Five Boys Remember the Way It Was 4

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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Five Boys Remember The Way It Was
A coauthored story by Runningbare and EBB

Chapter Four: Pissing Off the Prudes—Brad Remembers
By, Running Bare

I just read Cody’s memories. Before I start on what I remember about me, I want to just say Cody was so shy about getting naked he almost always had a boner. And, usually his boner was stiff the whole day. It was funny. I mean his hairless hard-on made his dick as long as most grown up men. It just wasn’t as thick back then. He blushed so much when he had to be naked and his mom, my mom or Jeff made him stay nude and everyone else got to wear clothes. I think they did it to him because of his complaining, humiliation and embarrassment, and his mother’s pride at how well her son was hung.

By now you got the idea that, as a kid, I was not at all averse to being nude in public. I liked to show off my penis and balls, and did really enjoy flashing my hole at people, especially when they were all taken aback by the sight of a naked ten or twelve year old boy. I used to wiggle my penis in front of them at close range just to watch them fake being appalled. I’d bet, if you asked them privately, ninety percent of the complainers would tell you they thought our naked forms were “cute” and they only complained because that was the “socially correct” response, and the other ten percent would be liars. Why would naked prepubescent boys running freely bother anyone?

The only thing I really enjoyed better than entertaining the pseudo-prudes was watching my shy “brother”, Cody’s, embarrassment having to be naked in public places when no one else had to. Now, his response was real. He was so shy and sometimes he’d cry when he had to do it. It was great when people asked and got permission from whoever was in charge to feel his package or make him pose for pictures.

He was right about seeing pictures of us on line. Many of the photo sites with low censorship have profiled us. I think he still gets embarrassed when one or another photos show up on line. I just wish I could do it all over again. It was fun and running around naked made me feel really free especially when everyone else had clothes on. I think I felt privileged to be allowed to be naked.

One of my favorite photos, one of very few in full color, was taken by Mrs. Kirkland at a cookout when we were eleven or twelve. My mom, Amy, Cody and the entire Wildbach clan were there. Anyway, as usual all of us boys were made to attend totally nude. And, we were expected to put ourselves at the mercy of the girls. Well, Cody was sporting his usual six inch boner. His penis was starting that pubescent growth spurt and his wiener was thickening, but still no hair. Veronica, the eldest Kirkland girl, got an idea that we should put Cody’s hotdog in a bun and I was to act like I was going to eat it. Everyone laughed at the idea. Emily grabbed a bun, and Cody’s mom, Amy, made him let them go through with the plan. Anyway, Emily pressed his stiffy inside the hotdog bun and Veronica actually put mustard and pickle relish on top of it. I remember looking at the eye of his penis head as I was made to open my mouth and act like I was about to take a bite. Cody was scared I would actually bite it and he whined to stop. But, there is a photo out there, somewhere, of his bunned up penis and me about to take it into my mouth. After the photo session I told him, I wouldn’t have bitten it without sauerkraut on it. The Wildbachs thought that was whimsical. I think it was the mention of sauerkraut.

That said, I do remember the first time Jeff made me suck Cody’s dick. Jeff had smeared peanut butter all over his wiener and balls and I was told to suck it off. Frankly, I was afraid he’d pee in my mouth and tried to get out of doing it. Jeff hit me with the belt a few times on my bare ass and I caved. I put his hard-on in my mouth and could feel the head of it actually pushing against my tonsils. My tongue automatically went to work licking all the peanut butter off and swallowing it. During that little fiasco, Cody was scared, too. I think he thought I’d bite it. I didn’t of course. A time or two he mysteriously clenched his ass and pulled my head tight against his groin as he groaned a bit in pleasure. Never knew what caused that, but after the first time, I kind of enjoyed it when it happened. The oral stuff got easier and easier as our mutual trust grew. He never bit mine, nor did I ever (though I thought about it) pee in his mouth.

