“Why live as someone’s hidden secret when I can be making it in
someone else’s major headlines?” – Unknown
Prologue ♪♪ You know what to do
with as big fat butt, wiggle wiggle….wiggle ♪♪ And
Boy didn’t I wiggle! His ass accidentally brushes against mine. He hastily apologizes
and resumes his jig, the skimpily dressed girl’s ass with a dangling weave that
could use some upgrade still gyrating endlessly against his groin. The deejay’s
playlist soon shifts to some mind-numbing Techno music and that is my cue to
leave the dance floor and go take a seat on one of the previously vacated cushion
seats in the middle of a badly lit area of the club’s lounge.
In blue jeans, a
purple T-shirt and brown Timberland boots whose laces are loosely tied and a
red sweater that he had on when we were heading to the dance floor but is now perched
on his right shoulder, Tom soon joins me all sweaty and fanning his face with
his large hands. The scarcely dressed lass whose lilac thong was visible from
her taut jean shorts has now moved to a soaring and well built biracial lad who
I’d spotted smoking shisha earlier
with a group of Caucasian folk who are equally sprawled on the dance floor
either jumping, shaking or just plainly dancing moving. She’s either
negotiating a dance or a fuck. I don’t know but she be damned if she doesn’t
accept the latter if offered.
He is a bastard born to a woman (who then owned a vegetable kiosk in Makongeni) and a man whom he had never met but had recently heard that
he is nowadays a clamping supervisor at City Hall and had sowed similar seeds of bastards on other women. This
had informed his resolve not to reach out to him as he’d initially planned. At least that is his story so far – in my version.
This was our first date and by –my– dating standards he was doing so well
though at some point he had asked whether I had any condoms on me but I’d made
it clear that I don’t have penetrative sex with anyone. He smiled somewhat pleased. The last time I ever pulled this
card on someone, I got feedback that I guard my boy hole you’d think I have
gold in the river between my butt cheeks.
We had had dinner earlier in a restaurant
where the waiter hovered around to ensure we never lacked anything (maybe it’s
because we were the only ones present); we had painted the town Pink by going
to at least three Clubs and now here we were at our fourth one and he was in no
hurry despite the text messages and the calls streaming to his phone but he kept on ignoring. See, I generally
love dates even the one I had at a National Park and I had to nod and broadly smile
at the guy’s jokes (including the dry ones). What? You have to be far-sighted
in these things lest you are thrown out of the car and left stranded for a lion
to make a supper out of you!
Four
or five months ago in the beautiful city of Cape Town, I did get to interact
with Boniface* a native from Uganda. It was the first time I actually got to
speak Swahili in a foreign country and felt fucking good about it. Well, of course
I am not that proficient so it was a bit broken. I digress. Boniface fled from
home as soon as his family back home found out he was a homosexual. He was in
dire straits until an opportunity availed itself and he found himself in the
Cape where he stays with some of his fellow countrymen who were faced with such
similar circumstances. He has no contact with anyone back at home and is not
keen on heading back there either. This was shortly after the time H.E President
Museveni had signed into law the Anti Homosexuality Bill and lest we forget, while
at it gave us a lecture on how oral sex is disgusting making me question how
some people really spice it up in the bedroom. Oral sex to me is like a
greeting, no? Oops I digress again.
While
at O.R Tambo International making my way back home, I also got to meet this delightful
Airport official (a white South African queen)
who was enchanted just by the sight of my passport and he said one thing, “Aww… I love your country, it’s not like
Uganda where they don’t like people like me.” I do remember intimating to
him that Uganda can’t be anywhere in my travel itinerary even though it’s like
a stone throw away from my homeland. He smiled.
A
while ago, one of you told me that Uganda will be the case study on the clamor for LGBT rights in Africa. He
emphasized that despite her problems where the Government is policing among
other things bedroom affairs, it would be an authority for the rest of us who think we are liberal in these things. Of
course I rolled my eyes and sipped my smoothie telling him. “In your dreams”.
So
earlier today, the Constitutional Court of Uganda overturned the harsh law by
declaring it null and void and all that came to mind were the aforesaid
gentlemen. I thought of Boniface’s family back in Uganda who definitely feel
this Judgment is a slap on their faces. I thought of us, who have continued to boycott
Uganda, I thought of sanctions enforced by some members of the international
community, I thought of the Ugandans who fled their country to Kenya. I thought
of the activists who have put their lives on the line to fight an Executive popularly
viewed as despotic. I thought of a fucking lot of things…but a few things are clear,
it’s a beautiful day for Human Rights activists; the journey has just began and
(to play for the other side a bit) whichever way you look at it, just on the
strength of this decision, the Ugandan Judiciary has struck a first for Sub
Saharan Africa! I mean, we live in a continent where such bold “activist” decisions
are frowned upon by the Executive and of course it’s likely to attract
consequences but be that as it may, it will be interesting to see how this fight
escalates to the Appeal Court.
