I am a Bottom, Never apologized for it!

This article is amatory in nature and may contain suggestive language. Reader discretion is accordingly advised. 

Previously on T.S.R

…if (and that is a qualified if) one settles for the role called bottom then one settles for power. Real power.                                                                                                        

But a bottom must get schooled. Don’t expect this proficiency from the class of 2013 bottoms…

 …I will not be a cum bucket to a man who’s not going to commit to me!                                 

 …I may not be a fan but neither am I immune to reading some of the posts (here) from disgruntled, lacking in love, and living-on-cloud nine mamas with cocks.

…Bitch, you come to my backyard, I pay all your bills, take you out, fuck you, and if I get some by-the-way ass, you causing drama? On me?                                                                                                                                             

…The law of the land dictates the man who does the fucking calls the shot. I will never bottom for a dude because then he makes you his bitch.                                                                                                                          

…Your ass becomes boring at some point. It’s the same style, same hole, same hair, same smell. Dude, we have become so routine it’s boring!                                                                                                                          

…Bottoms dear, grass ain’t greener on the other side and if it is, it’s probably growing on sewage.

Situation 1

‘Relax baby’ he says to me panting deeply on my right side ear. ‘Ukikaza rasa ndio itazidi kuwa uchungu’ (If you clench your butt it will be more painful). He says in Swahili sheng as he lubricates his tumescent manhood that reeks of strawberry and rubber. Boy, I got me some well endowed ghetto meat! I mutter to myself as I close my eyes waiting for the subsequent step. He softly massages my rear with his rough palm before landing it a spank that forces me to thrust upwards giving him an instant way in. I suffer some deep sting! A constant rhythm is soon established. I twist my head to look at him at some point. His eyes are closed, his mouth has a distinct O and he’s sweating clearly lost in his own world. I feel some pain. I feel some far-fetched bliss of sorts. I feel…liberated?

*****

Behind The Scenes

I was recently out of the +254 jurisdiction for a fortnight and I must admit it felt great. There were the two educative visits to reputable ranches/hacienda, then those two strange men flirting with me in a club at some not so God – approved hours (I still can’t decipher why in a club environment every guy is instantly hot), oh and the lush woods of the Rift can (despite the unpleasantly cold evenings) be quite liberating after all – minus a man! David distanced himself from the trip but I’m impressed he kept the spirited fight of a jealous future boyfriend by his daily texts. That boy sure got a lot going on in his life - Oops TMI. Still on matters men, it’s been a dry spell here for a while now and despite a handful of turned down servicing offers here and there, I just seem not to be with it. In Jamleck's words, they may as well jerk off to some porn on TV. I mean, I do that occasionally when the pressure is intolerable. Look, I neither drink nor sleep around and No, I’m not exactly broke or even bad looking. Maybe I’m at a good place in my life right now. Maybe I’m ready for love something deeper. Maybe that cum bucket shit I talked about is working. OMG, there is also the ' The Haunted House' by one of the ever gorgeous Wayans brothers! If you are gay or an enthusiast in matters zega and haven't watched this flick, there's a problem. I hear it's termed as 'Homoerotic'. Can you picture Marlon Wayans getting fucked by a ghost. No Lube, No Condom? Get down to your favorite torrent site after this read or visit your movie guy for your dose of laughter this weekend . You are welcome.

*****

Situation 2

It’s very cold. He offers me his jacket as soon as we step out of the bus that immediately proceeds to its destination. I study my surroundings. I’ve never been out this late in a highway before but then it’s three on a Sunday morning and I’m around 130km from Nairobi, the land of sunshine and loose morals. Suave, charming and with beautiful manners, he has been with me from the previous day (Saturday) at 4p.m. His features were quite elaborate from his fitting top at the club as he danced. The top button was loosely open all along leaving good fodder for wild imagination. He’s tipsy but has his balance while his right arm rests on my shoulder. I feel calmed once we get into the warm dungeon that defines his abode. I take a seat in the couch next to the door. ‘Just to clarify something, are you Top or Bottom?’ I ask.  ‘Top. Someone’s got to take care of you pretty thing.’ He responds as he smiles. ‘Good. I like that’ I reply. ‘Jeez, where are my manners, care for a drink or something?’ He asks. ‘If it pleases you.’ I retort. He unleashes one of those evil smiles of his. ‘Anything for you pleases me my dear.’

