Under the TV I adorned the biggest boner I have ever seen. It looked like it was supporting the tv on its own, trying to rip off the shorts. Since I was a commando with baggy shorts, it protruded and looked like Pinocchio’s nose after telling several lies. It stood like a jousting lance.
Shit!
I froze.
I pressed my thighs together, trying to hold the dingdong back in vain. Shit! What should I do? I panicked and almost threw the TV down.
(I might have dropped it, but,
with my sperminator
at that angle
it could never have fallen down)
Mohawk had walked two steps ahead of me. He stopped, looked back and asked
“Buddy, what is wrong?”
“Kuna shida, njoo kidogo,”
When he came near I whispered,
“I have an erection.”
He looked beneath the TV and then looked at me, while holding his laughter, he whispered,
“It looks like a rhino’s horn,
it looks angry too,”
After laughing for a while he added,
“I actually have a hard on too!
I am so horny.
What is happening?
You have no underwear?”
“No,
I don’t do undies on weekends.”
Here we were, two horny men, strangers to one another, each with throbbing hard on, confused in the CBD in broad daylight. His boner was not showing probably because he wore tight jeans, and most likely a pair of under pants.
“Quick!
Over there!
A Supermarket!”
He said, pointing ahead. Looking ahead, across Luthuli Avenue, I saw Ukwala Supermarket up ahead.
“What about it? What is the plan?”
I asked
“Let us go to Ukwala,
buy something that will restrain this bulges that we have.”
After hearing Mohawk's suggestion, I said,
“Great idea!”
We almost Usain-Bolted towards it. As we went into Ukwala, I left the TV at the entrance and ran into the supermarket, almost crouching. As I was walking in-between the ground floor isles, while I believed no one was looking, I quickly tucked my hand and shoved my D between my thighs. I started walking like a cripple since it was the only way I could walk.
(later on the camera angle would appear as if
I had stolen something and shoved it
in my shorts).
Anyone who has had a boner in public knows that the remedy is to pretend you are pocketing while pushing or holding down on the stick to cool it down and appear normal.
My short had no pockets. I had to walk like a cripple, looking for an attendant. Mohawk caught up with me.
“Nunua shoe laces ufunge nayo.
Boxers might not contain that atrocity,”
Mohawk said. I thought about it and agreed that it was a better idea.
“Shoe laces ziko floor gani?”
I asked an attendant standing by a staircase.
“We don’t sell shoe laces,
you have to buy shoes together with the laces,”
he answered. I turned to Mohawk,
“What do we do?”
Mohawk was quiet for a while, he seemed to be thinking of something, then he said,
“Nunua rubber band
ishikilie.”
This is one kid full of ideas! I thought. A rubber band sounded way better than a shoelace or underwear.
“Blada ziko floor gani?”
I asked the attendant.
“What?”
“Rubber bands ziko wapi?”
“2nd floor, at the stationery items section.”
‘Thank you,”
I ran up the stairs to the stationery section and found the rubber bands.
“Changing room iko wapi?”
I asked another attendant.
“3rd floor kwa nguo.”
😂
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