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Six months later, Flex and Ernesto stood as a testament to true interracial gay love. They didn’t flaunt their sexuality but they certainly didn’t hide it either. All of his friends in Brooklyn disowned him, wouldn’t speak to him again. They would have been a little more tolerant of the idea if Flex hadn’t been Black but they couldn’t get it out of their minds that their friend, their paesano, was the bitch to a black guy. It was beyond their comprehension that the two were far more than top and bottom, they were reciprocal, versatile lovers with no roles or labels.
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