It’s daylight. My ass is sore. He’s still deep asleep with his naked body coiled around me protectively. I let myself free after a brief struggle from his strong arms and walk into the bathroom. The hot water stingingly but welcomingly flows through the crack of my junk making me sigh relief, I recollect the earlier events that led to this. The deep face to face kissing that started in the kitchen, his tumescence rising until it was rock hard, him lifting me to his room, things falling on the floor, a gleaming sachet dangerously torn... I never got to have the warm lime water I’d requested for. I have to leave this place immediately I decide silently. I suddenly feel some arms curl around my soapy self. ‘Good morning beautiful, where are you going to this early?’  Fuck. 
This friends, is the synopsis of the man I dated for 4 months.

*****

Ghetto boy is snoring. Our legs and arms entwined, my head positioned across his broad hairy chest. The kind men of my taste had thanks to the myriad of glossy magazines I’ve been perusing; my hands are resting on his balls whose size is comparable to grape fruits. The sex was ugly, cantankerous, mechanically routine, succinctly put: Sub-standard. I even feel used and abused but…

Friends, that is how I lost my virginity.

*****

A letter to my Top(s): A bottom’s perspective.

I have to make a confession for the purposes of this article. I am a virgin. Oops, let’s try that again. I am a 2 – tier virgin in the sense that pussy is off limits. Never seen it, never touched it, don’t have any idea what S meant that evening at Poa Place when she said, we should try 'eat it' sometime. Yeah, I can see that gasp /O\ on your face. Secondly, I am a certified bottom. Never attempted to get in anywhere and the last time someone made me try that shit, my erection was killed. This dawg just doesn’t bark that way! So now my conscience is clear to speak to top(s) and also my fellow bottoms. 

Bottoming in zega circles is always a subject of controversy. From lines such as ‘A 40-year old bottom does not appeal’, ‘a 30 year old man shouldn’t be a bottom’ (I roll my eyes) ‘I can never bottom for a man,’ 'Being a bottom is not a disability' et al, the role has drawn to it its fair share of challenge in that it is looked at as a gateway to assignment of other duties largely borrowed from the competition: Heterosexuals. So the bottom is in most cases looked at as a lesser person - one who needs to submit to a top (who as one of my moderator puts it, cum so fast when you attempt to touch their rosebud) just like our ever crappy straight counterparts. As the bottom attempts to reclaim his face, the top is patted for doing a good job and maintaining the motto: My ass is only exit, no entry! Still, I don’t envy a top’s job e.g. rubbering up, oiling, pumping etc. as J.Sisulu graphically highlighted last week. Nevertheless, wanking my man piece remains my business lest I cum before you and tell you to get out.

‘Before you eat an okra seed, you must measure the size of your anus’. –Yoruba Saying

At times I dread getting some. I’m talking about penetrative sex here as the core pillar of Bottoming. A sample bottom’s bucket list before sex:

1.     I got to scrub well down there though rimming in its entirety is a gauche thing for me. I always have to think it over. I hear it’s a Top’s BJ gift to his bottom, no? The things some men can do with their tongues should be declared illegal *Hides*

2.     Enema, douching, and ecstasy – I have never done any of these but I hear my bitches talking about them. The last time someone asked me to use poppers. They give one sexual appetite and a painless coitus operandi, Huh?

