He is French and about forty-five years old. (Let’s call him Pierre) A friend of mine introduced me to him sometime last year. At the time, he was living with his Cameroonian boyfriend. We visited them often, and we’d have lunch together and discuss vast issues. It was always fun.
And then, he split from his boyfriend, but our friendship blossomed. When it seemed as though he was putting the works on me, I made it clear to him that I don’t feel sexually attracted to men who are very much older than I am. He told me he respected my decision, and we continued being friends.
And then, he invited me to lunch at his place. We’d been talking about a wide range of LGBT issues through phone chats, and I figured lunch would be a good opportunity to rehash some of those talks and revisit the areas we disagreed on. And so, I honoured the lunch date on the late afternoon about two weeks ago.
When I arrived, he had already prepared a very delicious-looking Chicken Sauce with Couscous. We ate and drank. I absolutely enjoyed the meal. A delicious meal is one sure-fire way to seduce me. I didn’t drink much though, because I’m never comfortable drinking when I’m not in my house.
After the repast, we started talking. The atmosphere was calm and I was stuffed, all of them factors that contributed to making me very comfortable. Pierre doesn’t speak English very well, and because I enjoy conversations in French, we carried on our gist in his native language. And you know how romantic French sounds… So, even though I still felt weird being all alone in his apartment with him (something that had never happened before), I felt too relaxed to suddenly start leaving now that lunch was over.
And then, during a lull in our conversation, Pierre was suddenly close to me, and started touching me. His hands were on my thighs, and then his fingers were on my fly, unzipping my pants. The awkwardness I felt seeping away earlier began to return as I looked futilely for a way to tell the forty-five-year-old man to stop touching me. I felt like I had to respect him. I was speechless to object to his amorousness, even though I wasn’t enjoying it.
Then, he grabbed my arms and led me to the bedroom. I followed. I couldn’t believe I was still being docile. But yes, I followed him inside. He locked the windows and turned on the AC. He also closed the window shades, because the windows were all glass, and he lived on the first floor of a 25-storey building.
Then he pushed me gently back on the bed, and began working my dick over with his tongue. My libido was as flat as a slate at first, but because he was a good worker, I soon felt blood rushing down south at some point. He continued the workout session, his tongue flicking over my erection, his lips sliding over the shaft, taking it in and out with practiced ease. I simply lay there, staring at him with a certain detachment that felt odd to me, seeing as I was already turned on.
Then he noticed my detachment, saw that I wasn’t responding as expected. And what he did next was totally unexpected.
He raised his hand and gave me a very hot slap!
Yes, you read right. A hot Naija parent’s slap across my cheek. My eyes stung and my ears began ringing. Before I could react, he leaned forward and told me – no, ordered me – to slap him back. In a fierce whisper, he added that I should slap him back harder.
In that moment, I didn’t know what to feel; whether to be mad about the unexpected slap and push him away from me, or to revenge by giving him a very profound slap with my rough palm. (Yes, my palms are rough and dry lol). My eyes were still smarting with tears from his slap and my mood had soured, and that decided it for me. I went for the latter. I swung back my hand and gave him a very dirty slap, a blow driven by anger.
And with that, I expected him to turn red and then push off from me, freeing me to leave. But for where kwanu? His cheek turned a pinkish-red, yes. But he didn’t free me. Instead, he shouted, “Yes, baby!” And then, he climbed on top of me, sufficiently quashing any thoughts I might have had about my freedom. He commanded me to bite his nipples. I hesitated, but he pushed my head close to his chest, squashing my face against his skin and nearly choking me in the process. You know how an impatient mother shoves her breast inside the mouth of her crying baby to get him to shut and suck… Yes, that was how I got force-fed Pierre’s nipple. My annoyance mounted at this, and I clamped my teeth down hard on the proffered nipple. He shouted again and arched his body toward me, asking me not to stop, commanding me to continue. He was jerking about like a hungry lion. Honestly if you had seen him before this shit, you would never have believed that a nice-looking man like him could get this crazy.
At this point, something angry was permanently triggered inside me. I felt very upset by him and I wanted to pay back, to cause him pain. I wasn’t myself any longer. My dick was now as hard as a cement beacon and I was determined to deal with the man. I reached my hands behind him and slapped his ass repeatedly, alternating that with twisting his nipples with my fingers, pinching hard with my long nails to make him hurt. My attitude was defensive, as though I was attacking someone who’d been attacking me. I hit him so hard in the back when he got off me and bent to suck me. But he simply moaned with pleasure, not letting my cruel enthusiasm stop him from sucking me off. At a time, he was like, “Fais-le comme un africain vas-y vas-y!” Slap me like an African that you are, baby! C’mon, c’mon!
Lol. As I write this, recalling what happened makes me chuckle with amusement, but amusement was the last thing on my mind at the time.
Anyway, I eventually came. He sucked me till I climaxed, while using a dildo on himself. And then, he wanked himself and came as well. He gave me a fresh towel and asked me to go and shower. I went into the bathroom, showered and returned to the bedroom to start apologizing to him for my behaviour, which had begun to appall me. He brushed my apologies aside, telling me he too didn’t know what came over him, saying it’d been long he had this kind of fun.
As he said this, I wondered wryly if this was one of the reasons his Cameroonian lover fled from the relationship.
So after all had been said, I got dressed and was about to leave when he called me back and handed me 500dh, which is approximately 10 thousand naira. I thought about rejecting the money, but I felt too indecisive about what to do. I eventually took only 20dh (about 400 naira) for my taxi back home and gave him back 480dh. When I got home, he sent me a text saying that he was sorry and asking me to lunch again. He promised that he would not touch me again.
Akuko! Which gods was he telling that story to? Who will go there again? Not me biko!
Written by Garrison