Upskirting

Upskirting is a term used to describe the act of taking a photograph up someone’s skirt without their permission.  In most reported cases women are the victims and no men –I guess Kilt wearing Scots –  have come forward to complain.

The sexually invasive act was set to be made a criminal offence in the UK parliament this week, but a 70 year-old Conservative MP gleefully blocked it on some parliamentary procedural technicality, causing him to face a lot of backlash on social media.  But this post is not about heaping abuse on some privileged, same sex marriage hating, climate change denying, misogynist neanderthal, who has used parliamentary procedures to advance his own lecherous voyeuristic sexual perversions, but rather it is to address a little deviance of my own.

It is no secret my obsession with the male gluteus maximus and by which I mean tangible buttocks. Butts you can behold with thine eyes.  Not the unfortunate flat non-existent ones a friend of mine aptly describes as “extended backs”. Sometimes I wonder what the owners of such bums must have done in a former life, or indeed what their ancestors did, to warrant such an omission by God when he was handing out butts.

Bubble Butt_1

No, I mean Bubble butts. Visible cakes. Butts you spank and the sound reverberates around the room and collides with the moans emitted from its owner with each spank, while ravaging him from behind.

Bubble Butt_2

Or the butts you can grab and hold on to for dear life, as its owner bucks away furiously on top of you in reverse cowgirl position, like a jockey racing his horse towards the finish line.  Yes, those kind of butts.

It’s crazy because one of the first things I do when I see any remotely attractive guy in public is to discreetly check out the backside. I have always said if I was ever to identify a male crime suspect in a Police line-up, I would have to ask them to turn around to give a positive ID. Such is my obsession.

Recently, I have taken this infatuation a bit further – I now use my smart phone to take discreet pictures of guys with bubble butts. This could be in the street, on the underground, on the bus or sometimes at the gym.Bubble Butt_4

This morning while trying to take a picture of the bubble butt on a guy walking in front of me, I had an epiphany – as I tripped and came crashing hard on the pavement and aggravated an old shoulder injury in the process – that in some ways this could be similar to Upskirting but perpetrated on men.

It has the same hallmarks  – taking pictures of someone’s butt without their permission and it could be seen as a sexual intrusion into their privacy.  It is only a matter of time before men (hopefully those with bubble butts) in the name of equality, start campaigning for their own version of the law to be passed.

So in order to avoid any possible future embarrassment – you never know I might run for public office, I spent a good part of the morning while waiting to be seen by a Doctor at the A&E department, deleting images of bubble butts I took over the last few months. They were in their hundreds.

I am not sure what was more traumatic – the excruciating shoulder pain before being given strong pain killers or the agony of deleting those pictures.

 I think I need Jesus….

I wonder if He has a bubble butt….🤔

Bubble Butt_3

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Wild Thoughts

The hustle is real, so off to work I go.

I do the 10 minute walk to the London Underground station. I have my headphones on. I am listening to music from my “recently played” playlist set on random selection mode. There are 175 songs. Means songs from Classical, Musicals, Pop, RnB, Gospel, Hip Hop, Afrobeat and possibly Apala music genres can start playing any time. I like the unpredictability.

The sassy song “Trouble” by Iggy Azelea ft. Jennifer Hudson is currently playing.  

I get to the Tube station and the platform is crowded.  About 3 people deep from the edge of the platform, there is some delay on the line. I was hoping for a trouble free journey into work today.

And right on cue, Andra Day starts singing “Not Today” in my ears with her mellow and soul stirring voice .

I maneuver myself into position on the section of the platform, where I can get on the carriage nearest the exit when the train arrives at my stop. Most people do this.

I am behind a young interracial couple. They are probably in their mid to late twenties. She white, blonde, about 5’7” tall, wearing light make up and a body hugging short black dress, that accentuates her curves. He Indian, stands at roughly 5’10”, athletic build, wearing a blue turban on his head and a light pink shirt tucked into a pair of grey slim fitting trousers and holding a gym bag. I assume he will be going to the gym at some point in the day. They look so loved up.

Tina Turner starts to serenade me with “Two People”. How sweet.

I steal a look at this bum. It would be rude not to. It is visible. Not flat. Not big, but round and firm. It complements his athletic body nicely. I know I shouldn’t foster stereotypes, but for an Indian, “Baby got back”.  Would I tap that?  Most likely, but that’s not up to me. He kinda looks hella straight. I will call him Ramdeep.

Blue turban 6

 

Two busy trains come into the platform in succession. No one gets off from the carriage we are positioned in front of, so no one gets on. Shit I will be late for a meeting at work. A third one comes in. Some passengers get off and more people on the platform try to occupy the space they vacate. Back in the day, in Lasgidi (Lagos), I learned how to squeeze myself into a crowded Molue bus. If they think I will forget those skills for the sake of propriety, they have another thing coming.