3.     Foreplay (Not everyone is kissable)

4.     Conversation a.k.a pillow talk …Uhm. Unless we are hitched (Doesn’t apply to flings/quickies)

5.     ‘Do you have protection? (My condoms rank same with my biking helmet)

The consequences of having some man meat shoved up your rear! And No, I'm not obsessing about size like most of my counterparts. My pal William would lift his right hand and say: I'm protective of my ass! Every Bottom identifies the occasional bloody stains on white tissue, the difficult bowel movements and yes, the sore man-pussy that may have to be sat on a tub of warm antiseptic water and in some cases uncomfortable sitting arrangements. A Top of course will always be convincing that there is need for another round even after such an eventful routine. Grab the condom pack, fix it on his rod and get right to work. I respect Tops who know how to help their bottom get through the ordeal but mostly they are those in monogamous arrangements or repeated sexual encounters (Fuck buddies) especially when you shower together and he gives you a quick exam down there. *Fanning myself*

“The trick is not how much pain you feel but how much joy you feel. Any idiot can feel pain. Life is full of excuses to feel pain, excuses not to live, excuses, excuses, excuses.” – Erica Jong 

The Power Bottom

I’m all about being a respectable pretty boy in the streets, a chef in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom but I’ll admit I am no power bottom. At times I just need to ride on the horse to control the depth traveled, plainly lie there as I encourage the rhythm and take any of the orders issued with due consideration. Anal sex can have its fair share of dangers. I equally don’t do so well in taking instructions from men I’m romantically involved with unless I’m committed to them. 

While responding to Mr. Sisulu’s letter to bottoms, Cup-A-Tea opined that ‘A power bottom is not a term to describe one's personality and character; it is a term to refer to a bottom who can have sex multiple times in various positions and not be tired.’

Taking up this point further on: ‘The Miseducation of a Power Bottom’ by L.Bunny B.Woods. Here is an extract:

• A person who can fulfill the fantasy of a top’s sexual desires, needs and wants without being asked or instructed is truly a top’s dream. Tops appreciate a bottom that enjoys his experience without complaining about exhaustion or pain.
• A power bottom, in my opinion, is not a size queen or a person with excessive sexual stamina, but is one who has experience as a bottom, is very confident and knows his self-worth.
• The ways a power bottom talks and his assertive confidence have the ability to instantly mesmerize a top; the power bottom, with a simple greeting of “Hello,” instantly draws him in, and the sexual experience has already begun. When the top instantly becomes mentally stimulated by the power bottom’s conversation, the top’s desire is to explore this bottom and their experience together. The way the power bottom sways when he walks is erotically appealing, and is also a calculated skill that drives the top wild!
• Beyoncé said it best in her song, “Ego”: “I walk like this ‘cause I can back it up!”
  

Editor’s Opinion: Mr. Woods is probably a Top and/or their agent. The above sentiments are well reasoned but highly subjective. I couldn't locate available literature immediately on a Power Top.

Personally I don’t get all the bile spewed from the tops who stopped by here. Fine, you took him out for a date, you fed him, he didn’t do the utensils after breakfast, He sulked when the club got boring or when you ran late for the date. Were you expecting him to glitter bomb you like Lindsay Lohan in the court doorway when she ran late for her court appearance? Mister if you gonna subject my ass to all that fire tonight, (flicks an imaginary weave) you might as well feed me. Why all the bile? You can always claim a refund. Majority of Tops need stop treating encounters with bottoms as some form of speed dating and then getting annoyed when it’s revealed that the bottom getting coffee was, in fact, actually getting coffee rather than cruising for some shitstorm that was supposed to take place at their place. Sometimes chemistry won’t just be there and one got to nurse them blue balls! This is probably the reason why pretty boys are glued to some tabloid pages on social media waiting for some HIV dirt or otherwise on someone who allegedly screwed them over!

The grass is greener syndrome applies across the gay divide. Notice the multiple sex romps we are having as a community? It’s because we are looking for more and think the next zipper will provide it yet it just never materializes!  Dear Tops, the hole never gets boring, it’s the same just that the other grass growing on sewage is what you desire your current grass to be. The more the reason any sane bottom needs to observe a vigorous condom ritual anytime coitus operandi is in the offing.

A Bottom has got to learn how to open his mouth for more than just giving head.

Bottoms consider their 20’s as an avenue to get hitched, a fad I’ve strongly objected to in the past. Bottoms, regardless of age, should have an intellectual curiosity that goes beyond wondering if their shoes match their pants, man purse or top shirt. I agree, papers are very imperative and so as a bottom who believes in effort, I’ll wholly associate my fine self with Sisulu’s sentiments and not dilute his observations on the same.

