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From: HMS Victor Victorian <victorvictorian@hushunomail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.fan.utb.naughty-boy
Subject: Re: *Sigh* Blessing or Curse?
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Date: Sun, 28 Jul 2013 12:40:15 -0600
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On Sat, 27 Jul 2013 22:39:15 -0400, Doc NP-f31 wrote:
>On Sat, 27 Jul 2013 15:46:00 -0600, HMS Victor Victorian
><victorvictorian@hushunomail.com> wrote:
>
>>Dear Friends,
>>
>>Would you agree with, or dismiss my thoughts here?
>>
>>Once more, I have made a completely unexpected observation.
>>
>>This morning, intending to quickly do some hedge pruning before
>>getting off to the grocery, I set up my step ladder along the hedge
>>that seperates my flat from a neighbor's. As I stepped up to begin
>>trimming, I heard the sound of the young children next door. The
>>family had recently purchased them a tram-pou-line (how American!) and
>>their children, two small boys and two small girls, had taken to it
>>with gusto.
>>
>>Now the hedge is fairly tall, but not particularly thick, and it is
>>little effort to spy through. So I did. As expected, I spotted the
>>four children, giggling as they sailed up through the air and then
>>down again, their shirts and dungarees flapping.
>>
>>What I did not expect to see was a fifth child take flight with them
>>... a brown boy of raven hair, a bit chubby about the tummy, perhaps
>>seven or eight years old, probably of Indian extraction. What was
>>most notable was his attire. The brave lad (for morning can put the
>>chill on here) wore only a pair of blue rayon soccer shorts ... and
>>they were so large that when he leaped up, they fluttered about him
>>like a parachute.
>>
>>And when he came down and rebounded on the trampouline, the shorts
>>dropped to his hips, and then again rebounding, they dropped to his
>>thighs, and then thrice, they dropped right to his ankles.
>>
>>And he hadn't a stitch on beneath them.
>>
>>And then, giggling along with the other younger children, he pulled
>>them up and repeated his acrobatics. Bounding, to the hips, bounding
>>twice, to the thighs, and again down to the ankles, where he very
>>nearly lost them. At one point, he left them round his ankles and
>>stopped jumping long enough to bend over and expose the nether regions
>>of his rear quarters to his delighted playmates. Cheeky! (no pun
>>intended). He clearly was enjoying this scandalous behaviour.
>>
>>As were the neighbor's kids.
>>
>>And ...
>>
>>As was I, peering unseen through the hedge. I felt it a wonderfully
>>intimate moment, seeing this mischeivious imp in all his boyhood
>>beauty. My heart swelled and raced and I felt short of breath ... how
>>I desired to be closer to him! But it was impossible, of course, and
>>I finally forced myself, with quivering heart and trembling knees,
>>down the step ladder.
>>
>>And I thought, "Why, God ... why do you torture me so? That you should
>>allow me to see such delectable boyhood yet again, and feel desperate
>>love (or at the very least lust) unrequitted yet again!"
>>
>>And I determined, my heart still pounding as I drove to the grocery,
>>that it was a curse. A bloody curse!
>>
>>Nevertheless, should I again hear them on the trampouline, I wouldn't
>>hesitate to climb up that step ladder.
>>
>>Most Sincerely,
>>
>>HMS Victor Victorian, NP-g18
>>
>>
>>God Save the Queen.
>>God Bless the Prince of Wales.
>>God Preserve the Windsors.
>>Rule Britannia!
>
>Dearest Double V,
>
>Life is what you make of it, isn't it? And when it comes to your
>question, the answer is how do YOU see it?
>
>You see it as a curse.
>
>If I were in your place, I would see it as a blessing. A gift of rare
>beauty from the God of Boys Himself. Things like that, and much less
>risque, but no less beautiful, happen to me nearly every day. Rather
>than curse the beauty because I am denied access to it, I give thanks.
>And if I have the chance, I give the boy a smile to let him know he
>touched my heart, and to touch his too, if that is possible.
>
>This evening I was waiting for my pizzas to be ready at a local
>pizzeria. I sat in the lobby and caught glimpses of the beautiful boys
>that were eating in the dining room. There were three in my field of
>vision, t was heaven. Suddenly, a fourth came from around the corner.
>A little fellow, probably five, named Julian (I pay attention), who
>was in his own little realm. He had green eyes and close cropped wavy
>hair, a cute little imp. I was filled with adoration and as he caught
>my eye, I gave him my boysmile. It was a warm and genuine smile. He
>saw me and when he realized that the smile was for him, he cocked his
>head slightly and returned the smile sweetly. We connected in that
>moment. It was beauty. It was harmless. But it had meaning to us both.
>I wanted to sweep him up in my arms and hug him, maybe tickle him so
>that he would laugh with delight. But I could not and would not. Do I
>curse the forces that gave me this love for boys? No. I am thankful
>for the beauty I am shown. Like you, VV, I am shown beauty that others
>cannot see. I welcome it and I show my appreciation to the boys with a
>smile. Sometimes that smile has led to other things, real friendships.
>Sometimes it can change a young life. One time it saved a life.
>
>You handle your boylove in a coccoon that you have woven to keep
>yourself, and others safe. That is admirable, it is a good strategy.
>If you must curse the God of Boys, then do so. But you are not
>diminished by being who you are. You are a fine man. You put boys
>first. You love them as you are able, with distance, and in your
>heart.
>
>I see through your eyes and I see the beauty you described. A vivid
>picture. Would that I was there with you to share the moment. But we
>share it here and that will do.
>
>Much love,
>
>Doc
>NP-f31
Dearest Doc,
Thank you for such a generous and heartfelt reply. There are times,
indeed, when I feel my affections are a curse ... for the very reasons
that I explained above. Yet at other times, I feel and felt blessed.
I felt blessed when, years ago, boys I had taught and come to know,
would come and visit me.
I felt blessed when a young lad threw his arms round my neck and on
occasion (as if he could divine my most secret affections) press his
hips against me in embrace while giving me a sly giggle.
I felt blessed to see so many, many nine, ten and eleven year old boys
nude showering in the gym after swim lessons, always using a vast
amount of shampoo, which bubbling suds ran sensuously down their
backs and oozed over the curves of their bums, and how they cavorted
in the showers and the changing room in a most suggestive way. I
remember one little fellow hilariously parading about, demonstrating
his portable "towel rack" to the hoots and hollers and delights of his
classmates. There was another, a beautifully brown nine-year-old lad
(I have a special affection for brown), who lathered himself so
thoroughly that he looked like a biscuit slatered in cream. Soon the
floor was frothing slippery with soap and it was all we could do to
keep our feet. Conversely, he made the best of it, and threw himself
onto the tiles and began gleefully sliding about on his tummy, from
wall to wall to wall. I noted the drain was set in the center of the
floor, and I very much hoped it wouldn't snag his penis right off!
Of course, it didn't ... although had he got stuck, I would have
gladly helped free him with a generous application of more soap!
I am blessed with these memories ... and more, but even now I heave a
sigh. Ah! Such sweetness!
And my heart aches.
Oh ... and I did get up on the step ladder again, but as I expected, I
was not blessed with a repeat of the previous day's antics. Just as
well!
Most sincerely in affection,
Victor
God Save the Queen.
God Bless the Prince of Wales.
God Preserve the Windsors.
Rule Britannia!
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