I was once dumped in an exam room. By a girl I had literally rescued from an academic suicide.
The unit was Financial Accounting in my 2nd year in campus. Those who have ever done that unit know that sh*t is harder than a Viagra induced erection.
It had notoriously made several people miss graduation.
The lecturer, a fat and ugly looking don, on introducing the unit told us emphatically that less than 30% of us would pass the thing.
True to his word, only 5 of us managed above 7/30 in the first CAT. As we revised it, he asked whoever had gotten question 3 right to show to the class how he had done it.
Silence.
NO hand was rising up.
I had gotten the thing. I scratched my groin and then walked casually to the board. After 3 minutes of elucidating the sum, I had earned myself the tag of the Mathematical power house of the class. I then turned with a whiff of satisfaction and confidence, the lecturer nodding and smiling awkwardly.
It is paramount to say that as I walked to my seat every girl was academically horny.
I never knew I had invited more than I had bargained for.
That evening a girl called Adhiambo knocked at my door. She was a yummy yellow girl with killer eyes and a rounded bum. Her delicious-looking dashboard was talked in low tones by all male species in and without the campus premises. She knocked and got in. I had seen her in the class but my guts had refused to be gathered to face her and ask for her offertories. Now gods had brought her into my chambers, alone and at night.
She told me that she had failed the dreaded unit for 2 consecutive years. She was to fail again it if I don’t help her pass it. She had fallen in love with my astuteness and was here to make a deal with yours truly.
My notorious Anaconda alias Hiroshima Nagasaki aka Sledge Hammer started vibrating in the trouser congratulating me for finding for him a potential jackpot.
I was to help this yummy lady in the exam, and willingly she was to reciprocate the heavenly gesture by offering that which any delicious looking girl can offer a man under a conjugal dry spell. I was to sit with her, helping her copy my work and then after finishing the damn exam we head into my room for continuous 3 hours of copious rumble in the jungle.
Come the exam day, I made my bed and sprayed it with royal spray as I anticipated the genital interaction scheduled to take place in the starved bed. As I walked out hurriedly to the exam room, I stacked a palm of groundnuts in the mouth and munched as I sped off.
I entered and booked her a chair beside me. Soon she arrived wearing a tempting miniskirt and sat next to me.I could see envious niggas looking in my direction with greedy eyes, wishing they were me. The exam began. I perused the pages, it seemed easy, to me. The lady’s eyes popped out as she stared at the first question. She was seen blues and greys. I tapped her thigh and she looked up, and smiled as I gave her that seductive stare- I am the Boss and your Savior here.
I was careful, sliding my answer booklet in ‘Angel Theater’ to help her get the best view and copy comfortably. She was fast. Sometimes copying faster than I was answering. I was tensed and fatigued, trying to balance between working out and ensuring we are safe from the invigilators prey eyes.
I also discovered something else, the horny you are during an exam the clearer you think. That doesn’t mean you watch pornography before going to an exam nigga, brains are different.
I sighed as I put the final answer down- with 15minutes to spare. She smiled at me, Hiroshima smiled back in the pants. I had done my part, and the sweet reward was awaiting me. My legs were shaking and knees swaying in anticipation.
The answer booklets were collected. I stood fast, and followed my catch as we squeezed our way out, occasionally tapping her swinging butt.
As we stepped out of the door my head was spinning and all blood pumped to the groins- where it was most needed in the next 3 hours. I held her hand. And asked her how she found the copying game.
“Haki thanks for that. That was so sweet of you.”
“The bed game will be sweeter, I queerly quipped.” She said nothing.
As we were about to leave and head towards the conjugal stadium in my room, someone called her from the back.
“Adhiambo mamboz!”
It was another bugger called Sam, a fourth year who had
She turned and literally ran to the idiot, hugging him tight and hanging on his chest for minutes. I closed my eyes. They cuddled, laughing hysterically and off they walked. I was still standing still, confused if to follow her and tap her on the shoulder to remind her that she has some dues to pay. She was hanging on the idiot’s side, loudly confessing how he had missed him. I coughed twice to re-catch her attention to no avail.
As if aware of the bad news, Hiroshima Nagasaki shrank humbly and felt cold. I dipped my hand in the trouser, patted him and whispered, “Pole Mzee”.
I turned on my way, headed to the room.
I slumped into the lonely bed, nostalgic of the abandoned match. I locked the door and blasted the woofer with Franco’s ballads to cool down the nerves.
I knew she would need me again if at all she was to pass another scary unit called Taxation. Then I will demand my payments before my service, and then I will revenge for this painful debt
