These summer days with the mercury stuck at 100 degrees remind me of an incident when we were stationed in Arizona. There was a swimming pool on-base, and boy was it crowded in mid-summer. Not just the pool itself, but also the changing stalls and restroom facilities.
I was waiting in line to change back into my street clothes. The guy behind me said he was in a hurry. He wanted to know if I would mind sharing my stall with him when it was my turn. I told him "Sure."
I was around nine or ten. The other guy was somewhat older. When we got into the little stall, both carrying our locker baskets, there was not an inch of spare room. The other kid slid his bathing suit down with no hesitation, revealing his entire crotch. I suddenly wondered if changing together might not be a nice thing to do. But I went ahead and pulled down my trunks, followed by my soggy briefs that my mother made me wear under my bathing suit.
The big guy was all business, dropping his wet outfit on the floor and then toweling off his back, his butt, his hair and so forth. At the same time, his dick flopped around right in front of my wide eyes, a dick that put my shriveled little peter to shame.
And then I noticed his pubic hair: light blond and glistening with dampness. It made a curly fringe above his dangling peter.
Now the older guy dried his crotch. When he was through there his fringe of blond hair had become sort of airy. It was even lighter than the rest of the mass, billowing above the rest. He gave his dick a little special attention with the towel. Two or three times he cracked his legs apart, reached down under and dried his balls. Those actions were interesting. But what I couldn't keep my eyes off of was the golden poof of hair.
I had a certain friend my same age who traded looks, feels and tickles with me (See "Best Friends" on this blog), but neither of us had any hair in the critical location. The only person I'd ever seen with pubic hair was my dad. But here was this somewhat bigger boy displaying a magical tuft of delicate golden fibers above his penis.
He stepped into a jock, pulled it up, and tucked his equipment into position. The show was over.
"Thanks," he said as he grabbed his basket and trotted out. I was still half-naked, having spent all my time staring at the free show the guy had given me.
At our first chance I tried to describe that delicate bush of glistening blond hair to Connor, my touchy-feely friend. We quickly slid down our pants and began examining each other for hair of our own, but found nothing.
The boy with the lovely blond pubes entered my life for perhaps five brief minutes, yet he remains a powerful memory, one of those special moments that you never forget.