Part 1

 

 

My eyes bulged at the scene before me as I walked in.

 

I turned around immediately and bumped into Johnson who was right behind me shutting the door. “Any problem? You look frightened’. He quizzed.

 

I shook my head vigorously. I didn’t want to speak so he’d not recognize my voice.

 

How do I explain to myself that the guy I saw just now, the same guy threatening to tear down the walls of El-Classico Hotels with his soft-pitched melodious moans, under the powerful ministrations of Gideon’s waist, was my boyfriend. No. My straight boyfriend.

 

Iyanu ko ni dekun o.

 

“Seat down and feel at home”, he said. “Can I get you anything?

 

Yes. An explanation from Mr. Straight.

 

 

 

                                                                                                  ***

 

I still remember the day I met Mr. Straight.

 

We met when parents kicked their wards, both biological or adopted, out of the house if they perceived a whiff of Marijuana or Indian hemp or found anything that induced highness on them, was normal. Disownment was just another consequence on the menu.

 

The substance had recently spread to our part of town.  Before its arrival, rumors were circulated that it did a lot of things, including madness, quite alright. But who added the part that if children took it, the next thought was to kill their parents and try to inherit all the properties? Even killing their siblings in the process. This had instilled fear in the hearts of all parents in our small town.

 

It was also what motivated Baami, my father, to stroll gingerly into our family parlor one morning, assembled his 2 wives and 16 children and gave us all a stern warning that the day he had any reason, any slight reason, to doubt our innocence of the substance, we would be kicked out of his house and into the streets. This was the exact warning all other parents were reciting to their children all around the village.

 

Did I adhere to his warning?

 

Perfectly.

As my heart led.

 

Now comes the part. Deep down in the heart of what was known as a jungle to the inhabitants of town, was one of the most thriving drug cartels in our State. To the inhabitants, everything rejected and forbidden lay there in wait to lure its next victims.

 

But to those who were bold enough to venture in, it was just a landscape of trees with diverse measurements of light, making some places seem more detached, darker and much sinister. Everything was sold here. Pills, Coke, different brands of smoke, Codeine and all other medications that had been turned from their intended use answered present in this hideout.

 

 It was here, at the Countryside, I had met him.  That was what our cartel was called.

 

Tunde.

 

Everything about him brought the rough, raw and the needy part of a man to mind. He wasn’t handsome, nor was he an ogre.  His rough appearance clashed against his comely nature. The way he hollered and catcalled all his guys at the Countryside was pleasing to watch. He never left one out. It was like he was the shepherd of a flock as he asked routinely and unfailingly about them all.

 

I began to sneak from home away from home to the Countryside. I was introduced to the place by Seyi, a popular queer figure and the sluttiest power-bottom there had ever been. Enjoyment, as we both called it, helped me cope with the pressures and disillusionment that accompanied being a first child and first son. At 22, I was yet to complete my secondary education not to talk of moving to the tertiary. All this happened because my father had pleaded with me, at SS1, to discontinue my education and come help him in the family firewood business. 3 years down and I’m still on that same lane. Due to the introductions of stoves and more felling activities in the bush, business was no longer booming as it did under my father’s management. My only advantage is that as I now run the business, I give a percentage to my father and the rest is mine to keep.

 

Seyi and I would sit and watch Tunde in amazement as he calmly and thoughtfully enjoyed his smoke in the darkest parts of the grove in no haste. He took his time to pick, crush the weed and expertly craft a well tied ‘enjoyment stick’. It was from watching him almost daily, I learnt to tie my weed as perfectly as I do now. I don’t think that in the whole of the Countryside, there was another person whose expertise in tying matched Tunde. We were head-over-heels for him. There was an already growing competition between the both of us on who would draw his attention first.

 

I was determined to win his attention first and get glued on him.

 

I had a plan. One faithful day, after the struggles of being a struggling business man, I went to the market and afterwards, made the delicious yam porridge my mother made and took it along with me to the Countryside. When Seyi had asked what was in the bag, I told him they were some hand-me-downs my father wanted to send to his younger brother.

 

Immediately we got into the Countryside, I abandoned him and briskly walked to one of Tunde’s spots. I gave a silent prayer to God, asking him to make my plans go as they should. I purchased my condiments on the way here too. I sat down on a slab of stone and began to do my thing.

 

As if by magic, he came along an hour later. He was surprised to see me there and opted to use another spot. It was really difficult to persuade him to stay but I did my assignment and passed with flying colors. A wide, hard, rough and calloused palm was placed in mine as we shook hands and did the introductions. From the handshake, I could tell he was a hard man living a hard life. As we smoked and conversed, my eyes roved his body. Even with the dim light here, his dark skin gleamed like a snake that had just shed its skin. I also saw that he was without shirt today, as usual. He always came on a white singlet, did his thing and put on his shirt after walking a considerable distance from the Countryside.

 

Why?

 

This guy could not be described in a few sentences.

 

After our little chit chat and smoke, I brought out the food and offered him a spoon. As everyone knew, smokers got incredibly hungry after a row. He had shyly declined at first but continued asking about the contents of the food. Minutes later, we were shoveling hot morsels of yam down our throats. The discussions continued. We talked about almost everything: money, women and their perfect schemes of befriending men with fat bank accounts, cars and celebrities. He endlessly gave compliments for my cooking. I was thinking he’d even asked what motivated me to bring food to the hood but he didn’t. From that day onwards, he added me to his list of regards, I had become a member of an Elite list and I continued to bring food too.

 

As at this time, the number of children being kicked out was on the increase. At the slightest suspicion, parents just put together a farewell message and send you off. Some were kicked out because the substance was found on them. Others got kicked out because of the smell of smoke on their clothes. During this period, I was no longer seeing Tunde at the Countryside. I later gathered he traveled to Osogbo, his hometown, for a marriage ceremony. One day, after a hard row at the Countryside, I stumbled on Uluoma, the Igbo wench my father was planning to marry as a third wife. The girl was 6 months older than I was. I had once beaten her up because she had mentioned that I was a smoker and threatened to report me to my father. Today, she saw me, respectfully greeted me and went her way.

