Dad or Mom? Ch. 03

"He even wanted me to hide behind the open door and give it a tug. Make it flutter to the floor while the lady and her daughter were trying to sell Bibles. Being stripped, being seen is what excites Timmy..."

...here she tousled his greased auburn hair...

"...and he likes leaving his blind up at night and his light on so the ole widow lady next door, Mrs Shotover, can get to see him when he comes in from his shower and shucks out of his towel and dries himself. He makes it go on for an hour...so she gets a view every night...a real drawn-out show...and his penis as stiff as it is now!"

The girls feigned shock and gave Timmy playful slaps.

"Oh, a little exhibitionist!"

"You dirty-minded boy!"

"Showing off to the lady missionaries! To old Mrs Shotover!"

He blushed like a fire hydrant.

"So...now I want you to help me punish him."

Girls advanced with paddle and switch.

"No, I discovered another thing they hate and want to show you that first. Make this other boy stand here."

Willa nodded to Eric who advanced, eyes wide behind his plastic-rimmed glasses, his broad-beamed, narrow-headed erection wobbling ahead of him.

"It's called 'jiggle juggle,'" explained Veronica, and kneeled in front of the two erections. She palmed her right hand just under Timmy's tight, fuzzy scrotum.

"A few light slaps..."

And she delivered them to Timmy's gauzy sack.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

"Like that, Timmy? Give you nice feelings?"

"Y...y...yes. B...b...but not too..."

"Watch, girls. See his little marbles dance around. And right now he loves it."

Slap! Slap! Slap!

"See the balls jiggle around? Cute, hey? And he loves the feeling."

"...but not too..."

And before his timorous voice could get out his request Veronica gave his testicles a swap. Owww! It made the boy double over, gasping, dancing around in pain.

"Awwwww! Veronica! Not too hard! You know...I...all boys...hate that!"

And he tap danced, clutching his testicles. "Jesus! It hurts!"

"So that's our game," said Veronica. "Some nice light slaps which drives them crazy because it feels so good on their balls which are so very sensitive and then, perhaps on the tenth, a strong one. A smack! Which lets them know who's boss!"

Would they like to do it? On Timmy? On Eric? Would they like it! You've got to be kidding! Try to stop them! The six girls elbowed one another, crowded in, reached for the two testicle sacks, competed to feel the chamois softness- a little bit moist- in their palms. Competed to feel the boys tremble at their touch and then, eyes looking up into their faces, delivered dainty little hits to the soft, lightly haired sacks...

Both fellas standing there, erections thrusting up and out, having their ballsacs juggled.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

"Wow! See the balls jiggle!"

"Oh, look! How cute!"

"Their little marbles...yes!"

How the boys seemed to love it!

Slap! Slap! Slap!

The boys couldn't resist those rich, sweet feelings as their little testicle sacks were gently bounced by the palms of those mischievous girls. The two cocks were rigid, wobbling slightly with each bounce. And, yes, trailing a clear sticky fluid.

"That's the way," explained Veronica. "Juggle the scrotum to see their testicles jiggle...juggle their little sacks, watch their balls bounce. Oh, doesn't Olivia love the feel of Eric's thingie! Looks like she's done it before!"

Olivia beamed up at her. The fern-like odour of Eric's pubic bush filled her nostrils as she worked away.

"And don't the boys love it? Look at their faces."

Their eyes closed, the two looked close to ecstasy.

"Okay, girl, now harder...see who can get those marbles to bounce the most!"

The sharp smacks were like a jab in the guts.

Eric and Timmy doubled over, tap danced and gasped and whimpered, clutching their privates.

The girls fell about laughing at them. And insisted on playing "juggle jiggle" all over again. And again and again.

"That's it, girls. Juggle the little sack...to see those little balls jiggle!"

Veronica urged them on and watched both ballsacs get gently slapped.

She caught Eric's eyes- glazed with pleasure again, darting with apprehension- and smiled.

And when it was time she told the girls to deliver a smack.

Deborah and one of my sisters were enjoying their turns. They struck hard.

Owwwwwwww!

Eric and Timmy danced around in agony, doubled over, clutching their ballsacs, gasping their protests.

"Owwww! No! Boys hate that! Owwww!"

"Oh God...no...no...no!" Gasp! Gasp!

They played the game again and again.

The consensus was that Timmy's balls had bounced the more. That the game was tremendous fun. That it gave boys nice feelings "down there" but ultimately taught them that girls were in charge.

