Growing up, I had a huge crush on Dubem.
Dubem was every definition of a beautiful man. Dark, muscular, athletic, with the most beautiful set of sparkling white teeth.
I came from a privileged background, and he and his gang were part of those street urchins your mum never wants you to associate with. They lounged around the borehole where we fetched water, smoking like chimneys.
Being an effeminate boy, I was often the object of their mockery. The would constantly scoff at me with different names like “omeka nwanyi” and “boy-girl”. Eventually though, I ceased to be so fascinating and they got bored or tired. Dubem however suddenly wanted to be my friend. He was feared in the area, so he used his influence to get me to fetch water before others and no one dared challenged him.
Eventually he proceeded to flirting with me, calling me his wife and using all sorts of endearment on me. I was half in love with him at this point.
And then, he invited me to his house. Upon getting the invitation, my mind came alive with endless possibilities of what his intentions were for me – for my virgin self. My sexual experience at this point was just a couple of hand jobs and sucking of nipples. So, imagine how elated I was that this hunk was going to deflower me.
I lied to my parents that evening, told them I was going for a crusade to pray for my admission. And then I set off for Dubem’s. soon, I got to his compound, and then into his flat. He welcomed me, clad in very white skimpy boxers which didn’t do much to hide his very visible, large penis. His chest was bare and ripped and glistened like a black porn star about to get into action.
He told me to have a seat and asked me what I wanted to drink. I declined the offer for a drink, suddenly feeling nervous and skeptical at this point. He left the place where he was seated and came and sat beside me. I could feel the heat of his body and was getting heady from inhaling the beautiful manly fragrance emanating from his incredibly hot body.
He held my face, like he was about to plant a kiss, then seconds later, an outburst of laughter broke out in the room. Startled, I jerked away from Dubem and looked around in horror.
The whole gang was in house.
The most menacing amongst them, who could pass as their unofficial leader, came forward and said to me, “You come fuck, abi? Oya, pay fuck money!”
They were all over me with their scorn the entire night; they didn’t beat me, but they roughed me up some, with Dubem intervening and asking them to take it easy on me. They stripped me naked and recorded me, claiming that they’d post it on Twitter and Facebook. That is, if I didn’t come up with something by the next day.
They took my phone and my wristwatch and tied me up by the door, when they had to retire for the night. Around 5 am, they released me, telling me to tell my parents I was robbed at the crusade centre.
Still petrified with the fear of being exposed through their threat of posting the recording of me on the social media, instead of going on home, I went straight to the bank to withdraw the last cash I had on me, which was 100 grand, a gift from an uncle. When I returned to them with the money, that leader protested; he had demanded for more. The others were just pleased I’d come back with this much money and prevailed on him. So, then he sent me off with the warning that he should ever catch me flirting with any guy, they would release the recording.
That was the last time I would see a Dubem in a long time.
There were conflicting details about his whereabouts as the days turned into months and into years. Some had it that he went to be an apprentice in Lagos. Others said he went to South Africa to do drugs. Whichever was the case, I was relieved he was out of my life.
I put the incident behind me, got an admission, graduated with top honors and through the help of my uncle, got employment with a respectable company.
Two years into my job, the company transferred me to their new branch at Awka. I was looking for a new apartment when I walked into this very beautiful compound. The compound had everything I needed but the rent for an apartment there was on the high side. I was negotiating with the caretaker when he informed me that the landlord, who lives abroad, was around. I asked to meet him and, lo and behold, it was Dubem. Even more handsome than I remembered. His body was still chiseled and ripped, but now with a bit of flesh.
He hugged me like I was some long-lost brother. This is the same person who had a knife to my throat the last time I saw him. He said I should stick around, that he’d like to have a drink with me. I don’t know what kept me, what made me override the resentment I was supposed to feel – and I stayed, waiting for him till he was done supervising what he’d come to the compound to check on. Then he came to me, placed one of his muscular arms around my shoulders and led me to his car, a Range Rover.
We went to a nearby hotel where some men – people who worked with him, by the looks of it – were already seated and drinking lavishly. He introduced me as his cousin and asked me to order anything I wanted. Champagnes were sparged, chickens were devoured. I quickly noticed that when they wanted to exclude me from whatever conversation was between them, they spoke with code, and only included me in the mundane parts of their conversations.
It was getting late and I made to leave. Dubem asked me to relax, that he had rented a suite and we could retire to it together for the night. I had to swallow hard at this invitation, trying hard not to remember the first time he’d invited me to his personal space.
Eventually, at about midnight, his company departed and we made our way to his palatial hotel room. Ensconced inside the room, he told me he needed to shower as he’d been running around since morning. I watched him casually undress before me like it was the most natural thing in the world, his taut, muscled ass jiggling as he strolled powerfully to the bathroom while humming to himself.
By this time, I was fighting hard to suppress my mounting erection. My throat was dry. And my heartbeat was escalating to a roar.
A few minutes later, he stepped out back into the room. He was drying himself with a towel. His enormously-large penis was bouncing casually in plain sight. After drying himself, he proceeded to wear a very skimpy brief that really left nothing to the imagination. And then he lay on the bed.
And thus ended the unintended striptease I’d just bene subjected to.
We started making small talk. He asked me about my parents, asked if I still kept in touch with anyone from our neighbourhood, asked me what I’d been doing so far, was impressed with my grades, said he’d always known I was intelligent.
I noticed he never asked me about my dating life, if I was seeing anyone or planning to get married.
After sometime, the conversation switched to him. Life hadn’t always been rosy for him, he said. He told me about how he was among the boys who hustled to survive, and how he went to prison. He left out major things from his narration, like what his hustle was. It was drugs. But he didn’t have to say it. He spoke with his eyes and he knew I understood everything, even the things he chose not to talk about.
We were spent. I made to lie on the coach, but he told me to come to the bed. That he used to share a bed with about twenty guys and had no issue sleeping on the same bed with a guy. And so, we slept.
In the morning, he was all dressed up. He told me he had to be in Enugu to supervise the house he was building there. Then he called the caretaker of his house and asked him to give me a favorable discount. Thereafter, he drove me to the fast food joint where I’d parked my car and bade me goodbye.
As I was drove back to my parents’ house that morning, I thought about the kid that held a knife to my throat and robbed me of my valuables. I thought about the scoundrel who joined his mates in stripping me of my dignity.
Then I thought about the man with a past. The incredibly attractive man with a tight, black ass, who walked about naked with utmost self-confidence. I thought about the arrogant bounce of his enormously large dick. I thought about his laughter that reverberated throughout the room and his beautiful smile hadn’t changed.
I hadn’t asked for his number. And he didn’t ask for mine either.
But as I drove to my parents’ house that morning to begin preparations to move into my new apartment, I knew one thing for sure: I was still very much in lust with the man who kitoed me. And maybe a little in love with him too.
Written by Song Taehee