 

That same evening, my father, Baba Jide, as he was popularly known, was sitting outside in his usual relaxation spot when I arrived on a motorcycle. He had witnessed my lighter fall out of my pocket as I tried to pay for the bike that brought me home. It wasn’t until he had returned back from visiting his in-laws, Uluoma’s parent, my life changed. He called my mother and I into the sitting-room, counted N20,000 cash from his pocket and asked me to go start my own life. Outside his house!

 

My mother began to cry and question the rationale behind this action. I sat there, cash tucked safely in my pocket while I considered my next options. Baami continued onto saying that I could come home twice a month for reasons only essential to staying alive and I was still in charge of our firewood industry but insisted I must leave his house before 9 that evening because, as he had ominously stated, he didn’t want me to continue my road trip to an early death in his house. Although he didn’t mention it, maybe because my mother was there, I knew his decision to kick me out must have come from discussions with Uluoma and the lighter he’d seen fall from my pocket. As his first son and being the good child I was, he’d thought it wiser to allow me start my life at my own pace and allow me keep the shop as it would end up being my inheritance when he was no more. What if he was just scared that I’d kill him if he took my rights to the business away. From the look of things, I wasn’t disowned. Lucky me.

 

Ti MO ba lo 20k yii lati gba ibon, I reasoned.

 

After informing my step mother and siblings that I was leaving the house, I walked into the night. Was I crying as I did so? No. I was just seeing how exciting and fast-paced my life had become.

 

As I walked towards the junction that led to our house, I became skeptical about my actions. Why did I not gather everyone both family and neighbors, to join me and beg him? I kept on walking till I got to the big wood placed by the left side of the junction. I sat on it, pondering my fate. I couldn’t ask to live with Seyi because he was still under his parent’s roof. There was no other person I could think of moving in with. I rarely made friends, I had no date and to crown it all no member of our extended family lived in this village. As I was with the keys of the shop, my only option would be to pass the night there. I lazily dragged my feet on the sandy path that led to the shop.

 

It wasn’t until I had spent three days sleeping at the shop, using uncut wood and hard planks as beds, my savior showed up.

 

On the evening of the third day, around 5 o’clock, Tunde had walked to the shop and made some purchases. He even left his change. By 7 again, he’d come for some more. I joked that his Iyawo was up to something massive in his kitchen. He laughed, took his package and left. Still leaving his change.  By 10 o’clock when I was safely tucked into my firewood bed. I heard a knock. Hard and firm like the person knew I was inside and expected me to answer.

 

Wọn ti de, I said within myself. The harbingers of evil and everything bad have caught up with me.

 

The person knocked again, this time louder and much insistent now.

 

I looked under the door and from the shadows, I could see only one pair of legs. A one-man robbery squad? Iyalẹnu!

 

A little feminine? Yes, I was. But that wouldn’t be the reason I am unable to take down one man. A man like me. I looked around. I was trying to fathom where I put the slender set of wood my father had asked me to return to the Ijesha man that sold it to him two weeks ago. He complained they were too skinny and would burn fast and customers would reject them. He decided I should be the one to return them because everyone knew the Ijesha man and his bad temper. I didn’t return it. Instead, I hid them and mixed them with the normal size to sell or threw in one or two of it when a customer demanded for jara. If I could lay my hand on one of them now, this thief would pray his limbs were still intact by the time I was done with him.

 

Alas, one of them fell into my hands.

 

I picked it up and stealthily walked towards the door. I stood beside it and began to slowly unlatch it. I took time as I rehearsed my moves: Open, wait for whoever it is to enter, take 2 deep breaths and strike him behind his head. Repeatedly. Open, wait for whoever it is to enter, take 2 deep breaths and strike him behind his head. Repeatedly. Open, wait for whoever it is to enter, take 2 deep breaths and strike him behind his head. Repeatedly. My hands were shaking but I continued.

 

I opened the first door and my assailant cautiously walked in. 2 deep breaths and WHACK!! The slender wood had rested on the back of his head.

 

His shout of pain made me realize it wasn’t any thief. It was Tunde. My Tunde from the Countryside. What I was feeling now was a mixture of shock and joy. I was shocked that I had hit Tunde, something I would never ever think of doing, no matter how irate I had been and I felt joy because at least, it was just him. What if it was really an armed robber? Would I have been left alive to tell the story after delivering this one blow?

 

I ran to his side as his yelps and small cries of pain increased. He was crouched on the floor holding the place where I hit him. I tried getting him to talk but he refused all my advances and even pushed my hands away when I tried to touch him. I put my hand at the back of his neck and continued whispering my apologies, it was then I felt it. Warm and thick. I could even smell it now.

 

Blood.

 

I began to regret my actions. I should have asked who was there, listened to his reply and opened up. Why didn’t he even say something when he was knocking? Why would he come by this time? What did he want?

 

All these thoughts and more ran through my mind as I scampered about the dark shop looking for the old first aid box my father put here in case of small cuts and bruises. It took a while but I finally found it. When I turned around to begin cleaning up his cut, he was on his way out. I ran after him and grasped his right hand with both of my hands, he turned his head to look at me and our eyes met. For more than 10 seconds, we held each other’s gaze. With beads of tears forming at the edges of my eyes, still holding his piercing eyes with mine, I whispered to him in the darkness:

 

 Ma binu. Jọwọ maṣe fi mi silẹ. Maṣe fi mi silẹ bi gbogbo eniyan ti ni.

 

I whispered with all my desperation. He could see my untold pain and confusion as my tears flowed in torrents.

 

And with that, I tamed the lion. We sat under the moonlight and I began shaving round the cut with a very sharp razor blade. I cut in swift and sharp motions and with confirmed expertise like a native priestess cooking Gbetugbetu for one of her numerous customers. Her efficiency, expertise and experience in this field is shown by her unmatched and unrivaled handwork. Such was what I was doing now.

 

 After a small Physical Health Education practical put together by my primary school on identification of objects in the first aid box where I had come first place, my father had gone round town telling everyone I wanted to become a doctor.

 

I wanted to be a dancer.

 

One day, he showed up with the first aid box. I remember collecting a beating, two days after, because of my inability to perform the wonders of the ‘fesaybos’, as he called it, when he had a small wound on his left thumb. I hurriedly learnt how to use it from Aunty Nurse in a few weeks to save me another beating. I cannot forget the sneers and scoffs from my step-siblings when Baami had brought home the box and pronounced my name on it. And, at SS1 when it came to choosing classes, I chose the Sciences.

