HOW DID YOU START?
That’s a question that most guys ask each other in the first stages of their acquaintanceship. And it has been asked in every way conceivable.
How did you start?
How did you enter this game?
Have you always been like this . . .?
. . . Or did someone initiate you?
That last part always gets a good laugh out of me, because the question sags with cultic connotations. Just another way the society has intentionally or unwittingly influenced both its heterosexual and homosexual populace with the thinking that homosexuality is something dark and sinful.
But this piece isn’t one about the injustices of the society on the gay community. No, that’s the kind of heavy stuff I leave for folks like Absalom (lol). This write-up is about that question that acts as a conversation starter in most instances –
How did you start?
I’ve been asked that a lot of times, and depending on the person, medium (whether through a social media chat, face-to-face or over a phone call), or advancement of our getting-to-know-each-other, I give varying moderations of the same story. I know I’m not about to hook up with all y’all right here (What am I, a slut?), but I’d like to share that story here anyway.
My discovery of my sexual penchant for boys started like a cliché – in a boarding school. I was a boarder. My school wasn’t all-male. We had boys and girls, and both sexes had a healthy sexual appetite for each other. By day. Because by night, in the privacy of the hostels, boys fucked each other like rug rats. Wait, perhaps ‘fuck’ is too strong a qualification of the things we did with each other in dark corners and deserted spaces. Then again, I didn’t know boys ‘fucked’ in my school because I never went all the way, and it wasn’t until my university days that I listened with wide-eyed amazement as some old secondary school friends talked to me about their sexcapades that incorporated everything. Everything.
But I digress.
As a junior student, I didn’t know all these perverted sexual things. The only person I’d kissed at that age was the girl next door at home – a much older girl next door who made me cringe with distaste from her after she dipped my finger into her vagina. I felt the gummy, slippery interior (Urgh!) and I jerked my finger – and body – away from her, vowing that I was never going to get back in there again.
And so, I went through life in my junior classes a greenhorn, content to worry about the only thing junior boys were supposed to worry about. Mundane things like school mealtimes, classes, seniors and hostel chores. And my life would have been just so easy, if I didn’t have this pesky classmate who simply loved to bully me every chance he got.
His name is . . . let’s call him Chimaobi. He was dark-skinned and burly, with lips that always seemed perpetually curled with a sneer whenever I saw him. He was born and bred in Lagos, and had the rough, uncouth attitude that we had come to expect from all the male students who lived in Lagos. He was vicious too, a really vicious bully, and I was almost always his longsuffering target. He was both my classmate and hostel-mate (we were in the same House), so there was no running away from his troublemaking. Even when I was made the class captain in our JSS2, he simply couldn’t be bothered with my authority. That brat made my life hell in ways that the senior boys couldn’t have imagined.
And then, we were in JSS3. I was still the class captain. And Chimaobi was still my nemesis. However, that one night changed everything.
It was the close of prep that night. As the class captain, I was required to – at the close of prep – locate whatever classroom the prep prefects had studied in, and hand whichever one I saw the list of those who attended the prep in my class. All junior class captains did this. We would give the prefects the lists and then return to our individual classrooms to lock up and disperse. In other words, we were always truly the last ones to finish from the night prep.
That night, I’d submitted my list and was back in class, at my desk, sorting through my books and all-what-nots. Just then, I felt a presence at the doorway, and when I turned and saw who it was, my heart sank. It was Chimaobi. I instantly began to plead, asking him to let me be, I was exhausted and was in no mood to endure his bullying. But he simply kept silent and advanced into the class. I just had time to see that he wasn’t wearing his usual evilly grinning expression, before he turned the light switch and plunged the classroom into darkness.
Just great, I’m finished, I must have thought frantic words like this, before I started circling away from him as he approached. He circled after me. I bumped into lockers as I tried to evade him, but he kept after me, making sure to maintain his position between me and the door. I begged and sobbed, and he remained silent, only speaking out in a hiss for me to be quiet when I raised my voice in a desperate shout for help.