I
am in high spirits as an LGBT identifying person, I feel like it’s my own
battle. I tip my hat to the petitioners and say, Godspeed!
Succinctly
put, this is a welcome little glimmer of light in the darkness…
AFTER
CLIMAXING INSIDE HIM, he retreats to his side of the bed his tumescent manhood
still wet. He had always insisted on fucking him raw. He reaches out for his
phone and resumes a WhatsApp conversation(s) with some of the resident hoes he
continues to buy drinks hoping to get some (by the way) ass or dick but they seem
to take long to impress. He smiles to himself upon receiving some nudes from
one of them. Some progress at last. Benson on the other hand reaches out for
his boxers and heads to the living room slightly limping. He has fulfilled his
daily duty to this man. His man. Deep down though, he has always wanted to know
who the people on the other end, who keep his man smiling after their copulating
sessions are. He constantly asks himself what he needs to do to make him smile
just for him. Maybe it would make their love life better. But it’s too late. I will be leave tomorrow. He thinks
quietly to himself as he mixes some vodka and coke for him. That’s
the plan. It is Friday; he’ll be hanging out till late. I just need to take
charge of my fucked up life.Did I
just call my life fucked? He smiles at the thought. He drowns a shot of
tequila down his throat and squeezes a lemon piece in his mouth…
*****
So
I’m writing this while sitting on my living room’s window. It is so overcast
outside. I always know shit is real when I can’t make out these masts on Ngong
Hills. Is it just me or it’s been cold
like crazy! Blessed are those who have a stay in boyfriend or man for they are
adequately ‘catered’ for. Shit, I just
felt religious. The rest of you all (me included) need to get our hot water
bottles, room heaters and all other winter related shenanigans out. And sweetie,
getting it down with some random bloke isn’t part of the solution to this cold
weather especially when you’ve been trying to bag that man with a southern etiquette,
a west coast attitude and an east coast trust fund, no?
I
digress.
This
weather outside strikes a chord with me and gave me a nudge to scribble
something. I’m particularly reminded of myself before starting this blog and
all. I was simply a twink who just wanted to get laid (with some good dick
while at it) and in the process find love
a man, period. There was really no strategy around it, so going on a date(s) was
done on a whim. Maybe this next guy is
the one. Permission to speak freely? I got ‘serviced’ well! Chile, those were days where I used to prefer some
of my men just like the lemons I take every morning to detox – raw.
There's also that evening I was meeting a bunch of homosexuals for dinner at
the CBD and one of them gave me quite a dressing down that I peculiarly still
recall. “Is that the only shirt you could
find?” He asked, his tone condescending. The rest of the guys laughed it
off as a joke. I made a mental note of it. I would need it someday. Fine, I was
pretty skinny then considering I was a mere clerk who was barely a year old in
employment but for Christ’s sake, it was a Denver Hayes! That experience is
what made me realize I don’t really auger well in those commonplace homosexual circles.
Besides, in this business journey of pursuing dick, we are always alone.
I digress again.
Then there is my friend Benson. Tall, pretty, a strong character,
intuitive et al. who walked out of an abusive relationship on a whim and has never
looked back. The genesis of this article on this cold July afternoon is
something he told me while we were having buna
in Piassa District, Ethiopia in 2013
that has set the dictum for any subsequent romantic interests he has. Wait for
it. “Do you love me, or do you love the
idea of me?” Deep, right?
*****
ANTHONY
RISES UP BUTTONING his brown corduroy blazer as I walk towards him at the far
end of the bar’s patio that overlooks the Lang’ata suburb below. He’s definitely
not as brief petite as I thought from the pictures on Facebook. He has an
amiable smile and urges me to take a seat despite me being over fashionably late
for this coffee date. He unbuttons he sits down. I instantly like him. He had
asked for this meeting two weeks earlier opining that we’d been friends for
over two years and meeting over overpriced coffee wouldn’t hurt. I considered
him more of a fan. By the way, I’m trying to make it a habit to interact with
at least one of my readers in person every month. It gives me a perspective and
in some cases positive criticism on my writing. One of the questions he asks me
really gets my faculties working. “Cole,
I know you are one of the strongest characters in our circles but what’s your
story?” Wait a minute. Just the other day while sitting in an interview
panel, I asked one of the candidates, what’s your story? See, you just don’t
get to turn it round on me but maybe it is the fucking Universe’s way of
achieving balance. His question is valid. One of the things I remember
intimating to him was my self–esteem issues. Opportunely, I have never had
daddy baggage going on. “But you cute,
why would you have esteem problems?” He asked.
