Delaware Beach

By Running Bare
runningbare@anonymousspeech.com

* * * * *
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.

* * * * *

Story inspired by the book and film “A Death in Venice”. An attractive preteen is groomed by a boy loving vacationer and eventually forced to be exposed on a public beach.

Delaware Beach

By, Running Bare

I couldn’t take my eyes off the boy. He was ten or eleven in my best estimate and squatting down on the beach looking at something of interest—shell, crab, driftwood—who knows? Who cares? I was glued to his beautifully tanned body. Thank God, the Speedo was still being manufactured and his parent(s) felt they needed to force the kid to display his flawless body. His legs were what first caught my attention. His knees were squared as he squatted. His inner thighs invited my eyes, and wishfully my hands, to trace up toward his prominent bulge. He had to have spent a lot of time in that skimpy Speedo as his tan was consistent right up to the elastic leg bands on his suit. The short cropped black hair was obviously cut for the summer. His interest in whatever he was poking with his fingers had caused him to have a very quizzical expression on his handsome face.

I had to see this kid naked. Just for a moment if need be, but I really was driven to see the entirety of his attractiveness. But, how in the hell could I, a complete stranger, get to the point of such an intimate look at him?

Crawling up from my beach towel I walked over to the boy and asked, “What ‘ya got there?” He looked up at me thankfully maintaining the squat position. He shrugged his shoulders and said he didn’t know. Explaining he’d seen something retreat into the small hole in the sand. His watchful, what had to be sister, cast her momentary glance toward me. It was evident she was appraising the level of danger this stranger talking to her brother put him in. Our smiles toward each other seemed to reassure her that I was just making small talk with the kid or that I was interested in his discovery and nothing more. If so, she was mistaken. I wanted a closer look at the kid’s body from head to toe.

Not to push it, I asked questions about the boy’s find. He kept poking, albeit cautiously, at the hole with his finger and describing what he and I both could see. I guess his sister’s curiosity got the best of her and she walked down to investigate my intention more than the boy’s discovery.

She introduced herself using just her first name. And confirmed my first read of their relationship. She was his sister. I returned the nicety and explained I was curious about what had caught the boy’s attention. It was then she introduced Anthony indirectly by addressing him by name while asking him what he was up to. At last I had a small hook to get to know them better and having grasped and used his name, I was able to make our informal interaction just a little bit more intimate.

I returned to my towel and moved it within casual discussion range of my new acquaintance. We both stared out toward the beach at Anthony, waist deep in the surf, jumping to clear each wave as it closed in on him. Though the sunglasses prevented us from ascertaining the target of that gaze, I can assure you mine remained on her well-proportioned little brother.

After ten minutes of so, the glistening, well-tanned, wet body of the preteen headed up toward his sister’s lounge chair. As he stood before her dripping saltwater, he questioned when lunch was to be served. I kept visually tracing up and down the boy’s skin surfaces stopping to admire the well pronounced calf muscles and the limited glimpse of his lower butt cheeks as they peeked out from under the leg openings of his brief bathing suit.

In our small talk, I was able to ascertain that Carolyn was twenty-two and her little brother was indeed eleven. Doing the math, I assumed Anthony was probably the product of a moment of sexual carelessness on the part of his parents. I mean an eleven-year difference was a considerable spacing.

Being twenty-five myself, I felt close enough in age to build a closer relationship to these young siblings during our beach stay.

On his second visit to the area where we were seated Anthony, dripping wet, smile on his face, stood front and center with a shell he’d retrieved from the shoreline. It was then my sunglass shielded gaze went directly to his covered genitals. Being wet, the polyester material was matted against his boy parts and definitely exhibited the shapes and size of both his scrotum and the length and girth of his penis. As I stared momentarily at the raised outline of his obviously circumcised penis, my desire to see him without the coverage increased. I continued my visual examination wondering why anyone would bother teasing everyone with that suit? I suggest a tease as most other boys on that beach were attired in board shorts. It was hard to find a boy in trunks much less Speedo type attire. If that was the intention of adults in his life, rather than veiling the boy’s genitals, why not expose him to the entire beachgoing public? It was obvious whoever bought the kid his clothes wanted as much of him exposed as legally possible. There was no attempt at providing modesty. They had to know the Speedo would leave little to the imagination. Was Anthony aware of how limited his coverage was? Did he care?

As I day dreamed of removing the boy’s covering, my own appendage began to respond. It was advantageous that I was in wearing long trunks. They were baggy enough for me to disguise the tenting without drawing attention to my erection.

Truthfully, I envisioned Anthony hard as a rock with that cute little glans peeking out the top of those Speedos or perhaps out one of the leg openings. I wondered how or if he’d react to such an exposure. I dreamt of massaging it so the erection was maintained. But, hey, the whole imagined situation was much too premature. Both he and his sister needed grooming before that could even remotely become reality. I truly wish it’d be as easy as, “Hey, Anthony, take off your suit. I want you to play naked!” We all know that wasn’t going to happen.

I felt compelled to explain my own intentions. I wanted the boy naked. I wanted to take photos of his bare ass and penis as he romped naked on a clothed beach. Hopefully his face would exhibit his humiliation and embarrassment. I wanted to feel his scrotum and penis as I gently massaged him. For some reason, though, I never wanted nor have I ever pursued an anal or oral sexual encounter with a kid. Among my desires, the feel of his boyhood was actually second to observing the humiliation and embarrassment of a boy his age at being forced to be naked in public. The voyeurism of his public nudity was my ultimate desired erotic outcome.

While watching the boy as he entertained himself back at the surf, Carolyn and I chit-chatted about life’s circumstances. I mentioned that I was a counselor for families with kids with behavior problems. I wasn’t, but I felt being self-ordained to such a profession would increase the credibility of any suggestions I might have regarding her brother Anthony.

Carolyn filled in a whole lot of blanks when she explained that her dad left home before Anthony turned two and their mother had died after a short bout with breast cancer not six months before our meeting. She proudly informed me she was her brother’s official guardian. Her mom had luckily purchased a sizeable life insurance policy a few years before her diagnosis. That point was followed with a few remarks about the pluses and minuses that her new role presented to her single life style. With those bits of information, I was immediately overcome with a feeling of guilt as to my intentions for Anthony. I mean the kid had been through enough in his short life without me fulfilling my desire to fondle or embarrass him.

My feeling of guilt was quick to be dispelled when she sought my input on a few parenting things she didn’t know how to handle. To spank or not to spank, ah, that was a question. My advice was delivered in the most professional sounding rhetoric I could muster. I told her that because of her unique role in Anthony’s life it would be difficult for her to use corporal consequences for his behavior, but that a belt used judiciously was not out of the question for most boys. She had officially bought into the bullshit about how spanking caused kids to be aggressive. Of course, I used common sense to counter that argument citing the violence present in confrontations between kids of the “time-out” generation. At no time in recent history have there been so many violent interchanges as there seem to be today.

Then, bam! She swung a door wide opened. She asked if I felt he was into puberty yet. I told her that he could be but without a chance to examine him a bit, I couldn’t be certain. Making it clear I wasn’t a pediatrician, but I was astute enough, as she would be also, to determine that by a quick exam of his genital region. I did say, at eleven, it was highly doubtful that he was there yet.

One thing led to the next and she lamented that he was very body conscious and wouldn’t allow her any opportunity to see him naked. I heard about her “pulling teeth” to get him to wear “that Speedo”. He wanted more contemporary coverage of board shorts. Latching on to her obvious interest in exposing him as much as possible, I went off on a tangent about boys of today being much more self-conscious about nakedness than kids of my era. I mean, “We didn’t have shower stalls we had open showers. We didn’t wear shorts or bathing suits into the shower, we showered naked before all the other boys.” Today’s modesty mores are almost a perversion of sex.

After a pause in the discussion, I used the time to take in Anthony’s body. As I looked, without thinking, let out a free-flowing audible remark, “He’s a good-looking kid.” I was surprised that slipped out, but it did. Half expecting a questioning look from Carolyn, I was surprised when she simply replied, “Very.”

Carolyn picked up on the Speedo again. She explained that she loved looking at his masculine little body and she was bound and determined to keep him exposing as much of it as possible. She recounted his argument about the Speedo when she brought it home. “He flat out told me he wasn’t going to wear it. Then I told him, if he didn’t, we wouldn’t be spending the vacation time at the beach. Guess I won that one.”

I introduced a little more information about myself telling her that I loved photography. I especially loved candid photos of kids “doing what kids do”. I was even bold enough to ask her if she would be offended if I took some shots of Anthony over the up-and-coming two weeks. She had no problem with that. I could only dream about getting to the point that I could ask her if I could photograph the boy naked. A clear path to that kind of question was not laid yet.

The little tanned god ran toward his sister’s chair complaining of sand in his eye. She bent him over with his tight young ass almost in my face. I didn’t complain as I was able to appreciate the small rolls exposed at the base of that bottom and the accentuated dimples of each of those cheeks before he bent over. After exploring his eye for the particle with no luck, she gave up and asked if I would look.

More than happy to help relieve the kid of his discomfort, but more excited about being asked to touch his smooth tan skin was more than I could have expected. Sure, it was just his face, but I had open license to touch him. I spread his eyelid with my thumb and forefinger and used my water bottle to rinse his eye. He didn’t like the rinsing, but it worked. After he confirmed it was out, I took the natural liberty to affectionately pat him on the ass and send him on his way. Neither he nor his sister seemed to take note of my liberty at doing so.

I watched the boy dodging waves and continued my discussion with his sister. She returned to her questioning his body shyness. I mentioned, not quite truthfully, that boys back in my early days often skinny dipped and weren’t concerned with being seen naked. That was not really as true as it was for my father’s generation, but, hey, she couldn’t call my hand on the remark. What I hoped it would do would be plant the seed of an idea that would lead her to wanting it for Anthony. What I got was an agreement that Anthony used to be okay with being naked in front of others and she remembered his six and seven-year-old years as a time he ran through the sprinkler in the backyard and played in an above ground pool while fully exposed. He was perfectly at ease in those settings and didn’t care who else might visit and watch him.

She stared off to the ocean and paused momentarily. Her mouth took on a smile. It was almost as if that reminiscence brought back pleasant earlier years. Momentarily, she continued explaining that Anthony was somewhat gifted in the boyhood department. Going all the way back to his birth. Apparently, at eleven she was quite involved rearing her brother. She’d bathe, change and feed the boy to take some of the pressure off her mother. She kind of giggled mischievously while relating how she loved coaxing his “little peepee” to an erection while performing some of those early functions. Then as he got older she’d tease him about his penis flopping around while he ran and played in the backyard. But alas he was a preteen now and very shy about such things. She admitted to buying the Speedo because of the revelation it gave to all observers when wet. In fact, she admitted to looking for a white one hoping it’d take on a translucence when wet. Those revelations were quite reassuring to me.

I was a bit surprised by her candidness about such things, but I was also very relieved that my goal might be reachable. In a very amateurish way I made up some facts surrounding the whole overly modest kid problem, long term problems that could result from it and methods for correction. Most of my observations were common sense self-esteem issues and some made up sexual problems that might be on the horizon if he continued such shyness. I was winging it, but it sounded well-grounded in research. The bottom line was getting her to draw the conclusion that Anthony should be forced into nudity for his own good.

Actually, Carolyn was half way to where I wanted her to be. She seemed truly interested in making the boy present himself naked so she could enjoy the sight, and, if she chose to, touch of his naked body. She was mulling it over very obviously as a method to re-instill dominance over the boy. Her motives contributed to my continued arousal.

In my experience, I’d gone as far as I could during the conversation. To push it too much might curtail the idea and I’d be left with nothing. I needed to give her the room to continue to weigh the discussion until she was interested in what options might be available. What was important was that I felt we were both after the same outcome. Anthony forced into complete nudity, subservient to being touched, photographed, and exposed as publicly as possible. My member was stiff and, thankfully, my small backpack was situated on my lap and protected me from any embarrassment.

We ended the discussion that afternoon with me soliciting a date with Carolyn. I suggested that she and Anthony accompany me to dinner at a seafood restaurant down the road from our condos. She accepted.

I waited outside my ground floor condo out in the parking area for Carolyn and Anthony. After five minutes, I saw them coming down the stairs from the second floor. Both were dressed casually, but very cleanly. Anthony was in an untucked buttoned sport shirt, white knee length shorts and sandals. His face showed an excited anticipation to going out to eat. Carolyn followed in similar but more maturely chosen attire. His legs were captivating in the contrast between the deep tan of the exposed knees and calves and the bright white of the shorts themselves. “What a good looking kid!” came to mind.

During dinner, I decided to drag Anthony into his sister’s and my earlier conversation. I really wanted to watch him blush as we discussed boys being naked. I had to work into it. As I remember the conversation began with me asking how he liked the Speedo. Short story, he didn’t. “Carolyn picked it out and makes me wear it. She says it ‘evens out my tan’.” I immediately came to his sister’s defense telling him she was right.

While we waited for our order to be prepared, the kid continued to discuss his feelings about the amount of his exposure that suit provided. Too much for his liking. Still he never mentioned the veiled exposure of his penis and scrotum when it got wet. I wondered if he was even aware of it. I used the opportunity to discuss ideas of prior generations and how boys were made to swim naked in various places. I even made up stories about my boyhood years that suggested I was often made to romp naked. During the telling of those stories I found myself in a wish fulfillment situation. I wished my parents and authority figures would have forced me to be naked on many occasions, but, they didn’t. The very thought of such events was arousing to me.

The boy and his sister both laughed at the idea. Carolyn then brought up her brother’s bout with body shyness and I acted like it was news to me. He blushed and just said, “I’m not going to be naked!”

In a teasing way I responded with, “Try it you might like it!” The boy blushed again and reiterated his stand on the issue. “Well you don’t mind Carolyn seeing you naked, do you?”

With that Carolyn entered the conversation almost as if she could read my maneuvering. “Oh, he won’t let me see him naked. I don’t know why. I used to change him and bathe him. He used to run around nude when he was six or seven and it didn’t faze him to do it.”

More blushing and an eager but argumentative response, “Oh yeah, well I was little then. I didn’t think about people seeing my thing.”

Calmly I made a counter point, “You know in some cultures boys have no choice until they’re past puberty. Their parents make them be naked. And they don’t seem to be embarrassed. I think if someone makes you be naked, the embarrassment goes away. I think boys who are made to be naked have stronger self-esteem and are healthier in many ways than boys who are afraid to be naked. Again, I say, try it you might like it.”

Taking it as a comedic moment he smiled and just returned a reiteration of his original statement. He wasn’t going to be sold on it.

I told the boy a good starting point is to quit being so shy about being naked in front of his sister. He replied that she was never naked in front of him. I shot back that there were two reasons why not. First, she was an adult and he wasn’t. And, second, she was a girl and girls had different rules when it came to being naked. He was quick to respond to the second point by asking, “How come they don’t have to be naked?” His smile as he asked made me realize he was starting to look at the discussion as a game.

I used my grandmother’s explanation and replied that God must have made it that way. Boys’ parts were made to be on the outside and visible. Girl parts were more hidden suggesting that they were to remain private. It was the best I could come up with and that explanation trumped the blanket statement, “That’s just the way it is!”

The waiter brought the meals. We dined and discussed plans we had for the two weeks. We didn’t return to the nakedness discussion. I wasn’t going to rush it. As we finished the meals we again chatted while the waiter brought coffee for Carolyn and me and refilled the boy’s Coke. I paid the tab. When we rose from the table, I mentioned one last time that Anthony needed to think about being naked. That got a “Ya, right!” and raised eyebrows. Carolyn just had an I told you so smirk on her face.

On the ride home Anthony started giving his sister a hard time about bedtime. I listened to the arguing and mentioned doing that with my parents might end up with me at the business end of a belt. I went on that sometimes boys needed a painful response to misbehavior and defiance.

The kid was a mess. He told me that Carolyn was his sister not his mother. I responded that anyone with responsibility for raising a child had the authority to spank. I explained that even teachers could spank when I was growing up, and that wasn’t one of my “made-up” remarks. They did. I also directed a very serious comment toward Carolyn that it was perfectly acceptable for her to use such measures with Anthony.

He resented the advice I’d given his sister and was quick to insist it would take an army for him to succumb to letting her tan his hide with a belt. In just as juvenile way I argued she could ask someone else to help her get it done if necessary. Her response to him was that she could do whatever she felt necessary to him and that was the end of the argument.

The next morning, I showed up at the same spot we’d occupied the day before. My Nikon hung around my neck and I was eager to put it to work. Carolyn and Anthony hadn’t arrived yet. I settled in and watched the waves as they lazily broke on the beach. A few people walked past with their dogs. Made me wonder where the leavings of those dogs ended up. Some of the people noticeably had bags in hand, but not all. Every hundred feet or so there was some guy casting his line from the beach to the surf in an attempt to catch something. A few crabs quickly traversed the sand and disappeared into holes. The revelry of the scene came to an end as an excited eleven-year-old shouted his greeting to me.

Carolyn parked her lounge chair within chatting space and took her brother’s flip-flops from him. Just as he was about to head to the surf, I took the opportunity to reopen my desired conversation by inviting him to leave his Speedo as well and spend the day naked. He and his sister both took it as a comical tease. If they only knew. Anthony waded out to chest deep water.

Then came a real turning point. Carolyn out and out challenged me. If I could get him naked for an hour a day, she’d buy dinner those nights. I had to act as if the challenge was in jest but hoped it was not. My response was, “Yeah, yeah, like that’s going to happen. Pretty safe bet for you, isn’t it?”

She responded with a sincere reiteration of the deal. She was emphatic, “I want the kid naked right here on this beach, but I’d settle for the privacy of our condo as well. Really! You get him naked for at least one hour in either place and I’ll buy dinner.”

I one upped her. I was so confident that I said, “No make it three hours of nudity. Why settle for one?”

That was followed by a negotiation of the rules and conditions we both had to operate under. My conditions included my right to photograph the boy while he was nude, and the requirement that she follow some basic bonding activities while he was naked which included giving him a full body massage. She would also have to agree to requiring his continued nudity four hours a day from when they went home until the boy entered puberty. She agreed. I then required her to include my right to pursue any methods I needed to get the boy to strip including the use of a belt if necessary. Surprisingly, she agreed.

Then she added the final qualifier. For each day the boy didn’t spend at least three hours naked, I had to buy the dinner. That was agreeable only if the bet didn’t start until the following day. I explained I had work to do to get him to that point, but one day should be sufficient.

We shook on it and she smugly settled into her lounge chair. The realization was that she had pinned the whole process on me.

Just think about it. I, a complete stranger not twenty-four hours ago, was not only permitted to force the kid into nudity, but given permission to achieve that goal by whatever means I could.

Methodology crept into my thinking. So much so, Carolyn and I didn’t speak for at least a half hour as I pondered the challenge. I had to plot to convince an overly modest boy into stripping naked and spending time on this not so remote beach and/or in the condo pool. He’d be the only person, and I mean the only one, at either venue, who was nude. I would maintain using the belt if needed, but I much preferred a diplomatic solution. Wow, what a challenge I’d accepted.

I convinced Carolyn that I would need a limited amount of help from her to achieve the goal. My plan was to invite the two to my condo for drinks and snacks, but before they entered Carolyn was to order Anthony to remove his suit so I didn’t have to vacuum up his sand like she did at their place. She agreed to do that, but nothing more, telling me in no uncertain terms that it was my job to get it done.

As we gathered up our belongings that afternoon, Carolyn explained that he and she were going to my place for an afternoon snack. Anthony teased that, in his mind, it was going to be the start of a romantic relationship between his sister and me. We both pooh-poohed his remark. Carolyn gathered up her beach bag and I rose to guide them both to my unit. Anthony was hyper with the excitement of coming to my place. I had an anticipatory lump in my throat that prevented me from speaking without my voice cracking. My penis was pressing outward and upward with the expected excitement, I had to carry my bag so it hung in front of my crotch to avoid having my condition being discovered.

We got to the sliding door and as I slid it opened I just asked that they be sure their feet were wiped of sand. I explained I hated vacuuming and the sand posed a real problem. Though he looked relatively free of sand, Carolyn gave the order for Anthony to take his suit off before going in. His jaw dropped in disbelief and he then shifted to a joking remark, like he thought she was playing. Her reaction was firm, “No, no, Anthony I’m serious. Take off your suit right here, right now!” He blushed. I jumped in telling him that might be helpful as he had been body surfing and I was sure there was sand trapped inside the suit. He flat out defied the direction.

Carolyn, in frustration, held out her hand toward me as if to indicate, “See? see? I told you. The kid won’t get naked. Now, it’s up to you!”

I jumped in, “Look, Anthony, I’m a guy and you aren’t going to show me anything I haven’t seen every day of my life. She’s your sister and she has seen you naked lots of times. Do you need for me to get you a towel? Would that make it easier for you? You could cover up until you got into the condo.”

“I’m not going to take my suit off. Why can’t I just brush the sand off my legs and arms and come in? There isn’t any sand in my suit.”

“You need to take it off, because your sister told you to take it off.” I was a bit gruff with the retort. “If I argued with my parents like that, one of them would get a belt and help me change my mind. Do I need to show you what I mean?”

“You can’t whip me you aren’t my father.” He looked for support from his parental figure, his sister.

Carolyn shrugged her shoulders and surprised me, “Anthony, I’m getting tired of your insolence and I think I’m going to let him do whatever he wants with you. If you don’t pull off the bathing suit, I’m going to let him use his belt on you.”

Somewhere in the exchange we were having my eroticism had lost its edge and I became flaccid. I suppose it was the anger that was added to the erotic mix that tempered that potential problem.

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes. I could sense he knew he was defeated. I thought he’d bolt. He didn’t. He just stood there silently looking at both of us through angry tear filled eyes. I went inside and retrieved a bath towel and tossed it to him when I came back out. He caught it with one hand and just stood there tears now trickling down his cheeks.

His sister gently wrestled the towel free and wrapped it around the boy’s waist. “Now, just slide the suit off.” He stood there defiantly for what was seconds but felt like minutes. Then he put his thumbs inside the towel and wiggled the Speedo off. As he pulled the wet suit off his foot, the towel separated giving me a full view of his left thigh. I could feel my penis start to resume the erect condition and I had to mentally fight against it. Once he’d released the suit from both feet his sister picked it up off the slab and handed it to me. “Do you want me or him to brush off your bottom and stuff?”

He told his sister he’d do it himself and commenced to wiping the hidden body parts by rubbing the outside of the towel. When he’d finished, we went into my unit. Before the boy could sit down, I held out my hand and said I’d take the towel for him. He clenched it tighter. I repeated myself. He stood there glaring in disbelief.

Carolyn sat on the couch watching the whole ordeal. She was definitely excited that her brother’s body was about to be fully exposed to her. Even more so, I was too. I was definitely getting impatient with the boy and he knew it. “Give me the damned towel, Anthony!”

Cupping his jewels with his right hand, he reluctantly presented it to me with his left. I couldn’t help but stare at the cherry sized pink glans poking out above his coverage. The sight was so inviting I was overcome by the urge to reach over and pinch it. Carolyn just sat on the couch looking at her brother’s bare backside all the while trying to hide a smile that would signal me that I’d won round one. Okay, so all I had to do was kept this Greek-god of a boy naked for at least three hours and dinner was on her.

“Oh, put your hands down, Anthony. We’ve all seen little boys’ penises before. Relax! What do you want to drink? I’ve got Orange Crush, Coke, and Sprite or would you rather have iced tea?” Reciting the menu seemed to loosen the kid up. I think he felt my offering it indicated I really wasn’t into his penis as much as I was interested in his snack. “I said, put your hands down.”

He did reluctantly. As the full extent of his package came into view, I had to admit his sister’s description of his giftedness was quickly apparent. I was impressed and overcome by a massive hormonal flow pulsing through my body. This boy was beautiful. His penis was long, probably close to five inches in its erect state. It had begun the prepubertal growth spurt at least in girth. His plum sized ball purse was drawn up tightly. The kid was perfect. I fought the impulse to grab his rod and test its firmness. Instead I ordered him to, “Turn around and let your sister see your penis. It’ll make it easier for you to relax if she sees it.” I twisted my finger around to signal the requested move. He slowly did, tears still streaking his face. “Go on let her feel it if she wants.” He actually took the necessary steps toward her. Carolyn slowly reached forward to feel her brother’s hard appendage. She gave it a gentle stroke and told him he could sit down if he wanted to. At that point, I too was very erect and luckily was able to drape the towel I was holding down the front of my body.

Before I could prepare the drinks and snacks, I retreated to my bedroom to slip on a pair of tight briefs to try to hold my wood in place against my body. Truthfully, I wanted to masturbate but I was concerned about the suppositions my female guest might make about my absence. I hoped the tighter briefs would hide the tenting and I could avoid giving away my phallic state.

For the rest of the visit, it was hard not to stare at Anthony who exuded embarrassment and humiliation and never did lose his self-consciousness during the visit. At one point, I suggested to the boy that he should spread his legs wide so his penis could be seen and it’d help him get over his embarrassment when he was naked in front of us. “The more we see it, the more you’ll realize we don’t care about it.” (A complete lie.) He spread his legs a bit and asked if he could watch TV. I chatted with Carolyn and he turned on the television. We looked like a normal happy family—two young adults and a naked preadolescent boy just biding time.

Before our visit came to an end, I addressed his sister. “What Anthony needs is to be naked as much as possible in front of you and others. He needs to know he’s beautiful and there’s nothing wrong with his body that should prevent him from being naked. If I were you, I’d make him strip when you get him upstairs and make him stay that way. There are some bonding activities that might help with you gaining a little more authority over him. I’d recommend first you make him stay naked whenever you are home, but I’d also suggest you massage him from head to toe for an hour or so each evening, more often if you wish.” Anthony acted like he wasn’t listening, but he was. That last remark about massaging him caused a sudden look in my direction. “And, yes, you can rub his penis and scrotum during the massage. There’s no part of him you can’t touch.”

Instinctively, the boy cupped his penis and balls again. It was definitely a defensive reaction to what he’d overheard me telling his sister.

He asked if he could use my bathroom and I directed him from my position seated across from him. After he closed the bathroom door, Carolyn lowered her voice and goaded me. “Okay, so I have to buy dinner tonight, but remember it won’t be long before you have to get him outside naked. That’ll be payback, mister. Good luck with that.”

My response was to remind her that she had to rub his boy parts that night and every night. And, that I would be doing the same to him by the end of that week.

“Oh, I’ll play with him. I’m looking forward to fondling him. You rubbing his little stiffy is not the biggest test tough. You have to get him naked in public. Good luck with that!”

I was impressed she’d just given me the green light to fondle her brother’s package. I was really speechless thinking about it. The toilet flushed and a few seconds later the door of the bathroom opened. Carolyn and I abruptly had changed the topic to where were we going to eat rather than allow Anthony to know what was in store for him. It was apparent he was growing more comfortable with his nudity as he didn’t cover the still hard penis as he re-entered the room.

Carolyn suggested that she and Anthony should move along so they could get ready for our dinner outing. Before she left though I wanted to go over the whole program we’d laid out for Anthony, in his presence. “Okay, remember you need to massage him for an hour every day, more if you want to. You have enough time to do that before we go out. Remember, too, Anthony has to be naked anytime you’re home.” Then turning to face the bare boy I suggested, “Hey, I’ll bet you can’t go from here to your unit naked. In fact, I’ll bet you ten dollars you can’t.” I could see the instant pondering that brought on.

“Ten dollars! You’d give me ten dollars to go up to our house naked?” I could tell he still hadn’t summoned the courage to do that. I could also detect the calculations going on in his mind as he tried to weigh the pros and cons of such a decision. To complicate it, I pulled a ten from my wallet and waved it in front of him. “All you have to do is walk out of here naked and stay naked until you get up to your unit. But, you can’t cover your penis for any reason. It has to be showing at all times. Deal?” He glimpsed out the sliders toward the daylight.

“Okay, all I have to do is go from here to our place naked? Carolyn, you have the keys so you would have to open the door quick so I wouldn’t have to stay outside.”

My enticement continued as I kept waving the ten spot in front of him.

“I’ll try it, but you better give me the money if I do it.”

“Honey, I promise you, I’ll give you the ten bucks if you do it. Remember, though, you cover that penis even for a second or two and the deal’s off. Carolyn will tell me, if you do.” As insurance that he couldn’t back out I added, “Just leave your Speedo here, I’ll take care of it for you. You can come down and put it on tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, but what do I wear while I’m coming down tomorrow?”

“Nothing. If you can go up naked, you can come down naked. Let’s just say, I think you’ll find out a kid like you being naked is no big deal.” (Oh, yes it was. I was thoroughly enjoying it. And, apparently so was Carolyn.)

With that they left. He bounded toward the outside staircase, I’m sure hoping none of our neighbors were out and about. I followed the movement of that firm rounded backside all the way to the steps. Frankly, I half hoped no one would see him. I wanted him to be emboldened by a flawless streaking incident. It’d give the kid a false sense of security that I could build on with more difficult activities later.

As I retreated back to my unit, I grabbed his balled up wet bathing suit and carried it in to my kitchen. Opening the door to my trash compactor, I dropped it in. I was satisfied we’d gone further that afternoon than I could have ever projected. As far as the Speedo? He wouldn’t be needing it any more. I went to my bedroom to relieve the pressure that built up with what had just happened and ponder the direction forward for Anthony.

Carolyn and Anthony came to my door ready for our evening outing to a local restaurant. Carolyn was more than aware of losing the bet for that day. Anthony was dressed in the same clothing he had been the night before. I wanted him in much shorter shorts without the additional advantage of underwear. He needed a mesh knit shirt to add some exposure of his upper torso to other interested parties. Yeah, the kid was overdressed and that had to change.

“I thought, after dinner, we could stop at mini-mall in town so I could buy Anthony some new hot weather clothing.” I tried to be as direct for Carolyn as I could be without alarming the target of my project.

She toyed with me, “Oh, what he’s wearing doesn’t suit you?” There was that shit eating grin again.

“No, I just remember being a boy and how comfortable some clothing could be compared to…”

She interrupted, “Those shorts he’s got on are what’s in style. Right, Anthony?”

She could tell she was pissing me off by confounding my plan and countering my success from earlier that afternoon.

Anthony surprised both of us, “Yeah. These are what the kids at school wear, but I could always use more stuff.”

The shopping trip was on. After eating we went to an athletic store. I asked the clerk where I might find gym shorts or track shorts for Anthony. I did tell her, the shorter the better. We want him to have unrestricted movement. Let me just say, the girl didn’t disappoint. She pulled out some cotton shorts with no more than two inch inseams with vented outer seams. Then she showed us track shorts that were pretty much moisture wicking material with the same two inch inseams but they slanted upward as they hem went to the outer edges. They had a very shiny look. Anthony held up the cotton shorts and said, “These are too short.”

Carolyn and I both like the track shorts. She also knew the ordeal she’d gone through with the Speedo purchase. She liked leg, specifically Anthony’s legs. “Yeah but these will keep you cooler. The air can circulate and you can move more freely. I like these.” He threw the cotton shorts back on the shelf and gave a minor rant. I told the clerk we’d take three pair of the track shorts—shiny red and two white.

Next on the agenda was shirts. I purchased three white shirts with fishnet sized holes throughout. What was surprising is Anthony liked those. He felt they were “cool”. They looked cool in more ways than one.

Later that night after Anthony fell asleep I told Carolyn that I had to do some quick adjustments to his wardrobe before he awakened the next morning. I also made a rule clarification. If she didn’t let me do it my way, I’d automatically win the bet. She got that “oh, hell, no” look in her eye and smugly asked what I wanted to do.

I explained I wanted all of his underwear as he wouldn’t be wearing them anymore, I wanted all of the board shorts, cargo shorts and anything with an inseam longer than two inches, t-shirts, button shirts and anything other than the mesh shirts I’d bought him just hours earlier. I wanted all socks or foot covering other than sandals and flip-flops. Basically, his clothing was restricted only to what gave as much exposure as possible.

She didn’t argue. On the contrary, she wrung her hands and said, “I’m lovin’ this!”

Before I left their condo, I told Carolyn he had to come to my unit nude the following morning. “Just remind him of the pay off--$10. Tell him he has to be naked there’s no choice.” The following morning there was a thunderous banging on my sliding glass door. As I opened the blind there stood a naked eleven-year-old frantically trying to gain entrance. He had his hardened penis pressed tightly against the glass. I couldn’t help but laugh at the frantic facial expression the boy had. As I stood there teasing about leaving him out there, some little girl came down the walkway pulling an adult woman by the hand and excitedly shouting as she pointed at my naked little friend. I could read her lips, “See, Mom, I told you a naked kid. He’s right there.” The mother smirked as if to hold back a chuckle at seeing Anthony’s embarrassment. I waved to her. She returned the wave and went back to joining her daughter in watching the show.

Anthony became even more frantic, “Please, open the door. Let me in!”

The mother was now squatting down to laugh with her young daughter.

I hollered through the glass, “Turn around and let the little girl see your junk and I’ll let you in.” He started to cry. “Just turn around and let them see your penis and I’ll open the door, otherwise you can stay out there giving them all the time in the world to enjoy looking at your butt.”

He slid down the glass of the door. It was like he melted from his frustration. Finally, he turned and faced the two. I shouted further instructions through the glass, “Hands behind your back, Anthony!” Still crying with a mix of frustration and embarrassment he joined his hands behind his back and they draped across his bare bottom. The two females had a bird’s eye view of the eleven-year-old’s hardened penis. The little girl’s mother pointed at him and seemed to be giving her daughter an anatomy lesson. I didn’t care. All I cared about was I had begun breaking Anthony’s modesty by force and it was thrilling. Next hurdle, naked on the beach.

As the good-natured mother talked, I opened the door and told her they could both touch his penis and scrotum if she wanted to. Anthony immediately covered with his hands. I swiftly and firmly swatted his bare ass eliciting and momentary scream. I’d painted a pink hand print on his cheek. “Where are those hands supposed to be?” He returned them to interlocking at the top of his crack. “It’s okay, she can feel his boy parts, just bring her over.” They approached slowly.

It was truly cute watching the mother encourage her daughter to feel Anthony’s penis. The kid was reluctant but finally got to the point she encircled it with her hand. Then she was coached by her mother to “feel his little bag” and the child again approached slowly, but deliberately. She rotated her fingers around his scrotum. Finally, her mother curtailed the lesson. “Okay, Amy, we need to go. Daddy’s waiting for us out at the beach.” Then to me and Anthony, “Thank you for letting her feel him she doesn’t have any brothers. I’m sure she learned a lot.”

We got into the house and Anthony immediately demanded his Speedo.

“Oh, about the Speedo, it was pretty dirty. I don’t think we could have gotten it clean, so I threw it out.”

He screamed violently, “You what???”

“I threw it away. You don’t need it.”

“What am I going to wear to the beach?”

“Nothing! I mean you’re doing so well being naked, I thought you’d be fine naked out there too.” He thought I was kidding and asked where I’d hidden it. He lifted the couch cushions, opened drawers and cabinet doors. No Speedo. He was getting frustrated and bellowed, “Where is it?”

In an effort to change the subject I returned, “Where’s your sister?”

“Does Carolyn have it?” I guess he thought I was dropping a hint rather than sincerely asking where his sister was.

“NO! I really threw it out! I’m not kidding you, I threw the damned thing out.”

The boy began to tear up. He looked so cute in his defeated pose—chin on his chest, tears rolling down, that beautiful flaccid penis draped over his compact ball sack. I felt the desire to cuddle him for reassurance so I squatted down in front of him and placed my hands on his hips. I tried to make eye contact, but that was near impossible. He continued to pout and I tried to reason that he had nothing to be ashamed of. No verbal response. I reassured him his boy parts were above average and that he shouldn’t be shy about them being seen by anyone. Still no response.

Frustrated at not being able to curb his embarrassment, I gave a medium pat to his right bare butt cheek and suggested we go find his sister. I ushered him toward my front door. He put the brakes on and wouldn’t budge to go out after I opened the door. My frustration quick turned to a mix of horniness and anger and I slapped his ass with my opened hand. He remained adamant. I slapped it again and with raised voice said, “Let’s go! We’ve got to find Carolyn. Move your ass.” He still didn’t budge. I picked him up and threw him over my shoulder. I could feel the penis and scrotum pressing against my skin. It helped temper my anger a bit, but I was still pissed. He began thrashing around in rebellion. I swatted his ass again and tried to reassure him, “See how easy it is? We’re outside, you’re naked what’s not to like?”

I could feel his penis force a path between his mid-section and my shoulder as it hardened. As we approached the beach, I removed him and placed him on the sidewalk. About then some lady from 107 came out of her unit, closed the door, and glanced our way. Almost as a retake she noticed my naked charge and exchanged a greeting. “Brave boy!”

“Oh, he doesn’t want to be naked, but I told him nobody who’d see him hasn’t seen a naked boy before.”

Surprisingly, she walked our way, bent over to attempt eye contact, and tried to convince Anthony he shouldn’t be embarrassed. She told him to be proud of his body. Then gently pried his genital clutching hands to the side and was greeted by his sizable erect penis. I must admit her eyes showed a bit of shock at what I assume was her surprise at his length more than his erect state. That led her to reach inside her oversized handbag and retrieve her cellphone.

“Mind?”

What could I say? It was a question that made me hornier. “No, have at it. Take all you want. I’m proud of his body even if he isn’t.” Looking down I ordered the boy to put his hands behind his back, so she could get clear frontal shots to share with who knows who. He refused and that was my limit. I plastered his bare ass with five or six hard swats, she took photos of me doing it, his hands naturally came back to protect his ass and the woman just laughed.

As she finished up taking photos of the now more compliant boy, Carolyn arrived. She was immediately astounded that once again she was buying dinner. Her approach signaled the end of the photo session. She mumbled as if to hide the content of the remark, “I don’t believe you succeeded.” I just gloated.

“Okay, Anthony let’s go down to the beach.” I turned him, took his hand as if he was a five-year-old, and directed him through the building toward the shoreline. As we walked Carolyn kept mumbling remarks. I just followed with a teasing, “What will I have for supper? Let me see, lobster, maybe? Oh, I hope it says ‘market price’ on the menu.”

As we cleared the building, Anthony spoke his first words. “Can I have my towel?”

I told him no. I reasoned that the people were going to see him naked sooner or later and I felt it would be better if it was sooner. Carolyn joined in telling him that after an hour or so, he’d get used to being stared at and his nakedness would be nothing.

I can’t even begin to tell you how arousing it was for me to send the kid still clutching his long boner out onto the well populated beach. He was so erect and panicked looking. He started begging us for the towel. When that didn’t work he feigned sick and said he needed to return to the condo. Again, he was met with our determined decision he’d be naked on the beach.

To say the boy didn’t draw a lot of attention from the very moment we claimed our small parcel of beach real estate, would be very inaccurate. But, I must say, all but the other kids acted disinterested—casting glances our way and quickly diverting it back to the ocean so as not to look like they were staring. The other kids, were glued to the “naked boy” and many became frustrated trying to get their parents to look our way again. It was almost as if the kids felt the parents were unaware of the situation. The false disinterested parental response was no doubt an attempt at redirecting their children’s attention and downplaying the attention to Anthony’s nude presence.

In the weeks that have transpired since our beach experience, Carolyn has kept in touch with me. In fact, I’ve been to their home on a few occasions. On each of them Anthony has been forced to strip for the bulk of my visit. And, I have been able to assess his development both through sight and feeling his critical areas. I have been somewhat reassured by his willingness to undergo such evaluations and Carolyn’s reports of his behavior when she forces nudity before strangers, he’s losing most of his shyness during such presentations.

(End of File)