Thoughts of that night still snake into my consciousness like a dream. It has been a few years, and yet I still cannot believe the incidents of that night.
Like I said, it happened a few years ago. I’d met the man on Grindr. He was an Army Officer who was in his late forties. After much chat spent on getting to know each other better, we finally agreed to meet a bar.
I was a nineteen-year-old with little experience with men. My first time had been with a short, yellow-skinned man who was a photographer. I played both roles the day we met, but I enjoyed the bottoming more. He had a small dick, so the pain of bottoming for him was almost negligible.
I’d always preferred older men with good looks. So it was a win for me when I finally met the Army Officer on Grindr. We did a video chat and I was able to see that he had everything I wanted. All I’d dreamed of. Big dick. Good looks. He was matured-looking and well-built.
I could hardly get my mind focused that day as all I could think of was him. I reasoned that perhaps after a few drinks and some talk, we would get to know each other better and there would be frequent visits to his place as we lived close. I wasn’t in a rush because I thought about getting into a relationship with him.
However, on getting to the bar that night that we’d planned to meet, I soon realized that he wasn’t about taking things slow. He came to the bar clad in a black tracksuit trousers decked with white stripes and a black T-shirt that revealed the outline of his broad chest and erect nipples. As he settled next to me, I noticed he wasn’t wearing underwear. His bulge was proud; it revealed a thick and long dick with a large mushroom head. I felt my dick grow inside my shorts and my mouth became watery. I wanted to grab his dick and hold it. And stroke it till it hardens inside his trousers.
But we only shook hands and smiled at each other.
And then, moments later, he was leading me away from the bar.
This was when it became apparent to me that there would be no few drinks and small talk. My Army Officer wanted to fuck, and I wasn’t even mad about that.
Common sense deserted me. It left me at the mercy of curiosity and lustful imaginations as I followed him towards the opposite direction from the bar. My mind wandered and I had so many thoughts running at the same time. There was no fear, just anticipation, and my sense of reasoning was suppressed. I followed him, wordlessly stomping down the road as we moved toward whatever destination would afford us the privacy we needed.
We walked through streets, down a lonely bridge and through an empty market compound. We reached the front of a hotel, its premises which harboured a bar filled with loud music and louder patrons, and we walked past it. We got to a long street where traders were selling wares in night market, and we walked past it.
I was starting to get anxious. Worry niggled at my mind as my patience stretched thin. My body and my mind had conflicting desires. I wanted to turn around and walk back home, but my body urged me on, tempted by what was to come. Our trek wasn’t entirely silent; he would often remark on something or go on a monologue about something else, but I was barely listening.
Then he stopped in front of a street gate and gestured for us to go in through the narrow entrance. I assented.
It was a lonely street. Abandoned vehicles stood at both corners, houses looked taller than usual and even though it was dark, I could still see the potholes, the black waters pooled in them reflecting the lights of the stars up above.
I recognized the street not long after we walked in.
It was Babatunde Street.
Coincidentally, earlier that day, in the morning, I had woken up to a crowd of people gathered downstairs in front of my father’s compound. They were neighbors. They were talking about a thief that was caught in Babatunde Street.
I joined in their conversation and found out that the thief had tried to break into a widow’s room in the middle of the night. Unfortunately for him though, the woman wasn’t sleeping. She had grabbed him and began to scream, raising the hell that swallowed the thief.
I became apprehensive as I realized where we were, thinking it odd that the night of the day this street was the subject of a conversation I was part of, here I was, passing through it for a clandestine affair.
But I followed the Army Officer still. I could sense that we were close to our rendezvous, and anticipation had resumed thrumming through my system.
Soon, he stopped in front of a parked danfo, and I stopped next to him. He led me round the parked vehicle to the back and sat on a pavement just beside a dried-up gutter. I sat next to him.
So this was it then. There’d be no bed and no sheltering of a roof; just us out here with the skies as our witness.
He kissed me as soon as I sat next to him, the contact of his mouth against mine sending sparks of pleasure running all over my body. His lips were wet and warm. His mouth was full and it took up almost all the space inside my mouth. He sucked at my lips and his hands reached up to squeeze my chest. His hands were strong. He pinched my nipples and I winced. I didn’t know if the frisson running through my body was from the chill of the night or the thrill of desire.
