by Mya Havens
In a moment, Solomon shed copious tears having been taken for a ride by Amina.
“I thought I had found the love of my life, yet it has turned out to be the betrayal of my small life,” Solomon lamented. My dad never affirmed or treasured me. He was an alcoholic. He was a master of pornography and he finally divorced my mother. I saw the pain in my mother as she left Dad and our family disintegrated. Tears of hard work coursed down the gullies of my mother’s face. And with time, I hatched a formula that would make me accepted by my fellow males and find the affirmation and acceptance that I had so much envisioned but never received from my father.” Solomon recalled.
“I recall the time I started going to school. I was bright and bubbly — but I was never attracted to girls while in school. Class three north was full of ‘beauties’ but I preferred Paul to Faith. Faith, who was mad with me in our ignorance but armed with the human instincts of love, would never forgive me for scorning her. She would shrug at my indifference even after I took her through the paces of algebra that looked like hard stones to her,” Solomon remembered as he waited for the return of Amina.
A knock at the door brought Solomon back from the confusion that had engulfed him. He was in a state of absorption, a state of denial, a state of financial deprivation. It was a lamentable engagement with Amina.
“Come in…come in…come in!” Solomon woke up from the world where betrayal had taken him.
“I am sorry Solomon my love. I took a lot of time in the mall. It was difficult to find soya milk and spaghetti my love. Just relax and be happy. I will make you the best dinner to that will get to your soul. It will be a sumptuous meal.” Solomon, who referred to Amina as “Honey” stayed put like a bag of salmon. He was not only lost for words he was lost in his thoughts.
“You can hide, run, run, hide and run Amina, but the hour of reckoning is never too far from crooks who disguise as saints. Amina, you are a daughter of the devil. You have taken me through sub-highways, tunnels, parks and highways but when the end beckons, even the smartest are left bewildered, perplexed and confused.” Solomon was frothing in the mouth. He was furious like lightning that streaks the sky in untold wrath.
“In an attempt to kiss Solomon’s light-hot cheek, Solomon pushed her away. He lifted Amina’s Samsung phone and as he showed her the message, Amina collapsed on the seat in a heap. The hunter had been fixed by a text message. She was living in borrowed time. She looked like a dinosaur of a dead age. Her beautiful lips and glittering eyes told of a different story. She heaved in an arrogant display of anger and betrayal. It was betrayal from a phone.
“Just pick whatever belongs to you here before I call Maricopa hotel’s security. It’s over Amina and never again will I look at a woman. It’s over…it’s over with the battle of the sexes. You are evil and seductive. You have beguiled me but the writing has been written on your mobile phone and it’s over Amina.” Solomon oversaw her pack and leave.
And in a reflection of what had happened, Solomon reflected back to where Amina had taken her in her two-year craftiness.
In hushed up anger, Solomon recalled the past. In recalling the past, Solomon had found safety at this moment of betrayal. “It was during a sleepover at Paul’s house that I was introduced to sexual play. I recall that it was sex that involved oral sex and streaking. It was an act that robbed me of my childhood innocence; it had involuntarily awakened me into a world of sense and sexual encounters.”
Solomon became hooked to images of nude males and attempted sexual adventures with different boys. Solomon grew older and found acceptance and passion among men. “What do men look for in women that are not in men?” Solomon looked bemused one day after making love with a man. “I feel good, I love men’s assholes, and I have managed to overcome the emptiness and unevenness that I was feeling before. And with time I will became a sexual addict.” Solomon felt this feeling in his inside. And true to his word, Solomon’s quickly became a sexual addict.
“But am I to blame for not choosing men as my sexual partners? I would have been kind to them but Amina now joins Viola who scorned me earlier. She refused to accompany me to south coast. It was after a time of back and forth with sweet melodies that never culminated in sex. She betrayed my teenage and put a nail into my rough affair.” Solomon was one emotional mess at this time. He was talking to himself at this time.
“Viola killed my love for women. I felt different and wasted for the date just remained a date on the year’s calendar. I recall trying to find my love life back with women and I hooked a woman of the street in my sexual come back — it was meant to be a sexually charged one-night stand. But every time I come to think of it, I cringe in fear and defeat. My dick, like a flapping eagle went limp and the woman became angry with me. She said that I was fucking her like a silly goat when I attempted to convince her that I was not impotent. And for all my attempted sexual comeback embarrassments, I parted with five hundred shillings.” Solomon remembered the loss.
“My mother and her friend’s concerted efforts to get a wife for me fell on a gay man. I had, from real and untold forces, made up my mind. It did not matter again if the mind had already been made elsewhere and the delivery of a young, gay man made.” Solomon recollected.
“But when I got a job as a manager at Maricopa hotel, my immunity on gays was broken by the horde of girls who came in droves to patronize the hotel. I would have sex with them and with time, the gay spirit started to die off and the prospects of getting married became real. But at times, I would wallow in my old self of gays. I would carry on craving for male intimacy and going through gripping same-sex attractions. It was a force that would wear me out after having sex with a woman. I would desire intimacy with a man but there was no man around to understand me. I would end up masturbating and hope that one day a man would come around to usher me into full blown and explicit homosexual engagements. But with Amina around, I was like a caged animal with little space for exploitation of my cherished plan B. And with the betrayal by Amina, I concluded amidst this mess that I was designed as a homosexual.