 

To please Baami.

 

But right now, cleaning and pampering this man was all that mattered to me. Letting him know he was in capable hands that could care for him and do many other things. After cleaning the wound, I tried reaching for the bandage. He must have seen me reach but thought I’d be unable to get it. At that moment he stretched his hand and our hands met. The jolt of electricity from that brief contact could electrocute a baby elephant. He quickly whispered his apologies and I continued my work. The smell from his body…no I will call it his aroma. His aroma was arousing. It smelt raw and seductive.

 

The time was 15 minutes to 1 and we were still on it. We were discussing alongside, of course. His reason to revisit my shop at such a late hour was to get more firewood.  Haaa! Maybe there was a festival at his house that the rest of us weren’t invited to. We kept talking about random things until he dropped the bomb. Why was I sleeping at the shop?

 

Mo ro pe mo ti wa nibi fun oru mẹta? Them don notice me o.

 

I gave him the full scenario of what happened in his absence. He was also at loss to say whether it was the lighter Baba saw or because I beat his intended bride.

 

The wound was properly dressed now. I did it neatly so it would not draw too much attention. I gave him more than what he requested to buy to pacify him for his injury. He silently took it and began walking in the direction of his house. As he walked home, I sat down under the moonlight, wishing and praying that things would go back to normal and I would continue being Baami’s favorite child. My mind continued to wander. Tunde. What was it about this guy that made him seem so untouchable yet very vulnerable?

 

I stood up to lock the doors and go inside. He reappeared.

 

Kini n ṣẹlẹ? Njẹ o gbagbe nkankan??

 

He walked up to me and began to cry.

 

I was shocked to see Tunde cry. He began to tell me of his woes and how life, family and friends had treated him badly. He told of sad tales and memories with hot tears running down his cheeks. I was spellbound as he gave his story, line after line, one regretful experience after another, disappointment in heaps, while standing.  He had even stated that I was the only person he could really call a friend because I was the only person who had thought of feeding him on almost a daily basis. I was proud of my actions. What was the way to man’s heart again? I drew him into my arms as he continued to talk and kept rubbing his back through the thin fabric of his shirt.

 

He soon relaxed and his sobs quietened.

 

When he was calm enough, in his tiniest voice, he requested I walk him home. I declined at first, saying I couldn’t walk back alone and there would not be enough time to sleep. He quickly offered to walk me back as a favor for the plenty jara I added to his purchase.

 

A favor for a favor. Njẹ bi a ṣe n ṣe ni bayi?

 

I accepted his offer and we began to walk.

 

15 minutes into walking quietly, we arrived at his house. It was then, at the entrance of his house, he pleaded with him to become his roommate and best friend.

 

Some straight dey sabi use words sha.

 

I agreed and the next morning, I went to the shop and I returned with my things at night

 

The week after this incident, my father married Uluoma. I guess he had seen me as a threat to the smooth execution of his plans and cleverly got me out of the picture with the lighter he’d seen on me. Smart one.

 

From that day onward, it became Tunde and I. Every corner. Every road. Every store. We went everywhere together. He even began to help at the shop. Anyone who saw us, could say we ran the business together. It was he, a few weeks later, who advised me to buy the business from my father and not wait for it as an inheritance because family and future circumstances could be unpredictable. We bonded so fast and became very close. Asides my sexuality, there was nothing about ourselves we didn’t know about.

 

When I moved in with him, the one room he lived in was a brothel for cockroaches, literally. Everything was everywhere. Half smoked blunts, books, used dishes, 1 brim full ashtrays, dirty and smelling clothes heaped in a pile at a corner.

 

Mo ri iṣẹ, Mo ri …

 

Truthfully, I am one of those gay men who loved everything squeaky clean. It was impossible to live in this house the way I met it. That night, I didn’t sleep. I took out all his belongings in the room and began to sweep. After sweeping, I took one of his old clothes and began to clean the floor. There was no mop. I instructed him to get water from the well in the compound and wash his clothes. I wasn’t going to wash his clothes, not yet, at least and they weren’t entering this house like that. He grumbled but soon did as I was told.

 

Things had gotten sour between us one day. The event led to our first sex.

 

Seyi was aware that I now lived with Tunde. He usually came visiting and even made open advances at him. He only laughed and teased him in return. It was through him Tunde had gotten wind of my sexuality. He hadn’t done or said anything inappropriate after knowing.

 

That fateful afternoon, Seyi had walked to the shop with food for Tunde.

 

Again.

 

The latter only ate the food because I confirmed it was safe. He didn’t like Seyi one bit. He always suspected him of one foul deed or another. On the other hand, Seyi was not even doing anything to repair his marred social image. His running mouth and extremely feminine nature was constantly putting the icing on the cake.

 

This continued ‘food bringing’ was starting to get on my nerves. Was I running a creche and needed a nanny? This girl better stop o. Aunty da o. Ṣe o fẹ lati gba ọkunrin ti mo ti jiya fun? Ṣe o fẹ ṣiṣe?

 

As he walked into the shop, I told him that my father would be coming to inspect the merchandise in the shop today. Knowing the hatred my father had for him, he hurriedly dropped the food and gave hand signals of who it belonged to and quickly walked away. He was so gullible.

 

I picked up the cooler. I kept it on the table and went in search of the rusty iron spoon we had in this shop. Upon my return, the contents of the cooler were well fried turkey parts? Ṣe eyi jẹ aṣiwere? Or was it a love potion that would only be activated with turkey parts?

 

This pikin don go kill her papa turkey because of man. Iru aanu!

 

I took a piece out of it, bit and began to chew slowly. The juices dripping out of the meat and onto my taste buds was heaven.

 

Tunde was looking at me as I ate. He asked for a piece.

 

No, I barked. Ti o ba nifẹ oogun, jẹ ki o mu mi.

 

I ate everything, washed the cooler and handed it to Seyi when he returned. The first thing he asked was if Tunde enjoyed the meal. I threw a scornful yes at him, looking him in the eyeballs to test my charm theory. We chatted for a while before he called me aside and asked to sleep at my place that night because his mother had a visitor and she didn’t want any disturbance.

