It was amid a flurry of chuckles that Kizito and I walked into his older brother’s living room from our day. It was evening and the Saturday sun slanting through the windows had waned and as such, the room was dim. Kizito reached for the switch while I kicked off my shoes and dropped into a sofa with a sigh.
“I’m telling you, that place we looked at on Amore Street is perfect,” I said, not willing to give up on the argument we’d been having concerning our house-hunting all day. “It’s kind of central, and all we have to do is walk out to Opebi Roundabout to get transport straight to work.”
“Yes, but because it’s such prime real estate that it’s a problem,” Kizito groused as he walked to the windows to draw the curtains against the approaching twilight.
“Why, because of the rent? We’re splitting, so that shouldn’t pose much of a problem.”
“It’s still too steep,” he demurred. “We have to consider the fact that all our money won’t be for rent alone. We’ll have furnishings to take care of, and all that.”
“So what, you want us to consider the place we looked at in Mafoluku?” I shuddered at the thought of the crowded streets and raucous Yoruba neighbourhood we’d taken a tour of at the behest of the house agent we’d been working with.
Kizito noticed my discomfiture and laughed. “Don’t be such a snob. Oshodi these days is not what it used to be.”
“Still, I like distance, and those areas don’t offer it.”
“We’ll be fine.” He came over to where I was seated, leaned forward and claimed my willing lips in a kiss.
“We have not finished discussing this,” I husked against his lips.
His chuckle rumbled against my mouth before he straightened. “Speaking of which, I checked out that your friend’s blog.” He started out of the parlour.
I got up to follow him to the bedroom. “How were we speaking about that?”
Ignoring my teasing, he continued, “Eddie is his name, right?”
“Yes. So you visited Rainbowman…” At his nod, I asked, “So? Did you like it?”
“Yea, I did. But nawa o!”
“Don’t tell me. The mess that is the comments section got to you?”
“Damn straight!” He paused in his divesting of his clothes to look at me with a twist of his lips. “No pun intended. But seriously, Nigerians are a homophobic lot. And they’re relentless at it. The heterosexual readership of that blog, I don’t get what their deal is. You know this is a gay blog, and you know what to expect from it, and yet, you keep coming day after day to spew hate.”
“It’s exhausting really.”
“And the gay ones sef!”
“Whoa, what did we do?” I queried with a laugh.
“The LGBT commenters are just as vicious as the straight ones, fighting back insult after insult, and detracting from the issues brought up in the posts. Whatever happened to educating the public on homosexuality? Such retaliatory nastiness does nothing for the gay movement in Nigeria.”
“At some point, you get tired of trying to educate a public who doesn’t want to be educated. It’s like you said, the homophobic commenters come on the blog ready to spew hate. How successful do you think you’d be trying to break through their prejudice to get them to see?”
“Nobody said the fight would be easy. But perseverance is key. They won’t want to listen, but if you say it often enough and with gentler persuasion, gradually, the message will get across.”
I smiled, and moved toward him. “Oh you cute thing. You’ve been queer for what, three seconds, and you’re already angling to take the activist torch away from Bisi Alimi.”
“Gerraway joor!” he blustered as I encircled my arms around him from behind, cradling his derriere on my groin. He made a half-hearted show of pushing me away, and I didn’t budge.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” I murmured against his ear. “Promise me you won’t get mad when you hear it.”
“What have you done, oga?”
“Okay, I promise.”
I gave a theatrical sigh, before saying, “I just want to tell you that you have sexy lips and I’ve been dying all day to kiss them.”
He was already laughing before I was done talking. “Rubbish boy!” he said as he turned around in my arms to face me. “Okay, you asked for it!”
He pulled my face to his, and it within seconds, the meshing of our lips had turned into a fiery kiss, and I found myself revelling in the fire of it. I felt Kizito’s mouth hard on mine, parting my lips, compelling, seeking, urging. For a long time, we strained against each other, thigh to thigh, closely entwined, so passionately lost to all but the urge pulsating between us.
