Originally posted by dhulQarnayn:
^^^Hey
Cara
,
Don't you worry about SOLers like
Zack&Co
and
SCORPION_SISTA
who were hoping to read summin a lil "risque" and juicy-- It so happens that I, dhulQarnayn, have a particular forte, when it comes to narrating gamy stories. So enjoy!
****************************************************
I once met a girl on somalinet.com, if I recall correctly. She was a twenty-three year old college student who lived somewhere in the east bay, which was very convenient as it meant she wouldn’t have to drive far to deliver herself to moi'. Her profile pictures showed a cute and thin Somali chick who looked westernized, but those are always the best kind. Westernized Somali chicks usually tend to love the whole Killafornia “bad boy” image I’d cultivated, along with the ability to write in complete sentences and speak with a reasonable level of intelligence, until I'm drunk with caano boore ofcourse. This is usually a recipe for “I’ve never been with a Somali guy like you. Now, keen aan caano booraha kuu shubee"
Now since, this girl was particularly cute, I didn’t balk when she said she wanted to meet and share with me some caano boore at a local spot. See, I typically didn’t like to leave my house and, as a general rule, I made chicks come to me. This served a number of reasons including, but not limited to:
1) Calming my massive ego- I like it when chicks offer themselves at my door, ergo I am king.
2) Appeasing my massive insecurities. In the real world, I’m just another self-concious big fore-headed Somali dude. But in my own domain, I am king.
3) Saving me huge sums of cash. Lots of caano boore and shiisha at Casa de dhulQarnayn. Drink as much as you like, smoke as much as you like, I’ve got plenty (Of caano boore, not cash. I’m a broke a$$ nigga).
4) When THE favourable moment hits, where homegirl arrives at the intersections of shiisha high, caano boore drunk and horny, we’re already on location for MY incursion. (Have I shown you my marrakesh pewter duvet?)
5) I’m lazy and don’t like to go anywhere. (Snores before whores!)
But like I said, she was cute enough and seemingly “normal” for a Somali chick (They all seem normal at first). I suspected that she might back out altogether if I pushed her to come straight to my place. Plus it was kind of a challenge. Could I play the game outside of my own domain? Could I get her to buy the caano boore and shiisha? Could I get her back to my crib before she realized that she’s about to screw a total stranger who’s only criteria for a date was that she be cute and paid for my shiisha and caano boore?(I’m a romantic) So I gave her the affirmative and agreed to meet up with her at her favorite watering hole (and hopefully later be up in her favorite wet-hole?). She chose:
It is, or at least was, a cool little place in the east bay, right on Mowry Blvd. Not exactly my style, but they had caano boore and shiisha (which was totally my style), and girls (which were even more my style). I arrived a few minutes late and she was already there, puffing away at her first shiisha. I apologized for being late but she said no problem, she’d only been there a few minutes. A few minutes and she was already burning through the charcoal and polishing off her first glass of caano boore? That’s a good sign. As I was a chronic caano boore drinker, who gulped down caano boore like a thirsty man drains a tall glass of cold water, I enjoyed a female who imbibed the same way (I also enjoyed a female who could drain a tall glass of water, preferably mine). It usually turned out great. We both got a$$-out inebriated and thought it in our best interest to screw each other in spite of the fact that we probably did not know anything about each other. Of course, there was the occasional issue where one or the other of us got too high to function, or the other turned into a fcuking puss. But that shite happens. Call it a job hazard. Anyway, turns out she was a bit horny just like me and we got along swimmingly. We ordered numerous sessions of shiisha, had some great conversation, followed quickly by silly chit chat, and then kissed. We were full on going at it in the back of the lounge and, at one point, I had my hand so far up her skirt I think my fingers got tangled up in her fallopian tubes. Needless to say, we had a mutual attraction. This went on for a while until I finally said in af somaali, “Naa meesha naga kaxee!”, and let her pay the bill (I’m a feminist). We collected ourselves and staggered out the front door and onto the sidewalk. I suggested that she follow me home and she said, “Nope. I got a class to go to early tomorrow.” Ummm, did I just hear this naccas correctly? I left my house to come here. I drove almost three miles (ok, more like three quarters of a mile), but still she wasn’t going to give me ANY? Because she had a class in the morning? Oh noo! I didn’t spend the last couple of hours in a pretentious hookah lounge, fingering your poonanny and tongue wrestling, so I could go home and rub one out. Hell no!! you’re going to have to quit your bloody college!
