Rodney's Nude Humiliation

All the characters in this story are, of course, 18 years or over.

*****

It was the summer of 1956 and the sun shone on the United States. It shone on the mid-West. On Minnesota. On the town of Brewer, set among pasture and lakes, with its silos, railroad tracks, dairies and car yards, its treelined streets and spacious old two story homes.

It shone on its soda fountains and diners, its movie houses and its two high schools, its YMCA, its milk-fed teenagers so many of them attired and coiffed like their heroes and heroines, Doris Day, Elvis Presley, James Dean and Audrey Hepburn.

But right now one of them, Ricky Fafner, 19, was totally nude.

He was not happy being nude because soon there would be ladies and girls around and they would see him.

He was a skinny, average height fella, with a springy, six inch cock that got heavier towards its mauve-tinted head. The nick name, "bellend," seemed very appropriate. Springy- more often than not defying gravity and raising itself. His ballbag was lost in wiry hair. His stones were small: when measured by Dr Speight during school medicals, compared with the different sized ellipsoids she juggled in her free hand, he had come out only a humiliating one on the Tanner Scale. She had looked disappointed. He had shrunk.

He had never been outdoors nude before; indeed his body was fish-belly white. Which made him look more blatantly buck naked, look, in fact, the ultimate embarrassed naked boy. Yet here he was on the driveway, next to Mrs Reilly's 1950 Pontiac Chieftain only a foot or two from the front steps of her graceful, towered two story home, a masterpiece- some said- of early twentieth century, mid-Western domestic architecture.

At about a quarter to three in the afternoon on a summer Tuesday.

As ladies were about to arrive for one of Mrs Reilly's famous afternoon teas.

Ricky was entirely nude.

In his birthday suit.

Stark naked.

Police Commissioner Malone had made the decision in a flash when Ricky had been hauled in to the Third Avenue Police Headquarters. He had been apprehended in the notorious lovers lane "playing back seat bingo" with the daughter of Brewer's Mayor. Both had been in their underwear. The arresting officer said that Ricky's penis had been erect and exposed through the flies of his boxers, the girl's panties had been dripping wet. The furious commissioner had said, "It will be a work detail at Mrs Reilly's or I report to your parents. And her's. Mayor Zeldin will see that you never work in this town."

When he had arrived half an hour ago Betty, one of Miss Reilly's Negro maids, took him to the garage and told him to take all his clothes off and leave them neatly piled. She had then taken a step back to watch. He had undressed slowly, lingering in loose boxers and only slithered shyly out of them when she had insisted. He had stood, shivering with embarrassment, hands over groin while she looked him up and down before escorting him to the front of the house to wait for another boy to arrive with the car wash equipment.

While Ricky waited the ladies of Brewer had begun to arrive. They were dressed in Christian Dior and Coco Chanel, in pencil skirts and big flowering skirts, cinched waists and pronounced bust lines, floral prints and stripes and polka dots, three quarter length sleeves and gloves, most with hats.

He twisted, and shuffled, and turned and sheltered, and moved around the parked car, and tried to avoid the gazes as they strolled up to the steps, singly for the most part but some of them in pairs, all the while his hands pressed to his midriff. And friends of his family said hello and said it was nice to see him and that they wondered what he had been up to be on gardening duty with Miss Reilly. And Mrs Qwen Skite, 40-something, wearing a boxy suit and blouse with a pussy cat bow, said goodness, wouldn't the girls from Harper Street (where Ricky's family lived) love to be here now to see him like this!

"She's got you bare as a board! Bare...as...a...board!"

She moved in close to get a better view.

"And you've got a hairy chest! Goodness, our little Ricky's developing!"

Ricky knew he had a few single hairs around each nipple. He felt pathetic.

He shrivelled and bunched up, hovering in the shadow of the car. He went all shivery, panicky and strange inside. Golly gosh! Women were seeing him buck naked, without a stitch!

Then Mrs Ricketson and her son Rodney arrived, hand in hand. Rodney was blushing deeply, at being hand-held by his mother; she had never done this before. Mrs Ricketson stopped and had a good stare at Ricky. He doubled over and pressed in his arms and hands to shield his privates. Truth was, with all that female attention, and the wafts of perfume, he had begun to get a boner. He felt Mrs Ricketson's eyes roaming to get a glimpse of what he was shielding. God, was he embarrassed!