“Take me,” I whispered urgently. Inwardly, I was screaming the words insanely. I wanted to feel his hands on my chest, his fingers playing with my nipples, and then parting my thighs. I yearned to fall with him to the softness of his bed, to draw him into me, to know his possession.
He seemed to want the same things I wanted, because he propelled us in direction of his bed, and we staggered and fell into the downy embrace of the sheets. My hands were suddenly everywhere, scrabbling for his belt and zipper, and tugging his denims down away from his waist. When I reached eagerly for the erection straining against his boxers however, he stilled. I didn’t notice his detachment until he placed a hand over mine, which had started to caress the length of his shaft.
“Uh, Dee…” he said huskily.
“Mmhmm…” I muttered, reaching for his kiss.
“Dee,” he said in a firmer tone against my lips.
“What?” I opened my eyes, blinking through the haze of passion to stare questioningly at him. “What’s the matter? Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything is fine.”
“Everything is fine,” I concurred with a lewd smile, while tugging slightly at the erect dick in my hand.
He smiled back, an expression that winnowed away as hesitation sharpened on his features. “I just…well…”
“What? You just what? Tell me already.”
“I’d like you to do me this time.”
I grinned as I began shimmying on the bed to get my head down to his crotch. “Well, hello, I was in the process. Didn’t you see the ‘men at work’ sign? Oya shut your mouth and let’s do!”
He pushed at my shoulder before my mouth could connect with his dick. “Dee, I mean I want you do top me.”
Something about how he stressed the singular word finally communicated his appeal to me. Understanding came to me as tiny slivers of disbelief coursed through my body, surprising a laugh out of me. “Ehn?”
“I’m serious. And it’s not funny.”
In spite of the wooden expression now on his face, – or maybe because of it – my mirth gained momentum. I was chuckling as I pulled back from him. “You are serious. Of course you are. My village people are at it again.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” I waved a hand in my face, trying to get my mirth under control. “But this – it is so…” I stopped to mentally search for the right word.
“Sudden?” Kizito supplied.
“Is it bad?”
“Yes – I mean, no. No, no. It’s just sudden. Really out of nowhere. Totally unexpected.”
“Right, all of them synonyms of sudden,” he said wryly.
“Well, I’m trying to process.”
“I can see that.”
“Just so we’re clear, by saying I should do you, you’re asking me to –”
“Top me, yes.”
“That is, I should stick my dick inside your ass and fuck you like you’ve always fucked me.”
“You sound like it’s a fantastic idea.”
“It is a fantastic idea, considering I’m Bottom.”
“You’ve never topped before?”
“Once upon a very forgettable time,” I said, shutting my mind against the journey down that memory lane.
“You didn’t like it?”
“I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. But whatever I felt, it was enough to make me decide I didn’t want to do it again.”
“But you have quite an impressive digger down there.” His hand travelled downward as he spoke, and his fingers grasped my hard-on. “And it’s as hard as Olumo Rock.”
“You like?” I said, feeling warmed by the awe in his voice.
“Like crazy! That’s why I want you inside me. See nau!” He looked down at his palm upon which my dick had started to spasm with small bobbing motions. “The thing is nodding. It’s saying ‘Yes, yes, let’s do this.’”
I let out a laugh. “Nice try, boyfriend.”
“Come on, Dee,” he wheedled.
“I just don’t know if I can be comfortable doing this.” I moved my hips in a thrusting motion, causing my dick to slide back and forth in his hand.
He grasped it tighter, causing a surge of sensations to surge upwards from the point of contact to my nerve endings. Fresh arousal coursed through me and I moaned as I moved to reclaim his lips in a kiss.
He drew his head back. “Dee, behave. We aren’t done talking.”
I groaned. “How did we get from making out to a boring exercise such as talking?”
“I just want to know why you’re averse to topping.”
“It’s simple. I’m Bottom,” I wailed.
“How do you know you’re Bottom?”
I arched a brow at him. “Are you serious with that question?”
He nodded, smiling at the faint ire in my tone.
“Well, because, having tasted both, I realised I’d rather get pumped than do the pumping. Consequent upon that realization, I chose my career path.”
