Monday, April 18, 2016

Do Gays and Macho Men Get Along?



Can gays and macho men mix? Does water and parafin mix?

These are just some of the biggest questions that can only really be explained more practically, with mostly a standard response. While I'm tempted to say no, of course referring to the former, the answer lies in quite a few scenarios.

There's this certain guy I follow on Social Media who happens to be a well known Journalist. He's pretty likeable and we may be almost compatible, professionally and intellectually speaking that is, but for one reason or another, all the times we've met, and all chatted on the online-scape, we've never really 'gelled'.

This journalist is not threateningly attractive, so there's nothing short circuiting me when I'm anywhere near him, but he's definitely macho - the kind of guys who are everyone's friend at the bar, over a game of rugby or Formula One. He's the type that still draws the line over hugging another guy or even sitting with your thighs too close.

Now don't get me wrong - I'm not at all effeminate, though admittedly we all have our moments when we subconsciously become 'gay-er'. I'm your classic case mister discreet who transitioned from buying black ice to drinking Heineken or Carlsberg, and loving it. I happen to enjoy watching Football, to the detriment of my closest friend, so on the surface I really would 'gel' with the macho men... yeah?

Honestly, I usually feel kind of uncomfortable when I'm around extremely straight men - a squirmish discomfort at the possibility that one of them may notice a wrong gesture, record something and you come out the pink elephant of the crew or hear a miscalculated slightly pitchy tone to my voice.

Then my gay friends always have the notion that men who come across as extremely homophobic, or sometimes the macho men of the group, tend to either be in the closet, or more receptive towards advances from same sex quarters. It's all a facade then, right?

Am I the only one who has such fears? Surely not!

With the amount of pretense I have to go through, around the crew, around my folks or at work, in order to keep things under wrap, you'd think I was paid for discretion! How long will I be able to keep this up?

Monday, March 28, 2016

COCKTAILS & CHARM IN NAIROBI, WITH LOVE (Part III)



In our previous episode, Max and his friends decided to paint the town red by going to Club Shilling, a hot new joint in Nairobi that doubles up as a strip joint, where he bumped into the most unexpected of people, DJ Imani, making what was initially perceived as an unseeming connection.

***

Max' heart was pacing and if his skin were translucent, you'd be able to see a bright glow of red not just on his cheeks, but running down his throat to the center of the depths below. There's no way that hunk just winked at me.

As if to reaffirm that it really did happen, he shyly looked back in the general direction of the DJ booth and dancefloor, not towards the gyrating derrieres of the mixed gender performers, as was mostly everyone else in the club, but at the disc jockey. As if on queue, their eyes locked again and Imani revealed his perfect denture, raised his thumb up and winked again.

And boy didn't that wrap it up for his gaydar. By this time the rather gossipy Mwendo had spotted how entranced Max was and leaned into him, whispering, 'Which kuchu is that who's got your saliva dripping all over the floor, honey.'

'What...' he snapped out of the daze he'd unknowingly slipped into. Even over the loud music he heard Mwendo's question as clear as crystal. He raised his hand and leaned over back to him and firmly said,

'First of all, what did we say about using the offensive term? Secondly, relax you're pretty little head. This juice will be given later when I don't feel like any wrong move will rip my vocals apart.'

Mwendo gave a 'meow' gesture and went back to sipping on his Long Island Iced Tea as Max gave a knowing smile.

The crowd was really revved up, and the two men on stage ripped off their t-shirts, revealing deliciously shaped and crafted torsos. The darker of the two was slightly more chiselled, a spectacle that made Jeremy lick his lips and make it his sole intention to grab the dancer's attention. He had that tendency of identifying 'straight' men and picking them up wherever he could.

Jeremy's point of view -

It seems Max is gonna get some action tonight, I might as well sink my claws into this juicy stud. Jeremy was fixated on the darker of the male dancers, as his gaze shifted away from the exchange he'd witnessed between his best friend and the cute DJ.

Jeremy considered himself never the initiator of any sort of pursuit - he liked to play along and tease the objects of his attention but never be the one to go ahead and make the first move. On rare occasion, however, and especially when under the influence of alcohol, he let his inhibitions loose and would do almost anything to get the guy he wanted.

He had a slightly lighter complexion than most, wore clear contact lenses because he claimed spectacles hid the beauty of his eyes from the world, and the scruffy goatee he possessed made him quite an eligible single guy. Never mind his narcissistic tendencies of using and over-using Snapchat and Instagram, or the fact that he loved to flirt. Deep down he was just another really nice guy who was extremely hurt by a player in the past, and let's just say he learned his lesson well and guarded his heart with his life. Why was it that the world tended to often try and transform such nice guys into something else?

