But now, as I sat in those bleachers of the Central High School gymnasium, watching my new best friend prepare for his wrestling match, I realized how wrong my mom was.

JP Maloney was absolutely perfect.

There, standing on the gym floor just to the side of the mat, was the epitome of flawlessness, the embodiment of physical superiority. If ever the body of a mythical Greek Adonis were to appear on Earth, he would look exactly like JP. Though still rather slim and slight in build, far from being the biggest wrestler in the room, he was, without a doubt, the best looking one there. Every curve, every angle on his body was formed to sheer perfection.

All I could do was stare. Gone were the thrashing bodies of the other athletes. Silenced were the cheers of the crowd. The only thing I could see was JP. As he expertly slipped the warm-up jacket off his body, his immaculate muscles came into public view piece by piece.

Like all his other teammates, he was wearing the wrestling singlet: a one-piece tanktop-like outfit with shorts reaching partway down the thighs and a low-cut neckline curving to just below the chest. His bottom half was still hidden beneath the pants of the lightweight suit, but it was still plainly obvious that JP looked good in that uniform. No, he looked fantastic! I mean, almost all the other guys had muscles, but none of them were anywhere near as well-proportioned as JP's.

Some of the wrestlers had great biceps, but their pec muscles were almost non-existent, while others possessed powerful chests, but lacked similar size elsewhere. JP was simply solid all-around…and I swore that he had gotten even bigger since the last time I saw him topless, barely a few months before.

His neck was now incredibly wide for his head, bigger than my own, and my body was generally still larger than his. His shoulders were broader than most of the other guys his size and they exploded into balls of muscle fiber nearly the size of baseballs as he did his overhead arm stretches. His biceps were thicker than ever. In fact, they probably had now gotten bigger relaxed than mine were flexed. His forearms were covered with veins that I could see even from the bleachers. His lats formed a dramatic V-shape from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist, which was no more than 27 inches around. You could even see his ripped back muscles moving underneath the fabric of the singlet.

Then, he turned around and I felt my heart skip a beat. It was like watching an angel from heaven. JP’s chest was utterly amazing. It protruded just far enough so that the straps of his singlet made a small gap underneath his pecs between the fabric and his skin, the slender ledges of the muscles curving elegantly up to his armpits. Just below, the deeply dissected serratus muscles were proof of his exceptionally low body fat, as were the creases of tightly stretched skin that rimmed his shallow cleavage.

The colors of the uniform, white with royal blue down the sides, were translucent enough to allow the faint outline of JP’s six-pack to show through, expanding and contracting magnificently as he twisted his torso back and forth. I marveled at his flexibility, his ability to effortlessly extend his body to remarkable ranges. His lats gracefully followed suit, spreading his back muscles around in a balletic display of muscular collaboration.

Finally, before I could catch my breath, JP grabbed the waistline of his pants and slowly began pulling them down, first revealing his gorgeous butt held tightly by the elastic fabric of the singlet, perfectly in contour with the arch of his lower back. Then – holy shit! As his hands glided past his crotch, a very noticeable bulge was uncovered and it was just as impressive as the rest of him. I gulped, feeling the tingling sensation of sexual arousal. Somehow it didn’t surprise that JP was well-endowed. The spandex clung flatteringly to his sublimely hung organ, bordered defensively by his thighs.

I had never seen JP’s legs before, but they were just as muscular as everything else. Their small but chiseled muscles rippled as he shook them loose. His thighs bulged with every step he took and his hamstrings were among the biggest on the team, at least among the smaller guys. His calves also bulged like crazy, even at a relaxed state, and when he bounced on his toes, his calf muscles danced along. JP had become an amazingly muscular athlete, who grew more astonishing every time I laid eyes on him.

“On mat 2, wrestling at 130 pounds, JP Maloney of Central and Jon Halibut of South Lakes.”

I blinked. The announcement of the match’s beginning brought me out of my trance and the gym re-entered my consciousness once again.

After locking on his headgear, JP confidently walked toward the mat with a look of total determination. It was the same expression that had haunted me so many times already, sending shivers down my spine. The other guy wasn’t nearly as confident. He was a couple of inches taller than JP and quite muscular but no where near as defined. His back didn’t boast the startling angularity that JP’s did, nor did he possess the ripped musculature of his opponent’s torso.

But the most striking difference was in their faces. While JP’s displayed a sense of total confidence, the other wrestler’s exhibited undeniable anxiety. It was obvious that he wasn’t quite sure his skills would hold up against this solidly built competitor. When the referee had them shake hands, JP peered at him with a debilitating glare. It was as if he was mentally destroying his opponent before the match even started, as if he was telling him that he didn’t stand a chance. And it was working. As the two crouched down into their starting positions, I noticed a few nervous twitches in the other wrestler’s legs, while JP’s body was absolutely still.

Finally, after a deafening split second of silence, the referee blew his whistle and JP immediately pounced on the other guy, tearing him off his feet and to the ground. I already knew that the kid was strong, but he was also incredibly quick and agile. The ref held up two fingers of his right hand and the fans on our side of the gym cheered.

