Nude and Erect

Stevie exploded. As if at the thought of built-up seminal fluid waiting to burst its dam walls.

He clutched Magda's shoulder tight as big globs of semen- whole handfuls of the stuff- danced in the air, splashed in all directions, down to the floor, upwards to hit his chin and chest, to flood his abdomen and thighs, and splosh off onto her apron. One explosion landed on her arm. More bubbled out- filling her hand, gluing her fingers. His diminutive cock had produced a wholesale mess, puddles everywhere.

He felt close to fainting, slumped on her knee.

She squeezed the end of his penis to make a glob more appear. Suddenly he felt less threatened. There was, he dared to hope, little chance she would denounce him to his mother or sisters. Indeed, after she wiped him down with a wet cloth she had fetched from the bathroom, and helped him into his clothes, she said- and he may have misheard- that he should visit her in her attic bedroom some time.

She then left left him to recover, as his mother's car came to a halt in the drive under the window. And she didn't confiscate his beloved Swedish magazines!

In the six months since this happened there was no evidence Magda has breeched their secret. Apart from a knowing glance he caught from her, not a hint of his indecent exposure.

And, now, at the pool...

Stevie was again completely stitchless, facing a female and the inside of his stomach felt an awful queasy mess.

"Goodness, Stevie Lynton in his birthday suit!" Sally Wainwright was so close he felt her breath. "I'm seeing your sisters after school," Sally whispered. "And, don't worry..."

For a second he thought there's hope. Females can keep secrets, like Magda. Girls are generally nice, after all. They'll respect my feelings. They know telling my sisters would hurt me and...

"Don't worry, I'm gonna tell 'em EVERYTHING!"

In his despair he felt a sweet submissive humiliation that made his penis tweak. Lengthen in one little jolt.

But suddenly there was an incident.

Karen Strawbridge had noticed that the boy closest in the pool was the brother of her best friend. She sensed an opportunity. Charlie Hodgson had figured in her under-the-sheet fantasies ; he was one of the boys she had imagined forcing to peel his pants off. And here he was, in his crew cut and nothing else- nude, ass up, in the water. Deliciously trapped. So she started teasing him. And wasn't Charlie Hodgson going red, as the girl pulled faces, smiled lewdly and made gestures towards his floating bottom- white and shapely, displayed on the surface of the water for her delectation, the boy not able to do anything about it and his two glutes just bobbing in the water.

And she's up there, in her tucked-in sweater and pleated high-waisted skirt, laughing at his shameful nudity and pointing to his bare butt, and mouthing something about his sister. Gosh, he felt humiliated! Suddenly the teasing by his ugly bitch, with her red hair in plaits and her cats' eye glasses, was too much. With all the arm and shoulder power of a water polo champion he sent a great spray shooting at the girl, right into her face, the chlorine stinging her eyes. She squealed.

Coach had seen what happened in a flash. "Outta the water this instant! Up here now! You heard me, Hodgson, stand here- and take your medicine!"

Grim-faced the 18 year old boy hauled himself from the pool, his chest on view, decorated with noticeably prominent nipples like pink bullets...then coming into view, his abdomen, with a filigree of dark hair running from his navel...

The girls took a collective breath. The boy paused.

...then a burst of black pubic bush...then the start of a wide white bratwurst with a forceful blue vein running down its dorsal side...then the full-length of his hefty young teenage cock, neatly circumcised the better to show off a very well sculpted reddish glans. He shuffled to face his angry coach, his appendage swaying slightly.

And what a sweet contrast they made: young athlete with his crew cut, white skin and the heavy flaccid sausage flopping out of his hairy groin, his coach with wide over-developed build, golden-skinned, and his punchy little penis erect and curved, jutting from a body as hairless as an egg.

"You are a disgrace," declared Mr Compton reaching out and... pinching one of Charlie's nipples...real hard. The gesture shocked them all. Nipples? Coach is touching him there? It seemed intimate, vaguely obscene. The boy winced at the strange pain. As if encouraged, the coach switched to the boy's other longish pink nipple and gave that a squeeze. Again, the boy winced. "A disgrace to all males, to treat a young woman like that. Stand here, and face the girls..."

He swung him round. The boy was blinking with fear. It seemed the coach was manoeuvring to give the boy...a spanking. Oh, my god, thought Ada Braithwaite, we are about to see a full nude spanking! Both of them, spanker and spankee, stripped off completely! But first Mr Compton seemed to have decided he needed help to hold Charlie in place.

