HIS KITO STORY (EDITION 16)

Young man with tear rolling down cheek, portrait, close-up

It was a boring afternoon at the office. With no other alternative to keep my mind busy, I logged onto 2go, an app I hadn’t used in ages. I wanted to see if I could reconnect with some old friends and perhaps make new friends. I logged in and found none of my friends online. I navigated to the gay room. I sifted through the various chats and profiles present in there, before happening on a dude named Richard. It wasn’t long before we started getting acquainted.

Richard was thirty-two, a cute bottom, a graduate of the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, and worked with a company in Asaba, where he also lived with his wife who was then pregnant – at least that’s what he told me. In the following weeks, we chatted and talked on the phone more and more, and I felt drawn to him. I began to fancy him a friend.

About a month after we met, he extended an invitation to me to visit him in Asaba. He sounded so genuine and was persuasive, but for one odd reason or the other, I kept postponing my trip to Asaba. A part of me wished he would grow weary of inviting me and perhaps withdraw or abandon his repeated invitations. Continue reading

HIS KITO STORY (EDITION 15)

Young man with tear rolling down cheek, portrait, close-up

My name is Noah. I have always been a man of caution, threading carefully wherever I go, keeping my professional life separate from my personal life. I have being visiting Nigeria at least once or twice a year for work since the early 1980s. And in the course of my trips, I have amassed a handful of friends and acquaintances, both for business and pleasure. And both my business engagements and pleasure trysts had never given me any cause for concern, worry or disconcertion.

That is, until a trip I made to Nigeria in 2013.

I am a forty-nine-year-old bisexual British man, married with a lovely wife and son. Whenever I am back at home in the UK, I focus all my time and energy on my family. However when I am away for work, I try to indulge in a bit of fun with guys.

So it was on a trip to Lagos, I logged on to my gayromeo account and set my location to Lagos; that way I would be able to arrange a meet with a guy in my hotel when I was free.

And I did meet someone. Continue reading

HIS KITO STORY (EDITION 14)

200019237-001WRITER’S NOTE: My name is Teflondon. I have been reading Kito Diaries since last year, but never thought to contribute until now. And I must admit, I have been more than impressed by the work done here daily, from the articles posted to the comments and different opinions expressed. Before I start my story, let me follow a few protocols of ass kissing and butt licking. I want to appreciate Pink Panther first of all for bringing all this together, for making such a platform where learned LGBT can interact. I am not by any means an awesome writer, maybe average at best. And I am amazed at the brilliant minds of everyone that writes on this blog. I can’t write fiction because my mind is not as imaginative as the lot who do so. However, the story I have to share is real. Here goes.

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This happened a few years back. And I remember it all, because the turn of events changed my life forever.

I was listening to my James Blunt album on my iPod, seated outside my (father’s) house. There was no light and my dad was not home, as he always isn’t. I was very broke, and so had no money to buy fuel for the generator. I was also bored. And as any spoilt twenty-one-year-old fresh graduate of a prestigious private school would do when he is bored, I put a phone call through to a friend, Tolu. Tolu was my supplier of hunks, and I was looking for him to hook me up. Continue reading

LOVE AND SEX IN THE CITY (Episode 26)

Blog_Love And Sex In The City 02FOREWORD: Just a quick one, guys; if you’re on BBM, do kindly join the Kito Diaries BBM Channel. The pin is C00250513. Or you may scan the barcode below. Thanks. 🙂BBM Channel_KD

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Lagos on a Sunday morning was what I suspected other cities, sleepier metropolises, would be on a bustling day. There wasn’t the usual crush of pedestrians plying the sidewalks, and the roads weren’t encumbered with motorists impatient to get to their destinations and yet unable to make good on their haste. There were not a lot of passengers waiting at the bus stops, and as such, the minimal number of commercial buses in the traffic hurtled down the roads, only pausing for very brief stops.

The bus conveying me soon got to Oshodi, and the passengers alighted, some of them staying put when the conductor began yodeling, “Cele-Ilasa-Mile Toooo! Cele-Ilasa-Mile Toooo!”

I was headed for Mile Two, but I had had enough of the rickety heap the driver, himself as aged as his vehicle, was powering. In spite of the day, Oshodi was quite astir with activity, unwilling to succumb to the unhurriedness of Sunday, like a young mother reluctant to let go of her only child on his first play-date. The area didn’t have its characteristic horde of people and traffic, but there was still enough chaos and the day was warm enough to make me wish I was spending the day back home, in the comfort of my bedroom.

I soon located and got into another bus, a newer-looking vehicle with a younger man behind the wheel. Both driver and conductor were puffy-eyed, coarse-voiced and in good spirits, as though still riding the high from a very good last night.

Where are you now? Jaja pinged me the moment I got settled inside the bus. Continue reading

HIS KITO STORY (EDITION 13)

bigstock-happy-black-man-4158483Writer’s Note: There will be pauses in between the narration of this story, to analyze the things that got me suspicious.

It was a throbbing Thursday, and I just had to hold something that throbs, anything actually. My not-so-real name is Adrian anyway, and Christopher was my throbbing Thursday rendezvous.

Let’s go back to like few months before throbbing Thursday. Christopher and I had been chatting on Facebook for quite a while. I’d had my eyes on him for quite a while on the social media, but I didn’t know how to get him to look my way.

Then his father died! Yay, this was my chance. Okay, I didn’t mean to take advantage of a man’s death, but the heart wants what it wants. Mine wanted Christopher. Did I mention Christopher is over 6ft tall, light in complexion, well built, and when I say well built, I don’t mean the steroid-induced-well-built, I mean the evidence-of-good-workout-well-built. He always reminded me of a sculpture of a Greek god.