I remember in fourth grade our teacher planned a portrayal of the Pilgrims and the Indians for Thanksgiving. She picked Willy, me, and two other boys to be Indians. To this day, I think it was because she knew our parents wouldn’t hesitate to make us dress as nearly nude as they could. Mom and Mrs. Wildbach both were more than happy to oblige the teacher. The only thing either of us wore that day that shielded the viewer from our items of interest was a loose beaded, for lack of better terms, cod piece. Our penises and balls were plainly visible beneath the bead strands and the more we moved the more visible they became as the strands of beads making up the front piece would separate to either side of our boyhoods. In all fairness the string holding them up in front of our equipment also held a small beaded piece in the back too. It just ran the length and width of our cracks though. If we sat or put ourselves in certain positions our holes were clearly on display. As uninhibited as I was, that situation made me a little uneasy until the audience laughed when we were introduced to the scene on stage. As much as I liked when people gasped in disapproval of my nakedness, the laughter that night did much to put me more at ease. Even so my dick was hard and stuck out prominently, but the teacher and Mom did nothing to stop it from being displayed to the auditorium full of parents and siblings of my classmates. Willy was definitely excited at the idea, and, like me, he did it without complaining. Two other boys who played the Indian parts wore loin clothes fashioned by their mothers. They were like tan colored towels that ran between their legs and fairly well covered front and back. Nothin’ to see there except some exposed thighs. Later we became informed that the two others were probably more historically accurate as the Eastern tribes weren’t into turquoise beads. We might have been even more accurate portraying little Native Americans in the nude than wearing those beads as evidence has been presented that those kids rarely wore anything as they grew up. I’m sure our teacher would have loved that and so would the audience. Of course, in that case, Willy would have been even closer to historically accurate. He wasn’t cut.

Another semi-inaccuracy was Miss Reynolds’, one of the other fourth grade teachers, suggestion we have our faces a bodies painted. She insisted that the painters were always squaws of the tribe. So, each of us boys was assigned to a team of four girls who were to do the honors. Mary Katherine O’Connor from my class was the first to implore Miss Reynolds to allow them to strip us nude to “make it easier to paint”us. Not surprisingly, she thought Mary Katherine’s idea was a good one. Of course we boys weren’t in the room when that was decided. We were ushered into the room and assigned to a team of budding makeup artists. Almost immediately the girls were told to “strip your boy”. I remember my team went immediately to the belt holding up my school uniform shorts. It was undone in a flash and Susan Wright had my shorts and tighty whities around my ankles in one fell swoop. As my penis rose to the situation, I glanced over at Willy who was giggling at me. Carl Johnson, one of the loin cloth boys was crying and empathetically shouting “no” while holding his shorts up with a death grip his team couldn’t overcome. Sammy Tindle just ran out of the room crying and still fully clothed. Miss Reynolds went after him. When she walked him back into the classroom, she tried reasoning with him to minimize his embarrassment at letting our female classmates strip him.

“Look, Willy and Brad aren’t upset about the girls seeing them naked.”

Both he and Carl whined that they wanted their mothers. They refused to let the girls render them nude. Miss Reynolds then picked up my shorts and slid my belt from the loops. I could tell her patience with the two of them was running out. Her reasoning tone switched rapidly to a more demanding one. She used my belt to whip the fire out of Carl’s bare legs. He cried and allowed the girls to pull his shorts down and off. Next the giggling girls yanked down his underwear and his whimper went to a full bawl. The girls took turns playing with Carl’s hard penis, until Miss Reynolds got Sammy similarly oriented. Both of those guys were circumcised like me. That, of course, brought a lot of attention to Willy’s boy member and a lot of questions from the girls which Miss Reynolds answered straightforwardly.

We were told to lie on our backs spread eagle and allow the girls total freedom to decorate their “canvases”. Inevitably, Mary Katherine asked and was given permission for them to decorate our “wieners and little bags” too. While Miss Reynolds mixed cups of paint, the girls were busied stroking and playing with our hardened members. Carl and Sammy continued to cry, but Willy and I were kind of liking it.

