*It’s no point stopping the inevitable* His hand on my thighs and the other on the steering wheel, At the same moment, the other hand softly separated her legs and began to slip up the old path that had so long not been taken that spin had nothing on my thoughts, they were craze , steamy, arousal and desire, a fire blazing. “Naughty girl, my naughty girl”, on he went, “ I want to touch you inappropriately, I have picked interest in you”. He asked me to touch it…in its mighty capacity for drowning , to quench the thirst in my mouth. It slithered in my hands..my fingers grip intact..I resisted how much I wanted it deep in my mouth like a delicacy of my own personal feast. He whispered in my face as he moved closer , he grabbed my wrist and guided it to his chest, past his heart, down, all the way down., My lips twitch, my heart said one thing, my mind said another and in that haze of confusion, I felt it. That firm but soft hand on my tender boobs. They were succulent and puffy from pms-ing. The combination of pain and ecstasy gave me chills down my spine. I was wobbling like jelly. He found my nipple and flicked his tongue back and forth until it went hard. His teeth softly encircled me, biting gently. I cried out. His teeth nibbed more insistently and his hand began to move towards my legs. He called it decorum. He said she had never met a person and shagged them the same day. He said however, that the innocent face wouldn’t fool him. He wouldn’t be beguiled by my enchanting soft spoken mourns of desire and resistance. I let him keep guessing 😜 He was charming, his articulation, his voice cut through my heart and stopped me in my tracks first time he called me, his eyes light up when his infectious laughter echoed the room. A devil -may -care outlook, he was a dazzler. I have never wanted and resisted someone so badly in my life. I let the naughty smile on my face win… I let the taste of his lips I devoured determine my next move. “I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.” ….. curious about the next page? Me as well … Let’s make poetry… Naughty girl 😉

My Mother’s child and the devil

   I have worshipped my mother’s child

Since birth and now

She has always been a keeper 

To her I bow

In all my life she feature 

But if she decides I am the devil now

Then be my guest.

I have lived in her shadow 

Her like a god and me

A servant

If I din have her, maybe

I wouldn’t be me

But if she decides I am the devil now

Then be my guest.

I have a reminder 

That dress, that top, those shoes.

Do you have anything of your own?

I have lived in her shadow 

Everything I am, it’s her.

Even the beast I turned to 

Why is it now a problem?

You are at the receiving end 

Of the beastly, tough, raggedy love

You always said to give

You built walls

Not to get through you

To protect yourself 

Which I agree to

But if she decides I am  the devil now 

Then be my guest.

Pleasure delayed… pleasures denied

Your man is hot and all…but have you met his friends???…lol I know. I fancy being picked up from work unless it’s a busy day and he’s cursing from the parking lot wondering why, Maamaaa, eight minutes later you are still in the office. Series of activities, phonecalls, kids by the door, all of them wanted attention. Mumbling and cursing, these ones don’t know which side of the mountains I had been facing, praying and begging God for such Romantic gestures..Mr man’s was impatient.

I picked my silhouette LV handbag and got out of my stilettos, maybe the four minutes walk would be quicker in flats. The double padded brallet was already sucking me up. I was yearning to just get into the car and unbutton my pants…I was happy I was finally going home …not alone.

Sashaying my way to the parking lot , huh we had company. You see these fine boys with unkempt hair, sleek jeans, fancy t-shirts, j4s, pierced ears, you know the kind that smiles at you and you look away because they are too good to be true. The kind that look like they couldn’t hurt a fly but will break your heart into four pieces. The boys whose uncle or aunt is a cs somewhere, kids who only know debauchery and fine mamaz…eish…Mr man’s came to pick me with the boys 🤭 Am sure he was showing off, he was trying to prove a point…makooosa….

