John, at 14

So Let me Describe John

I’ve gone into some detail in the page you came here from, but I’m going to try to paint a picture of him as he was when I first met him.

You know already that he was my height, with slightly darker blond hair, but I haven’t managed to capture anything of his being in the description.

Imagine, if you will, a blank set of modelling clay, and let’s build a life size model of my beautiful friend. Let’s start with the pure form;

Take one boy, and make him slim, with square shoulders, straight legs with those long muscles you have for stamina, not pure power, but with slight definition to the muscles, Give him proportionate feet, with toes to match, and keep the proportions exactly as on the best classical statues.

Join the legs to the torso with a beautiful, tight, taut bum, not large, not small, and flowing beautifully into the back - a straight back, with the spine just visible, especially when he bends forward.

On the shoulders, place a medium long, slim neck, and place the most exquisite, cheeky, smiling, laughing face that you have ever seen on the head which sits confidently on the neck.

Move down the chest, and also see the arms, slim, but powerful, and the hands, with that special dry palm which I just long even today to be touched by, the stomach the waist, and such a delicate, perfect navel. Now get a good lungfull of air, and move down to an almost hairless, beautiful, uncut slim, smooth cock, just starting to fill out with imminent maturity, and two perfectly oval balls, held tightly beneath. There’s just the slightest hint of a wisp of hair, oddly dark, almost black - totally unexpected

Breathe out, but don’t look too long, or he’ll notice you staring.

All over the arms, mainly the arms, those slim, powerful "I want to be held by them" arms, see the down of soft, long, blond, furry hair. It looks so soft. It needs to be stroked, but you daren’t stroke it for fear of startling him. It’s like looking at a faun from a well constructed hide - you can look, but you must keep oh so quiet and not touch.

The back has the same fur, and a little on the legs. To the face, now, with a slim face, more narrow than round, but square at the same time. That mouth. Oh the lips are smiling, and they are drawn slightly apart to show perfect white teeth. He laughs, and the eyes, blue-green, smile and laugh at you. Soft cheeks - no hint of the beard to grow later, slightly reddened, and eyebrows of almost black - such a contrast. Strong cheekbones, softened by the beauty of his skin, so touchable, so strokable, so in need of kissing, like those lips - the joy just to brush them with your own. The bliss of a light kiss being acknowledged, being (gasp) returned, the tip of his tongue just flashing between your lips for an instant, and a smile to acknowledge tongue-touch. You’re dreaming - it isn’t real, but it feels good to dream.

The eyes are always smiling. This boy is the very essence of fun - he seems to know something that you don’t, always teasing, just out of reach. The nose is straight, small, but in proportion with the face, and slightly upturned at the tip - it adds to his beauty many times.

The hair is sleek, with the very slightest wave to it, but mainly straight, across the forehead, an open forehead, and running just clear of the ears all the way down the back of his neck, touching the place where the shirt collar would be were he clothed. To run your fingers through it, to ruffle it, then stroke it back into place

He is so confident as he stands there, almost aware of you, but unaware at the same time, not posing, just being there, held in time, held for you, but out of reach. To be loved by such a boy as this; to be held by such a boy, to be kissed, perhaps more . . . .

Just being here makes your breathing shallow and short, and your heart pound so loud he must hear, and hearing run away.

He is almost unaware of his beauty. He knows that there is something about him which is special, no unique, but he can’t quite track it down. He is a real boy, an ordinary boy, who plays tough sport, who gets into trouble, who is vulnerable and strong at the same time.