 

Alejo ke? Ni akoko yii? Nibo ni baba rẹ wa? Ṣé ó mọ àlejò yìí?

 

I explained that the house wasn’t mine and I had to seek Tunde’s consent on his behalf. Walking to him to table Seyi’s request, I was afraid. This man could be very unpredictable.

 

“Lọ sọ fún un pé mo sọ bẹ́ẹ̀ kọ́, kò sì sí ohun tí yóò yí ọkàn mi padà”, he said even before I opened my mouth to start my intended recitation. It was clear he had overheard our conversation.

 

After much pleading from my end, he agreed with the condition that everyone would stay in their lane. Immediately it was 8 o’clock, Seyi and I began walking and chatting on the way home, while Tunde grumpily lingered behind.

 

It was when we got home I realized he wasn’t here for an ordinary sleep over. Ọmọkùnrin yìí ti múra sílẹ̀.

 

He had come with uncooked rice and ingredients for Jollof rice. It was all hidden in the bag he carried. He even brought some remaining turkey parts to enliven the rice. Tunde and I had thought it was just clothes in the bag. He walked into the kitchen and began to cook.

 

Ti ko ba gba okunrin mi loni, ko ni se e lojo miran. I felt so bitter.

 

When Tunde saw that he brought food items, he totally dropped his guard. He began to make small jokes with him and they were laughing. Laughing like old buddies who reunited a few days ago. Laughing without my consent. He was washing the pot they wanted to use now. Tunde, who would never raise a finger to help me with kitchen chores in this house, was washing pots for a stranger in my…our kitchen and even offering to help him grind onions and pepper with the grinding stone. Sorrow. What wouldn’t food do to a man? Tunde is a fool. Isn’t this the same Seyi he warned me to be wary of severally? He’d forgotten about always being alert. I even tried coughing and pretending I was cold to draw his attention. He had totally forgotten about me because of rice and Turkey.

 

Ti ko ba gba okunrin mi loni, ko ni se e lojo miran, I said again, now worried.

 

Let this be the last time Seyi would step foot in this house, I warned myself.

 

After we had our dinner and finished smoking a few times, we retired to bed. We all had to squeeze ourselves into Tunde’s medium-sized foam. It was comfortable till all the drama started.  At about around 1, I started hearing whispers.

 

…asleep. Don’t worry. Wa gùn. Mo ṣe ileri pe iwọ yoo nifẹ rẹ. Don’t be afraid. It is like a woman’s own.

 

He was trying to force, abi na coerce Tunde into doing the unthinkable. Yes, it was unthinkable because I, as his roommate and closest buddy, was yet to take him down that lane. What gave Seyi the belief that he was the right person for the job? What even made him think Tunde would do it? Kini o jẹ ki o ro pe eyi yoo rọrun bi ABC?

 

I continued listening, irate. Tunde wasn’t saying much in reply. He was just removing his hand when he touched him. Did Seyi think I wasn’t aware of everything going on now? They have become a bit noisy now.  I am a fool. Mo da ara mi lẹbi. I should have concurred when Tunde had said no. Look what helping a friend has brought me. What if Tunde’s defenses become weaker? Bayi wipe ko so nkankan, silence actually meant consent, ko ṣe bẹ? Nítorí náà, òun yóò kọ́kọ́ tọ́ ọ wò níwájú mi? I felt so bad. I could only lie here and watch, listen rather, as the worst happened.

 

Why couldn’t people respect themselves? Even if you saw yourself as a low-quality merchandise sold in Balogun market, at least, respect those around you. How would you go to a friend’s house and harass his roommate? What image are you depicting of yourself and your innocent friend? Ṣe o ko bẹru tabi tiju? Are you mad? Do you think it is everyone who can close their mouths and forget what had transpired between both of you? Even if he is lenient enough to allow you to get away with your shameful acts, your friend has to bear the cross and receive the punishment, if any, when you are gone. Iyẹn jẹ iwa buburu ti aṣẹ ti o ga julọ.

 

It was at this point Tunde finally said something. In a little whisper, he asked him to leave him alone because he was straight. Seyi had given a choked laugh before calling him Mr. Straight. Even if I was as angry as anything else, the name made me almost erupt in laughter. I held it in. Baba, maṣe jẹ ki ohun kan lọ ni ọna ti ko yẹ, I prayed.

 

It was as if the heavens awaited that prayer.

 

“O tọ ṣugbọn awọn ori ọmu rẹ duro ṣinṣin ati pe o n pa oju rẹ ti o si n gbadun rẹ”.  Seyi had said this like a retired prostitute who still believed in her expertise. “What of this one?”, he asked. “O tobi o”.   That reply was just coming out of his mouth when a muffled scream followed.

 

Tunde punched him. O ti gbe ọwọ rẹ nibiti a ko fẹ, I guess.

 

Before I knew what was happening, it had turned into a fight. No, a beating, I mean. He was pummeling him everywhere. What should I do? Ṣe Mo tẹsiwaju lati dibọn pe Mo sun or try to separate them? I could hear Seyi trying to suppress his cries and plead with him not to allow me to wake up and find out what had happened.

 

 Lootọ?

 

 I had gotten my answer. Tunde could beat him all he wanted. Good riddance! There was really nothing I could do.

 

A moment later, I felt Tunde’s palm tapping me roughly to wake up. I sat up immediately, looking at him. Asise! I shouldn’t have. The next thing I felt was a slap on my face… Long story short, he’d accused me of conniving with my friend to rob him of his innocence and had also given me the beating of my life.

 

He beat me like one would beat one’s child. Hard but with care. He didn’t use his fists or rough me up as he did Seyi. He used a hanger and was mindful of where he delivered his strokes. One could say he beat me the way a man would discipline his wife. I could have fought back. I could have moved out. I could have insulted him. I did none of these. I allowed him to beat me to his satisfaction. Is there anything that could be worse than what has happened now? Yes. Further struggle with him and he could have the whole village here in seconds. I went back to bed and cried. As for Seyi, he was kicked out after receiving his beating. People do not really know when it is enough. If my friend had taken a hint from the beginning, this disgrace that also came with a beating would have never occurred. I also had my fault too. Tunde was already aware of my sexuality. If I had stood up and warned Seyi to desist from such acts with my roommate, all of us would be sleeping peacefully right now. Deep down, even if I was afraid to admit it, I wanted to see if Tunde would fall for Seyi’s advances. I thought that would be the greenlight I needed. All I could feel now was shame, pain and regret. E dupe o, Seyi.

