaving the two of them together, in that electric air of their heightened sensuality.

He helped get her dressed, to quicken the pace. For what he was about to do to her needed that apartment kind of privacy; he was going to drench the floor and bed with her juices. That water she’d been drinking, those pineapples she’d been eating… he wanted it all. But first, he would tie her up, feed her pineapples and whipped cream, sip red wine off her supple skin, tease and punish her the way she did in that studio, before finally giving her what she craved. He whispered a silent prayer while helping her into her coat:

“Forgive me Father, for what I am about to do to her. Repeatedly.”

She turned and faced him, face flushed and warm, lips slightly parted. He was close, so close, yet so far. He stared at her with fiery intensity, opening the door for her so they could leave. They needn’t cause a scene at a professional work space. They left, said their appreciation and goodbyes briskly, got in the car and drove off.

That 20 minute drive felt like forever, especially because it was tense and charged. Sexually charged. They got to the apartment building, parked and sat still for a moment. Then he spoke.

“That was impressive. I’m very impressed by you.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?”


Punishment was certainly on the menu. They rode up the elevator in silence, his hand gently squeezing her ass, and while she fumbled with the keys he kissed her neck so tenderly. She steadied herself and found the keyhole, then let them in. He locked the door behind them while she set her purse on the table and took her coat off.

“Strip, and kneel on the carpet.” he ordered. She did as was told as he went to the kitchen. She heard him open and close the refrigerator, then two cabinets. She then heard the faucet go on, heard him wash his hands, then it went off. Silence – he was probably drying them on the hand towel right beside the sink. He then joined her on the carpet, carrying a bottle of champagne, strawberries and whipped cream. He knelt opposite her, picked up a succulent strawberry and fed it to her. She bit into it, his eyes never leaving hers, and chewed slowly as he trailed the remaining half over her collarbone and down to her nipples before eating it himself. He took a second one and fed her, repeating his motions, and went down to her navel. And a third, going down to the diamond at the meeting of her thighs.

Next he took the whipped cream, sprayed some on his thumb, and fed it to her. She licked and sucked it all off, his thumb lingering, watching her suck on it like a child would a lollipop. More whipped cream, more thumb and tongue, and again. Then he kissed her, gently at first, then demanding that her tongue let him taste the strawberries and cream off her tongue. He abruptly ended the kiss, leaned in closer to her and pushed her onto her back slowly and deliberately. He then stood over her and took off all his clothes, finally freeing his erection from his denims. He spread her thighs and knelt, his erection pointing directly at her, as if to say “this is all for you.”

Sipping champagne, he let it swirl in his mouth then went down to her nipples, leisurely swirling the golden liquid over her left nipple while his tongue flicked on it. She sighed and raised her hands to hold his head in place. He gently disentangled them, swallowed his champagne and whispered,

“No touching, until I give you my permission.”

“Yes, Sir.”

It was going to be hard, especially with the way he teased her with his lips and tongue, and his hot skin felt on her. Fuck. Grabbing the carpet was the next best alternative. He worked his way, champagne and lips, alternating with strawberries, down to her mound, where he gently parted her folds with the tip of his tongue, to find her clitoris. She smelled fragrant – pineapples. Like what she had earlier. Using the tip of his tongue he teased her, working his way in up / down, circular motions from her clit to her labia minora, to her vulva, dipping the tip of his tongue inside her to taste more of her wetness. And my, was she flowing! He went back up to her clitoris, lifted the hood with his right thumb and launched an attack on the sensitive flesh with his tongue, his left index and middle finding their way inside her and going deep. She arched her back and moaned. She wouldn’t last like that and he knew. His tongue flicked and twirled, his fingers vibrating and making waves inside her, working her g-spot to fervent sensitivity levels. Her thighs started shaking, her moans coming out in staccato. She was about to climax. And just before she did, he stopped cold turkey and looked at her quivering body, and face crunched in passion.

“Why did you stop, Sir?”

“Not yet your time to cum.” He lowered himself onto her, placing her legs on his shoulders, then sank slowly and deliberately into her until he was lodged deeper than she had ever had him. He stroked her, long, slow and deep, feeling the pressure of her orgasm build up around his dick. He looked her in the eye, she was so close. Her breath was shallow, her body quivering under his, her hands desperately in need of his skin and muscle.

“Cum. Now.”

He ordered, and she came undone. The squirt came in endlessly hot squishy jets, her body convulsing, her hands fighting to touch him. He took them, one by one, placed them above her head and thrust as she squirted, going deep and tapping the bottom of her pussy, coaxing her to squirt it all out. It came in waves and waves, until she felt completely dehydrated. He then pulled out, got up and helped her up. Led her to the bedroom, laid her and spread her eagle on the foot of the bed, then sank into her once again. Then he went to town, choking and fucking her with his basest primal instincts, roaring as he reupholstered her pussy and made her lose all sense of self. She shuddered repeatedly under him, moaning and screaming, as he tattooed his dick print on her insides where he once had.

“Fuck! I’m coming again,” she breathed between moans.

“Don’t hold back.” he said.

