The LGBT community members in Nigeria should have their rights to love and live recognized. That’s not arguable. There are all sorts of noble reasons why this should be, and that’s why we have NGOs like TIERs there, fighting the good fight.

But listen, let me tell you something, right now, I have an urgent reason why Nigeria needs to get off her fat ass and acknowledge my right to be. For you to understand this reason and its urgency, let me first tell you a story.

I live in a compound where all my neighbours are young and upwardly mobile. The tenancy is also predominantly Igbo, and as is wont to happen, a camaraderie was birthed amongst the tenants, one which comprises of exchanges of kitchen materials, gatherings at the backyard to gist and take on some evening fresh air, and sleepovers – you know, when Emeka’s girlfriend visits for an overnight waka, and Emeka’s roommate Chidi goes over to Nonso’s apartment to sleep, in order to afford Emeka some privacy.

Now, a friend of mine visited from Port Harcourt. He had a wedding to attend on a Saturday and he came around on Thursday. When you live alone, you tend not to realize how much you miss steady companionship until a good friend comes along to stay over. After Flakes (he’s written for Kito Diaries) dropped in, there was banter, laughter, raiding of each other’s hard drives, and the requisite admonishment about how I’m the only gay man he knows who doesn’t cook. It was such fun, even though PHCN threatened to crush our spirits on Friday when they ceased the light for several hours and my comic books were promptly converted to hand fans.

On Friday evening, we’d just returned from dinner and a haircut, and because it was such a lovely evening and there was the threat of rain in the atmosphere, we took up seats right there in the front yard, and alternated between conversing and pinging away on our individual phones.

And then I got a whatsapp message. The sender was – let’s call him Tunde. Tunde is a hunk with one of the softest lips I’ve ever kissed and a manic sex drive that often leaves me sore, deliciously so, at the end of our infrequent sexual encounters. Yes, we have a booty call relationship, and we hadn’t made a connection in a long time.

Actually, I hadn’t made any connection with anyone in a long time. I was virtually one dry spell away from a revirginization. But hey, pornhub and the likes of Addicktion, Hot Rod and Sebastian Cross have been of immense help in keeping mind, soul and body intact.

What’s the name of that your street? The whatsapp message read.

Feeling my heartbeat pick up a slightly faster rhythm, I typed an answer back to him. I waited a beat after it was indicated that he’d received and read the message, and then I typed, Why do you ask?

Wanted to be sure that I’m close by, he responded. I’m delivering some stuff to a friend in your neighbourhood.

Okay, I replied.

Are you home? He wanted to know.

A slow Cheshire cat smile spread across my lips as I typed back, Yes.

Okay, I’m coming over, he replied.

The angels broke out into a chorus in my heart as I read those words. Bitch, it’s time to get some –

“Why are you smiling?”

Like a CD player scratching its way to an interrupted halt, my thoughts of elation wilted at the intrusion of my friend’s voice. As I turned to him, the first thought that popped into my head was: Oh, you’re still here!

I’d plum forgotten that I was home, but not home alone. Chai! Small cry began to hungry me to cry. How did I get myself into this potentially awkward situation where a booty call is coming over and there’s a third wheel around?

As despair began to nip at the edges of my mind, I quickly pushed the thoughts away. There was no use worrying when I wasn’t even sure Tunde would still come around. This new uncertainty crept into my mind when at the crack of yet another thunder, the sky opened up and a heavy drizzle began cascading down to the earth, driving Flakes and I up from our seats and into the house.

Ensconced inside the house, we chatted for a bit. And then Flakes wanted to take his bath. He took up his towel and disappeared into the bathroom. I was tinkering at my laptop when a knock sounded on the door. I impatiently got to my feet; I’d been working on a blog post and I wasn’t pleased with the interruption. I was opening the door with the mind of brusquely attending to whoever my caller was.

And then my heart stopped momentarily and then picked up a 100-metre dash immediately afterward.

For standing on my threshold, looking incredibly sexy with his rain-slicked body, his white T-shirt plastered all over well-defined pecs and soft lips glistening from the dewy touch of the rain was Tunde.

