To start this combat support from the allies were not sought after, messengers were not imprisoned, armies were not ordered, men were not dressed in uniforms, tanks and weaponry were not used, and no casualty was reported, yet personal cannons were fired to conquer hormones and spread happiness. Imperialism and colonialism may have ended long ago, but some people continue to practise and derive pleasure from it. I
The Saturday turned out to be an imperialistic slut (that's my dear friend called me when I did my usual kiss and tell). Having come back from a gruelling offsite, I had planned to keep a low profile for the weekend and go to bed early. In fact I had even postponed two movie offers from friends. But then the two text messages and raised my latent energy (horniness) and earned me the title "Imperialistic slut".
The Algerian conquer: Since the beginning of French summer, this guy had been texting me and throwing me an offer to conquer the concubine in him. Sometimes I delay the offer and keep it waiting to test their commitment and weed out fake offers. I didn't have to go out to conquer him, a text message delivered through Bouygues Telecom with my address and building code brought him to my living room. You can call it subordination, respect, obedience or simply horniness!
The 6 foot tall Algerian, with eyes resembling the colour and calmness of the Middeterrainian ocean arrived in my living room. The only language his lips and tongue spoke was kiss and that too with deadly passion. Soon his hands started to grown inside my undershirt like magic vines. So now who is really being conquered here?
Not sure if it is a matter of excitement, respect or protocol, he started to remove his shoes while his hands grasped my lateral muscles. But nervousness and excitement overtook the sense of respect and as a result his pants came down ahead of his shoes. He invited himself into my bed room and along with him went a black colour pouch. Very soon he was in my bed breaking the rules of Imperialistic engagement.
By the time I turned on the "tity latch" (The latch is like a fan regulator or like a radio knob and one has to turn it anti-clock-wise to lock the door) on the door he was beginning to set the stage in the bed room for a true imperialistic take over.
As soon as I entered the room, I saw him squatted in the corner of the room like a guilty prisoner and his hands were tied at the back. Was it an act of self surrender to plead guilty to the charges and reduce the sentence? And when I picked him up for a deep kiss My hands felt his handcuffs. In awe and shock I pushed him on to the bed and for the next 20 minutes there were only my hands playing on him.
I always believed sex should be a two-way highway for maximum pleasure, but that day I realised one pair of hands can be equally fun. Though it looked unfair, it was a pleasure to watch him helplessly wiggle and horrible moans (hormoans) filled the room every time my lips touched his cock and nipples, my tongue scooped his hairy armpits and my noses crated behind his ears. Like the jailer who satisfies the last wish of the prisoner before execution, I satisfied his wish by firing the cannon on his face. Happiness of a million tulips blossomed on his face.
The Madagascar conquer: After the Algerian was conquered, I took a cold shower and went to the nearby grocery store to revitalise my body. And an hour later when I got back, I had a few Whatsapp messages waiting. Again I didn't have to set out to conquer, but wanted to come home and submit himself. It was from a Madagascarian cub who wanted to pay his respects before he left the city. The cub kept regularly addressing me as daddy (older bear) and that entrusted me with the responsibility to reciprocate.
Before I begin my next kiss and tale, let me remind you that Algeria and Madagascar were both French colonies. Let's not blame the imperialist, some people naturally seek and derive pleasure from self submission letting them being ruled. Let me set the expectations, the Madagascar conquer was very different from the Algerian conquer.
The cub had a lanky frame, but a half an inch thick black fluff on his face made him not look emaciated. I put my hands inside his t-shirt to feel his muscles and bones to check his age. His throbbing cock touched my thighs and triggered my hand to grab his wavy black hair. I pushed his head behind and started with the first course: lippitizers.
The cub wanted the main course to be served on the bed, and with some hot sauce. The first request was to pass on commands and punish him for disobeying them. My choice was restricted to only commands, while he took control of the punishments that he wanted me to give him. The first punishment he suggested was to grab his hair and slap him on his face, the second was to spank and yell at him and the last one was to spit on his. Never having executed this kind of a request before I was taken aback. But then I wanted to be a true daddy and keep my cub happy. I tossed him on the bed and taught him the tricks he needed to know. Every time he disobeyed I meted out severe punished which he took it with a smile and hugged me back with love, respect and showered me with a hundred kisses. Like a true daddy I licked and clean him up with care and love.
I never imagined I would have such a imperialistic Saturday commanding the Algerian and disciplining and teaching the Madagascarian cub some survival lessons. But nevertheless the imperialistic behaviour punished me with a load of hook-up laundry (soiled bed sheets, towels for my conquers, etc.) and taught me some new tricks.
