Bashir Bonga Perreira

Bashir Bonga Perreira

There's nothing as dangerous as a randy woman.

Allow me to give you some background on how I reached that conclusion.

First there are people who call themselves players, lovers and so on.

But me, I call myself a "service provider" and, trust me, when I say that my services are among the best in town I mean it.

Of course it depends largely on the appeal of the client and the sweet noises she makes when I serve my hot - you know what.

Anyway, let me explain what I mean by a "service provider".

I'm a rolling stone.

I prefer women who tell me, "don't call me, I'll call you".

When they do call I know it's for only one reason and that is to engage in a passionate sex experience.

Of course our business is conducted in the most humorous and humane way possible.

At times we chit-chat about subjects of interest to both of us and on occasion we watch movies, cook for each other or dine at this or that restaurant.

Simply put, my business with those I provide services to is not for financial profit but for emotional and physical fulfilment.

I call it a journey of exploration in the emotional matters of sex.

As with any other professional business, terms and conditions apply : no strings attached and no sticking like chewing gum in woolly hair.

That brings me to my statement that there is nothing as dangerous as a randy woman.

I will call her Sara.

We had not done our thing for about four months.

I avoided her for all this time because she broke one of the rules that govern our no-strings attached arrangement.

Sara phoned me one evening and behaved as if she were my girlfriend or wife.

Not that I'm saying wives or girlfriends have no right to behave the way she did.

Well, Sara showed she was developing signs of getting obsessed with me.

She called me countless times - in a stalker kind of fashion - and ended up leaving threatening messages on my phone.

When I eventually called back she demanded to know my whereabouts and why I had only returned her calls after a week.

She then committed the worst crime and hung up on me before I could say anything sensible to her.

Four months later, this past week, I went to her place, at her request, with the intention of reminding her about our arrangement and to advise her to cool it.

Well, she looked tamed and apologised for her behaviour.

I then told her I was about to go home.

She gave me a strange look. You know the kind where you are not sure if it has anger or hatred written all over it.

I asked what the matter was .

"You're not serious are you?" she threw a question back at me

I told her I was serious and stood up from the couch to walk toward the door.

She jumped on me, like a cat jumping on a bird it has been watching for a while, and wrapped her legs around my waist.

I tried to move but her tight grip would not let me.

She kissed me like a woman who has gone insane. Her shy character had disappeared.

Her feet eventually landed on the floor.

I was dazed at that moment.

She ripped my jeans apart with the speed of lightning and held my most prized possession in one of her soft hands.

I let out a soft cry and immediately surrendered.

Thirty minutes later I found myself all sweaty and lying next to her.

She ran her fingers around my six pack and up my chest.

Blood gushed up and down my spine and into my head.

She began to speak in the most clear, smooth and polite voice.

"I will never do what I did, I promise you. I am really sorry I acted the way I did. It's just that . I just missed you. I mean I missed . what we do together. It sooooo . aag. I don't know how to explain it . you know what I mean mos."

I nodded and kissed her on the forehead.

I'm no expert but I have generally noticed that many woman who have gone without sex for a long time tend to be easily irritated and angered.

They are highly sensitive beings and snap quickly.

Sarah's actions were as a result of not having had sex in a long time, finish and klaar!