Previously, I had taken 'happening' places for granted although I have been seeing quite a bit of it in pictorials courtesy of the rogue press.

But not any more. I gave it a try the other Wednesday in one of these Industrial Area-based clubs, and had the thrill of my life.

I can't clearly remember the occasion but that evening, here was a gathering of almost Kampala's 'who is who'.

From the college boys and girls, to the working class, the boda boda boys, pink-skinned fellas whom some falsely refer to as whites, albinos, a sprinkling of the countries celebrities as well as society's riff raff who had had a cleaning for the day.

So, don't take it to heart if you were there and I didn't notice you because what a crowd that was!

Well, in the course of attendants swinging to blaring music which I feared had capacity to burst my ENT (ear, nose and throat) and the guzzling of both known and unknown tribes of mwenge (brew), I rightly suspected that this was a gathering of people with capacity to do both nothing and anything.

And true to observation, the bu-girls who had 'okukola figure' freely bared their bodies leaving little to imagination as the hunting flies of male youths sprang to life at the sight of drool-inciting stares of tribes of female thighlands on show.

From the look of it, you, or anybody else, were undeterred to do whatever you liked as long as it bordered, but didn't reach the lines of having sex in the club.

So, you would see the youths being taken through the initial steps of learning to kiss and fondle female breasts and thighs and watch them look like hyenas on heat. With people moving in and out of the club while you could sniff the smell of ganja wafting in from the outside, it was no wonder some youths had wild staring eyes.

Here was a place where the unescorted could easily kulonda kkubo and go all the way with the new finds. This is why I moved around and landed on a couple of bazungu girls who were sipping Smirnoff and V&A wines.

On noticing that the two would not ignore me, we exchanged names and what each was doing in an introduction that roused giggles from the girls. I immediately smelt a sampling of unpaid for pudenda and like some Baganda say, Ddungu had kuyigga for me.

One thing led to another and I got real cosy with the girls who told me they are in Uganda on a study tour about something called cosmography-which sounded to me like a wild animal.

I told them that I have a blood relationship with the president of the great US of A and promised them that because I was born and raised at the equator, hot blood flowed in all my veins including those located in the penis.

The meaning of this is that like some men I know, my male member could readily 'salute' to rigid attention at a mere thinking of a v-monologue.

This is quite unlike what happens with the wazungu men who, because they live in cold lands, you have to first kubakumamu muliro (romancing, touch touching their genitals and sometimes requiring a fellating) before they rise to a poor erection.

I don't know if it was the booze they were taking or the news of what I had told them but the giggling girls offered me a free ride in their hotel room located at Kireka if I could prove  what I was talking about.

This was easy meat for me and I took each girl's hand, placed it on my now stiff imprisoned third leg and, as some college boys say, results were out. Have you ever heard of a zungu talking a local dialect?

On touching my hidden hot and pulsing kabi danger, the girls chorused: "…sebo, tugende." And so we went to their hotel cruising in my Toyota kibina. On the way, I promised to do to their bodies and natural slits things they had never seen under the sun, under the moon, nor under the stars.

Though born in the central region, I borrowed a few leaves from the east and western tribesmen to baffle these 'explorers' from Britain. The Wazungus, if you didn't know, have no compunction at getting naked and having group sex.

So, I had no trouble getting natural with these girls. I lifted one and planted her butt on a table and did a rapid 'kadido' on her. She flew into a frenzy, horror written on her face, as I took her through stairs of  sexcitement.

She was flushing waters of love like nobody's business while hollering in animalistic voices I nearly jumped out of my skin fearing I was making love to an animal and not a human being. She collapsed real kuzirika with unexcelled passion written all over her face I had to lift her to recuperate on the bed.

Almost like a mad lion rumbling in the jungle, I attacked her surprised friend guiding her in the preferred sitting position and instantly did on her kathing a rapid kacapizo with the dexterity somebody from Mbarara would envy.

From the way she was reacting- her body in a vibrating mode like happens on your Nokia ka-tortch, the girl hissed like an angered snake pleading with me not to tear apart her kaduuka and now and then swearing she badly wanted to urinate (she mistook a free flow of her love juices  to urine).

I rightly ignored her giving her the workout her grandparents loaded over our ancestors in the days of the slave trade."    
   
You will have to know the rest of my encounter with these girls on another day.
As related to us by Maneno
        
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