Don’t Die a Virgin

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(My Terrorism Journal)


Don’t die a virgin, terrorists are waiting for you in heaven.

I am every terrorist’s wet-dream girl. I have big, wide and beautiful/lovely/lustrous eyes, like pearls, just the way the Quran says in Surat Al-Wāqi`ah 56:22 – 23. I am tall, baby-faced (what the Hadith calls eternally young), complexion like that of Samantha Lewthwaite the terroristess, voluptuous and full-breasted. My boobs are large, round and not inclined to hang. I am everything that the Quran and Hadith promises terrorists would get when they die for Allah including an appetizing vagina (I think mine is) except I am not a houri (virgin), chaste, pure, and non-menstruating.

I escaped the terrorist’s bullet by a whisker on September 21, 2013. I was part of the cooking competition on the rooftop of the Westgate Mall in Westlands, Nairobi when al-Shabaab terrorists besieged it. At the moment it did not occur to me that I could make love to the same terrorist in heaven as his reward for killing me and other innocents for Allah’s cause. Perhaps he did not know that I was a virgin or it was just sheer luck that he did not sent me to wait for him in heaven.

When those who survived the Westgate Mall attack rush to shrinks to empty their traumatized minds as a way of dealing with the ordeal, I go to have sex. I am a student and strong believer of the Kama Sutra, and for me sex is a ritual of union with the gods.


I decided to break my virginity immediately after September 21, 2013 just in case I died I did not end up with a terrorist whom I will be expected to spread my legs for forever. Or where does their eternal supply of virgins come from in heaven? I imagine that they are girls who were virgins on earth and when they die they go to heaven and gets premium membership in a harem for terrorists. I wonder what happens to women mujahedeen. Do they too get seventy-two virgin men to screw her, forever?

I am still an under eighteen, but I have had more sex than my mother has had her entire lifetime. More even after the Garissa University College terror attack on April 2, 2015. And no, I will not reveal the identities of the men I have sex with. I would not like them to be dragged to court by moral police and sexual offences campaigners for defilement. My life, my choice, right?  

The terrorists claim each time they sleep with a houri they find her virgin. Besides, the penis of the terrorist never goes limp. The erection is eternal; the sensation that they feel each time they screw their dark-eyed virgins is utterly delicious and out of this world and were anyone to experience it in this world they would faint. Each terrorist will marry seventy-two (sic) houris, besides the women he married on earth, and all will have appetizing vaginas. That’s according to one very old sex-maniacal geezer who is said to have died sometime in the Middle Ages, around 1500 CE.

The thought of having sex, for eternity, with a mass murderer is disgusting, repulsive. I can’t even imagine. Being good in this life won’t help. Be a bad girl. The baddest even. Heaven doesn’t exist, especially for virgins. It is hell up there if you don’t tear up your clothes for MTV, indulge in orgies and sell your three/foursome sex tapes to YouPorn while on earth. Or isn’t these virgins actual people who once lived and roamed the universe?

With the look of things, Muslim heaven is going to have a short supply of virgins very soon. Al-Shabaab has had a field day massacring Kenyans and now they want to go to Alaska, Boko Haram has already snatched 200 virgins to have their paradise on earth, ISIS wants to establish an Islamic world, al-Qaeda have become WWW (world wide web), and Islamic radicalization is at alarming rate because of the promise of an eternal supply of virgins. It is seductive, being a terrorist I mean. The numbers are unprecedented. Woe unto you if you die a virgin.

Kidnapped

She didn’t feel concerned at first, not until she glanced over her right shoulder and saw the men running, catching up on her, closing in. Within no time, they were onto her. One of the men slammed her to a wall, and before she could scream, an adhesive tape was stuck to her lips, sealing them as though to keep a secret. Plastic cables lashed her wrists and legs together.

Pregnancy

(Diary of a Rogue Hustler)21st May; I enjoyed the torment of suffering resignation I saw in their eyes, all of them. Men, when they have something to lose, are great

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