I was thirteen, almost fourteen. I lived in a smallish country village in the southern U.K. that was so small we barely had a market. Nothing to do but make up games with my friends. No computers or cell phones or such things back then. Just the tee-vee.

I was a typical Brit boy, with blond hair and blue eyes, rather thin, but growing taller almost by the day. A few freckles. At the time, I bore a remarkable resemblance to the boy who played Ronald on the Fawlty Towers episode Gourmet Night. For you non-Brits, I even sounded very much like him.

I wouldn't say I was particularly popular, but I wasn't an oddball either. I had several friends I played with as I grew up. We were all different ages, as there weren't many kids at all in that tiny village. By the time I was thirteen, I was ahead of my friends in that I was taller, stronger, my balls were dropped, my cock was growing fast and getting hard all the time and I actually had hair growing around it. The very best part was the stuff I squirted now. It was both fascinating and wonderful. I never let a drop of it go to waste.

It was a very difficult time. There I was, hormones raging, and none of my friends understood. They were all younger than me, the few kids in that village that weren't older and able to drive or get a ride with the other older boys. And there was no way I could tell them how interested I was growing in boys.

Then I had to go spend part of the summer with my grands in another tiny little village many miles from my home and my friends. I brought my bike, in case, and what else I could, because I knew there wasn't anything to do in that town either, especially as I didn't know anybody there. Hell, there weren't even any kids around my age that I knew of.

I was out in front of my grands' house one day, bored beyond words, when I saw this cute boy ride by on his bike. I was interested in boys, and this boy was particularly interesting. He was older than me, at least fourteen if not fifteen. He was definitely more developed than me by far.

He reminded me of the guy in James At Fifteen, Lance Kerwin. Straight blond hair, blue eyes, firm jaw and features, same thin lips and nose.

I noticed  him riding his bike past the house most days. I had no idea where he went, or why. I only knew that shortly after dinner he would ride past, ignoring me for the most part.

I don't have to tell you I thought Lance Kerwin was dead sexy. I'd watched every episode of James At Fifteen as well as James At Sixteen. For obvious reasons.  I had a major crush on many boys on television. Christopher Knight (Peter Brady) was a frequent imaginary lover, as was Jimmy Baio as Billy Tate in SOAP, Phillip McKeon who was Tommy on Alice, and Eric Scott who played Ben Walton. There were many others, too, not just Americans.

Yeah, I was a tee-vee kid, completely. American television programs were fantastic, and I often went out of my way to catch every episode of those and many other shows. When I hit puberty, that got far worse.

So when I saw a Lance Kerwin lookalike riding his bike by the house nearly every day, it more than just piqued my interest.

I was lonely, of course, so I decided to make the effort to talk to him. Maybe we could be friends. If not, at least I could get a good close-up look at him so I would have more to work with when I wanked at night. So, one day, after dinner, I waited by the gate for him to come by.

He did. He was wearing a blue shirt and dark-blue short shorts. I stepped to the curb and waited for him to get closer. As he did, I could see his legs pumping up and down, and I got a quick glimpse of his white briefs, and the rounded bulge there as well.

Something was roused by the sight. All my plans to casually say hello sort of evaporated.

"You want something?" he said as he slowed and stopped in front of me.

The sight of his white-clad package peeking out from beneath those blue shorts held my sight like I was mesmerized.

"Hey!"

He didn't shout it, only said it rather firmly.

"I said, you want something?" he repeated.

"I, uh, I was just wondering where you go," I asked, forcing my eyes up to his face.

Oh, yes, so very much like Lance! I felt my heart hammering in my chest and my face going hot.

He obviously looked me up and down. I dared to return the examination. Gawd, that white-clad bulge beneath those short shorts... the smooth skin of his inner thighs all the way up to those white briefs... wow!

I got so hard.

"I go have some fun, what do ya think?" he said with a big, cute grin.

"Like what kind of fun?" I asked innocently.

I really had no idea.

He laughed, and then looked me up and down again. I did too. I couldn't resist. He was so cute and sexy!

"Visiting relatives?" he asked, nodding at the house behind me.

