BEING BRUNO (Episode 12)

BEING BRUNO (Episode 12)

Previously on BEING BRUNO



You came out of the bathroom to find Demeji lying on the bed, under the covers and a dirty look on his face. Your stomach turned to mush and you could feel it slush from one side to another as you put one foot in front of the other and moved deeper into the room. He was looking at you, staring as if you were…

“Hungry?” he asked innocently although his tone betrayed the innocence he lacked.

You wanted to eat, but if his being in the bed meant what you thought it might, it would be better to get that out of the way before you get any more food in you. So you shook your head and said, “No, not yet.” Unless of course he meant, ‘Are you hungry for my sausage roll?’

“Good.” He said as he dropped his phone on the cabinet beside the bed before he looked back at you. “Aren’t you getting cold?”

You shrugged. “Not really. The water was pretty hot, so, I’m fine.” You however knew that it would only be a matter of time before the air conditioner would turn the air chilly.

“I see.” He said, and you briefly wondered if he did see. “And of course, you have all that hair to keep you warm,” he said, nodding at your chest.

You felt flushed, so you turned and slowly unwrapped he towel from around your waist. It was a really big towel, and you had had to wrap around your waist thrice. When it was all untangled, you spread it and draped it on the bathroom door before you slowly turned toward him.

“Bruno… you are such a tease,” he said, his eyes squinting slightly at the blue boxer briefs you had on.

“What did I do?” you asked as you got into the bed, under the covers.

“What did you do?” he asked as he snuggled closer to you. “Let’s see. You have kept this awesome body from me for long. Then you get to Lagos and you wouldn’t kiss me. Then you taunt me with your hard-on whilst I was driving. Then you were in the shower humming The Weeknd’s Earned It. And finally, you come in here all wet, your hair plastered to your skin, looking all sexy as fuck and you are asking, ‘What did I do?’ I think the question should be, ‘What have I not done?’”

“Wait a minute, that wasn’t all me!” you squealed.

“Wrong. It was. Just like this is all you, too,” he said before he leaned in and brought his lips against yours.

Your eyes fluttered close as you felt his lip settle between yours. You felt his hand on your shoulder, cold and warm all at once. Your arms lay at your sides, limp, unmoving. You knew you had to do something with them, but you were not sure what it was they should be doing. Your lower lip which was caught between his lips was getting warm, a certain hotness that spread across your face, but did not inspire shame.

You vaguely remembered all those times you imagined what kissing the hunk in front of you would be like. All those times, all you could do was imagine; now, it was happening and there was nothing to compare it with. He flicked his tongue over your lip and you felt an inexplicable sensation travel with his tongue. His lips tasted like warm chocolate of passion, you imagined his lips leaving a smudge of pink on yours.

He pulled away, but not too far because you still felt his breath on your face. You opened your eyes to find him staring dreamingly at you. Then he removed his hand from your shoulder and put it on a portion of the bed behind you. He hoisted himself over you, moving you with him until he was lying atop of you.

You thought his weight would squash you, press you against the bed and into his body, but he was holding his upper body up with his arms whilst his lower abdomen and everything beneath that was spread out on you.

He ran his right hand over your head, moving from your forehead to your wet hair and then rubbing at your ear slowly. “Your hair is so curly,” he said as if he had just discovered the ninth wonder of the world.

You smiled widely, feeling the ends of your mouth touch your ears. You felt like you could finally move your arms, so you brought your right hand to his shoulder, moving it up and down as your left hand found a place on his back, just below his shoulder blade. Your forefinger and the one after it stood on their ends, as if they were legs attached to an invisible person. They moved down his back till they got to the ridge of his pelvis and you discovered that he was buck naked. They retraced their steps till they got to that place just below his shoulder blade.

“Bruno, you are…” Demeji started, but you hushed him.

Your right hand crept up his hand to his neck, cradled it and brought it gently toward your face. “Less talk, more action,” you said in a voice that sounded alien to you.

When he leaned in for a kiss, this time, you met him half way, crushing your lips together. You sucked his lower lip in-between yours, and flicked your tongue over it. Your teeth closed slightly over it – holding, not biting – sucking on the chocolate.

Your legs mounted each of his and travelled up until they met in a comfortable angle. His hand found its way into your hair – gripping, holding, and not pulling. He thrust his crotch against you, his hard member pushing against yours which was still restrained under the underwear.

A groan escaped from between the two of you, you didn’t know if it came from you or from him. He pulled back and threw off the covers. Your skin felt the cold air, but it repelled it with the hotness that radiated from within it. A dance of ice and fire, winds of coolness and tongues of flames.

