6a00d8345a66bf69e200e54f7f220f8834-800wiLast year was my debut year. I had discovered (not accepted) my sexuality three years earlier. But, the honey pot was opened last year.


So, about two years ago, 2go was the reigning thing. If you hadn’t opened an account, you were dulling. Forget BBM. 2go was the favorite hookup site for many, from sex freaks to kitos (then). The Men’s Lounge was my favorite enclave. I came to know the actual meanings of some gay terms: TB – Top/Bottom. Kito – Set ups. (To be honest, what I always had in mind about the meaning of that one was a pair of stylish sandals.) And I also got to meet a few people from the site face-to-face; most of them unattractive, some others egocentric.

And then, there was the opener of the honey pot – the first love.

Let’s call him Kel. He’s about my age. Too cute, bitchy too. After chatting for a few days, we decided to meet. His place isn’t far at all (which I liked). Aish! I hate long distance visitations.

So, on that fateful day, I dressed way too casual, wasn’t feeling too sexy that day. As I made the trip to his place, we communicated through Whatsapp. Fifteen minutes later, I was at his bus-stop. No traffic. That’s one major reason to hate long distance visitations. Traffic! Lagos traffic can be disconcerting ehn. Kai.

Ok, so there I was, standing at his bus-stop (I hate), looking around to see if he was there. I waited, I waited. And just when I was about to lose it, he emerged. Chai. So fine, same height with me, inviting lips, mesmerizing almond-shaped brown eyes that seemed to say, “Ah, Kizito, welcome to the gayborhood.” Continue reading


Blog_Love And Sex In The City“Who is Paschal smashing so vigorously like that abeg?” Ekene said with a giggle as he moved from the kitchen, through the connecting doorway, into the living room, where the rest of us were sprawled in various positions of relaxation on Biola’s carpeted floor and sofas. Muted coital sounds were floating out to us through the small corridor, from the guestroom at the end of the hallway.

“As in eh,” Adebola exclaimed, coming up behind Ekene. The two of them came bearing items of food we’d be having for brunch. “Since we came here, they’ve been cooped up inside there. Abeg, Biola, since when did your house turn into a brothel?”

“My dear, I have no idea o,” Biola said, as he stood before the television and flicked through DSTV stations. “Dude came to me yesterday evening with his squeeze, some young thing he invited from UniBen, and begged me to let the boy crash here for the night.”

“And you agreed?” I said with a mock-gasp. “Since when did you start becoming so charitable?” It is an understanding amongst us that Biola is just not the type of friend that will discommode himself over someone else’s convenience. He’s just not wired to be a Good Samaritan. Continue reading