I Shaved My Thing, Ready To Surprise My Boyfriend

It was First term midterm break. I had already counted my safe days on the calendar I was given by County Medical clinic. As an enlightened Kenyan, I had circled the three day period of safety, shaved the mons pubis ready to surprise my boyfriend. But sometimes I had mood swings boardering on extrwames of giving in to his demands or declining. The former gave in. My lover was a young 25 year old, happy go lucky working in one of the corporate offices. I took the razor I had just shaved myself with, washed it and placed it on its safe. I took a shower, wore my blue turquoise top, adjusted my tight fitting black miniskirt,then stepped out.

I looked like a real goddess. Like a reincarnation of Monica Lewinsky when Bill Clinton couldn’t resist her amorous looks. I then took a bus to his small house in the suburbs of Machakos near Peter Mulei supermarkets. I saw a figure move in a huff in his house through the window sill. It was him. My boyfriend! My love! I knew with certainty that defied the odds that today things must happen. The earth had tilted on its axis. His sugarcane must at whatever cost taste the juicy morsel of my honey. I knocked repeatedly and heard footsteps. When Jackson Mutua opened ,I saw love in his eyes. Eyes that were inviting me to swim into. I saw his chest admirable from the palbable darkness that was being chased by the security light he lit. My whole chest have in.We hugged and kissed as he held me tightly close. The town glowed each time my knight n shining armor descended upon my anticipating lips. Those were the greetings whenever I visited him.
Ever since JM as I fondly called him settled his eyes on me, I knew that he was the man. We had dated for six months and at no time had he shown his back on me.

That night, I went straight to the kitchen, prepared supper, a sumptuous ugali and some goat meat. We ate to our fill, then went to sleep. The squeaky bed that it was later was me under tough muscular hands of a man who had waited for six months. The cry of pain under the spell of a sexually deprived cassanova lover was mine under the tricks of my handsome man. We tried fellatio. Cunnillingus. Catterpilar dance. Bicycle.

He was a real Escobar but now not with a minor. One time he sat on the bed as he spread his legs apart,his weak neck fell back like the Death of an Eland poem, supported his supple back with his two hands as I administered quick fellatio on his big bogoyo banana. He foamed. He squinted. He raised legs, up in the air. It was as edifying as it was enthralling. My word! When his turn came, I lay prostrate on his mahogany bed, him pulling and pushing and me assisting him to administer cannons of bullets in my cake. When we came to, JM held me by the torso. It was late psst midnight. We now talked. Talks that boardered on our future,how to raise the baby. It must be known that kissing any African girl any part of the body leads to pregnancy. Any body part especially the cheeks is very fertile. He then slept soundly .I don’t know why many men sleep post coitus. It happened to my JM. I nicknamed him so when we went to Nairobi during a show then to one of his favourite music joints at Club Tribeka. I had just completed campus ND him working under the Ministry of Tourism.

We had met at an Exhibition at Machakos. I looked at him, his body, his gait,his beautiful long eyelashes that I admired to touch. Then looked at his weapon of mass procreation that had escaped the wrath of my sumbuza the last six months. I held him tight, woke up to drink some water. My mind raced to the distant future. I longed for my child but not this fast. But it was fast and furious because I could tell the humping, jumping and smooching had given rise to an offspring. My days were not safe. I realized this upon remembering the calender that I hang on my wall.

My last menses was on a Monday. But I slept unperturbed and waited. The following morning we went to church at nine. He was a staunch catholic and so do I up-to this day. Fast forward to March that year, I missed my periods.I must have been impregnated by JM.

My mood swings changed. There were still charged remains of our last action packed thrill on his bed that Sunday Afternoon when I left. His holy waters had found their way into my Gutenberg spot that afternoon. I felt it. But when I broke the news to him that Monday, he hung up almost clicking. I had heard stories of girls being dumped, denied and left to fix their devices but I never thought JM would. Still, I dialed his number. Next episode,,,,,,,