“I can-” it came over her, took hold of her body, exorcised her soul as she gushed yet another ocean on the floor. Mind blank, nerves on high alert, body in his possession, soul hovering over and watching her arched body as he stroked and she came. She was completely owned, whether she liked it or not, and he had the key to all her locks.



It started as a business meeting. He had teased an idea a few weeks earlier, and she ran wild with it. Her findings led her to the bone of what could be a lucrative business and she had to share her vision for it with him. So they met, at a pub, over drinks and ideas. And some fish and chips, because as he joked, she was always hungry. The conversation was both enlightening and full of innuendo – he spoke with a slight lilt to his words that was difficult to notice if one had never heard him speak before. She knew it well, because she had heard it in the throes of passion whenever he urged her to let herself disappear into him. Even the way he held his wine glass – his lithe fingers seemed to suggest things that he would rather be touching and holding in that glass’s stead. She wanted those fingers on her skin, those hands on her flesh, molding and caressing.

She had whiskey with her food, and a bottle of water to stay lucid and hydrated. A gentleman at the table opposite them kept staring at her, as if to say she should have been with him because he was in a suit instead of that baseball wearing, hoodie sprinkled in animal fur wearing nerd. What he didn’t know is that that same nerd transformed into a beast in the bedroom, one that left her breathless and wanting more. In addition to his brilliant mind and ability to unpack the most complicated of concepts in the simplest yet mind fuckingly succinct of ways, that nerd was not his clothes. It was the entire package – from his mind, to his body and the way his cologne engulfed her and she had to keep reminding herself not to bite a chunk of his neck while her hand fished his dick out from his jeans. Suddenly, her bra felt too tight and she knew it had to go.

They took a cab to another bar, one “less crowded” where she had tea and he, another glass of wine. All talk of business was sealed for the night and she couldn’t help but think of how badly she wanted to kiss him. He could seemingly read her mind, and showed her the outline of his straining dick on his jeans.

“Did you take your bra off? he asked.

“Already!” she replied, and he snaked a hand across her back, under her coat and shirt and onto her nipple. With his index and thumb, he twirled her nipple, watching her intently with that I-dare-you-to-moan look, leaning in close. He then led her hand to his bulging penis, straining his jeans. She looked down at what her hand felt. Her mouth watered, her clitoris throbbed at the sight of his restrained arousal in his pants. She knew the night wouldn’t end without tasting him, so to compose herself she took a brief walk. When she went back, he teased her further.

“You should have worn a dress.”


“So you could sit on me right now, and try not to scream.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. Fuck. Her body was rioting.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” She asked, when she could finally speak. He signaled the waiter to clear their bill, and they walked out to the lot to wait for their cab. He held her hand and pulled her closer to him, pressing her against his length while his hand snaked down to her ass and squeezed. She tried to focus on her phone but couldn’t, wishing there wasn’t any fabric between them and his hand was on her bare ass. Their cab arrived at last, and they got in.

While he busied his mouth with giving the driver directions, her mouth found his veiny and throbbing penis (she had unzipped his pants while they waited) and took him in. Fuck. He tasted so good. His hand was on her neck, urging her motions, while her tongue flicked and licked him as her mouth got wetter. She sucked hard on him, ignoring that they were in a cab, taking all of him into her mouth and devouring him whole. He was smooth, hot, throbbing and delicious. He started thrusting his hips to match her suction and she could tell he was about to cum. She wanted it all in her mouth. Just before he could erupt in her mouth, they arrived at her apartment building…


“That bitch stole my man!”

“That man stole my woman!”

“X stole Y’s person.”

First of all, 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 to everyone who has ever said or thought this phrase. How is an adult man or woman stolen? Are they handbags / wallets? Teach me your ways, oh ye great stealers of men and women! There’s a man I really want to steal so maybe a few pointers on how to will escalate my process to being his new legal owner by force. But seriously, how is this even a thing? Men stealing women / women stealing men? Are they inanimate objects that just sit there, waiting to change possession as and when? Are they things you buy in a retail store with your hard earned money, take them to your house and a selfish human comes along to take the fruits of your labor? Show me where to buy them then; I’d like a few decorative pieces.

The concept of people being stolen is not entirely new, neither is it really a thing. A regular, functioning adult (even children) cannot be stolen, simply because they have free will and the choice to decide where they want to be, with whom they want to be and how. By the time a child refuses to go with a stranger and goes back to their parent / guardian, who is a fully grown adult to refuse to go with a stranger and warrant being stolen instead? If a man / woman ends up “stolen”, it’s as a result of one of two things. Either they were tired of the previous “owner’s” bullshit or the person from whom they were stolen was simply a placeholder. A temporary object holding space for the actual intended. Total mind fuck, either way. And also, to be stolen, one must first be owned. Are we still slaves? You’ve got to pick a side; you can’t scream foul when Kanye says slavery is a choice then go ahead and say X stole Y’s person. That right there is slavery. Quit misusing possessive pronouns.

