Mrs. Bolton and 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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Ten year old Jack didn't pay as much attention to his fourth grade studies as his parents and teacher would have liked. As a result his teacher is contracted by the parents to motivate and teach him during the summer months.

Mrs. Bolton and Me
by, Running Bare

Mom and Dad had been livid with me over the way I'd “wasted the entire fourth grade year”. Yeah, I'd preferred disappearing in the woods and riding my bike to friends' houses after school rather than doing what I felt were completely stupid homework assignments. In class I'd find myself challenging Mrs. Bolton's patience and frustrating the principal's discipline.

My ass had been bared both at home and at school for whippings which, looking back, I guess I deserved. But getting your bare backside striped by Dad's belt or Mr. Chievers' paddle at school was a cheap price to pay for freedom from assignments. Yes, for those of you who are wondering, Mr. Chievers was not only allowed by my parents to strip me naked for paddling, but was almost ordered to do it that way by my Dad. I think it had a lot to do with my modesty issues which were apparently another concern of my parents. I was an extremely body shy ten year old and humiliation did get my attention.

As I look back at the whole body shyness issue, I think it was the fact that genetics had endowed me with a longer appendage than any of my friends, and, according to discussions I'd overheard between my Mom and my grandmother, my shapely muscular legs. My penis measured a good four inches while flaccid, and almost five and a half when hard. How did I know? Simply because I regularly measured it in the privacy of my bedroom when I was supposed to be engaged in doing my math homework. Well, hell, measurement was math wasn't it? I don't see why anyone would be upset at such things.

I was often intrigued with my forever exposed glans. Who'd ever done the honors at my birth, he or she had done a nice clean cut and left little if any of foreskin residue. When it was hard, I liked squeezing the bulbous knob to watch the urethra wink at me and sometimes, I'd feed my curiosity trying to force a Q-tip into the hole. If you've never tried it, once you get past the first half inch it gets a bit painful. I also liked feeling my testicles through the wrinkled scrotum. Yeah, I was curious about all those things but I wasn't at all comfortable sharing them with others. Except maybe my best friend Bobby Andrews. He and I would play dare games which would almost always end up with me, and often Bobby, naked somewhere in the woods we both cherished so much. It would almost always lead to Bobby playing with my penis, balls, or exploring my anus. Oh there were times I'd get the opportunity to return the favor, but even he admitted his penis was not as much fun to titillate as mine.

Turned out that very summer Mrs. Bolton had made a deal with my parents. She would tutor me in math, English and reading over the summer, but there were conditions. As far as I can tell the conditions were she could wail the tar out of my bare backside with a belt whenever she deemed necessary. That one got absolutely no objection from the home front. And, apparently she was given control over my attire. I say this because for some reason for every incorrect “quiz” answer I'd give, she would request one clothing item from me. That was the “red pen” in the summer grading scenario. My Mom and Dad loved that. They thought it'd either force me to study harder, or at the very least it'd attack my modesty “problem”. For them it was win, win.

I was never given any explanation of the rules for my tutoring sessions by my parents. They just dropped me off at Mrs. Bolton's in the morning and she told me how it was going to work. Interesting that she decided should I ever be completely relieved of my clothing on any given day, any further missed answers would each cost me one hour of naked time beyond the tutoring time.

I don't recall that Mrs. Bolton had ever seen me naked. Mr. Chievers always paddled my naked ass in the privacy of his office and we were, as far as I remember, always alone. Believe me when I say having to bare myself for him was embarrassing in itself. Dad was Dad and I didn't feel self-conscious naked in front of him. But Mr. Chievers? That was a different story.

When I was eight or nine I found nakedness more embarrassing in front of my Mom. Probably because when those rare occasions occurred, she'd often diddle my penis and sack with her fingers. She'd give a cursory touch to those parts even on occasions she was about to apply the leather to my ass. She'd find any number of reasons to examine my boyhood when I was bare. Nothing sexual, just affectionate contact I'd guess. But she did always insist I serve, sometimes hours long, naked timeouts after each belting. Dad didn't usually require that.

During those naked time experiences, there'd almost always be someone who just happened to drop in for a visit. I still believe Mom got on the phone and encouraged friends and neighbors to drop by. I was always required to show them everything. Very few of her visitors ever left without commenting on the length of my penis. Of course, my butt and legs would also get reviews, but always there were comments about how well hung I was. After time, the comments caused me to feel freakish and embarrassed even more than the simple forced nudity. As I said, I'm convinced that's what played a part in my abnormal level of childhood modesty.

