I Felt the Culture and the Culture Felt Me

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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Jack, this writer’s alter ego and doppelganger, recounts his year as an eleven-year-old “exchange” student. The cultural differences existing in the eighties between his New Hampshire upbringing and eastern Europe are revisited. Based on an actual cultural birthday tradition still practiced by some eastern European families, the age of the participant and duration of the tradition has been embellished to increase the impact.

I Felt the Culture and the Culture Felt Me

By, Running Bare

It was the mid-eighties. I was invited to spend a year overseas in what is now Bosnia. Uncle Rex, my mother’s sister’s husband, was named as an attaché representing our government for an indeterminate time. In her generosity Aunt Lucy extended an invitation to my parents for me to spend a year with them. I’d attend school there, we’d take historical field trips as a family, and I’d gain insight into some foreign culture. All very educational. Of course, as she put it we’d blend as much as humanly possible into the local culture.

I was skeptical about going. First, I didn’t want to be away from my “culture” that long. I mean for a kid who was about to turn eleven, a year away from his immediate family and close friends was a bit frightening. But, as with most decisions back then, a kid didn’t have input into making important choices and my parents felt the educational opportunities were a once in a lifetime opportunity.

My plane landed July 23, after a ten hour flight. All I can say was it was boring as hell. We didn’t have all the gadgets kids have today to help time fly by, and even in those days normal ten year old boys didn’t want to read for that long. I spent the bulk of my time staring out the window at the pitched darkness as we flew. The light on the wing tips flashed and engines whined on and on. But, finally we’d flown into the morning and touched down. As I entered the terminal, Aunt Lucy, Uncle Rex, and my cousins Casey (9) and his two sisters Samantha (10) and Christina (12) were there to greet me.

I had a historic suspicion for both of the girls from earlier times. They’d caught me playing doctor with Casey two years prior and threatened to tell their mother if I didn’t take my clothes off and let them do it to me. Reluctantly, I chose to let them fondle me to avoid the belt that I’m sure would have been in the picture if Aunt Lucy or Uncle Rex would have addressed it. Anyway, they spent the better part of that afternoon pulling on my penis, squeezing my ball sack, and sticking the eraser end of a pencil in my anus. Truth is it was embarrassing at first, but as they continued their assault on my naked body I kind of acclimated to it and somewhat enjoyed the constant hard-on their playing caused. I didn’t like the pencil up my ass, but it was their “thermometer” and they had to keep track of my temperature. Well, that was then, and now was now.

My luggage was light. Mom said Aunt Lucy and Uncle Rex were going to dress me like a local boy. It would help me fit in to the community and school. Looking at Casey, I started to imagine what that might be like. He had on a long-sleeved button shirt and a pair of short-short pants with suspenders attached. I’d seen shorts like that in some books about Germany, but I didn’t ever imagine I’d end up wearing them. The legs were so short I wondered how they kept people from looking up there and scouting out their underwear. I would soon find out.

Just as I was thinking how I hated wearing shorts because of all the attention my legs got by Mom’s friends. They were always commenting on how muscular my “boy legs” were. When I was forced to wear shorts, I’d often overheard someone telling my mother how attractive my legs were. I hated short pants. That was when knee length Bermudas were the style. Those things Casey had on had a two inch inseam if that. Then the bomb dropped.

“Jack, we’re going to get you some lederhosen on the way home.” Aunt Lucy announced.

“What’s that?”

“See Casey’s shorts? That’s what little boys around here wear all year long. Even in the snow. You’d think they’d freeze to death, but the local people feel it toughens little boys up. Casey went through last winter pretty well. His little legs were often deep pink from the cold, but he survived. Didn’t you Casey?”

“Yeah, but it was cold.”

“Jack, the word lederhosen means leather pants. You can feel Casey’s. They’re all leather and they are almost a uniform for little boys around here. Even though they are often thought of in the U.S. as German, many European countries dress their boys in them. They really last too. Not like the cotton pants back home. Don’t worry, when winter comes you will have long sleeve shirts and coats to keep your upper body warm. I just think all those bare little boy legs are the cutest things. Don’t you girls?”

A pained agreement emanated from each of the girls. It was obvious they’d rather be somewhere else and doing something else rather than shopping for boys’ clothes.