Before you cry foul and say your person has been stolen by someone else, maybe you should introspect. Was that person really “yours” to begin with? Or were you just a placeholder? Ornamental? Non-functional? Is that person a mindless inanimate object or a human being? And you who gets stolen, were you just picked up, bundled into a truck against your will and driven off to an unknown destination? I believe that would be kidnapping, and it’s a crime. If it happened to you, report it. If you wanted to be kidnapped though, and fell in love with your captor, that’s Stockholm Syndrome. See a therapist, maybe. But if you went willingly, surely, have you been stolen as it has been alleged? Maybe we need to first see ourselves as independent individuals capable of thought and decision, before we get into a relationship. I don’t know what kind of drugs I’d have to be on to be stolen from someone or steal a person from someone. Usually, I want to be with them and they with me. So… mutual pleasure or destruction, and return to original sender once finished. Teach me how to be stolen, Mister Steal Your Girl!


We are all adults, are we not? I am writing this under the assumption that this is true. So, from one adult to another, please explain to me why, in response to a piece of literature, photo or video, some male adults feel the overwhelming urge to send unsolicited dick pics. Boo, that shit ugly. Get out of my DM!! Raquel Savage posted a raunchy picture of herself on Instagram not too long ago and guess what? Some adult male sent his shame to her DM and captioned it “Just For You”. One would think that he sent a Safaree type dick pic but no… it was a baby carrot. My nipples are bigger than that thing.

Some of you may call this cyber bullying, body shaming, revenge porn or whatever else. Call it as you may, if it helps you sleep at night. In truth, sending unsolicited nudes, whether from a male to a female or whatever tickles the unsuspecting recipient’s fancy, is a form of sexual harassment. Yes, I said it. Because sexual harassment is making unwanted sexual advances – in whatever form – towards an uninterested party – sending unsolicited nudes is a form of it. As a result, you as the sender have opened yourself up to “moral judgement” and outrage because in this #MeToo era, there’s no saying what goes down in the DM won’t come to light. Size and shape notwithstanding, it’s a ticking time bomb so you’re probably a lot safer NOT sending that unsolicited risky nude. Once it leaves the privacy of the DM onto the collective timeline, there’s no saying what will happen. It’s open season. Same applies to overwhelming sexual content – that’s not the kind of nasty that’s nice; it’s simply gross. Stop it! Unless your relationship with the person you’re sharing such content with is at that level of trust, comfort and familiarity, please, maintain some decorum. Resist the urge to send them!

It’s one thing for me to blog about literorica and share it; it’s another for people to send me dick pics in the DM. It’s one thing for a woman to post a pretty or sexy picture of herself and get unwanted dick pics in response. Personally, I didn’t ask for them, I don’t like them and most importantly, I DO NOT WANT THEM. If I want to see a dick, I have the sense and decency to ask the person of interest and I would MUCH RATHER see it in person. No woman really wants unsolicited nudes in response to a post, comment or picture. So guys, I hope after reading this, you’ll have the sense to think through it before sending an unsolicited dick pic. You too ladies; I hope you’re not just sending unsolicited boob / ass pics to guys who may or may not be interested. It’s a known fact that guys are more likely to share them with their boys and shade you for them. Matter of fact, if you must have nudes, release them on your own terms. Like Viola did. If you guys just love receiving nudes that you didn’t ask for, that’s fine. Really. But me? I’m good luv, enjoy.


Last week, I spoke about how guys can keep it up and last long in bed here. So today, it’s for the ladies. Not only am I giving out cheat codes on how to stay lubricated and fragrant in your lady bits without messing with your pH, I’m also going to tell you how to keep it going for 90 minutes and then some. Believe me, I’ve been asked how I lasted through the entire match… read the blog here if you don’t know what I mean. Anyway, ladies, if you’re having problems keeping it moist and warm down there, this one’s for you. And let me be categorically clear; your vagina is a muscle so don’t be fooled into believing it expands and you collect “mileage” based on your libido. No matter how it may look, she’s beautiful and deserves to be treated as such!

Again, ladies, you are what you eat. Foods rich in plant fats are good for circulation and sex drive. Simply put, foods like salmon, flax seeds, eggs, spinach, oysters among others rich in Omega-3 fatty acids are known to help with vaginal dryness, circulation which is good for your sex drive and believe it or not, severe dysmenorrhea. While the results will not be immediate, regular intake of these foods will slowly improve your circulation and like dominoes, the rest will fall in place. Avocados are ample in healthy fats, Vitamin B-6, and potassium – all of which have positive effects on your libido. This fruit can enhance lubrication and estrogen levels, and strengthen vaginal walls due to its unsaturated fats. For fragrance and taste, you know those pineapples and tangerines (basically fruits rich in citric acid) are your plug, and berries (especially cranberries) to help tackle possible UTIs with their powerful antioxidants and acidic compounds. Finally, probiotic-rich foods like yoghurt are good for your pH; the live and active cultures provide our bodies with a boost of good bacteria, which is particularly helpful in preventing yeast infections.

When it comes to cleaning the vagina, it’s really not necessary to use soap or all types of vaginal wash and what not; this muscle is self cleaning and with the right foods as mentioned above, your vagina should be able to stay healthy. Water is sufficient in external cleaning; leave the internal cleanup to your body. Furthermore, keeping your pubic region clean and odor free is supremely important; ladies there are intimate wipes available to clean up especially after sex. What’s even best is the face towel and water trick, as taught by Ssengas in Uganda. If you love some hair on your cooch, go on boo. Just keep them neat and well groomed. Whatever you prefer, really. The key is healthy, neat and well kept.