You opened your eyes to find him looking down on you through partly-shut eyelids, his mouth slightly open. His penis was rock hard, its head bobbing up and down at intervals. Your mouth watered. He scooted down your legs, his gaze never leaving your body. Your eyes stayed transfixed, taking in the sight of him in front of you – the short stubble on his chin, the dusting of hair on his chest, the flat stomach…

He bent his head and took your left nipple into his mouth. He clasped his lips over it, like a vice as his tongue flicked over it once, then twice. A hand found your right nipple, kneading and touching and tracing and tapping. You felt it go hard and pointed under his ministration.

You bucked and squirmed till he released your nipple from his lips and trailed his tongue down your stomach to your belly button, and then your treasure trail. You felt his hot breath on your skin, your anticipation growing with the lower his face went.

When he encountered your underwear, he dug his fingers under the waist band and pushed it down unceremoniously. Your dick which had been restrained by the cotton fabric bounced back and hit your stomach, right on your belly button as he pushed the underwear out of one leg before the other.

His tongue traced the underside of your penis, licking from the base to the tip, before he put his mouth around it and swirled as he went lower, and lower. Your pupils rolled back behind your eyelids, your fingers clutched at the bed sheet. He went halfway down before he stopped, then he used his left hand to compensate for the exposed part of your penis. He bobbed his head up and down a few times, keeping the tongue expertly placed.

His right hand found its way to your rear region, and without warning, he shoved his forefinger into the hole. You groaned and used your left hand to hold him from going any further. He stopped, pulling out the offending finger but leaving the tip still imbedded inside you. His mouth never leaving your dick, he released a few balls of spit that trailed down your perineum to your ass crack. With his thumb, he directed it into the hole before he moved the finger inside you again. Slowly, this time, inching in until it got to the end of the digit and he pulled out.

He did this a few more times and it became less of a discomfort and more pleasurable. Combined with the workings of his mouth, you were in the zone. He must have felt your sphincter relax because he released a few more balls of spit, worked it in before he introduced another finger.

There was a hot flashing sensation for a while, a discomfort that made you imagine that he’d said, ‘Fire in the hole!’ before he’d inserted the additional digit. However, it went away after a few seconds and all that was left in its wake was the tightness of your hole and the movement of his fingers – entering, digging, massaging. When the tip of his fingers touched your prostrate, you unconsciously buckled against him, raised your hand to his bald head and rubbed it absent-mindedly.

The fingers were pulled out in the same manner they were put in – unceremoniously – and then he released your penis from its hold in his mouth. He scooted up the bed, till he could reach the cabinet beside the bed. You heard him open the drawer and with bated breath, you watched his chest closely.

When his hands reappeared, they clutched familiar objects. You waited for him to ask you if you were ready, but all those times he talked about taking you in his arms and thrusting so deep inside you he will not find his way out and you’d smiled sheepishly must have culminated into a resounding everlasting yes.

You watched him climb off the bed. His cock, still rock-hard, shook – never bouncing. He stood by the side of the bed, tore open a wrap of condom and sheathed it over himself. A sweet smell rose in the air; his dick now covered in a transparent rubber shone under the light. He opened a tube and pressed it at the centre till a clear liquid escaped from the hole. He threw the tube at you and proceeded to rub the glob over his cock.

You knelt on the bed, pressed on the tube from the bottom till the clear glob appeared. You took a generous quantity on the tips of your forefinger and pushed it into your hole, slowly, expertly. It didn’t sting; you barely felt anything down there. You worked the glob in good.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him grab a small bottle, open the lid, bring it close to his nostrils and inhale deeply. He briefly closed his eyes and when he opened them, he raised his left eyebrow at you.

“Is that what I think it is?” you asked.

“Yes. Poppers…”

You wanted to ask him why he was using it but his hands were already on your waist, steering you toward him. You made to lie on your back but his grip grew firm. “No, I prefer doggy.”

Your heartbeat had increased at this point, and as you put your chest on the soft mattress, arching your ass up toward him, you felt your heart beating an irregular pattern in your chest.

“Try and go in slow…” you started to say before you felt inside you. He’d entered and thrust in to the hilt without forewarning and you grimaced. Your sphincter tightened, struggling against the unfamiliar object. You opened your mouth to ask him why he had done that but he was already moving inside of you.

In and out, in and out. The movement sent hot flashes of pain through you, sharp hotness that only grew with each inch of him that went in or out of you.

“Damn, Bruno. You are so tight…” he groaned and smacked your right butt-cheek.

You tried to move but your legs had grown heavy, his hands on your waist were like vice. A tear escaped from your closed eyelids and a sound you did not recognize grew in your throat.

Demeji must have interpreted the sound for something it certainly was not because he said something that brought back hot flashes of memory.