The previous summer I'd begun a rebellion against wearing short pants. I felt they weren't what “grown” boys should wear. All my TV heroes wore long pants. I knew they wouldn't be caught dead with their legs exposed. It was just plain unmanly. I have to admit during the summer months those long legged denim jeans were hot. As a result my lower extremities were always hot and sweaty. They provided a breeding ground for heat rashes which would almost always result in me standing naked in front of my mother as she happily applied lotion to my dick, balls, inner thighs and ass. I remember her words, “If you'd wear short pants, you wouldn't get these rashes.” Then I'd be made to stay naked until the lotion “soaked in” and the rash cleared up.

Well now, here I was at Mrs. Bolton's. She was nice enough but she didn't put up with any misbehavior. Imagine my sense of well-being when she announced the new test grading system I'd be experiencing. I just sat there while she told me for every wrong answer I'd have to give up a clothing item I was wearing. She let on that she knew I had a problem being naked even in front of authority figures and that she and my parents decided that the possibility of being naked in her presence would be a good way to encourage maximum progress in my studies.

As if that wasn't devastating enough, she continued to say should I ever end up totally nude each further error would result in one hour added naked time after tutoring. I can honestly say I didn't quite understand the hour of naked time provision as I was still stuck with the terror of the losing a clothing item for each wrong answer provision. Add to that the bare ass spanking I'd get from her for not having my homework ready to turn in each morning and that would just about wrap it all up. All I could say was same sheriff, just new rules.

Adult collusion never entered my mind. I just knew that Mom and Dad would find some kind of fault with Mrs. Bolton's plan. Wrong! They loved the outlined consequences and they were committed to overseeing any naked time accumulated beyond tutoring hours during evenings and weekends. They even added should I have naked time to work off on family time, the planned schedule would not be adjusted. I'd just have to go wherever, whenever, naked. Talk about motivated! I was motivated to avoid this punishment.

Another surprise was announced by my mother, I was required to wear short pants everyday all day. This resulted in her happily cutting off the legs of all of my jeans. She purposely cut them very short. They were so short my briefs showed every time I squatted down or spread my legs. When I complained she simply said, “If you don't want people seeing your underpants, don't wear any.” Yeah, like that was going to happen. She even bought some shorter than fashionable khaki shorts for all dress up occasions. No more long pants until she and Dad decided I could wear them. I was boxed in.

That first instructional day was unremarkable. Mrs. Bolton wasn't going to start enforcing any of it until the following day. I had a considerable amount of homework that night, but I got it done.

She gave me a math quiz that next morning. I missed three. I'd lost both shoes and one sock in the first half hour. No other quizzes that day, thank God!

Day three was different. Another math quiz I was confident I'd aced it. Not so though, I lost both shoes and both socks. All was cool until she threw the verb tense quiz at me for English. I missed four. There went my shorts, underwear and shirt. I was so frustrated with the grade I cried and begged her to let me take it again. She firmly demanded my “shorts” her hand held out. Then “underpants, please”. I stood trembling with my thumbs looped in the elastic waistband. “Now!” I slid them down and my hardened appendage literally sprung loose from the elastic. It slapped my pubic area with a thud. She then demanded my shirt. I was naked. But worse yet, I had also earned an hour of naked time.

Mrs. Bolton beckoned my approach to go over my wrong answers. My boyhood was stiff as a board and covered by both hands as I moved toward her. When I was standing before her, she pushed my hands away and cupped my tight little ball sack and squeezed my erect penis pinching it from the base to the engorged glans between her thumb and forefinger. After that she reached around and cupped my butt cheeks one in each hand and gently massaged them as I was instructed not to ever cover my penis or scrotum with anything at any time under penalty of a spanking I'd remember for a long time.

Before I was released from tutoring I'd added two more hours from missed spelling words (I swear the two I'd missed weren't on my study list, but she insisted they were and that I'd just failed to copy them down. Guess who always wins those kind of arguments.)

If you do the math, I had three hours of extra naked time which were earned two hours in to my three hour session. Net extended naked time to be served after class was two hours and my note to Mom plainly stated that. As I was ushered to her door, Mrs. Bolton said she'd drop my clothes off later in the day. I was to ride my bike home completely nude. No one had mentioned I'd have to do that. Four suburban blocks separated our house from hers and it was broad daylight. Being naked in public causes one's appendage to naturally extend and mine was, as I said, a bit more “interesting” than normal boys. Believe me when I tell you, being totally exposed to a suburban neighborhood in the early afternoon makes one peddle his bike very fast.

Wish I could say my mother was appalled at my situation when I arrived home. She just looked me over and laughed. “Bad day at tutoring?” She was delighted and I was crying with embarrassment and pissed off. “Sure hope you didn't earn much naked time. We've been invited to the Johnson's for dinner.”