We stopped at a local store and Aunt Lucy picked out several pairs of lederhosen for me and even a couple for Casey. The girls were busy looking at the latest girl fashions and Uncle Rex was sitting on a bench outside the store. What struck me hardest was when Aunt Lucy took me to a change booth to try on the shorts. Now, at home Mom would send me into the change stall to put them on and she’d wait for me to come out and model for her. Not Aunt Lucy. She came in with me. I was reluctant to take my jeans off in her presence, but it was apparent she wasn’t about to leave. I turned my back and slid them down and off. As I turned to face her she was holding a pair of the shorts up and admiring the elk emblem on the suspenders. I held my hand out. She looked at me and said, “Oh no, Honey, you don’t wear underpants with these. Take them off.”

I felt the blush hit my face almost instantaneously. “No. I need to keep them on.”

“Oh nonsense, young man, I’ve seen you naked before. Just take off the underpants and try these on.”

I was super modest at the time and I was up against a wall about pulling my underwear off in front of her. Aunt or not, even Mom hadn’t seen me totally nude in the prior year that I could remember. What could I do? I turned my back to Aunt Lucy and slid my briefs off. I wanted to shield my penis from her sight, but the full length mirror on the back wall of the booth betrayed me. I could see her reflection as she examined my boy parts from behind. She ordered me to turn around and I did so clutching as best I could to prevent her from a closer view of my genitals.

To her credit she didn’t order me to put my hands down. She just handed me the shorts and I awkwardly fumbled around to put them on. The damned things didn’t have a zipper they had a front flap. Yeah, a flap! When you had to pee, you unbuttoned the flap and let it all hang out.

As I think back about it, if you didn’t wear underpants with the damned things, one has to wonder how many other boys had tried this pair on before I did. Imagine all those little bare asses and dicks rubbing where yours is now. Kind of disgusting. But, I was too young to think about that then, and it must not have fazed Lucy like I’m sure it would have Mom. It’s just the way it was in “their culture”.

I guess it would be a good time to explain another thing about my body that I attribute to what was, at the time, extremely hyper body shyness. On a ten scale for modesty, I was definitely a twenty. My penis was a bit longer than average. Not a lot, but significantly enough that people who saw me naked would make comments. Even other boys would be semi-entranced staring at it during group exposure in locker rooms or when skinny dipping was required of boys. I was very sensitive to that and the remarks adults would make upon seeing me. My circumcision was clean and the head was respectable, but the shaft was probably an inch longer than most kids my age. To her credit, Lucy, made no comment. Probably because she was all commented out having seen me naked for many of my younger years. Suffice to say, I wasn’t freakishly long, just long enough to draw attention to myself and, in turn, lead to my modesty problem.

What did occur to me was how susceptible I was in those lederhosen to having my penis flop out one leg openings if I was the least bit careless on how I sat down. The potential for exposure increased tremendously should I ever pop a boner. Not to mention how the wide leg openings might put my junk on display should I take to climbing on anything—trees, playground equipment, and so on. That and the amount of exposed leg the shorts demanded made me completely uncomfortable with the attire. Again, what could I do?

“Just leave them on, Honey.” She snapped the tags off. “I’ll pay for them with these others.” She dropped my jeans and jockies into a large trash can next to the register, paid for the three pairs of shorts for me and the clothing for the other kids. God, I was self-conscious coming out of the dressing room wearing those shorts. My legs were much whiter than Casey’s as I’d not worn shorts outside unless Mom’s frustration with my modesty caused her to order me to do so. Not to mention how gangly my “naked” legs felt with the full length exposure.

On the way out, Lucy stopped and raised an index finger, “Oh, I almost forgot. I need to buy some shirts for you Jack.” Already somewhat embarrassed with the lederhosen and my leg exposure, I accompanied her to a table with boys’ shirts laid out on it. She selected three long sleeved shirts and a couple of short sleeve ones. She had to have me try one on to make sure the size was right. Now, one would think wearing short shorts with suspenders and no zipper, but even more importantly, no underwear, you would have to go back in the dressing room to try on the shirt. Ohhhh, noooo…

“Just slip the suspenders off and pull the shorts down a little bit and try this on right here.”

Holy shit, she was making me show my ass and front parts right there at the shirt rack. Right in the middle of the damned store.

“Hurry up, Uncle Rex is going to have a conniption if we don’t get out of here pretty soon. Don’t worry no one is going to pay attention to a boy trying on the shirt. They do it all the time. I’ve seen so many cute little tight bare asses in these stores. It’s not like back home. People don’t care if the boys are naked.”

