BUNKSIDE FRENZY (Episode 5)

The writer of this series, CeeCee would now like to be known as ‘Khaleesee’ (lol). That’s it. That’s the press release. 🙂 To catch up on previous episodes of Bunkside Frenzy, click HERE.

And now, for today’s episode . . .

*

photoshootI bought the forms for the University exams, of course paid for by one of my numerous admirers. His name was Gilbert; he had just finished his one–year National Service and had immediately been employed by one of the major retail banks. I met him one evening while taking a walk with another friend when I was home on vacation, we chatted a bit and I didn’t pay him too much attention. The next morning, I woke up to find two missed calls on my phone. I called back and it turned out to be Gilbert on the other end, he told me the usual story of how he had fallen in love with me the moment he saw me with my friend and how he would love to see more of me. By now I was a seasoned expert at men issues, so I feigned disinterest for about four weeks during which he kept calling and trying to set up a date.

Eventually, I agreed to meet him in one of the bars in town. I arrived a few minutes earlier and settled down to wait for him. He arrived moments later and joined me at the table. We got talking and I realized he was quite a nice and interesting guy with a great sense of humor. He soon had me laughing uncontrollably. I thoroughly enjoyed the evening and agreed to visit him at home during the weekend. The day I visited him, moments after I walked in through the door, we pounced on each other, driven by lust. However, it didn’t take long for us to discover that we were both tops and could therefore not have any meaningful sex. We resolved to become good friends, and over the next few weeks, we spent a lot of time together, particularly in the evenings when he finished from work. It turned out that he had graduated from the University of Abuja where I desired to study.

Gaining entry into the University of Abuja became like a project for me, an obsession in fact. I pulled every string, followed up every contact, flirted with every man, paid every bribe demanded. And a few months later, when the admissions list was published, my efforts paid off. My name was near the top of the list! I had been admitted to study Dramatic Arts. I was ecstatic. Mum and Dad were joyful at the news. By this, they had all but forgotten the incident with Bode which occurred about five years earlier, and I was then an expert at hiding my activities so they never even suspected that I was gayer than ever.

As the day of my departure to the capital city drew near, I said my goodbyes to all my friends and the guy I was dating at that time – Bayo, a fresh graduate with lots of time to spare. He was good in bed, but lately I’d started getting bored. My mind was fixated on Abuja, that far away glittering city bursting with fun and excitement, handsome young men as well as generous older ones. I couldn’t wait to leave. At that point, I would gladly have walked all the way there.

Finally, the great day came! I woke very early in the morning, showered and dressed; having packed my things days in advance, I was rearing to go. Mum and Dad came into my room, offered some words of advice as well as prayed for me, then we all got in the car and drove down to the airport. I hugged them both goodbye and got on the plane.

About an hour later, I touched down in Abuja. I was bursting with excitement as I collected my luggage at the carousel and headed out of the terminal building. The university had sent a bus to pick its new students. I placed my bags in the luggage compartment and climbed onto the bus. From force of habit, I had already spotted a handsome, interesting looking dude, who was drawing some attention from some of the giggly girls among the passengers; seeing that the seat beside him was empty, I hurried to get settled beside him.

As the bus pulled out of the airport and made its way towards the University Campus, I tried to strike up a conversation with him. I gave him some subtle cues and hints, made some suggestive gestures, tried every trick I had acquired over the years in luring men. Nothing worked; all my machinations seemed to bounce off him. He didn’t even seem to notice me beyond the pages of the inspirational-something-or-the-other book he was reading. Eventually, I gave up, pulled out my Blackberry and commenced texting my friends.

I spent all of the first few days settling down to life on campus, concluding my registration formalities and furnishing my room. I was enjoying myself thoroughly and by the following weekend, I already had a date. His name was Abdul, he was in his early forties, married with kids. His family lived in Dubai while he ran a large construction company in Abuja. A friend of his in Lagos had told him about me and he was eager to meet me. I was walking down to the Cafeteria for lunch when my phone rang.