Having experienced homosexual acts before and with Amina gone, Solomon now struggled in the inside with intense homosexual urges. “I needed a solution to my craving for a man. It would be a desire that can only be managed through sensual satisfaction. When I thought of this desire, I felt insecure like it was when I was in school. My tendencies toward having sex with a man intensified and I yearned for one but I never knew where to get him.” Solomon remembered.
Chapter 7 – Boys To Men
Sizonge Fundikira kept to himself. He hated life, women and Indimuli his mentor into the world of raw sex. He still would visit the massage parlor and satisfy his desire for sex. And on this particular day, he observed something strange from his vantage spot. The masseuse was not there but two well-toned men looked as if they would wrestle till eternity. These black men would massage each other with unstrained mightiness.
Then these two men who had not spoken by this time spoke in forbidding voices. The light-skinned, well-toned black man spoke. “I love black men with big bodies and large cocks. They are articulate, strong and the sizes of their cocks are like torpedoes which make them special, real and satisfying. The sizes of their dicks are legendary.”
“But you are not done until you sample their masculinity and their wiry-haired bodies. When in bed with such lions, you will get to sample their underarms, bellies, butt cracks, pubic region and chests. It is a whole new experience; they give you a ride in the nether regions and leave your mouth open from the thrust that comes in sporadic and intermittent doses. Its creamy, it is hot, its mad sex that no man and woman in bed can envision. The black men’s cocks are explosive devices that are set off in another man’s well to create a completeness that verges on magic.” The light-skinned man responded.
“Wow, how did you get to all know this info dude?” The black-tinged man asked.
“I was watching a movie where a white guy was slogging it out with a b
lack dude in a fuck club. The white man was a machine, his torpedo got up like a dinosaur ready to gobble his male sex counterpart. I liked him, I envied his masculinity. He got hold of his male and he put his dick into his asshole like a wild horse. He would stroke the guy until the man nearly passed out. The fuck club members were in awe, lost in the thrill of the action. I got stirred up, got horned up and vowed to get a man for the night. But before I was lost in the maze of this white machine, the black man was called for his turn. He had come from an all-black club that was perched somewhere in the countryside. I had visited the club and there was nothing complex about this club. It was a lone club that was housed in a building which was made of wood with a parking that told of great activity. The members were from the well-to-do and other affiliated members of this city. And during the fucking sessions, one could not tell from the outside what was hidden by tinted windows and missing exterior lights. This is where this black dude had come from. He looked around and got hold of his mate for the night. Then he spoke some words and before long, he dipped his torpedo into the asshole of his mate. The man yelled and rolled like a lizard. He foamed in the mouth, shrieked, yelled and asked to be released but the dude would not let go until the security men of this club came to his rescue.” The light-skinned man said.
“That marked the end of my toying with black men in a sexual encounter.” The man vowed as he was taken for first aid.
The black man looked unperturbed and walked to the bar for vodka. He left everyman in awe, fear and reverence. He never waited for his award but waved after a beer and drove away a hero. After the man who had been worked on by the black dude resuscitated, he came back and the patrons bought him some brandy and some flavored gin to atone for the experience in the black man’s school of hard sex.
“There are men and boys-to-men. That was an act of a muscled and well exercised man.” The black-tinged man spoke as a man would in the finality of a duel.
Sizonge Fundikira could not contain this graphic illustration as he watched these dudes massage each other. He liked their bodies that would glitter like diamonds when light in the parlor would marry with their bodies to reflect.
In a twinkling of an eye, the two men went into action. The black-tinged man pulled the massage table to the center of the room while watching the light-skinned well-toned man with a suggestive gaze. It was a declarative leer. The light-skinned man stood beside the black one. They came close, closer and closer to stimulate each other. But they took each a glass of what looked like a mixture that would spice their nerves and push them into action. These men were driven by sex power and preoccupied themselves by displaying real desires.
The black-tinged man let his hairy arm brush against the light-skinned man to the shock of Sizonge Fundikira.
“I will not be here for long man and so move first man. I ain't got much time, man. I have some work to do before the night falls.” The black-tinged man told his friend.
“It’s okay sweetheart,” the light-skinned man said.
“So, let’s get into action,” light-skinned man said while draping his arm around the black-tinged dude.
These two men held each other with the light-skinned man’s holding the black dude around his waist. Sizonge Fundikira appeared shocked, with his eyes wide-open.
These two men had removed their underwear. The black-tinged man heaved as the light-skinned man set his asshole for the dude. It was what the black man wanted and his torpedo hung half way to his knees, a big, thick, chiseled, circumcised head.
The trousers were held in one hand. The black-tinged man reached, grasped his cock and felt its circumference.
“Yes, this is what the light-skinned man wanted, as his hand felt the black man’s hairy ball sack and the big nuts in his wrinkly pouch. His cock slit was leaking with slimy pre-cum already. The light-skinned man stroked the black shaft milking its pre-juice. The light-skinned man smeared it over his knob and down his veined stalk. He spread his legs, taking a wider stance.