The only alternative was to quickly slip the lederhosen down to just above my knees and hope the shirt covered my now erect appendage as she buttoned it to check the fit. Thankfully, she was quick and as I remember it not even my cousins saw anything of real import. But, Aunt Lucy was again given audience to my penis and scrotum. To her credit she seemed not to even pay attention. I don’t know how she could have avoided it. The damn thing was sticking out four inches and hard enough to parallel the floor. I did get a sudden flush feeling as she fastened the buttons at the bottom of that shirt. My penis was literally batted back and forth by the sides of her hands as she buttoned the lower buttons surrounding my boner. Oh God, how embarrassing. She was right down there almost eye level with my throbbing knob and pee slit staring back. Too her credit it was almost as if she was unaware of my genitals and that lessened a bit of my embarrassment.

“Here, pull the shorts up.” And she slid the straps back over my shoulders. “Now don’t you look like a local little boy?”

The ride to their house was uneventful except for the scanning glances of my girl cousins. Christina put her hand high up on my bare thigh and grinned at me when I indignantly reacted. She knew what the hell she was doing to me. She even leaned over and whispered, “Remember when we made you get naked for us?” I’d hoped she’d forgotten that, but why would she have? I hadn’t. And, it was not as pleasant a memory for me as it was for the three of them.

As Uncle Rex drove down a city street, Samantha called our attention to a shocking sight. A totally naked six or seven year old kid was out in front of his house playing with two other little boys both of whom were clothed (notably in lederhosen). “Oh, Look, Mom, that little boy must have had his birthday.”

I quickly glanced out the window at the sight as we passed, my thoughts were, “What the hell?” The kid was naked and playing right there on a city sidewalk. He seemed completely unconcerned about his vulnerability.

Aunt Lucy was quick to remark, “Isn’t he cute? Look at those dimples in his tight little ass.” Uncle Rex kept on going and nothing more was said about it. Back home that scene would have led to a long discussion in the car, but as quickly as we lost track of the kid and drove on any mention of him ceased.

The next couple of weeks were spent in introducing me to neighbors. Surprisingly, most spoke English. Some better than others. As I played with boys from Casey’s age right up to a year or two older than I, I’d pick up on short Slavic phrases and was pleased to be learning another language. I was even growing more confident wearing those shorts. None of the other kids made remarks about my legs nor did any of the locals or even people who worked with Uncle Rex, at least that I knew about.

The only time I took issue with the exposure was the frequent “hands on” experiences with Christina putting her hand high up on my inner thigh when I was forced to sit next to her. I waited to repel any finger creep up the leg openings when she did, but it never happened. There was a time when she asked if I wanted to play doctor with her, Samantha, and some of their friends, but I declined. We all knew who she expected the patient to be. She knew better than make a big deal of it.

It was Christina that schooled me in one particular point of boy anatomy. Being an American kid, I don’t ever remember seeing an uncircumcised penis. Yeah, Christina was first to mention it. “Wieners on boys around here are different than yours and Casey’s. There’s skin wrapped around the tops.” I was embarrassed enough at her schooling that I brushed it off. Never occurred to me to ask how in the hell she knew that, but she liked my reddened face and she went on. “Yep, the skin at the tip slides back and forth if you push it back.” Shit the kid has played doctor with the locals? “It looks funny in front. Kind of like a closed wrapper, but when you push it back the tip is red and kind of shinny. It is the same shape as yours and Casey’s but it isn’t pink and dry.” I’d heard enough. I left the conversation half thinking she was making it up. As time went by, I was to see that she was telling the truth.

Boys in the area were not a bit body shy. They’d proudly whip their dicks out over the flaps of those shorts and pee almost anywhere. Even within eye shot of adults. Parents never corrected their exposure or even attended to it. Little guys were often nude in the middle of some fountain in town and played there completely comfortable with being naked in front of the whole world. Their penises were indeed different looking. In fact, it was rare to see kids whose tips had been pared like mine and Casey’s anywhere. It was easy then to see how Christina was so informed. She was entertained by baby to six or seven year old penises almost daily. I wondered how all these kids could be so comfortable with their parents’ cavalier attitude about making them expose themselves. As I think about it, what does beg an explanation is how in the hell she knew so much about the mechanics of foreskins.