He came! That was the thought that raced through my mind upon seeing him. He actually came!

“Yes, of course I did,” he replied, startling me with the realization that I’d said those words out loud.

“Come on in,” I said, making way for him to step in. “I didn’t think you’d still come, with the rain falling.”

“I just had to see you.”

Yea, of course you did, I thought with a knowing smile.

“Look at how wet you are,” I said, going to him and patting his chest on the pretext that I was feeling for the level of the dampness of his clothes, when in fact, I was tapping much needed current. “Chai! Pele!” I commiserated. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes.”

He chuckled a she grabbed my hand and pulled me into his damp embrace. Two seconds ago, I was nice and dry. Now, with his arms swallowing me up, his body moulding itself against mine, I was nice and wet. His lips – those soft lumps of gorgeousness – sought mine and captured them in a kiss that made me shiver – whether out of the chill of his touch or the heat of his passion, my brain cells were scrambling to decipher.

Then he pushed me back and reached for the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head. He stilled when Flakes walked into the room.

Oh shit! I groaned inwardly, suddenly remembering Flakes’s existence again.

A quick awkward moment passed as Flakes looked at Tunde, and then Tunde looked at me.

Oh right! Introductions!

“Uh, Tunde, this is my friend, Flakes. Flakes, Tunde.”

“Nice to meet you,” they both chorused. Their handshake was fleeting.

Tunde was suddenly no longer removing his shirt and had fished out his phone from his pocket to make a call. Flakes was puttering about close to his bag, changing into his night clothes. And I stood helplessly there, wanting to cry out in anger at my village witches.

It registered late, but soon I realized that Tunde was making a call to someone about spending the night at his/her place.

“Did you cook anything?” I heard him say into the phone.

Say what?! Oh no, mister. No way are you getting out of here without giving me some sugar.

I turned a pointed look at Flakes. When he caught my eye, I gave him a ‘let’s go outside’ nod at the door. The bitch gave a small knowing smile – that smile that seemed to ask, ‘Is it you or your konji that I’m about to talk to?’ – and sashayed toward the door.

Once we were outside, I gave it to him straight. “That guy is an off-and-on lover, and I’d like a few minutes with him alone. So, if you could just –”

“Wait outside in the verandah? Sure. No problem.”

Such a good sport, that guy.

He walked back inside, picked up a book and exited the room. When I returned into the room, Tunde had finished his call.

“Where’s your friend?” he asked.

“He stepped outside.”


“Because you and I need to take care of business.” I said this with a coy smile as I sidled over to him, my hand going straight for his crotch.

“So you sent him outside? No nau! We can’t do this.”

“Are you sure?” I pressed the burgeoning bulge in his pants. “Are you very sure?”

“Look, PP, I’m not comfortable with inconveniencing your friend. That’s why I made preparations for sleeping elsewhere.”

“And I forgive you for that. But I won’t forgive you if you take this erection out of here.” I was kneading his hard-on now, and he was grinding it into my hand as his breathing quickened.

I grabbed his head and pulled it to mine. Our lips connected and the kiss ignited. Five seconds later, he pulled back. The dude was still feeling uncomfortable.

“No, we can’t do this… Your friend is outside…”

What is this nonsense na? I thought with some exasperation. See as Flakes is spoiling my market without even trying.

“Stop talking, Tunde. He’s not complaining.” I was pulling him back to my kiss again.

He recoiled a bit, even though he was still thrusting his hip against my hand. “I’m just not comfortable…”

“Well, just so you know, this is going to happen. So the sooner you stop being uncomfortable, the sooner he can get back in.”

He laughed. “The way you get bossy sometimes eh…”

“Ehen? What now come and happun?” I flashed him a grin.

“It’s very sexy.” And he grabbed me to him and began ravishing my lips.

Oshe! Oga at the top in action!

Our lips battled for some minutes, and then he was throwing me to the bed. I could see this was going to be a ‘wham, bam, thanks ma’am’ kind of sex. And even though I don’t like quickies, I was so hot for the D, that I was willing to let this one be. Tunde pounced on me, flipped me to my front, yanked my boxers down, and began kneading my ass cheeks with the reverence of one who knows good ass when he sees it. Nothing turns me on more than the worship of that section of the temple of the Holy Spirit.

