pals

For my two friends living in extreme ends of the world...but both with a story to tell

The meaning of care

Carlotta,

Many are times I have inquired about the meaning of life, not in a psychological or philosophical sense but just in a human sense. I have wondered about the meaning of life and all the prohibitions that come with it...it is true that with education, I have come to realize that the "donts" are summaries of a deep moral reasoning behind.

There are times that I questioned the "don'ts" and felt rebelious, but mainly because I was so short-sighted to see the values behind them. I have been fortunate to be a virgin for a long time...I had a girl friend and much as I wanted her badly, she was just not ready...and for some reason, I managed to respect her...

I was later to be separated from her but then again I am not a virgin but my love for a woman was entirely shaped by this girl. I know what it means to be used...there was in my class a girl I had no love for whatsoever, but because men mocked her because of her wanting in beauty, I felt sorry for her and kept her company...she took this for show of love...and began to make moves, honestly I did not want and I felt so bad about it...I did not want to lay with her but at the same time I could not bring myself to hurting her feelings.

Finally I made a compromise with myself: I told myself that I would only kiss her. I did that when the opportunity provided itself. It was the most insincere act I have ever done. She felt my absence in the act, like a child deceiving mum that the medicine is okay...I felt used and abused...I hated myself and felt like trash. She was my friend and it is not her physical looks that I disowned, it is just that we did not click...but the feelings of being used was there all the same.

One thing women fail to realize is that even us men, we are vulnerable. I know in this country how women have chased after me...when I was in Graduate School two ladies fought over me for no good reason. I had been invited for coffee at Starbucks by one lady (an American) as we discussed a class subject...as we left, we decided to use her car and come back to the Campus for studies at the library.

There was also a Polish girl (came to the States at the age of seven, no accent) who had made some move without success. She was lean and tall the exact opposite of the American. She could not understand why I chose this one over her (it was her thinking that we were too close) and so she made a fool out of herself...but the point is that the way she used to sit next to me in class, ask for my notes, keep my book, reserve seat for me when am late, if I came earlier and all seats taken, she'd take over someone's seat at break time...boy! It was unbearable...she was literally a stalker.

Friends adviced me to take her "since she is beautiful" but I do not believe that beauty is the mark of true relationship...certainly I value beauty and I go for it...but love for me is more important. I did not love these ladies, I just cared for them...I was there for what our common interest was, academic and besides that, nothing.

I know that this is shameful but I was raped by my aunt (Mother's sister) she was living with us when she was in high school and did not have time to mix with others...she loved me very much though she was a teenager and I, only a little boy. She told me to "do it" or she'd tell my mum that I was a bad boy. The most painful thing is that as early as those years (six years old) I felt dirty...I hated sex...I felt that I belonged to *Ibilisi and hell was my lot.

We had a Christian picture on the wall of someone dying and a priest praying over her but the devil was pulling her with the bed-sheets to hell. The Chief-Devil was in the Fire dressed in Red, the other devils were naked black-men with tails and horns (no offence intended, I am not a racist); that is what I thought of myself...I will go to hell because of sleeping with a woman whom I call "mama mdogo" ... for us aunts actually are only sisters of your father and uncles are only brothers of your father (sisters of your mother are your mamas and brothers of your fathers are babas...**mkubwa au mdogo kulingana na ujediri wa kuzawa).

It is strange how this woman thought that what she did to a six year old would be forgotten by the kid. She got married and was out of my life for many years. She lived in Lamu and my dad somehow thought that WaLamu are dirty and backward so we hardly went there...well, in 1999 I went to Malindi to visit a friend and I met her...I had forgotten how she looked like but I remembered that she was a stutterer and what she did.

She asked me if I could identify her, well I could not because she spoke without that speech-disorder now that she was older. When she introduced herself, boy did I feel sick? She asked me what the matter was but I could not say, thinking that she had forgotten and only I could remember it. I told her that I will be okay...that for a moment I just had to chase the demon from my heart.

