Never trust an ex boyfriend. That nigga knows your girl’s weaknesses, her spot, her vagina, her favorite position, her libido, cum sounds and all that shit. He taught her a few things, too… her mic skills, how to throw that ass back, that she should arch her back when you’re hitting it from the back… My nigga, you know someone had to teach her all those skills. They don’t watch porn vids to learn this shit, some nigga watched the porn vid and taught HER that shit!
You never let your girl do the following with her ex boyfriend: WhatsApp chat/FaceBook message/call/say hi/wink/think/wave at/attend his wedding, or any other bullshit excuse to have some communication. You know the consequences: she will start treating you badly, start comparing your dick sizes, belittle you, not call you back, and eventually leave your sorry ass! She wouldn’t even be going back to the ex, she’d fuck the nigga for two weeks straight and then leave you for another other nigga that wanted her! Oh, your pimp hand and dick game is too strong? Hmm…. Let me tell you a little story about what Special Star gets up to in Maftown!
You will remember that Star is a fucker! He fucks!, and he’s good at fucking, too! Stinky pussy made him win wing man of the year once, but that’s just one of his Super Star story!
He once told me a story that was quite mental to think about. He had this married chick who worked as a clerk at Garona, and the chick’s husband was a soldier. With soldiers, they’re often away at Mozambique/Lesotho/(insert name of small African country here) kicking ass and taking names, so the women are often left alone. I had warned him against this, initially, as soldiers are not stable upstairs. But then he told me she swallows…
There’s just something so erotic about women who swallow cum. Giving head is for freaks, and swallowing means you’re a nasty freak! We like that shit!
So, the chick had a son about a year and a half years old, and Star hadn’t been THERE in a while, so the chick invited him over. She cooked, fed the kid and put him to bed. This meant Star now had this chance to hit it. When Star had started with the chick on her marital bed, the kid climbed off his bed, perhaps from all the noise, and went looking for the mom. Star tells me they don’t close the doors in case the kid wakes up and shit. She has whorish ways, but she’s not a bad mother, you know! So, the kid walks in sobbing with his bottle in his mouth, but Star and the mom never stopped the action. The kid leaned on the bed sobbing for a few minutes and then kept quite. Little homie, apparently, just checked out the action and drank his milk bottle. Star bust his nut on her chesticles, cleaned himself up, all the while little homie is sucking on his bottle and looking at Star as he left the building.
He wasn’t that lucky the next time he came around to that house in Unit 13, though. Star’s uncle had left him house-sitting, with the keys to his van too. Star picked up the girl and took her to his uncle’s crib. He had her way with her, but then the husband calls. “O ko kae? You left the kid with the neighbors and you’re whoring around Mafikeng! Do you know how late it is?” “Ao bathong, I’m with my friend in Unit 15. We’re just having a few drinks. Can’t I socialize anymore?” “Where are you, I’m coming to pick you up now!” “Well, you can find me at the Unit 15 shops then.” This woman must be addicted to Star because just after she dropped the call she said “Star, one more round please?” Star, thinking hell yeah I ain’t gonna say no to some of this forbidden cookie, agrees to give her one more round. He busts a quick nut and rushes the woman to the Unit 15 shops.
He drives into the parking, parks and looks around for any sign of this guy. The chick opens the car door and the automated indoor lights come on. He quickly turns them off in case the husband sees his face. The chick now wants to say thank you and all that shit, but he really couldn’t stay there and say bye and shit. Some dude from two cars down opens the door and rushes over to Star’s car. Star, seeing that this might be the husband, quickly closes the passenger car door and reverses out. The guy runs back to his own car, a Renault Clio, while Star starts to haul ass!
From the rear view mirror, it seemed the husband just left the wife in the middle of the road to chase Star. Star puts foot down! He gets chased down the main road in the middle of Unit 15, past the school and over the humps. he sees that this guy is hauling ass behind him. Star takes his foot off the accelerator so he can slow down without braking, and making it obvious to the guy behind that he’s trying to slow down. As soon as the guy behind came speeding down the road, he braked, turned into a small road way too fast, but he made it. The husband speeds past that street though. All Star heard were gun shots and car tyres shrieking under heavy braking, and a heavy crash. He managed to shake the guy from behind him so hard he crashed into someone’s house. He was actually there the next day, watching when they were hauling the car out of the house. He never called the chick to check up on her, but you know that shit didn’t end up well for her.
The now 28 year old Star got married when he was 22 years old. He married a young chick that sort of had a thing with his younger brother. In his defense, he did ask his fat younger brother if he can hit that before he made his move.