Every one of the six resolved to play the game at every opportunity, to blackmail brothers and cousins to play with them, to recruit boyfriends who would submit to their dainty slaps and surprise, punitive smacks.

Finally, spanking time for Timmy.

Bent over, clutching his ankles, he presented the inside of his intergluteal cleft. "See it?" Veronica asked them. "His little red hole? Cute as a button!" The girls agreed it was very cute. "Like a pussy's nose!" said Deborah who had a vivid imagination. "Does he keep it clean?" asked silly Olivia, and instantly regretted it. "Let's ask him," suggested Sally. "Hey Timmy do you..."

Veronica answered for him. "Oh, Timmy's very clean. Not like most boys. He showers every day and always after sports with special attention to this spot. In fact he once asked me if he kept it very clean would I..."

"NO! Veronica don't tell them that! This is humiliating!"

Veronica patted the inside of his cleft. "That's alright little grasshopper. I won't tell them. That is, if you take your spanking like a real little man. Gonna be a brave Injun?"

"I'll try, honest. But you really hurt my balls just then. Don't know I can take much more."

Willa took the paddle. The other girls gathered as close as they could to watch his bottom cheeks turn red and Eric closed in, too, as he fingered his erection.

SLAP!

Timmy leapt into the air, yodelling a protest.

"Owwwwwww!"

Her paddling was hard and with every a strike he leapt high, stumbled forward and moaned and squealed and panted.

Sally got her turn, and Deborah and Olivia; each thrilled to be taking responsibility for producing broad red splotches on Timmy's glorious glutes. And then the other sisters who struck with a licence that suggested real cruelty.

Which had the expected effect: a little war dance by the afflicted boy, around and round on the spot.

"Oh that dance. Its sooooooo funny. I think we should give it a name. What about, the Embarrassed Naked Boy Spanking Dance?"

The girls all thought that hilarious.

"Let's see it again. Over, Timmy! Bend over!"

He obeyed, clutching his ankles.

Willa signalled to her partners that the time for the paddling was over. She put the paddle down and picked up the switch. Eric mouthed an "Oh!"

Willa raised the switch and brought it slashing down across his glutes.

WHIPPPPP!

Timmy's reddened bottom cheeks sent a message: new implement!

He shrieked.

He sprang forward and danced around but this time, instead of hopping from foot to foot while he rubbed his bottom and howled, he jogged furiously on the spot, while he rubbed his bottom and howled. He saw the switch in Will's hand. "Oh no, nooooo! Veronica, don't...not that! No! No!"

Running on the spot! The girls fell about laughing.

"I love the way..."

Sally was pointing at his groin, choking with laughter as Timmy kept furiously running, rubbing and crying.

"...his...his...his..."

She was spluttering.

Willa finished her sentence.

"Yes, his penis and testicles fly around!"

And all the six girls pointed and laughed while the boy, crying now, tears draining from his eyes, ran furiously and, yes, his genitals flew around and flew up and down.

"It...is...just...soooo...funny," said Deborah, shaking her head with disbelief. "How can they have so little pride?"

There were six more slashes applied to Timmy's welted bottom and six more episodes of running and leaping around and tap dancing, which made the girls laughter more and more heartily, before they left off.

And switched their attention, again, to Eric.

"No, not me! Not another session!"

"Yes, just to give Timmy's beautiful bottom time to recover. Look how red it is. Look at the welts. Now it's your turn again. Bend over, Eric!"

Oh, how the girls loved producing the funny dance and they did it again, alternating one fella with the other, Timmy then Eric, Eric then Timmy, before it was time for Timmy to stand up against the wall, his back to a huge Elvis poster, while the six girls fronted him- to caress, to tickle, and yes, to give his nipples some pinching and tweaking (Sally and Deborah volunteered for this) while mousy Olivia, very taken with testicles, insisted on crouching and fingering him down there. Around and around his "beanbag" until he jolted to a firm erection once more. That her fingers strayed to his penis knob- so well shaped and bulbous and pink- could not be overlooked. And to his stem, with the big blue vein as well. My three sisters worked at tickling his ribs and his thighs and calves.

By the time they made him turn his back to work on his rear and massage cold cream into his welted buttocks (Willa taking the lead) his tears had dried and he was looking skyward like the crucified saviour, the women folk tending his wounds.