“Unh huh unh,” the black man cleared his throat. “What do you want from me?” he asked.
The light-skinned man said explicitly, “I want you to kiss, lick and suck my nipples. I want you to lick my belly. I want your tongue to lick my navel. Please kiss, lick and suck my big cock. I want your balls in my mouth. I want you to fuck me with your cum in my mouth.”
Sizonge Fundikira couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It verged on what obtains in the undiscovered world. “I think I love the chemistry between these two men. I feel like I am watching men on their way to the land of sweet dreams. I cannot tell...I cannot imagine…I am now imagining. I have to come to terms with this creation by man to satisfy their sexual desires. I think I read it somewhere that men from Congo are masters at it.” Sizonge was now mumbling his unbelief as the men kept on turning and talking.
“You cannot do this in the open, and that is why we come here in the name of massage,” the black man said as he heaved. The light-skinned man kept on sliding the black man’s pole up and down, and it continued to stiffen like a boomerang ready to strike. The torpedo started to release juice as it continued to stiffen and glisten in the light of this massage parlor.
The black-tinged man’s cock no longer dangled. It stuck upright like an electric pole; the balls hang like bulbs. He lay beside the light-skinned man. The cock of the black man pressed against the side of the light-skinned man’s leg.
At this point, Sizonge’s mouth opened wide like a cave and his cock stood in his trousers. “I like it…I think I like it… it’s so real, it’s so refreshing,” he had himself saying in a muffled voice.
The black-tinged — or Blackie — man, put an arm over the light-skinned man or Lightie. Blackie lifted both his legs over Lightie’s. Blackie shifted his wet cock to the top of Lightie’s leg. Blackie brushed against Lightie’s hard and wet pre-cum torpedo.
Blackie leaned over and kissed Lightie on the cheek. And like an explorer, he searched for Lightie’s mouth. Lightie kissed Blackie on the lips like two young lovers. Blackie became obsessed at this point in time. He put his tongue inside Lightie’s mouth while Lightie reciprocated by giving Blackie his tongue to chew. Blackie grasped Lightie’s cock and stroked tenderly like a baby. Lightie also paid in kind by stroking Blackie’s dick that stood on end. The stroking went on for about ten minutes between these two love dudes.
“Wow, I am lost for words. I have no business with Maryanne again. To hell with Maryanne...to wherever with Maryanne… I need a man… I need a man…. I need a man. It looks so sweet. It is real and satisfying,” Sizonge was now loud enough to his ears.
Chapter 8 – Power Bomb
Blackie nuzzled Lightie’s neck with his mouth like a lover on a mission and fondled Lightie’s nuts — an action that was interspersed with fondling and stroking. The cycle of kissing, fondling, stroking, fondling nuts, and nuzzling necks was like a see-saw. Lightie’s imagination before this mind-boggling action was that Blackie was only going to fuck Lightie’s asshole and mouth. But with the agility of a male black man, Blackie had transformed it into a love-making episode decked with hot, sweet, artistic, tingly, and soul-shattering twisting love.
“How can I convince Solomon that there exists lemonade out of lemons? How can I convince Solomon that there is more than Amina in sexual life? Amina looked beautiful but was as expensive as a Ferrari. How…how…how can it be for good measure’s sake?” Sizonge was lost for a conviction. He visualized how it would be when Solomon bought his idea of man-to-man sexual face-off that overshadowed any sexual intimacy with a woman. At this point in time, he looked at the men’s dicks and desired part of an action from them. He had no answer but hang on to hope that a man would appear from wherever and complete his burning sexual desire like Blackie and Lightie.
Blackie was like a charged man, he kissed Lightie’s left nipple. He licked it again like a hungry baby demanding milk from its mother’s breast. Lightie shrilled in orgasmic emotions which made Blackie to suck the right
nipple then left and then right. And like an enchanted maniac, he licked the left and the right one, sending Lightie into a world of the unknown. It was a wild, wild and unearthly fairytale. It was like some trick of the moonlight; it was like some wonder effect of a shadow. Up and down, back and forth, right and left… the action went between Blackie and Lightie.
Sizonge, unbeknown to him had put on the camera of his Huawei Y550 phone. He did not have any idea that the video camera had been recording the enchanting, smooth and sweet sex — the long and short of it all.
“My goodness me, I have something for Solomon. I have something for Solomon,” he said in the midst of the action. “It is evidence that I will not be making my story.” Solomon said in excitement as he set the camera at the center of the action.
Blackie was like a conveyor belt in a diamond mine. Business never ceases until the gems are unearthed. Blackie kissed, licked down Lightie’s chest all the way to the stomach. Blackie stroked Lightie while Lightie stroked Blackie in return. To curtail monotony, Blackie stroked Lightie and in a flash squeezed Lightie’s wet nipple. He rolled it between his forefinger and thick thumb and the process was repeated forthwith. Blackie tongued Lightie’s navel and by this time Lightie was breathing hard like an athlete in high gear. Lightie was now hunching forward, up and down, trembling and gasping for any uncommitted air in this parlor of Maricopa.
