Opinion | Jun 20, 2018

Essay: Life misused - Part 4

For some time husband and wife did not have sex together. His spirit was feeling something between them was not right. Her behavior towards him was no longer attentive, tender or caring; as if she was living in a different world. Phone calls would reach the house and he would pick it, the very same moment the caller would hang up. Nearly every day this would happen and make him angry. To dial a wrong number, no problem, but hanging up with no explanations was making him going mad each time. Years later he would find out his wife had made phone calls with her boy-friend at nights for hours while he was sleeping peacefully in their marriage bed.

She was looking at her husband before the sun was coming out him sleeping calmly and so innocent. Her mind was telling her she had to stimulate him to have sex with her in case she got pregnant, no one, not him, not her boy-friend should know who the real father of the child to be born would be; the power over her destiny should only lay in her hands, and her hands alone.

After a long, good breakfast that he had prepared for her, she suggested to him to go to the Stadtpark, a park not far from the house he was once born in and had lived until embarking on his journey to live his real life in England. He agreed for the time after lunch on a sunny Sunday afternoon as it was time for him to attend church service in Rissen as usual. She had entered Germany as a Christian, had asked him to buy her a Bible in English language and he did. Both had attended together Black and White churches, but he had observed her interest to read in the Holy Scriptures vanished more and more each day. He had not been able to motivate her to attend church even for Easter or Christmas, very unusual for a woman that by her own accounts was sitting in her village in Kenya on the football pitch praying to GOD for her salvation, to give her a better life with a caring husband somewhere outside the country to take care of her and in return, she would be a very good wife to him. Tears had run down her chicks when she had prayed lonely on the field late at nights.

They walked along the Planetarium, an impressive building at the north end of the Stadtpark close to the Jahn Sporting grounds. Not far was the areal where at nights Homosexuals would gather looking for the right man to use for their sexual desires leaving used condoms full of sperm behind between the bushes and trees that gave them the impression of privacy.

All the way walking from the pond of the dugs close to the high rise buildings of the City North with Shell and Exxon headquarters passing the pond with playground for kids to enjoy and crossing the gigantic lawn used by many nations to enjoy a day off, she had hold his hands and made and spoken words of love, of tenderness and affection.

He was moved by her loving care she was performing and felt like the first night in Hotel Marble Arch, room 216 in Nairobi opposite Nakumatt in which they had bought their food for the night always and breakfast for the mornings. After his arrival and them checking into their room, they had gotten naked and his dick had found the way into her wet pussy with no hesitation or time delay. It was a clear sign for him that from now on she would be his, taking her into his procession and making sure she would be secured and the feeling of togetherness after years of being without a woman by his side. For her it had been lust to see how a white man is performing and the answer to all her prayers on the football field, her way out of her misery into a country of milk and honey.

He was feeling how his dick was growing and sperm fluid would wet his panty, while she was feeling her panty getting wet and her chest moving up and down. In her bra her harder getting nipples would rub along the textile and tickle her more and more. Her mind was blowing away; she needed him now, that very moment. With hungry eyes did she look at him wanting an answer, a solution to her situation.

He looked around checking the surrounding and thinking of possibilities to be one with her, enjoying the moment. In front he saw the old building constructed with red stones in which afternoons old people from the nearby homes of old people would gather for playing games and eat cakes and drink coffee.

He looked around; his eyes did not see people passing by. Taking heart, he pushed his wife under high trees with low hanging branches and many green leaves to give them protection from possible people passing by seeing and hearing them.

She pulled down her jeans and panty, he opened his sipper, loosening he belt, dropped down his jeans to the ground; both stood naked before a giant tree. He pushed her over to hold herself tied to the tree while he was grabbing her waist from behind, making her stand in the right position for his dick to enter her wet pussy. He pushed his dick with one forceful stroke right into her making her understand and feel, he needed her and she was all his. The moment he had reached her womb deep down her tiny body, he stopped for a moment to enjoy the second of being together with her again. Over years he had learnt not like Africans to move fast in and out with deep and heavy breath, that was not for him, but to control himself, stay in a woman as long as possible, feel her excitement, feel how she gets wetter and wetter by any stroke of his dick, how her nipples would be hard to burst, her breast would be hard to cry for mercy on her.

He was looking sideways hearing voices of people passing by, but was relaxed realizing they neither did nor hear them under the cover of the trees. Than with a forceful, heavy stroke of his dick, he

To be continued

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