Eric and I sat naked on the bleachers at the YMCA pool, St Paul. It was nine on a Monday night, the facilities near deserted. My weights room buddy had kept me back later than usual, after our swim and workout, with his ceaseless talk of body building, body builders, new routines, favorite muscle groups. After two hours of exercise I was happy to linger in his company.
In the last few months both our physiques had pumped up. He was on his way to being the tall, broad shouldered Greek god, his athletic upper body tapering to a pinched waist and concave tummy. His glasses, framed in transparent plastic, made him look like Clark Kent. I was compact, like my Dad, but now after months of weights and swimming and weight trainer's food, every muscle was straining to be noticed. I had the makings of a V-shaped torso, horseshoe triceps, washboard abs.
He sprawled back against the railing, one hand flicking his large nipples in a lazy gesture and then both hands travelling between abs and groin as he explained how he was set on defining his "Adonis belt." It was the muscle that curved in hip hollows, running into the groin. Defining the edge of the abs. Also known, Eric explained, as "Devil's horns."
"See here...running up like this...Devil's horns..."
He gestured up the edge of his abs. But he only drew my gaze to his lolling prick. It was very broad but narrowed to a very small glans: he had a penis head appropriate for a boy, yet a stem broad enough for a Viking warrior. He was circumcised like me. The brown band or ring around his upper stem was very dark.
"Look at your abs! They're a real achievement, buddy..."
I placed my towel over my groin. Any time Eric praised my physique I punched out an immediate erection.
There was a splash at the end of the pool. Someone began to swim powerful laps.
"Ah, your Dad!"
Dad had dinner at home and then headed out for exercise or steam, either here or at St Paul's Athletic Club. Our workout programs rarely overlapped.
"Hey, he was brown all over, your Pa. I just noticed. A perfect tan. A nudist. You can tell. Brown all the way here..."
He smoothed his hand over his groin, as if inviting me once again to admire his fat, lounging prick with its funny diminutive cap.
"...and his ass was all brown. Tanned. Your Dad must get around nude outdoors. That's how I'd like to be. Out at the lake..."
And he was off telling me about his camping trips, the ones he kept inviting me to join, when at daybreak you could step out of the tent and walk to the water's edge. He implied, in the nude. With no one else around. Even- was he suggesting?- go nude in the woods all day? He stroked his chest, flicked his nipples as he hinted at possibilities. From the wide aureole the nipple jutted, conical and erect, bigger than I'd seen on any other male.
I thought of Dad and his overall tan as he, without seeing us, ploughed the chlorine-scented water on his second lap. I wanted to sunbathe in his company. Father and son, sunning themselves in the nude.
"So..."
Eric was asking me something.
"...where does your dad get around nude? To get that real cool tan?"
"Dunno..."
I reflected.
"I heard the roof of the Athletic Club has sunbathing. Men only. His pal, Coach Compton, has a backyard pool..."
"Can we get him to take us. I think all that would be real cool. Weight trainers should have golden skin..."
And he was off again, stroking his groin and flicking his nipples unconsciously as he talked.
I told him I had to get away. I'd bike home. Eric said he might take another swim and talk to my Dad. I watched the deep cleft of his ass stride off to the pool's edge.
The shower was empty but there must have been 10 towels hanging outside the steam room although no conversation from inside.
I headed home for some under-the-blankets fun with Grecian Guild and Physique Pictorial.
These days Dad was busy, away a lot. Mom seemed to be drinking more. The female cousins and my sisters were frisky, ready to goad me about what they had seen during those paddlings.
"Oh, that erection! That erection of yours! When we were watching Leave it to Beaver. Say, Tommy...you got one now?"
Guffaws!
This was over the breakfast table with Mom out of earshot.
"Yes, Tommy, is it sticking out and up? Stand up, let us see if there's a bulge in those jeans?"
"Now let's see, girls? How many of his classmates did we tell about that little episode?"
"Oh, all of them I think, Karina. All of them. And...they loved it! How does that make you feel, Tommy? Told lots and lots of girls about your bottom, your cock with its pink hat and those long, dangling balls of yours."
"They just couldn't believe that we saw your bottom paddled close up...saw your cock on display when you stood on the chair..."
"That was our best trick!" boasted Willa. "You looked so funny up on that chair pulling your shirt to stop us seeing..."
"...then we saw you marched naked around the house...and standing there in the living room!"
"With your balls hanging down! With your little erection! Your pathetic erection because you couldn't keep your cock down."
Guffaws.
I fled the room.
They were just as frisky when on Saturday afternoon Eric came round to do body weight exercises in our big backyard. We positioned ourselves on the weed infested lawn, beyond the old woodshed and started doing rounds of jumping jacks, push-ups, sit-ups and medicine ball catches.
Eric's athletic good looks soon had them circling, pretending to idle on the swing that hung from the branches of the old oak or dawdle around the flower beds gossiping. Their eyes were on him.
He felt their interest.