Cecile, the girl Star married, was a tall, slender and pretty coloured girl from Danville. I have a thing for coloured girls, shit, every nigga in SA has a thing for coloured girls. I should phrase the previous sentence like this: I like coloured girls who are NOT from a coloured township! Or any township as a matter of fact. No matter how larney she is, my nigga if she’s from a coloured township just beware! She might be nice, she might be beautiful, light caramel skin, pretty-ass eyes she, might have pretty hair, that accent might be sexy at one point, yeah, and that body might be one to worship, but the mindset is something I don’t fuck with.
My homie Star paid lobola, moved in together in a nice flat in Jozi, meanwhile he’s working a lowly job as a desktop support technician for Telkom. He wasn’t making a ton of cash, but he had enough to live, but stretched it out so Cecile could live a comfortable life. Cecile worked as a beautician at those Strawberry, Rasberry, Custard or whatever dessert name of that beauty place is. She made her cash, no doubt, but Star pretty much paid for everything. “Star, didn’t you mind paying for all this shit when she had a job?” I ask. “Mfethu, I don’t know why I did it. Maybe I was just hoping that she would start buying shit for the house, too. Dumb, right?!”
We all go through that, though. You think “I’m the man of the house so I’ll pay for everything.” The chicks also think “He’s the man of the house, he better be paying for all this shit.” Or even worse “He’s the man in this relationship, so I’ll only pay 20% of the shit in this house.” Yes, it’s worse because you’re basically recognizing that you should be paying for something but you would be damned if you spend all your money on your husband. At least with the “I ain’t paying for shit” woman, you’ll know from the beginning this woman is there for the comfortable life you’ll be giving her.
With Star paying for everything, he also gives her access to his savings account and his current account. She would withdraw money and take her friends out. Things really started to take a turn for the worse when she spent R4,500 from their savings on a night out in Sandton with her friends.
“So what happened that night, Star?” With a heavy sigh, Star answered in a low tone, evidence of how hard that event hit him. “Well,” he started, it was the Friday night and we were heading home. I asked her if she wants something to drink or if she wants to go out tonight. She said no. She knows that I’m not one for crowds and going out to party, but I did it for her each time we went out partying. I hired a movie, got a pizza, got a few beers and chilled. Around 11pm I hear hair driers going in the bathroom. I thought to myself, hmm, okay. Anyways, she comes out of the bedroom and asks if I can drop her off in Sandton to meet up with some friends. She then promised that she’ll catch a cab back home of ask one of her friends to drop her off. Well, I think to myself, since she wants to go out let me not tie her down. I drive to Sandton, pay a bribe or two on my way back and head straight to bed when I get home.
“In the morning she’s not next to me. Strange… no SMS, missed calls, BBM, or nothing! I try and call her to find out if she’s fine, but her phone is off. Later on in the day an SMS comes through “I slept over at my friends place. I’ll see you later today.” She should have come later the Saturday, but it’s Sunday morning already.
“She once told me she was going for a jog,” Star said, interrupting himself, ” but then she came back two hours later. She didn’t even smell of sweat, or look like someone who went for a jog. Who the fuck goes for a two hour jog?! Anyways, like I was saying. She eventually comes through Monday morning, changes clothes and does her hair. She doesn’t shower, just changes her clothes and does her hair. On our way to work she doesn’t mention where she was, and I didn’t ask. Later at work I decide I should check my bank balances since i don’t get SMSs when money gets spent. I didn’t see anything in my current account, but then I checked my savings: R4,500 swiped at Liquid Chef in Rosebank. Huh!? I call her up, “Baby, how did 4.5k get spent from our savings?” “I paid for the bill, but my friends paid me back in cash.” Later that evening she shows, not give, shows me R1,000. That’s all she had on her. I guess I felt defeated, that’s why I didn’t ask where the rest of the money was.
“The Tuesday evening, a call comes in on her phone. I recognize the name. Her cousins actually came and told me about this guy who is now on the line with me. When I was seriously going out with her she was still seeing this muhfucka on the side. The cousins told he’s her ex-boyfriend. “O batlang! What do you want with my wife nigga!” “Don’t be so cocky with me nigga. Did she tell you where she was this weekend? Did you even know she’s pregnant? Did she tell you I put it in her ass?”
Okay, so, the moral of the story is: You can’t make a hoe a house wife. The exes thing is just something else that can trip you up to that destination of making your girl a wife.