Never under-estimate the vitality of a man’s gonads especially if copulation has eluded him for quite some time. That’s a fact I know very accurately from both experience and observation; the latter is not self-explanatory so permit me to detail an occurrence
Back in my second year at IUIU, I used to stay in half London in Mbale town. During that time the room was accommodating 3 students and so there was one small bed and another double decker. I used to sleep on the lower decker and one of my two room-mates, Martin slept on the top decker above me
Where do I start about Martin ? This lad’s life revolved around two things; books and cooking. There was nothing going for him in terms of social life. Every-time it was either my other room-mate, (John ) or myself who was occasionally requested other room-mates to go for “exile”
We were the ones who brought honor to that room by periodically bringing custodians of the fallopian tubes to the room; Martin just watched, cooked his rice and excused himself. This went on for some time until One day the gods of copulation oozed mercy on Martin.
I recall opening the gate heading to the room when I met John astounded by something. “Daron”, he shrubbed my name without shame as he prepared to tell me something. “You won’t believe Martin has a date”. I dismissed his remarks as the chances of that happening was the equivalent of a hyena genuinely helping a trapped goat out of a ditch. When I reached the room I found the door had been locked with an ‘’antigen” and there was commotion from inside. This was on a Friday evening
Customarily when a man had explored the pelvic composition of a lady, he would escort her so that the boys who were sitting inside the around the compound adjacent to the entrance of the hostel could scrutinize/appreciate/critic the caliber of specimen he had devoured. I sat under the tree waiting for Martin to come out but Alas!! we were handed our first exile at the hands of Martin. He never came out
The next day on Saturday I went back to the room hoping that Martin would be done as he was active the whole night but I still found the “antigen” on the door. I made some rounds and came back in the evening then John and I demanded that Martin open the door as we wanted to use the room too
He opened the door with the lights off ran and jumped on top of the double decker without us seeing him or who he was with. It was some weird shit right there. I tried to glance at the top decker and could see there were two human beings; she was still there. This assertion was collaborated by the strain that was exerted at the bottom of the mesh. We had nowhere to exile to for the 2nd day in a row so we remained in the room
In the wee wee hours of the night, these two lovebirds exchanged calm sexual intercourse amid some Itesot dialect. They weren’t really vigorous and so I could grasp a sleep or two until I was woken by a thud followed by a stampede like scenario.
That Martin had fallen off the top decker during copulation, landed on the cemented floor.. Climbed back up, located labia minora and continued with coitus as they giggled with his lady. I’ll tell you what, When most people fall from that height, they at the very least get a concussion, just ask hector bellerin but Martin was able to climb back up and resume proceedings with his turgidity undeterred. Such level of resilience from the loins is dangerous especially to a lady’s labia minora…you can friction that thing out of existence.
Martin would go on and subject us to exile for the next 3 days as he experienced coitus ilimitado. We had never seen him with a woman and he seemed to be paying back for lost time. He enjoyed that thing as if he knew that he would never get it again because in all honesty that was the last time we saw Martin with a woman during the remainder of our campus days. He had eaten to compensate for the past, caught up with the present and stored some for the future. He without a doubt has a place in the Coitus king hall of fame!!