Calum McSwiggan

Teenage Dream

In Eat, Gay on August 9, 2012 at 10:42 am

Hot Skater Boys

‘I told him I wouldn’t teach him any more but he refused to accept it, he just kept coming back. It began to feel like our secret, and well, secrets can be… seductive.’

– Notes on a Scandal

Over the past couple of months I’ve grown used to having students develop crushes on me; I’ve been passed gifts of adoration in class, had scampering feet and giggling voices slip love letters under my hotel room door after curfew, and even had girls declare their undying love for me all over their Facebook pages- I’ve always found it both flattering and endearing but never thought that this attraction would ever be reciprocated.

Alarm bells first began to sound when I was offered work teaching sixteen to eighteen year olds in Germany. I’ve dated boys younger than that, I thought, and young skater boys are my kryptoniteyou can imagine my relief when I arrived to find that I wasn’t attracted to a single one of them, they weren’t unfortunate looking, they just thankfully weren’t my type.

That was until I was handed the bios and photographs of all the new student arrivals- I took one look at the pile, and, as if deliberately taunting me, a handsome eighteen year old Spanish boy smirked up from his photograph. I steeled myself for his arrival, reminding myself that I was an authoritative figure, but the moment he strutted into the hotel, showing off his ravishing good looks and muscle tone, I immediately went weak at the knees. It was almost impossible to keep myself composed, but I just about managed it, at least until the cruise…

I lay sunbathing on the deck of the boat as we sailed down the River Rhine one sunny afternoon, and as I admired the stunning scenery he took off his shirt and lay down directly in my eye line. The glistening sweaty torso of my eighteen year old student was unavoidable, and the thoughts whirring in my head couldn’t have been more inappropriate. I felt like I was Cate Blanchet in Notes on a Scandal and that at any moment I might be leading him down the railway tracks and

I knew I had to get rid of these thoughts, and quickly, and so I made a conscious effort to avoid his naked torso, but it proved to be impossible. He scored a goal in a football match and off came his shirt, we went for a walk in the rain and off came his shirt, we sat quietly in art class and off came his shirt, and then one evening when I thought things couldn’t get any more inappropriate, he answered his door to me wearing nothing but a carefully placed wash cloth.

I fumbled awkwardly for a moment, but just as I went to turn on my heel, I caught the scent of beer dripping from his lips. Want some? he said, noticing me clock the bottle on his bedside. My teenage dream had come true, a naked teenage Spaniard was inviting me into his room for a drink, and for a moment I had to remind myself where I was. Just five years earlier I was brainstorming different ways to illegally procure alcohol, and now here I was having to confiscate it.

Can I buy you a none-alcoholic drink? I joked the following evening as he grumpily slumped against the bar at the teenagers’ disco. He wasn’t amused, and as if deliberately trying to make me uncomfortable, he headed straight for the pole, ripped off his shirt and went at it like a wild animal, gyrating in an overly sexual manner, his muscles bulging as he lifted himself into the air and gracefully glided back down. I no longer felt like I was at a teenage disco, I suddenly felt like I was marvelling at some sordid show in Amsterdam’s House of Boys. 

And so eventually I resigned myself to the fact that I was attracted to him, and decided there was no point in pretending that I wasn’t. As long as I kept such thoughts to myself and didn’t write about it on the internet where the authorities and future employers could see, it would probably be okay to look as long as I definitely didn’t touch.

  1. Your descriptions are utterly delicious. Best of luck in keeping your hands off this one…

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