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My name is Kulia Beatrice. I am enjoying my second marriage so much I can’t begin to tell you, but I will still try. I first met this delicious man many years ago while I was married to my first husband with whom I had 4 children. My best friend, Bwowa Suzanne had met a “nice young man” who was going to marry her and she asked me to be her best maid. As her “elder sister” I immediately agreed.
One Sunday afternoon after we had been to church Suzanne came by our house accompanied by her young man. Tall, dark and bespectacled, Ssentongo Thomas was employed at one of the foreign-owned banks in the City. He spoke in accents of one who had gone to the best schools in the land, the likes of King’s College, Buddo where only the very rich could afford to take their sons. I felt a stab of jealousy for my younger friend, marrying an obviously much wealthier man, and so well brought-up. My children seemed to like him a lot too.
The wedding was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. The groom and his best man were dressed in brilliant white double-breasted jackets, black bow-ties, with trousers in a pale blue. The other groomsmen had suits in a lighter shade of the same blue. The maids’ clothes had been brought in from the UK by one of the groom’s sisters; a light grey, with what Suzanne told me was a sailor’s neckline. Neither of us had ever seen a sailor in real life and we thought it was all very high-flown. Even the invitation cards were the first I had ever seen that were not sent in an envelope, but folded in on themselves.
They first built a 3-room wooden house, which elicited a slight stab of envy in me. We lived in a rented 2-bedroom house without hope of our own house, no matter how small. When they started putting up a stone house only 3 years into their marriage, I could not help but start nagging my husband about building us a house. In my heart of hearts however, I knew it would hardly come to be, what with his irregular income from driving a taxi between the city and the southern town of Masaka 160 km away and my own meagre teacher’s salary.
Thomas had a way of looking at me whenever we met that made me weak in the knees. I would chide myself afterwards that he was my best friend’s husband and I was moreover a married woman. The next time we visited them, or they us, it would happen again. He would seem to fondle my large breasts with his eyes and when his eyes met mine electricity would spark. I found myself always sitting across from him and the most unusual desire overtake me to part my legs just a bit for him to see more of my thighs. I could never understand what he was doing to me to give me such thoughts or desires. All night I would lie in my bed trying to chase those memories from my head, yet at the same time enjoying them and the frisson of fear should my husband beside me ever think I was indulging in fantasies about another man.
It was only a matter if time before these feelings erupted, tying the two of us in knots. Suzanne’s class went on a school trip at Murchison’s Falls about 100km from the city. Her husband called me on the Wednesday before the trip to invite me to have lunch with him on Saturday at the Hub. Afterwards we could go wherever we liked.
My heart was fluttering and I felt like I couldn’t breath. “You know that is my washing day, Thomas!” I demurred.
That was my first mistake. “So is Suzanne’s!” he shot back. “What she will do about her washing and cleaning, you can also, can’t you?”
I sought an answer to this and failed miserably. He must have heard it in my hesitating, faltering voice. “She has a housemaid.”
“Don’t you also? Come to The Hub at 11:30. I will be waiting at the Four Seasons.” And he disconnected the call.
I looked at my phone for long moments. It was true Thomas was younger than I, yet he affected me in a way I had never experienced before. But I was so afraid of my husband finding out anything, or scandal hitting the staff room if Suzanne got wind of what I was about to do.
‘But what am I about to do? Lunch? He has not said anything more than that.’ I chided myself. I spent the evening in a confusion.
“Did you intend for us to eat with our hands today?” my husband asked gently, when I thought I had served supper.
“Oh, I am sorry. Here are the spoons.” I could only trust myself to make a simple meal in my scattered frame of mind.
Thursday and Friday passed in a haze for me. Several times the other teachers caught me in a daydream, like a little girl looking forward to her first date. In a way it was, for Brian had not taken me out since our first-born girl had come so many years ago.
On Friday, I overheard Suzanne tell someone in the staff room how she was going to wash her husband’s shirts and her own better garments that evening, just as I was planning.
“I want to do th…” I wanted to finish, “…that too,” before I caught myself. The others looked at me briefly before resuming their excited talk of the upcoming trip and how much fun they were going to have all weekend.
