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Leigh wasn't the first guy at school who'd caught my eye but he probably was one of the more significant. He'd joined the class mid-year as his parents had just moved back home from abroad so there was a touch of exoticism about him having lived at the farthest reaches of my geography. Strictly speaking he should have been in the year ahead but he'd been put back given he'd not covered a broad portion of our syllabus. So when a lot of my classmates were still crawling through puberty he'd already assigned that stage to history.
He was probably the first guy with brown eyes I'd actually stopped to notice. Brown eyes, large hands, freckles... Fit. Sport came naturally to him - he was always on one pitch or another fighting over possession of a ball, not mattering if he got bloodied in the process- winning was the only goal. I'd begun to fancy him as an older-sybling type when my fantasy was cruelly punctured. Fearless in sport when it came to personal confrontation or bullying Leigh was a complete wuss. He'd run away in the opposite direction rather than risk a scene. Sometimes I despaired of him, but we became good friends. I'd have done anything for this guy but things never progressed beyond the platonic. Doesn't mean he wasn't always in my dreams.
Despite the fact we were in the same class and assigned sports at the same time the most revealing thing I'd seen him wear was a pair of black shorts. Somehow I never managed to be near his changing cubicle when the time came. The first time I actually saw him shirtless was after a football match in the summer. Some friends and I had stood on the sidelines for support and at the end of the match as he came over to us he pulled his shirt off. His chest was completely smooth, no happy trail or dusting of hair. Just well-defined pectorals and a pair of small nipples. When he raised his arms to wave I saw a smudge of fair hair in his armpits.
Something must have registered on my face because Davey who was with me gave me the most knowing look. With hindsight his brain must have been following along similar hagiographic lines, but that's a different tale. Needless to say that was probably the first night I actually masturbated thinking of Leigh's perfect body.
The jackpot came much later. We'd got assigned to the same swimming lesson but other than admiring him from afar in the pool I had no intention of loitering near him in the showers in case my hard on gave me away, so I just stood under the faucet for a moment or two with my eyes closed then headed for the benches.
Almost immediately he followed me in. To this day I've no idea who else was around there. It's all a blank. The only thing I can remember is Leigh bending forward towards me slightly and slipping off his blue trunks.
He was already hard. Actually that probably doesn't do him justice: he was erect; the veins in his shaft were swollen and clear to see. It bobbed in the air just a couple of inches away from my face, a long pale shaft and a bare helmet. I couldn't figure out why his foreskin wasn't covering his glans like everyone else's seemed to. This was before I learned anything about circumcision but I don't think he was cut - I could clearly see his frenulum running down to a ring of skin beneath the flare of his smooth head. What also intrigued me was the dryness of the skin either side of his banjo string. It was the same purple colour mine got when hard but looked as if it was used to being out in the air.
That was the first and last time I saw him naked. Every time I saw him after that I ached to be able to ask him about his bare glans and his wanking habits but never got up the courage.
But it kept me busy for months. I became semi-obsessed with his cock. It was the coolest one I'd ever seen and I tried to emulate his look by pulling my foreskin back at every opportunity. Never worked of course. If I did it during the day the feel of my underwear against my helmet was too distracting to keep it that way for long. If I tried it in bed it either slid forward again or after lying there with the sheets rubbing on my head for hours I'd be so turned on I'd have to wank to be able to doze off, with the result that my skin would return to normal as I got limp.
I'm still fascinated by short foreskins. I'm still in regret for lost opportunities.