QColumn: A Gay In The Life: Commando

QColumn: A Gay In The Life: Commando
Commando
By Steve Prince

I threw back the covers. The assault of cool air from the ceiling fan stung against my naked body. Wearily, I pushed myself and sat on the bed. I turned my head and looked at Peter, sleeping calmly. I smiled remembering the night we had together.
I’d forgotten how nice it was to wake up beside someone. Call it cliché or cheesy, but it just feels good to roll over in the morning and kiss someone’s shoulder.
The hardwood floor of Peter’s bedroom creaked as I stood. I glanced around the room. A pile of my clothes lay in the corner.
“Ugh”, I groaned reminding myself I need to do laundry. I walked to the bathroom, my feet thudding on top of the hollow floor.
I flicked on the light as I entered.
“Mmm,” I groaned, my eyes wincing from the bright light. I turned the light off.
I rubbed my face in my hands and glanced in the mirror. In the morning sunlight, I could see that my eyes were puffy, the blackheads on my nose looked terrible, and, as I itched my scalp and felt something crunchy, I realized I probably had cum in my hair. Needless to say it was a late night. A good night, but late just the same. No matter how much fun you have the night before there is something about the brutality of morning that is just…well, brutal.
I sighed, debating on whether to brush my teeth before I went back to bed. That would be polite I thought. But tiredness won out and I decided I would just pee.
I sat on the toilet seat. Yes, I sat. Look sometimes I just don’t like standing up to pee. For one thing, it’s loud. I always feel like a horse peeing in a pond. It just seems crude. The other thing is that I don’t trust my aim this early in the morning. It just seemed like too much energy.
As I sat on the toilet, I reached over and turned on the faucet to help give me a boost. I yawned, smacked my lips, and soon the familiar feeling of urination came upon me.
“Owww!” I said audibly, hopping up from the toilet seat. I stopped in mid-pee. Sharp pinpricks burned at the end of my penis. Like a dog looking for a wound, I glanced down at my dick to see what was going on.


