Here before you is the latest episode, the story of Tommy finding his way in 1950s Minnesota. I pay tribute to my mentor and inspiration, the contributor to these pages known as Aaron Burr. Fans of his work will find references to his story Veronica Peeps.
Our characters, waiting in the wings, are 18 or over, dirty minded and sex obsessed and very eager to please you.
The lights dim. The threadbare curtain parts, scarlet and gold fringed. Our players enter, Tommy first.
*****
I became dedicated to silence, exile, cunning.
Like any spy.
Sometimes my intelligence hinted the girls may be cooking something up and my antennae twitched. If I thought that, with Mom out at bridge and Dad on a sales trip, Eric might be headed to our place I made signs of going out to the Y and left the house with a maximum of racket. Then I would circle the neighbourhood on my Schwimm three-gear racer and return to the back gate and steal silently from tree to tree unseen, tiptoeing to the woodshed to mount the sawhorse and look through the ventilation block and peer down at them.
I would catch Eric at the moment when, having handed his clothes over to the girls, he hesitated at peeling off his jockstrap. It was Biker brand with three inch waist band and a mesh pouch always swollen with his big confined erection. He would act as if reluctant to slide them off: "Awww! But I'm real shy! I'll be buck naked! Hell no, Willa, I'll be real embarrassed." There would be coaxing and teasing: "C'on, be a good boy...slide 'em down...just pretend we're nurses," and then, inch by inch, he would slither out of this thrilling, exotic piece of clothing (the girls loved his jockstraps and, knowing this, he always wore them.)
There were many discerning comments from the girls at each stage in the slow descent: the timberline...the full bush...the base of his prick ("My oh my, what's that coming into view?")...the stretched, flattened stem ("Gosh! That's wide!")...its blue vein down the middle...then his wide-stemmed, narrow-headed cock would bounce up and out, free, pounding and erect- to much giggling and pointing and gasping.
"Oh my god!"
"What...is...THAT?"
"So...THICK!"
"Do they always poke out like that?"
"Look at his little hat on the end! So...cute!"
He would have to stand there, nude except for his plastic-framed glasses, while they inspected and talked about his nakedness, even probed and prodded, as long as they liked.
These days Willa, my freckle-faced, plaited sister, invited a girl from school to each spanking session. Willa revelled in her power: she ran the sessions, picked which girls participated and she got to paddle and slash away at an athletic boy's naked rear. Denied the chance to strip and punish her brother she could indulge herself with her brother's friend and workout buddy.
Eric was shaken at being exposed like this. "Awww! Gee, Willa! Not with Sally...no, please..." Or Veronica or Wendy or Casey. And a very plain girl with Coke bottle glasses called Olivia Pucker gave him real challenges for some reason. Eric was clearly the only boy she had ever been with close-up and she came to each session now, very excited, even drooling a little. I later saw her pay $4 to Willa after one spanking where she had been given the task of jerking Eric off- he had protested and struggled to prevent this humiliation but, her eyes swimming behind the thick lenses and a hand thick with cold cream, she had closed in determinedly. Her trembling hand reached for his joystick, she took hold, a few strokes...and whoosh! She was flushed with triumph, looking down at the pooled semen.
Yet he was tremendously excited by the exposure, trembling with some nameless emotion as he stripped his clothes off knowing that Olivia and whatever other girl had been recruited- Sally or Irene or Sally, girls he sat with in class or church- were waiting to see his secrets. Even after the most severe punishment- and they were fiercer each time, especially when Olivier wielded the switch- he would quickly become erect again as the girls "Ohhhed" and "Ahhhed" over his redness and welts, applied cold cream and closed-in on his genitals to exclaim over the small head or wide stem. All this made it spring to life, no matter how hurtful his recent treatment. "Oh, look, it's standing up again," a girl might trill, as they stared at his groin.
I assumed he was enormously stimulated when he produced ropes of his semen, especially for girls seeing it for the first time, splashing on his forehead or pooling in the gully between his pecs. It was a demonstration of his manhood right under their eyes.