On the day his father died, he posted the info on Facebook. I promptly chatted him up. He responded. Before then, he had the habit of forming Mister Busy for me. Luckily for me, he had my time that day. I offered my condolences and I asked his permission to write a piece in honour of his father. He gave me the go-ahead. I put pen to paper and came up with something real, not too many smart words, and he loved it. He posted it on Facebook, and it got a lot of positive comments. We started chatting a lot more than before, and I was like, Mission accomplished. Continue reading

The Unintentional Kito Story

EmbarrassmentIt was a few weeks to the end of the second semester. Everyone and everything was in a frenzy of activity. Everything was on fire brigade mode; from students rushing to tidy up loose ends on their final year projects to indolent lecturers who suddenly awakened from their long deep slumber to realize that they were far from covering all their topics and therefore resorted to scheduling insane hours of extra lectures at all kinds of insane hours of the day. The frenetic and breathless pace of everything on campus was so palpable you could just reach out and touch the tension with your bare hands.

And so it was one Thursday afternoon, the chapel service had just been concluded, and the crowd began to disperse in small groups and cliques. I, together with my classmates in the Management and Science department, were headed towards an empty class which I had earlier chosen on the instructions of our lecturer. We were scheduled to have a few hours of extra classes in a bid to cover the semester’s scheme of work for Communication Skills II. I was halfway there when I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten to carry my notebook along with me to the chapel. I turned and made a quick dash towards the hostel to pick up the notebook, leaving my roomie who I was earlier walking and chatting with. Continue reading

Dear KD: We Need A Solution to This Kito Story

blackmentalkingThe story is not one you aren’t familiar with. A recent acquaintance of mine in school was recently invited by a fellow who we all know is queer. When my acquaintance arrived at his place, about seven guys fell on him. They flogged him with a rod which gave him lots of bruises, and they took his Blackberry phone and ATM card, promptly emptying his account of the 32k in it, leaving only the ledger balance of 1k. Thankfully, he hadn’t gone on the visit with his other more expensive phone. He was videotaped naked and forced to confess to being gay, as well as naming other gay people in the school. He was asked to bring 180k before Friday otherwise the video will be released.

This all happened on Saturday night.

We need suggestions on how best to solve this problem, hopefully with whatever shred of dignity my friend has left intact.

Submitted by Anonymous

HIS KITO STORY (EDITION 12)

200019237-001My kito story is not quite the kito story.

I’m Ade, 22 and I have been and known I was gay for all my life. You know that kind of gayness that’s hard to miss and can be spotted from 100 miles away? I was once nominated as the “mother general” of the student hostel where I live (story for another day).

After I finished Secondary school a few years ago, I decided to move to Abuja. I had heard so much about that city, how it flowed with milk and honey, how there were lots and lots of ‘generous’ and rich gays, and how there was an abundance of good sex to be had. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind that if I managed to move to Abuja, it would only be a matter of time before I snagged my own rich, loving sugar daddy. I was emboldened by the story of my role model, Madonna, who hitchhiked her way to New York City with just $20 and is today a globally famous star.

Itching to recreate my own story of the rise to stardom, I left my lovely Osun State and moved in with an aunt who lived in one of the slums on the outskirts of Abuja. It was a squalid and depressing place, a universe away from the bright glittering mansion dripping with opulence that I yearned and craved for. But I never once let the ghetto depress me or kill my dreams; I was sure that this was only a temporary phase and soon, I would land exactly where I wished to be – in the arms of someone rich and loving, who would take care of me, and who I would love and give myself to totally.

I held on to that dream for two years. Continue reading

Not Just Another Kito Story

PicturesHi.

Came the message on WhatsApp. From a number whose contact I didn’t own.

Na so you dey forget person, abi?

That followed after.

I ignored the chat till I was settled for the day with clients whose projects I was in charge of. I responded later at 2pm with a curt ‘If you were important, I’d have remembered you.’ That was meant to discourage any more response.

It didn’t. He replied with, ‘C’mon, you don’t forget a dick like mine so soon, especially since you didn’t get to take it beyond oral.’

I laughed disdainfully, at this fool, and delayed responding until I got home. And then, I told him to take his hope of a dick which wasn’t memorable in the first place and shove it in a keyhole. I just wasn’t feeling the guy.

Two weeks later, he said hi again. This time, he followed it with. ‘Remember when you sucked me and didn’t lemme fuck you?’  Continue reading

HIS KITO STORY (EDITION 11)

200019237-001I was about nineteen when we first met. His name is Sydney. I had just started my pre-degree program at the time in my current school. I was new to the place and wanted to meet new people. 2go Men’s Lounge was my next port of call. His username had something like ‘frenzy’ in it, and I remember thinking to myself, maybe we’d get to have frenzied sex if I liked him enough. We chatted a while, exchanged pics and then he called saying he’d like to meet. I was more than happy to oblige. I told him I was in class at the time and would see him on my way home. After lectures, I called him and got directions to where he wanted to meet and was glad that it was a public place – a guestroom-cum-whorehouse close to school. I got there and was having a drink when he came. We exchanged greetings. He sat down for a bit. There was a bit of a lull, that kind you get when two people who haven’t decided how to relate with each other meet for the first time.

Then, he stood up and said he forgot his keys and was going to get them. I was stunned. What a lame excuse. Forgot the keys where exactly, when he was just coming from his room? I was at the time quite chubby, and I understood that not everyone was into that. But heck, I had sent him a couple of pictures, and if he was not Blind Bartimeus, he should have been able to tell. I told curtly him to go and got up to leave too, I was really pissed. Later that night, I gave him a well-deserved piece of my mind for being such a time-waster. He deleted me from his contact list after that. Continue reading