And then he finally lunged, and pounced on me, catching me in a tackle that took us both to the ground. By this time, even though tears still streamed down my face, I’d resigned myself to whatever cruel fate he had in store for me. So you can imagine my total shock when, instead of the slap that I expected to rocket across my cheek, he planted his mouth against mine in an awkward kiss.
God have mercy! What is this!
I was nonplussed. I didn’t even struggle against the foreign invasion as he rubbed his lips over mine, and started to poke at my locked teeth with his tongue. Kiss me now, kiss me, he whispered fiercely against my mouth, before attempting to pry open my teeth again with his tongue. When I remained immobile, more out of shock at this turn of events than out of defiance, he reached his hands up, placed them against my chin, lifted his head and hissed, If you kiss me, I won’t beat you again. That sounded like an entreaty, and something changed for me in that instant. He ceased to seem to me like the monster who had tormented me for nearly three years. His dark face was no longer menacing, and those lips were no longer sneering. I had a sudden yearning to feel them on my mouth again.
So I nodded. And Chimaobi arched his head toward me again, and kissed me. This time, I kissed back. Slowly. Gradually. And then, heatedly. I kissed him with reckless abandon. I was thirteen, inexperienced and didn’t know enough Social Studies to know what Nigeria was on about then, but I knew one thing for sure: I wanted to go on kissing these lips that belonged to this boy. I felt so many new, strange stirrings that I didn’t want to go away. When his hands groped for my groin area and stroked my penis, it felt very welcome. And when I found his, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. We necked heavily, fondling and kissing and gasping and smooching so much I felt as though I would burst from the heat of it all. I mean, this boy – this fellow thirteen-year-old JSS3 boy – knew all his moves, how to kiss, how to touch me, where to nibble, what to suck to get me gasping for more.
When I think of that experience today, I can’t help but wonder how he acquired his knowledge, how he knew all he knew and was able to effortlessly assume the role of a teacher to me. And our classes – oh boy! – our classes were the best I ever had in JSS3. Clandestine meetings, always at night, in rendezvous points such as the back of the music room, the farthest points of the school field, the bushy part of the hostel backyard, on our beds in the dead of the night. I fell absolutely and hopelessly in love with him, and always found myself gasping ‘I love you, I love you’ during our kiss-smooch-wank sessions. He remained my lover until that final term of our JSS3 session was over, and we went home for our holidays, a period during which I did nothing but think about him.
Long story short, by the time we resumed in SS1, I met the rude shock of his dumping. He’d outgrown me. There were other boys for him. There were also, as I soon started to find out, other boys for me too. So don’t cry for me, Argentina, the truth is I didn’t grieve for too long. I soon found another mate to kiss and smooch and wank with, and that has been the story of my life since then.
That is the story of how I started.
What about you? How did you start?
I remain yours faithfully, Pink Panther.
Do follow us on twitter: @panther_blog or to SHARE and DROP YOUR COMMENTS. And for any submissions, let us have your stories at pantherptb@yahoo.com.
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37 Comments
therealsalte
June 05, 06:24Lolz. This is so good a piece. As for me I know that I love guys as early as when I was 6 or 7. Only that the sexual part started when I was about 14 or 15. I just can’t forget my first kiss.
Caligula
June 05, 06:34Interesting story but I find the title a little odd. The question “How did you start” suggests that homosexuality is something that could have been prevented? And in my opinion is almost as bad as the “did someone initiate you” question. “My First Time” or something similarly phrased would have been better? (In my opinion).
pinkpanthertb
June 05, 06:49That’s the whole point. I’m simply relating the error in the wording of the question usually asked. Almost no one says ‘What was your first time like?’
rapu'm
June 05, 06:55Me, I didn’t start. It was just there, I had always known. A little boy of maybe six dying for Westlife and Michael Jackson and that uncle in our compound and my friend H. My first kiss was with a neighbour, with the ‘uncle’s’ small brother, my agemate. In the full stare of other kids who didn’t think it was abnormal. It’s surprising how as kids all these things don’t matter, until we all go to secondary school and learn to ‘fear difference,’ as Chimamanda puts it.
