Nude and Erect

This thought stirred the boy. His penis jolted closer to his abdomen. Moisture appeared from his meatus, spilt down the shapely glans. She noticed, plainly. But...she did nothing. And after more talk she invited him to dress, gave him an envelope and a package with the remains of the home-baked pie and bid a warm farewell, saying how deeply she looked forward to future meetings arranged through Clement.

Back in the garden Clement told him he must now pay another visit and this one, too, would be a regular, twice a week.

Two 69 year old twin sisters- thin, fragile, dainty, looking like Mamie Eisenhower- suggested the boy strip completely as soon as he arrived in their fragrant apartment, with its vases of giant lilies and silver-framed photographs of their deceased general father, a friend of Pershing's from World War One. Standing on the polished mahogany floor he dropped his overalls and quickly whisked off his undershorts to present himself nude. "Good gracious," one sputtered. Under their gaze he quickly became erect, and the sight plainly electrified them. "Just like in the garden this morning," one giggled to the other.

They had him sit, still unbathed and pungent, on a reproduction recamier couch, they on either side, dressed in elegant house gowns and smelling of rosewater. They had never married but had apparently enjoyed numerous "flings" with officers. In old age the practice of black gardeners tending to their needs figured big in their lives. Where would they be without?

They gushed over him.

Their tiny, painted fingers danced on the coronal ridge and tickled the frenulum of his ceiling-pointer, ran delicately up and down the shaft, caressed the furrows of the voluminous sac feeling his proud testicles ("You'll be a good breeder," trilled one) and twirled the kinky hair in his greasy groin. He found it delicious. Negro girls never took such trouble, they just lay there, trying to trick you into marriage. The widows then moved upwards to play with his nipples, two hands teasing his two black pointers to erection- and in a flash he discovered that those big buttons were there for sheer pleasure. Then they tickled his ribs and flickered across his abdomen...while nervously he sat between them, trying not to spill his glass of strawberry milk.

Four sets of hands, and their sweet babbling about "his beautiful manly form," on top of the excitement with ancient and adorable Gwendolyn Parchment, saw him quickly and decisively explode. And as his neck stretched back in astonishment he saw them compete to lick up his sperm from chest, abdomen and groin. He recovered his erection immediately and one of the sisters retreated. This was to allow him to satisfy the other...on the couch. When she dropped her gown her body, from the shoulders, was as smooth as a 20 year old's. Her magic fingers- greenish veins on ivory white hands- had him erect again. She guided it by the sculpted black glans into her juicy recess. This was a game he was familiar with, played out with girls his own age, and after his earlier explosion he was able to keep going until the old lady was gasping and panting, legs thrown over his moist back.

It was to happen like this, on each visit to the old twins, all summer.

A big boned and heavily built lady, widow of an admiral- his erection sprang in his overalls as soon as he saw her blond locks- always answered the door fully nude, her sprawling ivory-white flesh and bursting yellow pubic curls on display. Marianne was 55 and her special game was to be seen, to be seen being taken by a black youth, seen by by passers-by. On one occasion she invited a Jehovah Witness couple to call at her screened garden door with their Watchtower magazine at 3pm...which was why she carefully positioned herself lying on the kitchen table with Tom standing at the table, pounding her vagina. The couple chose not to stay and witness, and beat a silent, horrified retreat, assembling prayers.

On another day, teenage missionaries from the Mormons, in white shirts and black ties, did appear to hesitate longer than necessary in full view, through the screen door, of Tom fucking Marianne against the refrigerator while she panted and exclaimed about "black prick." She later told him that, watching over his shoulder, she saw their sainted eyes bulge with desire, even claimed that as they backed off they revealed punchy erections in their regulation trousers.

When she arranged the same show for Father Patrick O'Gorman, a pink-faced, white-haired Jesuit, the lovers heard him muttering to himself in whiskey breath and, rattling the door, try to join their frolic and, Marianne later swore, hectically masturbating before he slumped off back to the presbytery. She once invited two companions, a male couple- a young writer called Gore and his friend, a singer, called Howard, both from New York- to sit in her bedroom in kimonos and watch Tom and her in an extended, drawn-out session. Tom did not object to being watched, but ruled out anything else with the men.