This lady became interestingly very curious. She pulled me aside and asked what exactly happened to me...and looking at her straight in the eye, I had the courage to say: "I remember everything." She knew then and could not deny it...I asked her why she hurt me...dumb as she was, she said that she thought men love it and that she thought it was a favour. I cannot imagine the terrible insult I felt...I just could not talk. When I am very badly hurt, I tend to be speechless until things calm down...I left and went.

I had never been bothered by that, in fact there was nothing in my life that had reference to the child-abuse I experienced almost on a daily basis. I thought I loved women like any young man and did not run for sex because I was respecting women. Well, it turned out that I needed feminine affection but I was not emotionally mature due to my childhood experience. I felt safe near women who would love and care without demanding for sex. Girls came to love me, not because I was that handsome but because they felt that there were no ulterior motives behind my affection for them.

I played with them, in school they read their boy-friends' letters and were not shy to give me a peep. Yet in the group, there would be little pickings if I tended to favour one a little more. They did not mind being alone with one of them so long as there was some balance. I became good in school because girls are good in team work and group studies...we gave each other assignment and worked them out together...

There was just great affection until I began to change voice and to grow pubic hair. My beared came a little too early...and my arms and chest hairy. At first they did not mind, then a little touch and giggles made me begin to feel that I was different, then the illegal kiss and the rest follows...I grew up normally and loved one woman at a time, never cheating but truly giving the whole of me to her...I love to love more than enjoy being loved...I just can do little things because I have been brought up by a good loving mother and nice beautiful and caring sisters...yet my aunt was a she-devil.

I understand what you are saying about fear, but I think you cannot remain in your past. There is a present you are losing and a future you are destroying. There is need for you to wake up and begin to live your life. I am here for you and I want you to know that I will be there. There are not many things I am good at, but the few that I can do, I do them without dissipation. I am the kind of guy that is not ashamed to say "I am sorry" when I am wrong. I am not ashamed to let you know that I am not perfect...if perfection is what you are looking for, then you missed your desire by choosing me.

I can only promise you progress in becoming better, discussion early enough before things get worse, and loving you as you are. I just want to be taken as I am but not be left as I am found. I want to take you as you are and make you even better. Your success is mine for the praise that people give to you is my glory as the man who lives with it...I wanna make you proud to be a woman and to see that manhood is not oppresive but complementing...I want to share with you my life, for what greater gift could I ever give to someone than the gift of my very self.

Tell me, which person would choose to hand over his or her life to someone he did not mean to love with all his heart. This would be the most stupid of all acts - an act unworthy of a rational being. If I understand marriage to be a merging together, a handing over of the self to the other so as to receive the "other-together-with-you-as-given" and if you know that we never meet ourselves unless through the other, then it only follows that one who gives the WHOLE of the self to the other, gets what the other has given plus the WHOLE of his/herself...at least if the other denies you her self, then you will be rewarded by getting yourself back...I have to love the person who has taken me over...and I must be so caring for the trust vested upon me by one who hands over her life to me.

The responsibility to take care of the other's life is more demanding than to take care of your own. The security that someone else is taking care of your life is so refreshing that you are left free to care for her life. I then have a reason to go to work ... I am working for her and her children that now she calls "mine too" I work for her happiness because when she laughs she tells me "thank you" in a better way than using the word "thank you"...when she talks to me, her attention is just overwhelming...sometimes she lies on my chest just to make it even more evident that she knows that her life is in my hands...when I eat food prepared by her, it just tastes differently...the clothes she buys for me are better than those I buy for myself...the matching she makes for me in the morning to wear is a better taste than my own. The women at work when they admire me, I tell them that it is my wife who made the choice...you are my subject of conversation, my joy at home, my pain in your absence, my desire when frustrated, my rest when tired, my pleasure when tense, my food when hungry, my fong to sing when blue, my love for life, and my life for love.

