It started shortly after my fifteenth birthday.
As usual, Mum and Dad, always looking for an excuse to throw some money around had thrown me a lavish birthday party. I had invited some of my friends from school and some of Mum and Dad’s friends were also present. One of Dad’s lawyer friends had just walked in with his son Bode. I first met Bode a few years back and each time I saw him, he seemed to get more handsome. He was about three years older, which would make him around about eighteen. He was now a freshman at the University of Benin. I really wanted to be his friend; I wanted to be around him all the time, sometimes I spent hours dreaming about what it would be like to live with him in the same house, waking up in the same house with him, watching the TV together in the evenings and all. I was so drawn to Bode; I just had to talk to him. On that day, I finally summoned up the courage. Bode was surprisingly easy to talk to and before long, we had become firm friends. We went to the mall together, to the movies, to parties. I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with him, looking at his handsome face out of the corner of my eyes as he drove or as we walked along. I cherished every moment with him and looked forward to our hangouts. I was surprised and a little bit shocked to realize that I felt a rush of pleasure when he informed me that his girlfriend Melvina was ill and would spend a whole month in the hospital and would thus be unavailable to “keep him away from me”. Bode and I were practically inseparable.
And then just last week, he had come over to my house with a new DVD we were going to watch together. By the time we had finished watching the movie, the rain was pounding overhead with no sign that it would let up anytime soon. Bode pulled out his blackberry and sent his father a text explaining that he would be unable to make it home that night. We had dinner and then talked about all sorts of random stuff for a few hours. During all this time, the atmosphere between us was thick with a certain tension. It was a Friday night and there would be no school the next day for me. He had just finished his exams and was home on a three–week break. Mum was still away in Europe on her business trips while Dad was in Port Harcourt all week for a major Court Case involving some oil companies. I yawned and moved to the bed and few minutes later Bode joined me. He turned off the lights and I rolled onto my usual sleeping position on my back.
I had been asleep for one hour, two hours; I wasn’t sure because I woke with a start. It was still pitch dark outside, so it definitely wasn’t day break yet. I lay in the dark motionless and disoriented until I realized that Bode’s hands were in my pants. He had my hard penis in his hands and he gently rubbed his hands back and forth over the tip. It felt strange yet good; I had never felt this way before. I felt a rising panic and wanted him to stop. My mind flashed back to that day when Mum and Dad had talked about the two men she saw in Europe holding hands and kissing. Was what I felt similar to what they engaged in? Was this how it all started? I could clearly see the disgust as well as hear the disdain and revulsion in their voices as they discussed it. It felt wrong and yet so pleasurable, I knew then that I would never be able to stop Bode from doing this.
A long drawn–out sigh escaped from me, and Bode realized I was awake. He jerked his hand away quickly, but I grabbed it and put it back. Emboldened, he turned on the reading lamp by the bedside and I could see that he was completely nude. He reached out and pulled down my boxer shorts while I marveled at his athletic body which rippled with lean sexy muscles. He pulled my hand to his dick; it was long and thick with large veins coursing down its length. I squeezed and pulled at it while Bode moaned with his eyes closed. By now, all thoughts of Mum and Dad were totally banished to the further reaches of my consciousness. He brought his mouth close to mine and began to kiss me. At first I felt a rising panic as well as revulsion. I had never kissed a male before, I had kissed a few girls even when I was as young as eleven. I tried to twist away from his soft lips but he held me fast till I was overcome by pleasure. He simultaneously stroked my hard dick till I came suddenly. I was immediately overcome by a sense of panic and unease. I cleaned myself up and went to sleep.
The next morning, Bode woke early and left for his home. I was in a daze, replaying the events of last night in my head over and over again. I could not believe that I had been touched this way by a boy and had thoroughly enjoyed it. I felt a rush of conflicting emotions – fear, revulsion, desire, anticipation and to my horror and in spite of all I felt, I knew I wanted to do this again. I knew it was taboo in my culture, my society and to my family but yet, I knew I had thoroughly enjoyed and wanted to do this again.
Just then my phone beeped – a text message: “I’ve been wanting to do this with you for a long time. I hope you liked it like I did, please let’s keep this as our little secret.”
I was in an emotional whirl, so I didn’t reply Bode’s text for several hours even though I read and re–read it several times.
Over the course of the next few weeks, I overcame my initial inhibitions, and Bode and I found every and any excuse to be alone together. And once we were alone, we would pounce on each other with an insane desire. We kept at this for a few weeks, losing all inhibition and sense of caution. We got bolder and more carefree, trying new things with each passionate encounter. I was madly in love with him and didn’t care about anything else. I had learned to tune out the little voice of guilt which tried to rein me in every now and then.
Bode was so much fun, he made me do all kinds of crazy, daring things I never thought I would ever do. It all seemed so risqué and mad fun. I was having a blast.