"Two strong girls, Miss Braithwaite, to lock him by the arms. What I'm about to do will have young Mr Hodgson here dancing on the spot."

In a whiff Susie and Millicent were on either side of the captive, panting heavily. They grasped him by his upper arms, their small warm trembling hands holding him very, very tightly. It was as if they had taken him prisoner, like two female police officers with a nude exhibitionist being escorted from a cinema or college library. They smiled broadly as they tightened their grips and looked down on his front...all the way to his groin.

At the perfect moment. The proximity of the girls, the touch of their tight little hands...was having an effect.

In a few decisive jolts the boy's penis was stretching forward to poke ahead, parallel to the floor, an impressive specimen. The girls who held him looked right down on it. It was fish-belly white with a big bold pulsing blue artery down its middle, joined by decorative, smaller subsidiary veins. The whole thing broadened around its middle- where there was a hint of a brown band- to an impressive width, a broad beam, then narrowed to its head. The glans was a strongly sculpted pinkish battering ram but seemed stretched to encompass the width of the boy's appendage.

Girls in the crowd noticed.

"Look," whispered Gloria Smedley to Nan Hooper. "His thing's...sticking out!"

"Jeepers! I think I'd prefer one of those little ones, like..."

And when she looked around she noticed that Tom Wilson, black as coal, and Carl the Viking blond had their "things" getting stiff, stretching to poke at the floor, their owners distraught, looking off sideways to avoid any eye contact as their genitals shamed them. Beyond them the whole platoon of boys was getting stiff "down there." As if...as if some invisible strings had jerked them up and back, to show off their shameful undersides for female inspection.

The girls busied themselves with inspections, walking along the lines of naked fellas hands behind their backs, totally on display.

There was one boy with no visible head to his silky smooth erection: it ended in the untidy pouting lips of stretched prepuce. It seemed to have folds, like the layers of a pastrami and rye, or...if truth be told, thought a few of the girls, like our own vaginal lips. But no cap. Oh, and there was a pale boy whose upward rearing penis and dangling sack were khaki. All brown, against a white body, as if to indicate the special wickedness of his pleasuring equipment. There was a short boy with buck teeth who sported a fat, long bludgeon of a prick, standing right up, huge avocados filling a loose sack. The rest of him just looked like it was an add-on to the big fat appendage.

And the tallest boy there, skinny as a post, had a hardon no longer than three inches. He was "aw shucks" cute like MGM star Carleton Carpenter about to burst into "Abba Dabba Honeymoon" or pose with Debbie Reynolds singing "I Want to be Loved by You." He didn't seemed remotely embarrassed, as if his reputation as basketball star would protect his standing. Or perhaps he had shown it off plenty of times before. No big deal, he seemed to be saying, with his gap-toothed smile, I'm a tall, skinny fella who just happens to have a baby dick.

And...oh my god! There was Rodney Ricketson, just down from the blocks, with a full 45 degree erection, the big mushroomy head of the bludgeon- jeepers, it occupied half of the stem- swollen big, his red pubic curls flattened and wet, his testicles still loose and dangling, the big balls packaged inside boldly visible.

The girls staring at him- the girls closest- loved the revelation, as viewed on all those thrilling occasions through his trouser front. Yes, they liked the secret ventral or underside view of his organ...the stringy tissue joining the corona, like banjo strings...the way the fat artery or perineal raphe seemed to take over all of the penis stem, pulsing...and they liked the way the testicles fell down in folds like the ribbing on the vault of a Gothic cathedral. This was the instrument that shredded the boy with embarrassment whenever he was asked to stand in front of the class, the famous "thing" that tented the fly of his trousers or, pointing down, looked like he was sheltering a pole poking off to one side.

The famous Rodney Ricketson penis, now at last on display.

But at that moment coach was arranging two more volunteers to hold his victim in place around his...

...around his legs!

The lucky Christine Kelly and, yes, Karen Strawbridge got this job, on their knees, their hands clutching Charlie by his calves just below his knees. They dug into his lightly furred skin- oh, how they loved that!- but an instinct made Karen lightened her grip and hold the boy with tickling finger ends. She knew how ticklish it would be, just below the knees. Meanwhile they relished a close-up view of the boy's intimate things...and another jolt- caused by Karen's devilish tickles- brought the penis to point upwards, like a ship's cannon.

