Strangely, that day at Elder Jumbe's house, no intruders came looking for the girl. Dawn arrived the next day, and she woke up to go about her usual chores. When it was time for school, she prepared as usual—it was a Friday. Lessons could continue normally, and no announcements were given that would force her to stay home.
Early that morning, a man appeared at the residence, standing in the medium-sized living room. He held a phone to his ear, waiting attentively and listening closely. Suddenly, he frowned and decided to put down the device, then tried dialing a number. He listened again as it rang, only to hear a prerecorded voice signaling that the call could not be completed.
He frowned and tried several more times, thinking it might be a temporary network issue, but the responses remained the same. The person he was calling was unreachable. He could try later or leave a voicemail. Frustrated, he finally sat on the couch, holding his head in his hands over the situation.
"How are you, Father Sara? You look troubled," a woman's voice came from the doorway leading to the living room. The man was startled, his mouth hanging open for a few seconds as he tried to find something to say.
"There's a gentleman I'm supposed to meet today. I was going to leave the office and meet him, but until now I can't get through. Since yesterday afternoon, I've been trying to reach him on his phone," he said, clearly uneasy.
"Don't worry, husband. If it's not meant to be, leave it be. Don't overthink. Just prepare for work; I've set water in the bathroom for you. Focus on your tasks, and let other matters wait," she comforted him, then rose from the couch looking more energized and entered the room, unwilling to wait any longer.
"This morning alone, and yesterday too—I really overslept," he muttered.
"Don't drag me into your troubles. Desires come at their own time. Tell me, will you share or hold back?" said a young man, speaking sharply to Siyawezi, staring at the girl who had arrived in a playful yet daring manner, her hair in rasta braids.
At that moment, the girl had simply wrapped herself in a kanga, lying on her stomach. The young man was behind her, one hand on her hip, while she wore only minimal undergarments, slightly strained and revealing. He spoke as he touched her, and when he noticed her remaining still, he pressed the kanga against her as if removing hardened earth from her body.
Her smooth, glistening skin was clearly visible. The girl did not startle; she remained still like a statue, lying on her stomach. It appeared she did not enjoy the action, which explained her stillness, though she was powerless to resist. The young man, not wanting to restrain himself further, began to play with her chest, softly brushing and pressing his lips against her back. She started to twitch slightly, trying to stretch her back in response.
She stretched her legs while lying on her stomach, breathing heavily. The young man planted a firm kiss on her back, caressing her with his lips on the inner areas, allowing his warmth to penetrate. The girl reacted strongly to this. She tried to roll away, but was held firmly in place.
After a while, he moved his hand downward, exploring carefully as if preparing the soil to dig, encountering moisture that was sufficient for his purpose. He then held one leg, spreading it, while gripping her waist slightly.
His fingers explored thoroughly, skillfully guiding himself. He arched one leg further and entered carefully, moving steadily. He lowered her other leg, pressing it firmly to ensure full contact from all sides.
One hand held her waist, the other pressed her hip to lift her back, allowing him to pleasure her with his tongue. It was intense, though he controlled it while she remained mostly passive, only giving small movements in response. The stimulation was overwhelming, and he continued, increasing pace, while her reactions were limited to small twitches. He then switched techniques slightly, holding her waist while stretching one leg, maintaining a steady rhythm. He continued this pace until she reached her second climax.
He attempted a third, but she managed to push him away forcefully.
"I'm tired, sir. Go bathe quickly. We can continue later this afternoon or evening," she said.
"Don't stop me yet! This was the last chance here," he argued.
"You know very well what mornings are like for you. You could finish all four times here. And if you don't go bathe, you'd rest and try another two or three rounds," she replied.
"I said one," he insisted, turning face-to-face with her. "Rajab, aren't you going back? Don't you sleep here? Every morning, when you start, it's as if a spirit takes over, and you go on until I'm exhausted. Wake up and bathe," she commanded, maintaining her position, unwilling to give in despite his insistence.
Hearing this, the young man said nothing more. He adjusted his undergarments, then got off the bed, went to the wall peg, and retrieved a towel. He glanced at her lying provocatively, then left the room, clearly displeased with the situation. Desire had gripped him, but he had no choice but to accept reality and not force further.
It was still early morning, and most people had not yet awakened. He had the advantage of leaving early, accustomed to preparing for his passenger duties. He felt at ease, knowing most people were still asleep. He left with a bucket in hand, his other hand holding soap, ready to draw water from the well and head straight to the bathroom to bathe.
Suddenly, he encountered a very young girl outside, whom he knew lived with her parents there. She was also heading to the bathroom, wrapped only in a kanga, carrying her own bucket. She intended to bathe quickly and then go to school.