As Tom drove hard into the fleshy midriff of his hostess he felt a big male hand fondling his left buttock. He furiously flicked it off. Afterward Gore, the writer, said that he had glimpsed Tom's huge testicles between his thighs as he "stoked away" and said that he had always "loved the rear view...like being backstage during a performance." Tom shyly padded off to his clothes, the eyes of the male couple all over him and the smell of their ejaculations rising from their laps. Marianne sprawled luxuriously on the sheets, a faraway look in her eye, an open copy of William Faulkener's Light in August next to her reading lamp.

Mrs Leonora Pendleton, widow of a captain, welcomed him in a glorious exhalation of gin. In bed she told him how when she had been living with her husband on a southern base, her horse, Firebird, had been stabled and trained by a part Cherokee private called Williams. One day in the woods she had glimpsed him stark naked- without a stitch- seated on her roan, circling a forest glade. Naked on horseback. "He was riding like he was one with the pony, his body had pure-cut lines, his long, straddling legs, muscled like those of a colt."

She had peeped from the dark woods as the soldier dismounted, walked around the horse and stroked it, an image of an ancient native world. His private parts swinging between his shapely legs, his body brown all over.

Since that glimpse, she said, replacing her glass on the nightstand next to a pint bottle of rye and a whiskey jigger, she had been infatuated with the physiques of lieutenants and privates. "With their concave bellies," she whispered, curling over his reclining body with her tongue poised.

But it was the apartment of Miss Gwendolyn Parchment- she of the gray-blond hair, the flinty features and flashing blue eyes- that he grew to love the most. On his second visit he had shyly suggested he could come more often if she wanted and she had eagerly agreed. Three times a week- it was to grow to four- their routine never varied and he grew so comfortable that in her sheets he now slept instantly, and loved being woken to the sensation of them being drawn back.

She never asked him to wash even when he thought he must stink like a mule, always watched as he peed and, on one urgent occasion, did something more. Unfailingly she praised his big artery, the shape of his glans, the sprawl of his testicles. She was never to lay a hand on him, not even on the splendid occasion when as she spooned him ice cream a quantity slid out of the spoon and fell on his erection, to drip over his sculpted glans and trail down its stem. She took a wet cloth from the kitchen and delicately gave it to him to clean up, watching him carefully.

She did say a niece from the north, a girl called Veronica, an art history major, would be coming to stay, and she was looking forward to meeting him. Tom shivered with fear and fascination at the thought of a young woman his age joining their adventures in the apartment. What would it be like...shucking out of his clothes in front of her? Having her share his smell? Having her stare at his groin? Watch him as he pissed? His penis hardened.

Then, before the end of summer, Tom's father told them they were leaving their one-horse farm, moving to the North. It was Mrs Parchment that Tom was going to miss most bitterly.

Now at the pool...

...with the rich Savannah experience in his veins...

...and months without any sex or companionship or nakedness in the delightful presence of female eyes...

...Tom, as much an automaton as the others, grabbed his erection, looked defiantly at Ada Braithwaite, and massaged the stout black bludgeon.

He came in a flash, a huge emission splashing on his shoulders and neck, like spilt cream on the shiny bonnet of a black Kustom roadster, then other spasms sending his white stuff to the tiles, close to his audience.

And at his side, Samson's broomstick erection shot forth a heavy load going further than any other, hitting Millicent's beautiful shift and making the girl shriek. A second cannonade flew forward and made shrieking girls dive in all directions before it skidded on the tiles. The spray continued with a third blast. And then right out of the red-brown head of his broomstick prick there positively drooled a long thick stream of spunk, all the way to the tiles. The white fluid just hung off the end of his erection while he slumped, dead-eyed and dazed and distracted.

It was all happening in a flash.

Every boy was on automatic pilot, so excited he could not control himself. The "little ones" had performed admirably, Carl Harlson shyly sending a big handful of the stuff shooting so high the first deposit hit his face and drained off his nose. "Oh, so so sweet," was the cooing comment from several of the girls gathered by his side, admiring the performance of the pint-sized member on the athletic young man. And Stevie Lynton, blushing terribly at his evil deed, found that his sisters' friend Sally was fussing over him, taking her floral-edged silk handkerchief and drying off the end of his still rigid prick, tut-tuttering, and he found that he was lapsing into babyhood as he let her do it and he gave into thinking that his sisters themselves might supervise him in this fashion and it might be shamefully thrilling and while the silk handkerchief did its work his small member stiffened all over again.

