Why lie, Africa does end at the Mother City...

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Egoli: Where the ‘Thirst’ Gets Real

 “Cole, a South African man will not touch you unless you allow him to.” – Wisdom from Robel (Mr. Gay Ethiopia 2012) at Cape Town on 7^th March, 2014.

THE INGRESS TO THE DARK ROOM is a hazily lit area. The short stout red-haired man from earlier at the Jacuzzi is now only in his black briefs standing at the entryway. He inches closer but I disregard him. Just ahead of me are two guys making out, they momentarily stop, move aside to allow us to pass, my shoulder slightly rubbing against their sweaty bodies, they resume their tongue action. The narrow corridor is now getting darker and inordinately uncanny. We finally reach its end but there is a turn on our left. Jamleck suggests we go back but I whisper and tell him that there is no way we are leaving this place until we reach its end. We walk into a pitch-dark room where to find our bearing we have to use our hands. It feels like a maze even. Jamleck is peculiarly quiet. I make a mental note of the awful choice of music playing in this room. In the process I bump into something soft, hairy on the chest and a bit wet. It He grabs me. I let out a squeal comparable to a school girl who has just seen a mouse. “Cole is everything okay in there?” A familiar (American brogue) yell from a distance. I easily free myself from the robust sweaty arms and dash towards Jamleck’s voice. Bitch set me up, fuck!

*******

Behind The Scenes

1. Boy, haven’t I missed you? After that graduation last year and turning 25, bitch deserved a vacation you know. Jamleck may have gotten me to attend Church to pray for forgiveness but still…the gossip I am burning with, damn! Do you guys know that feeling when a bottom is so damn horny and even the fap depot or his self service toy(s) just doesn’t cut it for him? The gossip is that huge. 

2. Speaking of matters horny, while away, my friend and fellow blogger CB sends me this WhatsApp voice call on a three foursome orgy (By the way does a foursome constitute an orgy?) he was involved in. I think his intention was to show off but he ended up applauding a Top for ably ‘servicing’ three bottoms without tiring. Boo, I’m just wondering who among you got to make him cum in the end. That thirst was real, whoa! Seriously though, CB I do take this opportunity to belatedly wish you a Happy 30^th Birthday Anniversary; I still need tips on the twink look though for the future. Oh and thanks for this hat :)

3. So after the “Kumbe Role si muscle” and my dissing on muscular guys previous comments I made some time back, I have been implored to attend the Great Rift 10-Aside rugby tournaments of 2014 at Nakuru Nax Vegas later this month. I am so in so that we can settle this ‘endowment down there’ dust once and for all! 

4. By the way, on 7^th March C.D.R turned 2. The other day while I was logging in, I was so surprised that we are having a readership inclined towards 30K. Guys, I totally feel the love and in that regard I made sure I attended a drag show on that day just to recognize your importance to me as a blogger and C.D.R generally. Asante (Thank you)!

*******

THE ETHIOPIAN AIRLINES “AFRICA FIRST” DREAMLINER is marshaled to its parking stand at O.R Tambo shortly after 1300 hours. I may still have Cloud Nine envy but that was one of the most fucking comfortable Economy flights I have ever had! Fine, I was asleep most of the time with Laura Mvula’s sultry voice delivering “Green garden” to my ears! While waiting for us to disembark, my thoughts wander making me smile to myself as I summon up events from earlier. There was the party last night at Addis’ Piazza district with our friends. That awkward moment when my suitcase was passing through JKIA’s X - Ray machine. I still can’t believe B made me import two litres of mzinga alcohol. The relief when I was past the checkpoint. Forget about cumming or even finally getting to the urinal to take that deserved piss, that feat made me feel like a successful drug lord.

