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A little later, we crossed into Swaziland. “I not like these amateur people, we fight them, but not for some years now, better we not stop near their Kraal.” as Nandi pointed to some young warriors. We kept going, only camping far from any signs of human activity, and soon we were at Bulembu, before entering South African territory. The journey from there, up through Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), was uneventful. On passed Bulawayo, Salisbury (now Harare), and to the Mozambique border at Nyampanda. I would have liked to have taken Nandi to the Victoria Falls, but it was too far out of our way. We crossed the River Zambezi at Tete, and it was here, that I made my first mistake. Instead of sticking to the main road heading north, I went northeast, towards where we are now, by Lake Nyasa. We were in the process of setting up evening camp when Nandi stiffened. She stood quite still, just listening. “Get guns ready, I think trouble Hardcore coming,” she said. Her natural hunting skills had picked up on some natives making a stealthy approach, instead of the normally open and friendly way, that they usually would. A bang, and then a bullet kicked up dust, close to where I lay. I rolled and fired, at the same time as Nandi. We weren’t really aiming for anything, we couldn’t see anyone, but it was better to let them know we were armed and ready. I heard a sound behind, and turned, in time to see a scruffy native, charging towards Nandi. He had his panga (wide bladed African machete) raised, ready to strike. My blood went cold, japanese thinking I may be too late, I spun my rifle round and fired without any proper aim, my bullet caught him in the shoulder. As he began to spin round, Nandi had thrown her short spear, it took him, dead centre of his chest. He fell, quite dead, of that I was certain. We both then scanned the low bush, but nothing moved. “They gone.” she said. I checked the guy out. Probably Mozambique rebels after our horses, I guessed. I decided we shouldn’t camp here after all. asian So we packed up and moved on, to eventually arrive where we are now, looking down on the lake below. A few days later, we caught the steamer, horses and all, and were soon enjoying a pleasant voyage, almost the full length of Lake Nyasa. Nandi was astounded at such a huge ‘house’ floating on water. We disembarked at Kyele in Tanganyika, the country of our destination. The remainder of our journey went by without a hitch, and soon we were approaching Mpwapwa (pronounced Mm-pap-wa). This was the nearest town to where my friends lived. After finding the hotel, we were washed and refreshed, had a good meal, and a couple of ice cold beers. It was the first time Nandi had ever seen a proper bed and a double size at that. “Too soft, but I like it, we test tonight, it has good bounce!” was all she said. The next morning, we set off for Dave ‘Jock’ Grant’s place. I knew Jock, his wife Liz and son Peter, from the time I had been working in the Serengeti National Parks area. It had been fetish four years since I last saw them. Nandi was very apprehensive and looked extremely worried. She was breathing heavy. Master Hardcore was worried about you every day, he told Momo, and Momo was worried too. “Just a plastic bowl! Bell plays with her velvet robe amateur like she is going to drop it any second. Tara said loudly. Suddenly the girls were either side of me, Bella with her camera looking me up and down. Not all the guys were ripped like Jesus, not all had 12 inch cocks, but they all had white women few of us would turn asian away, performing deviate sexual acts. She pulled Erica's face off Michael's cock, and passionately kissed her girlfriend on the lips. fetish He looked over at the empty space next to him; he japanese was alone. “Now suck.”