 

As I was still deep in thoughts, Tunde walked in and sat on the bed.  I took a glance at him and changed my sleeping position to face the wall. I didn’t want him to see my face or know that my spirit was broken. A few minutes later, his hand snaked its way round my waist and his chest was against my back. I could feel his breath on my neck.

 

“What are you doing?”, I asked.

 

Ọkan idanwo lẹhin miiran. Baba, Oluwa, gba ọmọ rẹ là. His embrace was warm and comforting. I was tempted to remain in it forever.

 

“I am sorry”, he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you but Seyi kept asking me to keep what was happening between us a secret from you. I wanted to wake you up so as to expose him only to find out that you were awake all through it all. I felt betrayed”, he said with a sigh afterward. “I didn’t touch him because of you”.

 

It was at this moment I understood why many were willing to lose a friend for the sake of another friend. Tunde was aware it would end like this. He knew Seyi’s visit wasn’t any ordinary visit. He had come with a mission and Tunde was prepared to spoil it and make me see Seyi for who he really was. He was actually looking out for me and had my interests at heart.

 

Ore mi leleyi. This is how friendship should be. Proving your loyalty and earning your spot.

 

I couldn’t see myself betraying him. I couldn’t imagine him sad and uncomfortable because of me, my actions or people I had around me. I was here to bring peace and joy to his world. I almost lost him today because of a friend but I am happy I didn’t. Right now, I am more than willing to lose Seyi for Tunde. Wait a moment…If Tunde was willing to use himself as bait in Seyi’s plan, as exclusive as it was, it meant he felt something, no matter how little it was, for me.

 

I turned around to face him, with his hand still wrapped around my waist.  Our eyes met and I could see into his soul. Everything about and within him seemed so bare and vulnerable yet locked away and dangerous. What a puzzle of a man! Whatever he was, I wanted him that way. He was so ideal, so complete and so perfect. I continued staring into his eyes, still sandwiched in his embrace. I took in all the enthralling details of his face and I fell for him over and over again. His smooth and blazing dark facial skin with matching dark eyes. His full and natural pink lips accentuated more by regular burns from smoking. His mustache looked like a handful of hay scattered above his lips. The marks and scars here and there. Everything seemed to beckon to me to come closer and closer. With each passing second, our heads moved closer and closer, closing the tiny space between our faces, our lips almost touching. “Jọwọ, jẹ ki n fi ẹnu kò ọ, Mr. Straight”, I whispered. And with that, he sealed our lips.

 

We kissed slowly as if asking ourselves if we were ready for the energy we intend putting on this table. His hand around my waist soon tightened. My left hand had found its way to his broad and hairy chest. We weren’t just kissing, our souls were bonding. We were accessing realms unknown and creating beauty in its purest form. Minutes had gone by now and our lips were still glued. He was piercing the deepest and darkest parts of my soul and resetting my thinking faculty.

 

I couldn’t imagine myself without him in my life, business, personal space or any other thing, for that matter. My brain was basking in his sheer glory, drinking a bit of him. To be honest, I didn’t love this man. I revered him. He was like a deity, an ancient supernatural being full of strength, wisdom and majesty, to be worshiped and eulogized daily. By now, our bodies had melded into one entangled heap. It had turned into a competition, no one willing to allow the other outdo him. It was a raw, sweaty and naked affair. Sigh after sighs of pure delight kept escaping my mouth while he confirmed the expertise of my hands with soft masculine groans. It was heaven. He knew the exact place to touch as when he was needed and how to touch it. Igbadun fẹ pa mi. Our clothes were already off by now. Our sweaty and needy skin could be seen glistening in the darkness.

 

Mr. Straight nuzzled my neck with his mouth, us still stroking and fondling our cocks. Kissing, stroking, fondling cocks, nuzzling necks. I now believed he was not going to just fuck my mouth or ass. We were making love. Hot, sweet, sensuous, tingly, mind bending love. He kissed one of my nipples, licked it, sucked on it, and went to the other one. Kissed, licked down my chest to my stomach, stroking me still as I stroked him, and he tweaked a wet nipple, rolled it between his thick thumb and forefinger. Then the other. Moving down, he tongued my navel. I was breathing hard, humping up and down on the bed, gasping, trembling. It felt so good. He kissed my cockhead, right on the slit, tongued off the flowing pre-cum, took the crown in his mouth, licked and sucked; went right down to my pubes on my 6.5 ” hard, throbbing cock, massaged my balls. He worked his head up and down. I moved with his mouth, humping my hips up and down. He squeezed my nuts gently but firmly, slurped up my cock and let it snap back against my belly with a wet smack.

 

He lay back beside me. “Get over me and do me. Do me what you want. Jẹ ki inu mi dun”.

 

An invitation to worship his strong, muscular, black, wiry-haired body, his big cock and balls? Ṣe Mo nilo ọkan? I rolled to him, kissed him on the mouth again, tasting me on his lips and tongue whenever he slid his tongue along mine. Stroking his cock, feeling his balls, I went down over his neck to a nipple. Kissed, licked, sucked it, the other one, back and forth, in between them on his chest hair. I kissed, licked his body to his navel, and had to move his long, wet, hard cock to the side. I tongued his navel for a while, worked my tongue down his treasure trail into his wiry pubes, licked the pre-cum drooling from his cock slit, tasted it, wrapped it in my lips, tongued more pre from his wide cock eye, gently fondling his balls, brushing a fingertip on his perineum, pushing more pre-cum up his long shaft over my lips, onto my tongue, slurping it. I loved my handwork.

