Rodney's Nude Humiliation Ch. 10

The blood was surging in his privates.

"Letting females see you naked. And liking it..."

And she kept up her gentle touching- light as a feather- around his two bottom cheeks and his upper thighs. Lighter now, her fingers tickled his crack- his intergluteal cleft- up and down.

He knew that whatever promise he gave today he would return to this filthy idea: being naked in front of fully dressed women, the more embarrassed the sweeter.

His glans fleshed out. His stem lengthened.

Qwen Skite had become terribly excited at the enforced stripping of the young men. She had never had any sexual satisfaction from her post office manager husband who once a week during 15 years of less-than-married bliss would poke his four incher into her vagina and ejaculate in 10 seconds (she now counted.) Looking at the inflating, stretching genitalia of this fetching young man her eyes were popping with curiosity...and something else. But she did not stop her circular tickling, working especially the curve of his buttocks and up and down the cleft. And she now stepped up her talk, right into the boy's ear.

"It's the idea of being caught with your pants down, I guess. Hopeless, helpless. Trapped. With girls looking, and making fun. Just like now, Rodney..."

His stem filled out, lengthened and lifted itself from his balls.

She was watching, smiling distantly, lightly flicking finger tips all over his bottom.

Hell, he was stiff again. Trapped, hands locked behind his neck.

It jerked up. Pointed out.

Three girls moved in, staring wide-eyed. Two ladies also joined Mrs Skite who was staring hypnotised, as if at a snake charmer's pet serpent. The girls positioned themselves in front, also staring down at his groin. Across the room he could see his mother looking, frowning. Angry, as if disgraced by her son again.

His penis jerked up some more. Oh God, he thought, as he saw the girls smirk. It was now roof-beam hard, parallel to the floor. All nine inches.

Meanwhile across the living room Kerry had been told to stand with his back to a sofa of four seated ladies, with standing schoolgirls. And he was to stand there, hands locked at his neck, letting them have a good, long look at his reddened ass. Look- and reach out too, and pat it, stroke it, flick fingers over it.

The pleasure of those lingering, travelling fingers! Mixed in with the pain!

In a few jolts- Jesus, three of them were touching his ass at once! - his prick jerked up, parallel to the floor. Around the room ladies were swivelling to catch it. Their eyes focused on his erection. And their looks excited him. They were looking at his erect member. So, in a few more quick jerks his cock was defying the laws of gravity, standing tall...and aslant.

His angled erection. Seven inches. Hard as a hammer.

His jaunty slant.

The drooling emission, running like a spider web to the carpet.

The ladies on the sofa and the girls around them, fingering his ass, figured that something was happening in front.

"Turn around, Kerry," instructed old Miss Stevens. Oh no, he thought, they'll see everything. Close up.

But Kerry had no alternative. He turned, wheeling his stiff member into view.

Some of them gasped. Craned, to see it close. Miss Stevens raised a lorgnette to her beady, inquisitive eyes and stuck her neck out. Girls giggled behind cupped hands. The poor boy blushed and hung his head, hands locked behind, putting his secret on display for them: his elegant, streamlined seven incher, leaning to the right.

Standing a little out of the main arena, Mrs Lanbourne was lavishing affection on Stevie. The boy was still snuffling, tears spilling out of his eyes, eye lashes stuck. His bottom was the reddest. And Mrs Lanbourne, the middle-aged lady with the beautiful lambent brown eyes and the long elegant nose, reached out and lay an arm across his shoulder, drew him closer into the circle of her sultry perfume and fragrant clothing. With her other hand she slowly, tenderly, deliciously stroked his red bottom.

And gently spoke into his ear.

"Darling..."

The word made him melt to water.

"...my little sweet Stevie...oh, I was so sorry for my favorite boy...seeing you over these laps...all your clothes off...getting a spanking...turning red...oh, it feels so hot down there! Your bottom! I thought, my poor little fella...all he wants...my little Stevie...is an older lady...to take good care of him...and cuddle him and kiss him for all he's worth...and, yes, let him run round with all his clothes off like all boys want, in their heart of hearts...and even let his little thingie get good and hard if he wants..."

And she snuggled him in closer and kissed his wet cheek. All the while, tickling his bottom.

Stevie was erect in a flash.

He hid his stiff member in her skirts. Pressed it in, felt her skirts enfold it.

Her arm around his shoulder tightened.

