DISCLAIMER: The following work is pure fiction. Do not read anything more than you see into it, because this cigar is just a cigar. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased is pure coincidence.
If you are offended by material that deals positively with homosexuality or with man/boy relationships, then do not read any further. While there is no sex or nudity in this story, if you are below the age of consent in your community, please do not read any further.
Absolutely no animals, children, members of repressed minority groups, or delicate equatorial ecosystems, and regrettably, no Republicans were harmed in the creation of this work.
THE AUTHOR OF THIS WORK RESERVES ALL RIGHTS. PLEASE DO NOT PUBLISH, REPRODUCE, ARCHIVE OR DISTRIBUTE WITHOUT EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION.
Phil At The Pool By marrauder390
It's the first week in July, and with temps in the high 80's to low 90's, it's obscenely hot by civilized Massachusetts standards, but perhaps still quite cold by Florida or California standards. The sun and the heat has filled the town pool with hordes of screaming, squealing boys and girls seeking respite from the heat, and not a few teenagers of both sexes in skimpy swimwear, seeking to be looked at and worshipped.
Phil had just entered the pool area, and before long, just about every girl, boy, woman AND man in that pool was looking at him. The silence was deafening as time dilated and all activity seemed to stop. About 15 years old, the boy stood at around 5'10", with cornhusk colored hair bleached to a fine summer-blond. Pale bluish-grey eyes peered out at the world under straight cut bangs. Somehow, despite his age, he looked vulnerable and innocent. Perhaps because of this, or because of some inner magnetism, he immediately seemed to take center stage, relegating everyone else at the pool to supporting roles. Nobody seemed to mind at all, not even those who had come to be looked at.
A slightly oversized t-shirt that had probably once been dark blue covered his upper body, but didn't hide his farm-boy build one tiny bit. He looked around, trying to spot someone, anyone, that he knew, and perhaps not seeing anyone, or perhaps realizing the stir that he was creating, he cast a nervous glance downward as a shy smile spread slowly across his face. His impromptu audience drank it up breathlessly.
Modestly, seeming quite embarrassed by the stir that he was creating, he selected a spot in the grass off in a corner. His seeming rejection of his sudden star-status served to draw attention to his manners. Without hearing him speak a word, it was suddenly quite obvious that this boy would say "sir" or "ma'am" whenever possible. Unaware that he was still the focus of just about everyone's attention, he slowly, and unselfconsciously shucked off the ripped, faded shirt revealing a body begging to be copied in sculpture.
The act of pulling the shirt over his head had tousled his rather fine, medium-length hair causing cornhusk-brown and summer blond hairs to stand out at odd angles all over, and especially around the whorl at the back of his head. The alarmingly unstylish condition of the boy's hair revealed a pair of exquisitely drawn eyebrows standing guard over his stunning bluish-grey eyes, now averted nervously downward over high Celtic cheekbones. Slowly, he slowly turned the t-shirt right-side-out, folded it and placed it on the ground, pausing to rub his perfectly-proportioned nose, completely oblivious to how his audience hung breathlessly on his every move. Kicking off his shoes, the slightest smile crossed his face, creating the promise of dimples and showing just a hint of perfect, snow-white teeth.
He unbuttoned his baggy bluejean shorts, and carefully slid them down, not in the impatient manner so common of boys his age, and not so slow as to draw attention to the act, but just slow enough to not bring down the board shorts hidden underneath. Despite his care, a good 2 or 3 inches of his pale, white rump would have been visible to anyone standing behind him. Those watching from the front felt their collective breath catch in their throats as his bluejean shorts drew the board shorts slowly down in front, revealing a good 5 inches of bare, white skin below his navel. Just in the nick of time, before any pubic hairs peeked out (or anything else, for that matter), the bluejean shorts were past the board shorts, and the boy had them off. Just as with the shirt, he slowly, carefully folded them up and then placed them in his bag along with the shirt and his sneakers.
The boy stood alone in a corner of the fenced in area around the pool, and started looking around again, seeking someone that he knew, someone that he could talk to. He was completely at ease, his motions graceful and unselfconscious. One hand rested at his side while the other drew idly up the pronounced cleft in his abs, his face lost in thought.