 

I worked my lips down his slimy rod inch by inch, writhing my tongue on the thick-vein along the underside of his hard cock to take more in my mouth. The bulbous head touched my throat. There were still at least two, maybe three inches beyond my tightly clasping lips. I milked his pre-cum onto my tongue, into my throat, but I could get no more of his long, thick cock deeper into my throat. We were at my cock limit in my mouth. Still massaging his big nuts in their wiry-haired sack, feeling his nipples, rubbing his chest, rippling muscular stomach, I clasped my lips tight, conceived my face cheeks and slid my mouth up his shaft until only the head was between my lips, his slit feeding me more of his slick, lubricating, tasty juice. Hands, mouth working slowly, lovingly I sucked his big cock. He put his big hands gently on the sides of my head, face and rocked slowly up and down with my mouth movements. We were fucking his cock and my face, together. I was loving the feelings, tastes, sounds, smells. Hard cock, veiny, slimy pre-cum, wiry hair, big but gentle hands on me, tasty juice, slurping squishing, cum odor, crotch musk, our mingled sweat. Igbadun koni pami o.

 

I reached into my backpack along the side wall, fished out a bottle of Astroglide(TM), and another stick of Loud -the good stuff- to serve as poppers. Still sucking his cock, feeling him with one hand, I gave him the bottle of Astroglide. He lubed his fingers with it. I kept sucking, sweat dripping off the end of my nose, face, chin. In fact, sweat had sheened on both our bodies. A ko tii bẹrẹ awọn.

 

As he sat up from his lying position, I positioned myself, legs open wide, his cock rotated in my mouth as I sucked and bobbed my head up and down. He slid his middle finger up and down my asscrack, lubing it. He pressed with his fingertip. I lit my smoke and took two drags, concentrated on relaxing, letting his finger into me. In it went, slowly past my sphincter, deeper and deeper. His hand pressed to my splayed open crack, finger as far as it would go up in me. He wriggled his finger, opening me more. He pressed the tip on my prostate. I felt like I was pissing. I exuded so much pre-cum it stringed to the mattress. I moaned.

 

He began to finger me. A little later, he eased his finger back, slid his index finger with his middle finger. I was in cloud 24 as he slid both fingers in this time. Till now, I am unable to describe what I felt and how I felt as Tunde used his fingers on me. All I can say is that Loud was really the deal for sex with a man like him.

 

“Oh, oooh, yeah,” I breathed thickly, mumbling again filled with his long, fat cock.

 

“Umnh huh,” he agreed. ” Soro si o. Sọ lori rẹ.”

 

Oh my Gawddddd!!!! This guy could also talk dirty. Ahhh… O ti pari mi.

 

“Fuck,” I gurgled, slimy pre-cum, saliva dripping from my mouth onto his cock and pubes.

 

“Yeah, more,” he urged me, now with three fingers – middle, index and ring – sliding back and forth in my opening hole, spreading me.

 

“Hmmmmm,” I hummed on his cock.

 

“Ooooh, unnngh, o ti dara ju,” he grunted. His cock thickened, lengthened, throbbed in my mouth, a blob of creamy, thick cum shot onto my tongue, coated the back of my throat.

 

He pulled his cock out quickly, leaving my mouth empty except for the wad of cum gurgling in my throat. I hacked it up onto my tongue, tasted it, opened my mouth showing it to him, then swallowed deeply relishing the taste.

 

“Umnh,” he moaned, “That was close. Ṣii awọn ẹsẹ rẹ ni bayi.”

 

I rolled over onto my back, spread my legs, lifted them, bent my thighs back, and opened my cheeks with both hands, breathing slowly. He sat between my legs grinning down at me. ” Eyi yoo dara pupọ,” he said. He fumbled around some for his trousers as I lay there fully exposed to him. I rubbed my lube slick, crinkly assfolds, watching him. His hand came out of his pants pocket with a condom. He ripped open the foil, tossed it aside, checked the latex ring for the right direction of roll, capped his mushroom crown with the rubber, and worked it down his shaft. I watched in fascination as he seated the end of the roll against his wiry-haired cock base, stretched out the reservoir nipple end to be sure it was at max for reception of his cumload. He squirted a big string of the Astroglide onto the top of his rubber-covered cuntpleaser and a handful into his cupped palm. He massaged the lube all around his shaft, then smeared the excess into my crack, concentrating on my asshole.

 

He slid his slick middle finger into me, checking to see if I had closed too much. He wriggled the finger around, preparing me for his monster cock. It looked even bigger to me now. The cock I had just sucked, the cock that had just fucked my mouth, gave me just a sample of the cum he was going to deliver to me – his babymaking batter. I trembled in anticipation more than reluctance, fear or any other emotion other than the love for Tunde. He eased his finger out of me.

 

” Ṣetan?” he asked.

 

I agreed, “but just put the head against me. Let me tell you when to put it in.”

 

“Ok,” he grunted, smiling down at me. He guided his thick knob to my hole.

 

I let my asscheeks close on it, held it there. I quickly took some drags from my fast burning Loud and allowed it to wash over me.

 

He took the smoke and took drags too, his cock still wedged right at my pussy door.

 

I took two more drags, put it off and laid it on the mattress.

 

“Ok, now,” I said.

 

“Bayi?” he asked.

 

“Now,” I said.

 

“Bayi?”

 

“Now, please.” Why would he want to tease me now of all times?

 

I shifted my hips, rocked them, lifted them and seated myself on my spine, ready.

 

He pushed forward.

 

“Unnngh,” I grunted.”

 

“Aaaaaah,” he moaned.

 

“Unh, ah, aaah, oh yeah,” I agreed.

 

The knob was in me. My hole was breached.

 

He put a hand on my chest, the other on one of my buttcheeks.

 

I rocked just a bit, up, down, side to side, up, down.

 

His long, fat cock slid right up into me, the thick head making way for his big shaft.

 

” Ṣe o jẹ irora?” he asked, pausing, resting over me, taking my cock in his hand and stroking it slowly.

 

“No,” I grunted.

 

“More?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” I breathed.

 

He smiled and pushed in.

 

He pulled back slowly, pushed in, back, in, back, in, with each stroke more of his long cock went into me, deeper, deeper, the head rubbing over my prostate, my pre-cum flowing again. He stroked my cock, leaned over and kissed me on the lips. I opened my mouth to take his tongue and give him my tongue. He bottomed out, his wiry pubes pressed against my ballsack, his balls resting in the crack of my lube-slick ass. ” O gba gbogbo rẹ,” he said.

 

” Gba mi ki o beere fun mi and make me yours forever,” I pleaded, humping my hips up and down.

