What a Dispicable Fabric!!

Today while at lunch with a co-worker in a chain restaurant. Being that it is summer you see a variety of patrons. Instead of business casual working class patrons getting a slight respite from the daily grind. Lunch is now dotted with Mom's or Dad's corralling the kiddos to fuel up between camps and activities to keep them progressing forward on their journey to model citizens, or at least keeping them active away from video game screens.

Today I saw the usual 5-8 year olds bopping under Mom's loving arms, and challenging her will to force some veggies down their throats instead of their typical preferred carb and protein mainstay. Then I often delight in seeing an occasional prima donna Mom in Yoga pants with collagen lips who feints her sugar-sweet commands as control, shaking her diamond adorned fingers at said youngster. Who is of course paying little attention to her. You see, generally these trophy wives of successful earners have the most unruly kids, who competently win-over princess- Mom, and then generally junior gets extra cheese on his burger, with a giant soda to slurp while barely eating 3 bites of the said nutrition laid before them.

But enough despite for middle-class suburbia and it's well-meaning populous. Today while eating my taco salad, I looked up to see a young fellow accompanied by a slightly larger specimen of Yoga Mom. They are positioned at the self serve drink station at the exact time that I need to rise from my seat, and refill my own water cup.

Approaching towards them from my table, I see this young fellow is dark blonde. He is wearing a blue t-shirt with some print which I paid no attention to. But as I rounded the dining area partition, I was delighted at my choice to refill at this juncture. I had an opportunity to observe something quite unique for this setting. It was predicated in the form of his shorts and the material of which they were constructed. He was wearing competitive swimmers trunks. I guess you might simulate them to Speedos. However these were designed with an inseam of about 6-8 inches, reaching downward to his knees. In fact they fit a bit loose there. I would say they were not that tight at all. However due to a certain visible bump around the groin area, I would guess the material must be very light.

Now,  I was 12 once, and I can distinctly remember how much was inside my shorts. Indeed this young fellow was likely bearing no exceptional gift in that area, however I blame that fabric which recklessly allowed a "Head-em Up, Move-em out" attitude for over-exposing his boy parts. This confounded failure of junk control garnered an effect of freedom to one of nature's proudest forms resting delicately suppressed inside there.

 Although his clothing was in place doing it's meager duty to cover and contain. It could be noted that with the slightest inspection you might determine that resting above a pair of ovoid supports, there was a projecting point that the lazy cloth succumbed to.....allowing a
display of young maleness.

I awaited the pair (Mom and Son) to complete their drink formulation as I investigated this unruly cloth. How evil it was to allow such a dastardly observation by anyone in public.

 Certainly there should be no blame assigned to this tender fellow who obviously had spent his  morning innocently exercising at swim class in these very trunks. Then prompted by a huge hunger, he and Mom chose to re-charge on Burritos, and chips. There was never a thought of changing to other shorts, he was hungry, and he needed to be fed before his next activity commenced. Obviously they proceeded to a family friendly spot, and placed an order to-go.

 I suggest this technologically advanced fabric, was designed sheerly for competition, and had surely done it's duty allowing this lad to slip confidently through the waters of summer swim team training, and perhaps he was the kid leading the pack all the while. So proud he must be that this very trunk in it's delicate balance of securing modesty, yet yielding the full thrusting power of his swimming prowess was likely a suitable pairing for both boy and garment at the peak of competition. Yet somehow when placed in a public setting, there was a departure from the norm. An obvious bulge was there, and dammit yeah you couldn't miss it. I didn't, but so confused I am about it.

In the end, I was surprised that modesty was disregarded. Perhaps this was the first summer that certain aspects of his maleness had come to prominence. So maybe there had been little or no consideration by either Mom or Boy about his outward appearance. In some societies this is not a concern at all, yet in the US, it seems there is a profound fear of exhibiting apparent maleness.  In A bold assertion I might propose,
"I''m NOT sorry, it's a part of nature, so lets all accept it...right?."

Can anyone help explain? Is it the Cloth, or Society condemning what the cloth reveals?



A Boy Can't Hide Some Things

I saw a young school aged boy around 14 disembark a bus.    It was around school finishing time, so he must have been on his way home. As he got off I noticed him trying with one hand to pull his shirt down over his crotch. However his shirt was not long enough, so his attempts were in vain. In his other hand he held his school bag in front of him. He was walking rather quickly, seemingly in a hurry to get home and it was quite amusing watching him tug at his shirt whilst desperately trying to hide his obvious excitement. I've no doubt, as soon as he reached home he threw down his bag and ran into his bedroom for some "special time".


No Burgers for Shirtless Boys

A few days ago, I was in a local eating establishment. It is a non-franchised burger joint, a mom and pop spot if you will. It is close enough to a local pool and seeing as school is out and the pool is open, a lot of kids are passing through.

