So, there’s this guy, let’s call him Philip. I met him at the cinema in Jabi Lake Mall. We happened to be seeing the same movie and sat beside each other at the cinema. He was average-height and stickily built. He was wearing shorts with a T-shirt and sneakers.

The cinema was mostly filled with couples, and we were the only two guys seated side by side. And I remember leaning toward him at the start of the movie to say with some amusement that it must be weird that we’re the only two guys seated together, that people who looked at us would probably think we’re gay. I had a smile on my face that I hoped would communicate to him that I was neither trying to hit on him nor questioning his heterosexuality, in case he was a straight guy.

But he turned to me and with a half-smile said, “And what’s wrong with being gay?”

The response was so unexpected that I was momentarily speechless. A thought instantly communicated itself to me. The answer, the look – this guy most certainly worshipped in the same parish as me.

That interaction summarily turned us into movie buddies. He was nice and sweet, and we laughed and conversed and exchanged opinions about the movie as we watched, as though we had come to the cinema together, as long-time friends.

There was also a sexual tension simmering beneath the camaraderie. If I wasn’t so apprehensive of the stories that there are cameras installed in cinemas that enable the powers-that-be to observe whatever shenanigans movie-watchers are up to in the shadowed halls, I don’t know – maybe something might have gone down right there in the cinema.

However, when we were done and stepped out into the bright daytime of the mall, Philip suggested we go over to his house. He lived in Asokoro. I knew that if I went with him to his house, sex was surely going to happen. And I’d only just met him, so I declined. Besides, I believe in building a friendship before sex.

It was obvious that my declination wasn’t what he’d expected. He looked disappointed, but didn’t take any offense. Instead, he gamely asked me for my number. We exchanged contacts and he asked to drop me off wherever was convenient for me on my trip back home, to which I agreed.

In the following weeks, we chatted a lot, video-called and all. He was always sweet and never failed to let me know that he liked me, persistently asking for us to meet up, that he was horny and needed me. Eventually, after sufficient time and communication had passed enough for me to believe we had a friendship, I agreed to a meet.

I met him at his place. And it wasn’t long before we got down to business. I love foreplay and his foreplay was on-point. When I was welcomed into his house, he offered me red wine. We drank a little and then he came for my lips. It was such a sudden move that at first, I simply sat there and let him kiss me. Then as his lips moved insistently and seductively over mine, I began to kiss him back.

Our kisses began turning more desperate as we got each other hornier by the minute. Then he pulled back from the kiss and began trailing his lips down my body. He yanked off my shirt and took my nipples in his mouth, one after the other. His lips and tongue were everywhere on my body, kissing my neck, my nipples, my navel – and then finally, my dick. His lips wrapped tight around my dick as he pulled it in and out of his mouth, pausing occasionally to place rough kisses on the swollen head.

God! He was so good at giving head. At some point, I thought I was going to die from the waves of pleasure crashing through my body. I was visibly shaking as I gasped for him to stop and just fuck me.

And without hesitation, he obliged me. after gearing up with protection, he pulled my legs up and pushed his pulsing dick into my clenched hole. That moment felt like the apex that all the foreplay had been leading up to. He began pounding me, our grunts and moans ripping through the room. His long dick was hitting deep inside me as he slowly slid his cock in and out, while holding me in place with his hands. And then minutes later, he was going faster, with the speed of one nearing his climax. I gripped my own member in my hand and began to jerk myself off.

By the time we both came, we were replete with satisfaction. The sex was really good.

It was getting late and I needed to go home, so there wasn’t much time spent on post-coital cuddling. We had agreed earlier that he would drop me off to where I’d conveniently find my way home. And so, as I began to get dressed, I reminded him that we should get going.

“Get going where?” he asked.

“To drop me off,” I said. “You said you were going to drop me off, remember?”

“No, I can’t,” he said.

“What do you mean ‘no, you can’t’?” I asked, shocked by the declination.