With each experience, and they were at it sometimes three times a week, it seemed the paddling and switching on his ass and thighs got harsher and he got hardier. He tolerated more, seemed to expect more. The welts were correspondingly more pronounced, the globes more violet. Their cooing over the handiwork more excited.
The compensatory tickling and stroking and caressing become more heartfelt.
And this treatment now climaxed, as I've foreshadowed, with Willa, my eldest sister, or Karina, my senior cousin, or one of the privileged visitors, taking a glob of cold cream, slathering it over his erection and with workmanlike strokes bringing Eric to a ropey orgasm. As his hair and face, his chest and tummy, were being splashed with hot sperm, to gasps and applause from the girls, I from my eyrie would ejaculate too, my cum trailing down the wall of the woodshed.
The same would happen if I watched the scene in Eric's bedroom- me standing on the trash can in the shadows thrown by a grove of 12 elm trees- with my workout buddy being ordered out of his freshly-laundered pyjamas, bottoms first with his erection being exposed; then the top removed button by button- often by Olivia or the other recruit. I loved it when he was revealed naked except for his plastic-framed glasses and when the girls engaged in a prolonged inspection of his nude body. "See," Willa might say to a girl doing this for the first time. "That's his penis- what they call their cock. Or prick!" And the new girl would stare hard. Often a new recruit would be very interested in inspecting his balls and look on them with sincere wonder. Then he was ordered to his bed and his bottom was raised and tilted by a pillow...then the wallops and slashes, his Owwwws! and Awwwwws! and his wriggling and twisting until he had to be held down and sat upon. Then, the tickling and caressing and stroking- on every inch of his skin it seemed- followed by a sweet, quick masturbation with cold cream.
Whoosh!
Splop!
Ropes of it shooting out.
In woodshed or bedroom this tickling episode always featured games with Eric's nipples- flicking, squeezing, pinching- the boy's eyes getting glazed and distant as two girls worked at his fleshy pleasure buttons and the other four mocked: "Oh, look at the big girl! He likes us touching his precious titties!" He protested when Willa told Olivia to pinch his nipples- this mysteriously intimate contact- but the boy could not resist after her eager fingers started working. One touch, one pinch, and a girl would exclaim, "Look, they're standing up!" and he was off in never-never land. "Gurgling with pleasure" probably describes his response when girls fingered his medallions, teasing and stretching and pinching.
Then came the thrilling new development: another boy being brought into the game, being humiliated in precisely the same way, but after they had dealt with Eric first.
On a starry night I was standing on the trashcan in the shadows, with a perfect view of Eric's room. It was high summer so the windows were wide open. Their voices carried outside. All around, in the moist warm air, there was a scent of blooming flowers and freshly mowed grass. Crickets hummed in the shadows.
My new practice was to strip completely, to fold each item of my clothing and leave it on the ground, then, stark naked and my cock as hard as timber, mount the trash can. I was secure in the deep shadows thrown by the 12 elms. I could see them but they couldn't see me.
I would fondle myself as I watched the show unfold. I would stroke my own nudity as Eric's was revealed. I would flick and stretch my own petite nipples as girls squeezed his. I would feel my erection as a girl massaged his. I would time my ejaculation to match Eric's. Whoosh! Out flew my ropes of cum, illuminated in the moonlight, while his ropes splashed on his forehead or chest, or drained to his tummy.
Our three cousin had gone to their home town for the holidays and Willa had recruited friends to take their place: Sally Pullen, Deborah Wickwire and that regular standby, the plain, mousy-haired Olivia Pucker. Their appearance had caused great distress to Eric. He had protested at being instructed to stand in front of them and get untrousered by Sally, a girl he sat near at church. Nonetheless, encouraged by Willa, Sally, a sassy brunette in flowering blouse and tartan skirt, advanced breathing deeply. Her eyes ablaze she tugged gently at the cord of his pyjamas, watched them fall apart and helped them down his hips. His penis had sprung out- she beamed when she caught a glimpse of it- and he had pulled the hem of his pyjama top to shield it.
