The Ole Swimming Hole

Terror in his eyes, he stalled.

"Come on," insisted Melissa. "Or you'll be going home in that birthday suit."

He stumbled forward, to reveal the distinguishing marks of his gender

How interesting, thought Sally, he has the smallest of any of the boys. A neat little...acorn! How, how humiliating for the vain bully Alan Larsens. She felt her crotch suddenly get damper. With his clothes off, he's just a little boy! And I've got him where I want him!

He stood next to his comrades, head drooped.

Sally moved to the front, shaking with some unknown emotion as she set about piling on more shame. Yes, shaming him was her thrill.

She had a plan that excited her to the core.

She held up a leaf, a large leaf.

"I want to see him with this on...just like those statues in the park," she suggested to her leader.

"Like Adam in the Garden of Eden," cooed Tammy.

"Yes, get him to pose for us."

"Yes, Miss, let's see him in a fig leaf!"

"Well, can't see it would do any harm," she said, not shifting her gaze from the - yes, dainty - tube of flesh with its mauve-tinted knob and the little furry sack.

"Here," Sally said. " This will cover your...thing." Fits of giggles.

"Now clamp it on!" demanded Gloria.

"Yes, cover your shame!" demanded Laura with guffaws.

He took it and hesitated, looking dazed.

"Go ahead. Pose with it," came Sally's demand. "Or you won't be getting your clothes back."

Slowly, knowing how zany the gesture, he lowered the leaf with one hand to cover his prick. And stood like a statue.

"Oh, how cute!"

"A young Adam!"

A dozen girls were thrilled. Thrilled dirty. Not one of them would be going home with panties fit for any respectable wash basket.

Then the strangest thing. This silly game with the leaf brought him, too, a quick dirty thrill. A sudden sexual jolt. Within seconds his prick, asserting a life of its own, was springing to attention. Its four and a half inches strained out, lifting the bottom of the leaf to protrude its dainty but perfectly proportioned head.

"Oh no, Sally! " exclaimed Tammy. "It's pointing at you! Isn't that sweet! The nice little boy is in love with the girl in his street!"

While the girls broke up and Alan nearly swooned, something similar was happening with his buddies. Steve's prick had just reinflated as the thrill of being surrounded by dressed girls seeped into his libido. He could no more stand naked with fully dressed females and not get stiff than he could fly to the moon. Notwithstanding its recent milking it was once again straight up, almost flat against his belly.

Rising from his red pubic curls Rod's swan's neck had also come to life, lifting in an outward curve as if to bow to the girls in their brown uniforms . An elegant bend : his narrow shaft rose at a normal angle - as if becoming a standard 45 degree erection - but then curved to point not up but straight ahead. A swan's neck or, perhaps, a miniature elephant trunk, uncoiling as a signal to females in the herd. He couldn't will it down. He tried but it had a mind of its own.

Gerry's punchy cock had responded too, a 45 degree erection, also making a salute to his captives. It was a neat, regulation cock. A regular-guy next door, streamlined penis out of a biology textbook. Something any girl could bring home. He obeyed the earlier injunction to keep his hands at his sides. He was blushing furiously knowing this is going to figure in every report to his sister. She will know it all. She will know about its size and color and shape and its hair. She will know that caught nude by a party of local girls he couldn't stop himself getting a hard-on. She will know about the shame he suffered, about how red he turned, about how all the grils laughed at him. He has no secrets now.

The 12 senior girl scouts and their leader were goggling four shamed boys, in a state of nature, each sporting an erection. Each different enough to keep the females elbowing to get a closer look at this one, noting a feature here, a feature there, pointing and whispering.

For example, even erect, Rod's sack stays loose and you can see the gravitational pull of the two heavy rocks inside the bag, one mysteriously lower than the other. Steve's sack, by contrast, is scooped up by his massive shaft and vanishes into it.

Sally, fascinated by Alan, thinks how lucky the girl who sees him on his wedding night, who gets to inspect his compact physique and, his underpants down, receive this petite, white offering. Really delightfully small - surprising because with that Elvis hairdo and athlete's build you might expect more. The contrast between the good looks and the diminutive prick only makes the whole Alan Larsens' package more exciting.