"...and, yes, give him a spanking when he deserves it...with all his clothes taken from him and put away in my deepest cupboard...a lovely nude spanking...little 18 year old boy over my knee...but a sweet and loving spanking..."

Stevie felt his insides turn to warm, melting honey. Standing there, enclosed by her arm on his shoulders, he pressed his penis even more firmly into this lovely lady's thigh.

"...yes, I'd keep my little Stevie nude in my house all afternoon...while he munched his milk and cookies...while he helped me make a cake, did my housework...while he sat down and did his homework...my naked, little boy...with his nice hairy body...and his manly little penis, all stretching and standing tall..."

Stevie pressed harder, rubbed a bit. She must feel it, he thought.

She gave his cheek a warm, wet kiss, licking up his drying tears, her arm around his shoulder.

Stevie felt his stuff- his sperm- surge out of his tight balls...along his stem...

And she continued, pouring the delicious words into his ear: "Yes, I'd keep my little Stevie in his birthday suit...right until my two grown-up girls get home from the typing pool...oh, won't they love to play with a little brother...a grown-up little boy with hair all over him...his secrets on display...yes, those girls of mine...no boyfriends yet...how they'd love to kiss and cuddle and tickle little Stevie...on the sofa, stark naked in my living room..."

The word picture was so thrilling that in one quick heave from his penis Stevie ejaculated, right into the folds of Mrs Lanbourne's midnight blue satin, full skirted dress, glob after glob sprouting out, as if from a drinking fountain, as he pressed his stiff little dick harder and gasped and choked and murmured. And she grasped him tighter around his shoulder and pressed her big lips into his cheek.

"That's it little fella, let it happen...atta boy...yes, another one...oh, you're a real little mothers's boy..."

And she had a fringed pocket handkerchief out of her purse in a jiffy and was deftly scooping the streams of his fluid from her skirts, neatly and surgically, all the while holding him to her big breasts while he panted and snuffled, close to tears.

Mark was surrounded too. Hands behind his head. And being bottom-tickled. By girls and a lady. Tickle, tickle, tickle went their pointy fingers and jolt, jolt, jolt went his ample prick. Females in front of him looked, gasping and giggling, at his now entirely erect member. And wasn't the poor fella embarrassed! Especially when he saw his disapproving mother looking across the room, at what was happening in his groin.

Nasty Milly Slink, with her Coke bottle glasses, caught his eye, with her gimlet expression and cruel smile. She had swiped glimpses of his trouser front when he had entered their classroom and had melted with desire when Mark's sisters had opened their photograph album to show her and their other friends the riveting collection of photos- Mark buff naked and erect walking the length of the school pool in delicious profile, Mark stark naked standing on the starting blocks his penis pointing straight ahead parallel to the water, Mark wearing the medal around his neck smiling weakly while his mother clutched his right arm and his aunt his left with his formidable penis stretched to the ceiling showing off its voluminous underside.

Now she stood right in front. She was seeing the real thing.

"Boy oh boy, you must be embarrassed!"

He hung his head.

"Mark, look...me...in...the...eye! Or I tell your sisters all about today!"

Shamefully, blushing, he obliged. Right into her mean Coke bottle eyes.

"That's better, Mark...good boy..."

And she bent over, leaning in close, and studied his privates as if memorising them: the big, fat head, the thick shaft, the blond curls, the network of veins, the dangling ballsac and its drooping contents so clearly outlined.

The other ladies and girls grouped around him chuckled indulgently at the ravenously curious schoolgirl. She was so plain, unlikely ever to marry, but full of such healthy feminine instincts, such an animal appetite, as she crouched, staring right at the poor boy's equipment. Mark felt her enlarged eyes prowl over him- his penis stem, his fleshy glans, his dangling sack- like crawling insects.

Across the room his mother glared. Behind him the tickling and stroking of his curves and crack continued, playful and insistent.

In another corner the Doris Day-lookalike, Delcia Forrest, was saying to Rodney, "Bet you wish they had allowed you to stay in that jock strap." He was surrounded by ladies and girls, eyes aglow, intent on close-up observation. And he was hard as a roof beam, rearing up at 45 degrees, showing off his voluminous underside, and leaking a transparent fluid, trailing to the floor.

