Rodney's Nude Humiliation Ch. 17

With slower moves over the glans.

A tighter grip on the stem.

An occasional diversion to the tight ballsac.

He was not slow.

Suddenly the explosion- as a thick white rope flew out high above his head and then fell to splash on his nose and lips and chin. Then a second to hit the space between his pectoral muscles and begin sliding down his torso...and a third, to join the rivulet on his tight bronzed tummy to create a positive mess.

The smell of fresh youthful ejaculate filled the air.

Drenched in snow-white fluid he gazed into her eyes dumb and craven.

She reached down and rescued his tortoiseshell glasses from the floor and poked them into place on a nose that trailed a dangle of thick white ejaculate.

"Goodness, what a mess you've made!" she said, looking at the creamy expulsions that coated him. She tousled his floppy hair. He felt obliged to laugh at his own condition- this disgrace, this nudity, this intimate fluid splashed all over him.

"Well, we'll get you cleaned up. Might be best if I give you a bath..."

He shivered. With excitement or fear was not clear.

Later, in a vignette that recalled many touching scenes from the stories of loving mothers and their budding sons, Gloria knelt by the turquoise bathtub wearing a rubber apron she had found hanging on the door, slowly soaping the recumbent teenager. His eyes were shut, his pert "boy next door" features relaxed into trusting forgetfulness.

She asked whether he was growing to like being naked in front of a dressed female.

He frowned as if the question challenged him. He opened his eyes.

Certainly as she had gently soaped his hairless ballsac, his elegant cock had promptly filled out and curved into its familiar rigidity. Its underside now dominated the seascape above the foamy water: the sizeable stem bronzed by the sun during the Grecian exercise by the lake, a bulging central artery, busy zig zagging veins tracking in all directions.

She intruded her fingers and the sponge under the erection to slowly sponge his pubic bush with a circular motion.

"Er...um..."

His eyes blinked as the delicious sensations took over.

Around and round the patch of hair, lifting the hard as a hammer dick from its anchorage.

"Lots of boys find that the shame of nudity..."

She waved her hand over his naked form.

He nodded to show he was following her argument.

"...gives them a sneaky kinda excitement..."

His eyes widened with recognition.

"...and they come to love being told by a girl or a grown-up lady, maybe even an old lady, to strip off. Strip off completely. Down to the birthday suit."

They both noticed a jolt in his appendage, strong enough to shake off soap suds.

His situation provoked honesty.

"I felt very humiliated..."

His feelings tumbled out.

"...when you caught me, without..."

"Without clothes. In the buff."

"Yes. And boys tell me they like thinking about...about..."

"About being naked around dressed females?"

"Yes. One guy says he gets stiff thinking about being in the play, with moms seeing his cock and balls and ass. Rodney Ricketson and his friends talk about it all the time...caught buff naked...once in a nudist colony, where the females stayed in their clothes..."

It tumbled out. He told her that he always thought about being stripped by the school doctor and it was terrifying when it happened, especially when girls came into the examination room catching him naked and half stiff, but afterwards he just couldn't get it out of his mind and when he recalled the details he got "very aroused." He always loved thinking about being caught naked in the pool by girls. When it happened and they were looking down at his exposed bottom he got very stiff, even in the water.

"Don't worry. All males dream about these things. Except that as far as I'm concerned we can make it happen. I'll be here after dinner tonight. I'll be your mother for the evening..."

His eyes widened.

"...and we'll watch Rawhide together. But you will be in your lovely pink g-string which you like so much. At least for the start of our evening. But boys going nude- under 'total clothing deprivation'- with mummy in charge, is the way things work in Brewer."

Later, with a towel around his middle, he let her out the front door. His mood was chastened, obedient, submissive.

"I'll have to call Jimmy Fraser and postpone our date. He'll be crestfallen."

She reached out and tugged Glen's towel lose and shook it free to fall at his feet.

Horrified he sheltered behind the half open door. Just in time. A car driven by a local mom packed with girls motored slowly by.

She winked at the embarrassed naked youth sheltering. "All the females in Brewer would pay good money to see what I've just seen of goody goody, church-goer Glen Christopher. Real good money."

There was the tap tap tap of high heels on the pavement, behind the shelter of the ancient oak. Then around the corner of the door, over Gloria's shoulder, Glen saw two female evangelists making their way. Hatted, gloved, full of Christian cheer they bore pamphlets about the second coming.

Gloria looked over her shoulder to see them hesitate about what house they would approach.

"But it's a secret, safe with me. See you at eight."

She took off home.

He quickly slammed the door as the female evangelists swung into the entrance path.

He panted, tucking the towel once more around his waist. His confession to Gloria about his dreams and fantasies had only scratched the surface.

What had happened today had been life changing. After what she had done to him, perhaps he was game enough to let one of these dreams happen in real life, one of the sweet, sweet reveries?

In the movie theatre of his mind it had always run like this. The only person at home on this weekday is the son, a shy young man. He has a nice physique and well-developed genitals and dreams of showing them off to females. He's taking a shower. Suddenly the doorbell rings. He's forced to dash through the empty house with a towel hurriedly tied at his waist.

Yes, to open the door...to face full-on a female selling encyclopaedias. Or a woman survey-taker asking "What is your favourite TV program?"Perhaps canvassers for charity, or two dried up old ladies with religious literature.

And then, just as he faces the female presence, always and inevitably in the waking dream, the knot of that towel loosens of its own accord...

...for a second seems to hang in the air...

...and then slithers...

...and unfolds down his legs...

...with the wretched male, standing framed in the doorway three feet from shocked female eyes...

...frozen in place...

...seeing female eyes lower to stare right at his midriff and widen like saucers. Gleeful. Intrigued by what's now on view.

Glen's heart beat with the possibility.

He loosened the knot of the towel so recently created. Shook it loose around his waist so it just held. The ends just- by the gentlest pressure- just stayed together. Threatening to separate any second.

His cock was poking its front

The doorbell rang.