The real shocker came on August 22^nd, my eleventh birthday. I was told that it was customary for boys and their families to remain awake to begin their birthday celebration one minute past mid-night on that special day. What the hell, I was game. Kids my age liked being able to stay awaked that late, even if all the TV programs were in Slavic rather than English we kids could self-entertain.

All of us gathered to play a game of Monopoly. It wasn’t long until the chimes rang on the grandfather clock signaling the official start of my day. Without warning, Uncle Rex lifted me out of my chair by the arm pits. It startled me and I began playfully trying to wiggle free as I questioned what was going on. The thought that ran through my head was “oh, he’s going to give me birthday spanks”. I struggled harder in an attempt to free myself. Then he put me in what we use to call a full nelson—his arms were under mine and wrapped around until his hands interlocked behind my head. I pondered how he would be able to hold me like that and get a hand free to spank me. He made no move to swat my backside, instead he just said, “Christina”.

My elder cousin approached me. She slid the leather shoulder straps free of my shoulders while Uncle Rex temporarily released his hold on either side. I began to worry about what the hell was going on. Aunt Lucy, Samantha and Casey were beside themselves with eager giggles as they watched Christina slide lederhosen to the floor. I kicked violently trying to protect myself from my half naked condition. I started to cry in frustration. Christina grabbed my quickly inflating penis and gave it a gentle yank. Then she fingered my ball sack, without one word of correction from the adults. All I could hear was giggling and Uncle Rex’s laughter.

Aunt Lucy ordered, “Okay, Jack, lift your feet so she can get the lederhosen off.” I refused to cooperate and Christina, avoiding my wild kicking, was able to pull the shorts free. Next Samantha came over and began unbuttoning my shirt. She paused to fondle my penis and ball sack. Again, no correction only giggles. Uncle Rex alternately released his hold enough for her to slip my shirt off. I was nude, fully exposed and crying from the frustration and embarrassment.

Aunt Lucy just said, “Casey, your turn.” The kid approached and played with my penis and massaged my scrotum.

He looked over his shoulder at his mother, “His is long. Isn’t it, Mom?”

She had to rub it in, “He always has been longer down there. Ever since he was a baby.” She got up and approached, “My turn.” With that she gently grasped my penis and slid her hand from base to tip. Then she pressed gently into my ball sack. Was the whole family perverted?

As Uncle Rex continued to restrain me and my tears of humiliation and embarrassment continued down my cheeks, Aunt Lucy explained.

“Here, on little boys’ birthdays, it’s customary for the boy to spend time in his birthday suit. He runs around naked so people can see how much he’s grown over the prior year. What they use as their measure is not just how tall he is, but if his little peepee and bag have grown. So, you will be nude for a little while so people can take note of your growth. I know it will be hard for you, but it’ll be a new experience. Besides, your mother said you were having a problem being comfortable with your body and this may help you.”

Casey eagerly interjected, “Yeah, you get free Gelato and other treats when we go into town.”

Enter Uncle Rex, “Jack, I’m going to let you go, but you have to know, other people are not going to be shy about feeling your penis or your balls. Here at home and other people will want to feel your boy parts. It’s a compliment to you. Just go with it. It’s rude to not allow it. You’ll be fine. If you embarrass us by covering your penis from view or fend off someone’s touch, it’ll embarrass us and I’ll have to spank you. Understand?”

A whole new round of tears started flowing. Again, Uncle Rex asked, “Do you understand the rules?”

I couldn’t speak I just pathetically nodded in affirmation. He released me. I wanted to run and hide, but there was no place to run to. I collapsed to the floor and wept. Samantha mentioned how she was sorry for me and how she was glad girls didn’t have the same rules. Aunt Lucy asked her to stop talking about it.

Christina tried to put me at ease by informing me that once boys had hair down there, they didn’t have to do it anymore. Fat help that was, I didn’t have hair and I wouldn’t be there when I did anyway.

“You guys need to go to bed. Tomorrow is Jack’s big day. We’ve got quite a party planned for him. Neighbors, people form Daddy’s office and their families will be coming to celebrate. Go on now, go get some rest.”

Casey tried to appease me, “You’re going to get a lot of presents tomorrow. You’ll like it.”