Normally kaçak iddaa I would have felt a stab of something, but butterflies were playing in my stomach instead. Something would happen tomorrow that would forever change my life.
I arrived at The Hub exactly ten minutes before the appointed time. I caught Thomas just coming from his car, but pretended not to have seen him, hurrying into the restaurant. I passed The Bistro, and Haandi, the Indian restaurant. Why didn’t he choose any of these, instead of the one furthest from the entrance, I wondered. I entered Four Seasons and as I looked around for someone to seat me, Thomas walked in and I witnessed how the head waiter rushed to him.
“She is with me,” he told that waiter.
“Please come with me,” he told both of us. Thomas put his arm around me and his hand lay on my waist. Currents of electricity shot all through me. ‘How long is it since I was held like that way,’ I wondered.
We were shown to a table right up against a large window. As the waiter left to bring us the menus, Thomas pulled me into a hug that caused the needles on my body’s meters to fluctuate wildly. “How are you Betty?”
Who had last called me by a pet name? “I am very fine Tom!” I croaked, my throat dry. He pulled a chair for me and seated me before he went round to take his own seat. The waiter arrived with the menus.
“Could you get us a pot of tea, with two samosa for me?” He shifted his eyes to me.
“I will have a doughnut and two sausages, please!” I told the waiter. He was about to leave with the menus but Tom stopped him.
“We will order lunch for 12:30.”
He left to bring the tea.
Tom looked at me with such warmth in his eyes. “How is the home front?”
“We are very well. As usual Baba Ciku left at dawn. I thank God every time he comes back in the evening. That road is so dangerous.”
Tom replied that he knew my husband to be a very careful driver. In fact I knew that instead of four trips a day he did three, saying they are enough. Let the young men race their vehicles, if that is what suits them.
We took our refreshments while choosing the meal we would take for lunch. He told me of his work at the bank and how it was always like walking a tightrope.
“Why is that?” I asked.
“There is always the chance that an innocent-looking transaction is a front for fraud. In fact last week a huge one took place. A customer’s account was pumped up with funds by machine. The owner came to the Bank on set days to make withdrawals. As soon as the internal fraud was discovered no more withdrawals were made. In fact the man had absconded work at the hotel he worked at. So he must have had an accomplice in the bank. The security officer is still trying to find out who it could have been. The four of us who operate the accounting machines that maintain accounts were the first suspects. I do not know whether they have figured out who was responsible.”
“I thought dealing with children was especially hard work! Yours sounds very risky. You could end up in jail through no fault of your own.”
“That’s what I mean, darling!” He ran his hand along my thigh, almost causing me to spill my tea all over my clothes.
“It won’t happen to you!” I declared forcefully.
He was fondling my thigh softly, and only helping to scramble my thoughts.
The waiter came for our lunch order. We gave him our choices and he withdrew.
As we finished our lunch, he told me simply that we would go to the Shade Hotel a few kilometres from the Hub. This shocked me to the core. My body wanted him more than I could say, but I was frightened. He laid his hand on my thigh again. He did not say anything, just looked kindly at me. Then he broke the spell by signaling the waiter for the bill. He paid with his credit card.
“Aren’t you scared of someone seeing me in your car?”
“It is not mine.” Indeed at a second look I realised that although it had looked grey, I had not noticed that it was a different car, and was actually silver. “I do not blame you for not picking up on those small differences. It was very intentional on my part. If my wife saw it she would not tell it from mine. But my friend is driving the one you know, while I took his. He lives in this area so it is a common sight around here.”
My brain processed this information. This car would not cause any second look from anybody, while its windows were darkened in such a way that nobody would recognise me from a distance. We pulled out of the parking lot. At the Shade he parked at a open place.
“Hiding in plain sight,” he said to my questioning look.
He motioned me to the nearest entrance while he took the other, near the corner. I walked down a corridor with doors painted a dark green in brown walls. Why such a dull colour scheme, I wondered. Suddenly he was beckoning from a doorway round the corner. Instead going to the corner I simply cut across the grass and joined him. He shut the door and declared us safe. I could feel a slight trembling kaçak bahis in my knees from an outflow of adrenaline. He pulled me into another of his delicious hugs, this time kissing me full in the lips. I do not know why this shocked me as I should have expected this and more.
