On Sun, 19 Sep 2010 18:40:04 -0400, NP-f31 wrote:
>Hello Fortsters,
>
>I'd like to share some thoughts with you about my recent boy
>exchanges. I was in my hometown this past weekend for the funeral
>of a friend's father. My visit coincided with the start of the
>county agricultural fair, the biggest in the state and one of the
>biggest in the country. It was a big deal and families were out in
>force. It was a gorgeous early autumn evening and the boys were all
>wearing shorts and tees. I was with my Dad who is a long time
>resident of the area. He knows pretty much everyone he sees, so I
>had lots of free time to boywatch. We were in line to order
>something to eat at a tent run by a local seafood restaurant.
>Directly in front of me were TWIN blonde haired, blue eyed boys
>about ten years old. They were wearing purple sleeveless tees (not
>quite wifebeaters) that showed off their well tanned arms. Fine
>blonde hairs were visible on their tanned, bare legs. These two
>boys were absolutely breathtaking. They had platinum blonde hair
>with golden highlights and perfect smiles. They were identical
>twins but had completely opposite personalities. One boy (I never
>caught their names and I normally do) was shy (or perhaps well
>behaved) and he stood, for the most part, beside his Dad, holding
>hands. The other boy was much more adventurous. He explored
>everything of interest in the general area of the waiting line. He
>went off to explore the kiddie ride adjacent to the seafood tent.
>His twin watched him, almost jealously, while holding Dad's hand.
>The adventurous twin came closer and beckoned his brother to
>explore with him. He almost went, but Dad called his wayward son
>back to the line. He returned faithfully and they were both there
>treating me to scenes of unforgettable beauty. The pioneer twin was
>in constant motion, a poster child for hyperactivity. Looking
>around, making unedited comments, digging in his crotch, whispering
>to his brother, returning my smile and then watching me to figure
>out what my smile was all about. Hands back to the crotch, tweaking
>his foreskin most likely, definitely jerking some meat though, and
>then he was off again. The people in the line next to us were
>talking to my Dad and not paying attention to the moving line. The
>pioneer twin walked backwards with a big smile and was suddenly in
>line ahead of them. He looked back at his brother and Dad with a
>wicked smile and motioned for his brother to come and join him. Dad
>said not to break in line, but the trailblazer turned away and
>something interesting caught his attention. He pointed excitedly at
>lobsters in a tank and that was too much, the shy brother joined him.
>They talked excitedly and privately as twins often do with their hands
>up and fingers next to their mouths. Soon the people in front of
>them had been served and it was their turn, linebreakers that they
>were. They motioned frustratedly to their Dad who, seeing that the
>others were still talking to my Dad, stepped forward and ordered.
>
>The rest of the evening provided many treats of a similar nature
>with boys of every stripe. The young teens usually caught my eye,
>with their longish hair and the glistening sheen that coats their
>adolescent faces. Like all boys that age they were focused on one
>another. What I like best is the eleven and twelve year olds who
>are hanging out with the 13 and 14 year olds and trying to be cool.
>These boys catch my eye because they're generally so much cuter
>than their mates. They tend to have longer hair and whatever
>fashion statement they are making looks better on them. Their
>voices haven't changed yet and puberty hasn't put their nose or
>feet out of proportion with everything else. In most cases they are
>experiencing their first real taste of independence, out with their
>peer group and away from their parents. They are SO into the moment
>and are particularly less self aware than their older friends. I
>remember those magic moments, I remember feeling grown up and free
>and thinking that this was what it was all about to be a teen. I
>remember my older cousins at the beach, trying to impress girls.
>They were in seventh and eighth grade and said to one another, I
>can pass for a junior and you can pass for a sophomore. I was 12
>and had no idea what they were talking about. What can I be? I
>asked. They looked at me and said dismissively, you can tell them
>you're a freshman. I didn't know that that was either, but I knew
>it couldn't have been as cool as a junior or a sophomore...
>
>The younger boys also held a fascination for me. The toddlers, some
>in strollers, were big eyed at the sights of carnival rides and
>cotton candy. By eight o'clock they were nodding off in the
>strollers or being carried by their Dads. Gotta love the little
>dudes.
