My kito story is not quite the kito story.

I’m Ade, 22 and I have been and known I was gay for all my life. You know that kind of gayness that’s hard to miss and can be spotted from 100 miles away? I was once nominated as the “mother general” of the student hostel where I live (story for another day).

After I finished Secondary school a few years ago, I decided to move to Abuja. I had heard so much about that city, how it flowed with milk and honey, how there were lots and lots of ‘generous’ and rich gays, and how there was an abundance of good sex to be had. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind that if I managed to move to Abuja, it would only be a matter of time before I snagged my own rich, loving sugar daddy. I was emboldened by the story of my role model, Madonna, who hitchhiked her way to New York City with just $20 and is today a globally famous star.

Itching to recreate my own story of the rise to stardom, I left my lovely Osun State and moved in with an aunt who lived in one of the slums on the outskirts of Abuja. It was a squalid and depressing place, a universe away from the bright glittering mansion dripping with opulence that I yearned and craved for. But I never once let the ghetto depress me or kill my dreams; I was sure that this was only a temporary phase and soon, I would land exactly where I wished to be – in the arms of someone rich and loving, who would take care of me, and who I would love and give myself to totally.

I held on to that dream for two years.

And then, I landed a job at a hotel as a porter; I supplemented my meager income with a few other side jobs as well some part time sex work, and soon I was able to save up enough money to rent an apartment of my own.

Halleluiah somebody!

Now I could have wild sex and moan with careless abandon, knowing that I was secure in the privacy of my own accommodation. But it seemed the devil had been watching (in 3D) and tracking my activities on Manjam.

A guy named Chuck soon caught my attention; his profile said he was 24, and we frequently chatted on manjam. Soon, I felt I could trust him enough, and so I shared my BBM Pin, Facebook ID and Whatsapp number with him. We chatted deeply and I soon fell for his caring and friendly manner.

After about four months of chatting, he invited me to visit him in Benin. He sent me a picture of his house, which he said was free for us as his parents had travelled. At first, I was a little apprehensive because I had never been to Benin in my entire life, and also, it wouldn’t be too easy for me to get time off from work. Hellooo! I’m a career woman … lol. Anyhoo, I told him I was broke and would not be able to afford the cost of the trip to Benin City. He quickly credited my account with N10, 000; after this, I had no decent reason not to honour his invitation. And so a few days later, I was in a bus heading to Benin. I felt little shivers of excitement running through me as we closed in on Benin after a few hours on the road.

Soon, we were in the city, and he was at the Bus Park to pick me up; he had driven a Toyota Camry. When I first set eyes on him, I was like, Gurrrrlll, this one is phyyyne! He was a Greek god; toned, caramel-hued body, thick dark hair that had more than a hint of waves, deep, penetrating eyes, and large hands. Just looking at him, I wished he would grab me and make me his total bottom. He smiled and hugged me and told me how pleased he was that I didn’t disappoint him. We drove off and soon afterwards, we arrived at a mansion with high walls and imposing gates. There were four boys and a lady in the compound. The lady took my bags upstairs and soon after offered me a plate of rice. Chuck made me feel so welcome, he even showered with me. He told me the four guys I had earlier seen were his cousins, and that, they ‘knew what’s up.’ (Apparently, they were all gay)

I couldn’t believe that I was in Nigeria; I had to pinch myself to be sure I wasn’t in some fairytale where my sexuality was known and accepted. I felt like a beautiful bride. In the shower, Chuck kissed me and gave me a soothing back massage and then proceeded to fuck me real good, just the way I like it. After that, we played a few games till it was night, and then we joined the other guys downstairs for some drinks. They all seemed very friendly and warm. I drank a punch which, in hindsight, I later believed was drugged. It wasn’t long before I got drowsy and spaced out. Through a thick haze, I could feel Chuck fingering my man-pussy, and I vaguely registered the other guys stripping off their clothes and touching each other. I wasn’t really bothered because I had had a few orgies in the past and actually liked them.

But poor me! I didn’t realize that I was about to be fucked hard and rough by four guys. I was soon gagged and slapped and then whipped by each of the guys, who then took turns to fuck me. I must have passed out at some point because I don’t remember much afterwards, except that some hours later, I woke up with severe pain.

I was still a bit disoriented as I took a shower and then told Chuck that I wished to leave. Hearing that I wanted to go, he flew into a rage and began to beat me, taunting me with names like fag, prostitute, ashawo. He then proceeded to rape me again. In the course of the day, the other guys forcefully had sex with me multiple times, and I was not given a single bite of food the entire day. They then informed me that I was to be their hostage, to be held captive for as long as they wished. They took my phone and called my mother; luckily for me, the woman is illiterate and can hardly speak or understand a word of English, and none of those Bini boys could speak or understand my native Yoruba language. They collected my ATM card and coerced me into giving up my pin number; they then headed to an ATM machine and withdrew all my money.

I was held captive in that house for five days, fed just once daily and fucked by four guys two or three times every day. I was kept in a drugged and helpless state until they’d had enough of me. At the end of it all, I was driven to a bus station, given the sum of N10, 000 and abandoned to my fate. Broken, bruised and battered, I eventually made it back to Abuja.

I am grateful to be alive and have largely put this incident behind me.

Written by Ade

Print Friendly
Total 0 Votes
0

Tell us how can we improve this post?

+ = Verify Human or Spambot ?