The Nigerian Dancer


The Nigerian’s profile pic.

The Nigerian Dancer teaches Afro dance classes in New York City and comes to Baltimore and Washington. D.C. for gigs.

He hit me up online and for a year has insisted on meeting me. But he looked so young – he is 30 but looks like a teenager – that I continually fluffed him off.

But Monday he visited Baltimore and texted that he wanted to meet me while on his way to a cousin’s home. I explained I was taking a flight to Florida to see my partner in a few hours.

“I can Uber to you in 15 minutes,” he said.

So I reluctantly said yes but was pleasantly surprised. He was very intelligent and mature and expressed happiness to get a Green Card so he can practice his art in the United States and be more openly gay.

Plus he had a beautiful mocha body, tight ass, and a huge duck for visuals.

I took a few photos for souvenirs. Here they are two:

Guilt


ThinkstockPhotos-912932514

“Ira” hit me up on Craigslist months ago before Craiglist yanked the personals ads.

From the start I should have known he was wrestling with deep issues. Like starting with his name. What parents give their son a name more commonly given to girls? That had to fuck him up as a kid.

Ira is married and lives in one of those mini-mansion, tract homes in the Baltimore suburbs of Owings Mills. He is tall and light-skinned, in his late 50s, still has a decent body, and runs a successful media business.

Through a series of texts Ira explained that although he is married and a father and grandfather he has played with men since his days in college at Morgan State University.

“I’ve never been very good with women,” he said.

Since Ira claims to be religious he would go through periods of extreme guilt after playing with men. But of course the desire would build again and a few weeks or months later Ira would again find a man to rub dicks with.

Personally I thought we would never meet — he seemed so conflicted and more interested in talking about male-to-male sex than doing it. But last weekend I got a surprise text from him. He was doing some business nearby and wanted to drop by. We had been texting back and forth for a year, so why not?

But the sex was weird. I knew he wasn’t into penetrative sex so it would all be foreplay. But he insisted I put on a condom just to frottage because he was afraid of catching a disease and taking it back to his wife.

Then he averted any eye contact with me at all, his eyes darting away when I looked at him like some nervous animal.

“If I don’t look at you I  still get the feeling of sex but I can kinda psyche myself out that I’m not really here,” he explained.

Yup, told you brother man had issues.

To be honest he insulted me. He was the one seeking me out but then treated me like a walking germ just waiting to give him an STD. And the sex was trash.

Then, not long after he departed Ira texted saying he was again suffering from a severe case of religious guilt. It was like he was blaming me.

“I have reservations and I’m trying to be sincere to my wife.”

“I have God on my side. That’s why I feel uncomfortable with it.”

I urged Ira to not walk but run to get therapy from a psychologist or social worker who was an expert in dealing with men grappling with same-sex attraction. And I assured him that he could still have an active faith based life and still be a same gender loving man. He just had to work it out.

That backfired.

“Messing around is not my cup of tea any longer. I’m distancing myself from sin,” he responded.

The next day I called two buddies to talk about Ira. One is a gay man who was formerly married to a woman but is now married to a man and is a minister and gospel singer in southern Maryland. Let’s call him “Daniel.”

And the second friend lives in San Francisco and is very active in the Congregational Church in California. Let’s call him “Roger.”

“That man is just ignorant about the Bible,” Roger said.

Roger went on to explain how some so-called Christians pick and choose parts of the Old Testament Book of Deuteronomy that seem to condemn homosexuality. But they conveniently ignore other parts of the book that say practices such as eating shellfish and wearing garments of mixed fabric will send you to hell, too.

The Apostle Paul, who wrote against homosexuality, was a product of the patriarchal Jewish society of his times, Roger explained. The most important thing is Jesus never condemned homosexuality in the Gospels and in fact if Jesus was on Earth today he would probably be supporting oppressed groups such as immigrants, the homeless and LGBT people, he said.

“I think Ira’s main problem is not that he is gay but why is he cheating on his wife,” Roger said. “When he figures out why he is married to her and cheating everything else will work out. It goes beyond the fact he is gay.”

Daniel was more blunt, which surprised me because he is a minister so I thought he would have a more conciliatory, helpful tone. Daniel said he was just tired of arguing with ignorant people such as Ira about whether being gay was a sin.

The medical and mental health profession had long ago proved that homosexuality is merely a part of the human continuum. And many denominations now accept LGBTQ people, Daniel said.

“Why are you wasting time with that brother,” Daniel said. “He is not worth arguing with. And please don’t have sex with him again.”

 

 

 

The Handymen


I took a shot of “Dominic” with my cellphone. He and Carlos showed up for work at my house not wearing drawers. I saw a lot more of them than just their roofing work.

My rowhouse is almost 100 years old. So renovation has been a constant thing since I moved in five years ago.