There’s
that phase we (young) homosexuals go through. Personally, I was around 22 or 23
thereabout. You’ve just come to terms with the fact that your gayness is here
to stay and so you put yourself out there with all these major expectations. You
idolize the folk who are openly out –Aunty Elton, Michael Sam, More power to
you – the homies in the Pulse Magazine who graced a party in wigs and someone apparently
showed up in heels! For a moment you envision being in their place but hope to
show up in Gucci instead. You try to fit in into some circles just to look cool
but when they are roughly whisked out of the club for gyrating their ass against
a clueless white man’s groin; when some heifer thinks that your clothes ain’t
that cool yet you are putting yourself through college; when all some asshole wants
to know is what car you drive yet he used a motorbike to get here; those
bitches who when you walk into a club, they give you a body check you’d think
they own the place, then you begin to question yourself and the intrigues of
the gay community.
So,
my friend Benson walked out on an abusive boyfriend without notice. The guy who
had made him ostracize friends who tried to help him and foes that his man occasionally
banged. When I come to think of it, venturing into a blog was in a nutshell my
rebellion towards the gay community. For not giving me a man, for not
finding a guy who wants to go out on a movie date, for not giving me a reliable
friend, for making me feel inferior because of the house and area I lived in, for making me a cum dumpster bucket for
reminding me how insufficient I still was thanks to some bitches that had more
drama than a matatu full of drag
queens on their way to a wig sale. Reality is, the gay community didn't owe me, but I sure as hell fucking grew up! It's called Tough love.
Anthony seems almost content with my
response but I can tell it’s not satisfactory. I prod him to tell me about his
life. He looks like the nice boy man, the calm type but whose intentions
you can’t straight away place. I mean, he has title before his name, Single. A
man of means and going by the fact that he speaks so much about sex, who knows
what action he brings in the bedroom. Why the fuck is he still single and isn’t
looking to date! Cole, Focus! My
conscience reprimands me.
Do I love
(using it as a term of endearment) him or
do I love the idea of him? Benson’s words ring in my fucking head!
Most
of us gay people deserve Grammies for the quintessential life we map out in our
creative minds way before we meet a guy. You know. A trophy, his equally
approving family (scrap that, it’s unrealistic), moving in together, adopt
purchase a Chihuahua, start a joint business, go on vacation once a year,
celebrate anniversaries with only close friends etc. Then you meet the actual guy
and the sequence is not exactly as you had anticipated. ‘What do you do?’ You ask. ‘Student,’
he responds. You struggle to construct the next question to ask him considering
he has already indicated he is a thirty something year old man and is being
shady about which college he’s in, you are ambushed by a question, “What do you like in bed?”
Oops,
I’ve just looked up and noticed the masts on Ngong Hills are a bit visible. A
section of the clouds on the horizon on my right are also opening up. I need to
splash some moisturizer on my face, put on my jacket and leave for an interview.
It's gonna be a sunny afternoon I guess. Look, I have no idea of what I have been yapping about for the last forty
minutes. I could be fapping for all I care but Benson’s question sums it up for me, “Do you love me, or do you
love the idea of me?”
I wanted something that denotes my
incessant emancipation. Every day is a step for me to be a great person. I
appreciate where I’ve been despite its misfits, where I am and definitely have
a clue of where I’m going…
*****
He
had suggested we meet over coffee after work that Friday. He picked me at a
tattoo parlour somewhere on Moi Avenue where I was inquiring on prices. We
headed towards Hazina Towers and conveniently sat at the terrace section of the
restaurant. I ordered for some fresh garden salad and cappuccino. He watched me
intently as he sipped some red wine. His eyes expressed a desire of sorts, not
just an overrated interest. It was not that look men give you when they want
to fuck you until you lose your brains. His meant he wanted more. Besides, the
date was the culmination of lengthy phone call conversations we’d had for over
three months. He called every other day. I did most of the talking. He
preferred listening despite my attempts at getting him talk. Fine, I’m a
chatterbox.
“I
love listening to your voice and really do look forward to meeting you.”
