Sex and the Single Bloke part 12

LADIES!!!!!!!!!


What ever happened to the doctrine of a good top and tail splash (or as my Yoruba brethren call it............ TAMBA)?

What has gone wrong? Why have we neglected this all important bit of knowledge that has been passed down to us by the ancients?

A good tamba never fails...........

Don't be found wanting...........

CASE IN POINT: Whilst at university, I dedicated an inordinate amount of time towards getting close to this really gorgeous Indian chick. I tried hard to win her over but my efforts were rebuffed and she wouldn't put out, being a horny young man of nineteen, I gave up and started seeing another girl.

About a week after i gave up on her, I was in a club drinking champagne.........
OK, truth be told, It was eighties night at the student union, I was dancing to Ghostbusters whilst sipping on my 80p pint of watered down Fosters Lager (how I loved the Amber Nectar) and Miss India walks up to me quite tipsy (in fact she was totally rat arsed).

One thing led to another and i was at her apartment kissing and grinding on her. I felt I was in heaven, here I was finally about to sleep with the object of my desire. I pulled off her top and kissed her nipples, she took mine off and did the same to me. I yelped, cooed, shrieked, sobbed and spanked her for being naughty.

She proceeded to un-button her jeans, took them off and laid down and begged me to lay the pipe.

I did not need another invitation, I paused for a moment and gazed at her sweet smooth skin whilst she writhed in her sparking white thong, I grabbed her thong and slowly pulled it off, as it came off, I observed that she was clean shaven, but for a little runway of hair. OK people, truth be told, it was more like a brown a Mohawk.

Much to my curiosity I made the observation that the hair seemed not to end, it extended much further than normal.

I rubbed my eyes and looked closer....................

I recoiled in terror and let out a shriek not unlike that made by a wounded animal. I cursed my luck and nearly shed tears. I still remain traumatised by the fact that the long hair i thought i saw in her little booty was actually a thin trail of poo........ What followed was that i ran to the shower, recoiled into a foetal position and attempted to wipe the tears from my eyes. Unfortunately as my hands were within sniffing distance, i realised that she had unfortunately branded me with her scent... (day old curry)!!!!!!!!



I have composed a little poem to commemorate this post:

AN ODE TO TAMBA

It feels so good when I go to the loo.

Go to the loo, sit down and poo.

From the toilet to the shower the stage is set.

To crouch down low and get my bum bum wet.

Dance, dance to the beat of the samba.

And celebrate the virtues of the tamba.