Now I don’t know how many of you remember or even know about tempra paint. It was water based and when painted on skin it shrank and became stiff and cracked as it dried. But that was the fourth grade tool of choice when crayons weren’t practical. It certainly was uncomfortable on the penis but more so as the heavy blue coat dried out my painted scrotum. Now that I remember it, it gives a whole ‘nother meaning to blue balls, doesn’t it?

Willy and I were amused with the girls’ attention to our boy parts. Sammy and Carl not so much. As I look back at it, I’d have loved to watch Cody’s reaction. You probably can imagine how that would have gone over.

Our amusement was short lived as Miss Reynolds made us hike our legs up and support them by holding behind our knees. She told the girls to “use your white paint and make sure there aren’t any poop stains showing around their holes”. Well that brought on some female laughter as I felt the paint being applied to the hole and surrounding surfaces. Then came the order that sobered even my giggling, “Girls, be sure to shove the brush into their holes a little way to make sure everything is thoroughly covered”. All I remember is the feel of the metal collar that attached the bristles to the half inch thick brush handle scratching as it was forcefully inserted. The irritation was enough for me to complain, “Ow, ow,ow stop!”. But to no avail, each of the four girls had to take a turn and laugh as I begged them not to.

I’m sure the real Native Americans didn’t go to those extremes. In fact, as I said earlier, I doubt they spent a whole lot of time decorating themselves for the first Thanksgiving gathering.

Speaking of people of color, when I was twelve, Mom left me in the care of the mother of one of Veronica’s friends for a weekend. Mrs. Peebles, her daughter Tonya, and eight year old son Derek were African American. I remember being driven into what at the time was referred to as the ghetto. In the eighties the whole desegregation thing was still slowly evolving and the Peebles lived in a very black area of town. I remember being a little unsettled as the environment was by nature awkward for a white boy. So here was this almost pubescent white boy, wearing shorts that came up to his bare ass, a T-shirt and Nikes being presented to a black family for the weekend. To this day I’m not sure how all that came down. I do know Jeff was off on some kind of road trip with his friends and that Amy and Cody were visiting his grandmother. Guess Mom had to be somewhere else.

Despite the awkward stares we got from stunned neighbors. Mom and I got out of the car and walked to the door. People engaged in conversation, kids riding bikes and playing together, teens gathered in their huddles all stopped and cast their attention to the bare legged white boy and his mother as we walked toward the front door. Hell yeah I was self-conscious. Despite that unease, we were warmly greeted at the Peebles house.

Mrs. Peebles directed us to the couch in her living room. Tonya also seated herself in a chair opposite us and smiled without saying a word. Mom broke the silence. “So, Tonya, you know Veronica?”

“Yes, Ma’am, she is in my class. I met her this year when they sent me to Madison High.” This was a time of a great deal of change as bussing children to achieve racial balance had just been getting underway. I’m sure all those kids were a bit disoriented as blacks were bussed to predominantly white schools and white to black.

As the discussion transpired Mrs. Peebles delivered a tray of cookies, coffee, and lemonade to us. I was starting to feel more at ease and found my knees beginning to relax the tight bond they had to each other to ensure my “boys” weren’t on display. Mrs. Peebles thanked Mom for allowing her to care for me in her home rather than ours and reassured her that the babysitting fee would help her already tight family budget. Mom countered with her gratefulness for allowing me the opportunity to have a more diverse cultural experience.

Mom handed me the paper bag containing a change of shorts, T-shirt and toothbrush. Oh and she also pulled out the sunscreen with the caution, “If he’s going to be out in the sun for any length of time he’ll need this lotion applied. His legs don’t need it, nor do his arms, but his face and if necessary his torso, will need it.”

“His torso?” WTF does that mean?