The male stripper spread his legs wide as his strong biceps propelled his lower body up and over his head, against the stripper pole, propelling him higher towards the rooftop of the club as everyone marvelled at the show and the acrobatics. If this was proof of any sexual prowess, he'd definitely want to find out.

Jeremy caught the eye of the chiseled dancer again, well they were both chiseled, but this darker one was very special, as he came back down to earth from the heavens above. There was definitely a wry smile on his part as he took in the vision before him as well. He instinctively licked his lips and glanced away at some ladies who were seated to the left of Jeremy and his company, lest anyone caught on that he'd identified a guy.

Maina was his name, a 25 year old who hailed from the Central Kenya highlands and left his parents and sister behind for the big and scary city, to pursue his dreams of a modelling career, but surprisingly ended up at such a dance club, in order to make ends meet and take himself through school at the International University in Nairobi. Add the fact that he liked boys, to his already complicated life.

There was no way Maina was going to risk a public spectacle in the middle of his routine in order to get this cute guy's number, so he would just have to let fate decide. He finished the number as DJ Imani closed their segment with a familiar tune, with the lights fading out into a blue haze as his fellow dancer and he exited the stage to resounding cat calls and whistles from the ladies in the crowd.

About forty five minutes after, the four friends were on the dance floor shaking along to Sauti Sol's 'Shake Your Bam Bam' with Mwendo being his rather risque self. Mercy was thoroughly enjoying herself, quite comfortable hanging out with guys who had no sexually ulterior motives other than having a good time but both Max and Jeremy were often cautious that Mwendo wouldn't out them. He had a chunkier build than the both of them, with a large ass that drew a lot of attention from both quarters, and his effeminate mannerisms did give them a few blushes here and there.

'I'll be right back. Take over wwatching our stuff over there, will you?' Jeremy whispered into Max's ear as he held his shoulder briefly then went towards the bar area. He'd spotted the dancer there, buying a drink, wearing a very revealing tight white shirt, emblazoned 'Club Shilling' over some fitting jeans that accentuated a firm frame.

Jeremy went closer to him, brushing shoulders as he also pretended to order something from the bar, then he turned towards him, 'oh, sorry about that, I thought you were done.'

'Sorry, what did you say?' the dancer asked, over the loud music.

'I said, I'm sorry I overstepped you, I thought you'd finished making your order!'

'Ah, no worries. It's pretty loud here!' Maina replied perfunctorily, then went in for the kill, 'why don't you get your drink and we can over there for a short chat,' pointing in the direction of the balcony area.

Jeremy almost choked. He hadn't expected things to escalate this quickly. He obliged and ordered another drink, even though he left his by the rest of the gang, and he followed behind Maina, trying not to look at his tight butt as they headed towards the balcony.


















Tuesday, March 15, 2016

COCKTAILS & CHARM IN NAIROBI, WITH LOVE (Part II)

The city of Nairobi is one with an intoxicating mix of charm, revelry, sex, charisma, violence, beauty and those on the downlow.
This new series seeks to explore the characteristics of the city through a group of friends who explore what the capital has to offer, in an increasingly global, gay and close-knit community. I hope you enjoy it!




- - - 
In our previous Episode, Max is looking for a new job at Placcard Advertising, as he looks for greener pastures away from FundiCorp. His social life isn't waning either, as he meets Imani, the hunky roommate of one of his close friends, Lucy. The gang that includes Jeremy, Mercy and Mwendo decide they're going to a new joint that's opened up to the West of the city of Nairobi.

***

Club Shilling is conveniently located next to one of the leading Radio Stations in the city. Don't be mistaken though; it's a dingy plain street lined with a lot of industrial warehouses in what's been an ignored part of Nairobi, but a crucial one to its existence. The glittering skyscrapers to the North and South of Kenya's capital often forget that they owe their grandeur to the fumes and mechanisms out of this area.

Tonight though, the object of desire for Max and his minions wasn't industry, but pleasure. Club Shilling was a new 'moderately stripper' joint frequented by middle class and often good looking crowds, a true page out of Chris Brown's single 'Beautiful People'. Freshly open and the talk of the town, we all know how Nairobian revelers have a love affair with new and shiny things, select nights were hosted by a well known socialite who was famed for her big hair, big butt, big boobs and bleached skin. Never mind the fact that Club Shilling ferried her to the venue in a limousine!