He had confessed to me one chilly evening of that June. We argued on songs,
movies and politics. He gave me that approving smile on my strong anti Government’s
opinion(s) on taxation policies. Maybe it’s because he was an Exec in the
banking sector. He challenged me on books and that is what led to the idea of
visiting his house to get a copy of Paul Coelho’s The Alchemist. I disapproved at first but upon reflection consented
on condition that I should be able to get back into town and head home as it
was still early. Ladies and gentlemen, this is how I got to spend my night in
the cold region of Limuru.
*****
June 29 – 30, 2012
Johann
Pachelbel’s the great Canon lingers
in the background. The Television is on mute and currently set on the Universal
Channel. He walks beside me with his hands on his backside as I study the
pictures that are spread all over his living room’s bright walls. He is indeed
a lover of art. I ask him about one of the gold framed pieces hanging on the
last corner of the wall. It is a sizable abstract on canvas of a whose whose tits
are all exposed. Her eyes ooze desire and desperation of sorts. It looks obvious but you know
me, I ain’t that deep. He acquiesces and goes about explaining. I maintain a steady
eye contact with him. Brian is not your particularly dark good – looking guy
but he is somehow handsome. The handsome you would not promptly notice. He
speaks softly. There is something about the rhythm of his speech. It is calculated,
thought out and almost seductive in a way. He raises his right arm to show me
the artist’s signature on the base of the piece. I notice how his arms are
hairy and fingers are long. One of the three buttons in his blue T–shirt is now
loosened exposing strands of black hair on his chest. “Do you agree?” He interrupts my wandering – and of course, not so
saintly – thoughts. “Sure”. I respond
hoping he won’t ask me any further questions on the same since I don’t recall
his explanation…
*****
…The
last of the violin sounds in Canon die down. He has a bottle of beer in his hand.
I am sipping the glass of tonic in a flute glass as I peruse through one of the
three books I’ve picked from his shelf. He’s a generally organized man. The one
you hope will propose to you and take you to his grandma who he speaks so
highly of. There is some awkward silence between us with the music just ended. “I would like one of those pieces”. I
point at one of the less extravagant pieces of art. “I’ll get you one”. He offers. I argue that a recommendation to his
supplier would be sufficient but he insists saying that it is not an issue. “You’ll treat it as a gift from a good
friend”. He sneers and for the first time I notice his cute dimples.
The
TV is un-muted and channels switched. “You
must be feeling cold.” He says offering me his couch duvet. I belatedly
realize that this just breached our social distance and when my hands rub
against his, I get very comfortable. He plants a soft kiss on my lips. I comply
and in the next few minutes we are engaged in a serious saliva exchange action
that leads me into being perched on his lap. Our clothes ask to be excused from
our bodies and what ensues is some serious body to body exploration on that
couch. Nothing penetrative. We both find our release simultaneously on the blue
Persian carpet on the floor after which he leads us to the shower. The whiff
from cranberry and hibiscus scented gel rents the air in the shower room. We
stand still for a moment with the hot drops of water hitting our naked selves.
He leaves the bathroom and returns with a towel and pats me dry. I tie the
towel around my waist. He leads us outside. I notice the TV is off and the only
light is from the aquarium next to the wine cellar. The orange and the golden
fish are swimming animatedly. Don’t these
things get tired? I ask myself.
I’m
all spooned and warm underneath his fleecy blanket ready to get some sleep. Some
fine item starts playing. Wait a minute, isn’t this Jake Owen? His thumb subconsciously
scratches hovers around my left wrist. “Cole, we are done. You were peculiarly relaxed on this procedure”.
Huh? I open my eyes only to realize it’s the voice of Ben, my tattooist that
has interrupted my reverie on last night’s events.
Cole’s Note:
I
haven’t seen Brian for eons but his two pieces of art dangle in my living room.
Oh and the Ink on my wrist is exactly two years today!
…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!
The
sex was ugly, cantankerous, mechanically routine, succinctly put: Sub-standard…
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…
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…
A
Bottom has got to learn how to open his mouth for more than just giving head…
…we
are all whores, the only difference lies in our availability and where we go
for it
…Kumbe
role si muscle!
*******
Cole: It’s your boy Cole on the discourse room dot (B-L-O)
G – Spot and joining us this afternoon are two delightful gentlemen.…
Spencer: Speaking of G
– spot Cole, where’s yours? I just adore that tongue in my ear before foreplay.
(Rolls his eyes)
Mungai:(Raising
his hand) I hate that tongue in my ear shit tops like doing including sticking
their fingers in my ear et al. Are you trying to improve my hearing senses or
what? It’s just plain ticklish! (Flicks imaginary weave)
Cole: I Know Right! The first time someone did that to
me was during a random fling. I was just praying silently that this stranger
inside me doesn’t pull a Mike Tyson on me!