Barney 

*the devil
** the eldest or the youngest according to when they were born

I can tell what you wanna hear

Carlotta,
 
Thanks a lot for understanding my questions. I only ask you kindly not to tell your mama about my questions, she's gonna think that you are married to a nut! Well, actually I dont care at all. It is only that I am sure she cannot bring up the issue for any discussion.
 
You asked about the size of my "Quasi" well, and then you recanted your request. Should I answer or not? Yet, you kept coming to the net to check what answer I gave only to find that I have not checked the mail. This frustrated you because you really wanted to hear...or at least to be sure that I am not hurt by the request to know "Quasi's" length. 
 
Well, it is the idea of every young male to know how long it is. The youthfulness of the male is actually not a chronological age, it is the male ego. I think we shall have to do this together because hidden behind the length question, is: under what circumstances were the measurements made? If you promise that those circumstances will not be brought into the discussion until a later time if need be, then I will promptly answer your question.
 
My actual size is 7.8 inches at its fullest length (in erection). This is accompanied by a diameter of 1.9 inches. Within the same circumstances. I do admit that it is above average, but the vagina is usually flexible to accomodate from 2 inches on. It is general belief in both women and men that the longer and bigger the better, but actually it does not matter because the most sensitive areas of a woman are "three-points" with the one close to the upper part of the vaginal mouth as the most sensitive. All the three points are close to the surface area.
 
The myth around the long and thick is only true in one area: the duration of the play. For women who are hyper-active, and easily overdo the men, they stand a better chance of satisfaction even by inexperienced men because the muscles hold longer. The point for men is to learn to listen to the woman. Love-making is a language that once there is a non-verbal communication, complemented and supplemented by verbal but non-rational sounds, or emotional but non-rational ones, then it is just enough to know the "not-yet" and the "ready" moments.
 
My nipples too are big...but just the nipples, not the breasts. Fat men tend to have breasts (or at least they look like) I am not big so there is no fear of that, but my nipples are big because my mother has big breasts...though she is thin. I guess our daughters may either inherit it from me, or be like you. Now here is a point about the big-nipples and the big penis: is that those of such structures are usually very sexually minded. They love it! I love making love, but I am not an addict. I can control but when I have it, I have our worth. I love quality stuff and so when there is not enough time, I cannot settle for a quicky! I cannot just run in and out, I dwell there. Are you ready to take on that? I really love to feel every aspect of my beautiful one.
 
Now think of the length and width in terms of penetration into you. Think of the simultaneous embrace that locks us together, think of the succulent kiss that is in itself another love-making at the top...as you feel my breath and I lie between your breasts...think of then doing it slowly and peacefully as those who have become one and not mutual exploiters of each other...think of it that you neither have to hide nor be ashamed that you do it...it is yours, you can walk with me in the streets, kiss me there, or anything that is expressive of our love and affection...think that husband and wife are not just married, they are best friends and lovers...then you know that there is more to the length and width and duration than you can imagine. But we still have to do the latest measurement...and it is you to do it...and then give it a beautiful pecan ice-cream! Dont complain, you took me there gal! Just teasing. I wanna sleep with you on the floor, in the kitchen, at the lounge, on the couch,in and on the bed, every room must be blessed by our intimate presence in the style that is most intimate and convenient for the place. Remember that I too have a job.
 
My job will be to trace the surface area of you vagina with my tongue. I will make it a point to know its circumference, its inside by feeling it with the tongue. I must get to acknowledge the three points with my tongue. The two on the sides a little lower in and the one above, a little to the top. I will tickle it well until you reach orgasm with my tongue and I taste the juice that you offer to me. It is then that I will have taken the bonding juice and the meal of your life. It is sweet to know that in that I become completely yours.
 
