By The Drone Bee
So you cherish the drill, a gaze from an exterior sight labels it
plain simple, plain madness, madness that feeds on pleasure and the lust
that boarders on naivety and gullibility. It is pleasurable, that
coital behavior. You feel that ravenous horn should be quenched because
you feel campus is the right time to experiment but have you met Teddy.
She looks malnourished at the age of 21. She was a healthy being before
she joined campus. She owned chubby cheeks, luscious pouts and sexy
derrieres, the type that left all the boys in her hostel drooling
whenever she hit the canteen for a snack but have you seen her now?
Her body is gaunt, her hands emaciated like a fairy fly and the hips
she once swayed in all those sexy directions can no longer support her
glide at the catwalk. Instead, she wishes she had a toilet in her room
just a few inches aside her bed because then, it would be simple to put
her hips to a better use, squatting. Yes, nowadays, squatting is more
pleasurable than squirting to her. She gushes out streams of yellow
liquid ceaselessly every day to endure a painful pleasure. A pleasure
that is not a pleasure because it is a pain and a pain that is not a
pain because it is a pleasure when she lets the hot yellow liquid escape
and ooze out her bottom orifice , every time she squats, she is
pleasured because well, it’s a relief, except she loathes this pleasure.
It drains her of hope, of blood or to articulate, any fluid that flows
in her veins and how is that pleasure. How is the thought that she might
not make it the next day pleasurable folks?
You will swear a thousand times that you haven’t seen her because you want to avoid the
thought of what could arise as a result of your feats at that hostel.
You convince yourself that you haven’t met her yet it’s clear she was
once like you, she once heard pulsating urges to act in thrall to her
sexual desires.
But you insist you haven’t met her still so I will tell you about Teddy.
Teddy joined campus last year under government sponsorship. She was,
(because she ain’t now) a flower, a glowing one at that. She was as
brown as hot chocolate, her facial skin as smooth as the inside of a
rose petal and as soft as velvet. That was her, thin in the waist and
curvaceously big on the burst and she knew it.
She flaunted her mermaid-like body with skimpy attire, so to speak, dresses that exposed
the glowing chocolate skin that sat atop her thigh born. She was,
according to one of the bank managers at Centenary bank Mapeera house, a
tiny mound of ice-cream that anyone would pay a life’s fortune to lick.
She was, according to an Indian stake holder in Mukwano group of
companies, “ a goddess”.
But because she is a human being, we all
know she is beautiful. The horny men will add the word “stunning” to the
whole description equation of what she was.
She was, in the words of her lecturer, a naïve girl who was overwhelmed by the attention the
men accorded her. That’s why it was easy for all the lectures to see her
loins. All it took was a promise and a fake gift that lasted exactly
the time they took pursuing the sight of her loins and she was on all
fours. Ok, sometimes on her back but the essence remains engrossed in
one fact, she was a young goat in the wilderness. Easily enticed by the
grass the tigers promised because either, she was warned and chose to
ignore or her parents just didn’t warn her about the lions and tigers in
the Jungle. They probably didn’t warn her about the beast HIV/AIDS.
To be continued