Spencer: I think
everywhere is my G – Spot. As you plunge a kiss on my lips, finger me for ten
minutes then allow me to ride on it with Beyonce’s Naughty Girl in the
background. You know the Boy you are a challenge, let’s explore your talent
sort of way?
Cole: Seriously Spence? I haven’t even done the Behind
the Scenes segment plus I’m the one who gets to run the show here. (Spence
salutes)
Behind The Scenes
1. You guys remember the balcony of men’s (and
women’s) hopes? Well, I think I need to do a spin off based on my recent
experience at the famous Lesbian corner. I swear some of those sisters can
literally harass you! I also ran into three men I have a past with. One was a
guy (remember that guy I had an afternoon lunch date with at the National
Museum?) I had at least two sexual romps with two years ago (he still owes me a
weekend road trip), the next was just one of those random meetings from online-ville that backfired as soon as I walked into the dingy place he’d
suggested. Dude asked me for a loan 3 days after the excruciating first date to
sort out an urgent ‘problem’. Red Cross much? The third I just went down
on him on a rainy evening but we never went all the way since he cummed so
fast. A one minute man. Don’t you just hate those? I digress. They were
all interesting encounters despite the awkward feeling that lingered in the
back of my mind. Maybe one of these men is the ever elusive husband I keep
searching for. It’s also vice versa, I mean they still go to Envy hoping…
2.NFL star
and player Michael Sam was drafted last week making him one of the yummiest
esteemed and gay pro athletes of our time! Now that was all good. Just like Arsenal
and the FA trophy Cup, I even have no idea what all that stuff entails. However,
let’s be candid, I won’t just pretend that I never caught feelings after seeing
that kiss he gave his boyfriend (name escapes me). All that built, weight and
smile…that white boy gets to wake up to all of that? Why are some people just
lucky? Whoa, Can you imagine just the sheer experience of being banged by a…
Mungai: Cole, did
you just assign roles to the adorable couple?
Cole: No I didn’t…
Spencer: And what’s
wrong with assigning roles, you expect all that hotness in Sam to be banged by
some pretty white boy?
Mungai: You can
never be too sure Spencer. I have met very nicely chiseled guys who love being
dicked. Remember that guy from the Fap
depot? Cole, you ought to withdraw the implied role assigning…
3. Now during the weekend I bowed down to pressure
from one of my bitches and started watching this series Game of Thrones. Anal
sex much??? I don’t know maybe it was a birth control measure by then…Now
imagine Khal Rogo inside you, woop!
Spencer:Cole, this one I have to interrupt. He’s
actually a very romantic guy (Imitates a deep voice), ‘Moon of my life,
are you hurt?’
Cole:(Interrupts) I’m still on Episode 3, I will
smack you if you spoil it for me unless you mean the first time he has a
frontal romp with this blonde girl and knocks her up. So let me ask you, a
gift from the great stallion means sperm right?
Spencer:(Bursts
into laughter) OMG. I choose not to contribute lest you smack me. The blonde
girl is called Khaleesi.
Mungai: Cole, I
think gift means meant the baby.Oh-oh, wait,
what made you conclude Khal Rogo is the great stallion?
Spencer: Mungai,
please continue this is getting so juicy…I think he assumed that Khal Rogo must
be having a large ding dong. Remember he asked anal sex much?
Cole:(Feigning nonchalance) So Spence, why did
you come sucking on a lollipop on C.D.R?
Spencer: Cole,
really? I’ve been doing this for ages, makes me more relaxed. I have an extra
one, interested?
Cole: No Thanks. (Mungai reaches out for the sweet)
Don’t worry; your blow job expertise is not in doubt. Since you guys have
ruined my Behind the Scenes moment, we may as well commence. Top or Bottom?
Spencer: Honey, I was
born to be Bottom. Cole, my name for purposes of this article is Spencer,
Bottomy (PhD).
Mungai: I am Versatile,
but more bottom?
Spencer:(Rolls
eyes) what is that even supposed to mean? I just don’t get this versatile
shit. Make up your damn minds.
Cole: I think he just quoted one of those Planet Romeo
statuses on us.
Mungai: Okay, fine.
I am a bottom with the hope of exploring Top hood in the unforeseeable future.
(Brief
Silence)
Cole: Ooo…kay.
Spencer: Cole, since
you said this is a roundtable discourse, I have always wanted to hear that
experience with the guy who made you guys pray after sex.