The canon gunshot signifying the Victory of Adwa holiday wakes me up at 5 in the morning. Betam Ameseginalehu (Thanks a lot) Ezu for the buna. I needed it for this: (At the boarding gate at Bole just before the Dreamliner flight) “Where is your belt?” He asks. I smile telling him it is in the machine. Of course he knows that. I belatedly realize, the fuck were his eyes doing down there? “You have a cute face.” He tells me smiling and proceeds to the next passenger in line. “Cole, you kept the line delayed a bit and I am sure that was not about security because you two were smiling, spill!” Jamleck whose observant nature will one day land us in trouble interrupts my shock at what the security guy just told me. My eyes are still fixed at him. He is a not so tall and not as short, medium-sized guy in uniform and dons a very authentic leather jacket. He’s also got great fingers.  He is all of a sudden cute but not a person I would ordinarily notice. Then there is the professional-looking Namibian gentleman seated next to me in the plane. “Excuse me, if you don’t mind me asking, you’ve traveled from Nairobi and had this connecting flight to Jo’Burg in Addis?” Still wondering how he figured out I’m Kenyan. “Yes, we were attending a friend’s party then head to our final destination.” I respond matter-of-factly but politely, tucking away the Business Africa magazine and covering my legs right up to the arms with my Maasai blanket due to the heavily Aircon’d plane cabin. He nods, his previous puzzled look vanished. I ask him whether he’s a native South African and that is how I get to know he’s from Windhoek. I also pick a small banter on the voluminous Economics novel book he’s reading and I think he told me at some point that he is a college professor traveling from Europe.

“Thank you and have a good day sir.” The stunning cabin crew lady whose mascara is immaculately applied interrupts my thoughts. I tip my head slightly in acknowledgement and go down the staircase. It is raining in Jozi.

I push Jamleck to the immigration counter when his turn is due. His mind was still pre-occupied with the tall, fair skinned, scruffy and sturdy dude on the other queue. We had first seen him at Bole Airport just when we were about to board and since then, J had made it his personal responsibility not to lose sight of him. He even imagined that they would share a seat. Immediately the seat belt signs went off, he rose to go to the gents, a mission he took ages yet there was a washroom just four or five seats from his seat. He finally returned and gladly gave me a note that ‘his man’ was seated in an aisle seat at the back. And you thought being a homosexual was enough struggle!

The moment we step out into the Arrivals Waiting area, I spot our host. His firm grey eyes are firmly fixed on us. “Welcome to Jozi guys.” For purposes of this article let’s call him Abner.

*******

AFTER A SUMPTUOUS DINNER at Sandton City’s, Nelson Mandela Square, Jamleck giggles while looking at his phone, finally looks up with mimicked puppy eyes and begs Abner to take us him to the Factory. Despite the graphic and chilling Riot Act Abner reads him, he still insists. Knowing well that Abner can’t easily say No to me, he further bribes me with a tall glass of bubblegum milkshake and a promise to pay my Gold Reef City and Soccer City (FNB Stadium) fees the next day. I ask him to add dinner at Rosebank’s Rabbit in the Moon but he tells me not to push my luck. I shrug at Abner and tell him Jamleck has a deal since he’ll also benefit.

Abner briefly parks his car at a gas station off Albertina Sisulu road to check his map. He shakes his head and squeezes my right knee as he engages gears. Jamleck is seriously grinning at the back. He steps on the gas and in a short while we are cruising along a deserted lane off Voorhout Street. A few minutes later we pull in front of a building with a rainbow flag flying somewhere close to its roof.

As soon as the car is parked, Abner asks us to leave a few things we won’t need in the club including excess currency, passports, phone etc. A tall gentleman in a yellow T-shirt smiles looking our way and goes up the flight of stairs leading to the club. We get to the huge grey gate where “Right of Admission Reserved” signage is conspicuously displayed. Abner presses the buzzer and we are allowed in almost right away. We walk up the next set of stairs. I make a mental note of some grey painted lockers on my left before getting to the dim lit reception. A butt naked gentleman on the other side of the counter welcomes us. Abner lights a cigarette and stands behind us puffing away oozing that bad boy charm. I say hi to the nude receptionist smiling and then look up to the visibly smitten Jamleck to start the conversation. “It’s our first time here, would you be kind enough to tell us what is required of us?” Jamleck asks sounding all officious, his American accent reinforcing that we are black foreigners. 