"My grands," I answered.

"Where you from?"

I told him.

"What's your name?"

"Lionel. What's yours?"

"Trevor. You're like, what, fourteen?" he asked.

"Yeah," I lied.

He smiled so cutely!

"You got a girlfriend?"

"Uh, no."

"Ever?"

"Uh, no, not really."

"What's not really mean?"

"It means, well, no, I never had a girlfriend."

"You want one?" he asked, now rocking his bike between his legs.

The seat was pushing his package up a bit, over and over, making it more obvious. I have no idea if he meant it to do that or not.

"Uh, maybe," I said slowly, not knowing at all what he was leading to - I was so innocent.

"So, you got a bike?"

"Sure."

"Wanna go see what I do for fun, since you're so curious?"

"Uh, sure, okay."

"Okay. Go get it."

I ran to my bike and back, already breathless.

"Come on," he said, and kicked off.

I rode along beside him, until we reached the woods on the edge of town where a little river ran through. He got off his bike and began walking down off the road into the swale. I followed. Then he went into the trees.

There, behind a thicket of brambles and bushes, was a little clearing. In the middle, canted and lopsided, was a wooden shed. It looked older than Christ himself. It had cracks and gaps and barely a roof. The door worked, though, somehow. He opened the door and waved me inside with my bike. He followed with his.

There was a chair and a table, rickety and worn, and a wooden box. He sat down on the chair, and I sat down on the box. The place smelled old and dusty and musty, but it was somehow really quite cozy.

"How did you find this place?" I asked.

"Just found it," he said. "Like I found these."

He reached between my legs. I jerked upright out of sheer shock. He laughed. Then he opened the box. I saw a lot of things in there, but he only pulled out a couple magazines. I don't remember the titles, but I do remember the cover images. Nearly naked women.

Nudie mags! I'd only ever heard of them!

 He flipped through one. Nearly naked girls! Mostly bare-breasted, a few bare-bottomed. Triangles of pubic hair!

My cock went full hard almost instantly. I scooted to the end of the wooden box so I could see better as he flipped through the pages. I was awestruck.

It was women, sure, but they were nearly-naked and a few were completely naked. It was awesome.

Now I knew what he did for fun! Sort of.

When we had finished the first magazine, he asked, "So, like it?"

"Yeah!" I said enthusiastically. 

He opened the other magazine. It was much the same, until about halfway through. Then there was a naked man! There was his entire body on display! Well, almost. You could see his hairs down there in several pictures, but not 'it'. Still, I'd never been so turned on! I had thrills running all through my body! And the feelings in my dick were something incredible.

We finished the magazine.

"Like that one?"

"Yeah!"

"Which was your favorite?"

"That one!" I said emphatically, pointing at the second one, the one with the man in it.

"Why?"

I couldn't tell him why, of course.

"Better pictures," I said, almost truthfully.

"Know why I like it?" he said, handing it to me.

"Why?" I asked, taking the magazine from him.

His hands were hidden by the magazine once he handed it to me, so I didn't see where they went. I wasn't paying his hands any attention anyway, not with that magazine in my hot little hands.

But then I felt one of them. On my lap. And then it was exploring further, finding my erection.

I sat there in utter shock as his hand groped and fondled me through my shorts. I stared at the front cover of the magazine, afraid to look up or move in any way.

"You like wanking it?" he asked softly.

"Yeah."

Hell, every boy did, and I knew that much. Saying anything else would have been an obvious lie.

"You ever wank to a magazine like this one?"

"No."

"Ever even seen one like it before?"

"No."

We were quiet for at least an entire minute as his hand continued to massage my groin, making my cock squirm, get even harder, and even more sensitive. It felt great! Really great!

When I felt him unfastening my shorts, I didn't resist in any way. I thought of it, sure. But, well, what he'd just been doing felt so great! I was anxious to feel more.

I knew what he was doing, but I don't think I thought about what he was going to do.

My face grew hot. My body trembled. I think I was breathing fast and hard.

I just looked at the cover of that magazine as his hands got my shorts opened, and then he reached into my underwear and managed to get my cock out.