Cole:(Sighs) You know the way bottoms say that
when they go down on their knees, it’s not actually to pray? It actually
happened. The guy truly had game and I envy whoever he’s banging now. The weird
thing I still remember him asking me for was Dettol, the disinfectant to clean
his tool just before he left my place. I mean, it’s not like we had it raw or I
messed the sheets…
Mungai:(Spencer
unsuccessfully suppresses laughter) Okay, that was weird! You remind me of
this guy, he is actually some pastor in one of those Satellite Churches in an
Estate in Kiambu County. I met him on a random evening. (Spencer and Cole
look intently) What? I’d been sexually starved for two months and distance
wasn’t going to stop me from being dicked. I got to his place at around
7 p.m. As he made us (Imitates Avril’s I’m Missing You) Ugali, Nyama
(beef) and Sukuma (Kales), we exchanged a few Bible verses we thought were
profound and sang Gospel songs. Any song he started, I finished it to his
satisfaction. After dinner, he asked me to join him in his bedroom…We sang some
more songs before the touching started. (Sips some martini)
Spencer: Man, this
was such a…Spiritual affair matter. Please do tell more…
Mungai: The man of
cloth had a good tool of trade, not too big, not too medium, just the right
size. So I went down on my knees to give it a…
Cole: Blessing…
(Mungai
High fives Cole)
Mungai: I swear the
moment I had a grip of his junk. He started panting real hard. He swore to me
he had never been given a blowjob. At some point he kept making all these
pleasure noises which kept me wondering whether he cared about the neighbors’ beyond
the next wall. To cut the story short, the only weird thing with that guy is that
anytime I sucked his d!ck, he had this maroon towel he kept wiping his rod with
before I gave it another plunge. I did this until he was…
Cole: Wait a minute, you mean all that saliva was going
to waste? I mean, he kept on wiping with every suck…
Spencer: …I would
feel my efforts were being wasted. A Top, amateur or not should know that a
blow job is a privilege, not a right! Bitch, that was very weird. Personally, what
I particularly abhor is him telling me to direct it in yet my legs are
suspended God knows where. I mean you are the one down there, figure your way
in!
(Cole
and Mungai are in stitches)
Mungai: It may also
mean you are having sex in the dark you know, I feel you though!
(Spencer
is silent while Mungai’s face still beaming)
Cole: I’m on your side Spence, I’m still also trying to
figure out how to have sex with the lights on and I do agree, a top who knows
the terms of reference that come with that role shouldn’t ask you to direct it
in. (Laughs) But on a positive note, if he can’t locate the hole, then
you ain’t a hoe!
Spencer: Preach
sister! Can I get a high five!
Mungai:(Signals
a finger) Let me write that down.
Cole: The other day I met this client, awesome guy, a
familiar face from a chapter in my past actually. Then the following day he
introduces me to this tall twink who works for him with all the intention of
making me jealous…
Mungai: How comes
you guys ain’t an item? Did you shag somewhere in that history?
Cole: Bitch relax, I’m getting there. But since you’ve
asked, I swear the foreplay and/or romance, someone cancel my France ticket
already! (Sighs)
Spencer:(Slightly
bangs the table) Bitch, we are still waiting, any dick action with the
client?
Cole: To be honest, it was tiny. If I’m to be generous
enough, the size of my forefinger when erect?
(Mungai
and Spence’s jaws are open)
Mungai: Cole, you
really love them big enough for deep throat?
Cole: Er…I’m not saying that I love my fellatio deep, to
an extent of almost choking, it’s just that it can be really disappointing when
it just reaches somewhere slightly past the middle of your tongue…
Spencer:(Wiping
his right eye) I feel you sister. I got 99 problems and a small d!ck ain’t
one of them…
Mungai: By the way,
I also have a similar history. He was well toned, tall, great face but when he
was behind me, we were doing it while standing; it just felt like something was
scratching me. It was definitely not a gift from the great stallion! (Spencer
and Cole are in full laughter) However, I still don’t get bottoms’
obsession with big dicks yet they are the same people who complain about pain
the following day.
Spencer: Indeed. I
think one should go for what he can handle. You don’t want someone messing up
your insides ruining a future with all these fine prospective men. So guys,
what are your thoughts on rim jobs?
Mungai: It’s a top’s
gift to his bottom, period!
Cole: I know I may get stoned for this. I just don’t like
being rimmed or fingered.
Spencer: Mungai, you
kind of summarize it very well for me. I love getting a good rim. All that
douching enema business has to be rewarded you know. Cole, you ain’t alone,
some bottoms just don’t like the rim business and a good top ought to ask. Word
of advice though, next time he’s down there, just ask him to give you a tongue
job on the small island at the apex of your thighs. You will die!
