It was all the hair on his person that attracted me to Bala first. He had a full head of hair, and sprinkles of it all over his arms and on the part of his chest that was visible above the top of his shirt. He also had this rugged bad boy look about him that strengthened the attraction I felt for him.

We were in front of the WAEC HQ in Yaba, Lagos, for the purpose of submitting a letter to get original certificates for the previous year’s GCE. I initiated the conversation with him, and soon, we were clicking like we were old friends. Perhaps it was the frustration of having already been turned back more than twice on the grounds that “the person collecting the letter is not around.” Maybe he liked me the way I liked him. I don’t know. But one thing was for certain: in that hot afternoon, I was heavily in lust with the hairy, rugged-bad-boy-looking Bala.

Before we parted ways that day, we exchanged numbers. And, boy did we talk. In the days following that afternoon, we talked and texted and talked some more. And with each call or text, I kept slipping in innuendos, hoping Bala would catch my drift, and luckily welcome my subtle advances.

Finally, after some pressing on my part, we decided to meet and hang out. The arrangement was for me to go see him at his place. When the day dawned, I was so giddy with the excitement of getting to set my eyes on Bala’s hairy loveliness once again.

I made the trip to Abule-Egba, the outskirts of Lagos that I barely frequent. I called Bala, and he gave me directions to a filling station, where he’d be waiting for me.

“I’ll be waiting for you there,” his voice had sounded in my ears through the phone connection.

He’ll be waiting… He’ll be waiting… I kept thinking as I darted across the road to the other side, feeling my penis swell in my snug jeans.

I met him at the filling station, dressed in a shirt and jean shorts, manifesting the glory of his hairy legs. He had big toes, and I’d read somewhere that big toes meant the owner has a big dick. Oh yes, just what I want!

We talked as we trekked down a bad road beside the station. Soon, we came to a block of flats. Bala’s place was on the ground floor. As he opened the door to usher me into a modest living space, he told me that he stayed with his elder brother who had gone to work. At this time, my heart was playing ‘tinko-tinko’ with excitement. He proceeded to get me comfortable, by turning on the TV and offering me a drink.

And then, he said, “You mentioned one time that you’d like to give me a massage.”

Oh yes, I had. Aloud, breathlessly, I said, “Umm, eh, yes I did.” My tongue was dry, and I felt a tremble work its way over my body.

He got up and said he needed to get something. Not suspecting a thing, I said ok, and continued sipping on my drink, comfortably perched on the couch, and waited. And then, to my eternal shock, Bala burst back into the room, brandishing a machete, with a mad look on his face.

My instant thought was, Oh God, I’m dead, I’m dead…

“So you want to fuck ba?!” he snarled in a menacing tone. “You want to massage your father, abi?! You want to convert gay me, eh?!”

I managed a feeble “No” before he slapped the side of the machete on my thigh. The pain ricocheted throughout my entire being. I gasped, “Bala, please… please…”

“Shut up!” he roared. “You! See, I’ll just kill you, you hear me?! My brother is a police officer and I have all your messages! Oya! Remove your clothes!”

“Bala, please…” I felt utterly helpless.

“I said shut up!” And then, he proceeded to lash out at me with the machete, yanking at my clothes as he did so, telling me he had people waiting outside who would finish me. Next, he took his phone and started taking pictures of me as I cringed in my nudity and tried to shield my face from the intrusive camera lens. Then he rummaged through my pockets and retrieved my phone and wallet.

As he went through my wallet, he barked, “Where is your money?”

Momentarily confused, I didn’t respond.

“I said, where is your money?”

“Please… that’s all I have…” I replied tearfully.

He hissed, “Oya, wear your clothes! By this time tomorrow, I want to see ten thousand naira. Don’t worry, I’ll contact you!” And he waved my phone at me. “Now, get out! What are you waiting for?”

When I said I didn’t have transport fare, he threw a two-hundred naira note at me for a four hundred naira trip.

“Don’t forget, tomorrow,” he said after me as I made for the door.

I eventually got home that day after trekking to cover some of the distance. I met my mother in the living room, and upon keenly looking me over, she asked why I look disheveled. I replied that I’d scuffled for a bus home.

“Then why didn’t you call when you saw my missed calls?” she queried. “And by the way, where are you coming from?”

“My friend’s place…”

“Which friend is that?”

I hastily supplied a name. as she advanced on me to closely inspect my disheveled appearance, I knew I had to say something to assuage her suspicions. So I delivered an incredulous tale of being involved in some scheme to dupe me at Abule-Egba on my way back home, adding that I lost my phone and transport money in the process. When I was finished the story, my mother relented and bade me to go take a shower. But I still sensed her doubt. The woman seemed to believe there was something off about my entire me that day.

The rest of the day was uneventful, until my mother received a call and then called me to hand the phone to me, saying, “It’s for you.” Her eyes were on me with surprise; no one had ever used her line to contact me.

“Hope you have gotten my money ready?”