Then Veronica, his plain, wide-hipped girlfriend, sat in Eric's bedroom armchair and ordered Timmy to cross the room and sit in her lap. He shuffled to her, eager to be mothered. As he lowered himself- shifting uneasily when his ravished bottom touched her lap- the two of them formed a tableaux resembling Michelangelo's Pieta. He cast one arm over her shoulder. What happened next occurred in slow motion. Veronica undid the buttons of her blouse, jerked her bra upwards and allowed a fleshy, melon-like breast to fall out, decorated as it was with an outsize rubbery nipple.

The other girls gasped.

Veronica might be plain but her breast was every boy's fantasy.

She placed her hand on the back of Timmy's head and pressed him to her. He seemed to expect it.

Like a hungry infant he applied his lips to her wide, prominent nipple...and suckled away.

The girls and Eric were spellbound.

For minutes it seemed Timmy slurped. Veronica patted his auburn ducks tail hair.

In his lap his penis was as hard as marble, trailing fluid.

Veronica looked at the goggle-eyed girls as if to say, "See, this is how to do it." And guided her big nipple back between his lips whenever it fell to one side.

Slurp.

Suck.

Slurp.

She then asked for the jar of cold cream and quickly lavished a fistful on Timmy's erect cock. The other girls leant in close. A few strokes from Veronica and Timmy exploded. Whoosh! A rope of cum splashed into his oiled, brushed back hair. a second onto his forehead, a third pooled on his chest. He assumed the look of someone who had just fallen onto a haystack from a jet plane. Or had just been fired from a circus cannon. A trail of his saliva hung between his lips and his girlfriend's breast.

Girls leant in close. Deborah reached and collected droplets from his forehead and held it to her nose. "Nice and fresh," she announced and the others followed. As they fingered his cum and sniffed at the deposit he looked impassive and hypnotised.

Veronica told them to give his stem a gentle squeeze. "Get all the last drops out. Can't have him go home with stained jocks!" No girl held back. My three sisters were as keen as the others; each keen to squeeze out the last drop, although Olivia- in love with testicles, obsessed with a fella's beanbag, loving the feel and the power- daintily juggled his scrotum some more.

Willa brought the bacchanalia to an end, consulting her watch and announcing that Eric's mom and dad could be home anytime. For his part Eric standing outside their circle, brought himself to an explosion, his second of the night, his spray of sperm descending to the worn bedroom carpet.

He was blasé.

"Don't worry. It's not the first splatter they've had."

The girls giggled, while they helped him towards his pyjamas and Timmy to his jockstrap and his clothes, neatly folded by Veronica.

Like the perfect spy when I met Eric for workouts and swims, I hinted at none of my secret knowledge. "Aw, that's my damn dad," he said in reference to his emblazoned glutes. "Catches me at..." Here he gave the gesture for jerking off. Which was a thrilling concept for me: Dad catches his boy playing with his teenage cock and hauls him over his knee for a broad-palmed spanking, still naked. Exciting for me, even if a brazen, confident lie from him.

As we sat on the bleachers after a swim or moved through our gym routine shirtless I noticed his nipples were getting fleshier, more prominent. I had never seen wider aureole or more dart-like projections.

"Hey, Eric, how come you're tanned all over?"

I enjoyed getting him embarrassed about his mysterious all-over suntan.

Blushing, he said he had been on a camping trip which I knew was untrue. Once he even said that when his folks were away he lay in the sun in a corner of his large back yard. "Guess I'm a natural nudist. I like sun on my bare ass. You gotta try it."

"And I see from your marks your Dad's still paddling away..."

He grinned, blushing. He fingered his welts, little knowing I'd seen them being produced in his bedroom last night. "Yeah, well...my Dad..."

Here I thought I'd throw out a line.

I took a breath and added: "...bet you're getting to like it...your dad spanking you...on your bare bottom..."

He looked shocked.

"Whaaaat?"

"Bet you are getting to like it. Getting spanked by your Dad."

His face now took a sly expression. He liked the chance to talk dirty.

"Well, kinda. It hurts at the time...but after it stops stinging it leaves a fella with a warm feeling...warm all over...hard to explain...and getting stripped off...well, you know me...natural nudist and all..."

Here he assumed an "Aw shucks" demeanour.

"...Dad likes to spank me nude, you know...over his knee..."

We were stark naked now ourselves, seated on the bleachers after a swim, the pool area of the Y otherwise empty. His penis lengthened, brown band around its thick middle. Mine stretched and stood right up. This time I didn't cover it with my towel. I saw him stare. His own stretched some more. Then his penis stood right up in his lap, like a Namibian Meerkat emerging from its burrow. Right up, as if to look around, look for prey. Nor did he feel he had to cover up.