If your man lasts long and you don’t know how to keep up with him (you may get dry or bored or both), then there’s an issue. Everyone can fuck, but not everyone is good at it. Sex starts in the mind and the body follows; if you’re not sexually stimulated before he touches you there’s a likelihood you won’t keep up with him either. And also, FOREPLAY IS IMPORTANT!!! He can’t and shouldn’t just keep pounding at you like you’re some sort of yam or whatever… sweetie insist on foreplay. Of course I wrote about that too once upon a time here. The secret to lasting long – if you’re that kind of girl – is alternating the tempo and positions. Hard and fast, slow and gentle, leisurely deep strokes (you won’t believe how much wetter these could get you!) and just winding your waist on him. Find positions that don’t strain your body too much and alternate as and when necessary, then introduce foreplay even in the middle of coitus to maintain the interest and lubrication. Keep some water or juice close by to keep both of you hydrated. If you’re tired, just say so and pause for a commercial break.

In conclusion, eat your fruits, vegetables, fatty acids and yoghurt, keep your vagina away from unnecessary chemicals, clean up with water, do your kegels (if you know, you know) and stay hydrated. I could show you how to wind your waist (living in Uganda as long as I did has its perks!) but that’s a whole other conversation!


My Ugandan audience will understand where that title is derived from. Which is also in reference to this post, because I’m about to address some questions that have been asked and the same questions have made some men think others are… well… superhuman. How long should one round of sex last? How do the people who last more than half an hour per round do it? How don’t they get tired? What planet are they from? Is this shit even real? I am here to confirm that yes, this shit is real and there are men that last more than half an hour during one round of sex. Based on personal experience, some men last up to ninety minutes or more. Yes, that’s an entire soccer game plus extra time and penalties.

I’ve got the cheat codes, guys. Watch and learn. You are what you eat. Quite literally. Junk food, consumption of copious amounts of alcohol, smoking cigarettes, not drinking enough water, not eating fruits and vegetables daily and staying fit are some of the major reasons why most of you can’t last more than ten minutes. You’ll find most guys are on a steady diet of pizza, soda and alcohol yet complain when they’re told they can’t last long enough to give a woman an orgasm. Which is quite disappointing, because as a woman, if I’ve been taking good care of myself and my pussy is flowing like a river when we get to bed, don’t insult me with a two and a half minute performance. What’s worse is you’ll find the same guys probably have below average dicks; that can’t be blamed on them but the duration taken to climax is squarely upon them.

Then comes the most important sexual organ, the brain. It all starts there. If you’ve been eating balanced meals, hydrating regularly and have had this particular person in mind for a while, when the penny drops you better get your head in the game. Not that head, idiot. The one atop your shoulders. Visualize and imagine what it’ll be like to finally get with that person you’ve been hoping to get with and start to get your mind there. If you’re on regular talking terms, lay the ground work from as early as the morning. Set the mood. Get your mind and hers into it, before you put your back into it. Think of it as marinating steak for dinner; the flavors will be a lot more explosive and the steak a lot more succulent if you marinate it from morning. Marinate your mind.

Getting these ducks in order will obviously improve your sex life. Of course, I don’t expect you to pay for a twelve month gym subscription right now; you could simply start by taking regular walks. If your schedule allows, try jogging at least four times weekly and check YouTube for work out routines you can do in the comfort of your home. Sure, you can still go ahead and eat all the burgers you want, but instead of fries, perhaps have a salad with that and wash it down with fresh juice instead of soda or beer. Then keep a clear mind if you wish to lay the pipe down like the law; if alcohol must be involved (people get nervous), keep it to a minimum. And lastly, personal hygiene. You know the drill; take showers, keep your pubic area neat and clean, brush your teeth, moisturize your skin, use lip balm because we really don’t like kissing cracked lips. Someone tell Thomas I gave the cheat codes to the world. Try these things and if none of them work out for you, e-mail me.


She came up from blowing his rock hard manhood and kissed him.

“That felt so good,” he said into her lips, grabbed her ass and proceeded to thrust his tongue into her mouth. He kissed her hard, in that I – fucking – missed – you – so – much way, grabbing her ass and molding her supple naked body on his own. He was still wearing his T-shirt; that had to come off soon. She rolled them over and he was on top of her, his penis throbbing on her thigh, his lips on hers, pleasuring and punishing. Punishment for being away from him for too long, pleasure to erase the time spent apart and leave no memory of it. Leave only memories of that night, that moment, with her in his arms. He went down to her already erect nipples, thanks to the cold, and licked her left. Then sucked hard on it. On to the right. Tongue then suck. Back to the left. And repeat. She moaned, then he went back up to kiss her before taking his T-shirt off.

