A dozen raindrops splatters on the Uber’s windscreen as I gaze straight ahead. I am seated at the back- right, and her on my left. Our driver Ted is a young gent probably in his late 20s who talks a tad much. Normally, I’d engage him but today is just not the day to indulge in politics and current affairs with a total stranger who for all I know might be sent into shock by my weird sense of humour and ram into a street lamp.

Okay, the truth? I fail to indulge him because she has her right hand on my zipper. With my sweat shirt meticulously placed on my lap to conceal her mischief, she tags on the zipper and slides it all the way down. All this time I try maintaining my blank stare just in case Ted turns to check on us for the hundredth time. We are now on Uhuru Highway. The traffic is unusually light for a rainy evening.

“Baby I want to lay down” she coos. “My feet are killing me

“We barely have enough space for that behind” I tease her. “Where do we get room for you to lay down?”

Ted chuckles.

“Idiot”

“Your idiot”

“Yes! My idiot” she replies, leaning in close enough for me to feel her breath on my left ear lobe as her rogue hand homes in on the dong!

*gasp*

“Are you okay bro?” Ted asks, somewhat concerned as he peeks at us via the rear view mirror.

“Yeah man. I’m good. I just realised I left my home keys at work”

“Ah! Usitense. Huwezi kosa place ya kulala” he continues, with a very impish smirk on his face. Clever bastard! He already knows what’s happening in his car’s backseat.

Meanwhile, there’s so much fondling downtown and I can already feel the stiffy kicking in. I am somewhat surprised that she can do all that with a straight face and zero visible commotion beneath the sweatshirt. Poor sweat shirt.

“Ebu kaa poa” she orders as her left hand joins her right, only that it goes for my belt. Oh boy! She only uses that tone when it’s about to go down. She knows how much I hate being ordered but she keeps doing it. And I like it. Twisted, right?

So she undoes my belt as I move to the farthest end of the seat. Ted notices the unbuckling, smiles then tilts the rear view mirror upwards. He’s had enough. Or maybe he just want to get us to our destination safe and sound. Safe for her, sound for me. If you know what I mean.

As soon as I ease back on the seat, she dives headfast onto my lap and covers herself with the sweatshirt.

“Ted tupeleke pole pole ndio nilale kiasi” she says, her voice muffled by the sweatshirt.

“Sawa madam” comes the reply.

But she is not listening. Because she is having a serious conversation with my spheroids, accusing them of staying away from her for so long. This woman!

We exit Uhuru Highway onto Langata Road. The traffic, slightly dense.

I lay back with my eyes closed and my lips tightly clumped together lest I let out some primal sounds. Sounds that are not so pleasing considering how ear-unfriendly my voice is! But she is not making it any…

“Dammit!” I swear internally as she takes me into her mouth. That, I did not see coming. Her tender lips engulfing me and her tongue tickling the glans make my toes curl in my shoes. 32,532,462,956 shivers run down my spine as I get goosebumps instantaneously. She notices it and keeps going. See, she is madly in love with the idea of giving me a hard time (pun unintended) and every time she has the opportunity she grabs it. Too much pun. But you get what I’m saying, right?

She works the “sluice” up and down with her lips while gently petting my already swollen orbs. It’s been a while since they got offloaded. And there she is playing go-down!

I can feel and eruption building up and from my increased breathing rate, so can she. Ted slides a window down slightly. He probably thinks I’m having respiratory issues.

“Usikufie kwa gari yangu mjamaa”, he says amidst his signature chuckle as we go past KRA estate towards Magadi Road.

“Hahaha! Easy man. If I’ll die it’ll be because you rammed into a stalled trailer!” I hit back feigning sobriety. I am under the influence of something more lethal than Russian Vodka. It’s already getting to my head. Okay, pardon the pun.

I do quick mental calculations and I can tell I’ll be messing up these seat covers in approximately 15.768 seconds. But that’s not how I was raised. So I grab Miss. Chevious and pull her away. She resists but I cannot manage spilling seed in an Uber. So she swallows her pride, sadly, and ceases. I sigh in relief.

              ***TO BE CONTINUED***