I guess he was too young to fully get it. The only presents I wanted was my clothes back. I didn’t want free ice cream, I didn’t want free treats, I didn’t want any presents. All I wanted was my skimpy lederhosen and a shirt. It wasn’t going to happen.

That night Aunt Lucy sat on the bed as I pleaded for some clothing. She stroked my head, shoulders and arms as she tried to calm me and explain how good it was going to be for me. Nothing she said gave me comfort. Then she pulled the sheet down and rubbed my still hard penis and testicles. Her voice was low and calm and I’m sure she felt massaging my boyhood would sooth me. It didn’t. It made me more self-aware. She patted my naked bottom and returned the coverage of the sheets, kissed my forehead and bid me a good night. I lay there for what seemed like hours crying and eventually fell asleep.

The next morning, I was awakened by Aunt Lucy singing happy birthday as she spread the curtains open to let the daylight flood the room. It was almost surreal as I was once again made aware of being totally naked.

Breakfast was not as easy as you might think. I wasn’t resigned to being exposed around a fully clothed audience, especially the girls. I would never be comfortable allowing anyone and everyone to play with my penis, which by the way was once again erect. I wasn’t crying but my “little buddy” wanted everyone to know he was “excited” so much so he was standing at full attention. As I went to cup it for some privacy, Uncle Rex just said, “Uh, uh!” to remind me of the rules, no covering. As I sat at the table something incredible happened, Casey showed up completely naked. No note was made, not even by his sisters. He sat down and awaited breakfast.

“Jack, though they don’t have to, other little boys are invited to spend time naked with you. Many, like Casey, enjoy being nude and they are free to do it while they’re around you. They don’t have to, but I think Casey wants to make it easier for you.”

Samantha piped in, “Yeah, but we can’t feel their things unless they let us. Only yours. Mom, why can’t we feel other boys when they’re naked? I’d like to feel Wilhelm’s all the time. His is fun. Remember, Christina, how that skin on his wiener moved back and forth?”

“Sam, just eat your breakfast and quit worrying about playing with penises.” Uncle Rex was a bit perturbed.

“But I like to. I wish all the boys had to be naked all the time and I could feel their things.”

“I said enough, young lady! Just eat your breakfast.”

As I ate, Christina reached between my legs and began wiggling my penis around. I yelled “Stop, Christina.” And was corrected again by Uncle Rex. I was reminded during my birthday naked time, she and anyone else could feel my penis or testicles so long as they were gentle. I had no grounds to keep them from doing it. Aunt Lucy reminded me they were just admiring how much I’d grown the prior year. I argued back they never saw it last year so how could they know. She got a bit annoyed at my argument and jabbed back with, “Well, now they have a point of reference. Maybe we’ll have you back next year so they can judge your growth.” I didn’t challenge again.

I had to ask, “Do boys go to school naked on their birthday?”

Aunt Lucy had the answer, “No, they are only naked when they’re home. But, I don’t imagine anyone would have a problem with it if they did. Jack, people over here don’t think a thing about seeing naked boys. Just relax. By the way, Christina made sure to invite some of the kids from your grade to your party. It’ll be a good time for you to meet some of them, don’t you think? So, I guess, if they’ve already seen you naked it, wouldn’t have been so bad allowing birthday boys to attend school naked. Nobody should have a problem with it. But, not to worry, your birthday comes during the annual break each year anyway.”

Samantha had to make it worse, “I told the kids how Casey’s penis looked different from the boys from around here. So, on his birthday lots of kids came to see and touch it.”

“So did their parents. Everyone wanted to feel it.” Christina added to her sister’s account. “I’ll bet everyone will want to feel Jack’s too. His is pretty long.” Under the table she grabbed it again and squeezed. I started to slap her hand away, but thought twice about doing it. I certainly didn’t need a round with Uncle Rex’s belt that morning.

That day it seemed there were a hundred people in attendance. There weren’t that many but it sure felt that way. I’ll bet every kid in the neighborhood—boys, girls and their parents came to the party. Not a single kid who came skipped feeling my continuously erect penis and the testicle purse below. All of them were intrigued with the lack of foreskin. I think every girl and several boys returned time and again to explore the feel of its uniqueness. It occurred to me even though I’d hate having to attend school this way, I guess it couldn’t be any worse than the backyard party. My penis and scrotum were handled and photographed continuously. A table was set up for the presents. It was a big deal.

