WRITER’S NOTE: The following is a work of fiction.

*

Belmund Cakes was a small office in the back flat on the first floor of Citi Center. The doorway and the staircase that led all the way to the small lobby where the receptionist sat behind a brown wooden desk smelled of the aromatic pleasure of different flavours of cakes. I was already salivating. A woman sat on the sofa reserved for customers. She had come to pick a very pink cake with an image of Barney on it.

I walked towards the receptionist, and he flashed a smile at me. “Welcome to Belmund Cakes, sir. How can we help you?”

For a second, I was lost, wondering if the smile was just a complimentary customer service smile, or was how he really smiled.

“Sir?” he inquired again, when I didn’t reply.

“Oh yes, I’d like to book a cake,” I managed to say.

The next ten minutes were spent with him helping me to pick a perfect cake that I wanted.

“Okay, I think a red velvet cake with chocolate frosting is the perfect fit for what I want.”

“I agree, sir.”

“So how much is it for this size?” I said, pointing to a model of cakes standing on his desk.

“10 thousand naira, sir.”

“OK, how do I pay?”

“Half payment now and the other half on pick up, sir.”

“Oh stop it with the ‘sir’. My name is Somto,” I said with a flirtatious smile. I was testing the waters, because my gaydar was seriously ticking.

He smiled again, this time quite shyly. “It is against work ethics and code of conduct here, but my name is Ifeanyi.”

I counted five clean one thousand naira notes from my wallet, and handed the money over to him. He collected them, recounted them, and entered something into his register.

“So can I have your number so that I can call to ask if it’s ready?”

“Sir – sorry, Somto, your cake will be ready in two days. And our office lines are printed on our flyers and handbills.” He handed me a handbill.

“Erm, I usually don’t have time during the day. So may I have your personal line so that I can call you to ask when I’m free at night, because I’m pretty sure your office closes before 6pm.” When he remained hesitant, I beseeched, “Please, see it as a favour.”

He sighed, before saying, “It’s unprofessional, sir – Somto, but okay.” Then he called out his digits, while I keyed them into my phone.

“Thanks, Ify,” I said with an appreciative smile and wink at him.

“No problem, Sommy,” he rejoined, paying me back by equally shortening my name.

In that instant, my gaydar did a complete 360°. I remained smiling as I walked out of Belmund Cakes.

Back outside, in front of Citi Center, I looked at my watch. Damn! It was 3.40pm. I had scheduled to meet Bob at the Polo Park Mall by 4pm. I knew how impatient he could be. After two years of being fuck buddies, I knew better than to let him get there first and wait for me. I hurriedly crossed the road and flagged down a Keke. Walking up to New Haven junction to take a bus would waste my time. And thankfully, the traffic jam in Enugu isn’t as bad as it is in Lagos or Port Harcourt.

On my way to the mall, Bob called to say he was sitting at the food court, in front of KFC. I alighted from the keke and paid the driver off. I walked toward the first entrance just before the huge Ferris wheel.

And as I was going in, I spotted Lanre from afar. Bitch! My old fuck buddy in Lagos!

“Ashewo, Lanre, wetin you dey find for Enugu?” I hollered. “You dey find prick, abi?”

Startled, he swiveled round and shrieked with surprise when he saw me.

“Sommy! Bitch!” He flew toward me and we hugged. “I was going to buzz you as soon as I sat down. I’m serving here. We just got out of camp.”

“Na me you dey blow big, big English for? Let’s go sit down. I’m here to meet someone.”

“I’m here to meet someone too. Bob!”

“Bob?”

“Yeah! You know him? We’ve been chatting for a while.”

“Oh, I know him. He has big dick and fat ass too. Whichever way you want to play,” I said, feeling a little miffed that someone that I knew was about to get all that goodness from Bob too.

But I couldn’t be jealous. Bob and I were after all not even exclusive.

“I’ll be here all through the weekend,” Lanre chattered as we made our way through the slightly crowded mall. “I’m staying at his place. Leaving on Sunday.”

“Good! Enough time to make babies. There’s a party on Saturday. You both should come. Plenty fine young boys.”

“Yippee! And it gets more interesting. He’s taking me clubbing tomorrow night.”

I cursed under my breath. Bitch! Die on that dick, mehn!

Bob was gobsmacked when he saw the two of us waltzing his way. His eyes widened and I could almost see the mental gymnastics going on in his head as he no doubt tried to figure out on his own how on earth Lanre and I knew each other. He sat there, with his fabulous fine self, causing me to get horny instantly. And then, there was Lanre beside me too, looking as fresh as newly-plucked rose. It had been awhile since I smacked that ass. Damn! My head was messing with me.

