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Strawberry Blonde Hairs

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I had many crushes on other boys, but none as strong or lasting as on a boy named Bob Lee. He was tall, with strawberry blonde hair, and was the first of our group to show the signs of manhood.


As I approached puberty, and passed through it, I had many crushes on other boys, but none as strong or lasting as on a boy named Bob Lee. He was tall, with strawberry blonde hair, and was the first of our group to show the signs of manhood. In gym class, naked, his body stood out, with strawberry fur surrounding, ringing a penis that was twice as large as mine or any of our other friends' and a ball sack larger than my father's. I could not help but stare, and seeing him naked often gave me an erection and, strangely, the desire to show my erection to him.

Bob Lee was a good Christian boy, and took no notice, I thought, of my attentions, and we shortly went to different schools. Separated from the daily sight of his naked puberty, I nevertheless masturbated dreaming of touching his hard, straight penis and grasping his balls in my palm. I would occasionally see him at baseball games, where even a loose jersey could not conceal that his beautiful genitals had continued to grow and fill out his crotch.

Then, by coincidence, a friend invited me on a day hike with his scout troupe, and who should be there, arriving late, driven by his mother, than Bob Lee himself. The pang between my legs returned, and I made no effort to conceal my excitement. On the hike, I monopolized his attention, babbling endlessly about anything-well almost anything-that came into my mind. In short sleeves, and then shirtless, his nipples showed hard in the cold, and I was mesmerized by a sprig of light hair protruding from under his arm.

After lunch, we descended the small hill as a ragged group, in twos and threes, and Bobby and I found ourselves well separated from the group. As we crossed a small footpath, he suddenly told me to follow him to a favorite spot of his. I was awestruck at his sudden attention, and the sudden feeling of intimacy I felt from him. The awesome thought that he might actually like me, that he DID like me, came tumbling into my head and made me delirious. I followed behind him, head spinning and body suddenly trembling, as we went deeper into the bushes.

When we got to his spot, a wide clearing in bushes, hidden from view, but windy, and I suddenly blurted out, 'Do you masturbate??' I was immediately terrified at what I'd said. I wished so much it was true, but believed that he must think that masturbation, and surely my masturbation drooling at the memory of his pubescent crotch, must be sinful.

And then he said, 'Yes, that's what I do when I come here.' The wind was sucked from my ears, and I could hear nothing further but the coursing of blood in my ears. He looked at me, shocked, perhaps afraid of what he'd said. 'You do, do it, don't you?'

'Yes,' I confessed. Some weeks later, he told me that he saw my erections in school, and would position himself so that he could stare, too. But now, years of unspoken lust, busting inside of us, continued unspoken.

He went over to a bush, and pulled out some lube and magazines. 'We have to hurry, my mom will be the first to pick us up.' Wordlessly, he pulled down his pants and his beautiful cock sprang forth. As he coated his cock with lube he looked at me, and I withered in front of him and dropped my pants. He handed me the lube and sat on a small boulder, motioning me to sit next to him. I almost tripped on my pants getting there.

He was already breathing hard and stroking his cock faster and faster and before I hardly stroked at all, he began grunting and huge globs of cum shot from his dick. After a moment, he sighed and looked at me, 'Hurry up and cum...we've gotta get down the hill!' I was so nervous and flustered at his attention, my cock was hardly stiff, and it was a long, embarrassing stroke before my own gobs of cum joined his on the ground. He'd already pulled on his pants, and I rapidly did mine, still oozing cum into my underpants, and we took off down the hill.

We didn't talk, and when we rushed in, most of the others were already there, and his mom was sitting in her car. He turned to me quickly, and said, 'Can we meet here Saturday morning?' and was gone before I could do anything but nod in agreement.



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