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Tonde and Chipo started dating just recently. They live in a rural area, somewhere in the rectum of Zimbabwe. They arrange to meet at a secret place, under a snot-apple tree. It is off season for snot-apples thus the meeting place was a brilliant idea. Chipo came up with it, by the way.

Chipo: Sees Tonde coming. Phew, at last! Thank gawd!

Tonde: Smiles, approaches closer and hugs Chipo…He makes sure he grabs some ass. Chipo flinches a little. He leans out and says, Babe! 

Chipo: T… She smiles. What did you bring from me?

Tonde: Oh, yeah…here! He gives her something wrapped in a plastic bag.

Chipo: She opens it… Wow, these are rare berries. You such a darling! She kisses him. Again, he grabs her ass. She doesn’t flinch this time.

Tonde: These are really fine, girl! He says as he touches her ass…gently this time.

Chipo: Pun? Anyway, you making me feel funny, come on! She puts her arms around Tonde’s head and stares at him with her big eyes. Tonde holds her gaze for a moment and then wet his lips.

Tonde: Urgh, yesterday, I wrote a poem about us, you know? Grams scolded me for using up too much kerosene for the lighting, hahaha. I told her I was reading the magazines. Chipo laughs along with him.

Chipo: You are nuts! Anyway, come on; let’s sit over here and you recite it for me. Tonde sits leaning against the tree with Chipo in his lap, leaning out just enough for Tonde to see her boobs, which he looks at with love, lust and other four letters. Drug! Shit, no; drugs!

Tonde: He clears his throat and starts to recite the poem…

We met in a dream,
Lost in space and time;
Born in a part of the world
That falls under God’s blind spot.

Still, we loved like children,
Forgave like rainfall,
Honest like Math and
Passionate like the sun.

I will get us out of here
To experience the Russian winters,
The Greek architecture and
To buy you the orchids of Ecuador.

Chipo starts crying. Tonde notices and doesn’t proceed to the next stanza. Instead, he hands her the poem, yanks her a little closer to himself and holds her like a Spanish guitar. Yeah, Spanish guitar!

Chipo: Do you think God cares? She asks softly.

Tonde: I don’t know…

Chipo: What about the magazines you read? What do they say?

Tonde: Your mother lived a life of honor and bravery. Mourning her death for two years dishonors her memory, I think. 

Chipo: Mxm, it was my promiscuous father, you know? He brought the virus into the family when he was working at the registrar. Now the whole village thinks my family is cursed. The witch doctor confirmed this. Am I cursed, Tonde? What do the magazines say?

Tonde: Don’t confuse the cosmic for thematic, Chipo! AIDS  is just a medical condition. And you actually don’t have it. We took that test, remember? The whole village did. What can I do to make you feel better?

Chipo: Urgh, I’m happy; being with you is enough. She smiles.

Tonde:  And this? He asks as he tries to slide his right hand into Chipo’s panties.

Chipo:  Too fast, T! She gently stops his hand. She smiles again except this time biting her index finger. She zips down her pants and slides them down then pauses- to think, maybe. She slides away her panties too, opens up her legs a little wider, leans out before helping Tonde’s hand complete the slide. Instinctively, she closes her eyes. 

The tufted grass provides just the perfect hideout. Before long, Chipo is drenching wet. Yuck; Just kidding! Anyway, Tonde fucks her just like the previous day, the day before that and…well, you get the point.