"Shit, it's hot!" he exclaimed.
Which was a pretext to peel off his T shirt and show off his washboard abs...and, yes- they were carving themselves- his Iliac groove or Adonis belt. Yes, his Devil's horns, on either side of his lower abs vanishing into his waistband running into his groin.
His musculature was near-perfect.
The girls were all staring.
Even when he concentrated on our routine, he knew they were looking him over. He showed it when he discretely edged the band of his shorts lower. And later, just before another burst of boxing, lower still. Until there was the tiniest whorl of pubic hair- a piece of his timberline- on display. He showed his exhibitionism, too, by lasciviously running a palm over his pecs, lingering around his nipples, as if he wasn't thinking about it. This was while we rested between sets of exercises; the girls' eyes were all over him. He had consciously or not aroused the nipples so that the conical shapes stood up.
I kept my shirt on.
When we finished I told him I was off to take a shower. I was expecting him to immediately take off and bike home. But the girls closed in and had him surrounded, engaged in frivolous, flirty conversation. He stroked his torso- thoughtlessly, lovingly- while he smiled and parried. As I looked back from the steps I even saw a discrete movement of his hands force his shorts fractionally lower, putting on display for their captivated gaze, some more of his Adonis belt, another whorl of glistening pubic bush, a pair of hips without a trace of fat.
If he made that adjustment once more, I thought, he'd be showing them the top of the cleft in his ass, the entire patch of pubic hair, even the base of his prick.
The girls were entranced. By the bare torso, the breezy charm, the Saturday Evening Post, all-American boy, Clark Kent good-looks.
As I entered the back door I heard Karina exclaim, "Hey, Eric, why don't you drop those shorts altogether! They couldn't be lower!"
A comment that would have frozen me to the core simply resulted in peals of laughter in which his hearty baritone mingled with their prurient, giddy, excited giggles.
With a capacity to push troubling things from my mind I took a leisurely shower with a quick, soapy jerk off stimulated by the close-ups of Eric's pinched waistline and fleshy nipples.
So they had had plenty of time to get better acquainted.
I dried and dressed.
A glimpse through the kitchen window stunned me.
They were huddled close. Eric was gap-mouthed with wonderment. Willa was animated and gesturing, telling him some story that riveted the boy. The other girls were on fire, transfixed. Then a cousin moved closer to Eric and...slapped his bottom hard! Her movement revealed the centre of their conversation: our family paddle! In Karina's right hand, being held like a tomahawk, clearly what had been getting them all fired up!
They had been telling him about paddling.
In fact the breeze carried the words "Grandmom" and "Dad," and the phrases "totally nude," "stripped to the buff," " lying on the bed face down."
Hell! Seduced by his presence, they were giving him the full low down!
I could see, even from this distance, a broad erection tenting his white gym shorts. They could not miss it.
"TOMMY! TOMMY TOO?"
Eric's words were shouted and they carried across the yard.
They hushed him to be quiet.
They leant in to whisper.
No doubt a full account of my stripping and humiliation and paddling.
I heard some more exclamations from him.
"HELL!
"...NUDE?
"...TOTALLY?"
And then watched them whispering the shameful details.
"ERECT! YOU SAW HIM STIFF!"
They hushed him again, leant in close to whisper more details. Their expressions were lubricious.
And they kept swiping glances at his tented shorts. He did not seem to be embarrassed, even when one cousin pointed and sniggered. I could read her lips mouthing, "erection." In fact he guffawed and looked down himself, making a teasing gesture of pretending he was going to take the shorts down altogether which excited them more.
And then they seemed to be canvassing a course of action, talking anxiously. Karina waved the paddle and made spanking gestures with it, directed at his bottom. More laughter, him mouthing Ouch and Ohhh! He leapt around, acting out the role of naughty boy being spanked. Their faces were on fire. They made excited glances to the woodshed. Also some nervous over-the-shoulder glances back to the house although I ducked in time to avoid being seen staring behind the fly screens. When I popped up again they were gone from the yard. It was empty. There was only Willa looking back as she carefully closed the woodshed door.
I waited, heart beating.
The main woodshed window was big. They would see me peeping. But from days of childhood games I knew about a ventilation block from which you could see everything inside if you stood on an old, splintering sawhorse that was abandoned in that corner of the yard.
I slipped out the kitchen door, collected the sawhorse and mounted it to peer in.
Holy Jesus!
Eric had already abandoned his shorts.
He was standing before them in a jockstrap, a favorite of his on his workout days: a J and J Swimmer with blue tracer line around a three inch waist band.
The bulge in the meshing of the jockstrap cup looked ferocious. It was clear it contained a big, erect penis. One ready to spring forward and up the second it was released.
There was a broad bench in the middle of the shed.
"Yep...on there."
Willa was giving directions.
Eric was complying, submissively.
He picked up his discarded gym shorts and folded them three times and lay them on the middle of the bench.
"For some comfort," he joked. "Because I figure there ain't gonna be much in a minute."
