It was a Friday evening. After work. I was at the junction, looking to get on a keke headed to my area. In that exhausted state of mind, there was no way I could tell that my evening would take the turn it did. That I would have the presence of mind to do what I did.
So yes, it was 8PM and I was focused on getting home, taking a shower, having dinner and going straight to bed. It was rush hour, and there was stampede for every keke that drew up to the junction, no matter where the drivers were calling as their destination.
As people struggled to get on whichever keke was going their way, I was searching for the one whose driver was calling my route.
I eventually heard the call. And then I saw him. Ever the blessed child of Gay Jesus, in the microseconds between seeing the driver and reacting to his call, I registered him. Everything about him. Like how he was dark and really cute. Wearing a net-black singlet which did absolutely nothing to conceal his pecs and sinewy biceps. Dear Good Lord of Rainbow Heaven! He had arms that were thick like tree trunks.
“Elelewon Junction! One chance, Elelewon Junction!” he was shouting.
This was my destiny calling – and it was just one chance left!
Already, I could see one skinny short dude making a run for the keke, like his life depended on it.
Well, like I said: it was my destiny, and this guy was not about to take it. I sprang forward, running like I was contesting for the Olympics. And fortunately for me, I got to the keke first, shoving through to nyash down on the front seat just as the other guy reached the vehicle. I was panting for breath as I gave the guy a “better luck next time” smile.
He appeared to accept his loss in good stride as he joked at me, “Bros, you sabi run o. You dey do track and field event?”
The other passengers in the keke laughed at this, as did I.
The keke was filled and ready to move. The sexy keke driver slid into the front next to me, a closeness that ratcheted up the flutter of excitement I was feeling in my stomach. Being this close to him, I could see that he was even more good-looking than I’d earlier observed. He looked really clean too; most keke men I come across are not usually concerned about their appearances, always looking unkept and laden with body odour.
But not this one. He even smelled good, his small afro well combed, and the vein on his right bicep always popping out every time he pulled at the steering of the keke.
God! I was so hot for him very fast!
I had to say something.
“Bros,” I began conversationally, “this your perfume make sense o. Na Amani you dey use?”
He gave a small laugh before saying, “Eh?! My guy, no insult me na. Who dash me Amani perfume? Na Maliza I dey use.”
“OK. Well, perfume na perfume,” I said.
A beat passed, and when he didn’t respond, I persevered. “So how long have you been driving this keke?” I asked in English.
I expected him to respond in Pidgin, but he responded in English. Not broken, halting or flawed English. He spoke like someone who’d gotten an education.
“I’ve been driving keke for the past 5 years now.”
“What’s your name by the way?” I asked with a laugh. “Or should I call you keke man?”
He laughed too and said, “My name is Emeka. And you?”
I told him I was Afam.
“How about your family?” I asked. “How are they faring?” I felt really weird asking that question, asking a stranger about his personal life, and I was afraid he’d be offended or not answer.
But to my surprise, he responded well. “My family is fine. My dad is late, so I live with my mom here in PH in our family house. I have an older brother who stays in Kaduna. We all used to live together in Abuja when my father was alive, but after he died, his greedy, good-for-nothing family members took over everything. The only thing they left us was the family house in Port Harcourt, which our lawyers fought very hard to secure for us for that matter.”
I hadn’t expected all this, but hearing it made me feel a welling of empathy for him. I asked him about his education, and he said he studied Engineering in the University of Abuja. It wasn’t lost on me the emphasis of how life really sucks. To have a good life so radically turned around – the privileged resident of Abuja now a keke driver in Port Harcourt… I had this instant yearning to embrace him and hold him and tell him everything would be alright.
I was starting to really like this guy, not just because of the fact that he was good-looking, but because he had a great personality.
Soon, we got held up in traffic and the keke came to a standstill. Port Harcourt was filled with lights and the sounds of people and vehicles impatient to get along. But in there, right next to him, I couldn’t care for anything other than Emeka.
“What about your girlfriend?” I finally ventured onto the territory I wanted to be on. It was time to shoot my shot. “I sure say you get them plenty for store.”
And in my mind, I was like: Please, don’t be a womanizer! Please, don’t be a womanizer!
He laughed and said, “Me no get time for woman o. Na my business I fey follow.” As he said this, he turned and winked at me.
At this, my entire thought processes were set into confusion. What did that wink mean? Was he being friendly or was that a sign? Was he trying to communicate something to me? Or was that a thing a bro would do?
Fadalawd, speak to your son: is he or isn’t he?
While I was waiting for Gay Jesus to send me a subliminal message, I pushed forward. My heart was starting to pound faster as I considered what I wanted to do. I took solace in the knowledge that in the few minutes of our acquaintanceship, he must at least like me, otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so open with me about his life.
I looked carefully around, observing my environment. The streetlights on the area of the road where we were idling were off. So, the only illumination around us were from the lights of the vehicles surrounding us.
Next, I looked behind at the three passengers seated at the back. One, a guy, had a headset on and seemed to be dozing. And the other two, a young man and woman, were engrossed in their phones, clearly engaged in some trending social media conversation, from the rapt expressions on their faces.
This is my chance, I thought to myself as my heartbeat turned into a really fast pounding.
Swallowing hard, I drew strength from Hoely Angel Michael and made my move.