Luckily I only had one hour and twenty seven minutes longer to serve THAT day. I'd completed my additional naked time before Dad came home and we went to the Johnson's. They had two daughters and I thankfully dodged that bullet. I think my situation amused my parents based on Dad's reaction after Mom reported what had happened earlier that day. “Too bad. I'm sure Julie and Cara would have enjoyed the show! But, the summer is long and maybe they'll get another chance!”

Yes, I did report that Mrs. Bolton manhandled my genitalia to my parents. It didn't faze either of them. “When you're there, you're hers. Ownership has it's privileges. And, quite frankly, when you're naked we think you should be anybody's toy. So, study hard, Buddy! You don't have to be naked. It's all up to you.”

I took Dad's remark to heart and applied myself to my work the rest of that week. I could tell Mrs. Bolton wanted very much to get me naked by some of her remarks. I was also aware of my mother's longing for me to walk in the backdoor naked as the day I was born. But, it didn't happen. I was proud of myself for the efforts I'd made to curtail that. But, then I was hit with a rules change.

Mrs. Bolton (and I'm sure at least my Mom) decided a clothed Jack wasn't nearly as exciting as a naked one. It was Thursday of the second week. I'd been able to at least wear my underwear home each day for a week and a half. Apparently that was unacceptable to them.

“Beginning on Monday of next week, we're going to do this differently. You will strip naked as you enter the house and I will give you one clothing item of my choice for each assignment or test on which you score ninety percent or better. If your grade on any assignment is less than seventy, you will lose one of any items you may have earned. If you don't have an item to give back, I will withhold any you earn until we are even. Now, in order to be fair with you, if you score between seventy and ninety you will not lose any items, but you won't win any back either. Do you understand the new policy?”

I choked back my words, “Why are you changing the rules?”

“I like seeing you naked. It's no fun for me if you have clothes on. Your mom likes it when you're naked too. After seeing that wonderful penis, I have to admit she and I are on the same page. I enjoy playing with that penis and fingering your scrotum. I like to rub my hands over those firm, smooth little butt cheeks. I have to admit I'm still looking forward to putting a belt to them first chance I get. Yeah, I envied Mr. Chievers for getting to paddle you.” She stared at the ceiling and continued, “I could only imagine the snap of the paddle hitting your bottom, those tight little cheeks jiggling each time he connected, the rosy color your backside would turn, you crying out with tear filled eyes. “

She turned her attention back to me, “As far as the nudity part, at least I'll get sometime to 'drink it all in', and, if I'm lucky, share it with others. Don't worry, you're doing so well on your school work you won't be naked long. I'll bet you earn your clothes back everyday before you go home.”

I knew, and she knew too, that wasn't going to be happening. It was evident even to this ten year old mind that she planned for me being naked all the time whenever she could. And, she got to structure the rules any way she wanted to make it happen. More importantly, she was in control of the red pen.

“Oh, and did I mention Mom and Dad want you to stay in whatever state of dress you come home until you return to the next tutoring session? Better be sure you've at least earned your underpants on Fridays, huh! Be a shame if your boy things were bared for the whole weekend. I mean a day would be bad enough.”

It was those comments that finally made me dislike Mrs. Bolton. It was personal. Until this turn of events, I'd given her the benefit of the doubt and convinced myself she did these things for my own good. Not after that though, she admitted enjoying exposing me. She even admitted wanting to spank me and no amount of reasoning on my part would make me believe it was all about helping me apply myself to school work.

The most memorable situation during that time was the Wednesday before the fourth of July weekend. As it would happen the fourth was on a Thursday so I was to be free of Mrs. Bolton and her rules of attire for four days in a row. Mom and Dad had made arrangements to go to Grandma and Grandpa's house for two days. They lived three hundred miles away and visiting them or having them visit was always a treat to me. It was also an opportunity for me to spend time romping around with my maternal cousins. I really was looking forward to going. But...

Wednesday morning I arrived at Mrs. Bolton's without shorts. I'd managed to earn back my shirt, socks and briefs on Tuesday. But, hey, having my Calvin Kleins and socks to protect me from the prior day until that Wednesday sure made the bike ride a bit more comfortable than being totally bare. As I entered the house I was reminded to strip the underwear and socks from my body to begin the process of the renewed effort to earn them back as the day progressed.

That day the sun was bright and the skies were clear. She decided we'd hold class out at the picnic table in her backyard. Yes, the whole setting was visually opened to any adjoining property owner who might want to watch the naked kid going to class. I'm not sure we were watched, but I know if I lived in one of the neighboring houses and a nude boy or girl was being paraded around, I'd be watching.

First thing was Mrs. Bolton's review of my homework. I was seated, as usual to her right, legs spread and penis and ball sack open to her fondling as she reviewed my work. I must admit my mind was on the fact that I had a four day holiday coming and her opinion of my work took second seat to that welcomed break.

