Peter

I first heard about it last year.

Oliver told me.

But we'd been friends… lovers… I don't know what… for nearly six months before he mentioned it.

I guess he waited that long because he didn't know how I'd take it.

And that worried him.

After all, I was about to discover that, whenever he was short of money, Oliver took a 30-minute bus ride out of our home city Prague to a beautiful stretch of shore along a big lake.

And that wasn't because he loved the countryside but because he loved getting money from the rich foreigners who go there every summer to find willing and eager-to-please young Czech boys.

To say I was amazed would be an understatement. To look at Oliver, you'd think he'd be the least likely kid ever to get involved in that sort of thing.

Pure innocence.

Pure in-no-sense, more like.

It was all true.

Oliver showed me the guys' addresses and phone numbers (though he assured me that he never actually used them). There were also a few snapshots, suggesting that his new friends had cornered the world market in facelifts and hair dye.

Most were Germans, with a few Frenchmen, a Russian and an American. There was even, unbelievably, a Paraguayan ballet dancer to bring up the rear, so to speak.

To confirm all this, Oliver pulled an appropriately thick bundle of Deutschmarks, Francs and Dollars out of his pocket, along with a particularly impressive looking 10,000 Paraguayan Guarani note - of which he was particularly proud until a Prague bureau de change told us that it was worth about two American dollars.

Just as I could never quite pin down my relationship with Oliver - were we lovers or merely friends who enjoyed sex together? - I can't really explain now why we eventually drifted apart.

I think that he still believes to this day that it's because he told me about his whoring to the foreign gay guys.

But that's not the real reason at all.

Because, unknown to him, I'd been doing the same thing.

But, unlike him, my excuse wasn't that I needed the money.

I just enjoyed it.

On a bad day it was more likely to be a fat, greasy, balding and chain-smoking Russian. You probably already know that they exist in real life too.

Often just getting that shirt off would be enough on its own and within a couple of minutes a new friend would be sitting alongside me.

On a good day it might be a handsome young American tourist. Bronzed, well-shaped, hot and hung (oh yes, they exist in real life too, you know, not just in porno movies).

 But sometimes, if competition among the boys - even for the Russians! - was tough, I'd need to do a little more.

That's when I'd strip down to underwear or swimming trunks. Then I'd sit back down on my
sheet to see what was going to happen next.

If any of you guys reading this have ever picked a hustler up, I guess you think it's pretty hard work sometimes…

But just try to think about it from the point of view of boys like me.

There's all the effort of looking good… finding somewhere where you're likely to run into the guys who are hoping to run into you… trying to look hot and available but simultaneously innocent (lots of guys like that - and, in any case, you never know when a potential trick might be a cop)…

Haggling over cash - unless, of course, it's the handsome young American tourist!…

And then having to pretend undying admiration not only for a fat, balding trick but also for his run-down, dirty apartment.In any case, by that stage, more often than not, I've scored.

But a job's a job, I guess, and like all good actors I just smile through it all and try to look as happy about it as I can.

Pushing the trunks down is a good way of attracting attention at the lake, although some boys won't do it. They think it's seen as a mark of desperation and encourages tricks to think you'll be cheap.

I don't worry about that. I just enjoy the warm sunshine.

 Bingo.

The jackpot.

But once in a while I have to resort to more blatant "advertising".

I'll be letting you see exactly what I mean right here next week…

Or, of course, in the meantime you can always come and find me - and maybe even Oliver too - down at the lake.