“You both know each other?” Bob queried as we hugged and shook hands. “How?”

“You forget that I am a Lagos boy,” I said, exchanging amused looks with Lanre.

While exchanging pleasantries, we ordered for some delicacies from Kilimanjaro. As we caught up on each other’s lives, I noticed the look in Lanre’s eyes every time he looked at Bob.

He had fallen for Bob!

I shook my head as I thought cynically: This one don enter one chance!

With Bob, there were never any strong feelings that could lead to attachment. He was all about enjoying the moment. I’d known better. Clearly, Lanre hadn’t gotten the memo.

Soon, we were done and left the mall. We drove over to Bob’s house, where we could relax more and gab some more. His place was in Fidelity Estate, just by Ebeano Tunnel road. His was a terraced apartment. Located downstairs were the kitchen, visitor’s toilet, living space with a very beautiful chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Two beautiful airy bedrooms were ensconced upstairs.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Lanre noted, as he looked around, taking everything in.

I had already thrown my shoe off and was lounging on a couch with the ease of one who had been here several times in the past.

“Thanks. Whiskey or Vodka?” Bob enquired.

“Whiskey please. American Honey. And weed too. Thank you!” I said, and watched his butt do its familiar pert bounce as he walked to the kitchen.

Several moments passed as we drank and smoked. Soon enough, I got stoned and dozed off in the couch. Then I snapped back awake with the thought of removing my shirt before sleeping off, so it wouldn’t get wrinkled, and to unbuckle my belt to get more comfortable in my makeshift bed.

I opened my eyes drowsily to find the living room empty. Where did they go to? The thought of staggering upstairs tired me, but I needed to be sure they were there.

I managed my steps upstairs and opened the first bedroom. It was empty. The bed in it was made and beckoned to my sleepy self. But I needed to find my friends. I drunk-walked to the second bedroom and opened it. Bob and Lanre were naked on the bed. Bitches! Clearly, they couldn’t wait for me to sleep off properly before getting down to business.

But I cannot come and carry last na, I thought as I walked into the room and tumbled into the bed in between them, without a care what they thought.

They didn’t seem to mind as they helped me out of my clothes. Lanre took my dick in his mouth, sucking it until it grew to full length and girth. Bob stuck his beef into my mouth as Lanre administered to my dick, thrusting in and out. We all took turns to blow each other. Bob had a bottle of edible lube. So – dammit! – rimming was on point. I am like a hyena in bed, and Lanre is like a wolf. And Bob is like a hybrid of both – very ferocious.

It was about 8pm by the time we were done fucking each other’s brains out. We lay sprawled on the messy bed, buttholes gaping, dicks limp, with the sheets moist with cum and sweat. There were condoms and sachets of lube scattered everywhere and heaps of our clothes in corners of the room. I left for the other room as Bob began changing the bed sheets. I knew they’d still fuck again because I spied a burgeoning erection on him as I made my way out of the room. And Lanre is kuku just an insatiable bottomless pit. But I wasn’t born gay for me to die on top a dick or inside an ass. I left them to siphon each other dry.

Both bedrooms adjoined bathrooms. So I quickly showered when I got to the other room. I turned on the air conditioner and crept beneath the sheets. Almost immediately after, I was fast asleep.

I woke up with a hammering in my head. It took me a moment to figure out where I was – or maybe the dull ache in my butt helped me remember. I crawled out of bed. I was naked. My clothes were in the other room. I checked my phone. It was 11:40pm. Shivers ran through my body from the AC as I slipped out of the room. I had to get my clothes. As I approached the other room, I could hear Bob groaning and gasping, while Lanre sang “Fuck me, oh yes, fuck me” like it was a Billboard hit.

These two are still at it?! I thought with mild astonishment.

I turned around and instead headed downstairs for a cup of water.

Back in the bed I’d earlier vacated, I coiled tightly into myself under the sheets. I wasn’t in a hurry to get back to sleep, so my mind strayed. And it strayed and strayed – onto cakes and Ifeanyi.

Ify! The name left my lips in a sigh and I picked up my phone and dialed his number. And when the connection was made and he said hello, the night glowed through the window.

TO BE CONTINUED

Written by Masked Man

Print Friendly
Total 0 Votes
0

Tell us how can we improve this post?

+ = Verify Human or Spambot ?