Moist-eyed, red as beets, the males are rooted to the spot.

Melissa pondered her next move.

It was an old one but a good one.

First, the feigned indignation at the erections.

"These erections are not the involuntary kind. I was a nursing sister and I know. All of you have got excited because you are showing yourselves off naked to women.

"I'm giving you one command, plain and simple : loose those erections now!"

It was, of course, the one command they could not obey.

Steve despairingly looked down at his member which stared right back at him through the slit in the mushroom head. The phallic mouth seemed to be smiling. Rod threw his head back, closed his eyes and strained. To no effect. The swan neck stayed beautifully curved and inflated. Gerry stood still as a sentry, hands exaggeratedly stuck to his sides, while his stubby prick stuck up and out. Alan had dropped the leaf and his stubborn little stiffy pointed head first at...Sally Pullen who beamed with pride.

"I see where we stand," said a stern Melissa, a governess from central casting. "You leave me no alternative. Boys, you will all stand with hands behind your heads and prepare for a good, old-fashioned spanking...with a sandshoe!"

Excitement swept over the troop. The day kept getting better.

She picked the biggest sand shoe to hand, one of Steve's size 12s, and instantly brought it slap against Alan's small, tight left buttock. The blow lifted him skyward, made him gasp and made his little erection jiggle madly. What a stinging! She followed with strikes to his right buttock and then, working a circle, to his upper thighs just under the curve. And then five more circles, four blows each, making him groan through clenched teeth as he kept his hands locked behind his head and threw his midriff forward with each blast.

When Alan's erection wilted - Sally had thrilled at the sight of his penis jumping around - Melissa moved onto Rod. As her blows rained down on his bottom his long, arched erection pranced and pirouetted - dancing balletically . Eventually the swan's neck of a penis subsided, its outward curve pointed half-deflated at the ground. Rod's red-freckled bottom was now as scarlet as Alan's. And stung like nothing he had ever experienced.

Melissa was in her stride now, face flushed and eyes ablaze, and Gerry's very white hindquarters were subject to terrific force. When the blows hit the upper-thigh, just under the curve of his ass cheeks, he seemed to lurch forward with a stinging that spread into his whole nether region - almost threatening to fling himself into Alice Jone's arms, watching, as she was, from the closest position. As close as she was able to get. Plenty to tell his sister, especially about how his upright cock quivered and bounced with each stroke.

Three erections had now been defeated . Now Melissa hove into Steve's athletic globes. Round one, two, three and four were completed. His bottom was red. But his mammoth, heavily-veined outcrop did not wilt. She powered on, full force. His loins jerked forward with each blow, the massive prick vibrating. But it stayed rock-hard.

The girls were gawking at it. And his eyes were open. He seemed to want to see them looking at him.

Which, Melissa concluded, may have been the problem.

Another two rounds and she was flushed and exhausted. His bottom was bright red. But his prick was still rampant.

She didn't admit defeat. Just ignored it for now. "Girls, you might like to inspect these bottoms. Very sore bottoms. See first hand what happens to naughty boys." No second invitation was needed and soon a dozen uniformed girl guides were oohing and aahing while inspecting the colored cheeks and thighs of the four boys still immobilized with hands locked behind heads. The backsides were almost evenly red in a continuous tone, but a shade darker on the roundest parts. Steve's reddest of all.

The boys still had to keep their hands locked behind their heads - Melissa was stern on this point, but she had no objection to the girls reaching out to stroke and caress the punished skin. Some were lavish and lingering, some strokes turning into furtive tickles.

Which had the predictable effect. Three erections spring back to life as if by mechanical effect . And Steve's had never faltered. Melissa took in the sight - four naked males with rearing pricks - and feigned outrage.

To the delight of every girl, now galvanised by the biology lesson, Melissa moved to take Alan's bolt upright member. She couldn't believe how tiny it after Steve's. She could fit six this size, no 10, in her grasp when she couldn't even make her hand enclose Steve once. She declared, "It seems we are left with only one way of making these go down..." and she took Alan's right hand and placed it on his knob "...and that is by each boy giving us a nice big ejaculation. Which for you girls may be a very useful lesson anyway."