Wow!

Karen stared at it, and thrilled at the sight of the ventral or underside view of the boy's apparatus and tightened and then lightened her grip, again to have her finger tips play upon Charlie's skin and noticed that the boy's ball sack- she was soooo close to it- was riven with deep furrows, corrugated, and there was a bold seam dividing it into two compartments as if his mother had sewed him up for him only that morning and the head of his penis was ridiculously like a helmet and its sides curled out and up- it was so well defined- and the underside got all stringy where it stretched to the head and...wow! There was another jerk! His penis stretched some more! It was standing up almost flat against his belly as it jerked back.

Mister Compton raised his huge muscled arm, paused and swung it down with astonishing force to strike the boy on a curved, white buttock...the sound of flesh striking flesh was colossal, savage and thrilling. CRASH! The force of the strike lifted Charlie off his feet and made him howl with pain. He burst free of the grip of the two girls holding his legs...and, still restrained by the other two gripping his arms, did a little jig.

It was very funny. The girls laughed out loud at the sight of the naked boy with his erection bolted on to his groin performing a tap dance, tears spilling out of his eyes and a broad white patch on his right buttock...now turning a bright crimson. Charlie, hopping on the spot with pain, suddenly saw Miss Braithwaite's face- contorted with helpless mirth. He had a crush on the lovely 50s-something teacher. But...she was laughing at him. Real, full-bodied contemptuous laughter. At him.

This added sweetly to his humiliation.

The kneeling girls reached out for his legs and, this time, taking deep breaths, scissored him around his thighs, his furry upper legs. Their arms were hooking him now, locking on him. As Karen clamped her's around Charlie's thigh her hand grazed the low hanging fruit of the boy's testicles. She trembled, her crotch now drenching. But she allowed her hand and its fingers to flutter in that space, just under his sack. She lent so close that she was almost kissing his skin. She deliberately breathed hard on it, knowing he would feel it and it would excite him. Both girls- because it thrilled them so much- also pressed their bosoms against the wretched fella's nude thighs. The boy was lost now- four pairs of little girls hands, arms wrapped round his upper legs (and right up high too) their breaths all over him, the blood pulsing through his lower regions from the hand spanking. Their tits now jammed up against his thighs.

The stinging in his bottom.

The humiliation of the nudity.

The looks of the laughing females...

His erection was now a decisive 45 degree point-to-the-ceiling hardon. Blood hardened.

Mister Compton lifted his right arm. And 31 females took deep breaths.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

The blows rained down. Each blast to his buttocks propelled him forward and lifted him high while the girls' vice-like grip kept him from coming loose.

Every blow sent a ferocious new jolt through his penis. From the buried root all the way to the meatus on the end of the glans it vibrated. And...he felt something very familiar while exceedingly out of place in the circumstances. He felt something rising in the stiff tube.

Oh, no!

Crash! Crash! Crash! With all the strength of a state champion weight trainer Mister Compton was turning the boy's posterior a blazing red and nobody noticed that, as he positioned himself for the next blast, the coach's own stiff jutting member would poke at the boy's flesh, just grazing the curve of the buttocks, probing at the boy's intergluteal crease where furry upper thighs gave way to the egg-smooth bottom.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Now the boy was feeling every blow the entire length of his rigid penis and the fluid rise in his urethra. If the spanking didn't stop soon he knew where this would lead. In front of everybody...

Meanwhile didn't four girls enjoy their work, like holding a young horse in place. With every crashing blow on his buttocks Charlie strained to leap and vault out of their hold, but they just tightened, like gripping a frolicsome colt, and laughed away at one another. "We need a bridle!" shrieked Lizzie and all the girls roared. And for the lucky kneeling and their close up view! It seemed they were a nose length away from the rigid white stick vibrating violently with every one of the Coach's flat-handed slaps.

Now every boy was aroused. All 15 of them stood as ordered with hands behind backs, feet apart, with fully engorged members, one hundred percent inflamed, rigidified pricks. All 31 females took in the panorama- amazing! A feast of enforced male exhibitionism, with iron hard erections bolted on to all the groins. There was Carl Harlson's petite but perfectly straight penis, in a 45 degree thrust to the ceiling above its dainty sack. The handsome boy risked shy, teary glimpses of Charlie's punishment but when he saw girls meeting his looks he instantly hung his head. Next to him coal-black negro Tom Wilson sported a stout black pole topped with a shiny black glans, fed by a full artery pumping the length of his underside. His sack, voluminous despite the upper tug of his stiffening, was decorated with deep furrows spreading out from the central seam. And...this sack, like his groin, had wiry, kinky curls.

