I said goodbye to Roland in Part 4. We were supposed to get together, explore the possibility of becoming something – but he was going away. Resigned from our workplace and was relocating to Port Harcourt. The distance just shot down any interest we might have had in being an item.

He soon settled in Port Harcourt, both at his new job and his new abode. We stayed in touch, chatting regularly. He was persistently romantic in his chats, always blowing hot on his desire to have me. Weeks snowballed into months. Life was going on. He got a girlfriend. Then he started becoming erratic with his intentions. One moment, he would be all mushy and loving, and then the next, it would be all about his girlfriend this and his girlfriend that. This time, he’d be all about how he can’t wait to ravish me, and the next, he’d be chomping at the bit about how wanting to have sex with me doesn’t make him gay. It was aggravating. I never knew which Roland I was going to get during each WhatsApp chat – the desiring guy who kept wanting me to come visit him in Port Harcourt, or the increasingly internally-homophobic guy who clearly had issues he needed to deal with.

“I don’t even know why I’m tripping for you,” he said during a chatversation. “You no be babe. You don’t have pussy. Pussy is what a real man needs.”

“I’ve never said I have a pussy,” I retorted, increasingly irritated by him. “You met me a man. You fell in lust with me, a man. Stop acting like you’ve suddenly realised that I’m a man and not a woman.”

His behaviour started making me not to trust him. So much so that when he came to Lagos on a work trip and asked me to come see him at Eko Hotels, where he was lodged, I declined. I had just seen this TV series called Cucumber, a scene where two men were hooking up, and suddenly one of them got a major attack of IH, took up a golf club and whacked the other one’s head in, resulting in his instant death. That scene always rose up in my mind every time I thought about Roland. He’d started sounding like his self-loathing could make him dangerous.

After my rejection over coming to see him at his hotel, he didn’t speak to me for a few days. I wasn’t bothered, to be honest. I’d about had it with him. Some days later, apparently after some reflection, he called me to apologize for his inconsistent behaviour. Talking about how he doesn’t know what has gotten into him, and how he is struggling because he used to be perfectly “fine”. And then he started getting close to me in Lagos and started feeling all these things that he wasn’t supposed to feel.

“Look,” I said to him, “you were not ‘fine’, Roland. You’ve always been this way. You’ve always had it in you. You just never realised it. Or maybe a part of you did, but you chose to live in denial. People live in denial all the time, until they don’t. Then it’s the journey to self-acceptance. Right now, we are on different levels of this journey. I am fine. You’re not. When you are fine, give me a call. For now, let’s just stop this back and forth. It’s exhausting.”

“No nau!” he protested. “Stop this. Baby, stop this –”

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.

“Ah-ah, has it gotten to that?” he said plaintively.

“Yes. Please don’t call me baby anymore. How do you even do that? With one side of your mouth, you’re calling me baby, and with the other side, you are questioning. Can’t you pick a lane?”

With that, I disconnected the call.

Months passed, months during which there was zero communication between us. Then, after about six months or so, he buzzed me out of the blue. He sounded different. Talking about how he’d worked on himself. That I should no longer hold on to what happened in the past. That he was no longer bothered by the things he used to be bothered by.

And so gradually, we rekindled our friendship.

Then I visited Port Harcourt.

I was going to stay with a friend, Ceejay, and I told Roland of my visit. He was excited, if a little forlorn that I hadn’t asked to stay with him instead.

But you see, however good he sounded these days, I still couldn’t trust him fully. Cucumber, people. That scene was forever on my mind. I’d even told Ceejay all about him and his weirdness months ago. And Ceejay asked if I intended to hook up with him when I get to Port Harcourt. I said yes.

“Then, gurl, we’re going to have to organise some protection for you,” he said.

Ceejay is a very connected guy, with contacts in the police. So, I knew he would be able to work something out that would guarantee my safety when I get with Roland.

I was in Port Harcourt a couple of days before I buzzed Roland, asking for us to meet. He asked where. I mentioned a joint. He asked how I knew the place. I told him I’d be coming with my cousin who knew the place. (I had told him I’d be staying with my cousin.)

“Hmm,” he said. “So, you’re bringing your cousin to come and see your boyfriend, eh?”

“Please, stop,” I said. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

“Baby, stop joor. What are you now coming to see me for? For us to read the bible?”

I laughed and told him we would see.

We met at the joint on a balmy evening. I introduced him to Ceejay, and as we hung out, Ceejay began to pepper him with questions. Such as where he lived and where he worked. Ceejay was a master; he worked his inquiries into the conversation, and when Roland answered the question about his address, Ceejay typed the information to his policeman friend, who was on standby to go to Roland’s neighbourhood to investigate him.

Eventually, the policeman responded, saying that from the much he’d garnered from Roland’s neighbours, he was a standup guy.