Mungai: Spence, you
do realize I am also taking notes, what island?
Spencer: The small
area between the end of your balls and the beginning of the river that
separates your right and left booty silly…
Cole: Chile, the things you are teaching me today, you
are such a whore!
Spencer: Aren’t we
all? You are already an authority on that.
Cole:(Lifts his hands in surrender). I will
experiment and let you know how it felt. Now let’s go to fantasy sex. I would
want mine over my future man’s office desk at lunchtime, in his office of
course. A little bird whispered to me that it makes you highly productive in the
afternoon and you won’t even feel hungry.
Spencer: So let me
just get that right, so you will call that some ‘dick lunch’ or something?
(Mungai
drops the lollipop)
Cole: Yes, if you say so. Clearly you have that Bottomy,
PhD
Spencer: I still
envisage having it on a plane’s washroom over 40,000 ft. The only problem with
Airline washrooms is the size but I don’t think it will shake the plane like
Mungai’s Prado situation, no?
Mungai: Don’t ask
me, I have no prior experience on that. I would still want to have sex on the
beach…
Cole: There is this nude beach in Cape Town you know…
Mungai: Not exactly,
it’s not like I’m asking for a shag in a public beach in the mother city. The
idea is that it should be somewhere cozy, sandy and next to an ocean.
Spencer: What if the
sand goes into your boy hole? He may have to apply some lube and his d!ck may
be in contact with sand you know…
Mungai: Don’t ruin
my party, what’s the work of these Maasai blankets Cole loves buying for his
foreign friends!
(Spencer
raises his hands in surrender)
Cole:Speaking of beach sex, what are some of the places
you’d love to visit as a gay man at some point in your life guys?
Spencer: San
Francisco baby!
Mungai: It has to be
Cape Town.Cole, if you were asked to be
a slave for the night and you turned it down and slept all alone in your hotel
room, I don’t swing that way to opportunity.
Cole:(Pointing at Mungai) Spence, this hoe
clearly ain’t loyal. Fair enough. My dream destination has to be Morocco. The
only reason is that it has the highest number of zegas in Africa on Planet
Romeo. I can only imagine the nightlife. Who knows, maybe there is where I may
bag an Arab prince who has a booming oil business!
Spencer: So Cole,
you’re into interracial?
Cole: Well, let me just say, Just like my Rooibos tea, I
don’t mind having it with milk occasionally.
Mungai: He should
tell you about his Chinese date…
Cole: Really Mungai?
Spencer: Well?
Cole: He was a great date. Hanging out having Chinese
food during the period he was here, helping him shop for gifts for his
colleagues and family back in Hong Kong etc. But just the thought of him asking me to go to
his hotel room at some nocturnal hour always bothered me. I swear the excitement
when he finally left, so much for Kenya – China relations, no?
Mungai: Just like my
coffee I prefer my men black but I don’t have a problem with Caucasian men.
They can be pretty romantic too. I mean, they are the only ones who can spoon
you the whole night and in the morning you still wake up inside their warm grip.
For our black men, the only thing that will keep waking you up is something
hard poking your ass only to realize he wants another round!
Spencer:(Still
smiling) OMG it’s actually true. I actually can’t trust any gay man
spooning me naked, I always have to put my boxers or shorts on after the deed. Of course it never
yields much because at some point I still find it sagged halfway exposing three
quarters of my butt.
Cole: Speaking of rounds, on average how many should one
handle?
Mungai: I guess it
depends on whether one is a power bottom. In a single night, I guess four
rounds are sufficient.
Spencer: That’s less
and will make a man wander. If you have an available man to service you, one in
the morning as you shower, another in the afternoon – preferably lunch hour –
another just before dinner, another three or four hours after dinner, another
when he ‘disturbs’ you in the middle of the night and of course morning glory.
How many were those?
Cole: Six rounds in a day? I may not be a power bottom but I ain’t a cum
bucket either…that’s just so much work, plus I am the one who gets to sit on a
basin full of warm waterin the morning
to cool that sore ass!
Mungai: Okay six is
definitely a lot but I like the way you program your timing too with the food.
A Bottom must never have vigorous sex just shortly after he has had a meal lest
you mess up his or your sheets. How long should he take before he cums?
Spencer: At least 7 -
10 minutes in each position you experiment?
Cole:(Shaking his head) I can’t… I personally
prefer sex before a meal so that my tummy is clear and prepared for the ordeal.
Plus I get to eat better thereafter since I’ll be all hungry and thirsty. Mungai,
earlier Spence talked about a Prado incident, care to share?