After tracing with my tongue, then I will put my male-markings in my territory sealing the entry with only my scent so that no one will ever feel at home there. It will be mine both determinately and regularly. It will be my dwelling place as long as we are alive...it will never be equalled to by another for the rest (if you choose to find out against my will) will be mere imitations. Nothing else will be desirable than your key. People think that women give "medicine" to men, but no - I tell you, if a man makes a woman happy, and the woman truly feels it, there is nothing else a man wants...and the ignorant think it is medicine. Have you seen where "Wazee" have condemned a woman for giving medicine to a man...only the gossipers come with such things...men envy such a man and women become jealous of their treasures.
 
There is one think I wanna blame you for. It is actually very bad...and I would kindly request you to stop. Please, stop not-continuing to love me. It is the only thing you continue to do that I want you to stop....you are not not-loving me and stop doing that, just continue to love me everyday more and more. Can I add something again? 
 
I love you as my other half, as my baby-gal, I am your teddy-bear to play with, I just wanna make you completely consumed with love that for you to live without me around will be unimaginable torture...I want you hooked on me and I on you so that we become genuinely addicts dependent on each other in the most free-est way possible.
 
Love
Barney

Your Letter

Carlotta,


Thanks for your letters: I was up at that hour, and I really did think about you. It was 3:00am Minnesota time, I am beginning to dislike Minnesota, by the way, too many Somalis here, and when I ask them where they come from, they say Kenya! I used to ask them "what part" until I realized that they hardly speak English, and totally no Kiswahili! What kind of Kenyan is that...even Kiswahili cha bara is something close to Swahili anyway - no offence intended...but then again, if you take offence so what? To whom will you take offence, is it not safe with me only?


Then you said that you like attending classes but not doing exams. You remarked as a by the way, "I like fast things" well babie, here is where we differ...I like them slow, deliberate and
smooth...with occassional fast beats towards the end as the tempo rhythmically ascends only to enter into the realm of radical descent.  I like to savor the sweetness, feeling every
movement back and forth, and around. I like cooking it real hot until it begin to hiss! Ever cooked ugali* so well, when you are stirring the mwiko* you see the dough bubbling and hissing like a snake? I just like to lead your dear one to that feelings until you literally feel the hissing. My mwiko cooks deliberately, strongly, firmly and yet very gently.


Even as I cook, I can see your saliva almost pouring outta your mouth...dont mind, I'll drink it for you...I love to bath on your sweat...and to sink between your 'bumps'...well, that is how slow I am. Needless to say, I have never admired those in a hurry as if the house was on fire. I think there is a difference between being on fire, and my house in fire.


I used to hear friends saying that I "came five times" well, for me to be honest, at least twice...the third is only if the dawn does not sneak on me asleep! It is a beautiful time, when its raining and the noise of rain pata-pataring out there and we are locked into one another...boy, whatever that guy put between our legs, I sure am grateful - no regrets! Then just the fascination of looking at the face that I love most. I want to almost hear it in every
expression. It is mine to indulge in, mine to contemplate, to adore, to love and to interprete every single twitch of a senew. I wanna know you more than the back of my hand...no kidding. Temporality is not enough, finitude is very delimiting...I need eternity to handle this.

 

You are not just sweet as a song, you are my SONG...I sing you! Urembo wako, uzuri wako, na madaha jo, yote ni ya kupendeza! - your beauty, your goodness, your flattering ways, all are admirable - I wish I could sing you in taarab*...then you know that we’ve got a tradition jamani. I just love you and please, make sure you take your milk regularly then lactose will conform otherwise, take lactose free. I used to be that way but I began taking a glass daily of 1% and now I have no problem. I cannot take whole milk though, even half-half still messes up my tummy.


Blessings and Peace
My Pearl
Barney

 
Footnote:

1)      Ugali ; Kenya’s main staple food, made of maize flou rand stirred in boiling water until cooked.

2)      Mwiko ; A special flat wooden spoon used to stir ugali

3)      Taarab ; Traditional song originally by the Nubians

 

Darling my Love!