Expertly he removed both his and my clothes so that we stood in our underwear. He embraced me, running his hands all over my body, lifting my boobs inside the bra, licking the bra, fondling my waist and hips. He was driving me higher and higher. Then he held my head in his palms and looked into my soul (or what felt very like it). He kissed me softly in the lips, lingering there. I almost cried from the flood of emotion.
Then he pushed my lips apart and thrust his tongue into my mouth, making me delirious with joy. He sucked me and let his tongue rove into my mouth, playing tag with mine. He lay me onto the soft bed without letting go of me. His hand was on my stomach palpitating. It went behind and expertly unclasped my bra, quite as if he had been the one to dress me. I drew my shoulders together as the bra slipped off, exposing my boobs to his eyes. I feared he would think they have drooped too much from childbearing. Instead I felt the warmth of his breath just before his lips landed on my flesh.
“Oh my gawd!” I was unable to prevent myself screaming. Fire rushed though my boobs, shot through to my pussy, and I felt some fluid shoot onto my panty. ‘I hope he does not see that emission and take for a loose woman!’ I thought.
He sucked one nipple into his mouth, tickling it with his tongue. ‘My, my! What is he doing to me? He will make me run mad!’ His fingers were twiddling the other nipple, and I didn’t know where I was any longer. That hand went back to my tummy and went further south to touch my privates. I stiffened at that thought. He went on until he covered my vagina with his palm. Then I felt him squeeze me there! He kept up the sucking of my boobs all this time.
Next he grabbed the elastic of my panty and tugged down. I brought my legs together and lifted my bums off the bed to allow him take it off. Now I was lying naked to the open air and to a stranger’s eyes. He cupped my vagina again, with one finger lying along my slit. He moved it up and down my slit, slowly opening my lips. I twitched. Surely he would find my wet cunt and think me a wanton woman! Soon I felt him sliding on my wetness I had never felt that in my whole life! Now his digit was worming itself into me. Instead of revulsion at this intrusion, my body eagerly rose to meet his finger. Then he was fucking me; his finger plunging into my depths and drawing out again. My hips danced to that rhythm all without instruction from me.
His mouth decamped from boob to mouth, kissing me voraciously. This toppled me over the edge. My back stiffened, my leg muscles tightened around his hand, and my throat released an eerie sound I had never heard anywhere else. Then my cunt clenched and spat a jet of fluid all over his hand. He exulted, “Well come, my darling!”
I felt his body move onto mine, with his digit still inside. With barely a pause, he replaced his finger with his cock. This was so much more filling. I yelled into the room, “Take me, finally after all these years of desiring each other!” He slid in slowly, painfully slowly. I felt him so far inside me I thought I had never been that well fucked. He looked at me in that warm, kindly way. Then he started thrusting his cock inside me. I had only ever fantasised about this moment, but I now had it live! How much better was the real thing than any fantasy. He fucked me so insistently and so long that I came three more times before he relented.
“Its not that I am tired or that I have had enough!” he threatened me. I could barely imagine another session like that one! I would die, I felt sure.
We fell into a light slumber (for him, not for me. I slept like the dead). He woke me up after what seemed to be a few minutes. The first thing I realised was that his tongue was in my mouth. When did I ever wake up to a kiss? Never! He explored my teeth, our tongues danced with each other. My hand went for his cock, making a tunnel with my fingers for it to dry-fuck. That image made me impatient for the real thing and I rolled onto my back to let him come into me.
Instead he lifted my leg over his hip and guided his cock to my entrance. Both of us wiggled our bodies letting cunt and cock meet. I felt him sliding into me so smoothly that I almost cried with gratitude. His hand was on my breast and he returned to kissing me. This triple stimulation was pure heaven to my body. In his strokes I could feel it was driving him higher and higher. The cock was so rigid and strong! His hand strayed to my waist giving me new sensations. He fondled my thighs as he fucked me faster and faster. His kisses became more insistent.