Mrs. Peebles took the lotion from Mom and handed me the bag. She asked Tonya to show me to where I’d be sleeping the next two nights, and, as we left, continued to talk to Mom. Tonya almost skipped to the small bedroom which would be mine. We put the bag down and I remember Tonya inquiring, “Do white boys always wear such short shorts?” As the fashion trend at the time had been shifting from athletic length shorts on boys my age to more knee length attire, I could only say that a lot of us were still required to expose as much leg as possible by our parents. Apparently, black kids were ahead of the trend. In fact, as I recall, few of the neighborhood kids my age ever wore shorts at all. They were pretty much all wearing long pants.

I sat on the bed and bounced a time or two as if to check the stiffness of the mattress. Coyly, Tonya reached out and lightly rubbed my upper leg. It was as if she just wondered what my skin felt like. I found her intrusion a bit uncomfortable, but didn’t brush her hand off or complain. She continued to stroke my leg from the hem of my shorts to my knee and smile. Over my mental objection, my penis hardened as she did that. I kind of chuckled thinking, if it was Cody sitting here the head of that penis would have popped right out of one of the legs of his shorts. Mine just tented the crotch of the attire. I was uncomfortable with the situation and immediately stood up and tried to change the topic. My dick pressed the cotton material out three or four inches and until I could return to a less “inflated” stage, I was challenged to keep Tonya’s gaze well above my waist. “Let’s go see what our mothers are doing.” I could only hope I would calm back down during the walk to the living room. That didn’t happen. Mrs. Peebles tried to look like she didn’t notice, but it was clear she noted my excitement. For some reason Mom hadn’t shown any sign that she had.

“Louisa, if he steps out of line in any way, I want to you to feel free to take a belt to his bare backside.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem, he’ll be fine. Won’t you Brad?”

I nodded my agreement.

Glancing toward my crotch which was now shrinking she said, “Looks to me like the kids and I will be enjoying his company this weekend. They can introduce him to some of their friends. He’ll be just fine.”

Then my mother told her she had packed a thong for swimming if for any reason Mrs. P had a problem making me swim nude. “I mean if you feel he needs to have some covering, like at a public pool or something. I know his backside is fully exposed and his ball sack shows on both sides, and sometimes his penis pokes out one side or another, but he’s so cute when he wears it. Really it’s up to you. You can make him swim naked wherever, but, if you are uncomfortable with that, he can wear his thong. Around the house and neighborhood you can keep him naked all the time, or there are a couple more pairs of those athletic shorts in the bag. What he wears or doesn’t is up to you.”

It was evident that bit of information was well received by Tonya and her younger brother. Both smiled deviously. Tonya even offered, “I’ve never seen a white boy’s boy things.”

Her mother nervously responded, “And, you may not. They’re no different than your brother’s except for the color”.

Then the little snot had to push it further, “You mean they’re all white and pink and stuff?”

“Tonya, that’s enough. Why don’t you and Derek take Brad outside and play while I finish up with his mother?” As we started outside she ordered, “Derek take off your shirt and go put some shorts on so Brad is more comfortable.” He stripped off his shirt and pulled his jeans off right there in front of all of us. His tighty whities stood out in great contrast to his well-developed, mahogany colored legs and upper torso as he ran up the stairs to retrieve his shorts.

“Brad doesn’t wear underwear. Just those shorts.” Mom instructed. “Brad pull up the leg of your shorts and show them.”

Reluctantly, I lifted the hem of the shorts to expose my penis and testicles. Tonya was mesmerized and her mother was nonchalant in her visual glance. It was like she was thinking “Nothin’ new there”, but I could detect a hint of curiosity in her eyes. I lowered the hem and covered my now re-erected part.

Mom pushed the envelope. “Well, he’s naked a lot. That makes laundry a moot point, but before he puts the shorts on, I usually clean his backside. If you soap up a finger and shove it all the way in his little rose bud a few times, and clean the outside of that area after he goes number two, the skid marks aren’t a problem.”

“You want me to push my finger into his anus?”

“Well, it keeps things clean. You can let the kids do it if you want. But, yes, if you don’t want skid marks that’s what it takes.”