Carly,

I have missed you all these days. I have been longing to hear from you but I could not get to you. I have just been reading your two mails: the first one (Good night) and the second where you are hoping that I am fine. I'd like to inform you that my hip has not been good. I called my doctor and he has booked me for tomorrow at 11:30am...with the MRI taken and the x-rays, I hope that he will do his best. Actually the diagnosis is clear but I am just worried because I have to travel and I do not want to be surprised in the middle of important commitments. Otherwise I am fine and I walk now without a limp. It is just so hard to go up the stairs...and for a little while I am sleeping in the downstairs bedroom...the house-keeper does help me alot but she only comes part time from 3:00pm-6:00pm though at times she delays until 7:00pm. She is a very sweet lady...almost maternal.

This morning was wonderful. The Sun came out and the brightness of the day made me just feel happy. I love walking out after the sauna and whirlpool (you already know that I love water) because I heat my water real high and then after the 'dunking' I just sweat as if I have been doing exercises. It is very enjoyable to sit there and just enjoy the gushes of water running all over you. I sometimes imagine us together in the pool. I took a short walk around the compound went to the streets just to get the feel but did not do so much.

Sometimes it gets so lonely when no one visits...I used to bury myself in the books or watch some movie, play music and go to bed and that was just enough. Now I have an addiction. I am addicted to you and there is no medicine. Actually I am so hooked that I do not even want any medicine. I just love you.  When I think of you, I call you by name: 'Carly' and I imagine you turning and taking a look. Sometimes I imagine that we are cuddling together covered in a light shawl watching cartoons. I love cartoons...Tom and Jerry get me cracking. I love popcorns too...with butter (my mother wonders why I cannot get fat with all the popcorns that I eat) I just have a section in the cabinet for them...five minutes in the micro-wave and am ready. What do you like sweetheart? 

I love butter-pecan ice-cream, too...I just enjoy going to movies that at one point it seems I ran out of what to watch since I had seen them all. I do not drink or smoke but I dont mind those who do...do you drink or smoke (it wont change my addiction to you)? I like evening walks during summer and fall...I jog early morning and play pick-and-play soccer at the nearby park in West Chester. I am not very athletic but I have moments out. I love dancing very very much. I am a good dancer. In D.C. I used to go to Zanzibar for a dance. Then I heard that another place was opened in Baltimore close to the shore...I loved the place too. I am good in lingala dance though people get surprised about that(?!). I still believe in whole-milk and certainly NOT skimmed for me, may be you will begin buying that...dont ask me to drink it (hehe). I love mandazi, mahamri* ...rice made with cocoanut...pilau*  (and I can make it for you!) I wanna make you know that when a woman allows a man to spoil her, it is a sign to him that he matters for her. It is enjoyable to make one happy.

Beware, I am unpredictable. I will play tricks on you...I will surprise you (pleasantly)...I like scaring (just a little) nothing traumatic. I do not like making my darling anxious...either in fear or making you guess where I am, what am doing, whether am happy...and I am never ashamed to tell you that am sorry when I am wrong.  I let pride rule me so many times...you will help me get over that; I like getting out so much...may be you will manage our finances; I love to be decent and well dressed...may be you will teach me to like some torn jeans...can you imagine...I wore jeans last when I was in high school! I love white sneakers (K-Swiss, Reebok, Adidas, Nike) but must be all white and no mixture of colors (I do not like things that are too showy on me)...I do not mind my darling being so...I let you be what you want but allow you to dress me and decide what is best fitting for me...(there goes my pride again).

Generally I fear being misunderstood...and consequently it is hard  for me to correct you because I don't wanna hurt you. You will help me do this...I am sure, but feel free to correct me. I do not talk very much but I am very funny and playful...I do not know how this fits but I wanna let you know that I love you. I really do.  For dinner today I ate Tuna Casserole, a glass of milk and home-fries. I took jello for my dissert with butter scotch syrup for topping. I do not like brocoli but the lady says 'you've got to eat your greens Barney', sometimes I feel as if she is my mother...and that aint funny! I just dont wanna hurt her, but I hate the damn stuff...well, it is not a big deal...I just wanna share with you little things I do.