Lying with him between her legs and not inside her was some type of sweet torment; she had him yet she didn’t. She felt him throbbing and pulsating but not inside her. She felt his tongue in her mouth, on her breasts, and her mouth again. Sending chills down her spine. With her right hand, she went down to him and rubbed his head on her squishy gash pulling him closer so he could get in. He stayed his ground; he was taking his time. He kissed her some more, tasting her tongue, then she touched her wet womanhood with her thumb then brought it up to his lips. He devoured it like a starved dragon, tasting her arousal and back to her lips. He then sank onto her, then into her. Slowly. Inch for inch. She was tight, it had been too long. She gasped, then when he was all in, she moaned. My, was she wet!

He started moving inside her, moving his waist in circular motions while moving in and out. He moved to the left of her, then her right, not releasing her lips at all, her moans dying in his mouth. She gasped and started shaking in less than a minute; the first climax. He pulled her closer yet and gave her all of him. She bucked, her breath caught, her fingers struggled not to dig into his powerful shoulders, eyes rolled back. Fuck. She came, and screamed, then opened her eyes to see him watching her through intense eyes. Her climax subsided, then he pulled her to the edge of the bed.

Placing her legs on his shoulders, he went into her in one plunge and felt her cervix. She did too, and she moaned. It was time to reestablish his dominance over her, in case she forgot while they were apart. He rammed into her with all his might, imprisoning her between his hard masculinity and the bed. Fuck. She felt him in every nerve in her body. His movements were maddening. She was lost in paradise, him between her legs, fucking her in yet undiscovered ways and making her think of nothing else but him. And her. Passionately entwined. In that very moment. The cold forgotten, music a distant sound. All they heard were their own moans, groans, sighs of exquisite pleasure and the bed springs squeaking under their combined weight.

“You like that?” he whispered.

“Yes, oh yes!” she moaned back.

He kept moving inside her and with her, inadvertently moving both of them further up the bed. Then something extraordinary happened. She stopped moaning, her lips agape. His hand reached for her throat and squeezed, while she felt her soul leave her body. In that state, she felt and saw herself squirt like a geyser, her body convulsing while he kept fucking and never letting go. Her back arched, her head further back into the bed while he groaned harshly as she desperately searched for something to hold on to. His free hand, supporting his weight and trembling with her body, found hers and she gripped tight. She mouthed his name and closed her watery eyes, finally letting out a long kept moan of nirvana while he pounded away at her squishy wetness, on the now messy bed. Oh, had he missed her, had he missed watching her cum for him!


Today (June 3) is my 30th birthday. I’m ecstatic for having come this far… because it’s been one hell of a journey. In my 20s, I made friends that became my family, fell in and out of love, walked out of a disastrous marriage, made a beautiful baby boy, made horrible financial decisions and lived life to the fullest. And as I celebrate my 30th, I’ve decided to take a different route with my life, one that will be a lot harder but make a lot more sense for the way I would like my life to go from now on. With me, however, I’m taking valuable lessons from my 20s, and I’d like to share a few of those with you.

I want to learn to love fiercely, unapologetically and truly, instead of foolishly. When I first fell in love at 20, the man I fell for did not love me back. I foolishly believed that if I loved him harder and gave my all (literally) to him, he would learn to love me back. The joke was on me; he never did. As a result, I closed myself off from every opportunity at love that could have been fulfilling. I even never did love my ex husband; he adored me while I was merely affectionate towards him. Instead, I invested all my love in my son, Nate, who never broke my heart. As I get older and wiser though, I’m learning to open myself up to love once again. In the process, I’m doing the emotional and psychological work to make me a better version of myself, so as to give love wholly and truly to those deserving and getting the same from them. I want a love that is fierce, unapologetic, realistic and fulfilling; a love that doesn’t only take from me but empowers me. Perhaps, in the coming years, I might find and experience that kind of love.

Personal growth is another lesson I’ve learned. And I mean this in the emotional, spiritual, psychological and financial ways. First of all, learning to plan my finances and living within my means is paramount, in order for me to grow my financial and investment portfolios. To this effect, I am working extremely closely with someone who became my guardian angel, and we have a vision board to go with it. Dedication and commitment is the key to attain my goals, and should I falter, he will be there to hold my hand and guide me back. Spiritually, I’m actively seeking God, in order to find myself. The literature I have dedicated myself to reading and the sermons I’m listening to contain some hard truths, some of which I could never face by myself unless I knew God was with me through it all. That’s an ongoing journey, one that will help me unlock my higher self and fulfill my purpose as God intended. I am a sinner, and as Sharpe aptly put it, the prodigal daughter has returned home.

Emotional growth. Damn, this was the hardest lesson to learn. It took me suffering severe depression from the end of April to May this year to realize my emotions were a mess and I lacked the emotional strength or support I needed to go through the fire and brimstone I had been plunged into. See, my son’s father asked to spend the holidays with him in Kampala in December of last year, and being a civil parent I said yes. Even took the young man to Kampala myself, with the agreement that he would be back in Nairobi with my sister on January 6th. On the morning of January 4th, my sister called to tell me that Brian had made the executive decision that he would not be sending Nate back. I got angry. I called him, he didn’t pick up and didn’t respond to any of my messages till later that afternoon. By then I was irrational and inconsolable, and from then on it went downhill.