Slowly, I took up my hand and placed it on Emeka’s thigh. I acted like it was undeliberate, just an unthinking gesture of someone sharing a seat with someone else. Then I waited for his reaction. My heart was beating so loud, like all the drums sounding together at a secondary school recitation of the national anthem.
Ohmaigod, ohmaigod! What are you doing, Afam? I was screaming at myself in my head.
The worst thing that could happen, I thought to myself, would be him shaking off my hand with an outraged shout, and then proceed to give me the worst embarrassment of my life. We were in traffic; I doubted any negative reaction would amount to me getting a beating.
But he didn’t do anything. He didn’t even act like he’d noticed my hand on his thigh.
Okay then. Greenlight? Maybe.
I moved it up a notch by now deliberately rubbing his thigh, moving my hand about on that denim-clad muscular surface in a caress. I was watching his face as I did this. And all he did was laugh. He just laughed. Feeling emboldened by this, I stepped my game up another rung. I moved my hand further inward, a little to the left, almost touching the groove where his dick was nestled, increasing the motions of my caress as my hand traveled. I heard him let out a small sigh, and then he moved his legs apart just a little, as though inviting me to go in further and touch his dick print. At this response of his, I felt sparks of excitement light up my nerve endings and heat gather in my crotch.
I took charge of his tacit approval of what I was doing and stroked him some more as my hand finally got to its destination – his crotch. I could feel his dick. It was semi hard and hardening fast as I caressed him some more. His breathing was growing heavier and his legs trembled a bit. I felt a certain sense of power course through me as his dick grew and hardened under my ministration. I was watching his face, and in the semi-gloom of the city night, he looked like he was enjoying every bit of what I was doing to him.
Then I wanted more. I wanted to feel the dick itself, uninhibited by the fabric of his shorts. I went for the zipper and was pulling it down, when he clamped his hand down on mine. He had a stern look on his face, an expression that seemed to say: Look, I am enjoying what you’re doing, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
I had almost forgotten that we were in traffic, so consumed was I with desire for him. Thankfully, he had more presence of mind than I did. And as if on cue, the holdup suddenly began loosening up and with a burst of engines, vehicles were starting to surge forward again. Keke drivers dove in and out of tight corners as they jostled for the right of road with bigger vehicles. It was a battle to get out of the holdup quick before it was locked down again.
Finally, we were freely moving again, and he dropped the two passengers who were on their phones. He had even passed my bus stop, but I didn’t care. Even if he was driving straight to the frontlines of hell, I was determined to follow him there for an opportunity to finish what I started.
Eventually, he dropped the guy with the headset, and then asked me where my stop was. I told him he had passed it like 3 bus stops ago.
“Ah, Afam,” he said, “nawa for you o. Why didn’t you tell me to stop na?”
“Well, because I don’t have your phone number,” I told him. “And you know how una keke dey be. I might not see you again after this night.”
He gave a small laugh and said, “Ha, Afam! You like me that much?”
I was in lust with him, and I let him know that much. He nodded and continued driving. He drove until he got to a place, a corner that was unilluminated and seemed deserted.
“Come to the back,” he instructed as he got down from the keke.
I obeyed without hesitation. I slid to the back where he was already seated. Before I could do or say anything, he’d grabbed me and planted his mouth on mine. it was a full-on passionate kiss. I felt tiny explosions of need erupt inside me as Emeka kissed me. He was a very good kisser. Assaulting my senses with the touch of his tongue and lips. I had kissed lots of guys in my lifetime, but Emeka was proving to be one of the most exceptional. We groped at each other as we kissed, and I delighted in grabbing onto all the muscles of his arms and chest. As he pressed me to his body, I felt myself getting delirious with desire.
Dear God of Rainbow Heaven! Is this life?
I yanked off his singlet and very reluctantly pulled my lips away from his kiss to go for his nipples. I licked and sucked his nipples, tasting with my tongue and mouth, working them all over his smooth, sinewy body. He got more turned on by this and with a harsh groan, he grabbed my face with his hands and began kissing me again, this time more forcefully than before. Then he moved his mouth to my neck and after kissing it for a while, he bit into my skin, almost like he was a vampire claiming his victim. There was pain from his bite, and there was pleasure. I held onto his shoulders and moaned, giving more of myself to him.
Then I dipped my hand into his shorts and finally got what I wanted. I felt the raw skin of his swollen dick. It felt like a 9 incher. I hungrily stroked it. He expelled a harsh breath and his eyes rolled the harder I stroked his dick. I began furiously unbuckling his belt so I could get better access to his dick. My own dick was brick and letting our precum. I wanted Emeka. I wanted him inside me now!
But all of a sudden, his hands came down on mine and grabbed me. Stopping me.
He was struggling for breath as he said in a hoarse voice, “Baby, let’s slow down. We just met.”
Oh, come on!
I wanted to let out a frustrated cry. He was in the mood. I was totally in the mood. What did we have to slow down for? How could the devil do this to me – put me through this much temptation, get me to this bus stop, only to end it like this?!
But, however much I hated this turn of events, I admired him for his decision. It showed that despite his sex appeal and passion, he was also principled. And I’d like to think he respected me and wanted more from me than just a quick fuck in the back of his keke.
We reassembled our clothes and composure, and exchanged numbers. And as he drove off to drop me at my bus stop, he told me to expect his call.
Written by Afam