I reached for his dick and held it through the fabric of his trousers. I felt it grow inside my palms. My libido was at its peak. It was raging.
But I was very aware of the fact that we were outside, and my alertness was not entirely dulled by my passion as I occasionally glanced around for passersby.
I loosened the rope that held the trouser cinched at his waist and dug my hand deep inside, feeling his bare dick. The shaft was thick and very hard. He was well hung and I couldn’t get my hands wrapped around it properly. I reached for the tip and felt the wetness of his precum. Using my finger, I spread the precum all over the head of his dick and he moaned in pleasure.
I freed my mouth from his kiss and bent, meaning to suck his dick. But he stopped me. He pushed my head away and my heart began thumping very fast as I looked up and saw, in the distance, people approaching. We hastened to our feet and pretended to urinate, after which we left that spot and started walking again.
Almost immediately, we found another good spot. We went round the derelict-looking bus that was missing two tyres. All traces of apprehension had completely left me. All that was left was a burning desire. The Army Officer quickly grabbed me. He held me tight and kissed me. His lips were wet with sweetness. I wrapped my hands around his butt and squeezed it. The cheeks were soft and smooth. I ran my hands all through his body, squeezing his chest and pinching his nipples. I knelt down and untied the rope that held his trousers. I took his dick in my mouth and tasted the salty sweetness of his precum. But I couldn’t take in the entire shaft. I tried valiantly though. I sucked him as deep as I could manage, using my tongue to occasionally lick the head. He put his hands on my head and began to thrust forward, pushing his dick deeper into my mouth with each thrust. He was fucking my mouth.
I wearied of that soon and I broke apart and stood up. We went back to kissing and stroking each other’s dicks as well. And it wasn’t long before I began to spasm as cum dripped downwards from the tip of my dick. There was still cum on my dick as I placed it back inside my shorts, before proceeding to focusing on wanking him.
I was so single-minded in my attention to his dick that I didn’t notice movements from behind me until I heard a voice.
I registered the closeness of the voice and the astonishment in it. And I froze.
For a millisecond, I was unmoving. Fear gripped me.
Then that second passed and the fear released me, pushing me into motion.
I dashed out from behind the bus, pushing past a man holding a stick. He fell very hard on the ground with a yelp, but I didn’t stop to check on him. I didn’t look back. I didn’t even want to see if he was chasing after me.
I was almost at the end of Babatunde Street when I looked back and saw more people moving towards the bus where moments ago, the Army Officer and I had had privacy. The same spot where I’d left him to flee.
I increased my pace, running at a speed I never knew I had, dodging large stone rubbles that were scattered on the ground, jumping gutters that were too wide for me, leaping through street corners, through shortcuts leading to my place.
It was not until I got to a busy road that I slowed my running to hurried steps, slowly catching my breath. I maintained that speed. And a few minutes later, I was home.
I walked in to see my siblings having dinner. Their many eyes swiveled onto me, taking in my harried appearance. I walked past them into the bedroom and sat on the bed. Sweat from my body dropped on the floor. My heart was still pounding when I decided to go have my bath.
All through that night, I wasn’t myself. There were flashes of images of the thief that was caught that morning in Babatunde Street streaking through my mind, even though I didn’t see him. I could only imagine the brutality he suffered in the hands of the outraged residents of the street. The many bruises on his face and how bloodied the welts on his back would have been. My neighbors had talked about it.
Imagine if those residents of Babatunde Street had caught me, what would my neighbours have said about me?
The Army Officer called me after I was finished with my bath. He told me about how he’d managed to escape. The man with the stick had pounced on him, shouting until the other people crowded them. The Army Officer started shouting back, that he was being harassed for simply urinating, protesting at the top of his voice and accusing the man with the stick of invading his privacy. The man with the stick had objected, saying he had seen two people together “doing something” behind the bus and that the other one had run away. The crowd wasn’t sure who to believe, and after much debate, eventually dispersed without harming the Army Officer.
It took me days to recover from that experience, and then the Army Officer and I met again, this time in a friend’s place. I wasn’t about to risk another night on Babatunde Street or anywhere else in the open.
Written by Fred