Going through all the five stages of grief knowing I had literally lost my son out of my own goodwill was the hardest hitting cycle of my life. The denial, anger, bargaining and depression were so paralyzing. I even went to Kampala for a month to bargain, but Brian was not willing to meet me halfway. I was on my own. So I spiraled into depression. I wasn’t eating, reading less, not creating (hence the infrequent blog posts), couldn’t commit to a single thing and just wanted to stay in the dark and cry. Sometimes I’d cry so much I felt my stomach heave, ready to leave my body. I remember crying one morning and calling my Mother; she just told me to go home. I got into a cab and went straight to Kitengela. That night, my Mother held me while I cried and silently prayed for me. Even thinking of it makes me want to cry. On most nights, I couldn’t sleep. I’d be plagued by nightmares of desolation and a meaningless life, a life without Nate. A life without my lifeline. These nightmares were often followed by the overwhelming desire to end my life, because without Nate it was worthless anyway. That’s no way to live – I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. So I had to get out. I had to get myself out of that darkness. I worked my way out of that hole. I crawled to the light, and come to a point of acceptance. Which is why this birthday is special to me; I lost everything but I’m living and rebuilding. I refuse to stay down.

So here I am, 30, broken but recovering, rebuilding and full of hope, working on myself, by myself, for myself, in order to be better for me and ultimately for my son. Optimistic for a decade of blessings and prosperity. Charged with turbo energy to work towards my goal, to leave an outstanding legacy for my son. The glow up might not be televised, but the glow up will be fucking spectacular. Also, my Mom’s wish for me this decade is amazing sex and spectacular orgasms. Who am I to refuse? Happy 30th to me! 🥂


He was standing by her door, waiting. Casually juggling his keys, waiting for the elevator doors to chime open and knowing it would be her. He was early, and she was never late, unless the circumstances were extenuating. He leaned on her door frame, watching the elevator. It chimed and the doors slid open. There she was, right on time. He was both angry and excited. He hadn’t seen her in weeks and had missed her. But she avoided him, kept him at a distance, on purpose. Like some form of punishment for his disobedience.

She looked him in the eye, defiantly, challenging him to do something. Step forward and take her or say something. He did neither. Her stride was purposeful yet graceful, like a feline lurking in the shadows, stalking her prey. Approaching him at her door, her hand searching for her keys in her purse, she spoke first.

“Why are you here?”

“You’re late.”

“Why are you here?”

“Where were you? You kept me waiting.”

She paused, keys in hand, and looked him right in the eye.

“Then you should leave.”

They stared at each other, the air highly charged with hostility and lust, each daring the other to make a rash move, but neither moved. Then she did. She walked to the elevator doors and pressed the button. Perks of living on the top floor, there was only one direction the elevator could go. Down.

“Are you serious?” he asked, mildly shocked and bemused. She really knew how to push his buttons. Saying nothing and crossing her arms across her bosom, she gestured with her head at the now open elevator doors. He smirked, and reluctantly made his way to the waiting car. Just before he crossed the threshold, she leaped and wrapped her shapely legs around his waist, her black dress riding up her thighs and exposing her stockings. She kissed him hard, and he pushed them both against the nearest wall and returned her kiss, matching her fervor. Tongues in perfect synchrony, his hands on her perfectly shaped derrière, they started a fire right in that hallway.

She slid down his powerful thighs, her feet touching the floor, never once missing a beat and not letting his lips go. They stumbled to her door then she tore her lips away, frantically searching for the keyhole while his hands racked her body and his teeth found the sweet spot on her neck. She moaned as the locks turned, unlocking the door and destabilizing their precarious balance. They stumbled into her dark apartment, the only light provided by a sliver of moonlight through her sheer drapes. Shutting the door behind them, he imprisoned her between himself and her door, reclaiming her lips while his hand grabbed her thigh and straddled it on his hip.

He then went to work on her with his fingers, never once letting her lips go, deftly finding and stimulating her clitoris through her lacy underwear. She was already wet, he felt, and was more emboldened to torment her for punishing him the way she did. He slid her panties to the side and found her labia with his middle finger, sliding first that one digit then the index too for maximum effect. Fuck, she was so wet. Working his fingers and pinning her completely against the door, he set out to get at least one orgasm from her right there.

This was her show and she wasn’t having any of it. With an unprecedented surge of sexual energy, she pushed him off her and dislodged his fingers from her very wet vagina. She pushed him onto the next available wall and kept him there, quickly getting on her knees and freeing his throbbing cock from his pants. Before he could protest she took his entire length into her throat, all the way in, knocking the wind out of his lungs and blowing him the way she knew got him weak in the knees. He groaned and turned his head upward, savoring the exquisite sensations her tongue and lips sent from his glans and shaft to his brain. Her tongue and jaw worked on him, her lips applying suction to the spots that hit home. Fuck, she was good at this. He timed her and as she pulled out, then grabbed her by her shoulders and got her on her feet, kissing her and leading her towards the darkened dining area.