 I forgot to tell you that I did not floss this morning. I just dont floss most of the time...I brush my teeth after meals...except in the morning when I do it before bathing (or shower). I have only one black underwear (the rest are all white! Gotcha)...my T-Shirts are all white too. Dont ask me how many pairs of shoes I have...I tell you honestly, I have no idea. To give you just the clue: I keep them according to color and type (whether sneakers, sandals, boots, mocasines, leather, etc)...mostly I dress up...except for Fridays (when at home and weekends).

I love swimming and water volley-ball (in the swimming pool at a local club)...I love new good cars...but I do not like sport-cars...they are very showy and gives me the impression that one needs to be recognized. I love calm colors both in dressing and of my cars...I love siemese cat ... and German Shepherd (because they do not shed their fur...and they can run around the wide compound so that I do not have to walk them everyday)...I love flowers and I even plant them...I love tomatoes and plant them around the yard during spring...  I think I'd  love watching the way you walk...the way you eat...I like looking at you changing your clothes...or beautifying yourself after shower...I like taking shower with you. I like singing to you out of tune...and laughing with you. I like seeing you eating something while watching TV from the couch. I like looking at your toes and making fun of them. I love the feeling that you love me too.

Barney

*Mandazi is plain doughnuts and mahamri is the revised version of mandazi, made with cardamons...yuum

*Pilau is spiced rice (cumin seeds, cardamon, black pepper, cinnamon, whole cloves, ginger, garlic, chilies; optional)...general name is pilau masala. Pilau can be mixed with either meat or chicken or even plain and accompanied by kachumbari , a salad comprising of onions, tomatoes, corriander, with a tinge of lemon juice.

Be my valentine

Carlotta,
I hope you got already my mail. I have been away since morning and I just came back just in time for dinner. I miss you...it is today that I feel comfortable in telling you openly that I LOVE YOU. I miss you so very much. It is as if a part of me has been wrenched from me and taken away. My wound is gaping and my tears are read, for she who can give me peace is far away from me. I love you. I have enjoyed the song that you 'wrote' for me...I have a lot of Celine's CDs but I have no idea if I have ever heard of this one in this way before. All I know is that you are mine and it makes me so happy.

You are my darling, it is as if I feel your footsteps coming close to me...it gives me pleasure, but it tortures too, as the sound grows louder but the person never reaches. I imagine you holding my shoulder and talking to me from behind...this is one of the ways I use to deal with the silence of your absence. I wanna hold your hands, look at your eyes, raise your dress up and scratch your back...feed you with chocolate and smear it all around your face. I will never forget the day that I met you. You remember that we began long time ago...those days that you were shocked that I am calling myself those crazy names...well, I had gotten used to the name before the troubles began...I had to quit it.

Tonight I will lay myself down to sleep as I think of you. I will caress my pillow with you in mind. I will hum a song for you and stroking your hair let you sleep on my woollen chest. I wish I could be with you on this Valentine's day...do not tell me that someone else will take my seat...as for your part, rest assured that no one takes this place...I will be with friends and relatives...

Nothing that you do not approve of will be done. Besides, my hip is not good honey. You know what - Carlotta, the good thing is that it is not exactly the hip but where it joins with the femur bone...actually the leg part (not the waist) I still can make us happy. If I were to meet you as we wanted, believe me Sweetheart, I probably could not resist your attractive self...I wanna be your man so that you are proud of me... When I talk in the house about 'ladies' I actually talk about you...it  is you that I envision and tell others how much I love you. Believe me it is not infatuation and neither is it a naive form of love...it is just wonderful that sight cannot be considered to be the monopoly of enticement to love...for us it has been knowing the heart intuitively behind what we write.