Then, around the corner of the house, came another 19 year old, Teddy Fasolt, once a champion of the track, with his blond crew cut and freckled nose. Poor guy, his arms were grasping a mass of brushes, cleaning cloths, detergents, cloths. He was struggling. He nearly bumped into Mrs Ricketson. But burdened with the cleaning gear he couldn't cover up.

His bouncy prick already thrust out almost parallel to the ground. It was tipped with a funny glans, conical and flattened and wide, like a Chinese coolie's hat. This glans was planted on a thickish, upward curving stem: this curve and the wide bell-end made it a cartoon penis, drawn for an office joke by an animator in the MGM or Disney studios. With a diminutive swinging ballbag lightly coated with blond fur thrown in for good measure.

And he couldn't shelter because his arms were full.

Even though his cock was sticking out.

He just stood, his genitals on display, frozen.

Frozen, except for his penis which jerked, the silly shaped head determined to assert itself. Jerked up, as if to acknowledge Mrs Ricketson with a tribute or greeting.

"Why, Teddy, you're showing us all your virtues," chirped Mrs Ricketson, excited by how the day was starting.

His penis jerked some more. He couldn't help it.

"Why, look Rodney, he's got your problem. Teddy's penis won't stay down! It's stretching and climbing and sticking right out! How embarrassing- just like it is for you when we punish you in the nude, as we've been doing lately. Or when we see you model your Indian costume. But that's why us mothers are getting together. To see how we can control you fellas and your runaway instincts."

Rodney blushed and watched dismayed. Was this shortly to be his fate, stripped to the buff, being stared at by strange ladies, and girls he knew?

"And this other boy, here? Crouching? That's no way to greet a lady, sonny. What's your name?"

"Ricky...Ricky Fasolt, M'am."

"Well, Ricky, I know your Mom. Mrs Fasolt, from our library group. She gave the talk this week, on Raintree County. Well, Ricky, you drop your hands by your sides and stand up straight, and tell me why you are being punished here at Mrs Reilly's."

Mrs Ricketson was balanced on the towering heels of a sky blue pair of shoes. She wore a stylish cucumber-green suit, with cinched waist, and a small fawn hat with white polka dots. Her shapely calves shone with the sheen of her seamed nylons. Her fragrant perfume, Soir de Paris by Bourjois, drifted to the nude presence of Ricky and Teddy...

...both now shuffling in front of her, Ricky displaying a springy 45 degree projection and Teddy, having deposited the cleaning equipment, showing off his curved stem and wide, flattened glans.

Both had charming pricks, thought Mrs Ricketson, and Teddy's was hilarious, although both shorter than her son's.

And breezily, as if nudity were the natural condition of 18 year old fellas facing a mature age women in her finery, she asked about their offences and how many afternoons they would be required to work for Mrs Reilly and whether they were terribly embarrassed about it and whether they thought their behaviour would improve and how they enjoyed having finished school.

And she asked Ricky about his job in Mr Hyman's Dry Cleaners and Teddy about his job serving the counter at Freeman's Hardware and gave every sign of stretching things out, perhaps- Rodney, was beginning to think- so other ladies could get to inspect the full body nakedness of these two young men.

Due to the wafting Soir de Paris, the appraising glances of Mrs Ricketson, their rising panic or the mere fact of being nude outdoors the two boys were firmly erect throughout this encounter. They shuffled, stammered, blushed- aware their rubbery cocks were jutting, hard- but when their hands drifted to their groins to cover up the lady pointed and shook her head. Their hands withdrew to their sides. Their cocks stayed on display, even with the sound of other visitors coming up the driveway. No, thought Rodney, this does not bode well for this afternoon.

From her tower room, through parted curtains, Mrs Reilly looked down. It was precisely the exquisite male humiliation that was her greatest pursuit in life: God, she thought, the two boys totally in the buff, being humiliated by the stares of a fully-dressed lady. And with- she just noticed- another one, Mrs Lynton, hand-in-hand with her son Stevie, about to arrive and behind her, Mrs Campbell, hand-in-hand (oh, didn't he hate it! ) with her tall, athletic son Mark about to arrive as well. And beyond them she saw Mrs Fulbright with her son Kerry, hand in hand, a boy rumoured to be fitted out with a most unusual prick. Those school boys were dressed but, like the naked male victims they were coming face-to-face with, about to be stripped of every inch of clothing. Slowly stripped. And in front of her entire afternoon tea party.