Hoisting her up with his hands on her waist, he perched her atop the dining table and quickly found her panties underneath her dress, urgently ripping them off and discarded on the floor. He got on his knees and placed his head at the point where her thighs met, the gold mine he sought. His tongue found her clitoris and his hands held her hips in place. With lip suction and skilled tongue maneuvers, he literally tongue fucked her silly. She moaned into the darkness, breathing hard, while his tongue rocked and swirled on her, occasionally reaching inside her for those long tongue strokes that felt a lot like waves. She wanted to stand but her knees seemed to have taken a leisurely stroll from their station. She wanted needed to feel him inside her. Urgently.

Sensing her need and responding to his own carnal desires, he got on his feet and pulled her closer to him. In one swift motion, he buried himself deep inside her, then undid his pants button and slid the damn piece of clothing off his crotch area. He then started rocking inside her, thrusting in and out, one hand firmly grasping her ass and the other tweaking her nipple hard through the fabrics of both her dress and bra. Their breathing was harsh, punctuated by moans and groans, his thrusting leaving her breathless from time to time. He went into full turbo mode and did that thing where he double thrust into her, hard and deep, sending near-violent shockwaves to her brain at an alarming speed.

Her toes started curling inside her heels and her moans grew louder. He steadied her waist with both his hands and surrendered to his basest carnal desires. He pounder her, relentlessly, pushing her beyond her limit. Her dining table shook under his relentlessness as did she, letting out her first climax with loud moans and hot jets of squirt, fucking both their remaining items of clothing up. But that did not deter him from his mission, neither did her biting nails on his wrists. He went on and on, stopping only to rip her dress and bra off while she attended to his shirt. His shoes went off with the pants while hers stayed on alongside the stockings.

Carrying her into the living room, he knelt and gently placed her on the rich Persian rug. At no point did he withdraw his throbbing manhood from her wetness. With her back secure on the floor, he placed her stockinged knees on his shoulders and snaked a hand expertly to her neck. He then went to work, fucking her into the ground. His face changed in passion, there was something indescribable about his features in that moment. He was recognizable and yet he wasn’t, and before her brain could process her thoughts to totality he hit her spot.

Goodness, was she going to climax! He thrust very hard and very fast, his hand gradually increasing pressure on her throat as she moaned louder and louder. Her eyes locked on his, and he watched the slide show of her climactic face. Her eyes rolled back, her body shook from her head to her toes and her vaginal walls vibrated the way the earth would right before a devastating earthquake. She shattered, her lips frozen agape and her back, somehow, arched. He kept pounding as he released the pressure on her neck, and she finally let out a loud, long moan, while the secretion from her ejaculation found it’s way out between thrusts. In the heat of her climax he felt his own too, and let himself shoot his shot inside her. He thrust hard, came hard, and spread his seed all up inside her. Fuck it if she conceived; they would name the baby Passion. Because she stoked his fire like no one else ever had.


They’d been on the rooftop for a few hours, having a private, starlit picnic. A blanket, littered with food, fruits and wine, lay at their feet, while they stared into the city lights, far into the night, to the point where the light met the night sky and the eyes could no longer discern what shone over what. She stood against the railing, her scarf draped loosely over her shoulders, her denim dress doing the best that could be done to cover her thighs and knees. He stood behind her, cradling her back to his chest, breathing her scent mixed with the cool night air, enjoying their perfect silence.

He kissed her neck and tasted the perfume he bought her for her birthday; a seductive scent he loved and she wore so well. His hands slowly worked their way underneath her scarf to her waist, as he thought how wonderful it would be to make love to her under the stars, a thought that made him twitch with excitement. They almost never had the privacy they currently enjoyed, not with the brood of children they had sired together over the years of their mostly blissful marriage. He missed hearing her scream his name when he made her climax and he wanted to hear that sound that night, under the stars. He wanted to ravish his wife under the stars and make her scream and shudder the way he did when they had just gotten engaged, years ago.

She tilted her head to the right and sighed when he kissed her neck, and even louder when he bit her neck in that way that got her loins wet in no time. She raised her left hand to cradle his head on her neck while her right followed his own around her waist, drawing her in tighter against his hard masculine length. Her scarf dropped off her shoulder where his head met her neck and he kissed the freshly exposed skin before the cool night air could have a bit of what he craved. With his left hand he reached up to cradle her full breast, twirling his fingers over her denim fabric covered nipple. She wore no bra and he knew the sensation would be more enhanced with the rough fabric over her. She moaned and tried to pry his hand off her breast, whispering breathily into the night.

“Babe they could find us,” she said.

“Let them,” he whispered against her neck, his right hand reaching up to gently choke her. “I’m making love to my wife either way. They’re welcome to watch.” He then bit her neck hard while simultaneously clamping his fingers hard against her nipple. She all but screamed, grabbed his wrists tighter and almost melted into his embrace. She felt his manhood throb, straining hard against the fabric of his jeans, begging to be set free. She reached out behind her and grabbed what she could, while he rubbed himself against her ample derrière, willing the fabric between them to melt away. For some reason the restraining fabric between them drove him mad with desire, so feverishly, he worked the buttons of her dress and freed her breasts.

