
Peter's End
By Steve Prince
"Can't tonight boys," I gushed, "Momma's gotta date!"
"Oooohhh," Alex cooed, while Omar, Cody, and Troy smiled.
It was Saturday and the four of us had just finished a brisk walk through Santa Monica, right by Alex's condo. We sat in the grass under the shade of trees. I often have to remind myself it's November in California; I'm still not used to the beautiful weather.
We all tried to hang out with Alex on Saturdays, but all four of us could rarely make the visit at the same time. Hanging out usually involved a day of enjoying the beach outside, then brunch, and then enjoying Alex's pool and hot tub—a nice weekend tradition.
"I see how you are," Troy teased. "Instead of going to see a hot shirtless werewolf movie with us you'd rather fuck your boyfriend."
"Can I skip the movie and go with Stevie?" Cody interrupted.
We laughed as the ocean breeze rustled loudly in the palms above us.
"Well," I said, choosing my words carefully, "I don't know if I'll be the one doing the fucking, but it will be fun."
A collective, "What?" issued from all four of them. Shit the bed. Why did I just say that?
Omar, who had been lying on the grass, sat up. "Steve Prince," he said, "you mean you haven't fucked him?"
"No," I said, knowing where this was going. I really didn't want to bring this up right now.
"When did you become strictly a bottom?" Alex asked honestly.
"I'm not," I said.
"Then why aren't you fucking him?" Troy asked. "Or do you not want to?"
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"QColumn: A Gay In The Life: Peter's End"