Then he fumbled about in his pocket, fishing out all the sex orishirishi, while hurriedly pulling his pants and undies down to just below his knees. His erection bounced out, angry and hard, just impatient to answer the clarion call.

Now, Tunde ravages me when he has all the time in the night to make love to me. He is a sheer animal in bed. (Remember Love And Sex In The City, and the story of Declan and his boyfriend Kema who wanted to fuck him all through the night and at one point, very nearly raped him? Well, Tunde inspired that episode). And this is when he has time. What happens when he feels rushed? It is better felt than explained. Multiple times, I felt as though a heat-seeking missile was repeatedly ramming its way through my ass hole. Dude was fucking me angrily, like he was punishing me for having the effrontery to have my friend at my place. He’d go bang-bang-bang, and then lean in to hold me close and claim my lips while thrusting furiously behind. Such pain! Such pleasure! I found myself constantly crashing between the urge to push him away from me and the need to ride that muthafucking roller coaster to the top with him.

And then, he dropped to his left side, pulling me up from my front to my left side as well, and grasped my dick to wank me while he thrust harder and harder. That was such an erotic move, and I found myself cresting with the up-and-down friction of his palm over my dick and the harsh grunts coming from him as he banged faster.

Heaven, here we come!

His eruption came moments before mine. He was spasming behind me, and his hand had clenched to a stop around my erection as he stiffened to ride his orgasm. But I wasn’t having that. I was close too. I grabbed his hand and urged him to continue. He heard my increased whimpers and began vigorously working my dick. And seconds later, I was jerking against him like a patient caught in the throes of mild epilepsy.

Such bliss!

Tunde didn’t let us bask in the aftermath of the sex. He got up like ten seconds after our mutual ejaculation, and began putting himself in order. I followed suit. We were chatting and chuckling and stealing some more kisses as we cleaned up.

“We have to see again,” I said.

“Yes, we do,” he concurred. “How’s Sunday?”

Saturday was Flakes’s wedding. He hadn’t told me when he’d be leaving, but I was willing to wager that he’d be on his way by Sunday morning.

So I said,” Sunday is good.”

He smiled. I smiled. We kissed. And he was on his way out of the room. I followed him out; he stopped at the verandah to say another hello to Flakes. Mercifully, the rain had lessened to a very slight drizzle. It wasn’t long before he was gone.

As I walked back in, followed by Flakes, I sighed, feeling so replete with satisfaction. Sex, especially when it’s with someone you’re wholly attracted to, is such a good thing.

And I was definitely looking forward to Sunday.

Sunday morning however dawned, and Flakes announced that he’d be leaving on Tuesday.

My village witches at work again!

I was in a sour mood when Tunde’s whatsapp message came in. Hey, are we still doing today?

As if to mock my predicament, I overheard banter between two of my neighbours outside. Ebenezer’s fiancée had visited, and his roommate John wanted to know if he could sleep at Nonso’s for the night. They were chatting about this girl who had come to commandeer what they believed was rightfully hers. And so, evicting John was perfectly accepted.

I wondered what they’d think if I went up to them and asked Nonso to harbor Flakes for the night as well. I thought about how pleased they’d look if I told them I needed my privacy for a nocturnal visit, but how astonished they’d be when in the morning after, the person they’d see walking out of my room wouldn’t be the female they’d expect to see, but a fellow male. Why would he chance his guy so he can have privacy with his fellow guy? they’d at first wonder. And then two and two would yield a very unsavoury four.

This is why Nigeria should accept us and let us live.

So that our sex lives would stop getting trailed with suspicion and speculation; so that the choice of who you want to fuck isn’t masked when you simply want to talk about it; so that I can confidently ask Nonso to take on my visiting friend for the night without the self conscious thought of what he’d think or say when he realizes that I retired for the night with a guy.

I was thinking these sad thoughts when I typed back a response to Tunde: No, we can’t do today.

Written by Pink Panther

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