I have to admit I was terrified as the first visitors arrived, but as the day progressed, I became numb to what was going on. I guess my brain moved me to the numbness as a protection mechanism. I even became somewhat immune to the embarrassment of erections. I mean so many people engaged in fondling me it kind of was expected I’d be hard all that afternoon.

There must have been five younger boys who stripped or were brought to the party naked which was of little help in diverting attention from me. Without a doubt, I was the main attraction. I was fondled by men, women, boys and girls. Mothers and fathers took pictures of me front, back and sideways. Sometimes I be forced to pose for photos so they could capture their kids exploring various parts of my body.

Late in the afternoon my parents called to wish me a happy birthday. Mom I’d imagine on the kitchen phone and Dad on the one in their bedroom. I’ll make it short and sweet, hearing their voices, I started to cry and begged them to let me come home. Mom tried to reassure me that I’d get over the homesickness and it’d be good for me to spend the year. They promised a visit during the Christmas holidays, but I was going to be there for a year. Mom made it a point to question me about the whole boy birthday tradition I was experiencing. Dad was spurred to ask, “Do you feel a bit more okay with your body now?”

My answer was that I hated being naked. I told them anybody who wanted to could feel my boy parts and I had to let them. Dad just said, “Oh, it’s good for you. Just toughen up. Any cute little girls playing with it?” He chuckled as Mom chastised him for saying such a thing.

Before I resumed begging to come home again, I built on Dad’s remark telling him men and boys have been playing with my penis too. My thinking was the homophobia of it all would make him reconsider my stay. He just said they were probably curious about my cut job and told me to let them feel it. All my complaining was to no avail.

To this day, I believe the naked ordeal was a driving force for them deciding to send me there. Both of them were bothered by my “abnormal” modesty. Dad because being so modest wasn’t “manly” and mom because she loved showing my body off to her friends.

At the end of that day, I looked forward to mid-night assuming I could return to my clothed state and put it all far behind. At about ten that night, Aunt Lucy told me I’d had a big day and sent me to bed naked. I begrudgingly complied.

Before I knew it, the drapes were being pulled back by the always cheerful Aunt Lucy. She told me it was time to get up. She sat on my bed for a moment and massaged my morning wood. “Let’s go! Get up! We have a lot to do today. Go to the bathroom and come down to breakfast.”

“Okay.” I stretched and asked where my clothes were. The answer was not what I expected.

“Oh, Honey, you have ten more days without them. All you can wear is shoes when we go to town. I guess we didn’t explain the whole thing very well. You have to spend your birthday nude and you did and then you have to finish up the same number of days as you are years old before you get your clothes back.”

My jaw dropped and my eyes were wide I’m sure. My words fell to my stomach. When I regained the ability to speak, I argued that I’d done my time. Aunt Lucy was adamant. I’d be naked for eleven days. Ten more to go. I must admit it was the first time I flashed back to that seven or eight year old kid we’d passed on the way home from the airport. What Samantha had blurted out about birthdays returned to my mind. Now it all made sense.

At breakfast, I was quick to note that Casey had returned to wearing clothes. Even though the kid was more than willing to romp around naked with me, Aunt Lucy was afraid if he stayed naked, it’d take away from the special attention that should go to the “birthday boy”. Later he shared with me that he thought if he was naked the merchants would give him free stuff too thinking he was a birthday boy. As far as I was concerned, I really wanted to forego the damn “free stuff”. I wanted my clothes back. No amount of free stuff could compel me to go to a public place naked. What made me more apprehensive was the thought that complete strangers would be allowed to feel my package at their whim. Anticipating that made the tears well up in my eyes again.

Uncle Rex had gone to work. He took the car. So, we five would be walking the mile or so to the town center. Oh, God, let this cup pass. What’s the old adage? Sometimes the answer to prayers is ‘no’. That was apparently the answer to mine.

As we walked Aunt Lucy reminded me, “No covering. No covering yourself. Keep your hands away.” My boner swayed with each step we took and Christina and Samantha were obviously entertained by the movement.

Samantha must have had a memory jog about the time two years prior that I was blackmailed by the three of them so they could play doctor with me. She ran to her mother’s side and actually asked, “Hey, can we put things in his butt hole?” I didn’t like the sound of that request. I was instantly scared as I awaited the response. I was pleasantly surprised at my Aunt’s answer.

