AFTER THE NUT

“Once I nut, all that gay shit be over.”

This was a tweet that recently had Twitter divided. Gay twitter, I mean. Some people agreed with it, saying that it’s a simple case of post-nut clarity, while some said it’s more than that, that it is in fact internalized homophobia and that all those that feel this way (and they were a lot) should seek therapy.

I saw this tweet on a Sunday morning, and interestingly, I’d had a experience that mirrored this issue three days prior. I’ll tell you what happened and then you’ll decide if it is post-nut clarity or internalized homophobia.

A few weeks ago, as I was swiping right and left on Tinder, I matched with this guy, and almost immediately, he texted me with so much enthusiasm. He introduced himself to me as Babu, and we exchanged pleasantries. Then he said something that made me realize right away that he wasn’t queer.

“I’d like to have a friend like you. I want to know more about you,” his message read, and I could tell that this was someone who was interested in knowing about my sexual orientation. He said he had so many questions and he hoped I wouldn’t mind answering them. I was cool with that. He sent me his number and asked me to send him a message him on WhatsApp, which I did a few minutes after.

The conversation was pretty cool and some of the questions he had for me were stuff like: “When did you know? When did you make the first move on a guy? Isn’t sex painful for the person taking the dick? Can someone cum from being fucked? How does it feel to touch or play with someone else’s dick?” While I tried to answer his questions as exhaustively as I could, I made sure to warn him that I wasn’t speaking for anyone else but myself, as some things vary from person to person.

As our conversation progressed, he talked about how he’d often had the feeling that touching someone else’s dick would be nice. I told him he should go for it, that he might actually like it. He said that all his friends are straight, as is he, and he’d never had the chance to explore that.

On that Thursday afternoon, he texted me, asking me what I was up to, and I told him I was just chilling at home. During our conversations, we had established that he likes to smoke weed and I had never really smoked weed before; so he suggested I should come over to keep him company and try some weed for the first time. I was down for that, so I took a quick shower and jumped on a motorbike to his place, which was not really far from where I stay. He directed me up to his apartment door.

When I got there, standing before me was this beautiful man in boxers. He was dripping sweat, and I was struggling to keep my eyes from blatantly ogling him. What had he been doing, a gym membership commercial?

“I was just working out,” he said as he led me into the apartment. “Have a seat and let me take a shower, and I’ll join you shortly.”

“Cool,” I said as I settled down on a seat.

I reached into my pockets for my earphones, plugged them in and recommenced watching Big Brother Canada as I waited for him.

When he was done, he joined me on the couch, lit a blunt and we started smoking away, he more than me. For a while, I didn’t feel anything while he kept going on about how he was already high. I was starting to question my tolerance for drugs when, out of nowhere, it hit me like a ton of bricks.  First, everything started to slow down. Then I felt like someone had just poured some cold water in my blood and it was quite a refreshing feeling. I felt so at peace.

As I was undergoing this transformation, we were still carrying on with our gist. He asked me whether I planned on ever coming out to my family. Then we talked about homophobia, homosexuality, Christianity.

All this while, I was progressively developing a hard-on at this time, and I mentioned it to him. He chuckled and told me not to be alarmed. A few more minutes went by, and then he asked me to follow through with what I’d earlier promised. During our WhatsApp chat, he had talked about how fascinated he would be to see me jerk off and asked me if that was something I would be comfortable doing. I told him I didn’t mind at all. And so, sprawled out there in his living room, after his reminder, I asked him if he would join me and he said maybe, maybe not. I asked for some milking jelly, lowered my sweatpants to my ankles and my boxers to my knees, and got to work.

For the first three minutes, he said nothing. He continued watching the TV and stealing glances at me every few seconds. Then he adjusted his sitting position and kept his gaze transfixed on my dick.

For a minute, he said nothing and then, in a low tone, he asked, “Am I allowed to touch?”

I nodded.

Without hesitation, he reached for my dick. After a few caresses, he looked at me with something akin to awe and said, “It feels so good to touch someone else’s dick.”

The confirmation to these words was how his face had lit up, as though he was undergoing a rapturous experience.

He continued stroking my dick up and down, getting to the balls every so often. Then he got up from the couch and leaned forward over me as he continued stroking my member. It was as if he wanted a better angle to experience this, to experience all of it. He looked like a kid who’d just gotten his favorite candy bar at a shop.

He was living.

Then without warning, his lips came for mine. We started kissing, and it took me less than five seconds to realize how much of a good kisser he was, very sensual, and I loved it. As we kissed, his hands were still on my dick, stroking me up and down.

Then he pulled back and asked if he could suck me. Again, I acquiesced. He bent forward and took my dick in his mouth. I was honestly shocked at how good he was at this. I did not feel any teeth the whole time he was sucking me, as he used his lips and tongue to deliver the magic.

Minutes later, he came up for air.

“Can I sit on it?” he asked. “I’m so curious, I want to know how it feels.”

I did not mind this, but when I asked him if he had any condom and he said no, his intent was not an option I was comfortable following through with. I hadn’t come with any condoms myself because I didn’t think what was happening would ever happen. He nodded his understanding when I declined. Then he got down on his knees and continued sucking me with so much precision while simultaneously wanking his dick.

He came first.

As soon as he did, he withdrew his mouth from my dick and told me he wanted to see me cum. He was even pulling back up his pants, but I told him not to do so, as I wanted to jerk off while looking at his naked body. I wanked for some minutes, and before long, my nut was flying out from my dick, a geyser that landed on my thigh and on his couch.

Earlier on, while we were smoking and getting high, he’d asked me how it felt taking weed for the first time. This time, in the moments after our shared intimacy, I asked him how it felt being with a guy for the first time.

He didn’t give me a straightforward (pun intended) answer. He said that the experience was something he would need time alone to think about to know how he feels about it. He also added, quite offhandedly, that this was just something he’d vowed to experience at some point in his lifetime “just to know how it feels”.

He appeared to be downplaying what this whole experience meant to him, which was a marked difference from the person who discovered my dick for the first time.

And it made me wonder: is this a case of post-but clarity or internalised homophobia?

Written by Kieha