First I added a bathroom. Then my partner Van and I gutted out the old kitchen and had a contractor install a new, modern one. Then it was on to re-do the upstairs bathroom. And on and on.

And we hire handymen to do the work. And sometimes these outwardly macho men do some of the gayest shit.

I met “Carlos” at Club Bunns on game-night. We were spade partners. And we whipped ass, winning two or three games in a row.

He mentioned he did some home repair work so I said, “Damn, man I need a new roof on my back porch. Could you do the job?” And Carlos said, “Damn, skippy.”

But even though Carlos was at a gay bar, playing spades with a bunch of gay dudes, he explained he was straight. In fact, he just did occasional maintenance work at the bar and had a girlfriend.

“There she is over there at getting a drink,” he said. And he introduced me to this cute, little brown-skinned thing.

But that very night Carlos pulled me outside for a cigarette break and started complaining about how he and his girl didn’t get along and fought all the time and how sometimes he just hated going home.

This was a red flag to me — sometimes “straight men” use that “I-ain’t-getting-along-with-my-girlfriend” routine as a way to get out and hook up with men.

Then I mentioned to the club manager that I was going to hire Carlos to do some work

“Hey, that’s my boy,” the manager, “Antonio” said. “Are you going to try to get that ass?”

“Oh, wow, I just met his girlfriend. Does he swing with men, too? I didn’t know that was your piece,” I answered.

Antonio didn’t answer the question right off the bat (later he said he did not play with Carlos). “Oh, he does good work. You should be pleased,” he answered.

Still, I thought it odd a gay man would act so territorial about a handyman.

So a month later Carlos and his buddy “Dominic” showed up to do the work. And right off the bat I noticed they were wearing sagging jeans. And then I noticed they weren’t wearing drawers.

And they are stretching up on ladders and climbing on the porch roof and bending over to cut roofing tiles. And their asses were out. And their pants were sagging so low in front I could see pubic hair. And the dick prints were popping.

And they had to be checking each other out because sometimes Carlos would hold the ladder for Dominic and Dominic’s ass would be right in his face. And vice versa.

And they bantered and joked and joned on each other in a downright affectionate way. Like old lovers.

“I bet they get down with one another,” I thought to myself.

But I didn’t flirt or nothing. Because my gaydar could have been off and I didn’t want to mistake a straight man for a gay man. It was two against one — my partner was in Florida and I didn’t want to have to fight two dudes in my backyard.

So they got the roof done and I paid them for the job and off they went. But not 15 minutes later Carlos called back from Dominic’s phone, claiming he had misplaced his. “Can I come back and look for it,” he asks.

That’s the oldest trick in the book, I thought. I saw him glancing at me through the window while he worked. He was very friendly. He probably wanted to come back and flirt.

But all I did was help him find his phone (turned out he had really left it in the flatbed of Dominic’s truck) and sent him on his way.

But soon another handyman would come into my orbit who was much more obvious.

For months this brother on Adam4Adam was hitting me up, saying he liked my profile and photos and wanted to get together. He explained he was bisexual and not too experienced with male-on-male sex.

This week “Wallace” hit up me again so I invited him over. He explained he was a renovation contractor doing some estimates nearby and  would get to me before his next job in Glenn Burnie.

He showed up, tall, balding and light-skinned, with green eyes. Kinda handsome actually.

“I’ve been married for 16 years and have three kids,” he explained. “But I like playing with guys too. I was doing that even before I got married. Sometimes I need a little fix.”

So we went up to the bedroom and played. He took off his work jeans and boots and actually had a beautiful body with light brown, kinky hair dusting his flat stomach, chest and lean legs.

His uncut dick was big and as it got harder the head popped out from the foreskin like a gopher peeping out of a prairie hole.

He was more experienced then he let on. He kissed me sweetly and nibbled my nipples. Then I spread his legs and dove between and started eating his ass. He was clean but had been sweating and his skin had a slight salty taste.

He seemed fascinated with the size of my dick though. Soon he was sucking it and jerking it furiously. It most definitely was not one of his first times on a dick.

“I want to see you cum,” he murmured between licks.

So we lay on our backs and jerked off until it we nutted. His nutt squirted backward in an arc that splattered his belly. I got up and got a damp washcloth so he could clean up.

And we had a post-coital chat.

“So you are a contractor,” I asked. “Are you licensed and bonded?”

“Yup, I can give you my license number.”

“Well, I need some windows reframed on the back of the house. Can you do the job?”

“Yup I sure can. And my rate is usually $150 an hour but I’ll hook you up Immanuel and do it for just $75.”

“That’s a deal,” I said. “Can you come back Friday?”

“Yup I can but I work with my straight buddy. So you gotta act like we didn’t get down. I don’t want him going all over West Baltimore spreading my business.”

“Dude, for $75 an hour you don’t have to worry about that. Besides, I don’t give a fuck about your personal life. That’s none of my business. See ya Friday!”