One hand on his hip, chewing on gum, Kerry Fulbright worked his tilting penis. He was enjoying showing off his chunky young muscles which he knew from admiring himself for hours in the mirror were pretty darn nice, and thrilled to the girls hypnotic staring at his chunky prick and its jaunty tilt to the right. Then! A healthy load whispered like a jet through the air and caught Gloria Smedley right on the breast of her chequered tucked-in blouse, standing off on the side as she was. Warning! Be careful of the jaunty angled erection, thought Ada, when IT unloads it'll catch you unaware. Kerry stood, both hands on hips chewing his gum, his penis trailing fluid from its meatus, looking defiant. At home this afternoon, he thought, I'll go naked in my room daring my sisters or Mom to burst in, leave the window wide open when I shower tonight to give the old lady next door a full frontal view, in the morning jog shirtless through the neighbourhood when the Moms are getting home from shopping...truth is, he thought, I like showing off.

A tortured Danny Bristol Jnr showed a downward bending six inch banana cock could produce a massive load, even as its owner cringed with shame and embarrassment and dread at having his big secret revealed for ever. He sprayed all over the tiles in front of him. And Jason Cho stood shamed in profile, half hiding as he sought relief from the eyes of so many American females. He suddenly shook with a loud "Grrrrrrrrr...ahhhhhhhh!" and too ashamed to send his spunk flying in the full view of these haughty American girls he captured it with his hands, the sticky white stuff flowing from between his fingers and bubbling out of his grip. Girls around him laughed out loud at the antics of the silly Asian boy- God! Who would ever want to go out with him, although it was sweet to catch him nude and see what an Asian looked like. Well, Susie Smyth wanted to pursue him. She liked the smooth coffee coloured skin, the perfectly proportioned penis, the fact that it stood up permanently. Inspected thus, she would invite him on a home visit...yes, when the rest of the family were on a picnic.

The rest of the platoon of boys were efficient, moving like automatons up and down their shafts until whoosh! Splash! Gasp! It happened, and for the most part they slowly raised their guilty, shamed faces to see the triumphant female observers catching them in the eye.

More than one girl fell in love with the owners of the ostentatiously little ones. Looking at Carl here is what Laura Christensen speculated about: "Yes, I'd love him as a boyfriend, a boyfriend with a tiny penis...I'd love the moment when he reluctantly slides his pants down for me and shyly warns me he has a somewhat small cock...I'd savor the moment when he nervously sees me inspect it...I'd gently lift it, look at it quizzically...then declare I was so relieved he had a little one...and watch his pathetic relief...and lie that I always hated and feared a big penis...then tell him my brothers had really big ones and see him deflated...make him worry that I'd tell the other girls...and even threaten I'd do it if he let me down...and keep him anxious...and of course watch him play football and basketball and smile at the little secret flopping inside his shorts...and dole out knowledge to my girlfriends when we talked about our boyfriends...and make them gasp and press for more details...'What real, real, real little?' ...holding their little fingers up...knowing how he'd be devastated if he knew I talked about it..."

She knew he was shy and had no girlfriend, despite his ravishing Viking looks and athletic build. She resolved there and then she would recruit him to go to church socials (he had an image as a worshipful young man) and one day everything she was hoping- in a parked car or on a sofa- would come to pass. "Come on, just let me see...no, I swear, Carl sweetie, I never liked big ones...saw 'em on my brothers..."

The girls had plenty to look at.

With attention elsewhere Stevie Lynton was standing stock still while his sisters' friend ran her fingers up and down and around his very rigid little penis, even- and it sent him wild- tickled his little scrotum and then tickled the hairy patch on his abdomen. She had mopped his stick clean with her floral edged handkerchief, all the while telling him he was a very naughty little boy and had to accept his sisters would hear everything. Now her fingers, gently flicking around his glans, corona and frenulum- prick head and banjo strings- had brought him to an ecstatic state. Eyes screwed shut and weak in the insides he heard her whisper, "Now Stevie things are going to change at home. Beginning next Saturday afternoon when your loving Mom is out playing bridge. Your sisters and I will draw the blinds in your living room...make sure the doors are locked..."

