Rodney's Nude Humiliation Ch. 05

"...when that fuckin' coach came up, stark naked himself and loving it, he was getting stiff with the excitement, and said, no, boys should sit down with their Moms! Go on Mark, and the other fellas too, up with your Moms! He said a Mom was always a boy's best fan and ordered me to squeeze into their row, and sit with her, and told other fellas to do the same. Sit next to your Moms, he was bellowing.

"Ladies had to create space and free-up seats. Us guys couldn't believe this was happening. There I was- I would have to cram past six old ducks to get near my Mom and Aunt and neighbour- shit! I went up the stairs with my hands pressed in front, with all of them looking and I turned my back as I squeezed in their row and fuck! I was shoving my ass right in their faces, close up as I squeezed through and the old dears were laughing and saying things to hurt my feelings..."

"Like what?" Rodney asked, his own penis standing up at a perfect 45 degrees, the precarious flap shunted to one side. Stevie had even begun to gently feel his own erection, stroking its little glans which was drooling. He was also intent on the details.

"Yeah, what did they say?"

"Aw, things like, what a nice white bottom to have shoved in their noses, and jeepers, how they didn't know where to look with a naked young man way up close and how they bet this nice boy- Mrs Sullivan's boy, isn't it- must be embarrassed to be up here with us old dears, yes he must be weak with shame, you know how boys are at his age. And another said oh I think some boys might like getting around with their clothes off in front of us and they laughed and another said, yes, some boys liked to show off. Another said no, she thought we all looked embarrassed. That's why the poor boys kept trying to cover up with their hands even though in many cases it didn't work.

"I squeezed past, my back turned to them shoving my ass in their faces and trying to cover my front with my hands and ladies all around craning their necks and peeking.

"Then I had to sit down next to Mrs Harris with my mother and aunt leaning over her to take a good look. And another lady, Mrs McIntosh, on the other side of me who was craning her fuckin' neck to see but I managed to sit down and cross my legs and lean forward on my elbows to cover up. All the while they were fussing and giggling and touching..."

"Touching!"

"Oh yeah, patting my legs and saying what a good physique I had and stroking my shoulder and leaving their hands there and one old bitch started running her finger tips up and down my back saying they'd all cheer me on because they knew I was the strongest swimmer just feel those muscles and someone else starting feeling them too and Mrs Harris threw her arms over my shoulder while she told me that boys shouldn't be ashamed of their bodies and how much she liked it when when she saw me with my shirt off mowing the lawn but, she said, today was going to be even better, for her and all the others, and I should just relax and enjoy it. Just get around naked and unashamed, she said."

Both Rodney and Stevie moaned. Their fingers were slowly running up and down their penis stems as they listened transfixed with horror.

"But it got worse. Outta the blue old Mrs MacIntosh said to my mother, leaning over me, leaning right across over my lap, she said so you never had your boy circumcised Mrs Sullivan? Jesus, I went red! Mom said no, and she explained she had wanted it but my Dad never did because he hadn't been and the doctor had agreed with her but my Dad had insisted Mark is going to keep his whadya call it, his skin (she couldn't think of the right word) yes that's right, foreskin, and said my Dad had told her and the doctor he would teach me how to keep my thing clean.

"Mrs McIntosh then said her three sons had been circumcised even though her husband still had his thing, his skin, his foreskin- the silly bitch didn't know the name for it- and her husband liked having it, he even seemed proud of it- that extra bit of skin they have, silly men folk she said- but she just thought it looked neater and she got her way with her three boys and thought they looked swell, neat and streamlined and modern, and the main thing was whether the skin pulled back easy. Isn't that the problem they have, the skin pulling back? And my mother said she didn't think there was a problem, was there? And looked at me! Just looked at me! And pointed to my lap! And I went deep red and just shook my head. And I knew Mrs McIntosh was going to ask to see it. I just knew it!

"And I knew when she did my fuckin' mother was going to tell me to lift my arms and move my legs and let her look. Bet they woulda both wanted me to show how the skin pulls back! Make the head pop out. Show it off. Oh look, isn't that nice! My son's penis has a nice big tip! But the coach started blowing his whistle for the first race and they all looked up.