“That was a takedown,” Mrs. Shepard instructed me. “JP just received two points for forcing the other kid to the floor.”

I nodded absently. Barely seconds into the match, JP already had points on the scoreboard. Wow, this sport isn’t for the slow, I thought to myself.

Attempting to recover from a sluggish start, the other athlete applied some pressure. For a brief moment, I thought that JP was in trouble, but he instantly squashed the attack and tossed the other guy over and onto his back.

“There’s a reversal,” the teacher said. “Two points. The guy almost had him.”

But that was as close to losing as JP would get. As soon as his opponent tried to hold him down, JP would instantly get out of it. I learned that that was called an escape and was worth one point. The boy was astounding to watch. Every single one of his muscles was straining, yet he had complete control of the match.

As the seconds ticked by, the points on JP’s side of the scoreboard added up, while the eyes of the other kid grew more desperate and afraid. It looked like the other wrestler was trying every move he knew, but it was of no use. At the end of the first two-minute period, JP was ahead 9-0.

“Wow, that kid is unbelievable,” Mrs. Shepard delighted. The crowd was going crazy. Finally, one of our wrestlers was winning.

JP walked over to his coach to get some more pointers for the next period. I couldn't imagine what they could be talking about; JP was nearly perfect. He was breathing hard. His chest was heaving and his arms, which stood quite a bit away from his body because of his engorged lats, were moving up and down. The most amazing thing was his vascularity. His veins bulged regularly anyway, but after a couple minutes exertion, they were almost ready to burst, pumped with blood.

The other boy looked exhausted. He was sweating profusely, his breathing was forced and there was a solemn look of defeat in his eyes. There was nothing he could do to overpower his opponent. JP was simply too strong and too quick for him.

The referee called the two wrestlers back to the center of the mat. JP sauntered back, ready for more. His challenger walked hesitantly, almost wincing with every step. Once again, the ref blew the whistle to start the second period. In barely five seconds, JP was on top of his opponent again, forcing him into a now-familiar defense mode. Not five seconds later, the whistle was blown. JP had pinned the other guy in 8 seconds, an amazing speed. In wrestling, no matter what the score is, if a wrestler pins his opponent by contacting both shoulder blades flat with the mat, he is declared the winner.

The crowd was going wild. The referee took the hands of both wrestlers and then raised JP's arm in victory. The spectators on our side of the gym erupted in celebration. JP pumped his arms into the air. His biceps bulged with power, sweat pouring triumphantly down every crevice of his body. He ran off the mat and into the high-fives and handshakes – and even a few butt slaps – of his teammates. Curiously, the only member absent from the celebration was Ryan, who instead remained on the bench. I briefly wondered what the reason was. Perhaps he was just in his “zone,” like JP had been before his match. I didn’t worry about it.

Still smiling, JP slipped the straps of his singlet over his shoulders, so that they hung down by his waist, revealing his chiseled torso in its exposed entirety. A chorus of girls from the top of the bleachers screamed his name, but JP did nothing more than briefly glance up at them.

“Obviously,” Mrs. Shepard smirked, “JP has his own fan club with the girls.” I agreed. “I just hope he doesn’t get tempted by them, if you know what I mean.” I had to chuckle a little bit. Surely, he would be smarter than that.

JP did look like a Greek god. His skin was glowing with sweat and his incredible six-pack abs tensed and loosened with every breath. He grabbed a sport bottle of water and, raising it above his head, squirted it into his mouth like a model in one of those sports magazines.

At last, he looked up, noticed me in the stands and waved. I waved back. He motioned me to come down to talk to him. I did and told how awesome it was to see him wrestle.

“Geez, JP!” I was nearly at a loss for words. “I knew you were strong, but never knew you to be that fast. You were a blur!”

“Thanks. I had 100% control of that match from the beginning,” he bragged. “That kid had no chance …and he was a senior.” I had to agree with him. “No one can withstand the strength of these babies!” As he said this, he flexed both his biceps. They were incredible with veins throbbing with blood. “14 and a half inches. Not bad for a 15 year old, huh? I can bench almost 200 pounds without breaking a sweat!”

I couldn't believe how much he had grown in only a year and a half. My eyes instinctively wandered to his ripped stomach. He caught where I was looking, glanced down himself and said, “129 pounds, 27-inch waist, 2 and a half percent body fat.” He obviously was really pumped from his match. “It takes hundreds of sit-ups to earn these babies.”

As he spoke, he patted his rock-hard abs almost lovingly, as if they were his pride and joy. Well, they were in a way. Six impeccably carved squares of concrete muscle pulsated with each breath he took. The tops of his obliques peeked out teasingly above the waistline of his singlet, not low-riding enough to reveal anything, but automatically focusing my attention to the prominent bulge directly inches below his navel. Man, it was huge! I quickly looked away from it in fear that he would catch me staring.

JP took a few heavy breaths and then said something that startled me a bit. “Try to put your hands around my neck.”