“Hello… Am I speaking to Tobechi… Your friend Mark gave me your number, said you’re new in town and need some friends to show you around… If you’re free this weekend, I’d be happy to meet up with you, just let me know…”

Of course I made myself free for the weekend! And so on Friday afternoon, he sent his driver to pick me up. He was waiting for me at a quiet restaurant in a posh part of the city. He was so polite and gracious, and within minutes, I was absolutely taken with him. He said all the right things and treated me like royalty. We went to a house party organized by one of his friends later than evening; there were lots of interesting guys there. I could tell that a number of them wished to engage me in conversation, but I had eyes for Abdul only. Thereafter, I spent a wonderful weekend with him. He was charming, interesting, funny and of course very good in bed. He knew how to touch me in all the right places. Early on Monday morning, his driver dropped me off on Campus just in time for lectures. Before long, I was spending every weekend with Abdul, except when he had to travel out of town on business. I was so in love with him, and our relationship consumed every spare time – and some – I had. And so, I didn’t study as hard as I should have, and when it was time for my first round of tests, I didn’t perform as well as I should have.

It didn’t take me long to discover that the University of Abuja, and indeed the entire city of Abuja, was packed full of gay men. By now, I was skilled in the art of spotting like-minded guys. I had already found a few in the campus, simply by carefully watching their mode of dressing, speech and body language.

This was how I met Deji, a 400 level Law student. On the outside, Deji appeared to be a regular guy with nothing to suggest he was anything other than any other undergraduate. He was always around girls all over campus and seemed to enjoy their company tremendously, like many other male students. But his eyes gave him away.

We both lived in the same hostel block, but on different floors. My roommate was one of his classmates, a skinny, bookish guy whom I found totally boring and only spoke to when it was necessary, as his head was always buried in one thick law textbook or the other. He was the unofficial brain of the class and a steady stream of law students frequently came by for help with difficult topics. Deji had come by a few times to discuss topics such as trusts, priorities, the tort of defamation, the doctrines of equity and several others. All these big-sounding words bored me to the extreme and were a guaranteed way to ruin my mood, so I learned to either take a long walk whenever my roommate and his classmates were having those discussions or I would push my earphones firmly into my ears and turn on some music to drown out their endless droning of legalese.

On this particular day, about two girls had come before Deji. I was tired of it all, but was in the mood for a walk. So I pulled out my iPod and plugged my earphones in my ears, and in a few minutes I was carried away by Whitney Houston’s melodious voice. I hummed along quietly in my corner of the room, completely oblivious to anything happening around me, until I felt a tap on my shoulder. I was startled and looked up to find Deji standing next to me with a smile on his face.

“Sorry to startle you,” he said, “but your music volume was so high that I could hear it from across the room. I overheard the last few tracks you’ve been playing. I’m also a big fan of Whitney Houston.”

And so, I discovered a new and previously unknown part of Deji which I had never before seen. He was even more passionate about Whitney Houston’s music than I was; he knew all the lyrics, year of album release as well as random tidbits about her life. Before long, we became firm friends. He would often invite me to his room on weekends for dinner and drinks.

One evening, I had just finished fighting with Abdul over the phone and was feeling depressed. Recently, our relationship had started to go sour. His body language had changed, and he was no longer as attentive to me as he used to be. Sometimes, weeks would go by without a call or loving text from him, unlike in the past when we spoke at every opportunity and he always told me how much he wanted to have me by his side. Some days ago, I’d even seen a text from another guy on his phone, we had fought bitterly about it and he apologized and told me the guy got his number from a mutual friend and had been sending loving texts, a gesture he was totally unresponsive towards. I didn’t believe him. I was smart enough to realize that our relationship was slowly rolling to an end. I had therefore started to cast my eyes around for a suitable replacement.

On this particular evening, I was feeling particularly pissed as Abdul hadn’t called or sent the new smartphone he promised to get me on his last business trip to Europe. This particular fight had totally ruined my mood, I couldn’t study or sleep. Out of the blue, a text came in from Deji: “Hey, what are you doing this fine Saturday evening, I’ve got some movies and lots of food, care to join me?”

