Chaguo la Teeniz (CHAT) Awards is a Kenyan annual event
where teens nominate and vote for their favourite celebs -
musicians (both secular and gospel), TV and radio
personalities, comedians and local actors.
Dudes and dudettes at the height of teen hominess flock in
numbers on the material day to see their favourite yet elusive
celebs - faces confined only to TV screens, YouTube, radios and
newspapers and magazines - get autographs, pose for photos with
them and even flirt and dart if the chance presents itself.
I had just finished my Kenya Certificate of Secondary Education
(KCSE) exams and the sudden freedom from the no-nonsense Mrs.
Ombie and strictest parents on the planet was almost
debilitating - as it should be for a teenager who's become a
When the day came I snuck out like Christina Milian in her song
A.M. to P.M. I was garbed in the latest, outrageous outfit in
town - my pastor would have said Evelyn Adamson was decent in
the Garden of Eden before the infamous fall from grace; blame
it on fashion - and so was everybody else, especially those who
had body and booty to show.
I heard the music before I saw the musicians at the Kenyatta
International Conference Centre (KICC). The press of ecstatic
teenagers was like one body as the local stars regaled us with
their heavy, syncopated street beats and lyrics.
I managed to squeeze my way to the front - amid angry snorts
and off-the-book insults with the word 'biachi' thrown in
occasionally - when it came for the infamous 'Bend Over' dance
style guys to perform. I found myself on the dance floor -
bending over - without any idea in hell how I got there. It had
not occurred to me that the whole world (just Kenya) was
watching and dad, with his convoluted military idea of
discipline, was gonna murder me.
However, who cared? It was actually my eighteenth birthday and
as far as I was concerned I was an adult. I danced in the
gleeful swell of the music, no cares in the world.
Then, I noticed something weird happening - my body was
feeling strange as one of the musicians rubbed the front of his
trousers against my bum. It was an unfamiliar thrill, a tingle
all over my body that spiked and intensified before coalescing
into a sharp, damp heat, right between my legs.
I gasped as he pressed harder, slipped an arm around my waist
and pulled me more firmly to him. Instantly, I made another
discovery - there was stiffness in his trousers, below the
Gosh! He was aroused.
I did not know when the music ended because my body was
whirling, head swirling and heart twirling, beating over
two-hundred beats per second. I remember letting the guy lead
me backstage, to the changing room.
"Yo' uh one good dancer," he told me, making sure his Jamaican
accent was prominent. "Would'ya like catch some air, babe?"
Like he had read my mind.
We went outside to the parking lot. It was all too obvious
where he was taking me.
My knees felt weak, as if my legs refused to support my feather
weight. He took my hand and all I felt was his hardness against
He cupped my face, and then pressed his dry lips against mine.
His tongue probed, and I patted my lips. The tongue slid deeper
into my mouth.
His hand found my breasts and cupped them. I cried out, a tiny
gasp that surprised me. He stroked, caressed and even nibbled
my nipples. The feeling blazed up and down my spine, and
frothed between my legs.
"Yo' a beautiful," he told m
Layer upon layer of sensation choked me, and I felt champagne
bubbles sizzle to wetness in my thong.
Hardly had I felt my insides throb, a twitching that was faster
than my heartbeat, when I felt myself slump into a leather soft
"I wan' yo' badly," he said.
He did not need to, though. I was too willing to grant
permission. Every part of my body was screaming 'I want a piece
of this guy' so loud that I could hear nothing else. As his
fingers trailed my inner thigh, my flared micro-miniskirt
granted unobstructed access.
His mouth engulfed mine for the umpteenth time burying the
whimpers that kept escaping my throat. I was all wet, drowning
in my arousal, when I felt the unmistakable hard length of his
penis against my vulva, teasing my slowly opening labia. I
could feel that I was drenched down there, and I opened my legs
wide, so ready for the much talked-about first bite of the
serpent of Eden that it ached.
I surprised myself by lifting my hips towards him, and his
hard, hot shaft fell into position, right where it should be -
between my legs.
I writhed beneath him as he hammered my hot, blunt opening,
forgot the pain of his entry against my slowly disintegrating
hymen. His thrusts grew faster, his breathing heavy.
The hot wavelets of sensation that were hitting my clitoris ran
through the rest of my body at the speed of light, seeped down
my bones and thawed away the ice that had frozen for eighteen
years, leaving me limp, damp and utterly spent. I held onto
him, enjoying his heaviness against me, the strange dampness
seeping out of me and the lassitude that pervaded.
Just as I began to drift away, I heard the familiar clatter of
high heels on asphalt.
"'Tas ma' man," an enraged Jamaican female voice yelled. "Get
o' ma' man, bitch."
And so it was that I got much more than an autograph.
Copyright © Rati, 2013. All Rights Reserved.