Ceejay took this as his cue to leave us. But he pulled me aside first and said, “My police guy knows someone staying on a street next to Roland’s. And he’s planning to stay there for the night. I’ll text you his number and him your number. If at any time during the night in Roland’s house, you feel threatened, just text him SOS. And he’ll be there sharp-sharp to set the situation right. Is that okay?”

I felt such a surge of gratitude and hugged him, while telling him thanks.

“It’s no biggie,” he said. “This PH is full of kito trash. We have to look out for ourselves. Be safe.”

And he was on his way.

Roland and I didn’t spend much time at the joint after Ceejay left. We settled the bill and he whisked me off to his place. And all through the ride, he kept talking on and on about how he couldn’t wait to fuck me. About all the things he would do to me. About this. About that.

It was a lot of noise, and I wasn’t impressed. I destroy dicks for brunch, and this one was sounding excessively like he wouldn’t even survive breakfast.

The night had fallen by the time we got to his house. He asked if I wanted to eat something. I said no. We were in the bedroom removing our clothes, when he said he wanted to take a bath. Then with a wink, he asked me to come join him.

“No, you go ahead,” I said. “I’ll take my bath after you.”

“Well, I want you to join me. I want you to help me scrub my back,” he persisted.

“I’m sure you can manage without me. I’ve not been the one scrubbing your back all the baths you’ve taken.”

“Don’t you know how to accept an invitation when it’s given,” he said with mild exasperation, smiling to take the sting off his words. “Must I spell it out for you? I want what we are going to do to start from the bathroom.” And he winked again at me.

“Oh,” was all I could say.

To be honest, I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with being alone with Roland. I didn’t want to be put in apposition where I wouldn’t be able to quickly snatch my phone and send an SOS text to Ceejay’s policeman friend.

But Roland seemed really genuine in his desire to have sex. His eyes were shining with anticipation and his boxers had tented from the hardening of his dick. I set my self-consciousness aside and conceded. Bathroom loving, it is.

However, when he shucked his boxers and I saw how averagely-sized his dick was, I knew without a doubt that there was no way Roland was going to give me the satisfaction I deserved.

The foreplay was really good. From the shower to the bed, his tongue worked magic and his hands groped and caressed and smooched all the right spots on my body. When he spread my ass cheeks and proceeded to eat my ass, I was very close to bursting out into an Alleluia chorus. He was that good.

Then came the moment we’d all been waiting for: when he slid his dick inside me and began his strokes. He was good. But not the kind of good that gets my toes curling. Not the kind of good that gets me gasping. Not the kind of good that gives me ishi mgbaka. And certainly not the kind of good he’d been mouthing off that he was capable of giving.

I spent the most part of the sex managing his expectations. Fighting to contain my boredom. Showing the appropriate emotions. Basically, acting my passion for him.

I must not have been a good actor though, because he’d occasionally say while panting, “Baby, is it not hitting you well?”

“It is,” I would assure him, before manufacturing that expression that’s a mix of pain and pleasure.

“But you’re not even making any noise,” he’d say.

And in response, I would start moaning.

To think that the worst thing I feared would happen to me in this house was a kito.

He came soon, and slid out of me, panting as he slipped the rubber off his dick and discarded it before flopping down on the bed beside me.

“Baby, you didn’t cum,” he said. “What can I do to make you cum?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’m fine.”

As I picked up my phone to text Ceejay that everything was fine and that his friend didn’t have to spend the night outside his house, I was already counting the hours till daybreak, when I would see the last of Roland.

Written by JBoy

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Something funny happened a while back and I thought I should share with you guys. I went on a short trip with my friends to South Western Nigeria; we stayed


    June 09, 06:53 Reply

    Lmaooo ???
    But look on the bright side. You are safe and you weren’t kitoed.
    After all the mouth Baba could not deliver. At least you didn’t shaaa fall asleep during the sex. Better luck next time.

    • JBoy
      June 09, 08:59 Reply


      Yeah, brighter side. I was safe but not satisfied.


  2. Mitch
    June 09, 06:58 Reply

    Hei Ghod!
    What is it with all these men and thinking g their dicks are gold-plated and would have us screaming in ecstasy?

    Common do, you don’t know how to do.
    It’s to be making noise about how you’d destroy my bussy and shii when, in fact, you’re just another epic failure the Orishas have lined along my path.

    Guy like this, AVOID ME!

    • JBoy
      June 09, 09:01 Reply

      My Darling, they should avoid us. Biko!???

  3. Posh
    June 09, 08:01 Reply

    Ooooh maaaaa goowaddd…..
    I have had such before.
    He promised he was this and that and when we met I was looking for the dick, It was so small tht i felt it was a clitoris…
    noisy people tho

    • JBoy
      June 09, 09:03 Reply

      The noise was too much faa!

  4. Legal Koboko
    June 09, 08:57 Reply

    “It was a lot of noise, and I wasn’t impressed. I destroy dicks for brunch, and this one was sounding excessively like he wouldn’t even survive breakfast”.