Neither Max nor Mwendo, Mercy or Jeremy owned a car because each were just starting out in their careers, and quite modestly successful in their crafts: Mwendo was into autos and dealerships, Mercy had a budding career in Music, though her main toast was teaching at a local girls high school, as Jeremy was a stock broker.

Max donned some fitting slim fit jeans with a branded cotton and leather semi-designed tee and a cape, equipped with fancy sneakers, as Mercy chose to go with some light jewelry, a sparkling spaghetti top and her short hair pulled back in a french bun, only serving to accentuate the warm but lightly applied tones of the makeup she'd put on. The only thing wrong wit her ensemble was that she wore flats, as she always did.

'Sweets, I love you, but you need to donate those condom shoes to the Salvation Army, stat,' Mwendo told her comically, as he sipped on his Dawa and gave her a sweet innocent smile.

'Shut up, Mwendo. You know I look good tonight as I always do... don't be hating instead of appreciating,' Mercy benignly retorted as she dusted off some imaginary particles from her fitting white pants.

'It's all working well, it's just the shoes,' Jeremy contributed, as Mercy looked towards Max for affirmation.

'Well, I'm here to enjoy the eye candy, and hopefully get lucky,' Max snarled, then giggled to himself, as he remembered what happened with Ndung'u just a few hours ago.

***
Ndung'u was calling out Max's name with an increasing pitch that only heightened him more, as he plugged the young man over and over over the couch, until he felt his eyes rolling into the back of his head, as his member unbelievably became harder in preparation to shoot what felt like heavy sperm from the depths of his soul into the lovely warm moist hole that clasped so convincingly around him.

The guy's legs were now spread wide open for Max's access, as he also touched himself, crying out and about to orgasm on cue with what was inside of him, and then came a steady audible knock at the door, followed a few seconds later with fumbling of keys, as both their senses were thrown into confusion, of having to end the orgasm and freeze in order to comprehend.

Overdrive adrenaline took over, as Max scampered for his clothes which were scattered all around Ndungu's tiny apartment, and sped into the bathroom, condom still on cock, as his host stared on in amazement, still slowly coming to terms with what was happening.

Inside the bathroom, Max grabbed some tissue from on top of the toilet cistern, pulled of the condom, neatly wrapped it up in tissue and proceeded to quickly flush the evidence, as he then wore what he could, in the process of trying to control his panting and seeming like everything was normal. In five minutes, he opened up the door...

'...thanks a lot bro for the shopping, and tell mum that I'm grateful for the chapos.' Ndung'u told the younger boy, who's back was to him. 'Hey Max, meet my smaller brother, Tim.'

Max reached out his hand to shake the youngster's hand, but the look he received was like that of cupid, his arrow replaced with a nuclear missile intent on obliterating him - that look of 'I know you two have been fucking, and I know my brother is gay, I'm not, and I'm only okay with this in theory, not in practice' (add a mental note of spitting on face).

He decided to courteously smile and make a quick exit.

***

Mwendo asked Max, 'And what are you so happy with yourself about?'

*clears throat* 'Nothing, Mwendo. Just relax your pretty little head...' Max said, as he grabbed his glass and sipped the Tusker Malt he'd ordered for. 

As they carried on with their banter, the host of the evening, the socialite who rocked 6-inch Louboutins and wore both a skin-tight little black dress and an ass the size of Ethiopia, sauntered onto the spotless stage at the center of the Club to announce that the 'dancers' were coming on stage shortly.

Max took the cue to saunter swiftly to the restroom to relieve himself before the arty got started. He excused himself and walked towards to the flight of stairs that led to the access-way towards the toilets. His gait was measured but he half kept his head up and down, as he liked to avoid any wary gazes, because deep down he was a bit shy and liked to keep a low profile. A bottle of his favourite whiskey Tennessee Honey caught his eye at the bar upstairs, and as his gaze lingered, he ended up bumping into someone a bit roughly.

'Im sorrr.....' were the first things that came out of his mouth, before he noticed some rather familiar thick and juicy red lips, that made him slightly parched, and absent-mindedly lick his own lips.

'Hey... Max?' Imani, Lucy's deejaying housemate asked, 'yo it's good to see you man! It's been a minute since we first met'. Imani half hugged him, the bro hug and tap on the back, before he let go and smiled, licking his lips in turn.