As he stood there, idly rubbing his flat but defined belly, the poolgoers began to take note of his body. They could see that his shoulders were still boyish, but showing great definition, the knobs at the tops of his arms showing the first hints of the shape they would one day have. They took note of his arms, both lean and muscular; each and every muscle clearly visible, and while larger than those of the local boys, they were still graceful boy's arms.
His chest and abs seemed to draw the most attention from this audience, and in truth, they represented the highest ideal in form for a boy of his age. The boy's chest muscles had a certain extremely defined look, but did not approach the shape that they would undoubtedly have as he got older. They were still a boy's pecs and lats, small in comparison to a man's, and somehow different in shape, yet so much larger than those of other boys his age. They seemed at once flat, but muscular and in their perfection of shape and symmetry, they naturally drew a viewer's eyes down to his perfectly defined abs and his ever-so-cute innie belly button. The boy's legs were as defined as his arms, but remained mostly hidden by the board shorts. Only the extreme definition of his knees and calves whispered the truth of how defined his legs were, hidden away from view as they were.
Still not finding who or what he was looking for, the boy left the grass, still oblivious to the stir that he was causing. Finding the high diving board unoccupied, he climbed the ladder with liquid grace, pausing briefly on the platform, then making his dive with a perfection of form and technique that would have drawn attention to him had he not already been at center stage. As he entered the water with the tiniest of splashes there was a small smattering of genuine applause that quickly stopped as poolgoers realized what they were doing. As Phil exited the water, his shorts rode down, and this time, his audience of poolgoers were treated to a few inches of bare, white rump. Not pausing to adjust his shorts or fluff them out in front (board shorts don't give anything away in front, even when wet!), he remounted the high dive and again dove off, this time achieving more arc before once again entering the water with the tiniest of splashes.
This continued for almost ten minutes, during which time only a very few of the pool's patrons had resumed their previous activities. Clearly, this boy was something special, and each and every poolgoer that still watched knew that on some level. They did not watch him because he had the most muscular body, for in truth, there were a few boys there around his age with the grossly overmuscled bodies of football players and wrestlers. They did not watch him for the brief show of rump cleavage as he left the water, for although he would hike up his board shorts only occasionally, there were several other boys there wearing speedos that clearly showed more skin. Whatever drew their attention to the boy, it was more than his stunning physical form, and more than mere sexuality.
Finally tiring of diving off the high board, the boy moved towards the shallow end, and pausing with one hand on his chin and the other cupping his elbow, he once again started looking around the pool, seeming to search for someone special, perhaps someone that he knew. Still not finding that for which he searched, his eyes drooped a bit, and the tiniest of sad looks stole across his face. Slowly, he made his way back to his patch of grass and his backpack, and began to fish his towel out when he was startled by a sharp tug a the back of his board shorts (revealing quite a bit of rump cleavage). Turning quickly and ready to flatten whoever had dared to tug at his shorts, he yelped in delight as he saw the man he had been looking for.
Only a few poolgoers had resumed their normal activities when the boy started his diving, and only one or two more had joined them when he finally stopped and stood there looking for someone. Most of the people at the pool were still watching the boy with rapt attention, with not even the slightest thoughts of being subtle. They felt sad, as he must have, when he seemed to not find the person he was looking for, and they felt anger when a well-built man approached the boy from behind and tugged mischievously at his shorts. Their feelings of outrage, anger, and indignation melted away at once as they saw the expression of pure love and adoration on the boy's face when he saw his friend. Many felt sad, many felt jealous, and quite a few wished that they themselves could care that much about someone, anyone, in their life. And when they saw this magical boy of 15 or so clamp the older man in a great big hug, joy and happiness evident on both their faces, many more felt a twinge of regret and sadness at not having something similar in their own lives.
Quite a few of the poolgoers continued to watch during that long afternoon, as the magical boy flitted impishly around the man on the grass, in the water, and on the deck. When he would speak, revealing a silky Georgian accent, some of the poolgoers would turn to the person closest to them and exclaim how they just KNEW that the boy had to be from the south, that boys in Massachusetts just didn't look or act that way. Others would completely stop what they were doing just to hear his voice.
As the boy capered around his friend, impishly teasing him, tugging at his shorts, and splashing him, he seemed to take on a glow that he hadn't possessed when he entered the pool, and even though he had been captivating then, he had become even more so. It was quite clear that he loved the man, and that the man loved him. When they finally left together, shortly before the pool closed for the afternoon, more than one poolgoer felt a twinge of jealousy for the pair.