Pity Danny Bristol Junior who, down from the blocks and excited by all he was seeing and feeling, stood traumatised. His white tube with its purplish crown, resting on the globular peach-like sack, had stretched, fleshed-out. His involuntary stiffness revealed a strong six incher that...curved like a banana. With a decisive bend downwards. No, more than a banana, far more. Look! It bent and kept on bending, to circle, and point with that purplish glans, back at that rounded ball sack!

Within seconds of his erection shaping itself a big party of girls enclosed him, around eight, peering and elbowing and gasping, fascinated, bent over, staring at it. Eyes bulging. One by one, gaining confidence, they lent in closer, just peering. Beatrice Weatherall was short-sighted and her nose nearly touched the poor boy's well-shaped glans- which really made Danny melt with horror- until her companions elbowed her, laughing. And Lucy Childe, with her pert baby-doll features and in a high-waisted plaid skirt and fetching blouse, heard the fuss and bustled over to inspect it close-up and was just thrilled. Imagine, she thought, having a boyfriend with a funny CURVED penis. And, as his girlfriend, you could force him to show it to you and tell him to demonstrate how it stood up and make him talk shame-faced about the silly banana bend and listen as he lamented that he didn't expect to ever have a wife because his thing was no freakish and wouldn't fit into any woman's vagina and beg you, his girlfriend, not to tell any of your friends about it. And of course you would promise but, being a girl, couldn't help blabbing and as word spread you would savour his humiliation..

Lucy resolved at that moment she would become his girlfriend, even camp at his home (she got along famously with Mrs Bristol) until she recruited him to take her to the sock hop and to the movies and to football. She would carefully plan "passion pit" opportunities when she could ease his penis out of his pants and coax the shy boy to talk about it.

Meanwhile...

Stevie's little penis had been one of the first to be aroused- yes, even as he contemplated the shame of having his two cheeky sisters, within hours, hear everything. It stood out and up, and trailed a clear fluid that ran out of the small meatus in his petite glans and drained to the tiles. And next to him, beaming down on his shame was that darn girl, Sally- beaming, and looking sideways to catch his eye, and seeing not just his penis hard as a fountain pen...a leaking fountain pen, at the moment...but the shameful hairs on his small 18 year old's chest and tummy.

The sight of the full nude spanking and his mates' stiffies had Kerry Fulbright's prick firm up even more, a proud point-at-the ceiling hardon. And, all the girls noticed and Ada as well, it still jutted defiantly rightward. A jaunty, tilted penis giving its owner a casual maverick air. Frankly the bad boy had been plainly excited at what had been unfolding, and the fact that girls' eyes had been inspecting him- oh, how that made him shiver with an excited shame. His dirty pleasure produced a strong flow of fluid that moistened his glans and made it shine. I don't care, he thought, let 'em see that as well- boy's dribble from the tip of their pricks when they're excited, and I'm no exception.

Rodney also had lurid thoughts, standing there, attached to his own stubborn erection, watching Charlie's punishment. Delicious dirty thoughts. Like his filthy bedtime fantasies, his old familiar fantasies- like being made to strip for a female doctor or being trapped skinny dipping by a party of senior girl guides. What he was watching was even more thrilling. To be held tight by four naughty girls...stark naked...and to be spanked in front of a whole troop of naughty girls! With an attractive older teacher. All looking and laughing!

Only...thought Rodney, he'd want to be spanked by Miss Braithwaite. Oh, please...yes! And his penis got even harder as a trickle of clear fluid emerged from its head...to be undressed...by girls...and laughed at...and to be spanked...in front of all the girls...by Miss Braithwaite. In a flash Rodney's right hand left its place and flicked over his prick- he couldn't help it- and began stroking. Nobody noticed because at that moment...

Slap! Crash! Slap!

Poor Charlie Hodgson's whole body tightened, his front curved forward from the hips like a bow being pulled tight by an archer, he grunted loudly and out of the tip of his penis he shot off what looked like a handful of white fluid...WHOOSH! It flew through the air- the four girls holding him were astonished by the explosive force- and splashed right onto the polished shoes...of Ada Braithwaite.