She gave Alan an encouraging thrust or two and supervised the process with the other boys . They started by holding their pricks shyly as if they had never before touched the strange objects. But soon she had them moving in the time-honored rhythm of pleasuring themselves, up and down, up and down... while their eyes now assumed a distant far away look, glassy and self absorbed. The girls stood in silent wonder ; the only sound was the watery one of skin against skin.

Up and down, up and down...until in one sudden discharge Alan Larsens sent a jet stream of gooey fluid through the air to splash...on Sally Pullen's skirt, and followed with two further blasts landing on the ground between them. Wow! There was a collective shock. "I told you he was in love with you!" whispered Gloria as Sally examined the white fluid lodged on her garment. Encouraged by this - or so it seemed - Rod's ropey tribute then sailed forth - they could see it in full flight - and smacked onto the blouse of ...yes, Emily Wainwright, who looked for a second as if she would fall backwards with shock.

"Come on, Gerry, show us what you've got," encouraged Alice as her friend's brother worked away on his stout, regulation dick. As if a cheerleader's encouragement was all he needed he immediately spurted, sending a shaft of white fluid straight up to splatter on his chin and hang off it, threatening to trail to the ground. He looked very funny and the girls gave him mock cheers and applause.

Which left Steve working away on his long, thick shaft with it's metro directory of veins, the statuesque head now a dark purple. All eyes were on him and he seemed to welcome them, turning his head with his chin jutted out, as if to say, come on, girlies, look at me. Look at me stark naked, playing with my big prick.

He was enjoying it. Perhaps - thought Melissa - he realises for the first time what he really likes. "Enough," she said and marched right up to him. She brushed his hand away and with hers took the head of his penis and gave it the round-the-tip massage that had worked before. "Watch carefully, girls, this is how it's done...the only way to banish an erection...which we need to do...because when they're under control we are going to march these boys back to town...buck-naked...taking their clothes with us in our backpacks...only returning them when when hit the meadow five minutes from town...teach these lads a lesson...the lesson of their lives...and they can't object because we'll report them to the police for public indecency..."

There were squeals of anticipation from the senior scouts.

Now her hand switched to stroking the whole length of his veiny prick even though she could not enclose its width. His eyes were popping. He was breathing heavily. And she continued talking while she looked him dead in the eye.

"... they are totally in our power, girls, ONE HUNDRED PERCENT . So we walk back through the woods...taking them with us...but they won't be wearing a stitch...they will be walking in line with us, in their birthday suits...stripped to the buff...naked as the day that they were born...while we'll all be in our uniforms..."

Steve was ga-ga - almost on the point of gibbering - as her words raged through his imagination. He could see a dozen girls marching him through the woods like a prisoner...a prisoner stripped naked by his captors...their eyes all over his naked body as he hiked. There they were now, in front of him in their neat uniforms, ravishing his nudity with their greedy eyes...

He felt it coming...

He felt the surge...

Steve exploded.

"OOOOHH...HAAARR..."

It was not the impressive arc of earlier behind the shrubs but a nice load all the same. It brought the oohs and aahs of a fireworks display. It was certainly enough to impress Laura who copped it on her leg. "Yuk!" she exclaimed. Cheers and applause from the the other 11 girls.

All of them with soaked panties, all ravishing the male flesh, all looking forward to the two hour hike home. Which Melissa was now organizing.

The track wound through the woods, sometimes along a creek. Occasionally it opened into a bosky glade or a camp site but mostly it was only wide enough to permit two walkers side by side. There were some steep patches up and over ridge lines and you knew you had done a walk by the time it opened in meadow and farm country just outside town.

There, Melissa decreed, and only there would the boys be allowed their clothes. In the meantime they could pull on their shoes and socks and join the queue at irregular intervals between the uniformed senior scouts.

The strange procession would be like Amazon warrior maidens returning to camp with stripped male captives.

So they set off along the narrow track between the over-arching trees.

Wearing socks and sand shoes and not another stitch only made the boys look more vulnerable.

Alice Jones fell in with Gerry Smilie. Oh my God, she thought, I...am...walking...through forest...with a naked...young man. By my side. My friend's brother. Without a stitch. And with a red ass from a spanking by my scout leader. Oh my God.