“No problem Mom. I’ll do it.” Tonya interrupted. “Does it hurt?”

Mom offered, “No it doesn’t hurt, does it Brad?”

I sulked a bit at the thought of Tonya having access to my glory hole, but nodded and mumbled, “Not every time, but sometimes.”

About that time Derek came back down stairs in a pair of shorts, very similar to mine. Tonya couldn’t help herself. “Hey, Derek, I got to see his wiener. It’s kinda like yours only his sack is dark pink but it’s wrinkled like yours. His peter has a pink tip.”

“Young lady that’s enough. You three go outside.”

“I wanna see it…” Derek whined.

Mom had to push the envelope. “Brad, take off your shorts and go outside with Tonya and Derek.”

I hesitated. “I don’t wan…”

“I said take them off, NOW!”

What could I do? I pulled them down and stepped out exposing my hard appendage and ‘wrinkled pink sack’.

“Now, go outside with them. You children can touch whatever you’d like.” Mom was generous. Then she quelled Mrs. Peebles before she could speak. “Kids are naturally curious. Feeling his body might help them put some questions aside. Besides, they will learn that color aside, we’re all the same.”

Mrs. P was skeptical. “Maybe you kids should go out to the backyard.” It was evident she was somewhat mixed in her feelings about exposing a naked boy to her neighbors. As her excited offspring guided me to the backdoor, she warned, “Don’t hurt each other.”

With that, Mom took her leave.

As it turned out Mrs. Peebles was more “show” in her hesitancy to my nudity. When we came back in, she purposely hung a belt on the kitchen towel rack. “Tonya, you and Derek go up and change. Brad, you will be staying naked until further notice. A cute little white boy running around nude will bring some life to the neighborhood.”

Obviously, I didn’t share her zest for “neighborhood life”.

“Why do they get to wear...” I was stopped mid-sentence by her holding her index finger up as if to silence me.

“Because I like seeing your little penis and so will everyone else. You will do as you’re told. If not...” she pointed at the belt. “Now, when Tonya and Derek come down you can watch TV.”

While I was there, there was a constant parade of people, both kids and adults, dropping by to examine the “little white boy”. And, by examine, I mean examine. My penis should have been chaffed by the amount of pulling and rubbing I had to endure. I must admit it was mostly from the curiosity of other kids—both boys and girls. But, there was more careful examination by adults too. After that first day, I was made to play out front where everyone, including passing motorists, could gaze and play. I do remember the total humiliation of Mrs. Peebles beating my naked ass with the belt right out on the front yard in front of whoever enjoyed the show.

She had handed me five dollars and told me to walk to the corner store and pick up a loaf of bread. I was a bit self-conscious about the neighborhood. I mean from what I picked up by the name calling I’d endured to that point, imagine what would happen on my two block walk to the store. But even more worrisome I’d be doing the task nude. No, I didn’t want any part of that. I argued with her and it was almost like she’d hoped I would. Without argument or warning she went in the house and emerged with the belt. She made me bend over a chair on the porch and started swinging. After six or seven stripes were planted on my bare ass, I jumped up and began to retreat. I got to the middle of the small patch of grass that made up the front yard. Mrs. Peebles grabbed my arm in her left hand and kept swinging the belt with the right. Tears were running down my cheeks, snot was running out my nose, I was crying and wiggling as she continued to wear me out. I twisted so much that the belt contacted my penis, balls, and the front of my legs many times as well. When she finished, I was totally hot and stinging and fell to the ground crying. I could hear the faint sound of clapping, cheers and laughter from the audience that had gathered across the street. But, I was too hurting to care. I don’t know if I’d call it a win, but she picked up the five dollar bill and handed it to Derek with the order to go and get the bread. One thing for sure, I’d learned not to question her orders from then on.