'Imani... it's great to see you too! Great memory you have there'

'I never forget a face, man, especially one like yours,' he replied, a remark that shocked Max and made him blush at the same time. 'What are you doing here?' Max inquired, in order to divert attention away from what seemed to catch him flat-footed. That's when he got the chance to see more of Imani, and notice that he was wearing combat trunks and a tight fitting blue v-neck t-shirt that was branded Club Shilling.

'Oh, didn't I tell you? I perform there' Imani said, pointing in the direction of the stripper stage.

'Really?' Max asked, half smiling as his brain pulled an escape for a second, peering at the stripper poles and the dancers who were starting to get onto the stage now.

'Not there, silly! There!...' Imani said, pulling Max' jaw further into the direction of the DJ booth, which wasn't far from the stage.

'Why don't you take my number, and we'll catch up later after the performances?' Imani pointed out, adding, ' and this time I mean the strip show.'

Contact information was exchanged and they parted ways, Max forgetting where he was going to in the first place, heading back to his seat.

There were four poles at the center of a 3-metre wide stage at the center of the club. The floor looked like it received polishing every half-hour, and the dancers who came on stage were all female, in skimpy yet surprisingly classy attire that was only enhanced by the subtle and sometimes more concise moves that entranced the audience, as cat calls could be heard and the tipping had already began.

The four friends were all grinning as they started to enjoy the performances on stage, until Max's eyes locked with Imani's from behind the dancers, and he winked!

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Of Office Winks and Crushes



The office is where you spend at least a third of your time each day, and therefore it's only prudent that you get to satiate some of your in-between time with sideshows, amusing things, and what I've come to get accustomed to, silently drooling over visiting or resident eye-candy.

Now where I work is a flourishing space of fauna, with men coming in all forms and sizes: some sporting well-fitting clothes, others too tight, others just right. There are those who know how to clad in order to emphasize their best assests, and there are those who just can't be fashionable to save their lives.

We've also got the extremely young; I'm talking about fresh out of high school or fresh into campus: more often than not, these twinks are bursting at the seams, willing to try new things, grabbing my attention in the process. For instance, yesterday, there was one who cam and sat next to my cubicle, trying to draw my attention with all sorts of ludicrous, simplistic things, such as a cup that changes colour with the temperature of the liquid that occupies it. I swear he tried four times to steer my gaze towards his frolicking.

Don't get me wrong, I don't work in an Academic Institution, but in a place that has a lot of traffic for a lot of aspirations. There's this one intern who knows how to dress strikingly well, and he's got a body and framework that are not deficient in exquisite mould. I'd be lying if I said that I'm not drawn to him most of the time, and it's even worse because in my head, or otherwise, he's thrown me a few looks. Maybe it's wishful thinking, and maybe it's not.

Then my hopes are also kept up by the fact that an old (gay) colleague of mine visited me this week, recounting of how he'd finally got head(no pun intended)wind with a guy I've been silently shuku-ing for long.

You see, Nelson* is a slender guy, and a nerd, who's great with websites and gadgets. A soft spoken fellow who has a sweet smile and some aura about him. My former colleague, Daniel, always secretly had the hots for him but nothing could ever come out of, apparently. But two years down the line and the two got to texting and this turned steamy, with mobile screens getting misty and finally the cat was out of the bag.

Nelson has been rather dodgy with Daniel coming over to his place though, with flimsy excuses like he has his cousins over, or something has come up, but we'll see about how that all goes down. I'll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, here I am, still awkwardly getting winks from strangers - would you believe two guys have winked at me at the office this past week, and I honestly don't know how to react. One is a Senior Security Officer with a multinational in Nairobi and the other is a Finance Director at an NSE-Listed firm. Both are white. Maybe it's a white thing?

Sigh. One thing I do know is that Office Romances are not at all for me...

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Let's Keep It Classy

Now I well understand that the way you live and breathe is grossly influenced by the way you were brought up and who you were brought up with, but ultimately self initiative is what will shape your destiny.

I'm often shocked to hear stories of how some Nairobians have never visited the CBD while others have lived their lives in the confines of gated communities and extended neighbourhoods. But one of the few lessons in life I'm beginning to learn is that you have to travel widely and experience new things, in order to open yourself up to growth and immense prospect.

Enough about sounding like an essay off a judicial paper. Let's talk about keeping it classy.

My best buddie, Jeremy, and I broke some new year resolutions of ours that included giving up on smoking sheesha and going to what we term as ratchet clubs.

There's something silently yet so deliciously attractive about breaking a rule. It may not hit you at the onset but the more you get drawn in, the more you get lost: think of it like the forbidden fruit. Don't they also call anal pleasures by the same name? It's like some empowerment or self worth is convincingly drawn by constantly pushing boundaries and going out of the norm.