"Yes, Rodney, I loved that jockstrap," Delcia was whispering into his ear. "And I want you to come around when Mom and Dad are out and model it for me. At home. Me, and my friends, and my older sister and my cheeky aunt. And you never know what I might want to do in return. But in the meantime I love seeing you...like this!"

And she gestured at his groin which, in fact, the whole female group was staring at.

It was his penis knob- enlarged and mushroomy and mauve- that demanded their attention, that and the low hanging testicles. Oh, the thick, white, ribbed and veined stem also had its admirers; that could not be denied.

How big- how fat- how delicious- thought Mrs Dunne about the boy's organ as she stared from under her box hat with drooping flower. Fingering her pearls she imagined how it might probe at one's vagina, gaining entrance, producing voluptuous sensations. She thought of her own bookkeeper husband, short and bald and thin, and his foreshortened member, all red and angry when it emerged from its oily black sprouting hair. She bent forward, drawn by the mushroomy look of Rodney's sculpted, decorative glans.

Rodney was feeling acute humiliation and that other, increasingly familiar sensation as well: a curdling excitement of this shame, the shame of females inspecting his enforced nudity. Hell, they were leaning in...all of them...peering and staring! He could...feel their breaths on it!

The trickling flow of telltale fluid increased, and trailed to the floor.

Mrs Reilly ordered that it was now time for the four boys to be seated next to their Moms on the settees. The maids appeared with fleecy white towels and laid them out and sons and mothers arranged themselves, blushing boy next to his expectant Mom and all the other females gathering, standing and smirking, elbowing one another for the best views.

Then the maids appeared again with...goodness, plastic gloves! Yes, and big jars of Ponds Cold Cream! For each of the Moms!

There were gasps and giggles of delight.

Dr Speight stood in the space between the two settees and announced, "These boys have been caught in the throes of group masturbation. And you have all inspected the literature that they were using. So now they will be punished. In the only way they will understand, the only way that we know from our studies produces permanent behavioural change: they will be masturbated by their long suffering mothers in front of females. Females their own age..."

Here she paused and caught the eyes of several of the heavily breathing school girls who beamed back at her.

"...and older women, the age of their mothers."

The boys sat lugubriously, side by side with their Moms, thighs spread wide (on the orders of Mrs Reilly and Dr Speight) erections displayed, testicles on view. They stared ahead, miserably.

The room was hushed.

Stevie caught the beautiful, sympathetic eyes of Mrs Lanbourne and felt wet in his tummy and wonderful all over his skin. Even after he had exploded in her skirts he had got stiff again, with all the sweet word pictures she had painted for him- naked in her home, helping her in the kitchen like a nude little son, on the sofa nude for her daughters to play with! And delicious loving spankings! His penis watered...but a glance at Rodney, Kerry and Mark showed he was by no means alone. Shit, Rodney had a string of clear fluid falling from his penis hole to his navel, hanging like a rope bridge over a canyon.

The doctor told the mothers to don the plastic gloves. Quickly that was done with the usual telltale sounds: snap, snap, snap, snap. She then told them to take a handful of cold cream.

She let things pause.

The mothers' right hands shone with the gooey, snow-white fluid. They waited for instructions.

The four boys trembled.

Kerry caught the eyes of girls in his class, staring and smirking, flicking between his cock- rigid and aslant, showing off the big underside tube and the banjo strings of his frenulum- and his face. Fuckin' girls...from his class, catching him nude and erect! He would never be able to look them in the eye again.

Then Dr Speight delivered her order.

"The mothers will now apply the cold cream to the penis shafts..."

There was a shudder from all the females at the explicit, clinical language.

She repeated the words, at once so thrilling to the females and so terrifying to the four boys.

"...the penis shafts..."

Another delicious pause.

"...of their sons."

Ominously four mothers raised their gloved, right hands, heavy with the glistening cream.

It was a deeply philosophic moment.

It was a definition of mother-son relations.

What better...what sweeter...the moment argued, than for a Mom's loving hand to settle on the rampant, demanding erection of her teenage boy...and bring him the relief he so urgently craved? In a disciplinary setting, in the shaming presence of females his age and his mother's? But in a setting not without maternal love? In fact suffused with it?

Mark felt his mother's fist firmly enclose the middle of his stem. The cold cream squelched, and squeezed itself out of her fingers. He felt a riotous sensation along his rigid prick. His mother enclosed him firmer still...and moved her hand up and down along the length. Mark caught the eyes of mothers and girls...saw their contempt and superiority...felt a surge of humiliation...just as an irreversible flood rose through his length...and...WHOOSH!

