Its World pride today in London. Watching the procession go by, brought back fond memories of past pride events I attended in the past and what pride means to me. This is best described in a post I had written for OutTalesaroundthefire.com a year ago. They have kindly allowed me reproduce it here…..
I have attended some gay pride events over the years – Atlanta, Amsterdam, Brighton, London, Tel Aviv and Miami. In all of them I saw people of different shapes and sizes, in different colourful costumes. There were some fashion “do’s” and “don’t’s”, some cover girls and some “Please cover-up girls” but it’s all about perception. One thing I found in common at these events was that the people were happy!! And they brought smiles to the faces of thousands of onlookers.
It is very difficult to imagine that just over two decades ago, Gay pride events were near sombre occasions. Now it’s a carnival and I thank and respect the pioneering gay activists who made the sacrifice and paved the way for the present situation. Like the moderator said, Pride means a lot of things to different people and to me it means F-U-N.
Which leads me to Amsterdam Pride. The year was 2008. The same year, Barack Obama was declared the Democratic Party nominee and Hilary Clinton saw red!! Alexandra Burke went on to win X-factor later that year and yet another song that had absolutely nothing to do with Christmas, became Christmas No 1 in the UK pop charts.
I stayed with a dear friend of mine, Niran. His flat was in the centre of Amsterdam facing one of the canals. And this canal just happened to be on the pride procession route. On the day of the event, he had friends over watching the flamboyant floats along the canal. It was fantastic. Wonderful sights, near naked bodies, a good vibe both inside the flat and on the street.
I decided to go out on the street to soak up some of the atmosphere and take pictures. I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a good-looking black guy. About 5’10”, in a sleeveless white gym top, black pair of shorts and trainers. Looked manly enough. Definitely do-able (if you catch my drift). I did not pay him much mind, as I was busy taking pictures of the men and women on the floats. I then walked up the street along the canal and after about two blocks I stopped to admire something (might have been a gorgeous body or building of note. I can’t quite remember and details are not too important at this stage), I noticed the same guy standing not too far from me. Could he be following me? Was he cruising?
I decided to head back to the front of Niran’s building. Niran met me outside and pointed out that I had an admirer and turned his head ever so slightly in the direction of the guy. He said the guy had been watching me taking photos and he confirmed that he followed me up the street and now back apparently. Hmmmm, now that was interesting. Niran went back into the building to see to his guests. Staying on the canal route, I walked a few houses away and stopped and look around and he was there again. So I took a deep breath and walk up to him and said hello and introduce myself. His name was Nicky; he was 26, from Suriname and worked in a bus depot. He was very masculine and had a baritone voice. I guess he could be a representation of Amsterdam’s homeboys. He also added that he lived far away from the centre of Amsterdam. (The last part of information was completed unsolicited). Showed that he was keen and direct. So I asked him if he wanted to join me at Niran’s place where there was a party. He agreed.
Got to Niran’s. Did the polite thing and introduced him to every one, just a general “Hey, this is Nicky”, to no one in particular. I took Niran aside and asked him if we could use his bedroom. He agreed. It could be possible, that was not the first time, such a request was made of him after all this was Amsterdam!! Bless his generous spirit. He is a good sport.
I went over to Nicky and discreetly pointed out the door to the bedroom and asked him to come through after five minutes. Hopefully no one would notice our absence. But did it matter? This was Pride in AMSTERDAM. Just by breathing in the air, one gets high!!!! No one would notice. They were at varying degrees of tipsy and getting high. I went into the bedroom and put away any easily portable items – like watches, wallets and rings into the bedside drawer (did not want to distract him) laid out a towel and some wet wipes (like to clean up afterwards) put out condoms and lube (safe sex always) and stripped to my pants (no point wasting time).
Five minutes later, I heard a quiet tap on the door. I opened it, he came in and I locked the door. He took off his clothes and he was butt naked. The package whilst very impressive and would bring some to their knees, was of no major interest to me. His backside however was another story. It was ample and pert. His side profile is best described by imagining the letter “I” with a bump on it, three quarters of the was down. He had a flat stomach as well. Lawd!!!!!
So we got down to business. We started foreplay and it was clear he was impressed with MY package. I would have wanted him to continue to show his appreciation in that way, but there was no time for prolonged foreplay. Someone might want to use the bedroom. So I put on a condom, applied some lube, passed it to him and he lubed himself up. He assumed the position on all fours on the bed allowing me to enter him from behind. He tensed up and gasped as I entered him. I stopped any movement, to allow him to get used to it. He quickly did and started sliding back and forth on me. It felt warm inside him. I moved to his rhythm and soon our movements were in sync. Slowly at first, but paced increased gradually. There was an excitement to all this for me, because it was completely spontaneous, with people on the other side of the door, with a stranger I met barely met 15 minutes before.
I grabbed hold of his thin waist and applied pressure, like I was massaging it. He let out a gentle moan and grinded deeper into my groin. He bucked harder. I took my left hand and reached for his left nipple and tweaked it. He moaned louder and bucked even harder. Next thing I know we reaches for the towel and strategically placed it under him and without touching himself or me touching him down there, he let out an extended moan, shuddered and released his load all over the towel. “Look Ma, no hands!!!!”
He did not let up on the bucking. I am used to people stopping when they off load. Not this one. He continued the pace. I was going to stop and withdraw, as it could be uncomfortable for him. Instead he clenched his inner muscle around me and about five minutes later, I too let out a long extended moan. I pulled out of him. I wiped myself. He wiped himself too and put on his clothes. I asked him to join the rest of the group while I dressed up and tidied up the bedroom.
I joined them later. I don’t think anyone missed us, as they were all engrossed with the events outside on the canal. Nicky left five minutes later and he gave me his number and I said I’d call. I never got round to it. I got busy. He might have probably gone out for another prey. For me that was the beginning. There were a few more, less rushed encounters the rest of the Pride weekend.
That is what Pride means to me and I always dedicate the first encounter to the pioneering gay activists.