THE UNEXPECTED REBOUND

A few years ago, my boyfriend of about three years at the time called off the relationship. Even though I taught myself before I met him not to allow certain emotions get me down, I am human, and the shock of the breakup was something I struggled to handle. I worked hard to keep it together for about a month or so, not letting the breakup affect my daily living.

Then one day, out of the blue, everything I hadn’t dealt with came crashing down on me all at once. The bitterness manifested itself into a sudden resentment for anything homosexual. I started staying away from gay guys who had any interest in me and was hanging around my straight friends, desperate to be straight and ignoring the voices in my head reminding me of the battle I had to go through, the countless prayers, fasting and deliverance, to get to where I was.

A little over a month after my breakup, I moved in with some of my straight friends. It was a big house and we all had our rooms and stuff. I spent most of my time locked in my room, constantly high on marijuana and occasionally some pills I could get my hands on. I didn’t want to deal with anything or anyone, not even the friends who I moved in with for the purpose of enjoying their company.

One day, while I was rolling a blunt very early in the morning (say 5-ish, because I was having trouble sleeping at the time), one of my flatmates (let’s call him Iyke) knocked on my door. I let him in and shortly after, he asked if I would follow him somewhere. He was supposed to meet up with some guy he had business with – you know, the business of staying awake all night and sleeping during the day. I agreed to go out with him. After he left my room, I took a shower, and before I brushed my mouth, I smoked half the blunt. Then I put on burgundy sweatpants, a red durag, a white hoodie, white socks and white slides. Iyke and I left the house in his car at about 6am; it was cold outside and I was already in my zone.

After a few minutes’ drive, we were pulling up on our destination. Before we stepped out of the car, Iyke called his friend to let him know we were outside. He told us to come on in. as we walked up to the porch, the door swung up to reveal this average-looking, slimly-built brother with caramel skin and full luscious lips. I would later learn his name was Johnson. He had a full head of dreads, had on neon-coloured shorts, a grey hoodie, and white socks on his feet. (Yeah, I did a quick assessment of him and he was fire).

We entered the house, and Iyke quickly excused himself and vanished upstairs, leaving me downstairs with three other guys in the living room. After exchanging handshakes with the guys, I sat down and began minding my phone. Every now and then however, I would look around and meet Johnson’s eyes on me. And for whatever reason, this made me really self-conscious and somewhat uncomfortable.

After a while, because the quiet was starting to get really awkward and Johnson’s eyes on me were not helping at all, I finally asked if they had anything to smoke in the house. That seemed to break the ice, and before long, we were all smoking and chatting about random stuff. And some of the things they were saying to me confirmed the suspicion I had that these guys had taken one look at me and dismissed me as some boujee brat who possibly had everything he wants. I was a little irritated that they would characterize me without even knowing me, but I laughed over every wrong analogy of me they hit me with. I also found myself studying Johnson more and more, especially since he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes away from me. It wasn’t as though he was throwing me flirtatious looks; in fact, his eyes on me were flat and somewhat speculative, like he was trying to make something out of me.

I was in their company for about two hours, before Iyke reemerged and then, we were on our way back home. And all day, Johnson was everywhere in my head, brutally fucking inside it from every angle. This was the first time since my breakup that I was getting so possessed by the thought of another boy. When eventually I fell asleep, I had a dream where he and I fucked.

A few weeks passed and I was able to get Johnson out of my head. I went to get food from a restaurant not so far from my house. I was hungry and approached the restaurant knowing what I wanted to eat. But as soon as I walked in, I became hungry for practically everything that was on display. I was making my way to the counter, when someone bumped into me. I was first aware that it was a female who bumped into me, and then I was aware of my car key and phone slipping from my hand to the floor. For a split second, the image of a shattered phone screen flashed through my mind and I almost passed out right there and then. The woman had stumbled to one side, while I was bending over to retrieve my things. I picked up the phone and the screen was fine, although the glass behind had a big web-like crack running over it with a small dent at the top left side of it. It wasn’t very much damage, but I was already thinking about what kind of phone case I would buy to conceal the dent and crack. The woman was saying something, but I wasn’t paying attention to her. I’d even lost my appetite. I muttered a quick sorry to her, turned and exited the restaurant. I was pissed. I could vaguely hear someone calling my name, but I just wanted to get out of there.

I was about to step inside my car when I heard my name again. I turned and it was Johnson.

Blood of God!

I quickly gathered myself and dredged up a smile. He was emerging from the restaurant and walked up to me. We exchanged some pleasantries, and he asked if I wasn’t going to get food again (clearly he’d witnessed my brief encounter with the woman inside). I told him I’d lost my appetite. We talked some more, during which time I got to know that he had a sense of humour; he cracked me up a few times.

He had to go back inside because he was with someone, but first, we exchanged numbers. He said he would call me sometime so we could hang, smoke and stuff. I was excited about that. He stood in the parking lot, watching me reverse the car and drive off. A few minutes later, while I was driving, his text came in.

‘It was really good to see you. I was wondering if I could text you on WhatsApp, if you don’t mind of course.’

He had to ask before texting me on WhatsApp? What a gentleman, I thought.

I wasn’t able to reply his text until hours later, because I got distracted by other things I was doing. When I remembered, I texted him back: ‘Yeah, sure, why not!’

And minutes later, his text dropped in on WhatsApp. We chatted for a little bit, and then he asked if he could call me.

In my head, I was, like: Dude, you can marry me. I accept!

He called me (not on WhatsApp) and we talked for almost an hour. Our conversation was great. He was smart and charming. I really, really liked him.

