We were in junior high PE class. I was over by the lockers when he came out of the showers. I had never seen him, or at least never really looked at him, naked before.
He paused a few feet from me, facing away at an angle, making his preparations to get dressed. I hadn't dared to stare at him when he came from the shower, but now I would let my gaze rest on him for brief moments, taking in his slim frame, well-shaped legs and nice butt. What a piece of nature's poetry he was! He was the first boy I had ever really looked at naked and the best-looking boy in that class, even with his clothes on.
I didn't get to see the rest of him, but I imagined it being as handsome as what I had seen. If he had known my later musings on the idea of the two of us jacking each other off he would probably have freaked out, but in those imaginings of mine he would enjoy it and so would I. It wasn't a great stretch to massage my package and pretend it was his, or to pretend it was his hands on mine.
I would wonder about his own masturbation: what positions he liked, what kind of sounds he made and who he thought about (did he ever think of other boys?). I would wonder if his sister ever peeked at him or vice-versa (maybe she could have told me what the rest of him looked like). Anyway, in those few brief moments I got a glorious spectacle of that beautiful young god of a classmate, and I did a lot with the memory.