If I were white, I’m sure the colour draining from my face would have been very obvious when I heard the unmistakable voice of Bala. How did he get my mother’s number? My phone has been locked, oh my God!

Knowing my mother’s gaze was on me, I feigned I was having a conversation with my long-ago friend from secondary school, talking about how I’d lost my phone as I moved further away from the earshot of my mother. And then, I told Bala in a hissed whisper that I couldn’t get the money until about three days. (I couldn’t get the money, even if he had given me a year!)

After a barrage of questions from my mother when I returned her phone to her, I went to bed. And lying amidst the bed covers, I kept on praying that I would wake up and this would all be a bad dream.

Two days passed without incident and all seemed fine in the world, until mother asked about my phone again on a Friday evening. I did my best to corroborate my previous story. And that’s when she said, “Stop lying to me, you can only deceive yourself.”

My heartbeat started racing, just as I felt her bedroom walls start closing in on me. I couldn’t speak as my mouth had gone dry.

She went on, “For the past two days, this your ‘friend’, Bala, has been calling this number, saying that you owe him money. You better tell me truth, what happened to your phone? In short, where did you go to the day you said you were going to see a friend?”

My head was spinning, as I frantically pondered what to do. To tell the truth? NEVER! To try another lie? That seemed like the better idea. So I started stammering another explanation, one which my mother cut short mid-speech, and said cryptically, “Consciousness is an open wound. Only the truth will heal. You can go.”

I left her room befuddled by the words she’d just said to me.

I was jerked awake the next morning by a flurry of slaps on my face and body. I blinked my way to wakefulness to see both parents staring sternly down at me, with my father demanding to know what had happened concerning my phone and who “this Bala fellow is.” Apparently, my mother had brought my father up to speed on the situation, and the man was spitting mad. He interjected his queries with frequent slaps across my face. My mother, being the product of a stern upbringing, decided that some detention time in a police cell would shake the truth out of me, and she proceeded to call in a favour with an old friend, just as her younger brother came upon the scene, which had moved to the living room.

My uncle (the man who abused me at an early age, by fucking my mouth with his penis #StoryForAnotherTime) quickly took charge of the situation when he heard what my parents had to say. From the knowing look he threw me, I knew he suspected rightly what must have happened to me. I was ordered to my room, to remain there while the rest of the family dealt with the ‘crisis’.

The day waned, and it was in the evening that my uncle finally came to me in my room, to deliver the good news, along with another mouth-fuck. As he panted with desire, writhing beside my unresponsive body, he talked about all that had happened that day. How he had handled everything. How he met with Bala, and hashed it all out with him, giving my blackmailer the impression that he had succeeded in outing me to my family, and that there would be no money for him. Bala had retreated, reportedly satisfied with himself, and believing that my uncle was an authority in my family who would see to it that I was punished for my homosexuality.

But you see, my uncle is gay, and what he knows that my parents don’t know won’t hurt me. And so, that was how I gained my freedom from that fiasco with Bala, my hairy rugged-bad-boy-looking attraction.

Written by Moth

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  1. daniel
    October 02, 06:29 Reply

    I’m so sorry for what happened to u… I don’t wanna be judgmental.. But y can’t we avoid this sought of Kitos? I mean the ones we walk into with our eyes wide open.

  2. JArch
    October 02, 06:30 Reply

    His name is Moth…. He’s naturally attracted to a flame…. He got burned

    Sorry man, just trying to make light of your predicament. But next time, let your head do the thinking not your cakes lol.

    • Mr Bassey
      October 02, 16:08 Reply

      Lol….when Toto dey clap, head no set hear anything else… I can’t really blame him for thinking with his cakes.

  3. Keith
    October 02, 06:48 Reply

    Sad story, but the uncle thing is real, there are some personal experiences i would rather not talk about. Am sorry but you just gotta be careful fiction or not these shits happen, i make it a personal point not to get fucked figuratively except literally

  4. simba
    October 02, 06:52 Reply

    Oh sorry dear.. prays such evil never happens again .. and u need do sumfin abt ur uncle.. maybe talk to him.. he doesn’t have right over ur body,sorry mouth

  5. Dennis Macauley
    October 02, 07:00 Reply

    I am so sorry you had to go through this, but really some of these gruesome kito stories can be avoided.

    Hitting on a random straight guy you just met will never be a good idea. We always get into trouble when we think with out cocks and not our brains!!!

    • chestnut
      October 02, 08:19 Reply

      Well, it’s not so strange to meet a “new friend” and pally up with the person; that’s how some “straight” frndships are formed…however, I don’t know the content of the conversations Moth had with the Bala guy, and how much of himself he put out there (consciously or unconciously) without first gauging Bala’s personality and mentality (that might be d only place I would fault him; it appears he offered d Bala a “massage” without first having at least, a semi-concrete idea of Bala’s sexuality?…I wouldn’t do be that presumptious). It’s possible d Bala guy didn’t initially set out to deceive,until Moth started being suggestive; maybe at first, Bala thought it was going to be d beginning of a normal frndship between two straight guys.