Despite my insistence on bathing myself, Tonya and Derek were tasked to do it. Both had an extreme interest in my package and continually lathered my ball sack and stiff penis by hand. Derek loved squeezing the glans and making my peehole open and close. Tonya spent most of her “cleaning” time rolling my balls around by pressing on my scrotum. I was made to endure it from both. After fifteen minutes of attention to my genitals, Mrs. Peebles came in to instruct them in making sure my “poop chute” was properly cleaned. Without hesitation she turned me around and forced me to bend at the waist. She spread my legs and commenced inserting her soaped up index finger into my anus. I didn’t know if I could stop myself from farting, much less shitting during the intrusion. I had lost control of my sphincter while she rummaged around inside me with that finger. After removing her finger, she invited her offspring to do the same. Let’s just say, neither kid hesitated taking a turn. This was humiliating even for me. I didn’t like it.

As comfortable as I was at being naked in front of others, there were some limits. I didn’t like the long walks Mrs. Peebles took me on. We’d be walking down the street as a “family”--Derek in his shorts, sometimes shirtless, fully dressed Tonya and mother, and totally nude me. You do become somewhat self-conscious being the only naked kid on a street composed almost completely of people of a different race. I guess, to this day, it helped me empathize with the embarrassment and confusion blacks had to endure at being forced into publicly humiliating situations. It brings to mind historic photos I’ve seen of naked black boys being bathed by white girls in some farm field. You know there was more going on to them than just hygiene.

I’d also say that Mrs. Peebles was an expert at wielding a belt. On at least four occasions during that stay, she found opportunities to whip the fire out of my bare ass. I’m also able to report she did the same to her son Derek on one occasion while I was staying with them. I know because I watched her do it. That was the only time Derek had to join me in the totally naked club. After he was undressed, she cut loose with lash after lash on his bare ass. And, like me, he did swivel once or twice and was whipped on his dick and ball sack. His sister enjoyed watching our beatings, and, I’m not so sure, Mrs. Pebbles didn’t enjoy doing it. At least in my case, she seemed to look for reasons to use the belt. Perhaps it was the more visibly prominent markings such activities left on my white ass encouraged her, I don’t know. I do know Derek felt the same pain and his ass did show marks after his whipping, but his dark skin color toned them down. He also had to spend the rest of the day nude even out in the yard. Ah, misery loves company.

All this remembering the whippings I had couldn’t help but remind me of the most painful experience I could remember about those days. I was eleven and in the fifth grade. I still loved the feeling of being naked in front of others and my classmates were well aware of it. My teacher divided the class into groups of six and we had to come up with Christmas decoration ideas. In theory it would have been a “fun” project.

I was in a group of four girls and two boys, me being one of the boys. The teacher had put Ruth Kilgore in charge of our team and we were to secretly develop our project in the cloak room in back of the classroom. Other teams were dismissed to the hallway, a conference room two doors down the hall, and a cordoned off area in a corner of the classroom.

Let me remind you that I was quite ready and willing to show off my naked body and everyone knew it. I loved the feeling of the boner I naturally developed, the curious touching of other kids and adults that usually accompanied my nudity, and, most especially, the appalled look of the adult prudes upon stumbling on the sight.

So, there we were brainstorming what our project would be. Tommy Radcliff, the other boy, kept his usual quiet demeanor. Ruth who was the boss was also known for her bossy nature even when she wasn’t in-charge. The other three girls were what you might call “brainiacks” who were kind of prissy—Caroline not so much. Anyway, I think it was Caroline who suggested we make a moving Christmas tree and we could hang ornaments off it and it could walk around the room singing carols. Being a nine year old I objected to making us sing, but as usual I was voted out. Then it started, Ruth abruptly ordered, “Brad stand up!” I did. She said, “You can be the tree!” She approached and lifted my arms to the sides. Then she grabbed my belt and undid it and yanked both my shorts, which I might remind you my mother insisted I wear year round even in the snow, and underwear to the floor. Even though I was used to being a public spectacle, I objected and reached to retrieve my cover. Ruth slapped my bare ass and ordered me to stand still. Then she told Marilyn Heckler to “strip him all the way naked”.

