Young swimmers excited by having been watched...
John Lawrence lay in bed, sleepless and, for the third time tonight, his fingers sticky with emissions. He was trembling all over from that encounter in the swimming pool of Grover Cleveland High. Hell, it had been the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Coach Compton had ordered him to leave poolside and go over to the bleachers where about 20 women and girls had been watching the boys swimming. "Tell them how grateful our team is to have a party of fans cheering us on," the coach had instructed.
John had begged to be spared this task or to be allowed to pull on a pair of trunks or drape a towel around his middle. Hell, he knew some of the girls and mothers and he didn't want them to see him naked! Coach had stood firm. So he had found himself shuffling and stuttering, stark naked in front of the females, pretending to be game about it but stricken because he knew that every one of them was relishing seeing every naked inch of his 18 year old physique.
Relishing the view of a boy they knew- from school, neighbourhood, church- standing there all embarrassed, in his birthday suit.
Especially his Sunday School teacher, Mrs Pebbles.
Oh hell! Her eyes!
He had nodded slightly when their eyes had met, him blushing and close to tears. And she was staring all the time...every minute...her brown eyes glinting with lubricious interest...while girls talked about how sweet it was to see boys they knew swimming as "naked as Adam" and one mother said, no, she felt sorry for boys like John because of how hard it must be for adolescent boys to appear nude in front of females...(oh, the shame of hearing that!)...but other girls chimed in and said they just enjoyed seeing boys naked...they just liked the sight. How their conversation had gone on and on, while he had just stood there, like a prize specimen for their theories!
But Mrs Pebbles had made it so hard, this young wife of their minister with her brown eyes and lustrous hair, because her gaze had been fastened on his cock- with its wrinkled stem, its somewhat heavy head, resting on his hairy ballsac. Although towards the end of his ordeal, having slaked her curiosity, she had switched to staring in wonderment at his hairy torso- the square of hair on his chest thicker at the neck, the trunk running down to his belly button where it thickened again, the burst of pubic jungle in his groin.
She had dilated on his big secret: he was the most hirsute boy at school, except for little Stevie Lynton.
Boy, he was embarrassed by that. Shamed.
He got up again, for the fourth time that night, and switched on the bedside lamp.
The clock told him it was 20 past midnight. His high school pennants decorated the walls along with model planes. He looked at himself in the full length mirror bequeathed him by his grandmother. He stood even closer. Yes, he thought, this is the view that Mrs Pebbles had enjoyed. She had seen all his waves of chest hair...chest hair he kept hidden from his mother and sisters he was so ashamed of this eruption of adulthood on his torso...his cheeky cock with its top heavy shape...the hairy globular sack...
...hell, she had seen his balls!
Mrs Pebbles, his adorable Sunday school teacher, had seen his balls!
He felt a sweet gooey bundle of shame in his insides.
The thought gave him a shiver of erotic humiliation.
His long eyelashes flickered furiously.
His dick sprang to life again.
His fingers enclosed it.
That day, walking homeward after school, John talked to Bud Lanter. Bud was also in the swim team, goofy looking with an Elvis cut, a tentative spray of young man's fuzz on his freckled torso, a taunt tummy that curved outwards. He, too, had been ordered by the coach to walk up to the females and, blushing and quaking, thank them for coming to the swim class and taking an interest in their progress and cheering the boy swimmers.
Bud's own sister had been in the group. Some of her friends. But he had had no alternative. He had been forced to walk across to the females and present himself buck nude. He had nearly fainted especially as he had felt his cock stretching and knew they had noticed. And he knew he had a real cartoon dick, with a bit of a curve and a well shaped crown.
Both boys discussed their experience.
They agreed being seen naked like that "hurt your feelings"- a quaint phrase so widely used in tv family dramas.
John Lawrence told his buddy the "spooky" shame he had felt with Mrs Pebbles looking him over. She had seemed particularly happy looking right at his cock. John admitted her smile had given him the creeps. But he said it had also made him excited in a "weird" way.
"Made me go all...jittery. You know?"
Bud said he knew exactly that feeling. "Like you're totally humiliated. The shame. But it excites you."
John agreed. Humiliating...
...but exciting in a weird way.