One evening, he drove over to my house in one of his Dad’s cars and picked me up. I thought we would be heading to the mall to eat or see a movie as usual, but instead we drove to a wine bar and picked up a bottle of Vodka. We drove to a quiet spot, rolled down the windows and talked while drinking. It was my first taste of alcohol, I knew Mum had warned me about underage drinking, but as long as I was with Bode, I could do anything and everything would always be okay. I loved him, and had that much faith in him. I quickly got inebriated while Bode kept talking; we giggled and laughed at each other’s jokes. Later in the night, he drove me back home.
As I stepped out of the car, I turned to look at him and saw the desire in his eyes. “Come inside with me,” I whispered.
He needed no further prompting and practically raced into the house with me. We rushed to my bedroom and began kissing frantically. In a blur, our clothes were lying in heaps on the floor and we were twisted around each other on the bed. We were lost in liquor-induced bliss.
Suddenly, I heard a scream. It pierced through the drunken haze, it was a scream laden with pain, rage, surprise and hatred. It was Dad’s voice. He rushed to the bed and grabbed Bode by the neck, screaming and foaming at the mouth. His eyes and all the veins in his neck bulged. I had never seen him this murderously angry. There were tears in his eyes as he shook Bode by the neck, screaming, “What are you doing with my son? He’s only 15, you’re trying to turn him into a homosexual? Eh? Your father is a very decent man! I can’t believe he has a son who is gay! This is horrible, horrible! Is this what you are?!”
I shook like a leaf in the wind while Dad continued to scream and slap Bode across the face over and over again. Bode cowered in fright and tried in vain to resist the hard blows he was receiving. Eventually, Dad threw him aside, pulled off his thick leather belt and came at me. He blocked off the doorway so there was no escape. I could never forget the sting of the leather on my body. He struck repeatedly; I lost count of how many strokes he swung at me. Finally, mercifully, when I felt I could take no more, he stopped.
Towering over me, he continued to scream: “You are a disgrace! God knows I have worked hard to provide you with everything! You have never lacked!” He seemed to be losing his grip on rationality. “This is all your mother’s fault! I suggested we send you off to a strict catholic boarding school, just like the one I went to! The discipline in those places is so strict, this could never happen there! But she begged and insisted that we keep you at home with us, she wanted to spare you the strict discipline of a Catholic Boarding School. I can now see I was very wrong to have paid heed to her! And you Bode, I never want to see you come close to my son ever again, now get dressed and get out of my house, you sick animal!”
Three days after that incident, Mum did not speak to me. I saw the dazed look of shock and pain in her eyes when Dad told her. The pain I saw in her eyes hurt me far more than the beating I received at Dad’s hands. Several times I contemplated grabbing one of the long gleaming knives in the kitchen and stabbing myself to death or slashing my wrists like I’d read about some people. I was so utterly unhappy and felt like the worst sinner in the world. Eventually, as the week wore on, Mum came into my room where I was holed up, curled into a ball on my bed. She looked at me for a few minutes and paused to wipe the tears from her eyes. Finally, she found her voice.
“Tobechi, your Dad has decided to send you to boarding house. You are leaving for the Marian Academy on Sunday. He already spoke to the principal there who has agreed to accept you. We both agreed that you are derailing and need strict supervision as well as a more firm hand. We have made arrangements for all your uniforms, provisions and school supplies. So get yourself ready, Isaac will be here at 7:30 on Sunday to drive you down.”
And so on Sunday, I packed a small bag and climbed into the car, Mum gave me a quick tearful hug as I closed the car door. Daddy didn’t want to set his eyes on me, he was still angry and shocked. Abuchi was away at for twelve weeks at a football camp in England. As we drove off, I sat in stony silence determined not to cry or court any sympathy. I had done enough crying in the last few days.
Written by CeeCee
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Hmmmmmmmmmmmm dats all I can say
I feel the pain
…. there is a consistent trend of paranoia on this blog. Is being gay synonymous with being paranoid? are the owners of this blog paranoid? Is paranoia perhaps an instrument of powerful writing, sort of mixing the ‘happily ever after’ with a bit of fear and suspense?
I’m not paranoid about being gay. I’m happy. Actually happy and gay are synonyms.
Uh, what on earth are you talking about, Lanre?
Erm! Lanre your comment has no bearing with the story.
The story speaks to our reality in this part of the world. Parents don’t realise the emotional scars they leave on their kids. They are so consumed with “appearing perfect” by society standards that they don’t take the time to actually find out more about what their kids are going through.
ehmmmmm ok so I am loving this!!!!
Mehn!!!!! I can feel his pain. Nice write up tho
love is hard…..society makes it harder.
our parents love us, they just can’t bear and grasp wat being gay is…the society says its a taboo- that we are taboo. they want to be accepted by the society, so they forsake us because of that. I know how it feels. I’m new here n I’m loving this
Welcome Porcelain. Stick around. There’s more stories to be shared.