“Exactly that,” he said with the dismissiveness that was alien to the guy I’d been getting to know the past few weeks and had just shagged. “I have some errands to run in Gwarinpa, so I can’t drop you.”

“But we agreed…” I was starting to get angry. “Besides, I live around Gwarinpa. At least drop me there on your way to your errands and I will find my way home.”

But this dude refused. He simply couldn’t be bothered to be courteous anymore. In that moment, I could see him for who he truly was: a Yoruba demon who played the game to get what he wanted, and now he’d had it, was done with playing.

I was very angry; not that I’d invested any emotional attachment in him, far from it. I felt very inconvenienced by having to find my way home after I’d relied on him dropping me off. An agreement is an agreement; he should’ve told me right from the onset: Oh, by the way, after I’ve fucked you, you’re on your own.

I left his house in a very foul mood, feeling used and cheated. I didn’t bother to let him know that I’d gotten home and he didn’t take the trouble to text to know if I was home. We simply went from good sex to radio silence.

And then six months passed. And guess who called out of the blue?


He didn’t waste time; he simply went straight to apologizing for his bad behaviour the last time we saw. He was sorry, he didn’t mean to be such an asshole, he didn’t know what happened to him, yada, yada, yada.

And then he went straight to why he really called – he was horny and “can we please see again?”

“Sure,” I said. “Where?”

He told me of an ice cream and yoghurt shop in Jabi.

“What time? I asked.

“6 pm,” he answered promptly.

I agreed.

And then I never showed up. By 6, he called and called. But I didn’t bother answering his calls.

However, I will call him in six months’ time and apologize for being an asshole.

Written by Richard

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  1. WaleWills
    August 30, 07:42 Reply

    Nice plot twists!

    Good way handling the matter.

    But do people really act like this?

    • Pink Panther
      August 30, 07:44 Reply

      You’ve not encountered assholes in the gaybourhood?!!

      Count yourself a very lucky man, my friend.

  2. LBB
    August 30, 08:42 Reply

    Haha. Savage response, that ending

  3. mikkiyfab
    August 30, 10:02 Reply

    @WaleWills oh my dear people do. Something similar happened to a friend of mine who after being persuaded and convinced by a guy( actually a class mate of mine) that he( the guy) loved him. What he told me was that after the sex the next thing the black Yoruba demon said was “GET OF MY DICK YOU BITCH” and proceeded to actually throw 100naira note at him saying that was his worth, he then drove my friend out of his house … in a long run after mama told me all this she still went back again another time to get nacks… when I asked she was like ” I haven’t felt so alive in a long time. his dick TAKES ME TO HEAVEN”…well what can I do I kukuma locked up but I know she will still cry and coman meet me

    • Pink Panther
      August 30, 11:30 Reply

      Demon is to Yoruba as Princess is to Disney. There’s no explanation. It just is.

  4. Eric
    August 30, 20:08 Reply

    I was even thinking it was Delle that wrote this. This is his specialty (treating people’s fuck ups), lol. Well done Richard.

  5. Eggsy
    August 30, 23:19 Reply

    Whoever you are, I love you.

  6. Bee
    August 31, 01:50 Reply

    While reading this, I started getting bored (I mean, I’ve read a thousand similar stories on here). But as I got to the end, I burst out so hard and woke my mom.

    All of you, the message is simple.

  7. Vic
    August 31, 03:59 Reply

    “Yoruba demon ” What does that mean? Also likes the way you pay him back….Awesome job!

    • Pink Panther
      August 31, 05:07 Reply

      You must not be Nigerian for you to ask what Yoruba demon means. lol.

      • igbo deity
        August 31, 05:22 Reply


        • Pink Panther
          August 31, 05:26 Reply

          LOL. A Yoruba demon is a young man, typically of Yoruba descent, who has a way of making women fall easily for him, but will end up playing with your heart. It’s Nigerian slang for a Playboy.

  8. Cocent
    September 01, 10:02 Reply

    Hell hath no fury like a gay man scorned…
    Revenge is a dish best served cold
    Nice one Richard. LOL!!!

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