Passenger princess pale…raggae music polite, tumblers are passed from the back and there’s no better way to end a long day. Mr mans introduced his hot friends and before I even mutter a word…he spoke my mind ..* najua huyo anakaa type yako kabisa… remember you asked me for his number, I decided to bring him in person*.
Gaddemit, just how free was I with this man ..I would honestly tell him when I thought his friends were hot and we never fought about it.
It was Valentine’s day the previous year before I got a job…on the very day I had attended a fruitless interview and he had picked me from that venue, took me to lunch, bought me flowers and paid my cab home . We had met the previous day in a club where my sister and I were enjoying nyama Choma. Kindness wins me over faster than money, and that was my best valentine ever.
Over time we hang out a few times and he meant something to me. He was the muscular, blatantly honest, hilarious, sexy kind of a guy, he was a bad boy, I was attracted to bad boys, I like me a man who can handle different feminine phases without chickening out. I like me a man who’ll shut you up as he pins you on the wall…
The boys he was in company of had nothing on him…
All these things are running in my mind when he opens the door for me, *babe we are home*
He helps me with my handbag and I usher the guests to my house. The boys need company and I , having no female friends wasn’t the best person to assist.
Charlie asked about how we met, it was exciting to think about. We may not talk all the time but I mentioned how he has many girlfriends and I was sure some of them had been my friends.
I leave the boys to their tales as I go to take a shower. I was just unbuttoning my chiffon top when the bedroom door opened slowly. I hesitated the undressing process as I turned to see who was at the door ..what happened to privacy?

He walked towards me slowly and I moved back abit. There was nowhere to move since I was standing next to the bed. There was zero distance between us …he leaned down to my ears and I let out a soft moan.
” Can I take a shower first? Your friends are in the next room, we can’t do this”
I muttered, helplessly, 🥵 he was whispering in my ears
“Babe, what do you mean I have dated your friends?, which one of them ?”
Somehow, I knew it was about to go down a rough road…
” Babe I was just joking…I’m sorry I know you haven’t been with any of my friends”
He moved his hands on my shoulders…down to my ass ..
“But that’s not what the boys think, you told them that I have banged your friends”
He pushed me on the bed…the look on his face meant business.. trust this man to always prove a point. He pulled my pants down violently. I tried to get up and he pinned me back, kissing my neck and holding my hands above my head.
   ” I’m sorry”
I said ..now amidst tears and pleasure..with one hand pinning me down, the other hand went down to my blue g string. He pulled it aside and rubbed a finger in…
    ” Babe staaki,,” I said…
“.and why are you already wet and moist”..

‘its because you are turning me on’

I tried to let him let me go but my thighs , my legs, my hands, hell, even my eyes were screaming in pleasure….
He unzipped his pants and pulled it, enormous in its greatest measure, curved and powerful slapped it on my lips…he did hit it in deep and rough asking me if that is how I think he screwed my friends.
No amount of apologies mattered at this point. He knew me too well…he knew when I was about to splash a fountain…I could feel it coming…I was screaming… dzaaaaazddy….when he stopped…zipped back his pants and left the room.
Men are the devil..or men are the devil’s.. or the devil is a man
..I was about to…..
“I know, he said…..” ‘ go shower up, and sue I wouldn’t fuck your friends, I like you better”

Sexy and criminal at the same time ..I just cursed him silently and pulled a towel. I went to the shower to cool down the heat.. in the next room, silence prevailing, only tumblers getting filled up. I lasted longer in the shower than he makes me last in bed.
When I walked out and put on an indoors dress and a cover up…it was evident in my eyes that I had been denied access . The boys saw it. Mr mans just sat there…proud and waiting, he knew it was coming …the moment I would beg him …to go back and finish what he started.
Trust me ….it never happened…not that I don’t beg, I would have, however, it saved me from having to turn my heavy mattress around….he had gotten his satisfaction and I had gotten my punishment for accusing him of being a fuck boy….

Jealous of the tension and orgasms hanging in the air, the boys demanded to leave and not even my fingers would help me finish …..

YOU DON’T WIPE DIRT WITH DIRT!

I finally felt it, the misery this thing was dragging me into. I finally realised I wasn’t even the second option. I was just a convenience. I was just illusioned to imagine that I actually mattered. And I wanted to free myself from this misery once and for all.