But Willa had moved in and quickly worked at his buttons with her practiced hand and the other sisters had approached from behind and whisked his pyjama top down his arms and right off. Suddenly he was standing in his birthday suit, with breastplate chest and washboard abs and rampant small-headed but broad-beamed erection, and the girls' stares were all over him. He couldn't look them in the eye, these girls who sat with him in class at William Henry Harrison High or on the pews of the Camphor United Methodist Church.
They feasted themselves, thrilled at seeing a boy they knew completely stripped.
And then he had to be punished, first, standing bent over showing off his ass and the contents of his crack. Sally and Deborah and Olivia took unfeigned delight in checking it out and Karina gave them a guided tour of its characteristics ("There, see? His little hole. Pink. See the wrinkles around it? And that raised edge? That's called his raphe...the whole area his perineum...") His humiliation at this must have been devastating. Then they had him lying down on his bed. To be paddled and slashed on what Willa insisted on calling his "naughty little bottom."
Their eyes were on fire during the paddling and the switching.
When it finished Eric lay on the bed, quietly moaning and hands back massaging his glutes. But cruel as his punishment had been it had been followed by a particularly warm-hearted session of tickling and stroking. At first he had protested at visiting girls Sally and Deborah being ordered to work on his nipples- he didn't like girls he knew from school and church being afforded such familiarity- but once they started he sunk into his hypnotic state. "Look, he loves it," Willa told them. "You can pinch hard, and he likes it more." I saw Sally squeeze harder, squeeze and stretch. Yes, he was enjoying it. He emitted a low, cat-like murmur. My sisters knelt, tickling his ribs and thighs.
His explosion, too, had been special. Sally had slathered cold cream on his erection; again he had protested at the visitor taking the place of Willa but Sally had no plans to retreat to second place. A boy who sat with her at church each Sunday- sat on the pew a few people away, sharing the smell of cold stone and cheap flowers and the sound of "Onward Christian Soldiers"- was now lying naked before her, his cock in her palm, and she was going to exact every last pleasure from this experiment.
Now after his explosion Sally was clinging to his softening penis- softening but still long- squeezing it like a toothpaste tube, watching fascinated as the last droplets emerged and joined the pool on his tummy.
There was a sudden ring of the doorbell. It echoed through the house. Eric started with fear but Willa said, "Relax, big boy. We've got more visitors. A friend of ours who wants help punishing her boyfriend."
She turned to her sisters and the three visitors.
"Yes, girls, we've got another young athlete. Another boy to strip and paddle."
The girls were thrilled by this surprise.
The boy and the girl were bustled in.
The girl was Veronica, a plain young woman with a homely appearance, wide hips and a figure already running to excess weight. She was a loner but very intellectual; she had a reputation for being brilliant at art, recently transferred to our school from Brewer. Someone had whispered that she used to hang around the wooded edge of the local lake where boys had swum and exercised nude, in fact exercised under Coach Compton who had taught PE in Brewer for a few terms. According to the story she had hidden in the shrubs and goggled at boys with binoculars, had done it all summer until one boy had found her and he had become her boyfriend. I only half heard the story and only half believed it.
Here she was anyway with her boyfriend, Timmy, a school letterman and class president with cute snub nose who was blushing and shaking with nerves. He was handsome with auburn hair oiled and brushed back in a ducks tail style. His long eyelashes were fluttering- especially when he took in the room full of girls and the naked boy lying on his bed. He knew all of them from school and church. He gulped with embarrassment, looked at his girlfriend and muttered, "Holy cow, Veronica, ya mean...you gonna make me strip...in front of...them all?"
Veronica, who held his hand, was plainly in charge. She stared quizzically at naked Eric, lying on the bed, who quickly placed his hands over his groin. She seemed to dilate on the pools of caking semen all over his torso. Then she addressed her remarks to Timmy.
"Well, yes, naughty fella. It is just what you deserve and..."
