Rodney's Nude Humiliation Ch. 19

Should his belt sit up here...or lower, here? Samantha was making the adjustments and wanted advice. What about..? And Betty moved in close and if her knuckle grazed Jimmy's scrotum then that was just an accident although one that made the dangling fire hose penis of the exposed boy shudder...

...and stiffen.

"What about here?" offered Milly, eyes wide as saucers at the movement in the boy's pythonesque organ, tugging the belt as low as the explosion of pubic bush (which her retreating fingers moved through, generating another filling out of the ponderous penis). "No, make it consistent with Mark's," volunteered Samantha, elbowing in and directing 10 exploratory fingers over the boy's midriff- he shuddered at her touch- realigning the belt again, making Jimmy draw in breath. A swift sideways glance at Mark standing blushing next to them, showed that his penis was rigid, at full stand, up at its textbook, regulation 45 degrees. And his expression showed that it was acutely shaming him.

And after Miss Cuff had moved in and jiggled the belt around for an endless time, Jimmy's too was stretching. A magic moment where it poked parallel to the floor made it particularly awe-inspiring, especially as its plushy glans prodded the drama teacher's hoop skirt. Miss Cuff tried to look as if she hadn't noticed but was flushing with some unnamed emotion.

Milly pushed forward ("No, I think we were right the first time") and fiddled some more and while she perfected the positioning of the belt at his waist with her right hand she managed to cup his ballsac with the palm of her left which seemed to coincide with a jerk upwards of Jimmy's stem and acted as an invitation for Betty to move to Jimmy's rear to make adjustments to the belt and allow her fingers to stray all over a pair of suntanned and hairy glutes. All over them. It was this liberty that suddenly sent Jimmy's cock into fierce, vein popping, full stand. Bolt hard, up at the ceiling.

The females stared, smiling and silent.

They moved to Rodney.

Rodney- who stood red haired and muscle-bound like one of the bodybuilders from the pages of Physique Pictorial or Young Adonis, his body painstakingly shaven by Milly and smooth as a statue. Not a hair in groin or on his testicle sac.

But, unlike the Greeks in the art histories, his brawny, full-blooded cock- long and thickset- stood, pointing at the ceiling.

Not surprisingly the females took their time fussing with his snakeskin.

In fact the alignment and realignment of his belt took double the time expended on Mark and Jimmy- girls tugging and pulling, and unbuckling and buckling up again. Each taking some time to work away at his rear- clawing at the belt, straying fingers touching his globes. His glutes, thought Betty, are hard as concrete. You couldn't pry them apart with a crow bar.

Each girl found opportunities to have a stray hand furtively flutter over and along his stem, to flick around his capacious ball sac, to linger on the satiny penis head- all while fussing with the position of the belt.

If the red haired boy's dick could not become stiffer- and that was impossible- the flow of fluid from his smiling meatus certainly gathered pace. It was now a full flow, as from a leaky faucet. As a result a very sticky network of spider webs dangled from his tip and tangled his knees and thighs and feet.

These strings of Cowper's fluid glistened in the late afternoon sun entering from the office window.

Miss Cuff's unsmilingly explained to the girls that boys "suffer" involuntary erections- superfluous given what the four boys were now presenting to their sight but the verb "suffer" thrilled them, as much as it shamed Rodney and his pals. Miss Cuff said that being nude in front of a teacher and girls at his age would set off "urges and instincts" that "poor Rodney" could not restrain. And the release of Cowper's fluid was a consequence although in this boy's case, sadly, there was no doubt the quantity was unusually strong.

Rodney shut his eyes with the shame and came close to groaning as the humiliation washed over him. And, as he felt the fingers of the girls across on his midriff and along his cock and over his balls and ass cheeks and their breaths all over his chest, his throbbing excitement only became more irreversible.

The girls suppressed their smiles. Noting his embarrassment and looking at the spiders' webs entangling the poor boy's lower regions, they could only think how lucky they were in their tartans and florals, their pencil and hoop skirts tightly cinched at their waists, their saddle shoes and bobby socks...

...while these four fellas are stark naked.

And then, emboldened, they turned their attentions to Stevie Lynton, trembling before them.

Fussing over his belt, drawing out his treatment, allowing fingers to stray through his body hair, knowing that Miss Cuff behind her grimace was enjoying this as much as they, the girls had every incentive to be bold. So if Samantha cupped Stevie's wiry, little sac and Betty allowed her fingers to run up and down his greasy stem- all while their other hands tugged the belt up and down- then they had every reason to think they were engaged in good work.