Marilyn, still staring and my penis and scrotum, hesitated and said, “What if we get caught? What if Mrs. Borders comes in here and sees him?” I must admit I hadn’t really been naked at school since the Thanksgiving pageant the year before and I wasn’t sure how Mrs. Borders would feel about the situation and I again tried to retrieve my shorts and underwear. Ruth tugged them both down again.

“I’ll go ask her.”

I remember thinking, “What the hell? How do you ask about stripping your classmate naked? I mean that really takes guts or a complete lack of common sense. You’re going to just walk up and say, ‘Mrs. Borders is it okay if Brad is naked?”

As I was trying to figure out how she would broach such a subject, she left the cloak room. When she returned Mrs. Borders was in tow. “See he doesn’t mind. We are going to make him into a tree and his wiener can be like a branch and we can paint his bag there either like a nut or pinecone. Then the teacher said, “I guess it would be all right. Last year didn’t you and Willy dance naked at the Thanksgiving celebration? I do know your mother would be okay with it.” I was embarrassed, believe it or not. Then she reached down and squeezed my boner and said, “It certainly feels like a branch.” Then poor Tommy almost shit, “Maybe I can call Tommy’s mother and she’d let him do it too.” He started to cry and beg her not to. She just smiled and said, “Relax, Tommy, I was just kidding. Go ahead and use Brad for this. There are paints, colored paper, yarn, tape, glue and staplers over in that cupboard there.” She chuckled, shook her head and went off to check on the other groups. Marilyn finished stripping me.

At that point, I was settling down about my situation. I distinctly remember Tommy grabbing my dick and feeling it too. He certainly was at ease after being reassured it wouldn’t happen to him. Ruth sent the other girls to gather the supplies. They painted my body green. I was okay with that and even made jokes. Ruth taunted me by pushing the handle of the brush firmly into my hole as she painted my ass. She chuckled and called everyone’s attention to it, “Hey, watch this!” Of course they all did and giggled. I then objected to being impaled and she moved on.

Once I was painted they began the decorating. Tommy was assigned to my balls and hard penis. He actually smiled and eagerly positioned himself. “I think I’ll make his ball sack a pinecone.” He began his paint job. I know he was amused having to hold my dick out of the way as he worked. Each of the girls glimpsed at my crotch as he worked.

Caroline offered him a suggestion as she squeezed my glans, “You could make this knob an acorn. You know this could be the cap.” She addressed the rest of the group, “I love seeing boys naked. Their boy things are so interesting.” They all agreed. “Tommy is yours as long as Brad’s?” He just blushed and continued his masterpiece—my ball sack. “We’d love to see yours too.” You could see him tense at the suggestion.

“Yeah, well, you won’t.”

They made branches out of construction paper and glued them on my chest, back and legs. Tommy glued extensions to my penis. The dummies covered up the “acorn” when they did that. I just stood there with my arms out to the side as the glue dried. Everything went fine until they started hanging the cutout ornaments. As they tried to hang them off the penis extension, it fell off. Apparently an eleven year old’s penis surface is insufficient to support the weight of construction paper extensions and ornaments too.

You remember when I told you I liked being exposed and handled? Well, Ruth, in her zest to help Tommy enhance that particular branch, ran over with the stapler. She opened that sucker up, pressed one of the extensions against the side of my erect penis and pushed a staple in to hold it. I was immediately rendered helpless as I screamed in pain, “Pull it out! Pull it out!” The pain was so bad tears were coming down my cheeks as Mrs. Borders rushed to the scene. Using her finger nails she pried the staple out of my penis. I was relieved and just stood there semi-crying.

“What were you thinking, Ruth?”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Borders. We need to make it a longer branch and the glue wouldn’t hold.”

Mrs. Borders took my penis in hand and examined it. “I think you’ll be alright, Brad.” Then she addressed the rest of the team. “No more stapling things to someone’s body. Understand?”

They all nodded. Ruth was humbled having been chewed out. The pain subsided a few minutes later.