Nonetheless we began our tirade of clandestine activities on the week prior to what was to be an amazing weekend. I don't want to jump ahead of myself, so I'll delve into all that later.

We have an innate obsession with karaoke; whereas I flourish in singing my heart out, Jeremy only feigns interest and only genuinely tolerates the 'torment' because of me. But deep down I know it's because of all the sideshows that come with our escapades. It's exhilarating to get into a club and experience undertones of overflowing testosterone bursting at the seems like a veiny dick ready to experience a cataclysmic orgasm. Jeremy has a bouncer who he really fancies, and I used to have a waiter there who really fancied me. Win Win.

You can imagine the oddity of one of the waitresses we had grown fond of pushing us to come with our valentines dates that Saturday. We silently enthused with each other that she thought she knew what was going on between us. Honey girl had no idea whatsoever.

So we got to drinking our favourite half mzinga of Whisky and were soon joined at the ample table by two other men: one was in a red polo shirt, tall, dark and lanky, with a stub and a generous dental formula, while the other was more muscular, with a chain and a visible white vest which he purposefully exposed by unbuttoning his green shirt. His wide eyes and subtle smile weren't fooling anyone of us, because both our gaydars were beeping quite regularly.

The Music at this particular club is usually very appealing to us, as to the rest of the revellers. It was no problem that this happened to be a Wednesday night and the club was thumping, with the DJ playing an intoxicating mix of Afro, Kwaito, Reggae and Kapuka.Totally getting us into the mood.

My mind floated back to a previous experience at the same joint, where I boldly approached a guy in drunken stupor and we ended up going home with him. Never mind the fact that I blacked out after seemingly futile attempts to draw him to my room. But where I failed, Jeremy flourished, as he jacked off the guy who then became super receptive and they partook of the pleasures of the flesh.

I wish I could claim that I heard or witnessed the goings-on, but I was totally out like a light, sleep being no problem at all for me.

Back to the present and we were both OTH (on the hunt), like your friendly neighbourhood predators looking for fresh meat. Alas with all this potential, nothing materialised about two hours later, and we decided that the venue was definitely going to regress and we'd go to some ratchet club in downtown Nairobi.

Surely enough when we checked in, the atmosphere was rife with intent and we were drawn into the epicentre of homosexual activity.

Jeremy spotted a cute light skinned and well toned young guy near the bar, and being the somewhat shy guy he is, pleaded with me to make a move for him and get the guy to our table. And mobilse I did, rather effortlessly. It seems like it was a match made in heaven, but when we were leaving, I was christened a party pooper, as the guy he was interested claimed that he doesn't give out his number but rather relies on fate to draw two people... WTF?

Hashtag ain't nobody gat time, and we were gone...

Saturday, January 3, 2015

Undefined but Redefined


I'm writing this as  listen to Elani's 'Hapo Zamani'. Music is powerful. It transports you to a whole new emotional realm that is beyond description: but thankfully words are adept to convincingly, or appropriately, express feelings. And my feelings are quite depressive, just at the moment.

It's all been brought about by some stupid feelings you have for someone: it's mutual but never really been categorically defined. Then there he is, in the arms of someone else, right in front of you and it's like some daggers are repetitively slashing through your heart like an Orc death scene out of The Hobbit.

I pride myself in not being a the proverbial slut; you know, sleeping with every other guy that comes along who I find attractive, though more often than not, such promiscuity takes place in the mind. Ah well, we're human.

But here's someone, Sam, who invaded my bed at a sleepover and made out with me, and left, then the very next morning he's in someone else's bed, entangled. And it hurts. How can he just sit there cuddling with someone else, knowing very well... *sigh*

But at that very moment, realisation struck, and I am not deficient in self-worth. Whatever this is I've been feeling for him is now desolate and void. Okay who am I kidding; it's not. But it's a turning point and I will work tooth and nail to ensure all these feelings are chipped away until nothing is left.

Friday, December 19, 2014

Victoria Kimani's 'Show' Tells a Whole Lot

My friends and I have had this sultry singer's latest visual production on repeat through the past weekend and week.

Victoria Kimani's 'Show' is a bold, sexy, sassy and daring concoction of fabulosity and I'm definitely loving the gregarious bottoms (giggles) doing their thing. The model sharing a seat witht eh Queen aint too bad either!

I'm curious to see whether the track will get much airplay on local and continental shows and stations. Loving the product though.

Watch it here: