Confessions of a Voyeuristic Mother Part 16

By Running Bare
runningbare@anonymousspeech.com

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for the purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be attempted in real life, as that would be harmful and/or illegal. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.

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Part 16: What Happened to My Mom? or I Was the Son of a Voyeur
by, Running Bare

It all started innocently enough. My mother called to me from the front yard. I had just removed my bathing suit after a swim in our above ground swimming pool and had put it in the deep sink. Next step was to run naked to my bedroom and get dressed. I hollered back, “I don't have any clothes on. I'll come out there after I get...”

My call was answered by Mom with a very peeved tone, “Get out here now. And leave your suit in the sink. I need your help.”

I was naked. I was nine years old and had developed a moderate level of modesty.   “Just give me a...”

“I said now. Forget your clothes. Get out here NOW!”

What's a boy to do? I clutched my penis and ball sack in my hands and shyly shuffled out to her in the front yard. Thank God it was a quiet street with little vehicular or pedestrian traffic, but the houses were in close proximity. Neighbors to the left and right, front and back all had unlimited visual access to our yard. Except for the house on the left, the others all had families about the same age as ours and most of them had young girls. On that day, thankfully, no one was out and about except my mother and completely naked me.

I approached Mom and she ordered the unthinkable, “Oh put your hands down and walk like a normal boy. Everyone has seen naked little boys. You're no different. Just put your hands down.”

I slowly lowered my hands, unleashing my four inch hard on. I remember it pointing out straight as an arrow. Mom just ignored it.

“I need for you to go down to the mail box and see if the mailman has been here yet. I'm expecting a child support check from your father.”

The mailboxes in our neighborhood were ganged in a covered area a block and a half down the road. I guess I assumed she meant after I got my clothes on. I turned to saunter back to the house and she just shouted, “Hey, where you goin'?” As I turned in astonishment she stood there holding our the key to the box. “I asked you to go check the mailbox. It's not in there, it's down there.” She nodded her head in the direction one would travel if he had shorts on and was going to get the mail. Problem was I didn't. I was astonished.

“You want me to go down there naked?”

Actually I couldn't believe it. My mother was far from a prude but this was entirely out of character for her.

“I thought I spoke clearly a minute ago. Go check the mail!”

I begged to let me get some clothes on. At least let me put my swim suit on. I couldn't go down the street naked. People would see me. She just stood there with the key loosely held in her extended hand. “Now!”

I grabbed the key, and with tears in my eyes, I ran as fast as I could. Along the way my fear of being discovered naked caused me to begin crying a bit audibly. I fumbled a bit trying to get the key in the box. The door opened and the box was empty. I felt a bit relieved as I closed the metal door and was about to begin my run home when Mrs. Collins drove up. I stood there mesmerized as she got out of her car, and, in the presence of a naked neighbor boy, just asked, “Has he been here yet, Jeff?”
No, “What are you doing running around naked!”, No, “Where are your clothes?” or “Does your mother know you're running around the neighborhood naked?” No. This lady just wanted to know if the damned mail had arrived yet.

I remember shyly looking down at my hands cupping my boyhood and just mumbling, “No.” I also remember wondering how that could possibly have been the only thing on her mind at that point. Then it followed.

“You should take your hands away from your little boy parts. The way you're standing makes folks think your playing with yourself. Besides, I'd love to see that cute little penis of yours. If you're going to run around naked in the first place, why are you hiding it anyway?” She reached over and guided my protective hands away from the target of her interest. “See now that's a very respectable penis you've got there. I love to see little boys with stiffies. They are sooo cute. Does your mother know you're running around naked?”

I answered that Mom made me go the mailbox nude. And, Mrs. Collins asked the inevitable, “Aren't you afraid the little girls in the neighborhood will see you like this?”   I remember thinking how bright could she be if she had to ask. Of course I was worried about being discovered by anyone. I didn't like her finding me naked and I certainly wasn't becoming anymore comfortable standing there having a conversation with her. She then gently patted my butt cheek and said she had to get home. No shit, so did I!

Again, I raced full speed to the house. I don't know if anyone else saw me or not. Frankly, I didn't care. I was just glad to enter the shelter of our kitchen. I handed Mom the key. Still frustrated at the ordeal I had tears welling up in my eyes as I demanded to know why she made me do that. She explained that my father was out of the picture and she'd read that boys shouldn't be shy about their bodies. Modesty was for females and not males. She felt she had to impart those insights in me and making me show myself to others was a good way to do it. My thoughts at the moment were, “Really? I mean, really, Mom?” I didn't verbalize them as I didn't want to aggravate her.

She continued to explain that I was a very handsome boy and she felt showing me to others made her proud. She specifically commented on my “athletic frame” and my shapely and smooth legs and backside. After she complimented how well I tanned, she bragged admiringly about my clean cut penis with such a prominent head, my scrotum and its contents. She finished her tour of my body with explaining how she thought I was beautiful and I want to share my beauty with others. Something about evening out my tan was thrown in there at one point or another. My head was spinning at what she was saying.

She held up the key and told me I could check again in an hour. As I turned to leave the kitchen she dropped another bomb, “So, you can just stay bare for the time being.” Yep, she expected to and did send me back a second time naked as the day I was born.

The afternoon of the outrageous request for me to get the mail naked, I was further astounded by Mom. She called me to where she was sitting in the living room, took me by the bare hips, looked me earnestly in the eye and said, “I think it's best that you stay naked for as much of the next three years as I can arrange. That means no clothes, none at all, unless I tell you to put them on. I know you will have to wear them to school, church, or the maybe the mall or restaruants if we go in, but other than that there's no reason you shouldn't be running around naked. You're beautiful and I want as much time as I can get to enjoy looking at you.”

I was floored. I had no comeback argument to offer as I couldn't speak. My mouth just hung agape. She continued, “Every evening and at times during the day, I will want to cuddle with you and rub your body. You like massages. Now we have a whole lot more territory to cover.” Her hand gently stroked my hard penis. “I just want to remember and cherish these boyhood moments forever. After all you are my only child.”

She continued to stroke my penis save for a few passes at my scrotum when she rearranged the contents with a gentle massage. I can't say it didn't feel good, but the whole thing destroyed the rules I had been taught by the school and the very woman who was not violating them. What really bothered me was not so much my mother's gentle fondling. It was the idea that I was going to have to be naked in front of other people—people I knew and people I didn't. What in the hell was motivating my mother's sudden breakdown?

I suppose, after reading the accounts in this series, she was got some sexual gratification out of it. Forcing her only son to be nude when he wasn't at school and watching him suffer the humiliation and embarrassment of doing so was somehow stimulating to her. Isn't that what all this voyeurism stuff is about? She got off on watching me exhibit all my bodily secrets to people who wanted even more.

Now, I don't know how many of you have ever experienced being forced to present yourself to the general public naked, but it does cause some psycho-sexual reactions even as a preadolescent. First, you can't avoid the boner. It's a given. And, from the very first time, you have a choking feeling and you can feel your face as it turns red and the embarrassment takes hold. On the other hand, you also kind of hope you are discovered. It's a weird mix of emotion.

Over the years I have known boys who loved to expose themselves. They found doing so humorous and even fun. They even encouraged folks to play with their stiff little appendages. That was not where I was coming from. Though I would later have to admit, the fondling was at first uncomfortable but later became calming and enjoyable. But, hey, who knew? It seemed a mixed message. Society seemed to find fault with it, but as a young recipient of such attention I couldn't find the harm. I felt bad about nakedness and gentle touching because I was taught that was the appropriate response to such experiences, not because I felt that way after experiencing it. I loved the feeling of arousal it gave me and the physical pleasure of being touched. That said, I never lost the embarrassment of having to put myself in that position. Maybe it was because everyone else was covered and I was the different one. I was the center of attention.

Let me share a few of the most shocking incidents that followed the pronoucement.

Within moments of Mom's explanation of the new policy the phone rang. I knew instantly the call was about me. She kept using the pronouns him and he. It was then she said, “Yes, it's going to be a new policy for him.” She smiled at me and chatted for a few moments more. When she hung up she told me it was Mrs. Collins and she wanted to make sure Mom knew I was “parading” around the neighborhood naked. Other than acknowledging the fact it was her mandate that I was to stay naked, nothing more of the call was shared with me.

After dinner I was told to stretch out on the area rug covering the living room floor.   Apprehensive of where Mom was going, I chose to lay in a prone position shielding my genitals. She turned on the television and sat down beside me. I was given the opportunity to choose the programming and I did so. As I propped my head up with my hands to watch the show, I felt Mom's gentle touch lightly caresseing my ass cheeks. The surprise of her touch caused me to do a slight lurch, but I soon settled back down and enjoyed the attention to my bottom. Eventually, her hands slid down the backs of my legs. I remember the relaxing sensation I got as she kneaded my calf muscles. Then she worked my favorite target for her touch before that night, my feet. Following that she returned to one of her favorite sites, my backside. After kneading it and spreading my cheeks for a quick visit to the crack and hole, she moved up and did my shoulders and back. Again she returned to my ass, more aggressively spread my cheeks and fingered my anus. I was a bit concerned when she turned her attention to the latter and half expected penetration. It didn't happen. She grabbed my hips and twisted to indicate her desire that I roll over. I complied freeing a boner I'd developed shortly after she'd started the massage.

I was self conscious about the stiff appendage, but she just ignored it. She allowed me to shift my position so I could see the television. Then she spread my legs and began toying with my penis and scrotum. At first, I nervously chuckled, reached down and attempted to protect my genitals from her assault. She just moved my hands to my sides. I didn't resist. Her hands returned to my boy parts and she began to gently stroke them. I remember her pinching the scrotum and lightly stretching it and then using her middle and forefingers to rearrange my testicles. Then my glans was the recipient of her attention as she gently rubbed it and culimnated her exploration with a pinch or two to open the urethra. I just kept watching TV, but I wasn't hearing or concentrating on the programming, I was enjoying the feelings she was invoking in me. Her hands slid down the front of my legs. She stopped to play with my knee caps and went on to my feet which she spent a moment or two massaging again.

The truth of the matter was I longed for her to return to working my penis and scrotum. It was then I questioned why we were told in school and even by Mom herself that those parts should never be touched. It felt good and I longed for her to spend more time playing with them. I'd lost my guilt and nervous giggle when she returned to that site, partially because it was my very mother who was working them and I had to trust that made it all right and partly because I wanted it to happen. After a couple of minutes she moved up to my face. Her fingers lightly traced around my hairline down to my cheeks, nose, mouth and chin. Her attention to my chest felt good. But, I wanted her to hurry back to my groin. Which she did after a momentary stop to comically put her finger in my inny.

As she grabbed my hard penis again, she asked whether I liked the massage. I choked out a quiet “yes”. She asked specifically if it bothered me to have her touching my boy parts. I was perplexed. Was this a test? Was I supposed to say it bothered me? I chose to be honest because I didn't want to risk that she'd stop.

The massages were to become daily experiences. Sometime I'd get two or three a day. What I do remember was I longed for those sessions with Mom, but I didn't like being touched by others. To this day I wonder if some basic instinct for such maternal touch was to credit for the difference. Who knows?

Many times, over the years, I would be fondled by others. Usually as my mother watched or at least had given her okay to feel me there. Though it wasn't the same as Mom's stimulation and it made me uncomfortable, I didn't exactly reject them either as long as they were gentle.

That night I slept nude for the first time in my life. Every night for as long as I could remember I always slept in my briefs. Actually, the sheets felt more refreshing as I slid between them. My bare backside and genitals were quick to telegraph the coolness I'd never experienced before, and, oddly, I liked it. As a result I still sleep nude today.

The only time sleeping in the nude bothered me was when I was invited to sleepovers during those three or four years. Mom would allow me to go, but she'd call the supervising parent(s) and make it clear I was to sleep naked. She wouldn't even negotiate that condition. Either I was stripped naked after dinner or I wasn't allowed to go. That was ackward when my friends parents complied (sometimes they said they would, but they didn't). For those who did, I'd be naked as the day I was born and made to play with as many as three other clothed friends. Mr. and Mrs. Evans, my best friend Randy's parents, were even more understanding. All boys sleeping over when I was there were made to strip naked, “So Jeff doesn't feel embarrassed”. After all these years I think I can safely say, my nudity at their house was an excuse for them to enjoy being surrounded my many naked boys. I think all adults have the drive to be voyeurs when young boys can be made to run around nude.

I'm often asked if making me be nude didn't get Mom into trouble. No, it didn't. To make matters worse for me, the Department of Children's Services was contacted. Mom insists today it was a “self-righteous, do-gooder” neighbor. We were never to know for sure. To this day I wonder if it wasn't Mrs. Collins. I write it off each time because she didn't seem the least bit rattled at the mailboxes that day.

The social worker came to the house. I answered the door (Mom always made me answer the door and I was cautioned covering up my penis would result in a brush or wooden spoon on my backside when whoever left.) fully exposed. The woman smiled and asked me where my clothes were. I told her I wasn't allowed to wear any. The expression on her face was nothing less than distainful, but what does and nine year old naked boy know about such things. She and Mom sat at the kitchen table for a long time. I watched TV in the living room, but I did catch Mom angrily commenting, “He's my son and I'll decide what he needs to be doing. Who the hell is some do-gooder to interfere?” I remember the lady reassuring Mom as they stood at the door. The lady just bid me a good bye and Mom shut the door. Nothing further was to come of it. When I was older Mom recounted that visit.   Because I was preadolescent she could dress me or undress me as she saw fit while I was in her care, but school and other places she'd have to be more conservative. It was already how she was handling it, so nothing was to change. If anything that visit and its outcome didn't inhibit Mom, it emboldened her.

Aunt Gladys was the next surprise. She and my cousins, Aaron (11), Cindy (9) and Candace, Candy for short (8) showed up at the door. Being family they just invited themselves in and without warning my naked ass was surrounded by three staring kids and their mother. Cindy announced the obvious, “Jeff's naked. Look you can see this thing!” Aunt Gladys was quick to calm her down making it sound like it was perfectly logical that I should be nude in front of all of them.

“Your Aunt Mandy has told him he has to be naked. Isn't his little boy thing there cute?” What? Talk about feeling on display. First, they show up and now it seems the only reason for it was my nakedness.

Mom enter with the usual greetings. Cindy again brought the obvious to her attention. “Why's Jeff got to be naked?”

Mom had a very honest reply. Like it or not, I had to live with it. “Well, I like seeing him naked. Don't you? Isn't his peepee cute?” What was the kid supposed to reply? “I like to rub his boy parts too. Would you like to do that?” I wanted to draw a line with that invitation, but was at a loss as to how I could overcome her maternal authority. Of course Candy was the first to shout out that she wanted to touch me. Mom ordered me to standup, spread my legs, put my hands behind my back, and then told her to go ahead. I wanted to cry as her hand engulfed my, now again stiff, penis. She just giggled and looked for adult approval which she got from the smiles the two women shared at the sight. Her feel was followed by Cindy's exploration.

Aaron just stood there watching with a worried look on his face. I surmised by his silence and indifferent stare as his sisters played with my penis and ball sack, he was thinking he might be asked to join me in full exposition. I felt his concern. Mom apparently didn't want Aaron to be left out. She invited him to explore my crotch as well. He, of course, declined. Again, I supposed to avoid getting too close to being included. He wanted the low key posture-- out of sight, out of mind.

Didn't work though. Aunt Gladys followed the activity with a suggestion, “Aaron why don't you take off your clothes so your cousin doesn't feel so alone?”

His response was perfectly predictable and normal-- a nervous “I think I'll pass.” And, he didn't have to.   Later in the day the boy got enough moxy to feel my junk under the watchful eye of my mother and aunt. He was asked to put the sunscreen on me and that included my package and ass. At first he acted like that was weird, but as he got going he seemed to spend and inordinate amount of time stroking and massaging me down there. Not to mention he noticably tented his swim trunks. It was ackward for me too. I never expected him to apparently enjoy touching another of his gender. But then again, I'd have liked to feel his too if the opportunity arose.

Aunt Gladys busied herself with the cellphone camera. I remember wondering how much battery life she had in the damned thing. Her favorite composition was one of her kids or another playing with my items of interest. Of course, Mom had to demostrate her massage techniques for her to record as well.

This visit was when the magnitude of what Mom was thinking surfaced. To that day the only exposure I'd had was the trip to the mailbox and skinny dipping in our above ground pool. Aunt Gladys and her kids were the only people, other than Mrs. Collins and that social worker, who'd been made aware of my new situation. Now that I think back though, I'm sure my skinny dipping must have caught the attention of one or another of our neighbors. Maybe it was Mrs. Collins who called Chidren's Services after all.

Later in the week, Mom sent me to the mailbox at least three more times. My luck ran out of course on my second trip. A few of the other kids in our neighborhood were out and about and try as I might, I was unable to avoid detection. They of course approached and laughed at my pedicament. They also started teasing and name calling. I shielded myself with the mail I was carrying, but it was insufficient to maintain coverage. Eventually, each of them at one time or another got the glimpse they sought, and all of them got a full on shot of my bare ass as I tried to run home.

I don't know what spurred it, but one evening Mom said we needed to go to Wendy's. I guess I was expecting being exposed to a new girl. Seemed Mom enjoyed watching me being explored by young girls as evidenced by Cindy and Candy's visit. Anyway, we got in the car, me naked in the passenger seat and her at the wheel. She gave her usual command to buckle up, I did. I must admit even at that time I was aprehensive about who this Wendy was and how badly I would be humiliated when we got there. My thoughts were interrupted by Mom's next command, “When you ride in the car, I want you to keep your knees spread apart and don't even think of covering up your penis. I want you to sit that way no matter what or who is with us. Understood?' I spread my legs and allowed that tidbit to roll around in my mind.

You can only imagine my surprise when we pulled into the drive-up at our local Wendy's restaruant. She asked what I wanted for supper. I gave her my choice and she placed the order at the speaker. Then before pulling ahead she cautioned me to keep my legs spread and my hands under my backside. I knew I'd soon be on display to some unsuspecting fast food worker. I remember thinking that maybe I was in far enough I wouldn't be seen. Wrong. “Oh my God, Valerie come over here and look at this cute little boy. Come quick.” The girl at the window summoned one person, Valerie, whoever the hell she was, and, after her excited remark, had managed to pull three more teen workers to the window, I assume out of curiosity. “What a cute little tool.” I stiffened knowing they were now checking out my boyhood. “Hey, lady, doesn't your kid have any clothes?”

Mom smiled, “No not for the near future.”

“Oh, stop the questions. You might get her to make him dress up and we couldn't see that cute little boner. Wish I wasn't working. I'd love to go out there and give him a little feel.”

The girl, Valerie, then chimed in, “You make him stay naked all the time?”

“Well not when he goes to school, or to the mall, or if we were going to come inside to eat. But, to go through the drive-in he has to be naked.”

“I love it. I think I'll tell my Mom to do this to my little brother. He needs to be knocked down a peg.”

With that we left and headed home.

It wasn't until later in the week the neighborhood kids learned how much privilege they were to have over my body. Three of the neighbor boys came over to ask if “Jeff could come out to play”.   Of course, I didn't want to, but Mom was set on making that happen. As she summoned me to the door to talk to my “friends”, I sheepishly covered my genitals and approached. It was like dejavue from Aunt Gladys' visit, “Hey, Mrs. Addison, why's he got to be naked?” Mom's response much the same including the inviation to touch. Judging from the boys faces that inviation didn't fall on deaf ears. Mom also must have noticed as she followed with, “Gently, though.”

Two of these boys were in my grade at school, but not in my class. The other was a year older. But all were obviously anxious to get on with some unsupervised play outside. I knew why.

Ever had a tree branch stuck in your asshole? I have. Every have your penis and scrotum whipped by a branch from a rose bush? I have. Ever spanked with another boy's belt? I have. Or, even better yet, but not so painful, ever had your friend's dog lick peanut butter off your balls and penis? I have. Thankfully, the invitation and encouragement for the dog to bite as he was flicked in the snout by my erect penis didn't get the desired results.

To make matters worse, Mom often invited one or all of those boys to sleepovers and she recorded their shenanigans during those “play dates”.

And, those shows were just when I was a the mercy of the boys, supposedly my friends.   The girls were torturous. They yanked and pull on my penis relentlessly not to mention sticking things like coffee stirsticks in my urethra.   At least the boys would feel some empathy in that they were similarly equipped and could imagine the discomfort of each assault.

The neigborhood mothers were in full agreement with Mom about keeping me naked, but none of them had the interest in making their boys exhibitionists. They just enjoyed me. They too would often feel my balls and penis especially when I got hard. Only they had to fabricate some medically related excuse to do it. “Oh, honey, your penis looks pretty red. Better let me have a look at it.”

Mothers and fathers all used my presence as a photo opportunity. I have probably been the most photographed boy alive. Some of the poses them made me assume were embarrassing revealing. I'll leave that up to your imagination.

What I learned during those three years of being the neighborhood nudist is that boys tend to be curious about anuses and the girls are much more oriented to penises and testicles. As a philosopher of such things I have to say I think it has to do with being able to access their own penises and balls with sight and touch takes away a lot of curiosity, but their own anus was pretty well hidden from view and I presented the opportunity to learn more about them. The girls on the other hand just wanted to become more familiar with the appendage that seemed to have a life of its own as they manhandled it.

One night shortly after the new dress code was implemented, Gail Thornton my fourteen year old babysitter was summoned. Mom had a date. She was quite surprised to see me naked. She'd never seen me that way before, but it was evident she found it interesting.l Her eyes were glued on my crotch. Mom was very diplomatic. “I hope you don't mind, but I'm trying something new with Jeff. He has to stay naked. I hope you aren't offended.”   Gail smiled and said she was perfectly okay with that. It was almost what you'd call a gleeful response. “I know you might be put out at the next request. But, he needs to be massaged before bed. Just spread him out and massage him front and back. I usually give a lot of attention to his boy parts and bottom during those massages as he seems to enjoy that most. Don't you Jeff?”

I remember wondering how she knew. I did but I'd never let on that I liked being fondled. My answer was, “Not really.” I thought that was the expected response.

“It doesn't matter. Gail, just make sure you spend a half hour or so on his bedtime massage and he's to wear nothing. Nothing at all!”

Gail spent the better part of an hour massaging my penis and ball sack. She even asked at one point if there was some other body area I'd like her to rub. I actually said, “No. Just rub me there.” She was delighted. Then she moved her finger tip between my legs and she became the first person to shove her finger up my hole. I mean all the way in. I did object to that. Didn't matter she just kept feeling around in there almost sadisticly holding me in place. As she did that she actually licked my erection and balls. After that she removed her finger and pushed me aside so she could go wash it off. When she came back she put my across her lap face up and continued toying with my boy parts. She never brought up the intrusion she had just put on me, and I never shared it with anyone until now. I must admit, unlike her massaging my package, I found the anal penetration uncomfortable.

One of the other experiences was my first exposure on a public beach. Mom actually took me naked. I'd never seen a naked kid on the beach before and I'm sure it was a first for most of the people who were there. My experience was that I was fine and perfectly flaccid until I was ordered out of the car in the beach parking lot. As I shut the door my bad boy reacted.

Before we got to the first sand dune, some kid called out to his parents about the naked kid. It could only be me. His parents kind of shushed him. I think it was the first time my nudity seem to embarrass someone else. They whispered something to him and he shut up, but whatever they said didn't affect his gaze, or, for that matter, theirs. It did lead me to beg Mom for a towel to wrap around me, “just until we get the blanket out”. Wasn't going to happen.

Did you ever play with dominos where you stand them up and push the first one? Well, then you might be able to imagine the way it looked when we walked on to the beach area and Mom started to get us organized. For as far as the eye could see, people on blanket were turning to take in the view of the nine year old naked boy. First, the closest, then the next closest, and on down ten or twenty blankets or towels. People sunning themselves pulled their sunglasses off their nose for a clearer view of what was going on. Kids ran over to our space and glared at me. Some even asked, “Hey, where's your swimsuit?” I was so embarrassed I ignored them. Mom took the lead that silence left.

“He doesn't wear one. He likes to be naked.”

No he didn't. But, hey, how could I refute her?

Some little girl muttered, “Look his boy thing is sticking out.” Which brought some laughter.

Mom was interrupted by the lady on the blanket next to ours. “When I'm an mother, if I have a boy, I hope I'll have the guts to make him come to the beach naked. I really like your son's all over tan.”

“Oh there's nothing to it. You just tell him he has to stay naked all the time unless you give him permission to put on clothing. So far, I only allow him clothes to go to school. I don't know why frankly. Most of the kids at his school have seen him naked by now. Most of them have given his little shaft a firm tug too.”

That embarrassing conversation went on for ten or twenty minutes as Mom applied sunscreen to me. There was one or two minute pause as she coated my erection and tight ball sack with the lotion. Our new friend was speechless as she watched that happen.

An hour or so later, I'd been back and forth to the surf a few times. I was aware there were a lot of eyes on me the whole time. At one point, Mom called over to our beach neighbor, “I hate to ask but I have to go to the car for a moment. Would you mind?” She held up the sunscreen. The lady almost broke her neck getting up to retrieve the squirt bottle.

“Oh no, not at all. It would be my pleasure.”

I'm sure it was. She took the bottle from Mom. My mother's parting instruction was, “Be sure to get it worked into his boy parts really well. We wouldn't want those all sunburned.” From the attention this complete stranger gave to my scrotum and penis, I was certain of two things. One, I wouldn't burn. If I did that sunsceen stuff was overrated, and two, it was her pleasure. She rolled my erect penis around so much I was afraid she'd break it off.

The whole beach scene replayed itself many, many times over the following three years. Each year it was a whole new orientation process, but each time some stranger got to put sunscreen on me. Even over my protests that I could do it myself, Mom always made me succumb to someone else applying it.

Those, my readers, are just a few memorable circumstances having been raised by a voyeurist. Perhaps if I had been made to romp naked consistently from birth on I wouldn't have had the scrupples I did being unveiled at nine, but I guess I'll never know. If you are considering doing this to your son(s), I'd recommend you start early. Mom did stop requiring my nudity when pubic hair sprung up. She did, however, ask on many occasions afterward if I wouldn't be more comfortable naked. My choice was always, “NOT!!”

In fairness to all, I was never sodomized or physically abused by any adults during those days. I guess, under today's definitions, I was abused when fondled, but, you know, I liked being fondled. It felt good. What I didn't like was being continually exposed to clothed people. I didn't like the embarrassment and humiliation of it all. I didn't like some of the tortures I felt at the hands of my peers back then either.   Some of it was painful, but it was never an adult inflicting the pain. The adults were always gentle when they fondled and posed me for their digital images.

What I still don't understand is why the other boys in the neighborhood weren't made by their parents to join me. I mean misery truly would have loved company. If all the other boys had to be naked until puberty, I probably wouldn't have been quite so embarrassed and humiliated.

(End of File)