“Huh?” I answered, looking puzzled. “Now? Here?”

“Yeah, right now.” When he was younger (and a lot smaller) I used to put my hands around his neck as if I was choking him, just in a joking mood of course. My fingers fit around perfectly with plenty of room to overlap. Ever since he started really gaining muscle, I stopped doing it. Therefore, it had been a while since I had “taken a measurement.”

“Come on,” JP persuaded. “I’m not going to hurt you or anything.”

Hesitantly, I raised my hands to his neck. I was completely shocked. I expected to feel nothing but hard muscle, so that wasn’t what surprised me. JP’s neck had gotten so wide that I was unable to wrap my fingers all the way around it. My fingers were nearly a half-inch from connecting.

“Pretty big, huh?” JP was obviously very proud of himself. “The base of my neck is wider than my head now. I noticed it last night when I looked in the mirror.” Sure enough, the spot where his neck intersected with his traps extending a tiny bit past his cheekbones.

“Come on, push harder,” he urged. Knowing that I could never hurt him, I obeyed. I tried to stretch my fingers and push them into his neck to make them touch, but I couldn’t. JP’s neck was a solid tree trunk of muscle. I finally gave up and dropped my arms to my sides.

“Now watch this!” he said, winking at me. He moved his head further back, making his neck even wider. It now arched past his jawbone, almost touching his ears. “That‘s the sign of a true wrestler.”

With that, he turned around to walk back into the locker room. Since his top was still down, his broad back was in plain view. It was a perfect V-shape from his unbelievably wide shoulders to his incredibly narrow waist. Plus, the two narrow but distinct ridges running down the middle of his back alternately swelled and every muscle rippled as he walked away, the form-fitting fabric of the singlet clinging to every millimeter of his gorgeous bubble butt. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him as I watched his unbelievable body saunter into the locker room.

Finally, I turned around and headed back to my seat in the bleachers. Mrs. Shepard leaned over to me. “What were you doing to JP? Trying to kill him?”

“Nah,” I said, trying not to sound as flustered as I really was. “He was just showing me how big his neck has gotten lately. He’s such a show-off.”

I tried watching some of the other matches, including JP’s older brother who was wrestling at 189, but I couldn’t keep my mind off of JP and his gorgeous body. I was hopelessly in love with him. That was the reason why my stomach would do flips every time I saw him, why my breathing would quicken, why my mind couldn’t concentrate on anything else. JP Maloney was the one.

I’m sure you’re thinking that I loved him because he had an amazing body, but that was only part of the attraction. JP was one of those extremely rare guys. Yeah, he had the body of a god and was hauntingly cute too. His piercing blue eyes would make you melt when he looked at you a certain way. But that wasn’t all. JP had a brilliant mind to go along with his beautiful body. He was a straight-A student and it was said that he had an IQ of 145, just this side of genius.

Everyone in school was beginning to realize how athletic he was, but he was also very talented musically. He had always been a decent trumpet player, but now that he had confidence, his playing started to get as strong as his muscles. So strong, in fact, that I was beginning to worry about losing my first chair to him.

However, the thing I admired the most about him was his maturity. He was confident on the wrestling mat and just about everywhere else and had an ego, but it was a healthy one. JP would still do things for you without being asked, like carrying groceries to your car or offering to get you a drink from the soda machine. He was amazing. He was unlike any 15-year-old I had ever met in my life. And he was everything I had ever wanted in a boyfriend. I so badly wanted to tell him my true feelings for him, but he would probably freak if I did and then I would lose him forever.

“Hey, Matt!” I broke out of my trance to see JP bounding up the bleacher steps toward me. He had taken a shower and changed and was now wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. It was a rather large, baggy shirt, but I could still see his powerful shoulders moving underneath the fabric.

“You know, I really appreciate you coming to see me wrestle,” he said, shaking my hand and sitting down next to me, “It pumps me up for my matches.”

“You’re welcome,” I responded, trying to sound unaffected. “It’s a little tough figuring out how they score it, but I think I got the hang of it.” He smiled. A tingle went down my spine, knowing that he was practically rubbing shoulders with me.

“Listen, I’m finished tonight. I don’t have anymore matches.” I was a little disappointed. Usually, a wrestler will face two or three different opponents in a tournament, but since this was a dual, there was only one. I wouldn’t have minded seeing JP’s amazing athletic ability displayed at least one more time.

JP nudged me in the shoulder. “Hey, how would you like to come over to my place tonight?”

“Tonight?” I answered, getting excited, but trying not to show it too much.

“Sure,” JP said. “My mom wants to thank you for driving me all over the place this past year since I don’t have a car yet.”

I thought for a moment. “Ok, I don’t think I have anything else to do tonight.”

“Great!” he said enthusiastically. “Once we’re finished here, I’ll go pack up my stuff and meet you in the sports lobby.”

Without missing a beat, the boy jock bounded up and before dismounting the bleachers again, flashed me an engaging smile.

“And then I’ll show you where I work out and…,” his lips curled into a fiery smirk, “a little surprise.” •