As he is being explained for the club set of laws, my mind wanders to the blue themed DVD’s on display at the top shelf, the condoms rack, the clothes rack on his right. Just then, a tall naked man only in his socks and a badge dangling on his neck walks to where we are standing. He beams with excitement. It is the gentleman from earlier. Abner doesn’t even notice his presence until he realizes my eyes are on the tall tower of water next to him. My eyes wander down there. He then walks back inside. I think his was to give us a hint of the goodies inside. Jamleck is still engrossed with the receptionist but his eyes are firmly fixed on his d!ck as he responds to texts on his cell phone. “…Our drinks are expensive because nowhere else do you get to enjoy a drink naked….You just take off your clothes there then I grant you access.” He says his forefinger on his left dangled wrists pointing to where we are standing with some sort of attitude regarding me warily. In my mind I’m like chic, really? I reach for my T-shirt and strip halfway before Jamleck stops me. Abner had maintained he would wait for us in the car if we were still on. The receptionist tells us to call him as soon as we have made up our minds. He sashays away to the other end of the bar. Okay, I got to give him props, he definitely has an ass.

“But that place is for old folk…” He tells us when Abner asks us to go check out a related joint in Randburg where towels and lockers are provided since Jamleck is visibly not ready to strip and he has also said there is no way they are leaving me here alone. Fuck, now this queen doesn’t get to see my twink body! I ask the gentleman what time they open and tell him we will return during the day when Jamleck is more comfortable. He reluctantly agrees to shake Jamleck’s extended hand. I simply give him a thumbs up sign.

THE NUMBER OF ADULT SHOPS you see as you drive across Jozi is plainly intriguing. I know having a number of condoms in my suitcase will just get my morality judged and all but look, if sachets of lube aren’t even assumed to be drugs, how the fuck does one transport home that 12 Inch dildo I saw at the adult shop in Randburg? I’m asking for a friend. I’ve even imagined myself at a baggage checkpoint where it falls off my carryon luggage accidentally and one of the Airport staff wields it asking me what it is for. LOL! Just neighboring the adult shop I visited looking for a mask for JK who asked me to get him one as a gift (He still doesn’t know I told the lady at the shop that I think it’s to spice up things in his bedroom) is a men’s only bath house - The Rec, off Malibongwe (formerly Hans Strijdom) Drive.

Abner being the gentleman he is, once again presses the buzzer and after speaking through the speaker, access is granted. I take notice of the black guard regarding us warily just outside the gate. The gentleman at the counter is a tall, slim Caucasian in a cap, a black shirt and a nice pair of fitting denim. His pale skin makes him actually look Finnish. Behind him is a bar with half naked patrons mostly in their towels and/or underwear. It is a relatively well lit reception area. Once again I notice the Right of Admission poster on a door that leads to the locker room. We each pay the requisite 105 ZAR and are given clean but small towels. We then head for the locker rooms and in an instant except my tight boxers, I’m literally naked. I then throw my towel on my shoulder and start exploring the room.

I LOVED THE SAUNA to bits. It just makes you look all so wet, flushed and desirable like a professional black gay porn actor. Succinctly put, you are ready for any meat! Then there was that moment I poured some of the blue-colored chlorine and dipped myself in the Jacuzzi. Oh, the pleasure! I’m sure my face made me look like a lesbian experimenting with one of her newly acquired vibrators. By the way, just between you and me, I even saw ‘pussy’ toys in those shops. It was all fun and games until the end when I wanted to leave the Jacuzzi I slid back inside with a splash. A stout Caucasian with red hair who was standing directly opposite me the whole time smiles and comes closer offering to help me out of the thing. I reach out for his extended soft hand and go down the Jacuzzi steps thanking him. ‘Where are you from?’ Here is the thing, speaking to that man was like my big break at the Rec. It is at that point that I noticed Jamleck and I were the only black men in the place and most of the Jungus (white folk) are seemingly wired to keep off a black until you speak. In the sense that, you remain a native to the white folk in SA until you profess your foreignness. It is at that point I remember that look the guard gave us. Abner walks over as if to rescue me but tells me that Jamleck and I can take our precious time; he will be waiting for us at the parking.