 

Like he needed an invitation at that point. He started sliding his cock back and forth at me. I rocked my hips up and down to meet his increasing thrusts. He stroked my cock. Kissed me. Sucked my nipples. Fucked me. We fucked together.I started cumming through his stroking fist onto my belly. My ass clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed on his pistoning cock. His cock thickened, lengthened, throbbed, jerked. I could feel the cum filling the rubber, the heat of it, heard the squishiness, felt and smelled our sweat together as I moaned and writhed, begged him to fuck me more. He slammed into my pussy, jetting out more wads of cum with each drive to the hilt up my hole. He let down on top of me, his long, fat cock still up on me, all the way, throbbing, flexing.

 

He got up on me, sat his big butt on my chest, peeled off the full condom, and fed me his cock. I kissed, licked, sucked it, cleaning him, tasting his cum. Rolling his cock out of my mouth with a hand, I grinned at him, his cum coating my lips, chin, tongue, and said, ” Mo fe gbogbo re. I love your cum.” He laughed, upended the rubber as I held my tongue out like a little bird being fed by the mother or father bird. He poured the cum out of the rubber into my mouth. I took all of it, rolled it around on my tongue, tasted it, chewed on it, and swallowed some. Opened my mouth, showed him the white elixir on my tongue, closed my mouth and swallowed, once, twice, three times, gulping his sweet jism into my stomach. Licked my lips. He leaned over and kissed me on the mouth, tasting the remnants of his cum, swapping spit with me, so I could have another taste too.

 

Immediately we separated, he fell asleep and I was left alone with my thoughts. I was overwhelmed by the sexual release that shot through me yet I was ashamed of what I let this stranger do to me. How could I have allowed him to have his way with me at the first trial? What happened to “No-sex-on-first-date?” This clearly was no date but I was starting to feel cheap and used. He had slept off without cuddling me or even trying to help me clean up. Maybe it was his way of telling me nothing goes for nothing.  Cleaning his house, cooking for him and becoming a nasty whore in his bed by night was my rent, I guess. Does he even care for me? Is this how it will be now? To make issues worse and uglier, I bottomed for him! Kini mo nro? By now, tears had begun to well up in my eyes. Emi kii ṣe aṣiwere? Why would I allow myself to get down with a straight man in the first place? These men don’t know what they really want. It was my position to safeguard myself and my secrets. How could I let him use and abuse me in this manner? I should have said no from the beginning. I shouldn’t have moved in with him at all. If he could beat me up because he thought I was part of Seyi’s plot, what would be my fate now that I have accomplished the mission on Seyi’s behalf? He would detest me and begin to see me as dirty and demonized. How could I make him understand the concept of love between two men? I know he would never be himself around me. Ọlọrun, I am ashamed of myself! Why did you make me bottom? Why did you make me crave another man’s touch and the comforting thrusts of his hard organ inside me? I should have stood up and asked him to bend over. I should have said I have never been under any man and asked him to turn for me. Over familiarity breeds contempt, I don waka enter. He had gotten what he wanted, I was of no value to him anymore. Hot tears ran down my eyes.

 

” Pa ẹnu ẹlẹgbin rẹ”, my brain chided with a loud voice. “Why have you chosen to ridicule me today”? It asked.

 

“se yẹyẹ rẹ? Bawo”?

 

What is wrong in being bottom? Why have you chosen to deny what you crave because of what people will say and think? Do you know what they do behind closed doors? Do you know who they become once they are alone? Do not hate being bottom because you think you are just there to be penetrated. Or do you think there is an unsaid and unseen stigma attached to it? Or because you cannot fill your underwear with a pair of sizable buttocks. Does it make you feel less a man? Do you hate it because at the end you feel used and abandoned? All these and more are what you have brought upon yourself”.  Fara balẹ, jẹ ki Jesu lo o and listen to what I have to say.

 

First off, why is every bottom in the community involved in prostitution? Sorry, double dating, as they would call it.  You are correct to argue that even tops double date and do it more often than not. But do they suffer the consequences you suffer? A top might date 3 other men asides his real date yet he has not seen half of what you’ve seen dating just two. A top who double dates might not even be able to cater for all the needs, both financial and otherwise, of his dates but he is still seen and hailed as a real man. A hero of some sort. A bottom who is 10 times richer, more hardworking and lives better than that top mistakenly, na mistake I talk o, mistakenly dates two men and the whole community tags him a slut. We are on his neck. We are ready to crown him King of Boys and rubbish his societal image. We are eager to overlook the fact that he is actually doing the man’s job in the lives of his lovers and that the only difference is his role. This is our first and biggest mistake. Double dating dents your image before friends and partners, especially when you have been caught repeatedly. It portrays you in the light of one who is never content and unknown to you, people no longer trust you. They cannot trust you with their man, their money, their secrets and whatever. What is a life without trust? What is a community without trust? Is a place where we cannot trust ourselves safe? Make we try dey leave man dey focus on our lives. Your life is bigger and much more expensive than those fine boys you are running around for. Are you aware that the rich attract only the rich? Na money dem dey take find money. You will only get a rich man who will cherish and love you when he sees you are not just all about the sex and glamor. Do you want to work hard and build a life? Do you want to inspire people and forge long-lasting friendships that are not based on sex or money? Do you dream to make the world, even if not the world, our community, a better place by first learning good manners and correct social etiquette? Congratulations, my friend, you have found the road to wealth.

 

 

 

Next, bottoms are easily accessible. You find them in any and everywhere. From Eko Hotel to Oshodi bus stop and any other place in between, they are well represented. You can find them in local bars, seedy brothels and even on the streets hawking their merchandise. Bottoms have made themselves easily accessible to any and everyone and slowly they have lost their worth and have become as tasteless as inferior Chinese rice. I have heard the story of a birthday party where all the guests were bottoms. Yes, of course, tops were invited but did they show up? No. Those people and their shakara!   Imagine in a birthday party where there was free fuck and booze, no top was in attendance. You that they should be using torchlight to look for, you have marked the present. You find bottoms scurrying around the city like rabbits in search of whatever they are in search of. Have you ever seen a prostitute who is top? Pray you meet one then you will understand the meaning of standard and efficiency.  As a bottom that knows his worth, phone calls are not enough to bring you down to a man’s house. They have to backup the calls with something naa. We have cultivated the annoying habit of showing up where they are not wanted, going over to places where they are not needed or invited. Kini o n ṣẹlẹ ninu ile rẹ? Njẹ ojo n ṣubu ni ibi idana ounjẹ rẹ? The answer is simple: Bottoms are never content. Na man? Na money? Na penis? They are greedy with everything. If we could learn contentment, a lot will change for us.

