We're going back some years, when I was a sophomore in high school.

I wouldn't say I always knew I was gay. I knew I was not straight, I definitely had an attraction to men. I thought girls were pretty, but sexually, they did nothing for me. I could look at a naked woman, and feel a little shy, but seeing a naked man brought up a stronger arousal. I thought guys in my school were cute, from my gym teacher to guys in class. I denied it, of course. I was already bullied enough. Then, I met a freshman named John in my language class. I forgot when I noticed him, but when I did, it was as if I had yearned for him all of my life. John was about 5'8, tan (I believe his family was from the middle east), dark hair, dark eyes, and slim. He was a soccer player, so he had a bit of a type built, and the nicest firm legs. He hair was short, but thick, and his eyebrows were fairly thick. He had a beautiful set of white teeth, and his smile could melt anyone's heart.

At first he sat a row next to me, under the classroom clock. I was constantly pretend to look at the clock, just to get a look at him. I was fat, unattractive, gay and awkward. I knew it was just a fantasy. I didn't know his full name, until I got a school yearbook. I searched for him on Myspace, and secretly saved his photos onto my computer. Nearly every day when I came home, as long as nobody was around, I would masturbate to him. I would imagine him after soccer practice, dirty and sweaty, slowly undressing and showering with the other players. I felt guilty. Every time I finished, I would kiss his yearbook picture and apologize. I was disgusting. Even still, I continued to do it.

We didn't interact much in class, except for one time we had a group project. He was surprisingly nice, and he let me borrow a pencil. I know it doesn't sound like much, but I was mistreated so much at school, this meant alot. An incident happened during our second year together. We were taking notes on a lecture, and he walked over to sharpen his pencil. At that time, my desk was right next to it. He was so close to me, standing there, I couldn't help myself -- I stared right at his cute behind. I'm not sure how long I was staring, but I noticed he wasn't moving, and the pencil sharpener had stopped... he caught me. I tried to play it off, and he gave me this really angry, pissed off glare. I was terrified, but I figured I would just brush it off. Perhaps it was all in my head?

The next day I was walking in the halls, and I saw him and his friend approaching. I tried to pretend like I didn't see them, facing forward, when John threw his friend into me. I knew then and there, he realized. Soon, he started to taunt me. He would go out of his way to walk passed me in class, he would sharpen his pencil nearly every class, putting his ass right in my face, trying to get a raise out of me. He'd sit in his chair, stretched out, lifting up his shirt, and rubbing on his chest. He wanted me to look, so he could call me out. My cute John was no different than everyone else who tormented me in school. Even with that body, and adorable smile -- he was wicked like them all. I couldn't look at John as much as I used to, not in school anyway. We even had gym class together, and I went out of my way to change in the hallway restrooms just to avoid him.

I recall he uploaded a shirtless photograph on myspace. It opened the door for so much imagination. His tight fit chest, faint chest hair, a cute little hairy trail, and dark little nipples. His body was just as beautiful as I expected. If only I could've seen more. If only I could've done so much more. I wanted him to be my first kiss. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to do something for him. Anything. I just wanted his approval and his love.

By my senior year, I had left the state, and I never saw my John again. I've gotten over him, though I still check on his facebook once in awhile, and he seems to be doing fine. He's grown into a fairly successful man, and has a beautiful girlfriend. He's gotten a bit more muscular, and is just downright handsome now. I'd still have sex with him. His body is as beautiful as ever, and I've always liked to think he had a fat cock. Maybe one day he'll show up on craiglist, I can blow in a bathroom stoll? It's not romantic, but it's something I've admittedly yearned for.

I realize now that I am an adult, I was not in love with John, it was merely a lust. I wanted him, like some sort of treasure. It was his appearance, and not his personality that I was drawn to.