We have transcended those early stages when we wanted to impress, and now it is just us. I love you for taking me as I am...I sometimes think of those times when you will be visiting...and staying for a while before you go back to school...I had thought of you studying at my school but it is not a good idea...first, it may interfere with your studies, and secondly it may happen that you attend my class and this is against professional ethics...but you could be anywhere near me...which is extremely possible in NY. I am sure you will love our place...rather quiet but decent. I am just not given to noisy and crowded areas. A certain measure of privacy gives me a sense of identity and independence. I just dont like to be with 'everybody'...lakini I am sociable as you will learn pretty first. I am a good cook too...though I do not cook often since someone helps me with that and it is not fair to hurt people.

It is one way in which we help those who are not as privileged. Mpenzi wangu (my love) if you have not laid yourself to sleep, just imagine that your husband is there beside you and putting you to sleep with joy. I love you once more and pliz gal, you beta smail...Ai min it!


Barney

Carlotta's reply

Barney

Been like over 24 hours, and I feel like I have not had you for a lifetime. How many other lifetimes have I known you? I feel as though I have known you before. I miss you like crazy. I wish I could be with you. I think I'm falling deeper and deeper each day into you. Everything I feel about you is trapped inside my head, I cannot even get to express some of it in writing for lack of words. Language needs to evolve more, or maybe I am just using an inferior language.
 
The short fantasy story you wrote me, I noticed you took note of a lot of what both of us like. I know you like rubbing backs a lot, hehe, you had to add that. You know I like old things, so you had the curtain with the hold. We both love summer, hence the early summer son. The china you mentioned from your mother, you have a strong sense of family. I love to sleep, you got that one right. And I like to walk, take advantage of morning air, especially when it is till crisp. You tried to capture my sense of humor, but coming from you, it sounded like you, hehe. I like that.

 The images were more optical and visual than tactile. I liked the coffee and the bread, I wonder what you put on it though. Hehe, holding the bread like my fingers were going to chafua it, I like that touch. I think you purposefully avoided more touch, coz you know that makes me uncomfortable, especially if a guy talks about it too much. But it made me think, how does he taste like? How does his skin feel, how would it feel on my fingers? How would it be, to have our heart bearts synchronize, naturally, and not even know it, then find out and laugh about it? To much fantasy huh? Boy, you got my mind thinking a lot ;-)

only yours,

Carlotta

Ndoto ya Mapenzi (Dreams of Love)

Carlotta,

...I looked through the window and realized that the day was gloomy. The dark dreary clouds made everything so bleak that there was hardly anything to cheer me up. It was snowing, and I tried to put off the melancholic mood I was in but things only became more frustrating. I went downstairs, opened the fridge but there was nothing worth eating...I looked up at the cabinet shelves as though there was something specific I was looking for but the search yielded no relief. I sighed in frustration...this was one sad Tuesday morning.
 
 I thought of a miriad of things to do...then a thought struck my mind:'I should listen to music!' I had known many a time when things were blue that I was cheered up by the music of Chrystal Gayle, Celine Dione, Faith Hill, and many other Easy Listening Music. I even thought of days when Judy Boucher was interesting to me...a little tune began to linger in my mind, soon it was taking the form of words as I began to hum the words: 'you took my sadness, and turned them to happiness...since that time, I have wanted you...' As I sang, my feelings began to wander...it was the thought of this girl that I had met in D.C. just very close to Pennsylvania Ave. She was walking alone and lost in thought as if she was deeply hurt. I talked to her and her impeccable accent reminded me of the Luhya in Western Kenya. Talking to her, she realized that I was Kenyan too...it was then that our friendship began to take shape...
 