Stevie's excitement at being the centre of things had its inevitable denouement.

His eyes closed, his body tensed and with an "Uggggggh!" he delivered an explosive emission that doused the dresses of Betty and Samantha, made all start like frightened deer and caused Miss Cuff to scowl.

In was therefore with the mint-like flavour of the young man's spillage wafting in their nostrils that the teacher dashed off her official notes. For Mark, Jimmy and Rodney notes to present at Mrs Reilly's to assist in her gala fete (that is, the scrotal celebration and contest) and for Jimmy and Stevie to have their bodies shaved like those of the other boys acting as smooth-skinned Cherokees in her musical. Notes, also, for all four to present at Mrs Carruthers' to be fitted with the official embroided Indian-motif belts. The seamstress and her assistant Yuela were working on them as we speak, said Miss Cuff. And if the girls see a role for themselves at the fittings....

Samantha, smiling superciliously, took it on herself to mop up Stevie's ropey deposit from the floor, several untidy lakes of shame, drawing out the process to embarrass him further. Naked, paralysed with humiliation the other three might take consolation in Shakespeare's words, "Not to be the worst stands in some rank of praise."

Part Four: Sore balls for boys at Mrs Lanbourne's.

When Stevie told Mrs Lanbourne about how he had to find a girl to shave him she said she would help. He was due for a piano lesson and one of those afternoon teas with a circle of girls. On half a dozen occasions she had organised such gatherings. It gave him those experiences in nudity and exposure and humiliation that he loved so much, and which girls found so entertaining and exotic. Him joining them naked as a jay, playing the piano in that condition, sitting with them for tea, being spanked over the knees of girls, being helped towards a joyous conclusion...and, when they had acclaimed his big ejaculation ("My! So much from such a little organ!") being washed down by girls with a wet cloth and dried off with a dry one.

His time, with Mrs Lanbourne's encouragement, he was bringing with him tall, gaunt Jimmy Fraser. Right now, the deep-voiced boy's big Adam's apple jerked in his neck, alarmed by what might happen.

Specifically the loss of his body hair. Jimmy needed to be shaved too.

Milly Slink was to be one of the girls in attendance, experienced in shaving boys.

How thrilling for a dozen girls drawn from schools other than Grover Cleveland, who had only heard speculation about the nude discipline at that school in Brewer- to be seated in a circle in the fragrant and delicate living room of Mrs Lanbourne, reaching for tea or cakes. A circle of girls, some Doris Day lookalikes. But there were some pudgy with padded hips and puffball hands and some broomstick thin with flat chests who might never in their lives get to see a boy naked.

But now, sitting in the circle were two young men...

...totally in the buff...

...naked as Adam...

...a tall, thin boy under black hair styled like Elvis, with a fierce black pelt on this chest and abs, shyly answering their questions with his bass-baritone voice trembling with nerves and embarrassment...

...sitting with his naked bottom planted on a lyre-backed dining room chair, a fat penis stretching between his thighs...

...girls on either side, not staring directly but savouring sidelong glances into his groin...

...and a little fella, a pet of their hostess, a mat of curly dark hair all over his body (what Mrs Lanbpurne called his "cave man's chest") and a three inch penis sticking up at 45 degrees from his lap, moisture at its reddish tip...

...sitting there, with the girls taking furtive, naughty sidelong swipes at his stubbornly stiff little cock...

...all of them dressed as if for an afternoon at the soda fountain, in skirts falling well below the knee- pleated skirts, full skirts over layers of fluffy crinoline, or straight long pencil skirts. Some in "shirt waist" dresses, set off by twin sweaters, Peter Pan collars and bead necklaces, many of the dresses with wide cinch belts to emphasise narrow waists.

And the two boys were naked as jays.

Reduced to their "birthday suits."

Any girl like me will have to struggle not to stare, thought Sally Coffin who studied at the convent school in East Brewer, an all-girl establishment. And yet her eyes could not stop wandering, especially into the space between the hirsute thighs of the tall boy...sitting opposite. Where something hefty was rearranging itself...python-like.

And yet before long Mrs Lanbourne, this charming older lady with lambert brown eyes and long elegant nose, was asking the young men to stand and walk the circle and show off their attributes so she could educate the young ladies. When Jimmy stood his penis jutted parallel to the carpet and- roped with thick blue veins, brawny and sinewy- it won a lot of...well, gluttonous, ruttish looks. It looked as if it might be 12 inches long.

