Bobrisky, we all know him/her/them, the Nigerian Barbie doll we love to hate.
We’ve had our laughs, hurled our curses at him/her/them for years now. He/she/them likes to shock, us, I think, which is why we always notice his/her/their latest antecedents. I have no clue how to appropriately address Bobrisky. So, I will use all available pronouns to refer to him/her/ them.)
Now, my friend sent me a recent photo of Bobrisky. I guess he sent it to me because he knows I like Bobrisky. With all of the noise and cries for his/her/their head, I don’t think Bobrisky is our problem in Nigeria. I think we should leave him/her/them alone. There are more serious issues going on in Nigeria and Bobrisky isn’t a risk to anyone but himself/herself/themselves.
The last time I checked, there is freedom of expression, freedom to be, in the Nigerian constitution. Why do we get our backs up when Bobrisky comes online?
We mocked when he/she/they began to transform from Idris, the man, to Bobrisky, the cross dresser and today; after several surgeries…or maybe several misleading info, Bobrisky is now a full-fledged hot-blooded female. Even so, we still have doubts as to what actually exists between his legs.
Anyway, these photos featured a hotter-than-ever looking Bobrisky. He/she/they looked sultry, with full breasts, curvy hips and a body to die for! I even hear he/she/them may be pregnant.
If he/she/them wants to have a baby, who’s to say he/she/them can’t? .
So, I imagine myself to be a man, in bed with Bob. Where would I start undressing him/her/them from?
I would start with the hair…fake hair usually gets in the way of lovemaking. So out with the hair, then the heavy makeup…The bed and pillows would be messed up with all of that powder and colour. So, please, Bobbie, wipe ‘em off. I had better be ready to deal with what is beneath the makeup and wig. After all, I knew what I was going into, right?
Still, I would be somewhat shook and well…
Then I would kiss him/her/them and in doing so, as I explore his mouth with my tongue; I would be asking myself, come o, what do you think you’re doing?
But say I am bi-sexual. So, whether Bobrisky be a man or woman or them, really would make no difference. Thereafter, I would gently ease off his/her/their bra, to have a feel of his/her/their supple breasts. In the photo, they looked like ripe mangoes and very inviting. So, I would like to circle my mouth around the aureola…humm… That might be a problem cos…those mangos aren’t real, so if I suck too hard, I may suck in the silicone implants.
Anyway, by now, I imagine Bobby would be telling me to go easy on the breasts. They may look ripe under the clothes but they are not supple and they are not easy on the hands.
So, we move to me rubbing his/her/their belly…Well, my eyes are shut and I am rubbing Bob’s belly. There are a few ingrown hairs that graze my palm…I don’t let my thoughts wander much as I push my hands deeper under his/her/their trousers…I probe with urgent fingers, seeking his/her/their core…Let’s say I want to do a bit of fingering and…
My hand encircles something…a stump of flesh, roughened from surgery?
Abeg, I should wake up from my imagination and leave Bobrisky alone!
If indeed he/she/they are expecting a child, I will raise a glass to the newborn! That’ll be a lot easier than trying to make love to him/her/them.