On that day two shirtless black boys I'm guessing 10 and 13, one lighter skinned (the 10ish year old) and one dark skinned (the 13 year old) came into the restaurant. They were two  attractive young guys, the younger one listened intently whenever the older boy spoke. The older boy did not reject the younger boy when he came to him and put his arm around his shoulder. I got a cousin vibe maybe even brothers but either way they were extremely kind to each other, and it caught my attention that they were so adorably fond of each other. The owner came out and told them that they needed to put on shirts before they could order. They had the best little muscular chests and abs, I have ever seen but I guess that offended her. I kid you not The 10 year old had his shorts drooping down past the V line where the hair will eventually grow. The boys complied,  the youngest boy went bopping outside to the bikes they were riding and brought in a pair of shirts. The boys tugged their shirts over their heads, ordered, got their drinks and left.

One might think the owner was racist for telling those two handsome black boys to put on their shirts. But 15 minutes after the black kids had  left (and when my food finally came),  two white boys came in shirtless like the other pair. They were both about 12 years old. I got the vibe that they were classmates or neighbors. They were both thin, one was obviously bleached blonde but it looked nice, the other a natural blonde. They were shirtless and wearing flip flops, towels draped across their necks whereas the black kids were dry as a bone and probably on their way to the pool, but these white kids were still wet and were coming back from the pool, and probably very hungry from playing in the pool for hours.

The owner once again came out and told them that if they did not put on shirts that they had to leave. The two boys did not have any shirts and had to leave. My point is that four cute boys, two sets of two came in shirtless and the owner set out to chase them away. If I owned that restaurant any boys shirtless, or fully dressed would get served. Perhaps sometimes kids might get free drinks and that little black boy with the loose trunks showing off that V and more would have gotten a free hamburger and fries.



Stall Peeping

Hi, I am err.. New to the blog, but liked the concept and had some stories to share of my own. So, here is this one.

   When I was around 10 I went to a restaurant with my family where I had an encounter with a boy. I had gone to the bathroom and was sitting on the toilet and was just getting up when i noticed a boy around 7 years old peeping in through the crack between the door and bathroom stall. He had a light olive skin-tone, dark eyes and black hair in a bowl cut common among younger kids. His mouth was agape as he looked on in what I could only describe as amazed curiosity.
   We were making eye contact the whole time after I noticed him but he only continued to look on with his mouth open in curiosity. He also gazed on to my privates and seemed to smile; he knew that what he was doing was naughty but couldn't help but take a look. I didn't know how to react, i just stared at him back throughout the encounter, which was brief because after locking eyes for about 10 seconds an adult man walked in interrupting his peeping adventure.
    "What are you doing!" Shouted what I assume to have been the boy's dad in an enraged tone. "Nothing!" He quickly responded, the guilt and embarrassment evident in his voice. "Get over here... come on!"
 The boy quickly fled the bathroom followed by a stern scolding by the man. I also quickly wrapped up my business in the bathroom and returned to my table, startled by the whole encounter.
Before leaving I caught a glimpse of the boy at his table, looking rather unhappy. To this day I wonder if getting caught and embarrassed (and probably harshly punished) was worth it for this curious boy, and if his parent's punishment dissuaded him from pursuing his curiosities. 



Big Truck - Small Dinger

  About boys and pickups. There's a boy in our neighborhood that is definitely on the short side (he's in the drum line of the high school band, and considerably shorter than anybody else in that section). 
 When he started driving he picked out a huge red Ram pickup for himself.  You've probably seen the type, giant tires, with a chrome exhaust pipe sized to bellow industrial plumes of soot upon command. There is doubt if he is able to navigate any drive-thru's for a quick burger, and shake, due to the over-all height of his "Rig". 

 My partner and I speculated that the spectacular vehicle was all manifested in compensation for being short. We also assume it might be an overt display of machismo, to diminish the probable small dork in his jeans. But of course we have no comprehensive data to make that assumption with genuine facts!

You might hear him rumbling down the street and muse, there goes Tiny, or Junior, or any mix of candid shortster insults.


Little Tinklers

Eric, nice new look on the blog. I tried to post this little sighting, but apparently the blog will only accept comments from people with a Google account?

So here goes,  I was driving along a residential street Saturday afternoon. Temperature near 100 degrees. I passed a couple of little guys about two years old, standing in a wading pool under a tree in a front yard. Their bathing suits were down around their knees and they were both pissing right into the pool they were standing in! Totally unconcerned. I circled the block, but by the time I passed that house again two women had the boys wrapped in towels and were carrying them up the sidewalk. I hope the mothers weren't too hard on them. They were only doing what comes naturally!