I threw on my clothes and freshened up, and thirty minutes later, I knocked on Deji’s door. He lived in a flat outside the Campus, away from most of the other students, in a quiet residential part of the city. He answered the door wearing nothing but a pair of tight shorts. As randy as I was feeling, I couldn’t help but notice his well-toned body, and the firm-looking ass that was accentuated by the tight shorts. I wanted to ravage him there and then.

He must have noticed the lust in my gaze, because he looked into my eyes knowingly and said, “Why don’t you sit down and let me get you something to drink…”

We watched a few movies and had lots to drink. I got so inebriated that I could only vaguely remember Deji leading me to his bed and taking off my clothes. He was a skilful lover, and never tired of my dick. And in the days that followed that sexual encounter, I discovered all the sides to him that the initial inhibitions on our friendship didn’t let me see. He was fun and adventurous; he always knew where the hottest parties in town were holding, and through him, I became deeply immersed in the thriving but largely underground gay scene in the capital city. Soon, I’d completely forgotten Abdul and was now happily sampling the men of all ages and shapes and sizes that Abuja had to offer. I was on a roll, the men loved me and I loved them back just as much. We couldn’t seem to get enough of ourselves. My phone was constantly buzzing with calls and texts and pings, inviting me to this or that party or this or that get together. My social diary was fully packed and there was never a dull moment. I received several proposals from other guys who wanted to enter a steady relationship with me, but I simply couldn’t be bothered to stick to any one guy when I could have several of them. Life on the fast lane felt very good.

It was about two weeks to my exams and I had just gotten into intense study mode – a period where I wound down my social life, deactivated my mobile internet, neglected my usually carefully groomed appearance and basically spent my days buried in my books, with breaks only for meals and short naps. I’d not been doing so well all semester, and I was anxious to make a positive impact with the exams.

But Fate was not to let me be.

Deji suddenly showed up at my room where I was deeply engrossed in one of my handouts. Ignoring my irritated frown at his sudden interruption of my studies, he enthused, “My dear, na you read pass? Abeg drop that book joor. I was invited to one hot party in Kaduna on Saturday. I hear there’ll be lots of hot men there o! Yelz!” He placed one hand against his chest and rolled his eyes theatrically at me. “Abeg, prepare, lets go joor, I need to sample some beta Kaduna kundu.”

I tried to use my upcoming exams as an excuse, but Deji was having none of it. He promised that we would only spend one night and return to Abuja the morning following the party. With a sigh, I agreed. And so, early on Saturday evening, one of Deji’s numerous friends, Debola drove up to the campus together with another guy. Deji and I climbed into the car and soon we were on our way. The trip was smooth and uneventful, a little over two hours, during which Debola adeptly managed to drive the car while gyrating his hips to the lyrics of various Beyoncé tracks, while his friend and I engaged in a heavy make-out session in the backseat.

Debola seemed to know Kaduna very well, he navigated its bustling streets with ease. Since it was only about 7.30 pm, Deji – ever the diva – announced, “Let’s go to one of my friend’s houses and chill till around 9pm, then we make a grand entrance and let these Kaduna bitches know we’ve arrived. We are too hot to come in early with the rest of the attendees.” And he promptly pulled out his phone and spoke briefly into it, and soon we were on our way.

Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up outside a neat little bungalow in a quiet residential neighbourhood. The door was answered by a slim, dark guy with obvious Northern features. He had an effeminate but charming air about him, and when he opened the door to us, he screamed and threw up his arms up to hug Deji. “Dejiiiii, na wa o!” he gushed. “Long time, you just forget me, hmm, why didn’t you tell me you were coming to KD naw? My sista, I don miss you o.”

We walked into the house where Deji introduced us all to Lamin. Soon we were gisting and gossiping like old friends, with Lamin giving us the latest scoop from Kaduna, while we enjoyed the food and drinks he provided.