 

Third, is it that the larger fraction of uneducated queer folk are usually bottoms. It is very difficult to find a bottom with a sound mind and pristine intellectual faculty on a normal day. They can barely communicate in proper English. My people, the list is endless. What of dressing and physical appearance? ZERO! You see a top, or be even better top o, trying to make himself an eye candy. Hitting the gym, eating good food, wearing nice clothes and perfume, trying to put his apartment in order and expand his bank account. You, bottom wey be the koko of the whole matter, the life wire, yours is to wear one stupid bum short and start parading the streets aimlessly. Your main problem is that N500 Chike will give you once una run matter finish. Na that one you go take enter bike go Peter house. If Peter do finish, you dey go Emma house and you spend your whole life chasing dicks round the city.  Why won’t they treat you with contempt? Why can’t you sit and think of how you can invite someone over and pay their fare? Na only your own dem go dey pay? Remember say ashawo nor be work, na management. It can expire at any time and for any reason.

 

Again, the hardworking bottoms in Nigeria nor reach two again. The last two are reading this story now. No matter how innocent they seem, they all pray to stumble upon a shortcut. Which shortcut your papa leave for ground before e die? Why have you refused to sweat for your daily bread? Why you dey allow devil deceive you say one man go just love you and want to lavish all his wealth on you just like that? Every good thing takes time to form but bottoms are willing to go the extra mile to get their wishes granted today. Kelly nor love you, na Kelly matter you wan die put. When you tell him, as his friend, that he is being used, he wants to be used till he is useless. Help me go my boyfriend house tell am say…they go there, fuck your man and steal on top. Don’t take my man’s call…they will steal his number from your phone and the rest is history. Bottoms and lying, 5&6. Stubbornness and betrayal, count them in. Gossiping, wetin dem say you say I talk, give them the award. An over inflated ego that would lead to quarreling and separation among tight friends, them sabi that one. Bottoms are controversial people. They are like the proverbial tortoise wey nor dey finish for story.

 

But in this fight, they are the real heroes. Their stories, their struggles, their battles and their victory will inspire generations unborn. The tops do not have much to do as they can easily blend in with the opposing body. Your woes and wins as an effeminate man, your gains and losses as a man spending his life pleasing another man in a constantly evolving society, your pains, both physical and emotional, your disappointment from friends, family and loved ones and how you overcame is what will be sought after when you leave.  If you regret being bottom, your excuse should be that you haven’t met the man who hits it like you want and you have seen the strength that lies within that small body of yours.

 

 

 

And from that day onward, I had taken down all my fears and inhibitions for Mr. Straight. I wanted someone I could run the race of life with. Even if he was straight, he wasn’t getting married any time soon. Apart from Suliat, the girl we pay to come do our washing, no other girl dey reach our house. For visitation or any reason whatsoever. I wasn’t even asking him for sex these days too. Since our first time, we’ve only had it thrice and they were all unplanned and we never spoke about it by morning. Did I enjoy them? Yes, but I was fine with denying myself the joys of whatever happened between us so he would feel comfortable and secure with me.

 

 

 

I want to enjoy him while I can. I saw him as my boyfriend secretly. I couldn’t mention it to him because these guys had a phobia for romantic entanglements and commitment. I don’t want to scare him away with the “what-are-we-now” question? I want everything between us to be smooth and when we leave ourselves someday, we would leave with smiles and a fond memory.

 

All I want is someone to dream and build with. A man to plan and achieve goals together. Someone to do all the freaky and nasty sh*t I’ve ever imagined with. A safe haven

of friendship in the times of scandal, malicious gossip and crisis. My list was short. I was not being too greedy as I did not add physique, pocket size and bank accounts status. All those would be the jara, as I believe, God would throw in for me like I did for my customers at my firewood industry. Life is short. Entanglements, commitments and definition of relationships didn’t matter. I was content with whatever he was ready to offer.

 

 

 

                                                                                               ***

 

Those were still my thoughts even as he came to me to ask me for N300 for bike fare to where he had an interview. We hadn’t discussed much about his job description. I thought I should wait till after the interview before doing my findings. I didn’t want to unnerve him with my persistence for tangible information and overt curiosity.  I was just glad that my Mr. Straight was finally getting serious with his life and future. Getting this job could be the breakthrough he, we, needed. The only thing I can correctly say is that no matter how insignificant his job was or how meager the salary was, I wanted him working and doing something for himself. It is not that the proceeds from my firewood business could not take care of us adequately but I wanted him out of the box and facing a larger world on a daily basis.

 

I knew the 1k I gave him might not even be enough to eat something after his transportation and it worried me. I wish I could do more. I wish I could miraculously turn our lives around and leave his beautiful smile plastered on his face every day and everywhere. But I was also content in cheering him up from the sidelines. I was grateful to be in his life assisting in the little way I can. I believe that with time and God’s grace, we could really improve our living status. I will continue holding onto my belief.

 

It was this same afternoon that Johnson had invited me over to come “assist him with something”. I had decided to go because Johnson tipped well. We knew each other from Seyi and since then, he has been on my case. I’ll finally tell him I had a boyfriend today. I hope that would prevent the rascal from misbehaving.

 

Who knew this was the interview Mr. Straight was telling me about? I didn’t know it was a hookup he was going to. I wouldn’t… I would still have given him money after all, we were just roommates. I didn’t want commitment and any form of entanglement with him because of this. I didn’t want him to lie. I didn’t want to have any reason to doubt his character and distrust him. I wanted him to be plain and easily accessible to me. Any time, any day. But this? This? It has broken me and left me scarred. I should go. I should leave and end this disrespect. I should leave and focus on my life. The one I was expending my energy on wasn’t seeing me as anything.

 

Written By:

          FitGiant