You had just had quite enough of this needless ranting. You had just shifted from the back right of the bus and onto the middle seats next to Malcolm-with-the-running-nose. “Look at him go. Nothing but a sissy,” a solitary voice cut through the haze of sounds at the back. That was Eddie. Then followed a shower of insults all vulgar and in Swahili, so that they would burn even more, from the rest of the herd of goats. It
was the second trip from Bunny House school (yes even you know, it was a no-no name).

It all started when the boys at the back started talking about what they’ve been talking about since the invention of men—girls.

You weren’t a fan of such degrading talk. You found it shallow. You’re more of a comics person and tech stuff. You and Barry were on the same frequency—nerds. So when they started talking about how Yvonne has such a nice behind or how Wairimu’s breasts are getting ‘juicier’ by the day, you naturally tuned out. You were just eleven-you are justified to have more priorities than the opposite gender right? Then you heard,“What are you saying you helmet?? Colette?! Pretty? I knew you were sick! That girl has teeth larger than her head just look at her! And those goggles she wears, she Harry Potter? She’s is a weirdo from front to back!” That was it. They had just hit a ventricle in your heart. Colette was the closest thing you had to the perfect girl. Her hair was mostly almost always in neat cornrows, she had nice rounded glasses (oh you loved the effect it gave you) and she was just slim—as you liked them. So when Eddie and his ship of eggheads started on Colette you went all volcanic.
It was a fight, not of fists, of words. You gave them one that was tantamount to a meteor shower. You were in your element and were only shaken when they resorted to violence. So you left. Hands curled up in small fireballs and you frothing in a cauldron of rage—shaken not stirred. Your turn to alight finally came.” Goodbye monkey,” Some tenor voice shouted, you did not turn back to look. That was enough
for a day.

It was four of the clock and it was just the maid home and little Dede. You
clean your face at the faucet and take camp in your room. No homework, weird for a Wednesday. You did not want to think of her. Her, Colette, what was this illness coming over you over mere flesh and bones? You did not like her but she had a
special place in your heart. You had no answer to all this and hoped it would leave on its own. There was only one answer to all this agitation, PlayStation and specifically Call of Duty Advanced Warfare. You’d give those soldiers a pumping. Shit, you Eddie.
“Can I use your bathroom? Ours isn’t heating the water well” said the maid. “You’ll bathe here? And clothes?” you ask absent-mindedly without looking at her. “I have a towel, I’ll be fine. Dede is asleep in her cot so don’t make much noise,” then she got
in. You did not like this. The last time she did a stint like that her towel fell smack at the door. You were doing math so you only saw her legs and before you could increase your field of view she had already covered herself. But her legs were remarkably good looking. So when she comes today with the same story, you were
more sceptical. Dede doesn’t even sleep at this time. You were young, yes but you could smell something more than just a rat.

Your house was a three storey house; one of the largest around and every room was ensuite. How come their bathroom (she slept with Dede in one room for company purposes on Dede’s part) was not heating up today? You have to tell dad about that bathroom when he comes back from Belgium or mom when she comes at ten. Yeah, that was your life. Hardly much parent time but enough toys to cover that. But you miss them deep in your heart. She was done. The shower had gone silent. She had not used the bathtub. You wanted her out immediately, needed the man cave to yourself. You and your games—you loved playing it in high volume especially with those Bose speakers. Then she came out the white towel halfway her breasts. Revealing. You swallowed hard. And felt it rising, the hardness at your groin. Suddenly your hands are sweaty and the pad feels twice as heavy. You’re looking at her and she’s smiling. You haven’t seen such a smile apart from the movies. You instinctively know she wants something from you. But do you?
You were the tallest in your class and always seemed a class ahead considering that you were brilliant bordering on genius hence you looked pretty large for an eleven-year-old
. Your dressing was scarce at the time: a sleeveless grey T-shirt with the Nike tick on the right of your chest. You had a jet black Addidas short that was currently ending at your thighs considering you were in the lotus flower pose. The two of you
hold your gaze for what seems like an eternity before she drops the towel and slithers to you.

In another world, you could have fainted. She was Potiphar’s wife and you were Joseph, you ought to be on your heels like yesterday. Nevertheless, you are just there,
unable to move and she radiates a kind of energy that can only be termed as nuclear considering you are Hiroshima here, being blown to bits. It’s the first time you have
been privileged to observe the full bloom of womanhood. She is an extra dark and it gives her a magical effect.

Like a black pearl, her magic invites you on an enchanted journey along her contours. Now that you look at it, her face is well formed and has
delicate features. Vivacious eyes, a medium mouth with full lips, a nose that is just right and not to high cheekbones that you suddenly itch to hold. And are those breasts?
Goodness. Ripe fruits with perfect balance and erect nipples that were depriving you of oxygen. The posterior end was enormous. She has just climbed onto your bed
wearing the disarming smile and her hand reaches for it, considering it is bulging like a malignant tumor. You can’t move. And when she places your hands on those lovely things that were her breasts you can only oblige, hypnotized, you are defenseless to this black snake. She pulls the short down slowly pushing you into a sleeping position; you face the ceiling waiting for what seems like the execution. She just has to hold it and you feel like your soul is being pulled out of you, only that it is pleasure. You’ve just had your first ejaculation and you feel a mixture of pleasure and distaste. You want her to go, no to stay, you don’t know. “You’ll enjoy just wait” She voiced in a purring voice. Who says that! Then she put it into her mouth!!
You wanted to cry out. You did not like this. It was just too much. But something told you were cornered and it was ages before mom came. But she was not quite done with you. She somehow knew what to do to keep your male member going strong, and when she sat on it and it entered unchartered territory you knew that she had taken something from you, something precious and something irreplaceable. You held on to her, her skin her tits, her kitty, her everything, it was the ride of your life.

Her name was Akinyi and you were always trying to erase her from your memory.


T H E  F L O R I S T



To my dear readers, may these and other stories blossom in you and delight you as the fragrance of luxurious flowers.

6 thoughts on “BLACK PEARL

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