Mrs Reilly was stark naked herself, apart from a pearl necklace and long-heeled Roger Vivier black shoes. She was standing in the embrasure, peering through parted blinds after her bath, her drying off, a dusting with talcum. She was tall and willowy, only a small layer of fat on tummy and hips, which accentuated her hour glass figure. Her breasts were up-tilting, conical. On the tips she sported rubbery pink nipples, right now stoutly erect. A riotous black pubic bush contrasted her lily-whiteness.

She lowered the antique La Mier Parisian opera glasses, in burnished brass and in perfect optical order, a present of her second husband, a French planter in the New Hebrides. She inhaled her Camel, planted in her ivory cigarette holder. Yes, that boy Teddy did have the most comic prick, a zany cock worthy of Harpo Marx, with a collie hat of a glans and a sweet banana bend. Nicely, it had jerked to a full erection. How fitting to have had the blond crew cut criminal caught helpless, with his arms full, just as mothers were arriving. His funny prick had been pointing the way, like a pathfinder.

And the other boy, Ricky, under instruction no doubt from Mrs Ricketson, had just dropped his hands to his sides and stood hanging his head with shame. His groin sprouted a modest stiffie, standing up at a regulation 45 degrees. It, too, had a nicely sculpted and enlarged head, distinctly mauve. Being surprised by ladies had made it spring up. She must congratulate Betty, her Alabama-born maid on such timing.

She drew on her cigarette holder. Then she reached for her heavily-watered J and B Rare Blended Scotch Whisky and took a sip.

She reached down and collected a gout of her secretions, flowing richly, and smoothed it over her perky clitoris. Perky: it was like a miniature penis. Even with a bulbous end. She had heard gamey gossip that the Duchess of Windsor, a divorcee adventuress she greatly admired, flourished such a clitoris and that it had greatly helped her capture the heart of the then-King of England.

Pleasuring herself she moved to the second bay window and parted the curtains and looked down on the rear of her lavish garden. Ah, what a delight! Three quite naked young fellas who had been working her hedges had just been bailed up by four girls from Grover Cleveland High, sassy 18 year olds who Mrs Reilly had insisted visit and inspect her plants. The girls knew the drill: every afternoon there would be local boys just graduated from school working off offences in her grounds. As naked as Adam. The girls had accepted her invitation with alacrity. Oh, yes, their green eyes had lit up.

The girls were dressed in tight blouses and low, wide skirts nipped at the waist. Their immaculate hairstyles and baby doll lipstick showed the influence of Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe. The naked boys stood forlorn, with their clippers and shears. Without a stitch.

One girl- their natural leader, a Doris Day look-alike- was insisting with a waving finger, no, no, no, don't shield yourselves. No, no, no! And the boys despondently let their arms fall to their sides. They were totally on display. Then the girls leant in close, pointing, giggling. They seemed to discuss the shapes in the male groins. Their leader, the cutie-pie girl with the blond bangs and richly-applied lipstick, now said something. It seemed directed at the tall, skinny boy. He was ugly with a long, broken nose, recessive chin and a heavy, greasy Elvis hairdo that seemed too big for his slender physique. She repeated her order, this Doris Day girl, and in response the skinny boy was shyly lifting his small penis to show off drooping testicles. Heavily drooping, long and low-hanging, out of proportion with his small prick. He seemed acutely shamed about showing them off.

This led to demands on the other two boys who with similar shyness showed off their balls, lifting their cocks, provoking comparisons and pointing and questioning back and forward between emphatic females and trembling, blushing boys.

Then the Doris Day girl appeared to give a short fella with the duckstail hairdo an instruction...and he awkwardly reached for his petite cylinder of a penis and delicately pulled back the foreskin, revealing a moist helmet. He was embarrassed, acutely. The girl pointed at his penis and said something. Her companions, in their wide skirts, leant close. And the boy shyly started feeling himself. Soon he produced an erection, his cock standing straight as a soldier on sentry duty. Girls moved closer, their mouths shaping oohhs and aahhs. The boy appeared to shrivel with shame.

Doris Day pointed and Mrs Reilly read her lips: "...a hardon...an erection!"

Oh how sweet, thought Mrs Reilly. Already thinking of the biological imperative, this girl is checking boys and their capacity to perform, determined to compare their sexual equipment, aware in the back of her mind she will one day have to be impregnated by specimens like these.

The sexually-precocious 18 year old girl was apparently making identical demands on his buddies because the other two shamed boys started feeling themselves. Presto! It happened so fast! They each had a prick- how Mrs Reilly liked the word, a product of Chaucer's time- standing out and up. The tall, skinny boy- heavy greasy hairdo, long broken nose, retreating chin- featured his surprisingly small member, although his ballsack still drooped surprisingly low. One of the shorter boys with hair brushed forward in a fringe had a penis as thick as one of her kitchen rolling pins, reaching his navel, too indecently big for his modest physique. The three of them- she noted as a connoisseur- sky-pointers. Right up- not parallel to the ground.

Standing back to savour the view, the bossy girl was now making a new demand. The three boys blushed, looked at one another, hung heads, and reluctantly placed hands on their erections and, looking around nervously, began stroking themselves. They looked as if they were doing it for the first time, tentative and shy, glancing over their shoulders with desperate, darting eyes.

Mrs Reilly was vigorously mauling her own pubis now, as this contemplation of male humiliation made her own juices flow. Her mind raced: look how they hate it...the lovely girls dressed so neatly, with such style...the naughty boys stark naked...all their secrets on display...in front of girls from their old school, their own street...yes, how excruciating for them...these grown-up fellas one year out of school...they've got frolicking girls laughing and pointing at their cocks and their ballsacks...making fun...memorising what they've seeing to share the revelations around...oh, fellas, you are suffering at this moment...looking over your shoulders thinking about those Moms arriving...or my Negro maids...being caught playing with your cocks...being your naughty masturbating male selves, playing with your little pricks- well, okay, one is voluminous to be sure...

but...yes...the young sap is rising in your equipment...oh, you naughty boys...I can see it in your eyes...quick here it comes...oh, a geyser from the short fella on the left...with the little uncircumcised cock that so focused the girls' attention...that figures, of course, the uncut boy has the most sensitive organ and can't hold back...oh, a lovely big spurt...his eyes look like they're popping out...oh, and another spurt...splash, onto the lillies...and a third...he has the four girls clapping...oh, and here comes shortie with the thick prick...like an oil spurt...out it comes...splosh! Onto the flower bed...a bit of human fertiliser...another big healthy spurt...goodness, what a machine! And another...oh, look at his expression...and don't those little ladies love it! Splash, a fourth spurt! Oh, you wicked little fella!

And here comes your buddy, tall, skinny, big nose and regressive chin, with the little prick...oh, watch that Adam's apple dancing...he's bending over...that's how much he's liking it...and up he comes, leaning backwards now...oops! A massive spray...from his little boy dick...another...and another...his sperm dancing in the air like fireworks...and...God, don't tell me! A fourth! And...suddenly...they're all deflated, ashamed at what they've done in front of the females...looking down at their cock heads, more of it dribbling out...and don't the girls love it! First time they've seen that! And...it happened because they ordered it...such brazen, forward girls!

The Doris Day-look-alike now stepped forward and...astonishing...she knelt...in front of the ugly tall boy...and took his deflating and smallish penis...and...and...guided it into ...her mouth! Appeared to gobble on it! Mrs Reilly pressed her La Meier opera glasses into her eye sockets. The girl's companions were shocked, the boy too. Mrs Reilly watched through her opera glasses astounded as the girl's cheeks hollowed and her mouth moved backwards and forwards, and all around his prick, appearing to suck from its end all that remained off his recent emission. The boy looked dazed, his companions gasped.

The girl continued her work while the three other girls giggled and pointed and mouthed astonishment...until one broke ranks and moved forward herself and greedily took the rolling pin penis on the short fella and strained her mouth to take in its head and suck away. She quickly looked as if she were enjoying it, too. The third boy looked at the two remaining girls, holding his small erection expectantly and...to his joy, the two of them advanced and laughingly competed to take his petite uncircumcised rod.

Girls sucking away...on naked boys...in her garden!

The boys seemed in a seventh heaven. The girls' jaws worked busily, greedily. When one girl stopped to pluck a stray pubic hair from her tongue, Mrs Reilly saw a completely rigid penis. The boy- the one with the outsize member- looked impatient for the pleasuring to resume.

And the naked lady exploded herself, a big, brazen orgasm that shook her tall, elegant figure and made her pearl necklace rattle and her opera glasses fall to the floor and nearly made her topple over in her narrow heeled shoes, as she gasped and heaved and thrust we hips.