Molue

I manage to get on.

Fela Kuti starts playing  “Shuffering and Shmilling” through my headphones. The line in the song “49 sitting and 99 standing” very much describes the situation in the train carriage. The rest of the song, though released over 30 years ago, highlights endemic corruption which is still very pertinent to Nigeria…But I digress.

It’s a tight squeeze. My back is pressed against the carriage door. Ramdeep with the nice cakes, is in front of me. He is facing his girlfriend with his back to me and his firm round butt just about grazing my groin area. Any slight movement and it will brush against me for sure.

I press my back as much as I comfortably can against the door, to create a respectable distance between my groin and his butt. I won’t be in this position for too long. Maximum 3 minutes.  The next stop has connections to other underground lines and a good number of passengers will get off.

The train sets off. 30 seconds into the journey, something causes Ramdeep to move back a bit. Perhaps being the attentive boyfriend that he is, he is trying to give his girlfriend a bit of space to ease the crush on her. Not sure if he is aware but, he just entered the unspoken allowable personal space of an adjacent individual in a packed train.

I don’t say anything. No point causing a fuss. Besides if he doesn’t mind his backside just about resting on another man’s groin…more power to him.

Now, his butt is grazing my groin and he unconsciously mirrors the slight rocking motion of the train, only he is subtly swaying back and forth into me.

Christina Aguilera  croons “Want your skin up against mine. Move my hips to the baseline…” from her song “Get mine, Get yours” from the playlist. 

Oh Lord, this is not good.  It would be over in about 2 and a half minutes. Wrong.Read More »

My Blatino Oasis 2017 (NSFW)

I finally got my ass over to Palm Springs, California for the Blatino oasis gay event

late last month. Something I had been thinking of doing for the last 6 years but couldn’t, due to (in no particular order) work commitments, personal finances, weddings and a morbid fear of being used for target practice by a jacked up US law enforcement officer.

But I overcame all these obstacles and found myself in the sweltering Palm Springs desert heat of 36 degrees centigrade and looking forward to the entertainment,  lined up for the year’s Blatino gathering.

Here is a blurb from the website www.blatinooasis.com

Blatino Oasis is a retreat (not a pride event), started in 2007, and held annually in Palm Springs, California. The next event will be held April 27-April 30, 2017. The retreat offers a variety of activities geared towards gay and bisexual men of color and our friends & lovers, to help us to party, relax and enjoy ourselves, in the beautiful, very gay friendly and legendary Hollywood vacation resort getaway to the stars, Palm Springs, California.”

Passes for the activities are released 12 months in advance and the early bird passes sell out really quickly, so I purchased mine not too long after they were released last year.

Blatino - 23 of 23

As is the norm for such events organised in the US, there is a host hotel, where most of the activities are held.Read More »

How Keredim Got His Groove Back…..Almost

It’s January and I found myself in Montego Bay Jamaica, hundreds of kilometres away from the cold UK weather, primarily to get some sunshine and possibly sample some authentic Jamaican homegrown wholesome non-genetically modified rump. And maybe some authentic Jamaican cuisine along the way.

jam_man3

During the short 10 minute taxi ride to the hotel resort where I was staying (and throughout the holiday), being a Nigerian I could not help but notice some similarities, between my people and black Jamaicans – physically and in some mannerisms. This is not so surprising considering what went on during the era of slave trade, where my people were forcibly taken from the west code and landed all over the Caribbean.  So effectively we are very distant cousins.

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First thing that struck me was the driving.Read More »

Brexit: The result

Brexit

Woke up this morning.

Saw the news on TV

I am speechless.

What the Fuck just happened!?!

Britain Voted to leave the EU??!!

Cameron resigns?!?!

I am in shock. Feels like I have been hit by a truck.

I am incontinent incandescent with rage.

”Why Lord, Why hast thou forsaken me? Why have You reduced the chances of finding a white round bubble butt in Britain?” (Click here)

 Shit.  I really don’t need this right now!!!

Oh well…. Time to brush up on my Spanish…..

How do say “Have you got a bubble butt?” in Spanish….

 

Brexit – A Case For Bubble Butts

Incase you haven’t heard, the United Kingdom will be voting in a referendum on June 23rd to decide whether to leave the European Union (EU) or to stay. This has been aptly termed “Brexit” to leave or “Bremain” to stay.