The boy exploded.

The thick, creamy, ropey ejaculation flew high, a foot above his crew-cut, hung in the air and then fell to his forehead, his eyebrows, his freckled nose. Hung there like some Christmas decoration, and another rope of semen shot out and up and hit his chin to hang there like a stalactite, draped, dangling to his sternum. Poor fella, thought Miss Daisy Suckley, he's drenched himself. And a third emission splashed on his tummy.

Kerry's Mom gripped, as if thrilled to hold her handsome son's erection in her eager fingers- the erection so stimulating to her friends and the schoolgirls, elegant and stylish, jaunty and entertaining, cheeky and aslant. And when she felt his fluid gushing up the stem she gripped even harder, with the result that it flew out with compressed force, flew high and hit Mrs Reilly's cut-glass chandelier with a celebratory tinkle. There were gasps from the audience. And then a rope of Kerry's fresh sperm trailed off the Venetian crystal to fall into his ducks-tail hair cut...just as another ropey explosion flew out to drench his chin and chest.

Glaze-eyed as if drugged, his Mom's crinkley, plastic gloved fist moving up and down his stem, Rodney caught a glimpse of Delcia Forrest licking her lips and eyeing his erection: his thick white pole with mauve plum stuck on its end. And he saw the eyes of a dozen other females glued to it as well...and awash with shame he too sent three ropes of sperm flying sky high, to splotch on his oiled red hair, on his shoulders, on his chest...indeed, a trail of his white, creamy fluid was deposited on his erect, right nipple, to droop from it, until it fell into the red curls of his pubic bush.

Stevie saw Mrs Lanbourne's loving glances and, his mother's fist moving slowly up and down his three inch length, he melted inside all over again thinking of the things the nice brown-eyed lady had promised him, and sent a cannonade of seminal fluid into his dense chest hair, another onto his furry tummy, a third to flop into his pubic bush. He appeared to faint while Mrs Lynton gave the head of his penis a delicate squeeze- its diminutive scale suggested delicacy, no, demanded it- and produced a final gobbet.

A sepulchral hush fell on the room.

A mint-fresh scent of semen undulated from the sofas, to wind its way among the reverential females and mix with their sultry perfume, acrid cigarette odour and another smell, warm and intimate, redolent of laundry baskets in female households and the smell of teenage girls' pyjamas ready for the wash.

The boys looked as if they had just had a shock, like being fired from circus cannons, expressions dazed and far-away and unfocused.

Dr Speight then broke the silence.

"Among the girls..?" she asked. "Is there anyone...who is considering a nursing career?"

They were stunned.

It was, as they say, "out of left field."

Milly Slink, gaunt with mousy hair, with eyes enlarged by Coke bottle glasses, half-raised a tentative arm. Shy...and yet determined not to miss any opportunity. Saliva glistened at a corner of her mouth. Good God, thought Dr Speight, the poor girl, plain as pudding, has been drooling. Drooling over the genitalia of these young men. For a moment she felt sorry for them. Drooling, she thought, so I bet that in her panties she's as "damp as a duck."

"So, Milly, you want to be a nurse?"

The girls nodded shyly, half hung her head. Some girls sniggered.

"Very well. In that case, let's give you some practical experience. Please, Betty, get the girl a nice damp towel."

Oh no, thought the boys, sitting on the sofas with the seminal fluid dying on their faces and trunks, matting their pubic hair. No...she can't be telling the girl- this girl, this plain, ugly girl- to clean us up? No, this can't be happening! No, no, no...we don't want to be...touched...by her!

"...and, Milly, you can move over and start to mop these boys up. Just as if you were a nurse looking after 18 year old soldiers in a vets hospital or naughty boys at summer camp. Yes, give them a good wiping down. Starting with..."

The four boys froze. This awful girl, her eyes swimming behind her Coke bottle spectacles, was going to wipe their bodies clear of their ejaculate!

"...starting with Rodney."

Milly swallowed hard. Her eyes enlarged some more. A trickle of moisture slipped from the edge of her mouth. Aware all the eyes were on her she was advancing, a dampened towel over one arm, provided by Betty, the maid.

Advancing.

Advancing on a terrified Rodney who sat, his penis now reduced to a banana-shape, rising from his groin. His belly and face were spattered with congealing sperm.