ONE MILLION NAIRA AND MY HOMOSEXUALITY WAS FOR SALE

It was 2016 and I was browsing through Badoo (Badoo was my choice app for hookups because of the demographic I am attracted to. I like older men and I’d noticed that they mostly prefer Badoo to Grindr). I was swiping right for cute men, and for once, I didn’t find any attractive enough or interesting enough.

I was contemplating logging out when I got a notification that I’d just received a message. I clicked over to my inbox to discover that it was a message from a white man. My instinct was to ignore the message and delete it, because I thought it was probably one of those yahoo boy scams. But on second thoughts, I opened it to read. It was a lengthy message from this Caucasian man soliciting me for sex.

For his wife!

According to him, he was married to a Nigerian woman and wanted to know if I’d fuck his wife while he watched – for a fee of course. He wrote the amount in dollars, and when I did a quick mental calculation, it amounted to a million naira.

This arrested my interest at once. Because God knows I needed that million naira. (I still do, by the way). I texted back to say I was interested, but in my mind, I simply wanted to see where this was going. A part of me still believed it was a scam. He replied, asking for us to take the conversation over to WhatsApp. So, we exchanged numbers and the conversation continued on WhatsApp.

Before we went far in the WhatsApp chat, the person on the other end revealed to me that I wasn’t chatting with the man on Badoo, that I was actually on to his wife, and that this was something her husband liked. I asked her if the picture of the Caucasian man I saw on Badoo was actually that of her husband, and she said it was, that the Badoo account was his and they both use it to solicit men for their kinks. I said okay. We then got talking, to at least get to know each other a bit. Apparently, she was also from Delta State like me, and this information helped ease things between us. She sounded well-traveled and sophisticated, woke, like she’d been exposed to various cultures beyond the Nigerian border. Which wasn’t surprising to me considering she was married to a white man and considering the amount of money they were looking to hand over to satisfy a sexual kink. The more we chatted, the more comfortable I felt with her as someone I could be friends with. We exchanged pictures, I sent dick pics and then we planned a date.

They lived at Apapa, one of those nice estates there. On the day of the date, I was very apprehensive. I’d never been with a woman and I wasn’t sure if I was capable of being one of those gay men who are able to fuck women. I thought about buying Viagra, but I didn’t have the guts; I was worried about the side effects and what the person behind the counter of the chemist would think. So, I dropped the idea and decided I would just shut my mind and think hard of some dude I’d fucked and hope it would help.

I got to their estate that evening by 4 pm and called to let them know I was the gate. The Husband drove down to pick me up. He was an okay-looking man, seemingly in his sixties, tall, quiet-mannered, with salt-and-pepper hair. He was wearing shorts which gave a good view of his long, sun-tanned legs. I have no hang-ups with having sex with men of different races, so I thought – well, if he was going to be in the room, then I might just be able to sustain an erection.

Boy, was I wrong.

We got to their house to meet the Wife already in her night robe. She was just as she looked in the pictures she sent me; late twenties, slim, pretty and dark-skinned. She offered me a drink and I asked for Smirnoff. We made small talk while I sipped on my drink, all the while, trying to stifle the flutter of apprehension in the pit of my belly.

You can do this, Jimmy, I psyched myself. Think of the 1 million naira! You can do this for the sake of that money!

Soon, the Wife went to the Husband, and they both started making out. I watched them. They went at it for a while, before the Husband broke the kiss to announce that we move things to the bedroom. With all my psyching, the moment he said that, my apprehension bloomed. My insides were wound up in knots, and I struggled to smile back when the Wife smiled encouragingly at me. I was nervous as fuck!

We got to the bedroom and the couple slipped out of their clothes and went to the bed and continued with their kissing. I am into straight porn, so as I watched them, I began to get an erection. I undressed and moved to join them, and the Wife let go of her husband and started touching me. However, the moment she reached for my dick, I instantly went limp.

Oh God no!

She tried to kiss me but I moved my mouth away from her. The thought of getting that intimate with her made my insides curdle. She must have sensed my resistance to the kissing and then focused on my failing erection. But whatever she did was an exercise in futility. It didn’t help that she was starting to give off her female pheromones, and while I find the male sex scent very attractive, the few times I’d encountered the female scent had been a huge turn-off for me. The Wife’s pheromones were on full blast and fucking up my libido big time. We both struggled for a while to get me hard. She gave me a blow job. It didn’t work. Hand job. Nothing. Alternating between blow job and hand job. Nada! The Husband sat separate from us, watching, wanking and talking dirty. I suspected the dirty talking was more his thing than it was any attempt to help with the situation.

God, it was all so depressing and exasperating. The Wife didn’t seem ready to give up. She kept blowing me and giving me hand jobs. But I wasn’t getting hard. My dick was starting to chafe from all the tugging and it was hurting me. I had to call it off. I told her there was no point. At this point, I was entirely flooded with mortification. God! I couldn’t even look at any of them as I got off the bed and began dressing up. I apologized to the couple, muttering something about how I wasn’t in the mood. They didn’t say a word in response, but their disappointment was thick enough to let me know just what they were thinking.

I fled from their house. The Husband saw me off to the gate where I took a bike straight to the estate gate. I didn’t look back. And after that day, I didn’t try to contact them. I didn’t hear from them either. That was how I lost a cool million.

I later realized that the reason I was contacted on Badoo was because my profile read “open minded”. Whereas that Badoo feature was what closeted gay men on the site used to communicate their homosexuality to other gay men, it would seem as though they, as a heterosexual couple, interpreted that to mean men who are into sexual kinks.

Written by Jimmy