  6. #TeamKizito
    October 02, 10:45 Reply

    Hmmm. I’m guessing this your uncle is not a fine man.. (SGP: secret gay polices with pink uniforms should help curb this kito menace. Just a thought. IMM)

  7. s_sensei
    October 02, 10:51 Reply

    The world is a terrible place. That’s all I can say. Moth, I’m sorry.

  8. Paul
    October 02, 11:18 Reply

    Pls kill ur uncle for me. Rat poison helps. Its neva failed! U r justified
    I jst hate d idea of being used-Its rape
    And as 4 Gala sorry Bala I jst tink he isn’t str8
    A str8 guy who is deeply irritated by queer advances wuld either nip it in d bud outrightly or tk it a little farther jst to confirm his suspicions n stop U ryt there.
    Its jst a low life G guy who wuld stoop as low as stealing ur phone n blackmailing u.
    Bt wat do I knw?- idiots evrywhr ds days.

    • king
      October 02, 19:25 Reply

      Haba was it not GCE kinda results they went to collect??? Every agbero now wants to take the exam and the result so the fact that he met ONE ah…you can’t fault that jo…he walked right into his trap!

  9. gad
    October 02, 11:29 Reply

    I don’t know why a guy will see another in this our type of society and start assuming.we should try to discipline ourselves and make caution our watchword at all times. The type of fear and timidity that characterize the kito stories we read hear is disappointing.How can a guy get physical with me and seize my property?How can a one-man squad over power me? Na wao.Like I have always said,one weapon against a blackmailer is to stand up to him.I hope you have learnt lessons from this. By the way,I was molested by my maternal uncle and my paternal aunt when I was a kid but strangely, I don’t have any bad feelings towards them.

    • Dennis Macauley
      October 02, 12:18 Reply

      Gad the over powering doesn’t come about by just the weapon. The real fear is them attracting a crowd and it’s attendant consequences!

      So most guys would rather just settle with the one vicious enemy, than have to deal with a vicious crowd.

      If you ever witness mob justice against gay folk, you wouldn’t wish your enemy that

      • pinkpanthertb
        October 02, 12:23 Reply

        Even if there was no mob, consider this particular scenario n the fact that Moth could have been less physically built to withstand Bala in the event of an altercation.

  10. #TeamKizito
    October 02, 12:24 Reply

    And this Bala had proof: “….I have all your messages!”

  11. Anonymous
    October 02, 12:54 Reply

    I went through a myriad of emotions whilst reading this piece.
    First was madness at a country and culture that would give people like Bala power over unsuspecting people.
    Second was straight out astonishment when I was dealt the “abuse” part of the story.
    All in all, this story has succeeded in making me sad today.

    Note to all, if you’re going to be meeting up with anyone … always I repeat “always” do so on your turf.

  12. Lothario
    October 02, 12:55 Reply

    Wow! This is the frying pan, hot oil and the fire all rolled into one…..I do feel for you.

    Glad you made it through, that’s all I can say. But this hunger for straight boys has got to stop. If someone isn’t gay, or you’re unsure of his sexuality, please do yourself a favour, admire him from afar and stay exactly there far!

    As for your uncle, you’re an adult, maybe it’s time to take a stand on that, OK?

    • king
      October 02, 19:32 Reply

      Easier said than done for the str8t guy crush!!! We just Kant keep our hands off em…so that’s why I make sure I put them in their place just before I strike….usually whenever that happens am prepared so they are always taken by surprise with my attraction to them…..so they either just say no, allow me first or plan bad later….happy to say..the later never comes!

  13. Khaleesi
    October 02, 15:11 Reply

    wow … what can I say? your Uncle is a monster am sorry to say, I’ll take a wild guess that his abuse started before you were of legal comsenting age. That’s just so wrong on all fronts! ! terrible, terrible thing to do!!

  14. Williams
    October 02, 15:25 Reply

    Lagos is such a scary place to live in!!!

  15. king
    October 02, 19:19 Reply

    Wow! That was a kito story alright..but when did this happen and what an uncle you have!

  16. cappuxpress
    October 06, 23:01 Reply

    I’ve dealt with the Uncle situation (a disgusting case).
    Thank you so much for sharing in a piece of me, from a colourful past, I appreciate the comments.
    Being a teenager & “different” is a trying time when growing up especially in our country.
    Hopefully, others draw strength & learn + we should be united for our “difference” breeds diversity and the sayin goes “variety is the spice of life”

    Most of all, thank you Pinky

  17. Wildsaint
    October 09, 21:06 Reply

    Your Uncle is really your saving messiah..#winks# uncle with benefit..Becareful nexttime..cos uncle wouldn’t mind fucking his nephew now through the ass..Anyways as for hairy whatever Bala,,::He is doomed.. Khaleesi..the uncle is not only a monster,,an EPIC ass as well

  18. musclelad
    October 25, 13:18 Reply

    You uncle might av saved the day but he I a sick sick human being…. Pedophile

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