I looked down. The end of my dick was very red and inflamed. What the fuck? What happened? I’ve never had this problem before. With dread, I pointed my little guy downward and finished peeing. It burned but wasn’t as shocking as the initial pain.
Finishing up I looked again. Hmmm. What could have happened? Oh God, I thought, do I have something? No. I can’t. I’ve only been with Peter and we’ve used condoms. And I haven’t even fucked him. I mean I just rubbed the tip of it against his ass, but Peter says he’s not into bottoming (which is another story altogether).
“Steve,” Peter’s voice shot out from the bedroom.
“Yeah,” I called back. My voice was a little too loud. I hoped my tone didn’t indicate a problem.
“Everything okay?” Peter asked.
Fuck. I’m a terrible liar. Just plain terrible. I don’t know how I stayed in the closet for so damn long.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied. I looked down at my dick again. Dammit. This was anything but fine.
Two days later…
“Please look at my penis!”
“No,” Troy said emphatically, “this is beyond friendship!” He turned his back and began to walk away.
“I would do this for you,” I pleaded, trying to add guilt.
Troy whipped around. “That’s because you’re a people pleaser, Steve Prince!”
I ignored that comment. “But I need to know!” I unbuttoned my pants, “Look. It’s swollen, isn’t it?”
“Ahh,” Troy squealed shutting his eyes.
I stood there defiant. “I’m not putting it back in until you look.”
Ten minutes later, I still stood there with my dick out.
“If I look at it, will you just leave?” Troy demanded.
“Yes,” I said, totally lying.
“Fine.” Troy opened his eyes. He looked down and made a disgruntled face. Then he cocked his head and looked interested. Finally, he leaned over and a look of concern stretched across his face.
“That’s not good,” he said, “not good at all.”
Four days later…
“Steve?”
“Yeah,” I answered from the bathroom.
“Coming to bed?” Peter’s voice cooed.
Oh God, he wanted to fool around. I could tell it in his voice. Peter and I hadn’t seen one another in almost a week. Honestly, I tried to avoid him.
See Peter and I were still in the “initial” stages of our relationship. “Initial” meaning we screwed like rabbits. Really. We had sex at least once a day.
What made it worse was that I wanted it. Not only had I not had sex but I hadn’t even jacked off in almost a week!
I’d never gotten an STI before and I must say I felt stupid for having it. For the past week I had been racking my brain over trying to remember how this could have happened, but I couldn’t think of any moments when I had been unsafe. I felt a bit like damaged goods and I didn’t want to talk to Peter about it. Either he was going to feel that I was a freak or think I was saying that I got it from him.
“Steeeve…” he called.
I popped my head in the doorway of the bathroom and flicked off the light.
“Hold your horses,” I said smiling.
I took off my shirt, and my shorts, but left my underwear on and crawled into bed. When I lifted the covers I saw Peter’s naked body and I couldn’t notice that he already had an erection.
Jeezus. I kept forgetting that Peter hasn’t been out for that long. Even though Peter has the body of a twenty-nine year-old, he has the cock of a fourteen year-old. I mean, his thing’s hard all the damn time. The smallest things turn him on.
Peter began to cuddle up to me.
“Goodnight,” I said leaning over and pecking him. I began to pull away and roll over.
“Wait,” he said drawing back to him. He kissed me passionately. And fuck, now I was hard. He began to press his body against my own.
Again, I pulled away.
“Goodnight,” I said with all the strength I could manage. I rolled over but Peter pounced on me instantly. He pressed his erect self in the small of my back and began kissing my shoulder. My own dick jumped in protest.
“Stee-eeeve,” he said in a singsong whisper, “Steee-eeve.” His hand began to slide down towards my dick.
I turned and faced him. “Sweetie, I have a headache.”
Really? I really just said that? How fucking cliché could I be? I mean, cue the Donna Reed music and just put me in a dress and apron. Who even uses the headache excuse anymore?
Peter thought it was lame too. He looked at me sulkily. Then he huffed and rolled over.
Twenty minutes later, I lay on my back staring at the ceiling. Peter had not moved, but I could tell he was not asleep. Finally not able to hold it in, I spoke.
“I’m sorry,” I said abruptly.
“For what?” he asked.
“You know,” I said.
Peter groaned, “No. I don’t.”
I rolled over on my side and faced him. “For not wanting to fuck.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Peter said. Did I mention Peter was a bad liar too?
“You don’t mean that,” I said.
This time he rolled over.
“Okay,” he said flatly, “you’re right I don’t. I haven’t seen you in almost a week and you’re acting weird. Did I piss you off?”
“I HAVE PUSS ON MY PENIS!” I blurted out.
“What?” Peter said taken aback.
Five minutes later I had told Peter everything. He lay there quietly, which kind of unnerved me.
“Do you think I have something?” I asked.
“No,” he said, “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“But what if it’s from my slutty days,” I blurted out, the images of past encounters rolling through my mind.
“Steve,” Peter said, holding my face, “you’re fine. It will probably go away—just a little infection. But go to the doctor. Let him tell you you’re okay.” He kissed me and rolled over. I moved towards him and spooned him.
The trouble was that I had tried to call my doctor… three times, but I was embarrassed. What if it was something?
Four days later…
“Good to see you, Steve,” the doctor said.
“You too, doctor,” I lied. I was scared shitless.
Evading formalities, I cut to the chase. “Do you have the results?”
I had gone to see the doctor the day after Peter and I had talked. Today I was getting the test results.
“Yep,” he said. He opened the chart and I held my breath.
“All clear,” he said.
“What,” I asked in shock, “I don’t have anything?”
“Nothing,” the doctor assured me.
“Well,” I said lifting my hands up in the air, “what the fuck is wrong with me?”
The doctor clicked his pen and began writing a prescription. “Well,” he said, “it seems like a simple infection. I’m going to prescribe you an antibiotic. Sometimes urine can cause this. But it seems as if something rubbed against the tip of the penis and irritated it.”
And then it hit me. Commando. A week ago, I wore my jeans but I didn’t wear any underwear because I didn’t have any clean. I went totally commando—balls in the breeze, so to speak. I remember that morning when I put the jeans on they felt a bit funny, but I thought nothing of it. I told the doctor this.
“Yep,” he said, “that could be entirely possible.”
Awesome. I think guys that don’t wear underwear are sexy as hell. But NO! I can’t do that because I’ll get a DICK INFECTION!!! Fuck me.
That afternoon I told Peter the story and he just laughed. In fact we both laughed. Here I had agonized for over a week because I was too lazy to wash my underwear.
The most interesting part of the whole experience for me was that I automatically assumed the worst. Why do we do that? I try not to look for the negative in others; I always look for what’s going right in them. Perhaps I had to learn to think about myself in a more optimistic way and, more importantly, to be better about doing my own laundry.
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Years after moving from Oklahoma, Steve Prince is still acclimating to the gay scene in Los Angeles—he’s a slow learner. By trial and error and a lot of sex, his mission is to make the uncomfortable, comfortable. Also it should be known that he is gayer than butt sex.
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Previously, on A Gay In The Life:
The Birds and The Birds
Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears—Oh My!
Going Public
Christmas in July
Luck Be A Lady Tonight
I Left My Heart In Oklahoma
As Luck Would Have It
Shock & Awe
Blame It On Britney
The Unending Journey
Makin’ Copies
Bullets and Bracelets… and Lube
To Tell The Truth…
Stars Aren’t Blind
The Dark Knight
Come As You Are
A Date?
A Happy Ending
Better Than Nothing
A Man With A Slow Hand
Taking The Long Way
Everybody Knows
Wake Me Up, Before Ya Go-Go
Definition
The Best
The Upper Hand
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
2000-Date
Dick The Halls
The Queer Dear
A Night At The Museum
A Conversation
I’m Just A Girl Who Can’t Say No
Change The Way You Feel
Kissing A Fool
Leo The Lamb
The Elephant In The Room
Zuckerman’s Famous Pig
A Birthday Surprise
The Sleepover-er
SP Phone Home
Out of the Frying Pan and into the Closet
What If…
Just Beat It
Intimate Portrait
Intimate Portrait (Part Deux)
Intimate Portrait (Part Trois)
State of Mind
The Age of Disbelief
A Man For All Seasons
Summer Lovin’
A-Men
The Urge
Gettin’ It Done
Here You Cum Again
Eye Of The Beholder
The Present
A Minute’s Pause
Brotherly Love
Ladies Who Lunch
Here Cums The Rain Again
Dinner For Two
Blow by Blow

Aug 29, 2009 By paperbagwriter 3 Comments