Now her fingers were running the length of his shaft. Ooooohhhh, it felt delicious.

"...and ask you to stand before us and slowly take off all your clothes and hand them over...yes, sweetie, your shirt first and the girls are going to get very excited at the first sight of your hairy little chest and tummy...and then...well, the other things...and you will be very embarrassed...especially when your underpants come down, won't you now?"

He nodded weakly, eyes screwed, heart beating. Up and down her fingers were tickling his penis stem.

"Because that's when your sisters will see all of this here...and they'll probably have a good giggle being girls...and this will be the first time they've seen you in the nude...and they will want to have a real close look not having boyfriends and all...and you will be embarrassed at having such a sweet little thing...and go very red in the face...and want to die of shame..."

One hand flickered around the underside of his scrotum venturing into his perineum...Holy Jesus! And if that weren't enough...her other fingers had returned to the glans, and the things she was saying were making his tummy flip over and his knees go weak and his penis dribble sticky fluid...

"So you'll be modelling and posing in your birthday suit for us...and they'll love to inspect your body hair...only naughty boys get hair on their tummies, I bet...boys with lots of dirty thoughts and dreams...they make the hair sprout...and like all girls they'll just love seeing their brother's cock and these cute little balls in this little bag of yours...they'll want to feel it all...and don't worry they'll be as gentle as I'm being now...you like what Im doing dont you, sweetie?"

He could only manage a lame, shut-eyed, far-off, "Yes." Because he didn't want her to stop.

"Oh we'll be very gentle with our little boy..Look you all over...and a peek at your bottom..."

Stevie nearly choked at this suggestion and his knees nearly went. But now her fingers flickered between his legs towards his bottom hole and the other hand circled his cock and moved lightly up and down. He was lost, and at her disposal.

"Yes, we'll check your bottom hole...just to see if that's hairy too...what's wrong with giving all your little secrets up to your sisters...once its over, you'll never be embarrassed...we'll lock your clothes away for the afternoon...and your can demonstrate for us...just like you did today for me...we might even want to dress you up, like girls with a doll...some of your sisters' pretty underwear..."

Her hand moved faster up and down the stem while the other probed the entrance to his bottom. The obscene thoughts sent him into a fever.

"...and maybe your mother's maid Magda would join us...I hear she's caught a glimpse of little Stevie without any clothes on..."

Enough! At that very moment, eyes clenched and body rigid, he sent another pearly stream in a trajectory that ended on the tiles.

The tiles all around them were somewhat slimy. All the boys had now exploded.

Ada was suggesting to Coach Compton that her girls might like to pick their favorite boy for sponsorship in swimming meets.

"A few girls for every boy. Recruit other girls to form little fan clubs. Attend training. Cheer him on. Follow his progress. Dry him off. Get photographed with him..."

Rodney gulped uncontrollably. Danny came close to fainting. Carl felt tears of despair. Samson's tummy flipped over. Jason Cho winced as if whipped. This was terrifying.

Coach thought it an excellent idea, his merry little erection- the last standing- perked up.

"Recruiting their moms, sisters..."

Sisters? Stevie felt condemned.

"...but always unencumbered..."

"By swimwear," agreed the coach. "No, that rule about fellas swimming naked is held sacred, by me. Proud, not ashamed- that's our motto."

So it was logical for girls to stroll the ranks and to congregate before the boys they most wanted to sponsor and the liaisons were quickly made, even if some boys, still half-stiff and dribbling, were shy and reluctant. There was no way out for Jason Cho, standing with glued-up fingers before Susie Smyth who told him bluntly she would report him to coach if he didn't meet her and several of her friends at her home after school this very day "for the first meeting of your fans." They would want him to strip down and check his style and see his warm-up exercises. Take photos with him. And, Susie felt tempted to say, get that perfectly shaped prick of yours to stand up again, see its helmet and its brownish band...and make you melt of shame...and have another of those noisy little explosions. Oh, she thought, she loved that "Grrrrrrrrr!" sound he made before he ejaculated in front of them.