Tales Of Etemesi

A night with sugar mummy

They say somewhere in the psyches of all young men is the desire to have a night-long sexual encounter with an older woman. Some see their friend’s mothers and they want to smash.
Some see their bosses and they want to smash. So what is that special kernel that is just so alluring about the ever-intriguing ‘sugar mama’? That’s something I found out for myself.
But why is the sugar mummy so eager to bed men younger than her?
Before I even got to meet a sugar mummy, I knew perfectly why they do what they do. A woman in her mid-30s or later has it all. She’s mature. She has traveled, she has a good career, she’s gone through many experiences. She only lacks one thing- sexual fulfillment.
Do older men like having sex? Of course they do. However, they don’t have the stamina or high levels of testosterone that they used to have back in the day. Her men are constantly battling with dissipating energy levels, erectile dysfunction, and the stress that comes with aging, family, money, and work. So the importance and prevalence of sex in their life simply drops off. And even if they do go for it, they focus on the younger naive female who’s angry for money and success
And for some women, that’s perfectly fine. Their sex drives begin to drop as well, and they happily progress and accept the lower frequency — and even quality – of sex with the man they are with. However… this is not always the case.
Some women maintain really high sex drives and want their man to be able to give them a wild and crazy experience multiple times a day. Or at least once a day — at the very least. And every man knows that if a woman is not getting what she needs… then she’ll have no compunction with going and finding it somewhere else
And in the case of the sugar mummy, that’s exactly where the younger guy comes in. Cougars thirst for the virility, energy, and sex drives of younger men. They believe that these men will give them a better sexual experience – like the ones they used to have 5 or 10 years ago.
That’s why my experience didn’t come as a surprise..............
It was just another boring Thursday morning at work. I had a slight headache so consequently, I bore no desire to do a thing. I dozed off for a few minutes before the dim steel-like Nairobi sun prised open my eyes like a crowbar working open recalcitrant rusted lids. I decided to check out my e-mail. It had been 2 days since I last logged into my Gmail account, That wasn’t because I didn’t want to. Neither was it because of laziness. It was simply because I never get any important mail when I keep checking all the time. Important mails only come through after a log in hiatus. Only the gods could explain that.
It found an invitation to a wine-tasting gala for a new brand that was in town. It had been sent 24 hours prior to my log in. I loved such functions since i always got to make life-changing industry connections. I was definitely in
8 pm in the evening and I was already at the venue, eyes wandering the glamorous setting searching for a familiar face. I saw none. But then there was someone. She stood out because she was pretty and alone. I watched her from far. She slid her spectacles over her small circle of a nose as she shook the wine glass and lingered to the taste.A true connoisseur perhaps? She then took a moment to smooth her red skirt and adjust her breasts in her white camisole top. She had a thick body and her face appeared full of youthful delight. I continued staring without a blink.
Then she turned and saw me staring in her direction. She twitched a little as her eyes scanned me from my godfather hat to my shoes. Confidently, i lifted a hand in the air in greeting and she lifted one in acknowledgement with a smirk i could see from that distance. She was alone and I knew I had to walk over and start a conversation. There were plenty of people in the room, all mingling in murmurs but this mysterious angel remained quiet
As I made my James Bond-ish approach, she waited calmly as if she was expecting me all along. Her left hand clandestinely traveled to the hem of her skirt and carefully scratched her hip, exposing more of her creamy flesh. She appeared welcoming yet so sophisticated. I was far from sure how she would react to my invasion of her space. My heart pounded with libidinous awakening, my eyes greedily devoured the shaking of her flesh muscles and the provocative gyration of their packages.
“Hi” I said.
“Etemesi right?” She didn’t ‘hi ‘ back. She just confirmed my identity
“Yes, that’s right. So you know me huh?”
“Who doesn’t? I read your articles. Sometimes I think you are amazing. Sometimes I think you are an idiot. Glad to finally meet the Keyboard Terrorist.” She responded with a mixed review of my persona.
The conversation started off better than I had expected. Her articulate speech and choice of words were the perfect characteristics of a smart woman. I learned later on that she worked as a HR executive for a popular communications firm. She was probably introverted.. She hadn’t mingled with anyone else that night She wasn’t intending to, until I came along. At first, she only offered one-word answers but then she began to open up
As we delved into deep intellectual conversations, my eyes failed to stay disciplined. They lingered into places they didn’t belong – her cleavage, her legs, her wondrous hips. She was all to magnificently formed and I was tempted to tell her. Thoughts of inappropriateness held me back though. She had a ring on her finger.
For two hours straight, we talked about her career and her marriage. She was looking for divorce. The inability to have a kid had caused tension between her and her husband. Seeing how sad her personal life was, I decided to at least tilt the conversation back to her career
“So what do want to do in future Jennifer?” She had told me her name in the latter stages of our conversation.
“I don’t know about the future but right now I just wanna be in bed with a real man. I haven’t had sex in 3 months” she purred details that i hadn't asked for.
shugaaaaa4
“”Hmmmm.…sorry about that” I responded, rather unsure what to say
“Even with someone as charming as you.”, she added
“What?”