What brought this on? Since Britain joined the EU back in 1973, dissenting voices have always complained that they wanted to leave the community. They were (and are still) not happy with the EU laws and standards they had to subscribe to as a member country.  The idea of being ruled by anyone else other than themselves is abhorrent to them. Rule Britannia and all that.Read More »

Crap I Get On Grindr

I like good personal hygiene. I like my hookups showered and prepared before we meet up. I expressed my sentiments about douching here in a previous post.

Unfortunately not all bottom guys I hookup with share the same sentiments and this continues to baffle me. Consequently, during chats on whatever hookup site or app I am on and the hookup looks certain, I always ask if the guy has douched. Initially, I used to think it was improper to ask, but after more than a few unpleasant surprises, I have thrown all propriety out the window and I now routinely ask.

It seems however that I might have an answer to my bafflement.

Let me set the scene: This guy from Spain contacted me on Grindr in March, saying he would be in London in June for business. We exchanged pictures and agreed we would be a good fit in bed. We exchanged numbers and our conversation moved to Whatsapp. He arrives in London and we arrange a provisional time to meet and seal the deal. Below is the interesting part of the conversation. Please note English is not his first language, but he clearly communicated his thoughts about douching.

Douche1Douche2.

I was stunned. This guy was saying he couldn’t go home to douche and that it didn’t really matter, because I was going to use condoms anyway. So would he have offered to go home and douche if we were going to fuck bareback? Or maybe he would have suggested I just wash my dick of it turned out he was messy? Unbelievable!!!

For me a clean bottom is not negotiable. I do appreciate accidents do happen and the best preparations don’t exactly workout; but at least be seen to give a shit and make an effort and douche. But not this guy. So I feigned an emergency and cancelled the hookup. His wasn’t the only arse on business in London.

It got me thinking though, is the use of condoms one of the reasons some bottom guys don’t douche?

I am still baffled.

Sex In Prague

It is Sunday. I have been in Prague for two weeks with work. I am horny. I am an arse man.I make no apologies about that. I like them bubble, I like them muscular, I like them pert, I like them visible. When I see guys I like on the street, bus, train, clubs, bars, wherever, I checkout their backsides. I check out the local guys here and though majority of them have porn star looks, their arses were flat, sometimes concave shaped. My chances of getting laid seem low.

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Previous attempts at hooking up using Grindr and Scruff have been futile. About 80% of the profiles on there are twinks. I am beginning to think this is where twinks are manufactured and sent out to the rest of Europe – a bit like the Skoda. Twinks are not for me. I prefer muscular/athletic body types. I mention this in my profile, but this is ignored. A common trend I find no matter where in the world I am. No one reads. Why the twinks pose like Victoria Beckham, complete with pouty lips in their profile pics, bewilders me. They send me unsolicited pics of their bums, usually exposing their arseholes. Where I am lucky they send bum pics in a bend over pose to accentuate their bony arses.

The other 20% of the profiles are either not attractive or want a racial sexual fantasy fulfilled. When I get messages like “I like black mans”, “I have never had a black man inside me” or “I want BBC – Big Black Cock ”, I look for the block icon. When Does Sexual Fantasy Become Offensive?

So I head out to one of the two highly recommended Gay saunas in Prague – Sauna Babylonia, situated in the old town area, near Mustek Metro station.Read More »

How To Make New Friends On Facebook….Or Not!!

I just got slapped by Facebook…AGAIN. I seem to fall foul of their ever changing rules which I don’t take time to read and I am yet to meet anyone who does either. It all suspiciously started not long after my blog post The fabulous life on Facebook. I wrote another blogpost that appeared on my timeline on facebook with a picture of a nice juicy phallus. The custodians of morality at Facebook Support Dashboard – FBSD (The acronym makes them sound like the secret service), removed the entry from my timeline because allegedly some self-righteous Mary Whitehouse wannabe found the picture offensive and reported it.

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Is this offensive?

Read More »

Conversation with the Barber

Went to have my hair cut on New Year’s Eve by my regular barber. His name is Emenike. Good looking, average height, well-groomed beard, with a lean physique you get from hard labour – he hardly has any fat on him. Naturally, I have checked out his butt and he has absolutely nothing to be ashamed about.

Ngo Okafor

When I go to see him, I tell him what I want done and he does it. We never have any conversations. He hardly talks anyway; he just gets on with it, unlike other barbers who like to give their unsolicited opinion of everything they see on TV, Nigerian Politics and outside the shop window.

Half way through cutting my hair the following conversation ensued:

Emenike: You no travel?

This is not an unusual question to ask between Nigerians around the Christmas holidays as it is customary we travel home to celebrate with our families. It is also an opportunity to show real or often imagined affluence and showcase ourselves.  In the process  single straight Nigerians get future spouses. Being a gay man and not being out to my village, I am not prepared to spend £££ on a 2 week trip to be bombarded with questions about my marital status and be subjected to a long array of potential brides to choose from. So I use Skype to stay in touch during the festive season and feign bad connection when the question of marriage comes up.

