Weeeh!

Yesterday, when the night was dark as the skin of our brothers from Sudan, I decided to go riding my beast in order to drown my fucked up rejection because of petty lies to a potential computer scientist about him being the real OG in computer science. 

(Man I even told her I was part of the team that almost cyber robbed Equity bank at the start of the year)

So later, a my beast is fueled a whole 300 by another lady for the splendid "services" offered by it in an attempt to recollect my ego. Before I continue, let it be known that my wobbly beast rarely receives anything above shillings 70 worth of the precious fossil fuel from our Arabian brothers.

So the 300 hundred bob worth of the precious juice had to be reduced to manageable levels, and what better way than a late night ride to drown my loss and to kill the male demon that haunts me whispering to me softly, constantly reminding of the imagination of how great it would have been to split that girl to whom my lies back fired.

I am past bypass riding like demons from hell were right behind giving me a chase, or like Lewis Hamilton on the formula one track. Feeling the roar and hum of the beast’s engine as well as the roar of the exhaust as the it responded to my constant pull of the throttle.

Right there and then there was no better feeling, I tell you. The feeling is too real if a man is not careful he may find himself getting an orgasm. 

No wonder men of the past loved horses and the modern men love powerful engines.

I am way past bypass, drifting past Ruai but I think maybe I should head for Kamulu. Immediately I drift, depressing the clutch, engaging the second gear and the bike gets airborne as soon as I pull the throttle hard. I am riding hella fast like the ghost rider. I am having the time of my life when from afar I notice someone waving. I tap the rear brake a little, leave the throttle and the bike is back on the ground on both wheels. 

Immediately the wheels touch down, the headlight shines brightly on the yellowest and most curvy woman I have seen in quite a long time. 

“What could such fine meat be doing alone at this hour?”

I wondered as I slowly closed in one the distance between me and her. Perhaps she was thrown out by a boyfriend? Could she be lost, or have the gods finally decided to smile on me and compensate for the loss of rejection I suffered because of my stupid lies?

Well, I slowed down and decided that very night, I will eat that thing like there is no tomorrow. I may get a real orgasm after all. I stopped the bike next to the lady and man! Was she a fine bitch, wooo! 

Well, as I was about ask what's wrong, she started crying and almost hugged me. Now my member immediately shot up to full mast, but went down as soon as it came up when my street sense kicked in. 

My street days have always taught me that when it gets this easy, 

you could be paying for something dear too soon.

My street reflexes kicked by reflex but it was too late. Shit! That ka fine yellow yellow lady was a decoy, she was the trap to attract any oncoming motorist  or motorcyclist on that route for that matter. I was like the bird that had approached a boy's trap and I was in. Three men came out from nowhere, one with a machete, another, a bulky one came swinging a club, and another with an iron bar. 

Well, my street me couldn't lose my bike no matter how wobbly he is, and as by the time the club was almost on my head, all I remember seeing was my front wheel up, the engine roaring like mad and men scampering like rats to give way to this mad rider, who would never leave his iron partner behind. 

I am still healing bruises from the hit that almost broke my neck in two but who is laughing now? My iron beast is parked outside as the story unfolds.

Drumroll... 🥁

Story by Arafat.

#Letstoriesunfold™

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