Then there was this special almost dark room I liken to Fifty Shades Red room of Pain. Honey, I’m talking chains, leather, slings, and floggers. I think whips can also be provided upon request. While walking around the room I stepped on cum but when I saw used tissues at a possible fapping corner, the condom tray on the doorway and this tall and muscled Caucasian man who had blocked the entrance as soon as I walked in. I remembered that Planet Romeo date months ago who had asked me to be his slave. I think I should get out of here I muttered inside. The man still hovering at the entrance to the sling room, he turned to allow me pass but squeezed my ass and smiled. I slightly rub his groin and take my leave. Little do I know that this is the silent cue at the Rec for one to follow you!  I swiftly take a corner and get inside the sauna. I see a shadow of his body frame pass through the sauna’s glass door. He probably misses me because the shadow comes back, hovers around the sauna door almost coming in, reconsiders and then leaves. It is at that point that I remember Aunty Uju from Chimamanda Adichie’s Americanah. ‘He can look and touch but not put it inside.” I sheepishly smile to myself. My happy thoughts are interrupted when this tall and slim blonde guy I cruised at the bar walks into the sauna. The steam outlet releases a gush of steam.

It takes a Bitch to know another

Jamleck finally comes out of the pungently smoked wooden room and whispers that the guy tried to touch him but he resisted but in his usual element, he ended up making it a date. (From the sauna, I’d found him making small talk with a guy inside the Jacuzzi who was inviting him in.) See, Jamleck is a very good friend of mine who comes off as a first class whore but intriguingly he’s the same guy who will fish out Rural Development statistics out of a naked guy. I Know! In as much as I told him anybody who walks in this place just wants a quick lay and not a date, he got some very vital information that we will talk about next week when we explore Cape Town. He insists we do a last round on the area around the cubicles then leave. We walk into a room where a threesome is just developing going by the serious making out. We are like sorry yet we don’t feel awkward. One of the guys smiles at us. We walk along the corridor way full of guys. Tall, short, skinny, slim, belly, stocky, combination of either of the same. Jamleck feels the d!ck of the fine gentleman with gel on his black hair resting on the wall. He smiles at him. He feels like it’s some sort of achievement yet he’s landed us in trouble! We accidentally open a door and have no choice but smile at the nude Indian boy – who gave us that approving look from earlier at the lounge – who’s now resting on the mattress waiting for anyone who cares for action. In some sort of brotherly support I’m like, go for it girl, a pretty boy has needs, where he gets them met is relative. Jamleck apologizes and closes the door. Just then he suggests we should visit the dark room ahead of us then we can head home. I see a red-haired man only in his briefs standing in the entry to that dark room. I swallow a huge lump of saliva…

Next Week on C.D.R

The discourse shifts to the gay paradise, Cape Town:

Listen, we don’t do white men…

The lady at the immigration counter and the queue of passengers look at us as he blows kisses to us. Jamleck and I feel like the ground should just open up and swallow us. What’s with us and Airport DRAMA!

“Sir, but you can’t afford the place.” The black man tells me. “I really didn’t ask you the price.”

The bare chest waiter at Zero 21 walks to me with a tray of tequila shots at the counter. All eyes are still ogling at him. “Is it your birthday?” I ask him. He smiles at me.

“I have big d!ck.” The Nigerian taxi driver announces to us as we step out of the Crew bar.

“♪♪ You love me like XO…turn the lights out…”, I’m like, even Beyonce wouldn’t beat this drag queen in lip synching!

Cole