We faced one another, two nude 18 year olds, cocks upstanding.

And he was off, indulging in one of his monologues. But this time I didn't find it boring, this talk about being spanked by his dad, fantasy though it was. It was my fantasy too.

"...and it's all kinda nice...sweet, like...a fella over his Pop's knee..legs and arms dangling...pressed into his knees...your ass sticking up ready for punishment...showing him you can take it...and the slaps on your bottom! Wow! Those slaps..! When they come...don't you know it! Buddy, your ass is on fire! On fire! Slap after slap! And you pressed into your dad's legs!"

My cock throbbed. Leaked fluid. And he was looking right at it.

"Slap, slap, slap it goes. And you think it'll never end. All around your ass. All around your upper legs. God, man! It stings but you love it! And for your dad it's kinda like...a way of him saying how much he cares for his fella...that's how I see it...you know..."

I took a deep breath.

"Yeah," I said. "Those slaps...that would be swell...real swell!"

Eric beamed. His face registered an heretical thought: my pal has thoughts every bit as disgusting as mine.

"Well, how are you going to get your ole man to do it to you?"

He was stroking himself as he put the question.

"Dunno. Thinking of failing my mid-terms. And I've missed homework...all the work-outs we do. Think it will come to a head real soon...and he'll have to go for me."

I stroked myself too.

Nobody else was in the pool area.

"When it happens you gotta ask him to give it to you on the bare. Totally stripped preferably."

His stroking got stronger.

So did mine.

"Yeah...that's what I'll do...tell him, Dad, I want to take it on the bare...and take off the shirt as well...get his big slaps on my naked ass cheeks...lie over his lap stark naked...naked as a jay...in my birthday suit...let him see all my new muscles..."

"Yeah, pal, all over those cheeks...and on the upper thighs...slapping down on you...and you buck naked...getting spanked by your dad...your bottom red...and your legs...moving around on his lap..."

We were panting now with excitement.

We were close to cumming.

"And know...what I'd do, pal?"

"What, buddy?"

Our stroking was urgent.

"I'd ask him to...strip off too."

The filthy thought did it. It had him and me let fly with ropes of cum, one after the other, ejaculations that reached the tiled floor and wooden seats, and left us gasping and laughing.

Silence.

Then...

Looking over his shoulder he said, "Better get outta here."

And clutching towels to our midriffs we were off, me to the change room, him back to the gym.

"Gonna work my inner chest some more. And this late at night you can work out nude..."

"What?"

"Yeah. No one else there. Or hardly anyone...sometimes Coach Compton...it's real cool...lying on the bench, doing my flys or incline press. With no clothes...cock flopping on my tummy...and anyone gets to see my all-over tan..."

I left him there leering and veered off to the showers, thinking that Eric was sexually charged, obsessed with the subject most of the day. All of the day. As I was. In fact, a sex maniac. And I was too, enlisted like him in an underground cult devoted to erotic rituals and observances. Think of what he had been up to, with me panting in his wake: being paddled and caressed by the girls, brought by them to a big climax in woodshed and bedroom; going naked around Coach Compton's pool with handsome Physique Pictorial models; dreaming of being spanked nude by his dad and masturbating with his buddy to the fantasy...and, all this under his belt, off for a late night nude workout in the malodorous Y gym. Because of the opportunity of being nude some more, in the company of men. Having his tanned groin admired, his lats, his pecs.

Sex maniac.

Sexual mystic

For some reason the educated expression popped into my head. From where? Who knows? Sucked up from idle reading- Readers Digest in the living room, a volume of Eastern philosophy off the library shelf? Overheard schoolgirl conversation with Freudian jargon?

As I walked down the narrow corridor to the change room I became aware of the measured tread of bare feet padding behind.

I looked over my shoulder.

He was a coffee-coloured Negro. Long and lean as a greyhound.

His hair was frizzy and tinged with grey.

He may have been 50 or 60, older than Dad, yet his tummy was as flat as mine, concave in fact. He might have been an Olympian sprinter, leanly muscled. His biceps looked outsize given his taut, wiry frame.

Between his thighs swung a mahogany penis, salami-like, uncircumcised with welts and webs of veins, a spectacular network of piping- a motherload running down the middle, his deep dorsal vein, pulsing and inflated like some industrial duct, with veins and arteries fanning from it, subdividing the chocolate skin, diversionary tracks leading to glans, prepuce, base and scrotum- a shaft so thickly veined it was a road map, battlefield guide, work of art.