Of Cocktail Sex in Nairobi’s Big Bedroom

Reading Time: 6 minutes

Nairobi has been my stage, and I’ve played the role of lover, mistress, and fantasy. Each man—Matt, Adam, and Oliech—poured himself into me like a different cocktail blend, intoxicating in its own way, but never quite enough to erase the memory of the first.

Matt, not his real name, was the first dude who tore through my vaginal walls, bringing heaven and the galaxies to my bed. With every thrust, he took me to different worlds. In one, I was weak for him; in another, I was obsessed and wanted him to pump my pussy only. Matt would look in my eyes and remind me, ‘’ No man will ever pump this dick better than I do, Reesh.’’ I always brushed off this sentiment until later, when I got to taste a cocktail of dicks.

Fed with kienyeji misheveve and fresh Tilapia fish from the lake, he had grown into an energetic fine man with a firm dick and deep thrusts that got to the deepest parts of my wells. Every other nigga I have tasted after him was probably fed on Cerelac or just needs to cut their lazy dick off and throw it to the dogs.

My best encounter with Matt was in Chevenis pub, under the blue light and noisy music, as I gulped down sips of cocktails down my dry throat. There’s just something about cocktail sex; intimate sex at its purest form.

Wine sex is so passionate, but jealous. Matt bought me wine, and every time he’d open my legs, I’d be full of passion and poison. Suddenly, I wanted to know whose pussy he was pursuing, or why the chick at the club was staring at him. I’d even think of strangling him as he thrust inside me. Well, Matt fed me poison. He chased after my friend’s ass, and I decided to drop his dick. I hope he enjoyed and still does enjoy pumping my friend’s kitty. Anyway, all I’m left with are memories of his dick and sweet thrusts.

Enter Adam.

I met Adam during a writer’s party in the city of Nairobi. Adam, a celebrity I had crushed on all through my teenage years, approached me during the entire party. Somehow, my crush on him had waned, but I wanted to kiss his lips so bad every time I saw him on TV.

I didn’t think much about him during the entire party, but he pursued me relentlessly. He gave me whisky the whole night, and I thought it was just a kind gesture. Even as women pursued him the entire night, his eyes were on me. To say the least, Adam took me home that night. I was met with sneers from the other women at the party, but the time to make my teenage fantasies come true had come.

We toppled over to his house, fish-drunk at 12:00 a.m. after the party. Adam wanted to rip my clothes off immediately we got to his home, but my eyes were stuck on his living room wall. This guy had vied for a political seat but flopped. He had trophies on his cabinets and a big shelf stacked with books, many of which he had written. I didn’t fuck him on the first or second night. For some reason, I feared him, probably because he is a celebrity, and sleeping next to him was like a dream.

I stayed at Adam’s house for three days from the day we met at the writer’s party. Our conversations shifted from his writing career and the esteemed writing awards he had received to his three divorces and sex scandals as a celebrity. I talked to Adam about Matt the entire time we spent together. Every time I mentioned Matt, he cringed. I even implored him to edit the book I plan to write about Matt. He swore by his mother’s grave that he would dump me if I wrote a book about Matt. Forget about the whisky he gave me, Adam took me to some rooftop restaurant after the first two nights, where we enjoyed cocktails after munching on fish fingers and samosas.

After a morning of cocktails, loud music, and dancing, Adam took me home. Drunk and horny, I was grabbing his dreadlocks and asking him when he last tasted pussy. Adam, an intellect, loathes small talk between the sheets. He grabbed my pussy and ate it out so wildly, then thrust his dick in it. Suddenly, I remembered Matt and shed a tear. He didn’t taste anywhere close to Matt’s sweet dick.

I’d hate to stroke Matt’s ego by telling him that no man ever got close to his sweet sex. Thank the heavens that Matt and I no longer talk. In between the sex, Adam’s bosses called him since he had been absent at work for three days, obsessing over chewing my pussy. He didn’t answer the calls; being a celebrity, everyone died to work with him. He dismissed the calls and buried his face between my thighs.

Adam pursued me for a couple of months, and every time he bought me lots of whisky, which I never enjoyed. He never bought me the cocktails again; as such, I didn’t feel him the way I did the first time we had cocktail sex. I don’t fancy the fact that Adam is a celebrity. Every time we go out, I usually feel as though some paparazzi are following us everywhere, and his whisky is as bitter as his sex.

Enters Oliech.

Men from the lakeside have been my worst mistake. Nonetheless, when Oliech called me Jaber, I was ready to let loose. We had been in between safaris in Diana and Maasai Mara, but all he told me was, “Jaber nikikushika nitakumaliza…” I don’t like boastful men because they hardly perform. Matt was never boastful about his sex, but it was heavenly.

Oliech is the CEO of an established organization in the city.. He called me one morning: “Jaber, I’m in the office, come and say hey.” I found a bevy of women in his office, all fighting for his attention—he’s a Luo BIG man, so all women love to rotate around him. For the first time, I was not jealous. We had a crazy night in a local pub under blue lights, loud music, and a crazy DJ. We stumbled into his house at 11 p.m.

Oliech is a married man, but that night he stayed out to spend time with me—sacrifices that Matt never made for me. Visiting Oliech in his office reminded me of Matt. Matt was my senior manager at work. Sometimes during the work shift, Matt would call me to his office to have a lazy chat. Afterwards, he’d ask: “What are you doing tonight? Can I come over to see you?” I wasn’t fucking any other man besides Matt at the time, so I was always ready to see him and talk to him and have him inside me.

I remember one instance when I knelt on his red office carpet and sucked his dick like my life depended on it. Boy, Matt came, then looked in my eyes, saying: “No bitch ever sucked my dick the way you do.” We made out in the office time and again; it was amazing.

Oliech, a boss at a Nairobi-based organization, made me remember Matt. He exuded boss vibes, only that he’s a gym guy and well-built. I expected his sex to be as great as his body—how wrong was I. After drinking copious amounts of cocktails during a night out in a dingy Nairobi club, Oliech took me home.

A married man, he just called his wife to tell her that he was too drunk and would sleep at his brother’s place. Then he kicked his brother out, and we had the night to ourselves. We didn’t even have sex that night… but my pussy was wet and flowing the whole night. I wondered what the cocktail sex with Oliech would feel like.

We cuddled and slept until 5 am, when his hands started roving on my chest, then thighs. He couldn’t hesitate but lick off my flavorful juices. I grabbed his dick and swirled my lips around it. I sucked it till Oliech gasped for air. I was disappointed—I thought his dick would be better built than Matt’s. Then I remembered when Matt told me that no man would ever fuck me like he ever did. I shed a tear.

Oliech shoved his dick in my pussy and pumped it. He couldn’t hit some spots that Matt reached effortlessly. Every time Oliech was thrusting in my well, I was thinking about Matt and crying. Oliech thought I cried because the sex was too sweet. No baby—I craved Matt’s dick.

Later in the afternoon, he introduced me to his three young kids and treated us to lunch. Oliech must have seen me as a baby-making machine since he talked about his kids during the entire lunch, then told me that he’s hoping to get two children out of me. I laughed mirthlessly because I knew it wasn’t happening. Anyway, Oliech has pretty and smart kids. I don’t know if they told their mother about me.

I have had an assortment of cocktail sex with these city dudes. Had sex with three different men in a day. Had sex as I sipped my cocktails. Had cocktails for sex and sex after cocktails. Isn’t Nairobi one big, beautiful cocktail bedroom?

I’ve fucked, cried, and confessed—but the city still thirsts for more. Keep drinking from the well at Erotic Africa

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