Once free, he filled his hands with her warm, supple flesh, molding and twirling her nipples while he kissed, sucked, tasted and bit her neck. She was moaning a little louder then, following his lead as he teased and touched her. She wanted to kiss him and attempted to turn but his hold on her was so strong, she was stuck between him and the railing. Sensing her need, he reached lower to her womanhood and felt it. No underwear. How thankful he was for his wife’s disdain for underwear in that very moment! He pulled her dress up and reached between her thighs, plunging one finger inside her moist warmth. The contrast between the cold air and her warm silkiness was incredible, his already engorged manhood grew an inch longer in anticipation.

The sky started rumbling, flashes of lightening crisscrossing the sky at various points, turning the deep blue sky into various shades of blue and white. The impending storm matched his feelings, as he deftly unzipped his pants and dropped them, boxers included, to his knees. He held her waist as she hiked her ass up, thighs parted, ready to feel him fill her up. He plunged slow and deep, sinking himself inch by inch into her receptive flesh. He groaned while she moaned, feeling her wetness drip down to his scrotum and her muscles quiver around him. He stroked long and slow, savoring her, drawing each stroke out longer than the last. Damn, she was sweet, he thought. All these years later and he still couldn’t get over how sweet she was, how amazing her flesh felt wrapped around his penis.

Moaning, eyes closed, fingers tightly gripping the railing, she basked in the glory of his lovemaking under the night sky. He had always been a skilled lover but even after a decade together, each lovemaking session was better than the last. She felt new each time he invaded her vaginal walls, like it had felt the first time. He stroked her slowly and she worked her ass to counter stroke, making the sensation a lot more exquisite for the both of them. He went deeper with each stroke, filling her to the brim, making her scream louder each time. She desperately needed to feel his tongue on hers and in that very moment, the skies opened up and the first drops of rain fell on her face and breasts. She pushed him off her and down onto the picnic blanket. She was going to make use of the rain to get what she wanted.

He followed her lead and lay face up under the gently pouring rain then watched her help herself to his erect ten inches, lowering herself slowly while drops of rain glistened on her nipples, her long, thick lashes and the tip of her nose. He thought she had never looked more beautiful than this, dress bunched around her waist, breasts hanging and caramel skin kissed by raindrops. He knew, in that moment, that he was a lucky man, without a shadow of doubt. Gripping her waist, he counter stroked as she rode him, twirling her waist this way and that, slow grinding on him and moaning. She caressed her breasts while he worked her waist, oblivious to the rain, moaning and riding her man. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby” he said, watching her, urging her to ride him faster.

Tempo changed and she went wild, bucking her behind on him and grabbing handfuls of his shirt as a lever. The rain was pouring in steady streams now, and they were getting drenched. As the rain drenched them, her vagina drenched him too as her climax loomed closer.

“Baby I’m about to…”

“I feel it coming,” he cut her off, and flipped her onto her back so fast she had neither room nor time to protest. Wrapping her legs around him, she drew him in for that kiss she had been craving while he went to work on her. He thrust hard, both tongue and penis demanding she open up and share her very soul with him right there and then. His breathing was harsh and fast, her moans disappeared into his mouth, firmly meshed with hers. He felt her climax, her walls starting to vibrate faster, and he knew he had to see her cum. He pulled away from her lips and slid one arm under her thigh, effectively placing her leg over his shoulder, and choked her using his free hand. Her vibrations came faster; he went deeper, roaring as he did, burying himself deep in her uterus.

Whatever was coming for her was something unlike anything she had ever felt before. Was it the half hanging damp clothes? The rain? The cold air? Or the night sky? Whatever it was, it came and it came strong. She started to scream but he tightened his grip around her neck, and instead fucked her harder than he ever had before. Her climax shot out of her in a jet, pushing him out in the process, but never once did he let go of her neck. He plunged right back into her and fucked on, smashing her into the ground, impaling her with his weight and his dick. Her entire body shook, her nails dug into his arm and back, her eyes rolled back, lips open. She could taste the raindrops on her tongue but from a distance, because all she was certain of in that moment was him buried deep inside her, groaning and making her climax in the most profound way yet. She came and came and came, exploding over and over under him, his intense stare and incinerating roars.

And then he started to buck. As if that overwhelming multiple climax wasn’t enough to drain her, he started to twitch and buck inside her.

“Cum with me, my love,” he whispered into her ear, letting go of her neck and putting her other leg over his shoulder. He thrust deep, going in for the kill, hitting her spot in that maddening way of his to get her there with him. He rocked hard, she rocked steady, his thrusts seemingly leaving her white outline on the ground beneath her while she shook. She was screaming. He didn’t care. She shook, clenched around him, and came one more time, triggering him to release his own climax. By Jove, was it hot when it shot out of him and into her. Her uterine walls caressed and massaged him, coaxing him to leave ever drop of his essence inside her, and while he did he moaned her name into the night rain, thanking the universe for bringing her into his dark world. He shuddered one last time, the last of her moans subsiding with the last of his seed, and in that moment he knew if they had made a third baby, that baby would be a living testimony of how much he loved her. He kissed her while the rain poured on them, mixing their love with lust and sweat to form a potent concoction of unbridled passion.