Around 9.30, all freshened up and with Lamin in tow, we climbed into Debola’s car to head out to the party venue, which was a short drive away. When we got there, the party was well underway with about forty guests in attendance. We got drinks, while Deji circulated, greeting people he knew and getting to meet new people. He was truly the life of the party.

As the night wore on, trays of cakes were passed round. We all helped ourselves generously. After several glasses of vodka mixed with orange juice, I was enjoying myself tremendously and starting to get high. I had been dancing and talking with some guy who introduced himself simply as Joe. When the lights in the expansive room were dimmed further, Joe pulled me to him and started to kiss me. I kissed him back and we began groping at each other’s bodies.

Before then, I had been feeling weird and funny, and spaced out, especially after eating the cakes that had been passed round. In my subconscious, I could sense that something was not quite right about the way I felt, and yet, I felt powerless to the feeling. I was babbling and talking and laughing in illogical sequences without fully knowing what I was saying. When Joe broke our kiss, I became dimly aware of the other partygoers pairing up, and in some cases grouping up in threes, fours and more. Everyone was getting hot and heavy with the other. I slipped in and out of moments of clarity as Joe led me by the hand to an adjoining room; there were other couples and groups in it who were in various stages of undress. We began to disrobe each other while kissing passionately, and all the while, it felt like I was suspended on soft, dreamy white clouds. I vaguely remembered Joe putting his dick in my mouth and I sucked at it hungrily while he held onto my head and pumped away at my mouth.

And then, suddenly, I was flat on my back while he held my legs up high and pumped away like a frenzied beast. His invasion of my buttocks hurt, and yet, I felt too distant to do anything but moan his name in passion. His thrusting seemed to go on for hours, and then, I was vaguely aware that at some point, I looked up and Joe had been replaced by some other guy I didn’t recognize. For the briefest of moments, a flash of panic and confusion raced through my mind, but it was almost immediately replaced by the soft, floating, dreamy sensation. I drifted off once more into bliss, and at the edges of my consciousness, I felt yet another guy take the strange guy’s place.

That renewed thrusting of the second strange guy was the last thing I remembered before darkness took over.

Written by Khaleesee

51 thoughts on “BUNKSIDE FRENZY (Episode 5)

  1. University of abuja sent a car to pick you from the airport? But that’s not my business *sips tea* LOL

    Meanwhile people should be wary of what they eat at parties like this. Cake was prolly drugged with Flunitrazepam

      • Lol. Flunitrazepam is a sedative,also known as Rohypnol,poupularly known as “roofie” or “date-rape drug”. I don’t think it was roofies in d cake though;it was probably weed or SK. Warning: if u’re at a gay party with mostly strangers, and cakes(brownies) magically appear from nowhere,go easy on them(except if u’re already used to weed).I’ve eaten such brownies at a party b4 and I was soooo fucked up,lol.luckily,it was a tame party,with mostly friends so nothing untoward happened.but I’m never touching brownies at any party ever again!

      • Ehen! Pinkpanther,bikozienu,nna,come and continute “sex in d city” nah! I’m literally dying to follow d “maybe,maybe not” courtship dance btwn declan and kizito,pleeeease!that story is giving me life. I am on my “kneels”. *shedding hot tears*

      • Lol. That courtship dance shall remain suspended o. Not to be resolved. How can it be when there are lots of other possible kporos in the dating pool. 🙂

      • No,no,no! I definitely don’t want Declan and Kizito to jump into bed right away(that’s if they ever do sef),but I want to watch d chase.I want to see kizito’s sincere pursuit(gay newbies are always so sweet and dreamy…until dem tear eye,lol) and Declan’s unsure reluctance.like I said b4,it’s like some sort of prolonged and delicious mental foreplay; d kind that makes d eventual sex(if ever) totally mind-blowing.

    • Nice story,but scary too.being drugged and gang-banged by equally drugged-up niggahs who hav no inhibitions…scary! In dat situation,some won’t even remember what a condom is.