“So what does that make me?” he said pedantically.
“Well, I assumed top. Perhaps your desire to bottom will make it clearer.”
“It is possible you are versatile, a guy who enjoys both roles. We don’t know though if you will like it equally or less than topping since you haven’t bottomed before. Wait sef!” My brow furrowed as a thought nudged its way into my consciousness. “Have you found some alhaji in the outskirts of town that ripped your Bottom flower?”
“What?” This time, he was the one that let out a surprised laugh. “Don’t be silly! Of course not! It’s painful, isn’t it?”
“You’re asking after you’ve asked to be fucked?” Both brows lifted. “Yes it is, but not much if I am in the right mood, the technique is right, and the lube is adequate. It is as if the pain and the pleasure merge to become painful pleasure. But I am not telling you any more” – I began grinning – “before you’ll use the skills I have gleaned over the course of a long Bottoming career to service your alhaji.”
He laughed that deep throaty laugh of his that I found so attractive. “I am probably versatile. At least that’s what I think for now, going by how I feel.”
“Fine by me. But biko don’t turn into a Bottom overnight, else we’ll have to be penetrating each other with our bottoms in this relationship.”
“Oh relax! I love topping.” His gorgeous lips swooped forward for a quick kiss.
“Good. And I’ll just go ahead and crown myself boyfriend of the year, considering how I haven’t thrown your ass out of this bed for even suggesting to me, the Bottom partner, that you like dick up your ass.”
“Wait, what?” he chuckled as he stared at me.
“Oh yeah, there are Bottoms who do not want to use their ear and hear that they’re sharing the same bed space with a versatile. Some in the gaybourhood think Versatiles are Bottoms in denial. I have a friend who is versatile. He talks often about the discrimination he suffers. He screams that he is versatile but Tops refuse to acknowledge that he has a dick and can use it, while Bottoms despise him because they think he is claiming to be what he is not.”
Kizito’s brow furrowed. “Why don’t they rather think he is a top in denial?”
“Thank you, Boo! You see, whether we accept it or not, we have unconsciously adopted certain attitudes towards sexual roles from the heterosexual community. The person doing the fucking is seen as some sort of conqueror while the person who gets fucked is the conquered. In our deepest minds, we think the bottom status is a shameful one.”
“Especially, when you think about the indications of ‘top’ and ‘bottom’,” Kizito said. “In all our strivings in life, we want to come out on top.”
“And on the background of this stinking pervasive ideology, enter the versatile that can play both roles. And everyone sees him as someone who lives at the bottom but claims to also occasionally live on top in order to create a false impression that he has got a conqueror in him. And they get stigmatised when they should be commended.”
“Commended?” Kizito echoed.
“Yes, commended, because they have risen above the gutter mentality and have freely embraced both roles. I’m not speaking of those who are just versatile by preference, because I believe some who claim to be tops are actually versatile. I’m referring to those who are versatile and have no issues with declaring that they are. Yes they can top, but they are honest and true to their feelings.”
“As I have been with you, yes?” he said, drawing me closer.
I chuckled in agreement, before saying, “And there are some Versatiles who prefer to date Versatiles, but we’re not going to be one of them, because I am not Versatile.”
“I’m not asking you to be. If one is versatile in a relationship, then it shouldn’t matter.”
“Well, you’d think so. I asked my versatile friend this same question and he said that sex with a significant other for him involves giving everything, and the connection felt doesn’t feel complete if the partner refuses to fuck or be fucked by him.”
“Why must it be that way?”
“Why not? That’s precisely why it’s called a preference. That’s what this whole thing is about! It’s about pre–fer–rence” – I enunciated each syllable of the word – “and frankly, I am yet to see any section of the different sexual communities that has gotten it.”
Kizito released a breath. “You know, for a sect of the public termed the minorities, we have way too many issues with respecting individuality.”
