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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13818
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Over the last couple of weeks I've met four young teenagers, all of whom have surprised me in a way. One I know well enough to have a conversation with, the others approached me yesterday at a bus stop to check that they were reading the timetable correctly.
Each of them is differently good looking, each is lithe, each is, technically, attractive. I'll get back to that.
One is the son of one of my neighbours. He's not only a delight to look at, he's truly stunning with light brown eyes and light but not bright fair hair sweeping across his forehead and a lovely smile, but he has a voice.
I don't mean he's not dumb. I mean that he is totally at home at 14 years old with a full adult conversation, has opinions which he justifies, and is unafraid to marvel at things he's never seen or heard of before. We've often talked, here, about the inability for adults to relate to and converse with kids. Not so with this one.
Of course, since he is the son of a neighbour I will see him again. Nifty stories would have him coming to ask for advice because he's gay, of course, and I would resist manfully until he had his way with me.
The other three were sitting waiting for over an hour having missed a previous bus, or by its having not arrived. They were doing quiet pissing about, upsetting no-one but in a world of their own. They were going to the beach. They were polite, suntanned, outgoing, cheerful, and each very easy on the eye. They were 13/14 too.
If this were Nifty I would obviously have offered them a lift while stopping off to allow them to seduce me. All teenage boys, as we know, are just dying to be shagged senseless by an older man.
Now that is the thing. Techncially they are attractive. If I were their age I'd be wanking myself stupid over their images in my head. I can see their faces, each of the four of them as I type this.
The thing is, despite seeing imperfect perfection in each of these boys, none of them created a loin stirring.
I'm rather pleased about that.
Instead of feeling in danger of needing to restrain myself, and instead of getting the feeling of total verbal confusion I get when faced with a beauteous youth, I was able to speak, look, smile and not look like I was drooling. I confess I am a little in love with the neighbour lad, but he needs to be a boy, not a sex object, and I feel fatherly, not loverly.
I don't need, nor even want, to see any of them with fewer clothes than they were wearing. I'd look, of course I'd look, but it's not a thing of need any more. I'm sure they look as imperfectly perfect naked as they do clothed. But it's not anything all consumingly important any more.
It's been a supreme effort to raise my sights above the arrested development of my teenage years. I think its working.
[Updated on: Sun, 12 September 2010 23:39]
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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