Our group had to display their project first. I was walked out to the classroom in all my bare glory to the tune of “Oh, Tannenbaum”. The branches my classmates had glued on to my torso bounced around—up and down and side to side. My peter also bounced with the paper ornament hanging off the end of it rocked back and forth. The other kids laughed and cheered. Ruth then approached and guided me to the corner. After we arrived at my assigned station she grabbed Mrs. Border’s yardstick. “Of course every tree has to have a stiff trunk. Bend over Brad!” Naive me, I just complied clueless until I felt the tip of that yardstick pressing against my sphincter. Before I could complain Ruth had shoved that sucker a good five inches into my lower intestinal tract, and the other end into a flowerpot Mrs. Borders had kept on a window ledge. When she did that, the other kids’ laughter and cheering were out of control. I was uncomfortable both physically and emotionally. As I recall, it didn’t really hurt but it sure felt awkward. You know the shit/fart conundrum I mentioned earlier? But more so, I was embarrassed and annoyed with the pleasure everyone else was experiencing from my discomfort.

I complained and whined at Ruth, “Hey, take that out of me.”

“Now, Brad you need to do what the team decided. Ruth is the leader of your team so you just need to stand there while all the others display their projects.” With that, I knew Mrs. Borders was amused.

Needless to say, I had to stand there naked, green, stiff boner with an ornament hanging off it, and a yard stick shoved up my ass.

After a couple of hours we were asked to clean up our projects so we could get ready to go home. The girls pulled off the branches and Ruth pulled out the “trunk”. Mrs. Borders told Carl to take me to the gym and to help bathe me in the boys’ shower to get the green paint off. I had to actually trudge down the long hallway like a naked junior Hulk. Not that I cared, but the hallways were vacant during that walk.

As we entered the locker room, for the pleasure of it all, I told Carl he had to strip and come in the shower with me to make sure all the paint came off. Reluctantly, he stripped naked and enter the gang shower. I told him I needed him to make sure my dick and ball sack were clean and I made him wash them claiming I couldn’t see down there very well. He was so embarrassed rubbing the soap on my dick and balls I was loving it. He also had to take care of my back as I couldn’t reach it. “You need to get the paint out of my crack and my hole too.” He balked at that.

“I’ll wash your butt crack, but I’m not touching your hole. Look I did your dick and you should have done it yourself. I’m not going to touch your hole though. That’s just gross. Do it yourself.”

I wasn’t to be denied. “You like playing with my dick and you know it.” I playfully grabbed his three inch stiffy tugged on it and he retreated. “Look, clean my hole or I’m going to tell Mrs. Borders you didn’t help me. Just put some soap on your finger and shove it in there, wiggle it around, and pull it out. That’s all!” He closed his eyes and did it. I laughed.

There was a knock on the locker room door. Carl looked helplessly for a towel to cover up should the knocker decide to come in. Being the prankster I was I grabbed him and literally slid him toward the door and yelled, “Come in”. The door opened. It was Caroline from our class. The first sight greeting her was Carl with a prominent boner, wiggling, crying, and trying to break my hold on him. She shyly placed my clothes on one of the benches. All the while she couldn’t take her eyes off of naked me, fully exposing Carl’s boyhood to her. As I stood there holding him in a full Nelson, my hard penis was pressed firmly against his butt crack. I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you it felt pretty good. I don’t think any hard on was ever harder than feeling it pressed against Carl’s skin.

I couldn’t resist, “Hey, Caroline, pull Carl’s wiener before you go. Go ahead, it’s all right. You can do it.”

With that he was writhing. His face was red. He was shouting threats at me. While he struggled desperately trying to free himself Caroline did manage to latch on to his peter, and after a momentary squeeze she released it and headed for the door. It was every bit as fun as watching Cody being forced to display his goods against his will. I just wish Caroline had brought a camera with her. I know she shared the experience with the other girls in class.

Oh, those were the days. It was fun sharing some of it with you.

(End of File)