Chizzie
June 05, 07:14I was 4 years old and I went up to my neighbours place one day…and all I remember is taking turns giving he and his brothers blowjobs.
pinkpanthertb
June 05, 07:16*gasping* at FOUR?! :O My oh my!
trystham
June 05, 07:23bwahahahaha! Lawd!!!! You haf tay sha. Whether u did it willingly or not, dose guys shud av bin seriously flogged…if I’m correct to assume they were much older than u. I loathe paedophilia of any sort
KingBey
June 05, 17:25You can’t possibly remember what you did at age 4. Easy on the hyperbole abeg.
Chizzie
June 05, 18:06That’s the one thing I distinctively remember about being four, our brains become photographic when we undergo traumatic events, and I’m guessing for a 4year old..being (orally) gang banged, wouldve been traumatic
CeeCee
June 05, 19:51I beg to disagree bro
, my earliest memories start from around age 4, I remember quite a few things that happened to me at that age. Research has shown that our memories generally start around that age as well …
JustJames
June 05, 07:16I didn’t start. It’s always been there… but I did have my first smooch ss2 on the bunk of a friend. And along with it came a massive guilty conscience. I’d avoid the boy then get horny and go look for him again…
kendigin
June 05, 07:41Just kiss, smooch and wank?? Like SUPER LAME! I will tell mine in another story….but brief synopsis: my 1st sexual experience was with my cousin. No kissing or wanking. He was much older, mostly started by him jst laying on me. Then gradually progressed to fucking my laps.
I was 8yrs. Had no idea what I was doing, other than I liked it….and loved him like mad!
pinkpanthertb
June 05, 07:51Yea you always get to love your first like mad.
CeeCee
June 05, 08:50In rhe Desperate Housewives series, Bree Van De Kamp said to her gay son Andrew ‘Andrew I’ve always known you were gay long before you even came out to me, I mean when you were born your placenta was probably a glittering rainbow colour’ … I guess thay just about sums me up, from as young as age 4 or 5, I already knew I liked men,long before I could properly grasp the concept of sex/sexuality, this is why I get so offended whenever I hear comments from homophobes as well as gays with internalised homophobia such as “being gay is a bad habit you pick up and you can drop it if you wish” or “people are not born gay but taught to be gay”. I honestly hear that I shall attack someone physically someday over that comment. Anyway, I found a wank partner in primary school, in secondary school the guys always found me despite changing schools 3 different times (both day and boarding schools), I often wondered if I emitted some sort of gay hormone/pheromone/vibe that drew them to me. This continued up till university and a few more times afterwards,now smartphones and a network of friends do the job effectively … lol
pinkpanthertb
June 05, 08:55Well CeeCee, let’s face it. Your gay pheromone is that you’re pretty. Too pretty to be ignored. Lol. 🙂
CeeCee
June 05, 09:11Oh Gawd! You irrepressible flatterer!! Pinkie, you don start again abi, trying to make my face blush a bright pink and to make me miss step and fall over on my face. E no go work joor *walks away carefully perched on 12-inch bright red louboutin heels*
pinkpanthertb
June 05, 09:35Hahahahahaa! Oh CeeCee
Deola
June 05, 21:48CeCe is simple awesome.
Chizzie
June 05, 09:39yes CeeCee is a very fine girl… 🙂
alpha papi
June 05, 09:49Honestly speakin…all of u dat r sayin u started at 4,5,6 nd so on,I must say ur parents failed in ur upbringin,especially u chizzie,givin bj at 4…wtf????I’m dissapointed rily smh.
kendigin
June 05, 10:19@alpha papi ur suffering from a serious case of internalized digested homophobia! And its a good thing the world does not functn on ur “disgust”. With pple like u, we dnt need gay bashers or haters arnd.
