The norm is to meet a guy who is tall, dark and handsome. Well, the guy I met is neither. He’s instead a hunky piece of ice cream. We became acquainted accidentally on Facebook. Accidentally, because he bears the same name as a friend I used to have a thing for. We – me and this friend – didn’t end things so well, and so when I stumbled on his Facebook account, without even checking the profile picture, I sent to his inbox a furious one-liner, so he’d know I’d nabbed him. It didn’t take long for me to realize I nabbed the wrong fellow.

Before I could take that foot out of my mouth, we – me and this new friend – had started communicating via inbox. He was very attractive, with the creamiest complexion and the reddest lips I’d ever seen. So of course, I was attracted to him. But you know, I had to go slow, couldn’t afford spilling my feelings out to someone who would turn around and sic the nearest homophobic mob on me.

Our acquaintanceship graduated into a fast friendship like a blur. We got to the point where we became so inseparable. We (well, by we, I mean me mostly lol) didn’t let a day go by without calling or texting. I had all his numbers, his 2go ID (yeah before the raving madness of Whatsapp), and I subtly insinuated an edict for him – that he come online only when I was online myself. I had become so besotted with this guy that I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else having this close a relationship with him.

And then I went to visit him for the first time at his place. And his girlfriend was around. Drat! Talking about cramping my style. I had to comport myself, and allow myself to be engaged in a nice and easygoing conversation with the two of them, when all I wanted really was to rake my fingernails across that bitch’s face. I must have been giving off my vibes of discomfort, because after she left, this my brother from another mother, who had apparently noticed that I’d been uncomfortable all through the female’s stay, wanted to know why. He asked. I answered that I’d preferred to spend the time alone with him, more than in the company of someone else. Two is sexy, three is a crowd, you know.

And to that, he asked without preamble, “This one you want me alone, are you gay?”

It was the moment of truth. My heart pumped and I remained silent for what seemed like eternity. I was warring within myself over what response to give. I could either lie and we’d move on from the issue and I’d miss this chance to show him who I truly was, or I’d tell the truth, hope for the best and probably be rewarded by a feisty shag for my truthful effort. (lol) I mean, we had become close, very close, so I figured he’d not be too shocked or upset by my admission of being queer.

So I mentally crossed my fingers and told him the truth.

The understanding friend I thought would reveal himself didn’t happen. There was no ‘Oh really? Wow. Ok, cool with me’. No. He was furious. He was mad. He felt betrayed, like the best friend he had had done something bad to him. Suffice it to say that that visit didn’t end well. I left his place very miserable. And the consequent events weren’t a boost to my emotions either. He ceased all communication with me for nearly a month, and all through that time, misery became my company. I couldn’t function properly. I thought I’d lost him for sure. And that was when I came to a horrifying realization that I’d fallen in love with a straight guy.

After close to a month had passed, he finally made contact again. He wanted us to be friends again, but he had an agenda this time. He was determined to change me. (lol) He didn’t know what he was in for. And he tried, oh how he tried. At every point in time, he begged me to quit liking boys. He cajoled and threatened. He went the God route, and he quoted scriptures, and when I still wouldn’t budge, he shunned me again, and didn’t talk to me, this time for about three weeks.

And I was plunged back into misery. This time, it was so aching that I actually cried at intervals. I begged all the powers-that-be to bring him back to me, and for them to remove my gayness if that was going to be the going rate for having him in my life.

Well, the gods must have been listening to me, because three weeks later, (no, they didn’t remove my gayness lol) he came back again. He’d made his peace with who I was and was determined to accept me the way I was. He also came back curious. He didn’t avoid the issue of my sexuality, like most straight friends gay people have, who know about their true nature, do. He had questions, and he asked them. He downloaded – or rather, I downloaded for him – gay porn, and he watched with me, all the while asking questions like ‘Doesn’t that hurt?’ ‘How can that guy’s dick fit into that tiny asshole?’ ‘Does the top guy actually enjoy being sucked?’ And that was when I interjected, saying, ‘Yes, of course he enjoys being sucked. In fact, if I suck you, you will never want your girlfriend to suck you, ever again.’

He looked at me like I was crazy, and I laughed.

After a couple of weeks, he asked me if I was still hooking up with guys. I answered in the affirmative. And he asked what it would take to stop other guys from touching me. With my heart suddenly beating with hesitant expectation, I replied with forced glibness that he’d have to be my boyfriend.

The seed was sown. And I waited for it to germinate. And germinate it did. One night, when I went to his place after dinner at mine, he asked me if I wanted him. Well, hello?! Is the sky blue? Is Obama black? Is Denrele a raging queen? I was shocked, but I found my voice quickly enough to say yes. My heart was pumping really fast in that moment after I said yes and he stared at me. I felt heady, as though I was about to hyperventilate. Say something! Do something! Please! My mind raged at him.

And he finally did something. No, he didn’t do it the way Hollywood would, by pulling me into his arms and planting his lips on mine in a passionate kiss, complete with background music swelling. He instead unzipped his crotch, pulled out his dick and gave it to me in that ‘do with it what you will’ manner. I didn’t need any other encouragement. I took it and went to work. I sucked him with all I had. I pulled out all the stops. I did handwork, mouth work, tongue work, I was impressing myself. I was like a hairdryer I was blowing so hard. He thrashed and moaned in pleasure, as I sucked him. Oh yes, baby. I told you I’d suck you so much you won’t want your girlfriend’s mouth anywhere near your dick.

He did try to suck me too. It was a poor effort, with him nibbling at my dick like it was a particular brand of lollipop he wasn’t sure he liked. But he tried, and I was there to guide him. And then there was the sex. I was both lover and teacher. I showed him all the moves. I wrapped the condom lovingly over his rock-hard dick, and I taught him about lubing and fingering me to prepare my ass for his entry, and then I guided him ever-so gently in. And it felt good. After I moaned his name and thrust my hips up against him, he leaned in, turned my face around to meet his intense stare and before he started moving, said, “If any other guy ever touches you after now, I will kill him.” And he proceeded to give me the sex that would be the first of many others.

And that is how I found the love of my life.

Written by Blue Fox

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