I knew you would never look for me, or call, or text first, of that I was sure. So I blocked you so I would stop waiting for a call, or a text. I blocked you so that I would never have to have that small talk with you, because it wouldn’t heal my heart, you apologizing that I was hurt. Not for hurting me.

That’s like leaving me in the forest and warning me to be wary of wolves. I hated that you did not at any moment acknowledge that I loved you…you subtracted yourself from my emotions, you were only conveniently with me, sometimes only when I complained, other times when you felt guilty, or obligated.

The whole of this time I believed my own version of the truth, the story that I made up in my mind that I forgot the real story. I believed in what looked like potential when it was just what I would have done if I were in your shoes.

I watched you love another woman on my face. No, that wasn’t love, her putting up with your bullshit wasn’t love, her being patient with you for whatever dumb reason wasn’t love, and you did not deserve it, I hope she got to realize that too.

You turned yourself completely ignorant of other people’s emotions, and we both stayed with you. We can’t blame you for staying in the fire hoping it burnt less. But love is deadlier than fire, twice the heat and ten times the destruction.

However, I have mastered the power of saying yes and no to myself, if I have the power to love, then I most certainly have the power to unlove. For love is not miserable.

The idea of you I had in my head was unreal. Nine months was a good distraction, I kept hoping that you would see me for the great woman that I am….but you are blind , so high up your own horse. .and I realize that now, 

I am not gon stay the same place where I got hurt hoping to be healed, because you don’t wipe dirt With dirt!!!

Nine months -BIRTH

I am tired, I am spent, I am exhausted, I give up. A decision long overdue. Nine months is a very short time…but long enough to create a little human being. Nine months is what it took me to get here, in this quagmire, in this confusion.

I’m tired that my heart and I agree to do one thing but it, without my consent goes on falling and drags me along with it. I don’t remember who I was nine months ago…maybe I was just an embryo or just a body of fluids but it’s time for the baby to come to life.

Love is a very ambiguous statement to define this feeling spiraling out of my body, my soul and my heart. I would call it desire, passion, elation, head over heels kind of a thing…to love another woman’s man… thrilling, ecstatic, the forbidden fruit tastes sweetest since time immemorial.

Break up and make up, pride, second thoughts, misjudgments. One day we were at it, happy, but short-lived, a heart always finds its way home. Out of obligation??? Who knows. We were sure of one thing. We both loved the late nights, the drinking sprees, the passionate strokes …I led him on…but to where???

What is this we were doing together???….9 months later…..

They say it’s better to have loved and lost than to have loved at all….

Last evening we went dancing and I broke your leg , forgive me , I was clumsy and I wanted to have you here in the Wards..where I am the doctor.

The, “I got it” Girl

Let us talk about the girl next door,

The girl next door from a small town in an un-flashy neighborhood. Her personality is down-to-earth, supportive, and approachable. For both her main boy and her culture at large, the girl next door embodies an idealized, wholesome femininity, the one who is always in her own mysterious cocoon. The girl with the sweet smile, the girl everyone thinks they know. The girl no one really knows. Calm and collected, but also an adventurous wild bunny. Obsessively independent, always saying, “thanks I gat it”…but really needy of some hand to hold…she never really got it.

An aura so blissful, magnetic that it attracts attention, creates interest, arouses curiosity, anxiety and all the mixed feelings in between… The perfect way to hide emotion is to smile…it is easier than explaining why you are sad. A heart big and genuine, always putting herself in the shoes of other people, the kind that leaves a mark. The girl you may leave but see forever in your heart. The girl next door.

The girl who decided pain was not a valid reason for stopping. Always looked like she had her shit together, always had something to say…she really did not like people..but when she talked, they listened…

She believes If you want to have the rainbow Then sometimes you are gonna have to deal with the rain. That she did, earnestly, diligently and bravely , sometimes hitting rocks and hard places. It’s been proven that the strongest act is being able to hold it together when you are nearly falling apart. Events at home, in the streets, at work,,these are the basis of a story.

It is so ironical that even as a writer, I could not find the words to write my story. But a lot often nowadays I have been writing my testimony….the end of the story …..the happy ending..the girl next door….