Am sure if we said we had a crush on a girl or kissed 1 @ age 4, u won’t complain then. Smh! Its ur own parents that failed u! Nonsense
alpha papi
June 05, 10:29ken y d hate tho,nd I ws actually likin u o,I’m jusy bin honest sha.jst sayin my mind.
CeeCee
June 05, 11:38Alpha papi, yes you’re entitled to your opinion,but I must say your level if intellectual stupor is alarming. This comment can only come from the deepest recesses of a mind eaten up by a hopeless case of internalized homophobia and made infinitely worse by a twisted mind which is unable to or has refused to open up (am confused as to which is the exact case, Kendigin said it all … people like you assume that it is somehow of a superior and tolerable genre for a boy of 4 or 5 (which is extremely common)to smooch around and play around with girls, where however it occurs among children of the same sex, you (not minding the fact that you are yourself gay or bi) recoil in your self righteous disgust and turn up your noses. Finally, it is your own parents who failed (totally and woefully) in their role as parents on various fronts 1. The wasted money (a characteristic peculiar with fools) educating you as you can read and write yet your mind has resisted a basic function of education : open mindedness
2. They woefully failed to inculcate in you the importance of being true to yourself (to the best of your ability given the prevailing circumstances)
3. Having failed in 1 &2 ( see above), they failed to lock you up in a padded cell where imdividuals who spew out such crap as you have just done rightfully belong.
Review the above but I fear the damage has been done and you are too far down the creeks …
KingBey
June 05, 17:37Fuck you @ alpha papi…what made you think that how you feel matters? You come here to talk about home training and parental upbringing while forgetting your a bloody faggot? You need your dysfunctional brains checked…once again, FUCK YOU !!!
Deola
June 05, 21:50Dude people go through different shit in life. One would think with you being gay and knowing how we are stigmatized, you would be less inclined to judge others.
QueerBoi
June 08, 06:36Mehn! This young man said it all… *hats off* y’all grieving bitches should learn from his comment.
xpressivejboy
June 05, 09:58I think I already know who this Chimaobi guy is…a part of his real name is in CHIMAOBI.
Nice One, Pinky.
CeeCee
June 05, 11:44Umm … one of my university flings was named Chimaobi sef, a rather passionate fellow … the times wr had!! Ahh those good old days …
Chizzie
June 05, 13:38@Alpha Papi like I said earlier ur comments always come across as dim, I was going to say analphabetic yst but that would be putting it lightly. if u are going to make a fool of urself, do it in the confines of your home not on an internet platform.
I was 4years old, so common sense should tell you that I probably would’ve been very easy to manipulate and persuade. Are u that dull, that I’d have to explain that to you? Just refrain from making a fool of yourself regularly, because it’s becoming sad
Deola
June 05, 21:53As usual, well written. You have a unique way of capturing the details of a scene, its quite marvelous. It makes for a well enjoyable read.
Deola
June 05, 22:02On an unrelated note, its nice to finally have a gay Nigerian blog like this. I usually frequent thebacklot.com and queerty.com and while both a wonderful, its nice to have this one that is completely tailored to my needs. Thanks
pinkpanthertb
June 05, 22:11You’re welcome, Deola. 🙂 It’s always nice to have brothers like you around.
john
June 06, 04:01Nice one
aproko pikin
June 06, 15:08U all need deliverance…..Jesus is calling U to repent else U perish.
.
.
Hw did I get to this blog if I weren’t ‘tb’ in the first place
Iduke
June 07, 13:42Truth is. We will never gain acceptance fighting ourselves. And we will never have a future if we insult our folks. Please let’s be open minded to one another.
muscle hunk
June 28, 10:20Started in a boarding house too , also with a guy that bullied me, kinda realized at an early age that most guys that bullied me( I had more than one bully ) was sexually attracted to me
Had one that wud insist on standing and watching me shower
When I came back ss1 bigger , more masculine and muscular. I refused to be bullied or forced and then the order for sex from my bullies turned to begging
Life became awesome from then
pinkpanthertb
June 28, 15:02Hehehee!!! Life indeed is good.