“Yeah, right? You like that, don’t you? You like that…”



You were walking from the toilet to your room when you saw him, bent over the bath, his arms working furiously at something. You entered into the bathroom and peered into the bath to where his arms were pressing a wad of something black into the hole.

“Uncle Onyebuchi, are you cleaning the bath?” you asked.

He turned sharply, like he had been shocked to find you there with him. His eyes narrowed at you, his lips pursed. “What are you doing here?”

Uncle Onyebuchi had been visiting your family in Onitsha for two weeks now and you had come to learn his cues. You knew he was displeased at your presence, so you let your eyes fall to your feet. “The door was open and I wanted to know what you were doing…”

You were at that age when they still let you wear a gown, that age when you spoke in a sing-song voice, when you were still handsome. It was at that age that your uncle would look at you and his gaze would waver.

He looked away then, only to turn his eyes on you yet again. His gaze was softer now, the frown morphing into a smile. “It’s okay. It’s just that I didn’t think you to be here. I thought I had locked the door behind me.”

“Okay…” you said, your gaze running up and down from his naked torso, to your feet.

“I am drawing up a proper bath,” he said, gesturing to the long white basin in which everyone stood to bathe.

“Aren’t you supposed to stand in it and pour water on yourself?” you asked.

He chuckled, shaking his head in the way he did when he thought you didn’t know anything. “That is not what the white man had in mind when he made this beautiful structure. It’s only the black man that has bastardized the bath-tub, just like we do almost everything else.”

“So what was it made for?”

He started to speak, but then stopped and turned on his heels. “How about I show you instead of telling you?”

You watched as he excitedly started scooping water from the drum at one end of the bathroom into the bath. He added a few drops of liquid into the bath before continued again. He made three trips with the big metal bucket before the water reached up three-quarters of the tub. When he was done, he gazed lovingly at the result. Bubbles had formed and floated atop the water, a sweet scent wafting through the room.

“Now, what?” you asked, wondering what the purpose of the bubbly water was.

“Now, we get in,” he said gleefully.

You started toward the bath but he reached out and stopped you just before you got in. “You have to remove your clothes first.”

You squinted at him for a moment, before you proceeded to remove every piece of clothing and climb into the bath. He removed his clothes and joined you. He sat down, and you did the same. Then, he gently submerged himself until only his head was exposed.

The water was moving, swaying and for some reason, you liked that. You scooped some bubbles in your hand and blew at them; they flew out of your hand and landed into the bath again. You scooped some more bubbles, as much as your hands could carry and blew at them. They flew off and landed in the bath, but some landed on Uncle Onyebuchi’s nose.

He looked at you and said, “Eh? You want to play, abi?”

You shook your head, but he had already scooped up some bubbles and flung them at you. You ducked, but some of the white foam landed on your head. Not wanting to be outdone, you scooped up some foam and threw them at him. He scooped up some more and dumped them on your head.

Knowing that your hands were no match for his, you forgot about scooping and just started paddling the foam at him. He tried to hide his face from you, turning his face to his left as he joined you in paddling and throwing foam and water at you.

You were giggling now, your legs uncontrollably jutting out under the water until your right foot connected with something hard. When the both of you stopped with the paddling and throwing, you were still giggling a little, out of breath and he was still laughing a lot, out of breath. You both looked at each other, and shared a smile.

“Uncle…” you started.


“Why is your pee-pee hard?” you asked.

His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. He was quiet for a while, turning his face to the side so your eyes could not meet his. His chest rose and fell, and his hands moved under the water. You wondered if he was trying to cover his pee-pee.

When he was finally ready to speak, he turned toward you. “Well, that is because that is how it works. Sometimes, it gets hard.”

You frowned. “But mine never gets hard.”

He cocked his head to the side, and raised his eyebrow. “Really? Like never?”

You nodded several times.

He pursed his lips before he said, “Well, let us see about that.”

He moved closer to you, his hand caressing the skin on your left leg as it travelled up until it reached your pee-pee. Then, he held it with his thumb and forefinger. The thumb started rubbing at the underside of your pee-pee, round and round, round and round.

The movement felt weird at first – foreign. Then you felt it growing, your pee-pee was growing!

The feeling was now good and wrong at the same time.

You must have broken out into a smile because Uncle Onyebuchi smiled back and said, “Yes, right? You like that, don’t you? You like that…”

Written by Uziel

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  1. Omiete
    September 06, 09:36 Reply

    Oh my!!!!! I had a feeling this was going to get dark.

  2. Lyon
    September 07, 15:14 Reply

    Can someone hold me, please?
    I can’t feel my legs anymore.

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