BE THE MAN THAT’S MINE

I knew, from a very young age, that I was different from other boys around me. The evidence was all around me, from the fact that I didn’t like sports to the fact that I developed a love for ballet, to the fact that I was effeminate – an attribute for which I suffered verbal abuse, often getting called “nwoke mara mma ka nwanyi.”

I noticed my attraction to boys when I was 9 (I am 14 going on 15 now). I would go to the football field just to ogle the sight of sweaty male bodies running after the ball, some of them with their eggplants dangling between their muscled thighs, which their jersey shorts did little to conceal.

However, before I could even explore these desires, I began to learn from the world around me that boys who felt the things I felt were an abomination. And so, I began to know guilt. I prayed earnestly for God to take away this “sin” from me, but however hard I prayed, it was as though the feelings grew stronger, mocking me with their intensity.

Because of this, I began to withdraw. As the years passed, I built walls around my vulnerability. I stopped being so friendly and acquired a sharp mouth to combat those who teased and mocked me. I found refuge in solitude and saw most everyone around me as potential enemies who wouldn’t hesitate to do to me the horrible things I’d seen others do to homosexuals on television and on the internet. Whenever the bullies came to harass me over my effeminacy, I would fight back with my sharp tongue, raining abuses on them until they slinked away.

Then came the day I stumbled upon Kito Diaries, and just like that, I discovered a whole new world, a place with people like me. I was beyond happy. I read ravenously, consuming almost every article from months and years back. And with each story I read, I began to accept myself. I began to understand that I am fabulous. I began to glory in what the world called a flaw and loved myself more.

In the absence of sex education made for someone like me, Kito Diaries fed me with knowledge and understanding, opening my eyes to how normal it was to feel the desires I felt for other boys.

One of such boys was Michael.

Michael was a beautiful boy. He was my age (the events of this story happened when we were 13). He was tall and lean, with the kind of muscles that any vain 13-year-old could have worked for. He had shiny black hair and unusual but striking sea-green eyes that sparkled against his light skin.

I was very drawn to him, even though he was a chronic womanizer. At 13, he was already such an accomplished chyker of girls. I am pretty good looking myself, and with good looks come the expectation that I should be a serial flirt. And so, I get bothered a lot about why I don’t chyke girls. I would often respond that I am a born again Christian. That always manages to shut those bothersome questions up.

My phone rang on that day and I picked it up to see that it was James calling me. James was the twin brother to John, both of them my good friends. James wanted to know if I could come over to their place for a sleepover the next day. I wasn’t keen on that – until he mentioned that Michael would be coming too.

And just like that, I was in. I hung up the phone and immediately began packing an overnight bag. Amongst the clothes I packed were tight shorts that drew attention to my ass. I wanted Michael to stand no chance when it comes to noticing me. After packing, I went to the barbershop to get a clean haircut.

Soon, the day was upon me, and it was evening time. I’d gotten permission from my mother, who didn’t hesitate to give it because she approved of my friendship with James and John. I got dressed, putting on my shorts and polo shirt, with a fez cap, which was my signature style. I was feeling fabulous as I sashayed out of the house to where my brother was waiting in the car. My brother is a Grinch (this you already know from this story), and was always losing his patience with me with little provocation from me.

As I slid into the car, ready for him to drive me to my sleepover, he snapped that I am a man and shouldn’t be spending so much time getting ready for anything. I simply rolled my eyes as I endured his tirade. My brother always acts like he is ashamed of me, never wanting his friends to see or meet me. He doesn’t seem to think that I was a good enough brother to him. And I’d grown to not care. After all, he wasn’t exactly the best brother to me either.

After a twenty-five-minute drive, we finally got to the gate of the twins’ home. Relieved to be away from my brother’s oppressive presence, I got down from the car and went in to be welcomed by my friends. The twins were two identical gorgeous boys. I’d always however had my suspicions about James’ sexuality; he was always asking me penis questions and telling me about how he would rather fuck the ass because he thought of the vagina as being “too loose and watery” (his words, not mine). He’d once barged in on me when I was in the toilet and asked why I never liked to go shirtless. Like he simply had to come into the toilet where my pants where down to ask me that. Anyway, the answer is that I was fat as a little boy and had even developed man-boobs. I’d been so ashamed of this that I never took off my shirt. However, I lost weight the older I got, due to ballet and working out, but the shame never really went away.

After I settled into the twins’ room, minutes later, Michael strutted in. He’d just arrived himself. As he bent down to drop his bag, I took notice of his toned ass cheeks. When he looked up, I quickly averted my gaze. He flashed me a smile and came over to hug me. He said something about me having the “H-factor”, a joke that made James and John burst out into laughter. (I would later find out that the H meant “homo”)

As I went back to the bunk and brought out my tablet, the other three boys settled around the twins’ PS3 to play a game of soccer. I’d never really being a fan of computer games, because there never were any dress-up games I could play on them. As I tapped away on my tablet, Michael turned and asked me why I don’t like playing FIFA. I told him I don’t like soccer.

He responded, “Real men like soccer. The reason you don’t like football must be because you act like a woman.”

This was yet another one of these taunts about my effeminacy that still had the power to annoy me. I was stung by his comment and my sharp tongue rose in my defense.

“Well, how has liking soccer helped you in life?” I snapped. “With thinking like that, it’s no wonder my shirt has a higher IQ than all your family members combined and raised to the power of ten.”