"Had to jerk off five times last night..thinking about her looking at me," he confessed.
What were buddies for, if you couldn't share secrets like this?
"But...I'm going on Sunday...and I want her looking at me...oh yeah, wearing my Sunday best...but making her think about me nude...thinking of what she had seen..."
They stopped, under the perforated shade of one of the great elms in Franklin Street, both breathing heavily. Both plainly excited by the prospect.
Bud said he wanted to go with John, to be there too, standing once more in front of Mrs Pebbles- she, who had taken such an interest in his bouncy cock, with its well shaped head, and his balls, dangling somewhat low and very visible in their sac.
He said he wanted to be standing in front of her again, feeling dirty thoughts about his awful, shameful nakedness and her lively-eyed interest in it.
He spoke with a strange intensity.
With haunted, excited glints in their eyes the two agreed that on Sunday they would be present at her class. Both suffered a jutting in their flies- and both noticed the jutting of the other- as they parted, homewards, each to vanish swiftly into his bedroom and peel off his clothes.
Boys stripped backstage...
Miss Cuff, their high school drama teacher, and Martha Bagnet, head of the college drama department, looked out on the scene. The teacher through her cats eyes glasses, the college lecturer through her pince nez. Their eyes flared. There was a lot to take in, here backstage at the Doris Wordsworth Theatre of Myra Shrewsbury Teachers College, the all-girls school famous through the mid-West. Yes, behind the proscenium arches and the red velvet curtains and faded scenery- here, backstage- a most enthralling scene was presenting itself.
A dozen 18 year old fellas were about to be undressed by females- by the sisters, sisters' friends and mothers who had escorted them. The blushing boys were to be stripped completely nude- with no recourse to underwear, the instructions had said- and helped into tights, and then be required to decorate the stage while the young women of the college drama club performed female roles from Shakespeare. The boys were to pose, while the girls performed.
The tights had been carefully fitted by Mrs Carruthers and her maid, Yuela. They were being delivered tonight by Mrs Carruthers and her maid.
But there was around 45 minutes till "curtains up."
"Costumes on the way," announced Miss Cuff. "But to save time, let's get the boys shucked down..."
Boys assumed the looks of frightened deer.
"...with the help of family and friends."
The women and girls were skittish, frolicsome.
"So Rodney, let's start," said Mrs Ricketson facing her 18 year old athlete son with his red hair in a cute, school fella hair cut. And she began to unbutton his checked, flannel shirt. His sister beamed, lubriciously.
"Gosh, mom, I can do it..."
But she was parting the shirt and steering it off his arms and- hell!- his sister was behind him, digging below his snake skin belt to haul out his white Bonds T shirt and jerk that up his V shaped back. In a flash it was over his head and his torso was exposed, his V-shaped torso, large pink-orange medallions on his chest... with a faint smell of fear wafting from his armpits.
"Oh mom! Sally...no!"
I don't want my sister to see my prick, he mentally lamented- even as his mother started unbuckling him and his sister began jiggling the rear of his jeans to loosen them for the approaching descent.
"Mom...let me do it...please!"
His voice quailed.
"Now, Rodney, I've seen you undressed plenty of times now..."
"Oh gee, mom! Not...not...in front of her!"
It was his sister he feared. Sally wanted Rodney's prick on display so she could see his secret. And she longed to have him humiliated. Oh, that was a delicious, delicious thought: her brother nude and doubling over with hands pressed to his groin, the ultimate embarrassed naked boy. Naked and ashamed. And knowing from rumour he was astonishingly well endowed she wanted to show her brother off to other girls. The length? The head? And his balls? How might it compare with her boyfriend's? Cute, short, blond Bobby Burgess had a splendid bit of equipment- "Short guys always have big cocks," he'd assured her as, on the first date, he had slipped off his jeans- and she now inspected it in all their games of "back seat bingo."
Rodney saw her eyes on fire. He felt her eagerness in the air.
So his mother and sister were whisking his jeans downwards, all the way, and exposing Rodney in his jockstraps - worn in the hope that he might be able to keep them on under the tights.
At his rear his sister wolf whistled, taking in the delicious sight of his glutes exposed between the bands of his jocks.