    • Thankyou absalom! This story may be fiction but it’s all too familiar. My bet is on Flunitrazepam and not weed, it’s what gives the effect described. Its a psychoactive drug hence it controlled and should be sold only to licensed medical personnel, but the shitty thing about my sector in this country is that anybody can buy it off any pharmacy without even a prescription. Remember that Cynthia Osukogu girl who was killed by her facebook friends? Yep they used Flunitrazepam on her too.
      People get HIV in situations like this. Please protect yourself, if you are in a party like this be very cautious about what you eat. Also drink only drinks that you opened the bottle yourself. When I was in college, my friend was drugged like this and raped by 11 men who then made a video and black mailed him with it. He was from a prominent family so he quickly paid and put it behind him.
      We should all be careful

      • This is chilling. Never been to any gay parties before and not becos of any predisposition not to be in one but becos I haven’t been opportuned. But I always had the opinion that what goes on in them parties is loads of harmless fun, drinks, dance, laughter and random hookups. Certainly not dire outcomes such as this

      • fights, drama,…the list of possible occurrences at such parties is endless. Like Dennis says, NEVER drink or eat anything you didn’t open. Go in a group of friends. You will always have that mother-hen figure in a group, who will always look out for y’all.
        FINALLY, don’t go in high heels. No matter how very much you will be assured security will be guaranteed, be ready to run…lol

      • Well,maybe it is rohypnol,but I think it’s really expensive in naija,and to get enough quantity to host a party would cost an arm and a leg. I know d only drugged brownies I ever ate at a party was SK sha(but then again,maybe Kaduna big bois just ball harder than abj bois,lol)

      • Lol@ trystham: “don’t go in high heels”…u just got me laughing like an idiot at d office.why u gotta do that to me?U’re goin to hell on a bicycle for this,LMAO. True sha,be ready to ditch those red-bottoms,if it looks like u’re about to end up with a “red bottom”.

      • My thoughts exactly! Never been to a gay-party-orgy-whatever and I had high hopes of attending one especially now I just moved to the US. With all these info streaming in about such gatherings I am beginning to have second thoughts.

      • Ace, if you want to attend an orgy and you’re very sure about it, do go ahead…. Just make sure you’re not inebriated in any way and you can think clearly, so that when you’ve had enough, you pick yourself up and head home. #shikena

  2. The story is way too loooooong!
    And the character claims to be top, yet acts and thinks like a slutty whorish bottom.
    And no, I don’t think any university sends bus to pick anyone up in nigeria. That’s totally a janded thingy.
    But nice write up tho. I commend the use of imagination, albeit ridiculously wild! Lol

      • I think what Kendigin is trying to say is that Tobechi might be a, uh, Trans Top…yes.

    • Ok ken,first of all,it’s just fiction on a blog,not a published book,so u really need to calm down. Secondly,are u a bigotted kinda top?u seem to throw some sort of shade at d “other side” more often than not. When a straight man hates women(i.e, can fuck’em but doesn’t respect them) he’s called a misogynist; wen a top feels d same way about bottoms,what do u call that? Anybody?…anyways,just saying o;I’m not trying to fight *sips ribena*

      • @chestnut Rohypnol is the innovator brand which explains the cost. Generic brands of Flunitrazepam are available for a significantly lower cost.
        Well whatever it is that was added, we should all be careful. I don’t eat at house parties, cos even Jollof rice is often cooked with weed (which looks like thyme). I only take drinks that I opened the bottle myself.

  3. Lol Denis its just fiction, but then again its obvious that khaleese (hope I spelt it right – if I didn’t, mbok dont bite my head off… Just had my peruvian fixed yesterday) has spent way too much time abroad, including attending uni. So let’s cut him some slack.

    Great story Khale (hope you don’t mind me shortening your name – am lazy like that mbok)

  4. Ah! It’s gonna hurt in the morning… would I call this a gang bang or gang rape now… *thinking*
    Nice entry! I feel it has evolved from being a bunkside frenzy though…

  5. Is it just me or d writer. First of all, Deji live on a different floor from u but in d same hostel block. Next thing I notice is dat Deji lives off campus in a flat? Get ur story n line of thinking right man! Anyways, good one n sorry abt Wat happened to u.