“You might hurt him. I’m not sure we are going to let you do that.” Little did she know about whadt they’d done to me a couple of years earlier.

Lucy kept up her pace as the little shit furthered her argument. “We’d be careful. We wouldn’t use anything sharp. You know stuff like pencils or crayons.”

Lucy’s common sense prevailed, “Samantha, pencils have points. No, you might hurt him.”

“We’d use unsharpened pencils, you know the eraser ends. Stuff like that. How about some of Casey’s Lincoln Logs? They’re big and not sharp.”

“We’ll see. We’ll ask Daddy about that when he comes home tonight.”

Not to be out done Casey said, “He’ll just say no. He wrecks all our fun.”

Fun? Fun? Guess that depends on which end you’re on during all that “fun” stuff. So much for gender support. I’d have loved to shove one of those Lincoln Logs up his ass and see how he’d like it. For that matter Samantha’s too. And, Christina’s too. Yeah, shove one up all their asses. I had a light moment as the idea of calling it “Kid on a Stick” entered my mind. I dismissed the thought as dangerous for me to think about. They were talking about impaling me and it wouldn’t be so funny if I was to be on a stick.

The trip to town was eventful. People passing us on the busy sidewalk were wishing me a happy birthday in both broken English and Slavic. I suppose my exposed knob gave away my country of origin, thus the attempts at English greeting. I have to admit most of my interaction on that visit was purely vocal. There weren’t but a few attempts by complete strangers to feel my dick or balls.

As Casey had said, I was offered free ice cream, candy, and even baked goods from vendors along our walk. I was photographed by a few people and they were insistent on frontal shots probably because of the obvious interest in my circumcised member. One man, had Casey cupping my scrotum with a big smile as my stiff penis pointed right at the camera. Then he let Samantha pose the same way. Just one big happy family.

It is interesting to reminisce about the visits to town and more public exhibitions of me in the altogether during my birthday unveiling. Adults, both men and women, and even older teens tended to be more into playfully swatting my nude backside than fondling my genitals. Oh sure, some did reach down in front, but not most. Some did both. But, kids and early teens tended to go right for my penis and scrotum to cop a feel. Boys were a bit more aggressive than girls—yanking rather than gentle pulls, mashing rather than massaging, etc. I can’t attribute it to their native interest in my penile difference from other boys in Europe, but I’m sure curiosity played a role with many of the kids who manhandled me, especially when it came to other boys as there was a lot of attention paid to my fully exposed glans.

Looking back, I have to admit two things. First, I believe all that exposure and open touching during those days did, in fact, desensitize my body shyness noticeably. Frequency of erections subsided more and more every day during the week and a half. It got to the point my package had to be touched to get it to rise. I know my condition also lost its luster for my cousins as they started to take my nakedness for granted. Not much fondling from them after the first three or four days. My genitals had become old hat for them.

Secondly, I was really aroused by the experience, and, as I look back, I have to admit I was stimulated by being forced to be naked in front of clothed others. First it was awkward, but then the hormonal reaction caused by the forced nudity became surprisingly pleasant. I didn’t want people touching my penis and balls, but then I secretly longed for it. I won’t lie though. I was eager for the tradition to end so I could put clothes on again. When it was over, I wasted no time doing so. Lederhosen with no underwear never felt so welcomed.

Did I find the pleasure outweighed the embarrassment? Noooo. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let my parents send me the next year. Let them parade Casey around in my place. He loved being nude and he loved his sisters and their friends playing doctor with a whole lot more than his penis.

Was I less guarded about being naked when I got home? Noooo. I reverted into my body-shyness relatively soon. It just wasn’t as bad as it had been before Europe. Showering and skinny dipping with my peers was no longer a problem, but being naked in front of clothed others, especially females, was back on the same scale. I reverted to shunning short pants as well. And, half way through my twelfth year puberty hit making my need for modesty even stronger.

As you read my account, some of you are wishing you were there to enjoy the sights, touches and photo ops. Back then I’m glad you weren’t. But, if I could go back to those times with what I know now, I’d wish you were too. To my knowledge, the tradition is still practiced widely in many eastern European areas. My evidence? I personally have photos from two such families of naked nine and five year old boys whose parents still old to the traditional birthday practices. Maybe someday you’ll be lucky enough to participate by ordering your sons to feel the culture by letting the culture feel them on their “special” days.

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