He stared at me in shock, his mouth dropping open and then closing. Then he turned around and refocused on his game. As the evening wore on, he tried a few more homophobic jabs at me, but he was no match for me, as I ruthlessly went after him and his IQ (he was more beauty than he could ever be brains). At a point, he broke down into tears and started threatening to call his mother to come pick him up.

To this, I retorted, “Real men don’t cry. The reason you are crying now must be because you’re such a baby.”

James and John doubled over with laughter. In fact, all evening, they’d been enjoying the escalating tension between me and Michael.

Much later, Michael came over to me and asked me to do something for him. He asked nicely, and I did it. And that became our reconciliation. We were friends again. And I was back to desiring him instead of despising him.

After dinner, I went to take my bath. In the bathroom, I began to notice how well the squats and pushups I’d been doing had improved my derriere. I was very pleased as I put on my tight briefs, sagging it to just below the top V of my ass crack. It was time to seduce Michael!

When I went back out to the bedroom, I was shirtless and went to fetch my sleeping shirt from my bag, bending over and making sure Michael’s eyes were on my behind. At this point, James remarked that he was surprised I could be dressed this little, with no top and just briefs on. I wanted to tell him a short story about how desire makes it easy for shame to be overcome, even if it was just for awhile.

The four of us gisted for awhile, and then it was time to go to bed. The twins’ bed was a bunk-bed, each large enough to accommodate two people. James had the top bunk while John had the lower one, and I was supposed to share John’s bed with him.

This meant that James was going to share his bed with Michael!

That slut!

Considering my suspicions about his sexuality, I was almost positive he designed this so he could have his way with Michael. But Michael was mine! If anyone was going to get his freak on with that brutha tonight, it was going to be me!

I clambered onto the top bunk, determined to sleep with Michael. There was some argument, but I was adamant. Eventually, James capitulated and went down to sleep with his brother. We hollered goodnight to each other and the lights were turned off.

It was in the middle of the night – maybe 2, 3 AM – when my inner demon woke me up. My head was resting on Michael’s chest, his essence wrapped all around me. It was such a turn-on and I found myself instantly growing an erection. I simply had to have him. It was now or never!

I moved my head until I was facing him. It was dark, but I could still make out the outline of his face. The hot air of his breathing was fanning my face from his nostrils and mouth. I moved forward and lightly touched my lips on his mouth. I withdrew and waited. He didn’t move. So then, I gently kissed him again. My hand flitted over his crotch and I could feel the gradually growing strength of his burgeoning erection. I was 13 and hadn’t had the experience of a variety of dicks to compare, but this one seemed like it was pretty big. Michael murmured something and moved a bit, leaning into my touch of his groin. I turned around and backed my ass against his crotch. And I was surprised by the firm touch of something poking at my ass. He couldn’t have gotten this hard that fast, could he?

Then I realized it wasn’t his dick. It was his hand. Michael was awake!

And he was now sliding his hand into my briefs to grab the bare skin of my butt. My heart started pounding, threatening to burst out through my chest. He moaned and then kissed me lightly on the back of my neck.

Is this truly happening? I thought wildly.

I didn’t wait to contemplate that question. I wanted Michael and he clearly wanted me too. I turned around and we locked lips, kissing passionately. Then I got more adventurous. I’d never had sex before, but I had seen enough porn and TV sex scenes to know my way around a man’s body. I broke the kiss to go after his nipples, sucking on them and lightly chewing them, causing him to let out soft moans. I trailed my tongue all over him, eventually going low enough to take his dick into my mouth. I sucked the head like it was a lollipop, before engulfing the rest of his 7 inches inside the warm wetness of my mouth. He gasped with pleasure and held the back of my head steady as he began to thrust in and out of my mouth. This didn’t go on for very long, as in my inexperience, I began choking and had to back away from his dick. I slid upward and kissed him again. Then I turned around and offered my ass up to him. He seemed to know exactly what to do, as he went down and claimed my honeypot with his mouth and tongue. I was trembling from pleasurable sensations as he rimmed me like he couldn’t get enough of my honey. I was in cloud nine! He had to put his hand over my mouth to quieten my moans, so I didn’t wake up anyone with my uncontrollable ecstasy.

Then he straightened and I felt him replacing his mouth with his dick. A flutter of fear went through me. Michael was about to possess me in the way no man had ever owned me before. He began to drive in, and that shiver of fear was replaced by slowly-exploding fear. I told him to slow down and he kept pushing his way in. The pain began to intensify, but so was the pleasure; the two sensations intermingled like two rivers reaching a confluence. And I was overtaken by the sensations, so much I soon began to moan as Michael thrust in and out.

“Yes! Yes! Oh yes!” I moaned as Michael pounded me.

“Oh Diego, you are so sweet!” he grunted behind me. “Oh fuck! Diego! Oh Diego…”

“Diego! Diego! Diego, can you turn on the lights please!”

Michael’s lusty moans had somehow turned into an alien voice snapping at me to turn on the light.

“Diego!”

That was John.

And I was no longer moving. Nobody was grinding against my ass or holding me or moaning my name. Feeling disoriented and acting purely on autopilot, I reached up and turned the switch, which was close to the top bunk. Light flooded into the room and I turned to see Michael sleeping calmly behind me. Turned out, it truly wasn’t happening.

John had gotten up to go pee, while I lay there, staring at the sleeping Michael and wondering if he could ever be the Michael I encountered in my dream: the one who possessed me in the way no other man had ever owned me.

Written by Mitch’s Biggest Fan