The Boogey Man is Real

One month into the trip, our next tribe member – the one and only Zimbabawia – arrived!

It was our first evening together in Stone Town-Zanzibar, which coincidentally happened to be the weekend of the annual Stone Town music festival – Sauti za Busara. Typical. To avoid Zimbabawia’s jet-lag we prettied ourselves up, illegally bought some discounted tickets, and got amongst the live African music. It quickly became evident that Zimbabawia and Mamma Africa had something in common, a lust for locals. Whilst Mumma Africa and I shimmied our undersized buttocks to a wicked Algerian band, Zimbabawia shimmied her healthier sized booty towards a beautiful Rastaman.

Yep, Mumma Africa and I need not have moved to a larger room for for the three of us as Zimbabawia wasn’t present the following two nights.

In fact she had to throw stones at the window to be let back in each morning.

With Valentine’s day approaching we travelled from Stone Town to Nungwi, home of the clearest blue waters I have ever witnessed. It felt as though we were on a romantic holiday for three; cruising on a dhow, snorkelling, stuffing our faces and working on our summer glows.

When Valentine’s Day arrived, us single ladies decided to treat ourselves to an epic seafood banquet. This is my 7th year as a single lady and I like to make a point of enjoying singledum in style, whilst surrounded by my gal pals.

Fuck You consumerism – tryna make me feel bad about not having a permanent dick in my life, I’m gonna eat a butter drenched lobster.

After said lobster, I won’t lie, my street shitting episode had resided far enough back in my mind to allow me to feel sexy again. I was feeling ready to get some. We headed to a local bar and I decided to give island-tinder a go. I came across one of those profiles that is so manicured-model-esk that you can only laugh and wonder whether they are real. Swiping right, we matched. It seemed as if chizzled French Man was real, and he wanted a piece of this redhead.

Some back and forth messaging and a mere 30 minutes later, him and his too hot to handle chizzled jaw were walking into the bar.

Meanwhile, Zimbabawia’s Rastaman had seemingly done a Mr. Mount Kilimanjaro and followed us to Nungwi, as he also rocked up to the bar. African men hey!

Our little Valentines female trio had become two on a semi-double-date. Mumma Africa headed back to our vacant room to have finger-fun via messaging with Kilimanjaro.

Sir Chizzled and I bid Zimbabawia and Rastaman goodbye and strolled to a nearby club. Although I was loving looking at his face, I was finding the language barrier a real drainer. Before reaching the club, in his undeniably hot French accent, he asked if we could sit by the shoreline while he had a quick ciggy. Language barrier aside, I knew what an ‘out of sight shoreline’ really meant, and agreed.

We weren’t sitting long enough to say croissant, when he pounced on me like a pastry loving lion. He feasted on my clothes and had me naked almost instantly. It was good fun but it was all on fast forward, he was fingering me and I was giving him hand, when I suddenly remembered something that might make me soil myself again… Zanzibar is a strict Muslim Island, where tourists have been known to be arrested for undergoing such ‘acts’ as I was currently partaking in. I was going to be Samantha in Sex and the City:The Movie. I was about to voice my fear, when suddenly, my hand was wet with cum. I guess without realising, my stress of getting caught had transferred into my hand and I got the job done faster than anticipated.

We quickly de-sanded ourselves in the ocean and headed to the club. To my utter bewilderment the entrance was a wall of foam. Apparently we’d come to a frat party? I literally had to wade through a two metre high foam wall to reach the bar. My mate Sir Chizzled came through behind me and somewhere between the recent cum on my hands and the foam now encircling his face, I lost all interest in him for the night. There’s just something so un-sexy about a dude jizzing in your hands and not even attempting to make you cum.

I left the frat party alone.

The following day after telling the girls my tale I received a message from Sir Chizzled saying: ‘you want to hide under the water? I owe you an orgasm.’ He may have jumped the gun the previous night, but I’m a sucker for dirty talk, and yes I was owed an orgasm. Unfortunately, by the time he arrived, severe sunburn boiled on my body and so our ‘hiding under water’ literally meant me remaining in my long top, pants, and hat. My camouflage attire didn’t seem to bother him and he held me in the water like a child, a child whom you do dirty things too. Fingers quickly found their way past my floating garments and into my bathers. The clear blue Nungwi waters did not make our mischievousness subtle. I was really getting into the exhibitionism of the situation when I realised that Sir Chizzled had a huge ‘bat in the hanger,’ a giant booger. He kept fingering me and I tried to keep enjoying it, but I couldn’t avert my eye from this huge bogey making its way into his moustache. Just when I thought I should tell the guy he swiftly grabbed my hair and pulled me in for a pash. I was still floating in his arms and had no physical way of stopping the act, I succumbed to the situation and made out with him, and his little friend.

With the water no longer a sexy place I decided to change our scenery. We headed to my room, myself about 7kgs heavier from my wet garments, and met Zimbabawia. We hastily talked and she said that Rastaman and her were about to enter the room also, I asked if I could please take Sir Chizzled for the first shift because all I really wanted was to bang and say bye bye. The legend agreed and in we went. It truly was a great session. We started in the shower and he used all his chizzled body parts to hold me up and bang me at various precarious angles. We migrated to the bed and though I didn’t get my orgasm, my vagina was happily pounded and sent us both into a post sex coma.

We woke sometime later and in utter confusion, I asked Zimbabawia if we’d been long… two hours! I had well and truly over used my sex slot.

Ah well, payback pending, and I’m sure I’ll find a time soon to repay it, in this new privacy-less, sex, and travel life of ours.

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