“You heard that right, Philip,” she repeated, before sliding her hand across the tabletop to casually rest on mine.
“I need some fun, please don’t deny it top me,” she cooed.
She was literally begging now
“What do you have in mind?” I shot back, unable to resist her offerings
“I‟d rather show you what I do than tell you about it. Let me take you to a place where we can be alone. Okay?”
Instantly, I knew was on to something. This was going to be the easiest chips funga ever. I hadn't smashed in two weeks myself and that was one hell of a long time. My eyes opened wider, pupils dilating, as i nodded my interest.
“Sounds good to me. Got a place in mind?”
Jennifer smiled with closed lips. “I know the perfect place!” She leaned forward and whispered . She flashed her best smile and winked, playfully. “You‟ll love it. C‟mon,,” she said, grabbing my hand and leading me briskly back to her car shamelessly.
Jennifer guided her hot red Mitsubishi through thick traffic before stopping outside a stylish tall building. . She parked directly in front of a stylishly lighted marquee framing a modest neon sign proclaiming, “Members and Guests Only.”
She could see me sizing up the storefront and wondering exactly what kind of place it was. She got out of the car and led the way in, I in tow.
“Hi there,” she said to the clerk behind the lobby counter, a gray-haired sixtyish woman of modest build. “We‟d like a room, please,” she said, stretching out her hand and presenting her membership card.
The clerk examined the card and punched her computer keyboard. “What‟s the name?”
“Jennifer,” she answered with a smile.
“The clerk checked the name. “Jennifer,” you say?”
“That would be me,” Jennifer answered with a smile.
“And your guest?”
“Got your ID, Philip? She needs to see your driver‟s license. You‟ve gotta be age-of-consent to get in here.”
Ignorant of the goings on but offering no objection, I produced my ID and handed it to the clerk.
“Basic two hours?” the clerk asked.
“That‟ll be fine,” Jennifer answered, presenting her credit card. “Is Room 7 available?”
“Room 7 it is,” the clerk replied.
She then turned to me and said. “Follow me, .”
sugaaaaaaa
At the buzz of an electric lock on a doorway marked “Members Only,” she opened the door and led me down a corridor lined with six doors on the left and six doors on the right, with one door angled at each far corner of the hallway.
“We‟ve got Room 7,” she informed me, leading the way with a brisk walk to ward off any questions from the somewhat bewildered me. Any questions I might have heard wouldn’t have been heard, anyway, above the loud, club-rhythm dance music blasting out through in-ceiling speakers.
“In here,” she said, opening the door to Room 7 and leading the way into an odd-shaped room perhaps ten feet deep in the corner, six feet wide at the entrance and ten feet across at the rear wall. Jennifer clicked on a strobe-flashing overhead red light as we entered
The floor was covered with plain maroon wall-to-wall carpeting, in the middle of which stood what looked much like a medical doctor‟s examination table but stood only two feet or so off the floor. One end of the table was outfitted with a modest headrest. Midway down the table and on each side was positioned an arm-like lever with a foot-wide curved bracket attached.
Jennifer moved to the back end of the room which contained a wet bar sink and counter with small cabinet doors underneath. “Let‟s have a little shot of Limoncello to warm our stomachs,” she suggested, pulling out a bottle and two small shot glasses from the cabinet.
“A shot of what?”
“Limoncello. It‟s a lemon-flavored Italian drink with quite a kick to it.” She clarified before handing me a filled glass and held her own up to mine. “Cheers!” she said, and downed the shot with one quick gulp.
“Cheers!” i said, gulping down my own shot. “Whew! That‟s good stuff all right.” I paused, looking around the room.
“One more,” she said, refilling each of our glasses.
“Cheers!” we announced with a grin, clicking glasses and gulping down in unison.
“What, now?” I asked, blowing out the Limoncello heat from his stomach.
“Now, I‟m gonna show you what a cougar all about, Philip,” Jennifer purred, moving close to me and sliding her arms around my neck. She was eager to prove a point
“You are a cougar?” I asked
“Yes I am 38 years old.s, do you mind?'
I hadn’t spent much time approximating her age. I thought her year ranged from 25-28. How wrong i was. That wasn’t meant to deter me. As if to prevent me from asking more questions. She descended on my mouth with kisses. I gripped her butt, savoring their mighty surface area. She began taking off her clothes and kicking off shoes like a woman possesed. Then she took off my coat then proceeded to tear off my shirt. I was kinda annoyed but before i could vent my fury. Her phone started ringing
“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you another one tomorrow. Let me take this call. It’s my husband’s best friend”, she reassured me. Before going on to put her call on loudspeaker.
The man at the other end barked. His voice was disturbingly familiar
“Oti anakutafuta but hakupati”
“M show ntakua home in 3 hours” . She responded rudely before hanging up
I was sure I had heard that voice before. It was my elder brother’s. So I asked Jennifer what the name of the guy was just to confirm. It was indeed my brother? How did they know each other? It turned out that the same Oti mentioned was the same Oti I knew as my brother’s best friend. We had eaten nyama choma together several times but I had never met his wife. After a few more queries I further confirmed that the Jennifer that was naked in front of me was the wife of my brother's friend Oti.