Slyly, with sidelong glances, she was able to watch his neat dick swing pendulum-like. Or, if she trailed slightly, catch his jiggling ass cheeks, lithe and white, toiling away - but with those vivid splotches from the recent punishment. Once when they climbed a steep rise, he in front, she saw right between those cheeks. Saw his peeping boy's asshole. The secret shameful hole itself! Hairless and pink. Then as a bonus had a thrilling rear view of his compact balls between his legs. And to make it even more exciting he didn't realize she was seeing it.

Alice had never had a boyfriend. Had never seen a nude male. Her parents had been strict. They had kept her at home. She began to think, what might I get in return if I didn't tell his sister? The thought played on her mind.

Further back red-headed Rod Kelly became aware of the heavy breathing of Emily Wainwright more or less at his side. He was relieved it was her and not one of the more forward girls. He sensed her eyes shyly darting over his body, gazing down his front when she was by his side - but furtively, out of the corner of her eyes - probably still curious about his funny equipment and red curls. Peeking at them. And when he pulled ahead he felt her eyes ravishing his ass. Felt certain of it.

Strange, he was beginning to like being nude. Even like the attention this girl was giving him.

It dawned on him all of a sudden. Gee, he thought, this is nice in a funny way. Hiking with nothing on. And with flat-chested Emily, wearing glasses and with that mousy hair, he didn't feel threatened. She didn't seem cruel like the others.

He breached the top of a rise and turned to put a hand out to help her. Oh hell, he realized too late he was placing his red brush, his long, uncut prick and dangling balls only inches from her face. As she completed the haul up she was face to face with his privates, close enough for him to feel her panting breath on his foreskin. His nudity in the presence of her uniform gave him shuddering embarrassment all over again. But it was a thrill he was beginning to savor in a weird way.

"Thanks," she squeaked.

"I'm sorry about..." Oh jeez, how do I complete this, he thought. "...about back there, when it hit you...you know..."

"Oh, that's okay. It washed off. Not even a stain."

And the two of them were blushing. But Rod began to feel sort of warm and mushy about being with this plain girl who could be so nice about being splashed with his flying sperm. Not mocking or teasing. In fact he was now feeling a lovely all-over kind-of pleasure at walking naked with her. Stark naked while she was fully dressed. Then, while they were talking, in a matter of fact way his long, skinny appendage stiffened, curving to point at his companion. Completely erect again.

She saw it. She couldn't not see it.

They resumed walking. She asked him whether that happened very often. He found himself explaining about boys' erections, about the constant fear of embarrassment with sisters and mothers. About always getting them on buses. About the problem of having to stand up in classrooms with a teacher and a whole class looking at the bulge in your fly. Oh, believe me, that is dreadful, he told her. She was sympathetic. She said it must be hard being a boy. And he was enjoying telling her these shameful things. These confessions seemed to go with being buck-naked in her company.

She asked him about the flying white stuff that comes out of his penis. And he explained about nocturnal emissions. About the embarrassment of coming home from school each day to see your pajama pants on the washing line. Fearing the neighbors might notice and your sisters certainly did. Let alone your Mom who had identified the shameful tell-tale stains.

He told her, taking a deep breath, that most boys "played with themselves" down there and made the stuff come out. They knew it was a bad habit but after a while the urge became so strong they couldn't resist it. You just couldn't make your penis go back down if you didn't do it. He had heard of one boy who on one Sunday did it eight times. Emily was so nice about it and so understanding, even with his penis pointing them down the track. And when two girls up ahead turned and giggled at the ridiculous sight Emily scolded them away.

Further back on the trail Alan Larsens found that Sally was either at his side or just behind him. He felt she was intent on opening conversation. She was certainly scoping his body with lubricious sideways peeps. Every time that happened it made him blush but he was enjoying the air and bursts of sunlight on his naked body and the feeling of his genitalia swinging . To the extent that equipment as modest as his could swing.

"I think I should send you a bill for dry cleaning after that mess you made of my skirt," she said.

He blushed so deeply he could feel the heat on his face. Deeper than he could ever remember in his life. He wanted to sink into the stony track.

" That's hard...for boys...to control..." His voice broke with the shameful recollection and trailed off.