“Absolutely,” I agreed. “On Monday, the straight people hate the queer ones because of their preference. On Tuesday, the gay man or woman hates the bisexual because of his preference. On Wednesday, the Bottom hates the Versatile because of his preference. On Thursday, the gay community hates the lesbians because of their preference. On Friday, the entire gay community comes together to hate those who neither like to top nor bottom because of their preference. On Saturday, the Bottoms get to hate the Tops because of their preference, and they get treated like shit in return. Sunday is the big day. On Sunday, the entire gay community gets to hate the transgendered and asexual persons because of their presence!”
“A big happy family we all are, no?”
“It’s like we humans have all made a subconscious pact that we won’t allow people have what they prefer, even though it causes no one any harm. And it’s especially wrathful to me when it comes to the LGBT community. When it comes to the issue of preference, we should know better. But time and time again, we have shown that we are not better than the rest.”
“We are all humans and deeply flawed in the eyes of God.”
I chuckled in response. “Oya oh! Class over. And Mister Lecturer needs to be settled properly else you will not pass this course.”
Kizito laughed at the feigned sternness on my face. “So what do you want – cash or kind? I could write you a cheque.” He pulled away and made to rise from the bed.
I pulled him back. “Where do you think you are going?”
He shot me a look of mock contriteness. “Nowhere, sir. I’m sorry, sir. Now, I have been a bad, bad student and I think I need to be spanked. Will you do me?”
I expelled a short breath. “This request again?”
He dipped his brow and his lips trembled into a moue of despair. The expression was so adorable, that I laughed, feeling my weak resolve melt away. I moved my head forward and kissed him. The kiss was lingering and soft, as our lips moved against each other and our tongues pressed deep into our mouths.
My breathing was raspy as I withdrew to whisper, “Let’s start with this.”
“With what?” he said in a voice made hoarse with passion.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I looked down at his throbbing erection. I took an appreciative look at the beautiful dick, whose piss slit was now oozing pre-cum. Then I crouched low to wrap my mouth around his dick head to suck in that beautiful cock, and taste his delicious fluid. I slowly bobbed my mouth up and down on his rod, trying to build up to deep-throating it. Soon, I felt my lips brushing up against his pubic hair, and while I was stroking his smooth rod with my mouth, I brought my hands around to his ass cheeks. I separated his warm globes, and quickly brought my index fingers to his ass hole. I felt him jerk against my face once my fingers made contact with his anus. I started stroking his hot, moist hole while he wiggled his ass against my hands, and moved his hips back and forth to fuck my warm mouth.
Sliding one finger into his hole, then out, and replacing it with the other index finger, I finger-fucked Kizito’s ass hole, urging him on to cum a lot faster than he might have otherwise. The sucking action of my mouth on his sensitive cock skin and the thrilling feel of my fingers stroking his prostate brought him off quickly.
“Oh, Declan, I’m going to come!” he panted. “Oh God, yes, I’m going to – I’m coming! Oh shit! Oh, yeah, that’s good! Oh, yes, I’m coming. Oh-oh, YEAH, YOU HOT FUCKER, SUCK MY DICK!”
With that, he shot several spurts of his creamy cum into my mouth, right onto my tongue, where I could taste his hot juice. In all my years of fellation, I’d never permitted any guy to ejaculate into my mouth. I’d tasted pre-cum and I wasn’t sure I’d like the full import of cum taste. But for some reason, I didn’t recoil from Kizito’s cum. I savoured the taste of him on my tongue, stifling the involuntary urge to gag and memorizing his flavour. I kept my mouth on his cock while he softened some, caressing his soft, velvety cock head with my tongue, reluctant to let it go. Finally, though, I felt him urging me to withdraw. As I did, he brought his mouth to mine avidly, to taste his own cum from my mouth to his.
“That was glorious,” he breathed into my mouth.
“Which part, my mouth on your dick or my fingers up your ass?”
“Both. Every part of it.”
“Ok, so your Bottom urge has been satisfied, yes?”
“No?” I wanted to cry.
“No.” There was a smile in his voice. “But enough about you getting into my ass today. Right now, let’s get you some loving.”
“I like the sound of that,” I murmured as I sank into the heat of his renewed kiss.
Written by Pink Panther