Sisters of Stone Town

The wedding is for my cousin Amira, but I'm watching my aunts.

Shangazi Mwanaisha and Shangazi Halima. Sisters. Fifty-four and fifty-one. Both widowed. Both heavy with the softness of years. And both, I've realized tonight, watching me.

"They're competing," my mother whispers during the reception. "Over you."

"What?"

"Don't pretend you don't see it. Mwanaisha keeps finding reasons to touch you. Halima won't let you out of her sight." She shakes her head. "Sisters. Always fighting over something."

I look across the courtyard. Mwanaisha catches my eye, smiles. Two-sixty of matriarchal authority in gold brocade. On the other side, Halima does the same. Two-forty of quiet intensity in burgundy silk.

Both beautiful.

Both clearly hungry.

After the nikah, Mwanaisha corners me.

"Walk with me," she says. "I need air."

We slip through Stone Town's narrow alleys, the reception noise fading behind us. The old Arabic doors watch us pass. She leads me to a small terrace overlooking the harbor.

"You've grown," she says. "Since I saw you last year."

"I haven't grown in years, Shangazi."

"You've grown here." She touches my chest. "And here." Her hand moves lower, cups my cock through my kanzu. "Have you been with a woman, Jamal?"

"Shangazi—"

"Answer me."

"Yes. A few."

"Young girls. Children playing at love." She strokes slowly. "Have you ever been with a woman? A real one? Someone who knows what she wants and how to take it?"

"No."

"Then tonight is your education."

She takes me to a small rented room near the harbor.

"I keep this for when I visit Stone Town," she explains. "My own space. No questions."

Inside, she begins to undress. Her gold brocade falls away, revealing the body I've dreamed about since adolescence. Heavy breasts, dark and pendulous. A belly soft with decades. Thighs that could crush a man.

"Your uncle couldn't satisfy me," she says. "Dead for five years and I still miss what he couldn't give. But you—" She pulls me close. "You're young. Strong. You can give me what I need."

"And what do you need?"

"Everything."

I worship her.

Strip her completely. Lay her on the narrow bed. Taste every inch of her—the salt of her neck, the musk of her belly, the sweetness between her thick thighs. When my tongue finds her clit, she cries out loud enough to wake the neighbors.

"Yes—ndio—like that—don't stop—"

I don't stop. I make her come twice with my mouth before she pulls me up, desperate, demanding.

"Inside me. Now. I need to feel you inside me—"

I slide in. She's wet, ready, and she gasps as I fill her. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deep.

"Finally—finally—a real man—"

We're mid-thrust when the door opens.

Halima stands in the doorway.

"I knew it." Her voice is ice. "I knew you'd try to take him first."

"Halima—" Mwanaisha doesn't stop moving beneath me. "This doesn't concern you."

"He's our nephew. He concerns both of us." She steps inside, closes the door. "And I won't let you have him alone."

"Then what do you suggest?"

Halima begins to undress.

"I suggest we share."

This is madness.

Two aunts. Sisters. Both claiming me in the same night.

Halima's body is different from her sister's—smaller but still heavy, two-forty of curves and softness. Her breasts are fuller, her belly rounder, her thighs thicker in proportion to her frame.

"Keep going," she tells me. "Finish what you started with her. Then it's my turn."

I look down at Mwanaisha. "Is this—"

"It's what it is." She pulls me deeper. "Finish me. Then give her what she wants."

I make Mwanaisha come twice more before I release inside her.

She collapses back, satisfied, while Halima takes her place. The younger sister is hungrier, more aggressive. She pushes me onto my back and straddles me before I've fully recovered.

"Five years," she hisses. "Five years watching my sister be the beautiful one, the desired one, while I stayed home and decayed." She sinks down onto my cock, takes me deep. "Tonight I get mine."

She rides me with a fury that borders on violence. Her hips slam against mine. Her nails draw blood from my shoulders. Beside us, Mwanaisha watches with satisfied eyes.

"She's always been jealous," the older sister says. "Even as children. Whatever I had, she wanted."

"And now I have him." Halima moves faster. "Now he's inside me—"

"He was inside me first."

"Then we're equal."

Hours pass.

They trade me back and forth like a prize. Mwanaisha takes me from behind while Halima kisses me, then they switch. Halima rides my face while Mwanaisha rides my cock. Every combination, every position, every way two sisters can share a man.

"This is wrong," Mwanaisha pants at one point. "All of this."

"I know." Halima is beneath me, her legs locked around my waist. "I don't care."

"Neither do I."

By dawn, we're finished.

Three bodies on a bed meant for one. The sisters on either side of me, their soft flesh pressed against mine, their breath warm on my neck.

"This was supposed to be a competition," Mwanaisha says.

"It was." Halima traces circles on my chest. "We both won."

"What happens now? When we go back to the family?"

"We're aunts caring for our nephew." Halima's smile is sly. "We can take turns. Mwanaisha in Dar. Me in Mombasa. He visits us both."

"And when we're both in the same city?"

"Then we share. Like tonight."

I look between them. Two sisters who've spent their lives competing, finally finding something they can share.

"You're both serious."

"Deadly serious." Mwanaisha kisses my cheek. "You're ours now, Jamal. Both of ours."

"The family—"

"Won't know. Can't know." Halima takes my hand, presses it to her breast. "This stays between the three of us. Forever."

We dress separately.

Return to the wedding celebration separately. Act like nothing happened.

But throughout the next day, they find excuses to touch me. A hand on my shoulder from Mwanaisha. A hip pressed against mine from Halima. Looks that promise more.

"When will you visit Dar?" Mwanaisha whispers.

"Next month."

"Good. Come to my house. We have... things to discuss."

Halima intercepts me an hour later. "Mombasa. The month after. I'll expect you."

"And if you're both in the same city?"

"Then we both expect you."

It becomes our pattern.

Alternating visits. Competing pleasures. Occasional nights like Stone Town, when circumstances align and I have them both.

The family notices nothing—or chooses not to. I'm just the dutiful nephew who cares for his widowed aunts. Who visits regularly. Who stays overnight when needed.

They don't know what happens behind closed doors.

The competition that became collaboration.

The rivalry that became routine.

Years later, Mwanaisha asks me directly.

"If you had to choose. Just one of us. Who would it be?"

"I can't choose."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both." I pull her close—we're in her Dar es Salaam apartment, her sister due to arrive tomorrow. "You're different. Both of you. What I get from you isn't what I get from Halima. I need both."

"And Halima? Does she know that?"

"She asked the same question last month. I gave her the same answer."

Mwanaisha laughs. "Sisters. Still competing. Even when we're sharing."

"Maybe that's what makes it work."

"Maybe." She kisses me. "Now. Make love to me before my sister arrives. I want you tired when she gets here."

"Why?"

"Because then you'll last longer. And she'll know you came to me first."

The door opens the next morning.

Halima enters without knocking—she has a key now. Finds me in her sister's bed, Mwanaisha asleep beside me.

"Started without me."

"You were late."

"Traffic." She undresses, climbs in on my other side. "Make room."

Mwanaisha stirs, opens her eyes, sees her sister. "Ah. You made it."

"Barely. Is there anything left for me?"

"He's young. There's always more."

They both look at me. Expectant. Hungry.

"Well?" Halima traces a finger down my chest. "You heard my sister. Show me there's more."

Damu ni nzito.

Blood is heavy.

Heavier when it binds you to two women who refuse to let go.

Two sisters who spent their lives competing.

Two aunts who found a nephew worth sharing.

And me—the prize they both won.

The tie that binds them.

Forever.