We began to hang out every now and then after that. We quickly got really close, and I remember he asked me one time why he’d never seen me with a girl or with people for that matter. I simply told him I’d just come out of a relationship, and that I wasn’t really a people person; that due to some experiences I’d had in the past, I find it difficult to make more than a few friends.

“Lucky me,” he joked when I said that.

Lucky you indeed, I thought, wanting him to be referring to me being single and not me being a loner.

I was falling for this guy. I was in lust with him. But I was managing myself well around him. From his crowd and the fact that he talked about girls enough times, it was apparent he was straight and I didn’t want any messy complications.

So, imagine my shock when we met up some other day, and out of nowhere, he was saying to me, “Hey, so I just want to put this out there so nothing is misinterpreted along the line or taken out of context.”

I said, “Okay. What’s up?”

And he responded, “Bro, I’m not gay. You know I have a girlfriend, and I am very much in love with her. I was talking to some of my niggas and they told me you are gay and that you might be reasoning my ass.”

I was both shocked and annoyed by what he said. Here I was, being the very good boy, not even thinking about so much as hitting on this dude, and he was out here, low-key warning me not to have any ideas. I couldn’t even understand why his friends felt the need to discuss this with him. The thing is: my sexuality was something of an open secret amongst my straight friends. Some were bold enough to ask me to satisfy their curiosity or suspicions, and the people I’ve kept around me were largely indifferent to the knowledge of my homosexuality. Of course, boys gossip, even worse than girls. And so, word must have found its way to the people who turned out to be Johnson’s friends.

I wasn’t bothered by any of that. If anything, I was mostly disappointed Johnson over the way he chose to handle his knowledge of me.

I hid my disappointment until I left his company. And then, it was radio silence between us for weeks. That is, until we bumped into each other in the mall. I was in the company of an ex of mine from years ago; he had just come to Nigeria for a visit. Running into Johnson was brief and as awkward as you would expect. It was like “Hi’ and then “Bye”.

Some days passed, and my ex had gone on to Abuja, when Johnson texted me, asking if we could meet. According to his text, he had some things to get off his chest. I replied that I was going to get back to him. Days passed and I never did, because I simply didn’t want to deal with him anymore.

About two weeks after that, I was in my house, waiting on a dick appointment. It had been several months since the breakup from my ex, and I had finally decided to step back into the hookup scene. It was time to end the self loathing brought on by my heartache and sample some of the good dicks that were coming at me.

I had just finished a deep clean (douche for a big dick), and I was on my sofa, clad in a black lace thong, downing my second energy drink on an empty stomach. And in came Johnson’s text, asking if I could meet him at a hotel where he was lodged. This was something he did often; to get away from the bustle of the apartment he shared with his friends, he would up and book a room in a hotel, where he would stay for a couple of days. My dick appointment was for 1pm-ish, and the time was 10 AM. So, I figured, “Why not?” After all, he’d said he had some things to get off his chest, and I had quite a few to get off mine as well.

So, I shot back a text: ‘Cool. See you in a few. Send me your room number.’

Soon, I was on my way with a half-smoked blunt in my mouth and one in my pocket reserved for my dick appointment. I got to the hotel, his room was called to announce my arrival, and moments later, I was in the elevator going up to the floor he was on. I walked up to the door and it was slightly open.

I walked in to meet him sitting up on the bed. I said hey, then walked over to the table to drop my phone and key, and of course, I sat my behind down right there by the table. (You didn’t think I was going to join him on the bed, did you?).

He started talking. He said he didn’t have any issues with my sexuality, as he had friends who are bisexual, but for some reason, he felt I was responsible for why things took the turn they did between us because I did “little to nothing” to conceal my sexuality from people. Not that I was rubbing my sexuality in people’s faces, he hurriedly added when he noticed the stormy expression that had started gathering on my face at that. It was just that I didn’t act like I cared that anyone knew.

The major thing he wanted to address, he said, was that he was hurt the most by the fact that I seemed to move on so quickly from our friendship, acting like I didn’t give a fuck about “what we had” (his exact words), and pointed out how especially hurt he was to see me with “that dude at the mall.”

As he unburdened himself, I sat there, distant from him, calm as you please, waiting for him to get to his destination.

He finally said that he was into me and was having trouble processing it. It was at this point that I stood up, and in a bid to encourage the confidence he was taking me into, I walked over to the bed and sat at the foot, watching him as he continued talking. I became a little lost as I began to notice just how sexy his lips were: full, brown upper lip and pink lower lip that looked like it was carefully lined with a brown lip pencil.

He was now talking about how seeing me at the mall with that dude almost made him lose it.

And then, he excused himself, saying he had to go take a leak. He got up from the bed and casually holding a pillow over his crotch, walked into the toilet. As he peed, he asked if I wanted anything to eat because he’d noticed me yawning awhile ago. I said no, that I had to be somewhere and I would grab something to eat when I was done from there.

He came back to the bed without totally covering his crotch with the pillow as he did earlier, and I caught a glimpse of the monster he was working with. Instantly, I felt my mouth water and my heart pick up a beat from the twitch in my asshole, as though my prostate was sending a direct message to it. I was super horny and I couldn’t take it anymore. So, I got on the bed in all fours and slowly crawled over to him, positioned myself before him and leaned in to kiss him.

He’d been sitting there, still, watching me approach him, and then, when I leaned forward to kiss him, he turned his head away. It was a gesture that seemed to want me to try again.

So, I did. I angled my head to claim his lips again, and he turned away yet again.

I stopped then, took his hands in my hands and positioned them slightly above his head, leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Tell me you want me.”

And as his lips parted for him to speak, I claimed them at once as though they rightfully belonged to me.

TO BE CONTINUED

Written by Jason