There is always drama when schools open for a new term and, it's the parents who are at the centre stage of it all.

Right from the panic at getting school dues, to putting together scholastic requirements, the transportation to schools, preparing a child's admission into school and the drive back home, it's big buck spending.

If, as you also must have noticed, the parents sweat real ntuuyo to accomplish these tasks, we wonder what nature of sweating takes place between the female's thighs, especially on hot days; because indeed a lot of thigh rubbing goes on.

Roland is a rich parent who has three girls at this famous school in Gomba. He drove them there last weekend in his state- of- the- art Freelander and was to drive back home alone but for what happened at the school.

While he was having his children cleared into school, in came- two parents behind him in the line, an amazon of striking beauty. She was a busy body and from her conduct, a true novice at going through the clearance stages unlike Roland who had gone three years as a parent at the school.

Roland, a man who doesn't let an opportunity go by him, silently swore to get acquainted to this maama w'abaana after completing the school's requirements. When he was through, he dilly-dallied around only to discover that the woman had missed bringing a few of the school's requirements.

The perplexed woman looked on confounded and lost for what to do because the teachers manning the clearance desks were not allowing her child into the school minus the requirements.

Roland took this as the chance he was looking for and jumped in offering to help. The woman looked at him amazed at his magnanimity and allowed him to lead her out of the line, while holding her right hand, towards his Freelander.

On the way to the vehicle, Roland  explained to the woman, Grace, her name was, that he could drive her to the nearby town where they could get the missing school requirements.

This was after Grace admitted she didn't own wheels and had come with her child aboard a fair-paying taxi. The rich-smelling inside of the vehicle seemed to mystify Grace what with the addition of the inter cooler system?

But Grace was a haven of other misfortunes when she discovered that she couldn't trace her money purse which she insisted had all the time been inside her bigger hold-all; a glittering crocodile-skin handbag.

Roland merely smiled telling her to forget her worries because he was loaded enough to take care of all that was required. "Kale musajja ggwe sikulabanga; oba naakwebaza ntya?"

By this she meant she was overwhelmed by Roland's magnanimity that she even asked herself that question a woman in her right minds should never express before an admiring male.

Roland's body (it's a body of a man who quickly warms up to female admiration) started heating up and by extension, a bulge started developing inside his boxer shorts. It's one hajat I know who objects to an observation that on meeting a male, a female's eyes goes to his face, his fly, his shoes, before appreciating the weight of his wallet.

Of course she is wrong and Grace proved right the above observation when she failed not to notice the growing bulge in Roland's pants which the poor fella had no way of hiding as he negotiated the hot and dusty bumpy murram road on their way to the shopping centre.   

Roland tells the rest of story: "The shopping was done hurriedly and Grace swallowed two cold Nile Specials before we returned to the school with the requirements. She became a bit too talkative, the booze having unloosened her toungue.

She told me a lot about herself- how she was a single mother resident in a plushy house in Muyenga.

We quickly got done with the school and without being invited, Grace jumped into the co-driver's seat ordering me: 'Tugende…' Now, me, I don't like being ordered around by a woman, especially when I find that such a woman is at my mercy. So by ordering me tu kugenda, I swore she was going to get the answer to her earlier wonder; how she would pay me back.

"On the way to Kampala, is an executive guest house with a big and romantic compound. I drove into it's compound without bothering to ask for Grace's opinion.

There, the moneyless woman gulped down three other Niles in a succession in addition to a good helping of fried nyama ya kuku. She had become sexcited, had a glassy look and didn't object when my hand started exploring the warmth of her hot thighland.

She only responded by hissing as if I had inserted my little friend into her kaduuka. One thing led to another and myself hot and panting with her drooling of sex, I led her into a room with a mazongoto bed and a snow-white bedspread.

"I love mature women because with them you forego the hassle of 'fighting' your way into the middle of their legs as is the case with young girls.

Grace was too bold for my experience as she participated in undressing me after she had got rid of her dressings but for the net-like lingerie answering to a g-string and bra. She attacked me like a monster on heat and once I hit base she rode me with the strength of a horse never letting go even after I poured magma inside her.

When I did, she only got on top of me and rubbed me back to life before she started jazzing herself with my bazooka. The result of her efforts were gallons and gallons of hot love juices pouring out of her as she swore in Kinyarwanda by all her relavites. It's that day that I met words like 'wichare mwana', 'wanyeta taata' 'okozire omugurusi.'

Roland says they left that place the following late morning both of them drunk on sex and smelling of the same despite a shower. We will read more of Roland and Grace's frolicks in the future.

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