    Now this☝up there was my favorite part of the story. The confidence of it all. Oh damn!

    My second best lines? “He was good. But . . . Not the kind of good that gives me ishi mgbaka”.
    I had to laugh out loud at that one ?

    JBoy I swear you are a character. Lol.

    • JBoy
      June 09, 09:07 Reply

      Why do I have a feeling I know this Legal Koboko? Hmmmm!!!

      Peak, 7Up and Panadol Extra were right from the get go…”It’s in you”, “Diff is clear” and “If e no be panadol, e no fit be like panadol”

  5. Black Dynasty
    June 09, 10:47 Reply

    ‘Not the kind of good that gives me ishi mgbaka.” I was ????.

    Lol disappointment doesn’t even fully cover the feeling when folks over promise and underperform. People should learn to shh, and let there be no expectations.

  6. Delle
    June 09, 11:11 Reply

    So first it was Mitch and now, you, JBoy.

    How on earth do I know the both of you?

    It’s funny though how I’m about to ask this:
    Would you have preferred a kito situation? You seemed pretty dicksappointed with that man’s dickstuction ?????

    • Mitch
      June 09, 14:28 Reply

      The ones that have happened to you put together will be a complete joke compared to the next one ga-eme gi.

      Ya coming to laugh at our pain.
      Anya piakwa gi dia!

  7. Rex
    June 09, 11:32 Reply

    Have mercy on his ego…. please nah…. Have small mercy…lwkmd… So much for a talker.

    • JBoy
      June 09, 18:50 Reply


      So much for a talker…???

  8. KryxxX
    June 09, 12:01 Reply

    It’s those people that always brag about their meal being on a French Chef Ofe Owerri level that ends u serving you Mama Eli’s dry black okra with corn meal from FGCKA.

    Mstcheww! ? ? ?

    Talk less and let your actions prove your points.

    That stuff about empty receptacles making the loudest noise ?, that’s it up there ?????.

    At least he didn’t serve you a side dish of kito or, Cucumber. ? ? ? ? ? ?.

    Kene Chukwu biko.

  9. KryxxX
    June 09, 12:07 Reply

    And oh, let’s give him credit for almost getting you to belt out Alexandra Burke’s Hallelujah cos of his A1 foreplay skills, shall we.

    At least he is not on the “I suck at for foreplay or I don’t do foreplay” table. ?

    Tupu mmadụ abụrụ ogbenye wee bụrụkwa amuosu.

    • JBoy
      June 09, 18:59 Reply

      Honestly, he deserves some accolades for his foreplay skills as, he was greatly into the very sensitive parts of my body.

      “Tupu mmadụ abụrụ ogbenye wee bụrụkwa amuosu”, okwaya Nna.???

  10. Higwe
    June 09, 12:26 Reply


    Roland just disgraced us “average ” men .
    My dick is average too or at Least I think it’s a grower but I gurantee you …I haven’t fucked anyone who didn’t want a second round ….

    Big gbolas are overrated to be honest …it’s all about skill .

    “However, when he shucked his boxers and I saw how averagely-sized his dick was, I knew without a doubt that there was no way Roland was going to give me the satisfaction I deserved”

    Do away with this misconception sweetie ??‍♂️.

    • Audrey
      June 09, 23:06 Reply

      From the description of your body build you’ve given off here I wasn’t expecting anything less nna…

      And you see all that talk of”It’s not in the size but in the use”Aburokwa for munwa cos the that monstrous mighty look already gets me in cloud9 so nna as it stands now….AVOID ME

      PS:I hurt when getting drilled by a SMALL dick please I’d like to know if I’m alone on this table bikonu

    • Ardent Reader.
      June 10, 00:07 Reply

      Please I want to meet you already.Kindly drop me your email.thanks.

    • Ardent Reader.
      June 10, 00:08 Reply

      Higue,Please I want to meet you already.Kindly drop me your email.thanks.

      • Audrey
        June 10, 10:27 Reply

        Palms over the mouth screaming#Ashewoooooooooooo#

  11. Bussy
    June 12, 00:35 Reply

    Nawaho average dicks aren’t that bad , if the guy knows how to use it ?
    unlike me if dick isn’t small or average i wont let it slide inside me, I just can’t stand big dicks , ah mean I’ll get married someday and wont want my husband cheating on me cos my ass ain’t tight as a result of taking big dicks during my bachelor days ?.
    Besides I like people who cum quickly, i find it funny wen fellow bottoms sham tops who couldn’t go beyond 5minutes,like how do you guys even go about this too?

  12. Obiora
    June 12, 05:26 Reply

    Lmao… Too funny.

    Bia Audrey, so you like them big monstrous dick…? Bikonu, what is an average sized dick?

  13. Mandy
    June 14, 07:31 Reply

    I’m just here marveling at your friend’s connections. Like damn. To have police contacts do your bidding is something I need in my life. As in, I need a police and army lover. Universe, are you hearing?

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