"And there on the blocks three outta the eight boys had big, bold hard-ons, sticking out and up! And their heads were down and they were really blushing. And I could feel that the ladies all around me were looking at them, seeing stiff cock, probably for the first time for years with the ole ones. And there'd be mothers seeing their own sons' hard-ons for the first time and it would be fuckin' awful for the fellas."

He paused.

"Has your mother ever..?"

Stevie said no, not his mother, but girls in his class when they burst into the swimming pool that time and his sisters and their maid of course, every Saturday. Saw him stiff, that is. Rodney said that probably his Mom had caught a glimpse when he showed her and Mrs Reilly the Indian costume.

There was silence as the three 18 years contemplated the horror of having erections seen by a Mom. The terrible shame. A boy's penis at its full length, long and hard and standing out, its veins full, a shameful symbol of the obscene pictures that played in the boy's mind.

Then Mark said that it had happened to him at the swim meet.

And he told them more about the woeful day.

The coach seemed to delay ordering the first race, as if extending the agony of those boys with erections up on the blocks. All female eyes were on them. They seemed hopelessly shamed. Especially when cameras snapped.

Kerry Fulbright was one of the fellas up there with a hard-on: he had a chunky, defined physique and a chunky average sized cock that veered to the right. The veer gave his cock a jaunty style, like a cigarette hanging lop-sided from the lips of a Hollywood male. "That's Mrs Fulbright's boy," declared one Mom. "The good looking one. Yes, with the...with the...you know, the embarrassment!"

And the ladies around her laughed.

"Well, he's not alone with his embarrassment," said another. "Look at Madelaine's boy, he's putting himself on display! Larry's his name. Goodness, he delivers our groceries! Oh, my God!" And her neighbour said he won't be able to look you in the eye the next time he comes in with the groceries. And the first lady said, "Don't worry about him, I won't know where to look myself! He'll stand there waiting to be paid and I'll be thinking of what I'm seeing now!"

Larry's white boner seemed as long and thin and hard as a broomstick- it was a real revelation- and the tall, skinny blond-haired boy was blushing all over, not knowing where to look himself, right now. It must have been his Mom or aunt who bounded forward to get a close up of her son. He gestured to her to leave off, but she snapped half a dozen pics.

Fuck, thought Mark, look at that- all for a family slide night! Here's my darling boy up on the blocks about to start his race, totally nude with a long, skinny, hardon! Look girls, there's your brother; have a good close-up view, that's what we call his engorged organ...yes, it is funny. His is different from his friends' because it is long and thin. Boy oh boy, it's embarrassing for him! I agree, girls, boys are very funny with their clothes off. And oh, look at his tight little ball sack!

And Mark heard women in front of him whisper that oh, those fellas are going to be embarrassed. Oh yes, poor boys with us all watching. Yes, happens all the time at their age, her neighbour agreed. Just can't help it, can they, said another. Mark said as he heard them talk about boys' erections he felt himself fleshing out down between his crossed legs, sheltered under his elbows. So he was relieved the ladies knew it was nothing boys his age had any control over, it didn't mean "dirty thoughts."

Then another old dear shattered the consensus by saying, "But reckon they hate us seeing them, all the same," and another said she didn't want to say it but it sure as hell looks funny! They all tittered away. Then another one said, "Those things? Looks like a row of hat racks!" A lot of laughter, and some repeated the line so others could hear: "Like a row of hat racks, she says, the boys up there with their things sticking out."

There was laughter, some of it gloating and cruel. Oh yes, look at them, said a Grandmom, and she said her son had got "like that" just by seeing the lingerie advertisements in The Saturday Evening Post. She caught him looking with a bulge in his pants. "In fact, he thought about sex all the time. They all do. And that's the result up there now! Only thing is to get them married!"

Up and down the bleachers naked boys sat interspersed with the ladies, next to a Mom or aunt. Most had legs crossed, tucking their packages away and out of sight. Others sat demure, with both hands pressed down on their groins. They looked goofy and bashful, some were teary-eyed with embarrassment. Some must have been thinking about the moment when they'd have to get up, some may have been getting hard-ons.

Jason Cho, the Korean exchange student, sat next to his host mother, red haired Mrs Grossman with her cats' eyes glasses and beads. She seemed thrilled, he looked terrified. His smooth coffee-coloured form looked acutely vulnerable, up there in a middle row, women all a-titter, turning and craning to take him in. He sat straight backed, hands pressed into his groin, a timberline of black bush tantalisingly on view.