Me: No, I didn’t. Work has been too busy.

Em: What part of Nigeria are you from?

Me: The East. Imo state.

Em: Eziokwu!!? E na su Igbo? Really? Do you speak Igbo?

He said this with the joy of a proverbial shepard who has just found his long lost sheep. Igbo is the language spoken by the Igbos  from the Eastern part of Nigeria, where I come from. 

Me: Ehe nu. Ofuma ofuma (Of course I do. Very well for that matter) 

The rest of our conversation is held in Igbo.

Em: Did you know I am Igbo? Why haven’t you spoken it to me before all this time you have been coming here?

Me: No real reason. Most times I just want to cut my hair and go. Ndo biko. I am sorry.

Em: Ok, no problem. When was the last time you went home?

Another question we tend to ask each other to ascertain if we have the correct documentation to allow us back into Britain or we just don’t have that many family ties left at home.

Me: 2008. My family (brother and sister) are here. My parents visit every year.

Em: Are you married?

Me: No?

Em: Eh? Why?!?

There was shock in his voice. Like it is a mortal sin to be male, Igbo and living in South London.

Me: It just hasn’t happened.

Em: You have a girlfriend?

Me: No

Em: Ah ah? Why now?!?

Now he is really worried for my existence on this earth

Me: Women don’t interest me.

WTF?!! Did I just say that in a testosterone filled  Nigerian Barbers’ shop??

Em: What interests you then?

Me: Men.

Em: Ok. I wouldn’t have guessed. You don’t look it.

Igbo

Em: Are you proud? Do you hide it?

Me: I am telling you now, aren’t I? If anyone asks me I will tell them. I have come too far  to start denying.

Em: Are you male or female?

Wow…that threw me a bit…He is asking if I am top or bottom. Is he interested? Going by all my escapades both published and unpublished on this blog and my recent failed attempt to bottom, my response wasn’t a lie.

Me: Male.

Em: There is a guy from my village who lives around here. He is like a brother to me, so we talk. Everyone knows he is a female. The way he carries himself, but he is still hiding it. I told him he is here now in the UK, he can live freely. He got married to a white girl and got his papers then the marriage ended. The other day he told me he went home and got married and the girl is pregnant(!) I really don’t know why he did it?

There was even more disappointment in his voice than when I told him women didn’t interest me. He was genuinely concerned. This touched me.

He took out his phone and showed me the guy’s picture. Yup he is fem. I recognised him. I have seen him sashaying on the high street. A blind dog would know he is gay. Not that there is anything wrong with that. It is just the way he is built.

Me: As long as our people continue to demonise homosexuality, you will find people like your kinsman all over the place. They will continue to hide because they are scared of the fall out and the shame they might bring to their family.

Em: Do your parents know?

Me: They know but we don’t discuss it. They have stopped asking me about a girlfriend or when I am getting married.

Em: Are they happy about it?

Me: Probably not. A few years ago my mother asked me again, I told her I wasn’t getting married to a woman just to make her (my mum)happy? It would be unfair on the woman and I wouldn’t be happy. So she just has to deal with it.

Em: Hmmm. Have you had girlfriend’s before? Don’t women “move” you? Isn’t it a choice?

Me: Nwokem, my friend, it is not a choice. It is how God made me. Yes, I have been with women, but they don’t ‘move’ me as much as men do. What is a choice is how I have decided to live my life. I can either be happy being myself or unhappy trying to make my mother happy and my ‘wife’ unhappy.

Em: Do you go to church?

Me: Yes.

Em: But not our Nigerian Pentecostal church?

Me: No. I attend Church of England. In Nigerian Pentecostal churches, everyone wants to know your business and being gay is not acceptable. They will start binding and casting out demons on my behalf.  Meanwhile the church elders are either in the closet or committing adultery. I have no time or offering for closet cases or blatant hypocrisy.

Em: Nna, I hear you. Our people hide the thing well.

Me: Please continue to support your kinsman. Let him know you are there for him. With open minded Nigerians like you there would be hope for us all.

With that I paid him and shook his hand and left.

I thought to myself, he is quite open-minded and reasonably vast in the ways of western ways of life. He mentioned a couple of other gay Nigerians clients of his, so he is reasonably comfortable and exposed to the gay way of life. He is not saying “we do not have gays in Nigeria”

I just wonder if he would be the same if he went back to Nigeria and settled down. Society has a way of changing us. Maybe I am just being cynical.

Time will tell…..