I suggested that maybe she’d like to drive me home, just to make sure I get there safely (horny me IS very clever). To my amazement, she actually agrees to that idea (horny her is decidedly NOT very clever), so we start walking to her car.
We get about 20 feet away and she pushes me back into a semi-darkened doorway right off the sidewalk. She pushes her tongue into my mouth and starts rubbing my member in a way too aggressive for any public street, even in california. I'm thinking to myself,"Tan kuwii dhalay walee wey ku khasaareen". Anyway, I get hard instantly and I can’t decide if I’m turned on by her actions or by how clever I am. Nothing turns me on like my own ego(I’d screw me). One thing about good ol' dhulQarnayn, I never had a problem ever getting it up. Even in the most extreme conditions, I could still get it up. And up I was at attention, ready to pay homage to the nether regions of this crazy somali chick. The girl actually starts to unzip my slacks and I figure she’s just trying to get me amped up before we head to my crib. Head, apparently, is the operative word here. Seconds later she is on her knees and performing very "unsomali" things to me. I’m halfway between “DAMN this feels good” and “holy shit there are a lot of cars driving by”. I’m not an exhibitionist by nature and prefer that nobody watch me make monkey sex faces, particularly if they’re sitting at a traffic light in their Mercedes. And we’re not exactly in a removed alleyway either, nor behind a dumpster, off on some side street (Very romantic by the way, just fyi). We’re in a tiny corner, on a busy carriageway, next to a Hookah lounge that’s just closing down, street lights blazing. Two minutes later, people start pouring out of the lounge. All I can do is stand there, frozen, while this chick is on her knees manhandling my groin in front of most of the Westside(If only I could make that 2Pac shakur ‘W’ with my hand).
Now I have a multitude of problems (I have always had a multitude of problems). One, I have an overwhelming desire to start yelling down at her, “It’s last call b*tch, finish that drink!”, and watch if anyone else finds me funny. Two, I’m extremely uncomfortable and want to leave, but I don’t exactly want her to just get up and step away just yet, leaving me fumbling to cover up my naked pecker. Three, at this point I’d be happy to let her continue, but there’s no way I can do it with all of these bloody looky loo’s staring at me. Can’t these folks just mind their own fcuking business?
Move along people. Nothing to see here. This chick is not on her knees, sucking my phallus here on Mowry Blvd. She’s not. No seriously. It’s all a big misunderstanding. She dropped her contacts on my loins and is trying to find it with her tonsils.
Finally I had a moment of clarity, reached down and literally shoved it back in my pants. Zip. Snap. Kapish. Done.
I start walking.
She struggles to get up, steadies herself, then staggers and chases me down the sidewalk. I’m laughing and she’s a little angry but hey, it’s not like the sidewalk-suckoff was dhulQarnayn's idea. After a few seconds of blowing off steam (she’s doing a lot of blowing tonight), it’s right back to being lovey-dovey and ready to get in the car. Once in her car, she leans over and tries to get at it again with me. Now I'm kinda tired and would like to take a leak and really just wanna get home. I miss my home. I tell her let’s wait and get out of this area first, lest the highway patrol came and bust us for lewd behavior(Qofta waxaan uma leeyey ineena ogeen inaan "oday" Somaaliyeed ahay!). Moments later we pull into the parking behind my building (finally, dhulQarnayn's den, where real romance occurs) and she starts to lean over. I assume she’s going to come inside but she says no, that she really has to get up early for college. I start to argue but my heart isn’t really in it. I’m tired and truth be told, our rendervouz in the alleyway wasn’t all that great. The fun part was only in the fact that we were on a public sidewalk. I said goodnight, gave her a peck on the cheek, and jumped out of the car. In no time at all I was in my bed. And we never went out again.
Two days later I get a call from another Somali chick saying, “Did I see you at the hookah lounge on Mowry the other night?” I replied with, “Nope, never been there. But Somaali badan baa ii faanisay, so I've always wanted to check it out.”
“Wanna meet there for some shiisha sometime?”
I said, "Suuure!"
To be continued...
dhulQarnayn :cool:
Republic Of California
p.s
A&T
, eat your heart out Mr Sheeko Baaba Raqiis...LOL!
p.s.s
Some of the events that took place in that story were purely fictional-- dhulQarnayn is a God fearing wadaad.
Changing it to 'caano-booro' won't get you through and make you sound smart. Hadaad rabto inaad brother A&T la tartanto, grow some real balls first. Taking someone elses work and trying to lay claim to it is insane desperation.
source