    • Yesssss!!! Olima, you caught me out on that!! I deeply apologise to all my readers, i got busy for some weeks and by the time i got back to writing this piece, my train of though got muddled up. I was hoping no one would notice cos i noticed the mix-up, only after this had gone to e-press. Once again, my dear KitoDiarieians, i am deeply sorry, please accept complimenatry vouchers for one free blow job or 15minutes hard dicking by an 11-inch cock (whichever you prefer *wink wink*) valid for 72hrs … hehehehe …

      • Thank you oooo, Keredim tell them biko … they want to roast me over an open fire for poshing up UniAbuja a lil bit to international standards.

  6. Hmmmm. UniAbuja will be worth visiting. At some point I didn’t know whether to think he is top or bottom or even verse sef. The world is already confusing as it is to add this headache. I am VERY scared and worried about what happens to this bro.

  7. Sometimes,I imagined myself being rammed in by sweaty men in such a party..but in reality tht shit hurts like hell…nicely written,..he should take HIV prophylaxis within 72hrs. As a tough Nigerian am sure he’ll survive without some shrinks poking into his brains..for the probable tears he would have sustained in the ass,warm bath and massage and vitamins.

  8. Like seriously,I’m loving this story. I’ve never been to a gay party although I’ve received invites to attend. There’s more to it than just attending. You’ve gat to be very careful with what u eat or drink and more especially I advice you attend such parties with a pack of condoms. Cos u never can tell what might come up.

    • Besides being worried to death who will spring kito on unsuspecting party attendees, not much will come up jare. Besides, there is ALWAYS someone from these Queer Alliance affliates or personal crusade who gives out complimentary condoms AND packaged lubrication for everyone’s protection. There is NO excuse for unprotected sex at parties. Its always Gold Circle, but isn’t that better than no condom. So therefore, go for the NEXT party u r invited to.

  9. This is most likely Rohypnol… And to say this was called Bunkside Frenzy, Mehn! Shiii just got real!
    Please do not eat anything too attractive in parties. I haven’t been to a gay party before but my ‘str8’ friends throw these kinda parties all the time.
    Weed in cocktail.
    Weed in cake.
    Codeine in Juice.
    Poppers all over.
    And all sorts of designer drugs.
    I seem to forget as well that this is fiction. I almost cried for that poor nucca. Anyway, remember almost any mature, 18+ only party can end up like this, so keep your mind where your mouth is!

  10. Nice write up. The end brought chills to my spine… and Lil ol’ me has been dreaming if attending a gay party.. well at least I know to bring my own snacks and a wine cooler…

    I got high on weed once… not sure why anybody would want to do that to themselves over and over again.

    • Quit being such a bigot, my friend. Don’t you see the comments are like so becos of the nature of the story? What did you expect commenters to be talking about, gay politics? All these intellectual bigots sef, Pinkie is always updating serious, contemplative posts. And then once there’s a sex story, they will trot their self righteous asses out and start talking crap about how we make it all about sex. Well, guess what, dummy. A huge factor of the gay life is about sex. I know it. You know it. So stop whining and remain as anonymous as your name suggests.

    • Oh please it’s not the only thing but you can’t deny it’s not one of the major things.

      What do you think you get when you put a bunch of testosterone driven guys that are attracted to each other? Talks about love and commitment???

  11. *cross legs and sip tea*Nice story khaleesee. And aunty pinky e b like say na to relocate to abj nd kaduna ooooo. *packs travelling bag* who’s in with me??? (Its been long since hve been n here missed u guys)

  12. I look forward to reading the entire series, from the beginning.

    I enjoyed the detail, the passages relating to intimacy (non-sexual intimacy, that is), and also enjoyed indulging in a bit of fantasy from reading this.

    Thank you, Khaleesee and kitodiaries.

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