"Can I look at your body?" he asked one Saturday morning. First we'd seen each other, away from school, since Wednesday, because they had relatives visiting from out of town.

"You can do a damn sight more than that!"

"But I've been thinking about you. All over. I want to look you over: all of you."

I felt oddly shy. But we'd sort of promised ourselves not to hold back out of fear.

"Well, I took a shower. I'm as presentable as I'll ever be, I guess."

"Cool! Thank you. I really mean that."

"I'm just a little apprehensive."

"Why? I mean, I've... fucking tasted most of your body. Why should you be apprehensive?"

"I'm just worried you'll see something you don't like. Some part of me that's ugly."

"Hunh." There was a pause. "Uhh... I mean... You realize that I may... You've got to realize that I've really never seen a boy's body all over. I have nothing to compare your body to. I do know that it always gives me a major boner and if I see anything surprising, I'll just have to jack off about it a few times and learn to get a boner about that detail, too."

"You always know the right thing to say. I'm still embarrassed, but I'll do this for you. 'Cause it's you. Please just judge me kindly. How do you want me?"

"On all fours, like a dog show." We both disrobed and I assumed the position.

He ran his warm hands down my sides, then over my hips and down the sides of my legs. Very soothingly, reassuringly. He caressed the soles of my feet, but didn't tickle me. Then he put his hands on my butt and ran them up my back to my shoulders and down my arms. It was relaxing. There was nothing particularly erotic about it, but it was at the same time intimate and non-threatening.

He ran his hands gently through my hair and tickly down the part of my face he could easily reach. He leaned in and kissed my ear and urged me onto my back.

I settled and got comfortable. I was about half hard. He smiled gently and said, "Close your eyes." I did, and it made me feel even more naked: to be seen, to be known, and not to see. His fingers explored my face tickly-gentle. I relaxed, pressing through the fear that my face would gork out as I let go. He ran his fingers, soft and gentle, through my hair, arousing tender emotions in me, giving me a full-on, urgent boner. A sigh escaped my lips. Even my desire was on display now, to be inspected. I was naked before him. More naked than ever before. He tenderly stroking my eyelids and my lips, tickle-teasing my ears and along my jawline to my chin. He leaned in for a tender closed-mouth kiss on the lips.

He moved over me, straddling my legs, and ran his hands across my shoulders and chest, tracing my nipples and ribs and belly button. He leaned forward for another kiss, and I felt his hot cock pressed against me. When he straightened up, it dragged down, across my abdomen, along the inside of one thigh, in the groove next to my balls, leaving a faint, cool trail on my skin.

Now it turned erotic for me: his penis was marking me. Marking me as his. I was showing him my body, a body I had given to him. Was giving to him. It wasn't mine to withhold, to be be reticent about sharing. It was his to see and to judge and to commit to memory. It was his to inspect, to know, now.

It came upon me slowly, gently: the joy of being physically his. I spread my legs for him. I got a boner for him, exposed for him to see. Me helplessly hard for the tenderness of him, hardening, lengthening, stretching up my body, bobbing above my belly button, the head taut and eager for him. He reached between my legs to take my bag softly in his hand, to make it draw up fat, and happy to be his. My boy package was tight and small now for him; for him to have and to examine and to make memories about.

He leaned down to slowly breathe on me, moistening the skin of my chest, moistening my hard boy tits, moistening me and then inhaling, to smell my body smell. Urged my arms up, above my head. Ran his fingers through my sparse hairs, leaned to inhale there, too.

"Mmmm! You smell like heaven, you know," his boner hot against me.

My bag and boner stuck out from me, where I was presenting them to be seen my him, to be known, to be felt and possessed by my sweet boyfriend. He slid down and lay beside me, gently rolling me to face him.

"Put your leg up," he said, his fingers running so lightly over my dick, over my balls, in the groove next to the thigh.

He turned 90 degrees and laid his cheek on my thigh, facing my balls with a gentle expression. He reached to grasp the skin and lift them, inspecting where they met my body, the texture, how they draped. The wrinkles and the sparse few hairs.

He got up and rolled me onto my tummy again, spreading my legs to look between. His hands were on my butt cheeks and I faced the test. The test of trust.

He tenderly parted my cheeks, exposing my hole to him. He was looking at my most secret place. My place of shame and smell and excrement. Thank God I'd just showered. He blew on my hole, accepting and acknowledging, Claiming and possessing.

"Oooh!" He breathed, "You are so lucky."

"Hunh?"

"It's beautiful. Your butt is beautiful."

"How can it be beautiful?" I scoffed.

"I just is. The colors are so even. It looks lovely, innocent. Sweet. Sort of angelic."

"Goh-hod!" I objected, relieved and pleased nonetheless. After this, everything else was probably semi-okay. Even if something else fell a little short, maybe I could make up for it by being a good boyfriend. My ugliest place had passed the boyfriend test. Somehow I felt cleansed in some deep part of me.

"Okay! Dog show, again."

I assumed the stance and he corrected my posture. Made me stretch out longer, raise my head, spread my legs a bit.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Just look at this fine specimen of Irish American Boy. Look at the superb lines, the delectable roundness of the hindquarters, the haunting beauty of the penis and scrotum, tenderly jutting forth, candy to the eye. The lovely chestnut mane, with matching pubic patch. The smooth, fair face. The strong neck, broad shoulders and firm little nipples. Those sweet lips and the lovely shape of those pink ears.

"Note in particular, the gorgeous shade of the penis head and the fine drapery of the scrotum, containing these two generous orbs.

"Finally, ladies and gentlemen, note how the scrotum contracts when the anus is touched. Note how it tightens and becomes voluptuous and compact." I began to moan from his finger brushing over my hole.

"Lastly, hear the sweet sounds of his arousal. I bring you, Ladies and gentlemen, The American Boy. A truly fine specimen."

The only words I could find were, "Oh, Fuzzy! Touch me there again."