After many months of our meetings, and sharing we sort of drifted to a level of deep friendship. It is this girl that I had placed at the top of my life. I loved her subtle way of correcting my mistakes without embarrassing me...only that by then she had not known that shame is one thing that I consider to be a hindrance to learning. I loved the way she became blunt at times...even teasing me that whenever she would want to make love, she'd not fear to let me know! I loved her so much that I became terrified that she would know and think that I was just taking advantage of her. Fearing to lose her made me very cautious in discussing certain issues with her...issues that dealt with sexuality. I had even thought of touching her, but wondering whether she was lesbian or bisexual made me feel that I needed to walk at her pace, not mine. I decided to wait, for if she turned out to be lesbian, I'd still be ready to have her for a friend, but if not, granted my heterosexual orientation, I'd readily have her. The songs of Chrystal Gayle and Celine Dione gave me encouragement to try and see what happens.
 
As we say in my culture that it is by throwing a stone in the bush that we come to know what lurks in the unknown. I decided to walk a few blocks away to her apartment so as to meet her. I walked, lost in thought, wondering whether I was going to be sent home or I'd be received. At the door, it took me awhile to get the courage to ring the door bell. I just couldnt make it! I turned to leave quietly hoping that I have not been seen, then ... from the window came the voice, 'come on in.' I was just rehashing and rehearsing what to tell her as an excuse. I was not going to tell her that I was chickening out! There are a few white lies I could say and get away with it...well, she was not the kind of woman one easily deceived...she looked at my eyes straight...I felt as though she was seeing the whole of my inside...I tried to hide but my heart pounded as if to reveal what was going on inside me - I felt betrayed!
 
This heart is bad...I muttered, and she misunderstood me...or rather, I liked the interpretation she gave (This hurts bad)...I then went on to say: 'my heart wants to be here'...she validated my feelings by telling me that it was her pleasure that I had paid her a visit...chuckling as she talked, she hinted at the truth that I am basically African, showing without invitation! I laughed too... Then she held me, and hugged me...it was the warmest hug I have ever received. Her hands wrapped around me made my front swell in my pants that I almost felt embarrassed. Looking at me, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue...I followed the lead...It was so nice that I lingered on for awhile. I bet I could suck her whole saliva. In deep sensual intoxication, I asked if she would permit me to touch her breasts...she agreed but not without a word...'now you are destroying my defences...' She had won a heavy coat (surprisingly indoor), a sweater, a blouse, a T-Shirt and a bra. I had to dig through all these to reach my destination.
 
When my hands finally reached the twin towers, boy...it was the most beautiful satisfaction of the senses I had ever known...things seemed to be only superlative in my judgement. I fondled her, and she comfortably allowed me to suck them. It was just the best experience ever...I asked her in intoxication what next to do...as I was unbearably absorbed...I wanted her to enjoy to the fulness...I wanted to make her enjoy the fore-taste...I like beginning my meal with an appetizer that is teasingly long...it is my most cherished part of the meal as it gives me hope of the blessings yet to come! Before long, I discovered that I was placing ice on her nipples...and sucking them from there...that I was walking over her with my fingers, that I was gently rubbing her nipples with the palm of my hand and sucking the other...it was beyond her imagination...I loved seeing her pleasantly suffering...as she wreathed with pleasure, and calling me with all the nicknames she had learned I was bent to make her crazy with pleasure until such a time that she would invite me home...it was her privilege to direct me...to tell me when, to enjoy...my pleasure was the fact that I could drive her crazy with errotic fore-play...she groaned and mourned... (to be continued)

Barney

Emails

My friend decided that since I've got so much time in my hands, I will be the best person to edit her emails which happens to be about emails shared over some mysterious relationship with this guy she met online with whom she had temporarily fell in love with but never met in person eventually.
 
The task is purely benevolent and it took me almost a week to get down to it...and I made a mess of the first post thus, had to delete it, edit it afresh...on a French computer that I've never been able to acquint myself with wholly.
 
Anyway, hope you enjoy the posts...