I was thirteen, almost fourteen. I lived in a smallish country village in the southern U.K. that was so small we barely had a market. Nothing to do but make up games with my friends. No computers or cell phones or such things back then. Just the tee-vee.
I was a typical Brit boy, with blond hair and blue eyes, rather thin, but growing taller almost by the day. A few freckles. At the time, I bore a remarkable resemblance to the boy who played Ronald on the Fawlty Towers episode Gourmet Night. For you non-Brits, I even sounded very much like him.
I wouldn't say I was particularly popular, but I wasn't an oddball either. I had several friends I played with as I grew up. We were all different ages, as there weren't many kids at all in that tiny village. By the time I was thirteen, I was ahead of my friends in that I was taller, stronger, my balls were dropped, my cock was growing fast and getting hard all the time and I actually had hair growing around it. The very best part was the stuff I squirted now. It was both fascinating and wonderful. I never let a drop of it go to waste.
It was a very difficult time. There I was, hormones raging, and none of my friends understood. They were all younger than me, the few kids in that village that weren't older and able to drive or get a ride with the other older boys. And there was no way I could tell them how interested I was growing in boys.
Then I had to go spend part of the summer with my grands in another tiny little village many miles from my home and my friends. I brought my bike, in case, and what else I could, because I knew there wasn't anything to do in that town either, especially as I didn't know anybody there. Hell, there weren't even any kids around my age that I knew of.
I was out in front of my grands' house one day, bored beyond words, when I saw this cute boy ride by on his bike. I was interested in boys, and this boy was particularly interesting. He was older than me, at least fourteen if not fifteen. He was definitely more developed than me by far.
He reminded me of the guy in James At Fifteen, Lance Kerwin. Straight blond hair, blue eyes, firm jaw and features, same thin lips and nose.
I noticed him riding his bike past the house most days. I had no idea where he went, or why. I only knew that shortly after dinner he would ride past, ignoring me for the most part.
I don't have to tell you I thought Lance Kerwin was dead sexy. I'd watched every episode of James At Fifteen as well as James At Sixteen. For obvious reasons. I had a major crush on many boys on television. Christopher Knight (Peter Brady) was a frequent imaginary lover, as was Jimmy Baio as Billy Tate in SOAP, Phillip McKeon who was Tommy on Alice, and Eric Scott who played Ben Walton. There were many others, too, not just Americans.
Yeah, I was a tee-vee kid, completely. American television programs were fantastic, and I often went out of my way to catch every episode of those and many other shows. When I hit puberty, that got far worse.
So when I saw a Lance Kerwin lookalike riding his bike by the house nearly every day, it more than just piqued my interest.
I was lonely, of course, so I decided to make the effort to talk to him. Maybe we could be friends. If not, at least I could get a good close-up look at him so I would have more to work with when I wanked at night. So, one day, after dinner, I waited by the gate for him to come by.
He did. He was wearing a blue shirt and dark-blue short shorts. I stepped to the curb and waited for him to get closer. As he did, I could see his legs pumping up and down, and I got a quick glimpse of his white briefs, and the rounded bulge there as well.
Something was roused by the sight. All my plans to casually say hello sort of evaporated.
"You want something?" he said as he slowed and stopped in front of me.
The sight of his white-clad package peeking out from beneath those blue shorts held my sight like I was mesmerized.
"Hey!"
He didn't shout it, only said it rather firmly.
"I said, you want something?" he repeated.
"I, uh, I was just wondering where you go," I asked, forcing my eyes up to his face.
Oh, yes, so very much like Lance! I felt my heart hammering in my chest and my face going hot.
He obviously looked me up and down. I dared to return the examination. Gawd, that white-clad bulge beneath those short shorts... the smooth skin of his inner thighs all the way up to those white briefs... wow!