When the fingers returned to my nipples, the excitement reached a peak and I felt my cunt muscles tightening and relaxing in waves. I was coming. He seemed to slow illegal bahis down his thrusting and kissing. He was now stroking me long and slow, letting me ride out my orgasm. He mumbled into my mouth as his kissing renewed its energy. He thrust hard and deep, held it there then drew back only to thrust again. These strokes took me high on the ladder of ecstasy. He increased his speed, but when his fingers left my tits, they went to my cunt, right on my clitoris. I felt it gripped and rolled between them this way and that. Only a few moments later I hit the ceiling with a wild scream. He covered my cunt with his palm while his strokes became gentler.
“Betty you are a wonderful marathon fucker!” He murmured into my ear. This accusation was unfair. I had never experienced what he was doing to me, and it was his fault, far more than mine. I told him as much.
He answered by twitching his cock inside me. I had not noticed he was still hard! How could he accuse me when it was he who fucked like a horse! No wonder Suzanne told us of his prowess in the bedroom. He started another round of titillating me with his fine instrument. Less than five minutes later he brought me to another thunderous orgasm. He too let go of his man-juice spraying my walls with its richness. He held me tenderly as we cooled down. It was such a delicious feeling to be so loved and treasured that my tears stood out again.
We lay like that for many minutes before we went into the white-tiled bathroom to share a shower. He turned that into a game of scrubbing each other, fondling, holding and sucking. He bent me over and fucked me so fast, as if it were our first and only fuck.
“They must not find out that we came to the bathrooms for this, not any call of nature!” pretending that our spouses were in the restaurant waiting for our return.
“You are beyond redemption, Tom!”
We left by our devious routes and met at the car. He was already inside by the time I arrived. He dropped me at my bus stop and zoomed off. That night I could not help feeling his cock between my legs, his tongue in my mouth and his hands all over my body. My husband dropped off the moment his head touched the pillow and I, too finally slept like the dead.
Suzanne already had a reputation in the staff room due to the speed at which she had had 3 children, separated by a year from each other. Every time we saw her belly bulging again, the more outspoken of the teachers would start teasing her about her bedroom affairs. What I knew but would never share with our colleagues was that she and her husband had a wonderful sex life, something I myself had never enjoyed with my husband. She would add fuel to the fire by telling me how he enjoyed to “talk dirty” during sex; this would give me feelings of being unfulfilled because no matter how hard I tried to imagine what he told her in bed, I could never find anything that would not disgust me if my husband said it to me while he was having his way with me. In fact that was what it had always felt like-he was slaking his own thirst upon my body with no thought whatsoever for my feelings.
So when suddenly we discovered that they were having difficulties at home I thought she was being ungrateful for all the gifts she had received in her marriage. Married into such an aristocratic family, a husband who gave her satisfaction in bed, lovely children, a house all their own. I tried to tell her this but she angrily pushed my argument aside, and I felt she would have preferred no one to find out about her marital situation. A little later, I was to find out that she had moved out citing what to me sounded trivial grounds. She said her husband did not give her enough money and was being unfaithful to her with other women, but none of us could nail her down to specifics. I tried to find out from her where she had gotten such information only to get a reply reminding me that we were women and we had the gift of intuition that made us sensitive to such things as when our husbands went astray. She would not let anyone in on her secrets; leaving many to think there might be more than we were being told.
These difficulties put distance between Tom and I. To keep away from the feeling that our dalliance was the cause of the marital strain, we decided not to see each other, although we were very hungry for what we had had at the Shade.
Six or seven years after she had flown her marital nest, with our friendship now suffering some strain, she dropped a hint that her husband had moved to court with a divorce appeal. She clammed up, however, when I sought more information, though in the ensuing months she would seem morose and thoughtful yet with a darkening of her brows. Having been her friend and colleague I knew this meant she was unhappy about something she did not want to talk about even with me. We were never to hear anything more from her about the divorce, which left me with the suspicion that he had been given the divorce against her wishes. Why she would fight the divorce was something else which puzzled me. She was obviously unhappy with him, she had packed out of his house, and she had some quite ugly stories about him. Yet she seemed to want to remain married to him!
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