At a Country Crossroads

I had to make a gas stop at a little rag-tag convenience store at the corner of two state roads the other day. After filling up I went inside for something to drink. There was a single cooler with Waters and Cola's, yet double or maybe triple the amount of beer selections. While making my soda selection,  a small drama played itself out between the apparent proprietor and her Son. It was one of those serendipity moments that give you an inner chuckle.

A young boy walked into the building and went immediately to the counter. "I need the keys," he told the clerk.

"What is it this time?" She reached under the counter and brought out her purse.

"Batteries for her hearing aid," he answered.

"Grandma "could" wait..." she reasoned.

"She doesn't wanna wait, she says her shows are starting in 15 minutes. Just give me the keys!"

A slight gasping exhale, then the clerk determines, 
"Lyle, Don't you let nobody see you, understand? Stay on the back roads."

"Yeah, I knowww-ah"

She clutched the keys as she offered her final sensibility, "Come from behind the store and walk around to the front, hear?"

"I know, I know." He took the keys and sauntered out the door with a sense of duty, but somehow now his shoulders were confidently more square, and his head taller above his body. There may have been a bit of John Wayne bravado in his steps even. That handful of keys transformed this lil guy into what might indeed elevate him to Man of the family role.

Now if you're like me, you are wondering about this little incident. Keys to what? Why shouldn't he be seen? What is so mysterious about a trip to buy batteries?

Meanwhile the kid was simply what he appeared to be, a tanned country boy. He was wearing old sneakers with no socks, a pair of ragged denim pants and a blue T-shirt with a faded American flag on it. His hair was brownish-blond and sort of choppy in the way it fell, but there were no sideburns. He was just a boy with an errand to do.

The kid had taken the woman's keys ambled outside and around the corner of the store. Then there was the slam of a car door followed by the brief grinding of a vehicle's starter and a reckless roar of power.

Immediately the boy steered a white Ram pickup across the driveway and out onto the road. I couldn't help staring. He looked even younger than before in that big truck, even more like a child.

"Your boy?" I asked the clerk.

"Yes. And the sheriff warned him about driving into town again."

"Warned him?"

"Well, yeah. He's only twelve."


Oh, for the life of a country boy!

Summer Fun

Be sure to Poke around here, there's all kinds of cool hidden stuff!!

Nuts Up

It'll lick off...

Equipment Failure

Through savage progress cuts-The Jungle Line

Looking for our lost speedo - or scroll to bottom of page
Bois gone Wild`1

Hood Ornament

Euro Tykes

Swim Meet Pals
New Sportswear Trend
Down to the BASIC Boy

Indian Guides


My first job was an after-school gig at an ice cream kiosk in the food court at a mall. Afternoons were downright boring, but things got busy around suppertime.

One afternoon a lady and a boy came into the food court. He was probably around twelve or maybe an immature thirteen. She gave him some money, pointed to a table a little distance away from my kiosk, and left him there. Apparently she'd given him instructions to wait there for her.

The kid purchased a bottled drink from another food shop and went back to his table to wait. Time dragged on. There was no sign of the mother. As a matter of fact, there was no activity in the food court at all. Except for the waiting boy and a few people working in other shops, the place was dead.

Maybe half an hour went by. The kid moved around, trying to get comfortable on his chair. After another moment he spread his legs as wide as possible under the table. He reached down with
both hands and gave his crotch a lingering squeeze. Then he looked around. Another pause. Now he extended his legs straight out, slid forward on the chair, and began rubbing the palm of his right hand in circles on his crotch.

The circular motion continued. Occasionally the boy would look around, but it seemed that he felt his action was hidden under the table and that he could safely continue massaging himself in his remote corner.

A few minutes went by while the circles continued. He was intensely focused on his lap and his moving hand. As he rubbed himself he stuck his legs further under the table and leaned back in the chair. His hand moved faster than before and he seemed to be raising his butt to mash his crotch tighter against the circling hand.

I was doing my best to mind my own business, taking care of chores in my kiosk. But of course my real attention was focused on the busy boy and on my own expansion. As he urgently rubbed his dick he tilted back in the chair. Its front legs were now several inches off the floor. He was obviously approaching a climax, rubbing himself as fast as possible and stiffening his body for the blessed release.

And then -- disaster.

The chair fell backwards, taking the young jacker with it. Chair and boy landed with a crash. He jumped to his feet, glancing around in embarrassment and picking up the chair.

He made no attempt to resume rubbing himself. I've wondered all these years: Did he have a climax, and the intensity of his ejaculation caused the chair to fall? Or, looking at it from the opposite direction, did the fall come first and trigger a climax and ejaculation? Or (and this is the one I lean toward) did the crash cancel his erection and leave him unfulfilled after all his effort?

I have to grin every time I remember the dude rubbing his crotch faster and faster until his chair turned over.
Thunder Cloud