Masturbating inside Restaurants

java restaurant nairobi sex and masturbation storiesHello dear,

I have this thing that is disturbing me. Whenever I am sited in a table of 4 people, I always imagine my face looking like someone who loves masturbating inside restaurants. You know those high-end restaurants in Nairobi that smell of coffee all the time?

I don’t know, but I can’t avoid this feeling of a guy who is here to stare at dressed up women with pretty faces and decent fake accents for twangs. Expensive smells coming from these women is like telling me to sit at the corner alone, and start imagining my own things. In a moment, I will tell you why I love sitting in the corner.

You see, my dressing is not smart, plus I order the cheapest food on the menu. I always love sitting at the corner. The reason being, that fake-smile waitress would rather have me out of the way, perhaps so if I happen to stain the carpet, it would be on a less noticeable part of the house.

There’s this place I call ”Huck Finns” in some secret corner of the city. I have frequented the place a few times. I remember the first time I went there, I was made to sit next to an eX-KDF solider called Mwalii who also showed me a gun for the first time. I mean I see corps walking around with AK-47 riffles, but never have I been so close to these things before. With my judgement, I think this ex-soldier was cool, a little bit terrifying, but composed nonetheless. The third time was this wanking session which I am now telling you about.

Another time I was standing outside, chilling for this pretty fake-smile thing to come and show me the place I belong inside the restaurant. Like I had expected, she came over, then said or asked with one eyebrow twisted towards heaven ….”Table for 2?”

A few inches behind me stood an old white guy. I think the waitress must have thought this fellow was grooming me. These days it’s hard to find a young man coming to eat alone in a restaurant.

”No, I need one seat, just one”, so I replied.

The waitress shrugged and lead me off to the mandatory table. There was this Indian couple on the far end who appeared to be in an open relationship. Then next to my table was another couple who sat without saying a word for 26-minutes and only thanked the waitress after picking up their empty dishes. I didn’t know what was the matter with these two.

Because the horribly silent couples left the place, their chairs were empty like a vacuum, so I had to shift my focus forward, to some two chairs that were directly placed ahead of me. Again it had two couples, in their early thirties. They were slightly older than me. They giggled like piglets, laughing and throwing jokes on one another. Then I had her say ”Dessert?” At this moment, I wanted to throw my fork to her throat and let is stick there. It was not with the bitterness of an old man, rather, I was just jealous.

For the first time I felt lonely, but I took comfort knowing that I looked like those guys who sit alone in the corner of restaurants, secretly masturbating whenever a beautiful lady stands nearby.

Now let me end it here. I don’t want you to judge me.

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