encounter
story by Mad Max...
SHAMBA BOY
DISCLAIMER: All characters, locations and events are fictional. Or are they?
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This is a story of how I explored my sexuality and its edges and borders where the black and white meld into grey.
Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Max, 26 and your average guy with a crazy sex life. You may remember me from my infamous ordeals with Ash, the high school stud with the body of an ancient Greek warrior, and Lem, my village friend turned fuck buddy.
Bisexuality is tricky, but with girls acting like their cunts are gold plated, guys can make do in satisfying pressured balls and leaking cocks.
After my humanitarian studies, and taking a (sex filled) break back home, I decided to move to Western Kenya to work under an NGO based in Kakamega. It was situated at the mzungu owner's house which he had partly renovated to create office space which I shared with three of my workmates; Marie, Ben and Job.
Kakamega is hot and boring, I have to admit. My only salvation came in the fact that my workmates were, you could say, linked to the elite. Marie had a really cool bungalow situated outside the town where we'd go have movie nights and bitchfests about work over vodka-laced black tea.
Job, Ben and I would often joke about how her compound was always neat, yet we could tell her well manicured hands had never touched any gardening tool. "Fuck y'all," was her response, flashing her brightly painted middle finger at us over her teacup.
"Yeah, who'd you fuck to do your garden, bitch?" Job once quipped back.
"Definitely not your matchstick dick."
"Oooh, not cool," Ben hollered as I stifled my laughing.
"Seriously though, who does the work for you, Marie?" I asked after the ranting ended.
She sipped at her tea. "Well, my dad used to work here, so he knows a guy who used to do the landscaping at his office grounds." She set down her cup. "Turns out the guy died, but his son took over the business. So we linked up, and he's here Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays to make sure my place looks good for you piles of shit."
"So, d'you fuck him?" Job, who couldn't keep his spare asshole from spewing shit.
"Have I fucked you?" Marie arched an eyebrow.
"Come on, Marie. We all know since you and Kris broke up, your cooch's been gathering cobwebs."
"Also," Ben jibed in, "how can you not fall for the legendary charm of a brazza?"
Marie frowned. "One, he's a shaba boy for fuck's sake. Two, I can't imagine me getting some sweaty ass, stanky dick in my vagene."
"How'd you know it was stanky?" Job ducked as Marie tossed a coaster at him.
"You know what? We'll meet him tomorrow. Thank God it's Friday, we get off work early. We'll come, watch some Marvel and hypothesise on theories as y'all see him working outside."
"Ok, miss fire cunt. Though I bet that he has another flower garden to work on." Job got up to refill his cup, a litany of curses following him.
Crazy fuckers, I mused, turning my attention back to the TV screen, but my mind was elsewhere. Why was Marie so disgusted by the gardener? I chuckled, remembering how girls in high school would be revolted by Ash, but he had gifts to make up for his lack of facial attractiveness.
My gaymeter was on an all time high, spinning into the region of 'prove Marie wrong'. I sat back and sipped at my tea, watching the Avengers fight back Thanos. Friday would be interesting. I hoped.