Never really got it

Once upon a hero

On this day, we stood here stuck…we had just witnessed a day we had known would come…but hadn’t anticipated it to have been so soon. Location is Kibugi funeral home. Whilst my sister had already embarked first born responsibilities, she was not only dumbfounded but also cold in heart, free of emotion…we had just seen the person who brought us to life..now lifeless.
The irony.
My late father used to refer to us as “ihy cia Wanjoki”
To mean Sons of Wanjoki. At this particular moment I was convincing my sister to board the hearse so we would go home and give my father the decent send off he knew we would give him. Actually, a month before he had died, we had buried his brother and it was in his funeral that my father, as he introduced us to distant relatives said…”Aya nio makathika Wanjoki”
To mean these are my sons..they will bury me”
Una Morgan Wanjoki’s stood there, wondering what to go home to…..One thing was for sure…father knew he had left his dynasty in safe hands..
In his one so many drunk escapades papi bragged to his fellow kinsmen about how he had sired great children,one of whom was live on national tv, he would drink and refuse to pay because he knew the bartender would tag the Wanjokis on Facebook and demand his pay, a trait UnaMorgan Njoki Wa Wanjoki seemed to have taken from her father….
The wooden bridge down the stream of Karie that you set up for me when I was going to nursery school on the other side of the hill 20 years ago remains as strong.as unshaken, as unmoved as our memories of you.

Days have gone by now, and the kingdom of Wanjoki still knows not how to mourn you father.
We believe we can turn out how you intended us
Keep watching over us daddy❤️

Snippets of the story

“Never settle for an ordinary lover, never settle for less than you deserve, you are so worthy of being loved so passionately and madly. …Your standards are not unachievable, they are just not in alignment with theirs and that’s just okay.

Remember to Remember that

The mystique of scents

He smelled of wet charcoal, of rain, he smelled hard and cool, tragic scent, he smelled of something that if chewed, it would have no mineral values but the aftertaste hang in there, like I did ..when I held onto him. I wore his scent, literally. The mistake of scents.

I am known to make pretty wrong choices. I could have fifteen options and like I have a magnet for damaged goods, I would still choose the chronic one. Actually whenever I have two things to choose from, I end up going for the one that wasn’t my first choice.. because my right has not always been right….

As wrong a choice as I made when I decided to try his fragrance. unaware that fragrances smell different on people. Did you know the word perfume comes from a latin word, *per fume” which means through smoke. This makes sense because the earliest perfumes were incense based or made from spices and herbs. From smoke, from hell… because this fragrance did not only develop and evolve on my skin,my clothes, my bathroom,it haunted me. With memories of cuddles, em showers razzmatazz, em good old days…it reminded me of the man that left me. The man that said, “sorry Ria, it’s not you, it’s me, I don’t think I can do this, I am damaged and I don’t want to hurt you”.

No Eli, you did not hurt me. In your next life, you are a Potter. For you took your chance to mould, to choreograph, to make another damaged human being…You have another offspring.The aftermath of the unseen, unforgettable accessory that is your perfume. It runs the world because everytime i wear it, the world stares, the world follows,unaware that the scent is just a powerful cocktail of damaged memories and emotions.

I give it away easily, like you did my heart. Love, attraction and desire to me feels like a flower without scent. To everyone that wooed me I introduced that scent, to remember that Roses smell nice but it’s the spinach that makes the juice. The world around me now smells the same, it tells your story.That nothing really ever changes.

They all smell like you☺️. This could be the strongest tie to memory …
so i do not have to run
or chase or fall
… to feel you

all i have to do
Is breathe

Xoxo

The mistake of scents.

KARIMI KIURA

Liberation

Bottled up and overwhelming

Emotions could mess up with your mental health.

Like fire they can consume you

Leave you breathless on the queue

In strive to achieve something that has never been true

Until your pale skin is blue

Until you lose your crew

Until you realize love has never been true

Until you are liberated of attachments

……..of attraction

…….of desire

Until you have lost the touch

Until you are detached

Until you decide to write your own script

Until you choose how you want to feel

Until you choose yourself

Liberation !!!!!