Carl Harlson stood out, with Viking looks and broad shoulders, planted right in a row of Grandmoms. His legs were so long he had trouble crossing them, sitting all cramped up, with one of the old ducks repeating like a refrain, "That boy's as bare as a board! Bare as a board!" Which made him wince with embarrassment every time while his own Grandmom, sitting next to him, seemed unable to keep her hands from roaming all over him, even ruffling the blond tufts of hair on his chest. He kept trying to shrug her off. Mark sensed that Carl's little dick- disproportionately tiny for the tall athlete, a mere sliver on top of a neat little ball sack- would be hard as a rock.

One boy, Samson Douglas, the Negro student arrived this year from Alabama, had stepped boldly up to a seat offerred by Mrs Carruthers, the widowed seamstress who had sewn the boys' Indian costumes and who had engaged Samson to tend her prize-winning garden. He had climbed the steps with arms by his side while astonished women gazed at the weighty abundance dangling from the frizzy hair of his groin. And when he came to squeeze into the fifth row he kept his front turned forward to present his genitals to the faces of a half a dozen ladies. Their noses were inches from his thick, grey-brown appendage, with its well-shaped red-brown glans, and he didn't seem to care. He flopped proudly into the vacant seat, legs spread as wide as he could manage, hands on his thighs. His penis and capacious scrotum lolled in his lap.The row of ladies behind him leaned forward, greedily.

All sorts of teasing was going on around the seated boys, patting and stroking and tickling the ribs. It was clear that the old girls could not keep their eyes from the groins although they were mighty distracted by the sight of the erections of the boys on the blocks waiting for the Coach's whistle.

Finally those boys were allowed to dive. Which only revealed the line of eight naked boys behind them- standing hands behind backs, legs spread. They looked so funny, standing like sentries. Groins open for inspection sergeant! Two of them were 100 percent erect, three on the way with lengthening dicks that pointed to the tiles or stuck out parallel to them. And they couldn't cover up, hands behind backs, legs spread apart.

Exposed, and now the centre of attention, they blushed like fire hydrants.

"There's young Tommy!" "Oh, look at Buddy, little Buddy! Oh my, oh my!" "Goodness! If only their sisters could see!" "What? Sisters? They'd love it but the boys would drop dead!" Laughter, some of it cruel. More cameras flashed and three Moms dashed forward with Brownies, even when a humiliated son waved his one back.

But she stuck at it: click, click, click, for the family album, Mark thought, to show visiting relatives, to delight the girl cousins, to bring out to titillate the bridge club. To be peeped at by the giggling maid or cleaning lady. And even as the ladies looked, Charlie Hodgson's eight incher wobbled in its parallel-to-the-floor stiffness, jerked higher, stopped for a few seconds and tilted up again to rear at a bold, unapologetic 45 degrees. It showed off the wrinkled, veined underside. From the ladies closest there were some ironic cheers.

While the first race was proceeding in the pool these boys were ordered up on to the blocks where their audience could relish an even better view. Now more ladies streamed from the bleachers with cameras, including Mark's Aunt Julia who grasped Mark's shoulder as she struggled over him and descended and marched right to the corner of the pool and snapped away- at Paul, and Kevin, and Charlie, the others as well.

Finally it was Mark's turn to rise in his place- all heads swivelled to catch a glimpse- and press hands to his groin and squeeze past, presenting his muscular white rear to the noses of the ladies and descend the steps and go and join his colleagues behind the boys on the blocks and stand in a row: as directed by his coach, legs wide apart, hands behind. Oh my God, he thought, totally 100 percent exposed. He revealed a rubbery semi-erection virtually parallel to the ground, folds of foreskin retracted over his big glans. A shy glance showed he was not alone. Engorgement had spread like wildfire. Everyone of the eight was poking out but, as happened with the law of averages, each of the others was smaller than Mark's: one a shy but stubborn little three incher, a few at four, the rest five.