>
>The four, five and six year olds were whipped up into an excited
>frenzy. Some so excited that they danced in place, grabbed their
>weiners unconsciously or pointed in every direction. You could tell
>those with active imaginations because they would talk, probably to
>themselves and their attention would swing like a pendulum from the
>rides, or the closest temptation, to their parents to comment or
>ask for something. And in each moment you could almost see the
>excited little dramas playing out in their heads. Their expressions
>betrayed every nuance of happy emotion.
>
>This afternoon I had a similar experience at a football game. It
>was HOT! and the boys were out in force wearing loose clothing. The
>beauty was everywhere and almost too good to be true. Everywhere I
>looked there were cute boys. At every game I've ever been to, there
>are always a couple of boys (sometimes it's mine) who are up and
>down the stairs going from their seat to concessions or the
>bathroom and back. They can't sit still! So every few minutes I was
>treated to another glimpse of beauty. The best part though was a
>four year old named Grady who was at his first game. He was about
>three rows in front of me and had a big foam 'hand' on his right
>hand. He had been listening to me and those around me yelling, 'Go
>Defense!' and during a lull in the action on the field. I heard a
>small little voice say, 'Go Defense!' and his foam hand shot into
>the air like a salute. I thought that was classic so I yelled, 'You
>go little man! Show them how to cheer!' He turned around with a
>sweet smile on his face, but didn't locate me visually. He said
>excitedly and a little tentatively, 'Go Defense!' And me and those
>around me who had seen him cheer yelled, 'GO DEFENSE!' Seeing he had
>both an audience and some power, he yelled defiantly, 'GO DEFENSE' and
>by now every one in our general area responded to him, 'GO DEFENSE'!
>Our defense made a good play and there was a roar and it startled
>Grady. He looked around to figure out was happening. I yelled 'Do it
>again Little Man!' and his Dad told him, 'Cheer Grady!' and he did and
>we answered. It was great to see the happy expression on his face.
>When we forced a punt everyone around Grady was patting him on the
>head or giving him five. I was pleased to see boypower in action.
>
>I thought you might appreciate the beauty I saw. It's all around you
>too, all you have to do is pay attention.
>
>Stay Safe,
>
>Doc
>NP-f31
Dear Doc,
Thank you for this nice offering. I'm compelled to tell one of my
own, which happened to me just recently.
Two Saturdays ago, I went to market, as is my habit. As I was
finishing up, I noticed a very thin and young woman enter, bring in
three children, two boys and a girl, of about eight, six and four
years respectively.
At the risk of sounding boorishly elite, I would note that the woman
seemed of the more abandoned classes, in a halter top and arms
tattooed. The children were not especially well-clothed. What was
particularly noticeable, was that the six year old boy, a thin and
energetic fellow with brown hair and a gammon face, wore no shirt or
shoes at all ... very unusual here, to say the least.
Now, I've not had a little friend in years and years, and have dearly
missed that. So when I saw the little shirtless, shoeless fellow, I
edged my cart over to get a better look. Siding up to him, I looked
down and saw that his only attire ... and I mean ONLY ... was a pair
of baggy jeans that sagged down, and I could very clearly see down
inside them ... a wonderfully rounded bottom and, in front, just the
base of his willy.
Shortly he followed his mother off, and the jeans began to slip down
over his bottom, so he was compelled while walking to hold them up.
But when he stopped, he'd allow them to sag down again.
I can tell you that I was immediately reminded of how much I missed my
little friends. For my heart was racing in my throat, and I felt
quite woosy ... indeed nearly faint, and swept with affection and
desire. I followed them at some distance ... hoping he'd lose his
grasp on his pants altogether and that they'd fall to his knees.
Realising the silliness of my behaviour, I purchased my groceries and
walked home, feeling at once exhilarated, nervous, despondent and
lonesome.
A blessing ... and a curse.
Sincerely,
HMS Victor Victorian, NP-g18
God Save the Queen.
God Bless the Prince of Wales.
God Preserve the Windsors.
Rule Britannia!
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