Contrary to the popular opinion that most bottoms rely on Tops for survival, while responding to this article by a Mr. Nzioka, Derrick dissents and opines that he’s an established bottom complete with a career and his life to live. ‘Some of us put on our designer suits in the morning, get into a vehicle and get busy in our polished mahogany desks. At the end of the day we just need a good lay; besides, bottoms who pay their own rent don’t have to be nice.’  While on the same subject matter, Morgan takes offense almost immediately and condescendingly responds saying he’d like to believe that the author had probably had one too many for the evening. ‘He was probably addressing the side fucks he has been banging and who consider him to be a Gaylord of sorts.’

Jeez, it's 3a.m already and I sure don't know where this conversation is heading to besides, the Top / Bottom conversation is not a day's work. The remaining four or so paragraphs are brief and highly academic at least to give me some credibility lest I be dismissed as just another blonde obsessed with Bottoms' rights. Listen, I don’t care if tops find it hard to know what bottoms want these days; I don’t care if they are angry or frustrated because someone (us) changed the rules while they weren’t looking and forgot to send them a goddamned memo. Get used to it, guys. Or get a cat! 

Next week on T.S.R: ‘As a Top, would you bottom for your partner?'

May you live in interesting times!

C. Mutahi

A Letter to my Bottom(s): A Top's Perspective.

Previously on T.S.R

…I am no new flesh, no brand new electronic in brittle Styrofoam packaging, smelling all naive and fresh. I have an ex who later turned a gay porn actor. He is online being fucked. You want the link?

...When they demand: yoghurt-flavored baked chicken, coconut rice, my mystery spices sauce and stewed spinach-no stems please-, I think what alien creature is this?

…I have preached and mis-preached at the temple-Tacos Balcony; screwed pre-prime meat, kept and paid school fees for a man.

…He chats like someone we can find a ranch in Laikipia, make a home and just read and write.

By J. Sisulu

In the dynamics of the gay game, amidst the confusion of roles and the politics of labels if (and that is a qualified if) one settles to the role called bottom then one settles for power. Real power.

Dear Bottom. Kindly have a seat. I have a mandate here and I will get right to it in simple points:

1. Power.

You may not realize it per se but self declared, self loving and flaunting it bottoms are at the apex of gay power. They send “please call me” and sure a reverse call shall be placed to them. They sulk when at a club and not only shall the bill be paid but a relocation to Westie shall ensue. I once dated a bottom who after a weekend of heavy screwing went for a Sunday gay bash in Makadara and was arrested because neighbours saw men kissing on the balcony and called cops. There is no prize for guessing who went to bail him out. Now that is power, physical and psychological power over another man. 

2. Coitus Operandi.

I have scientific proof (don’t ask me to quote the journal that published the findings – we are a family blog and citations will ruin your reading enjoyment!) that bottoms enjoy the operation and performance scientifically referred to as Coitus better and more than women. The constant thumping on to the prostrate which is the nerve centre of sexual arousal gives them an upper hand in the game of life. So long as the man hole is properly oiled, the bottom is laughing all the way to sexual seventh heaven. Whilst the top juggles pumping, ensuring the man hole is well oiled, wanking jerking off the bottoms man piece, kissing et al, the bottom only twists around to ensure the top is hammering his prostrate right and square!

But a bottom must get schooled. Don’t expect this proficiency from the class of 2013 bottoms . It takes time and skill and well some initial pain. Once schooled its constant sexual nirvana.  

3. Green Grass syndrome.

Bottoms (Most) suffer from the grass is greener on the other side syndrome. You get overfed with the power stated above and get addicted to the extent you think you are gods with an ego to march. High on power they disappoint, cheat and mistreat one top after another. They are with one top and think some better top is somewhere out there. They see a fellow bottom whose top lives in Kilimani, drives a huge Japanese recon while shopping at galleria and he wants him. So the Umoja top is promptly dropped and the bottom is fighting a fellow bottom over a man. A man!!!!  In between friendships are broken, loyalties shift, hearts are broken and you pick up a drug thingy- “shitundu, cigarettes, alcohol and ecstasy. (Believe you me, ex is on available. A pal who works for some airline dishes it out to all the bottoms that frequent his apartment). Soon you my dear bottom is swallowing every shade of man piece that dangles around you.  And the labels follow, “takataka ya kanjo” (the local municipality trash), “Envy’s register-keeper” etc. Bottoms dear, grass ain’t greener on the other side and if it is, it’s probably growing on sewage. Beware brother bottom, beware.

