So, we managed to wrap our grubby hands around a leaked booty call purportedly had between Vice President Kembo Mohadi and his alleged married lover only established as Abbigal Mumpande. In it, the later cautioned the cool national exec he would overdose on an aphrodisiac as he braced himself for some sloppy top w/ the twisty top combo and the deep depths special.
While we are yet to make a WhatsApp group call to verify its inauthenticity with some forensic experts waiting for their haircut after a month and a half long sabbatical due to the lockdown, a group of about 30 dudes who passed through our offices going to Soul Jah Luv’s funeral this morning gave it an official ghetto youth verification stamp of approval.
“Sounds legit, sounds like the man. It gotta be him,” they all chorused as they proportioned the last of the guka makafela they had.
Anyway, the alleged recorded call (broadcasted by ZimLive) sets up with the septuagenarian asking Abbs if she is still in the office or has gone out, to which she replies that she is still in. Then the “VP” tells his lover that he called to tell her that he loves her, and his mind is made up forever, to which a titillated Abbs laughs approvingly.
The conversation suddenly swings to their planned rendezvous later, as Abbs asked the mans;
“Linathile yini into leyana? (Have you drank that stuff?)”
“Yes I have, I drank two cups,” he says.
“You will overdose!” a surprised Abbs responded.
“It’s not that sour,” the “VP” says.
Now, there has been a hullabaloo on social media with overtly petty folks saying that the leaked phone call embarrasses the national exec as he’s “entangled” to a married woman.
Others even went to the bottoms of mortifying him for taking aphrodisiacs, as if they are not cool. I mean I don’t know about the “sour” stuff, the Ginkgo biloba, and the Yohimbine, but figs, bananas, avocados, onions, garlic, chocolate, pork, peanuts and kidney beans… now hold on bruh.
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Here at #enthuse we have no issues whatsoever with people who are looking to spice up their sex lives or penetrate each other where and how, although we are quite big on the circumstances under which it is done, ie is it consensual?
For one, it is because “cat lives” sucks. Like, have you ever had intercourse so terrible that you had wished you could roll back your sex odometer?
For those of you who are as clueless as the both of you, cat life is the sex you wasted on someone who was unworthy of it. The three minutes, two months, five years, you wasted letting someone into your notorious quivering mound of love pudding and all they left was negativity and bullshit.
As I saw folks mocking the VP online, I thought back on all the “life” that I had wasted since I became sexually active. I swear it was like I slipped into a trance. All the tear-filled nights, the breakups after wasting time with the wrong people, the one-night-stands that I could’ve traded for a hot bath, vodka shots, and even a good read. All of those times I gave myself away, just for the person to go on about their business and play pelvis pogo with the next dude.
I’m sure we’ve all had at least one person whose house we’d love to show up wearing a hoodie, kick their door in and demand that they give us back all the fake moans, late nights, early mornings, and wasted time. If you’re anything like me, I’d be on a spree in this… especially since I believed I had the “good-good”.
So to all the weak dudes out there trashing the VP, come on, save that victorian-era subjugation-of-a-woman’s-needs for the 1820s. If your meat muscle ain’t that fire, eat or drink some goddamn aphrodisiac, for Lawd’s sake so that you keep your partners’ cat lives close, and only do the cha-cha slide when you know damn sure you can take the time to make the kitty purr.
I’m sure there are some who find this subject distasteful. Do me a favour: show me your CatFix or just eat your grits however the hell you want.
Goodbye!
