Liz stood on the balcony of her parents' fourth-floor flat in Ngara Estate. She imagined how she would like her wedding to be. The helicopter would light on the flat Indian-style roof to snatch her off to the largest cathedral in the city, the Holy Family Minor Basilica for a grand wedding ceremony. Then her groom and herself would be flown to the Windsor for the reception while common folk drove along the ground like so many insects.
Then the thought struck her that she would therefore need a very wealthy man to be her groom. She searched in her mind for a suitable candidate and could not come up with a single name. Of all the men she knew among colleagues at the bank at which she was a teller, no one was suitable as a groom. Sure enough she had fucked lots of them, but that was all they were good for. Among the customers who came to the bank and who preferred to be served at her teller window, there may have been one or two likely candidates; those whom she had fucked did not qualify as prospective husbands, being either married or not wealthy enough to fulfill her fantasy.
Another thought struck her and a sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach: would she be satisfied with the same cock day in, day out? For she could not bear more than one night without a fuck; on the second she badly needed a man, any man! On occasion she had dragooned her very own brother to go out drinking with her, and in a state of intoxication, take him to bed. More than once it had to be a run-down low-class lodging house, attracting many side-glances with her expensive style of dressing. Last night was one such.
Being a Friday, she had called Bob her brother, when by 3pm, she had not yet figured out who was going to be thrusting in her hungry cunt and give her satisfaction. She told Bob that she had a few thousand-shilling notes that would suffice for their drink. He was a copy editor at the Nation newspaper not many streets away from her. So they rendezvoused at The Pub on Standard Street, having enough drinks to give them that tipsiness which usually helped them silence the conscience that reminded them they were siblings. Then they took a room at the Kenya International, where a taxi deposited them at the entrance.
By now, having done this severally they felt no need to hide that they were together. It helped that they did not look so alike that their kinship was obvious.
He held her around the waist tenderly as they took the lift to their floor. Shortly they were in their room and discarding their clothes in very undignified fashion. He had her boobs in his large hands, squeezing each eagerly. She was kissing him greedily and moaning into his mouth. She wrapped her hand around his cock, finding it already standing tall and stiff. She slid the ring formed by her forefinger and thumb along his shaft, exciting him yet more. In scant minutes, he was pushing himself between her eager lips and she was lifting her hips to meet him halfway. He fucked her hard and fast just as she liked it. Her legs thrashed in the air in enjoyment of her brother's cock. One of his hands was back at her tit, squeezing her nipple between his fingers bringing her closer to her precipice. Her breathing became like a wheeze, which now told him she was nearing. He sped up, driving to her cervix on each stroke. She bit her teeth together and screamed through them as she came powerfully. "Oh my love! That is it!"
The thing she loved most about her brother was that he knew when she was at her height, then paid attention when she descended slightly, timing his resumption of those bewitchingly long strokes. This fanned her flames yet again. He kept up that devilish rhythm that was sure to send her right up to the peak. And he was right. It did not take more than a few minutes before she was screaming through clenched teeth. This time he did not get left behind, releasing a torrent of sperm deep into his sister's cunt. He wanted a third round after they had rested for a few minutes, but Liz had had her fill and refused her small brother. But she consoled him by taking him up to the gate of his apartment building and giving him a very wet goodnight kiss.
*********************
On the balcony Liz reminded herself that it was the Saturday in December when the bank threw a party for all staff. It was the one occasion when senior officials mingled with clerks and messengers in equality. The only business was drinking as much as one could mange, after eating as much meat as their stomach could take. Beef, pork, chicken alongside game meat like crocodile and antelope abounded. She remembered how last year the Manager Operations, Kirtikumar Sonpal was caught by a messenger fondling the secretary to the Credit Manager in a corner of the bar. It was a great thing the bank did not condone inviting spouses to the party. Liz thought to herself that fights would surely break out when an invited husband saw his wife becoming overfamiliar with a male colleague. Or perhaps a woman came with her husband and got caught in flagrante delicto with an overeager clerk.