Jimmy Strawbridge, at Mark's side, was owner of the smallest. Short and stubby, it projected straight out of the middle of a wrinkled ball sack and turned up at its thick head. The thick banjo strings of the frenulum were very pronounced. But the thing was short, more head than stem. The comparison, especially as Mark's penis stretched and reared some more, might be considered shaming. Certainly would if caught on film and shared with sisters- and here was Mrs Strawbridge capturing her son for family posterity! Click. Click. Click. And in every pic, it was clear from her position, there would be Mark standing next to Jimmy. Mark with his long, thick bold one. Her own son, short and stubby. Now see how the boy would survive knowing all the females in his family would be inspecting that album!

As races ended boys hauled themselves out of the pool and walked by the ladies, to stand loitering at the head of the pool or sit in the front. No more did they shelter their things with their hands. Samson Douglas from Alabama found none of the ladies in his path objected when water flicked from his shiny, mahogany physique as he made his way back to sit next to his proud patroness.

And small, compact Timmy Townsend, his blond hair in a crew cut, walked back to the bleachers sporting a neat, diminutive entirely erect penis. As ladies looked on he was humbled and shamed by the exposure. Felt funny and thrilled deep inside. He climbed back to the row where sat his dear, sweet Mom and Aunt Sylvia. He was not sheltering with his hands- no, he had settled into the role of the submissive naked boy- and as he squeezed back to his seat he was facing the ladies front-on, his slender member sticking out. Ah, a real Mother's boy, thought the ladies, as his tender little glans grinned at them, his unthreatening member poking from wet, flattened blond pubic hair.

And when he slid his wet bottom into his seat Mrs Townsend hugged him and congratulated him on coming third and pecked him on his cheek. And on his other side so did his Aunt Sylvia. He was happy to be the centre of attention- theirs, and the other ladies all around. He sat without covering his groin, his erection- small and proud- a measure of his happiness. There was even a touching offering of transparent fluid bubbling from his tip.

After today he might ask to be allowed to play nude with his toy soldiers on the lounge room floor or romp naked in the backyard. Do homework at the kitchen table nude. Watch TV. Be teased, tickled and hugged by his sisters.

If female visitors came, he thought, it would be so nice. And maybe...maybe...Mom and Aunt Sylvia would put a nappy on him every bedtime, his sisters too.

Meanwhile Mark and his cohort stepped up onto the blocks, preparatory to diving. All were at "full stand" although the eight organs jutted at different angles. Bud Logan's was the real "belly slapper," its five inches rising parallel to his abs and flat against them. It was Mark's that gave the ladies the best ventral view: the stretched skin, the flaring frenulum, the pumping arteries and tightly withdrawn foreskin of a big, bold penis underbelly. As a result there were 15 ladies now straining away with cameras and Mrs Hawksmoor, who had no relationship with any of this eight- she was there as neighbour of Charlie Hodgson and friend of his Mom- nearly toppled into the pool as she lent over to get Mark's display on film.

"Why doesn't that fuckin' faggot of a coach tell us to dive," complained Jimmy Strawbridge, next to Mark. "Just look at him," said Mark. And there was Coach Gordon Compton, under his fake blond hair, suntanned all over even in his carefully shaven groin- yes, his shaven groin. Whistle on a cord around his neck, loudhailer in his hand, just chatting away to a bunch of seated ladies, not remotely concerned that they were seeing him with his modest cock standing upright, tingling with the excitement of his exposure.

And as ladies moved closer, and called on boys to look up and smile, and clicked their cameras, or just sauntered in with arms folded on their big chests to have a close up inspection, and more strolled down from the bleachers, the coach allowed things to stretch out. Easily 10 minutes had passed, eight boys with full erections caught on the diving blocks, their female audience swelling and staring and laughing and pointing and whispering.

And the coach let it drag on even longer.

Mark and his friends felt as if they'd had eyes roaming all over them like insects. They felt despoiled. "Where the fuck are these photos going to end up?" asked Jimmy out of the corner of his mouth. "Every photograph album in town," said Mark. "So any girl who you might ask to the sock hop or the drive-in gets to check you out. And in five years time if you ask one to marry you, she and her Mom get to see what you're offering." Jimmy shrivelled. "So if she wants a short, stubby one that slides right in, she'll go for you," Mark added.

But Jimmy was looking at Samson Douglas squeezing out of his seat, at the Coach's request. His gray-brown appendage was now bolt upright, excited by the ladies looking him over steaming with desire. His projection was threatening the powdered noses of the ladies in his row. They giggled to assuage the gluttony that danced in their eyes.