"He's totally in his birthday suit!" thought Jeanette Scheurl, who had never seen such a thing in her home town of Lanesboro where she attended Fillmore Central High. "And that...thing! Poking out!"

Her insides churned with lubricious stirrings.

Fluid seeped from her panties and soaked her upper thighs.

Mrs Lanbourne gave a lecture on the male sexual apparatus. She said girls must know these things because one day they would be wives and mothers. These nice young men were here to help. Their presence- naked, sitting here in their company- meant you girls could see things close up. The lady got busy, identifying all the parts of their organs of generation.

Stevie, for example, was asked to stand and lift up his sac and stretch it... to show off both marble-sized testicles. And to walk the circle just doing that. Girls found this very educational. There was, sadly, some sniggering at the diminutive size of his equipment compared with that of his buddy. Then Mrs Lanbourne asked him to walk the circle again- yes, complete another circuit- and show off the Cowper's fluid that bubbled out of his meatus.

Susie Kretschmar, from Grand Marias with its 1400 population, could not believe she would ever see such a sight: a boy in the nude...showing off his organ...a clear fluid flowing from its little slit! She felt an urgent itch, just inside her very wet vagina.

Mrs Lanbourne had Jimmy do the same but press his erection flat against his abs- how commanding it now looked!- to show his frenulum, the bunch of banjo strings on the underside of his prick attached to the heart-shaped part of the corona- showing off his well sculpt corona as well. Yes, take a good look, ordered Mrs Lanbourne, it won't bite you! There was much audience participation in this discussion of a glans with Jimmy required to show his plushy knob to each of them and let each of the girls touch its satin-like surface.

"Like a mushroom," came a whisper.

"Yes, it's nice and very well developed," said the lady when she overheard the comment, and led them in a discussion of circumcision (with Stevie's brown circle on his short, narrow stem highlighted to curious girls)...then the veins...yes, once again Jimmy had a lot to show off...then the perineum. After the last it was one short step to having each boy bend over...reach back and part his cheeks...and show off intergluteal clefts- in both cases, flaring with thick black wool, concealing what Mrs Lanbourne called their "anal cavities."

"Touching is a big part of learning," she told them. "But on hygienic grounds, not there."

All the girls looked flushed at the raw intimacy of this exposure.

With this pedagogical reflection Mrs Lanbourne steered girls to playing the "juggle-jiggle" game with their palms: an opportunity for each girl to first fondle the ball sacs of each boy, then when they had completely satisfied themselves (and each seemed very, very happy with the experiment, the boys less so) to deliver six gentle slaps to the underside of the scrotums, followed by one more decisive but not completely unkind slap which might make Stevie or Jimmy double over, or tap dance on the spot, eyes clenched and face contorted. And the sheer fun for the girls (some of whom had no brothers or male cousins even) had to be witnessed to be believed.

"Yes," instructed Mrs Lanbourne. "Slap gently...juggle the scrotum to see the testicles jiggle...see those testicles dance in the sac...now some more...slap...slap...slap...now a firm one! Slap!"

For Stevie it was a familiar game, leaving him dangling between ecstasy and sudden shoots of thrilling pain as each girl got her chance to bounce around his little globe in its tight black curls. He was in heaven, being naked and erect and trailing spider webs of pre-cum, girls all around staring and sniggering.

But he had not been prepared for the innovation: Mrs Lanbourne now presenting the girls with metal spatula, wooden spoon, wooden hairbrush and heavy pine school ruler to give the jiggle juggle greater poignancy and frisson.

Stevie gulped when, looking down, he caught a glimpse of short sighted Anita Chillbain, a girl from Fairmount, with mousy hair in plaits, her nose inches from his penis tip, staring intently. Anita was holding the spatula. Nothing like this happened in her own Benjamin Harrison High.

She felt driven by earthy biological urges.

The "juggle-jiggle" game commenced. Gentle slaps which were so...delicious to Stevie. Oh, the joy that suffused his body. Gentle slaps on his beanbag. And then the final slap with the hard, cold metal which made him dance on the spot, face contorted and tears smarting in each eye. Which every girl had been waiting for and thought so funny.

Jimmy's insides melted when he looked down to see the glint in the eyes of Lucy Jacobson, a girl from the school in Fergus Falls, a real Bobby Soxer, in high waisted plaid skirt, pink blouse and ankle socks and saddle shoes...