4. Age and cycle of life.

Bottom, you won’t be forty and fab. So rock it now and rock it great. Dress in those red skinnies (am told red is in or has it since been tossed out?), rock the geeks, venetian and whatever eye-wear. Pick the loudest colours, say luminous and rule the dance floor. Sag your pants and wear the 4k supras. Snap them fingers and shake the bubble butt like its hot mandazi (bun). Forty is coming and coming fast. So if you are young and bottom rock it until you drop it.  Now, if you are forty and bottom, well you know what it means to be lonely. You have written the book, done the book tour and lectures. And woe unto you if you were lucky to escape HIV or if you have it and you are nicely on retrovirals and you didn’t find a man to keep in your twenties. At forty, tops your age are married with two or three kids and whereas they are still on the market, let’s be honest here: a forty year old bottom does not appeal. At forty you must have a support network of fellow oldies that congregates every evening and talk about the good old days of Tom Mboya’s Pipes, and drink Tusker mixed with Sprite.     

5. Dear bottom, be a man, please. 

Fine you are bottom, you have a feminine side to you, and you love a man piece inside you. Yes to all that but please be a man. I don’t mean don’t do drag, snap fingers and sashay around. Hell no, by all means do that. Use make up the much I care, live your life loud. But please be a man. Go to college and get a job and most importantly keep a job.

Being a bottom is no licence to sleep the entire day on a top’s bed and in his sheets, watch his cable TV, clear his refrigerator, wait for his mboch (house help) to wash your clothes, wait for him to toil the whole day and come back to make supper for you, ask for airtime and fare to town to drop off some Real Husbands of Hollywood C.D’s (burnt on the said top’s laptop) and ask for M-Pesa so that you buy your pals Pizza. Wait, pizza is junk food! Hallo tummy watcher?

No top wants a toddler for a bottom. I beseech thee: Go get the damn papers, get and KEEP a job. No partying till you call in sick or showcase some gay drama at work that they can’t keep you. Save, invest so that when you are forty and lonely, you can sit with fellow oldie bottoms and whine about the days you had power to make a top buy the dream holiday to Maldives and you at least paid for the return tickets cause you had your own change - so that the tusker/sprite sipping support network can have several venues to meet, in the leafy ends of town say Nyali, Karen, the Naivasha Country house or the Laikipia ranch hacienda. Bottom, be a man. 

Well, I am not an intellect but in my view a power bottom is one who has good control of his behavior when around people and when in bed. He just doesn’t get laid for the sake of getting laid, but does things he knows is right and augurs well for his own pleasure and that of his partner.

 J. Sisulu

Next week on T.S.R the conversation continues:

and Cole gets even…

…a new guy huh..legs and arms entwined, his head positioned across the guy’s chest, in all probability a hairy one, the kind of chest that men of his taste had, his hands probably resting on his balls whose size is comparable to grape fruits breathing heavily after a moment of sin

 …‘Relax baby’ he says to me breathing heavily. ‘Ukikaza rasa ndio itazidi kuwa uchungu’ (If you clench your butt it will be more painful)…

 …Mister if you gonna subject my ass to all that fire, (flicks an imaginary weave) you got to feed me. Why all the bile?

 …Huh, you say bottoming for a guy makes you a lesser man? I hate to break it to you (and of course your shrink). I am bottom, you give the orders, and I take them. Never apologized for it. Maybe you should try it out!
...My ass is only exit, no entry!

The author is a writing enthusiast. His short story ‘Motel Ngara’ appears on the ezine Storymoja. Storytime Africa listed one of his stories 'A Married Man' for African Roar 2012. He also authored the 2-part ‘Spheres’ article that ran on T.S.R in June 2012.