Mungai: Damn, and
here I was thinking you wouldn’t ask. I met him at a popular watering hole within
the CBD. It was relatively early in the evening. He was all alone and winked at me before
joining me on my table. Thereafter we drove towards Lang’ata. It was around
7p.m and quite dark, then he just pulled over around the cemetery area, switched off the
engine and moved to the back of the car. That was my best sex in the car
experience…
(Cole
and Spencer looking stunned)
Cole: Wait wait wait…you’ve had sex at Lang’ata cemetery
Mungai???
Mungai: It was
inside a car, there’s a difference…
Spencer: Bitch, that’s
my route home and that area ain’t safe. Plus it is always very dark…
Mungai: That’s the
point; no one could see the car…well, unless maybe the cars heading to Karen
and the Republic of Rongai through the reflection of their headlights?
Spencer: My point
exactly…even in my 27 and a half years of being gay, I have never had sex in a
cemetery! Cole you’re strangely quiet. (Cole crosses himself)
What if you were killed or something?
Mungai: We had a
second date, it means I did something right…
Cole: Huh? It continues...
Mungai: Yes, the
next time was around 8p.m around the Kencom parking lot. It was raining
buffaloes and elephants. After the romp, we waited for the rain to stop, that’s
when I got to learn he is married with three kids. Been a while since I heard
from him...
Spencer: Thank God. I
swear if a man took me to a cemetery, I would never see or hear of him again;
what if ghosts joined and it became an orgy?
Mungai: It’s never
that serious.
Cole: I’ve only had two car situations. The Indian guy
who made me meet him at Oil Libya in Westlands and wanted us to kiss and smoke
weed. And me leaning on Abner in Jozi as he drove home after that Factory tryst.
That’s all. I have never had sex in a car; just thinking of the mechanics involved
gives me a migraine.
Mungai: Aww…you are
such a saint, what if Abner caused an accident love?
Spencer: Honey
please, drop the sarcasm. I have skillfully administered a blow job from the
city centre to Lang’ata as he drove. We were heading to Carnivore, not a
cemetery like some people I know. He released the gifts from the great stallion
around Wilson
(Spencer
joins Cole in laughter)
Mungai: I have also
given fellatio to a guy driving a car. What we did, we went up Ngong road, took
that turn around Nairobi Area Police Station, joined valley road, came all the
way until he found his release around Serena Hotel. He finally dropped me at
the famous Sonford and ordered for me half chicken and some fries. He then requested
to leave.
Cole: The things that happen in this city… (Shakes his head)
Spencer: So Cole, did
you kiss that Indian guy?
Cole: No. I don’t just kiss anyone unless we have some serious
connection even if we have never met before.
Mungai: Same here
Spencer: Me three.
Mungai, you earlier talked about the pastor making some noises. What is your
opinion on sex sounds? My best man had heavy grunts.
Mungai: Well, the
best sounds still remain with that guy. (Imitates) ‘I’m cumming! I’m
cumming! Woo! I love you!’ He kept on chanting that anytime he was near. I
personally never make any sounds maybe just grinding my teeth and biting my
lips as I breathe heavily?
Cole: I think if he’s pounding it right and to encourage
him to finish, he needs an audience. I don’t make any noises but just get all
touchy...
Spencer: …I
personally moan just for him to know that during his hard work he had an
audience.
Cole:My best
noise was ‘Yes Baby!Yes Baby! I’m
Cumming! Thank You!’
Mungai: What’s with
that ‘Thank You’ after sex anyway?
Spencer: I Know
Right! It’s not like the favor was one way you know…
Cole: Please, don’t get me started on those who direct
your hand towards their booty hoping you will finger them for them to finally
cum!
(Mungai
and Spencer high five)
Cole: As we wind up guys, any advice for fellow bottoms
out there other than bleeding for better reasons this year?
Spencer: My pet peeve
is with those still experimenting with vegetable products in this age of
pleasure toys. The other day we were at Zucchini and this friend of mine told
me that he really gets turned on just by the sight of the huge fresh cucumbers.
Mungai: Shh…I have
had my fair share of drama with Carrots; you know the huge ones like the ones you
get at Timboroa?
Spencer:(in tears)
Just stop. My point is, some of these things are dangerous and can break inside.
Cole: Bitch, you do know sometimes the thirst gets real
and dildos ain’t cheap anyway. Plus what if my cleaning lady finds it? That
said, I have never tried any cucumber or carrots but courgettes have kind of
given me such nasty thoughts. Thanks for your thoughts anyway. Mungai?