...while he, of course, was stark naked!

Her pert baby doll face, like Shirley Temple, was inches from the pink, swollen glans at the end of his prick...

...from where she breathed in his aroma of Pears Soap...

...and the fern-like odour of his pubic bush...

...as she shivered with prurient awe, having never seen a boy's organ...

...then produced the long wooden kitchen spoon...

...and used it to cup his voluminous scrotum.

Slap!

Slap!

Slap!

Slap!

Slap!

Then...SLAP!

"Owwwwwwwww!"

The bean-pole, hairy young man doubled over.

"Please, boys...don't...like...that!" he gasped.

The pert girl beamed up at him, indifferent to whether boys did or didn't like getting their balls slapped. Her panties were doused and her insides full of lubricious smoulderings.

She loved what she had just done: making the big boy with his deep, deep voice fold over and nearly cry with the pain in his silly, big hairy bag holding those two ridiculous balls.

Which was why she started all over again with that heavy pine ruler. She would make the long, lean basketballer tremble with pleasure and anticipation while the slaps with the ruler were gentle...oh, how he loved that playful interaction with his long hanging sac...but when the hard slap landed, he'd howl, groan and wince and double over and dance from one foot to the other.

All the girls found that soooooooo funny. All were imbued now with a bawdy spirit, hot blooded and debauched. No more nice little girls, their prissy restraints left behind with their dolls and pinafores.

Milly Slink watched from outside the circle. Her face was flushed with...well, lust- her lips slightly parted, her eyes on Jimmy's hammer-hard rod. Truth was, her panties were absolutely soaked. She stayed aloof from "juggle-jiggle." She could play that game anytime on Rodney's equally large (although now quiet hairless) scrotum, in their shaving sessions. She had today a more important role. When this was over Milly would take Jimmy, then Stevie, to the bathroom and use a Philips battery razor to shave every hair from their bodies, from neck to ankles.

Oh yes, every stray hair. Even if it took hours.

The rotary blade razor had belonged to Mr Harry Lanbourne, Mrs Lanbourne's husband, who had died five years back after a life spent drinking martinis, eating big steaks and sleeping on the sofa, of a massive, multi-arterial coronary occlusion.

But his electric razor had been carefully maintained as if a relic from a Pharaoh's tomb.

Milly picked up Mrs Lanbourne's Himalayan cat Hermes and stroked its ginger fur as it purred its satisfaction at the treatment of the two boys. Milly would take her time with the shaving, razoring every last crevice and sinew of the two hirsute young men, rendering them smooth as marble.

Not a hair in their armpits, in their groin, along thighs or calves...

...on asses...

...in clefts...

...or on scrotal sacs.

Bare as eggs, all over. Like the Greek warriors and athletes from Miss Simpkins' art histories. Smooth as marble statues.

Depilated and nude, humiliating for them to have a girl shear away their manhood. With other girls watching.

In this spirit Mrs Lanbourne curtailed the festive activities and suggested a very sore Jimmy, still bent over and tap dancing in slow motion in response to his testicular pain, hobble off with Milly to the bathroom. He did so, groaning, the girl following. She told Stevie, also bent over and clutching his petite scrotum, to sit at the piano and play some show tunes. Say, from Oklahoma. She told the girls they would enjoy seeing two hirsute boys once they had been painstakingly shorn, even enjoy peeps into the bathroom to watch it happening.

Milly told the tall, gaunt boy to lie in the empty bath, long feet resting on the far tiled wall- his face still scrunched in pain, his body twisting in agonising discomfort, muttering under his breath.

She knelt by the bath and flicked on the Philips battery razor.

"Arms behind your head, please. We'll start under the arms. Now this will prickle..."

Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrr went the Philips battery razor...

And Whirrrrrrrr, went the sewing machine of the town seamstress Mrs Carruthers as she started running up the first batch of embroided Indian-style belts, with her Negro maid Yuela in her white starched apron standing by her side.

And Whirrrrrrr went the thoughts in Yuela's head as she contemplated the succession of white boys buck naked when they came to the house to be fitted.

Whirrrrrrr went the speculation inside Mrs Nancy Claverback as she looked at photos of the boy next door, Kerry Fulbright, nude at the swim meet, and wondered if she might volunteer to his mother that she inspect her son- drawing on her time as a navy nurse- and his friends, like the athletes Rodney and Mark or those nice Negro boys.