Much to my dismay, the math review brought her red pen to the paper more than I'd expected. She'd “tsk, tsk” as she made what I thought was an excessive amount of “x's”. Then she began her tabulation. The pen would tap each error she'd marked and I was worried. Well, final tabulation was a 87. In other words, I'd not win back anything on that one, but I wouldn't lose anything either.

I wish I could say the paper she had me diagram sentences on started any better. I watched a bit more attentively as she circled things and drew arrows from one place to another. I have to admit, I was not really in tune to the prepositional phrases as I should have been and it showed. Again, the pen tapped each individual error and when finished she came up with 72 percent. Wow, three points from owing her a clothing item, but no loss to me, but no gain either.

She rubbed my now erect penis and manipulated my ball sack as she discussed my mistakes on each paper. She also made it clear that I didn't have much leeway for winning back my clothes that day but she'd try to make such a goal within reach over that day's tutoring session. She'd scheduled three quizzes, but because my underpants and shorts were the last clothing items to be awarded, it was almost impossible for me to leave the session with my parts of interest covered. But, if you do the math as I did, the three quizzes would give me somewhat of a chance—socks, shirt, briefs—in that order.

My work that day included pronouns as objects of prepositional phrases. After the review of what I missed on the homework from the day before and her calm and concise instruction, I was able to pass her quiz on the subject with a 95. Wow, I'd won back my socks. She gave them to me and I quickly put them on. My confidence had been bolstered. The daily spelling test was administered and again I knocked it out of the park—100 percent. It was good to get my t-shirt back, but she still made me sit with it hiked up above my now flaccid penis so she could enjoy the view. Who cared? It was all going my way. I knew math would be the cat's meow and I'd get my briefs.

She put the math quiz in front of me and took a seat across the room as I began. It covered calculating the areas of many assorted geometric forms. Basically, though I'd recalled her instruction in those things, I still was uncertain but I began the task with earnest. Wish I could say I felt confident like I did with the spelling, but I wasn't. Fingers crossed I put my pencil down and reluctantly handed her my paper. I sat frozen as the red pen began making check marks and “x's”. Then the tap, tap, tap of the counting.

She smiled and almost gleefully announced, “Jack, I wish it was better, but all I could squeeze out of this was a 72. Looks like you will be naked below the waist for the entire holiday, but the shirt will give you some cover.”

I pleaded with her telling her we were going to Grandma's and I needed my underpants and shorts, but she was adamant. She insisted that giving in to me once was a 'slippery slope' she wasn't going to begin. I mean I even cried real tears as I begged her to give me another quiz, grade another assignment, anything to try to at least earn my briefs back. A quick look in her eyes told me she was delighted I'd be exposed for the next four days and me trying to change that was futile.

Wish I could say Mom was disappointed, but she was a gleeful as Mrs. Bolton. She wouldn't say it, but you knew. She tried to sound disappointed as she stared at my bare penis and sack, but you could definitely read the smile of utter contentment. Again, I begged with real tears to allow me to wear some covering on my lower half. But, like Mrs. Bolton, she reminded me of the original rules and she refused to consider an exception. “You will go to Grandma's with nothing more than a t-shirt, but, oh, you can wear shoes and socks if you wish.”

Dad came home from work that day. He suggested we pack up and take off that afternoon so he could “put at least two hundred miles behind us” by nightfall. Because I was naked below the waist, Mom packed sandwiches for supper. As she put it I couldn't go into restaurants without my bare ass being covered and sandwiches could be eaten as we traveled. Dad bitched that my poor performance at tutoring that day precluded us from a nice warm sit down supper even at a fast food place. Yeah, he was a little pissed but I ignored it. He suggested we stop at a highway rest area to eat where I'd have to flaunt my genitals before other travelers. That wasn't much to my liking, but I think he wanted to scare me.

The Best Western wasn't big, but it was clean and had a pool. As Dad left the car to register, I found myself scanning the parking lot anticipating having to evade other guests until I got into our room. What came to my immediate attention was a baby-blue, repurposed school bus with “Anthem, NY Boys' and Girls' Club” posted the length of the side. Probably some kind of summer field trip. But, I put that out of my mind. Actually, all was quiet at the motel.

My hope upon hope was we'd get assigned to a first floor room with a parking space directly in front of the room's door. I could quickly jog into the room undetected. Believe me, when your frank and beans are exposed, you tend to find such scheming necessary.

As luck would have it we got room 121. First floor, whew! The parking space directly in front of the door was taken, so we parked two spaces down. The pool, which I definitely wouldn't be using, was just across the blacktop parking area—almost a straight shot. Damn, I wish I'd at least have earn my briefs. If I had, I was convinced I probably could have successfully argued my case to exchange them for my swimsuit.

I slipped into the room without incident. Mom made me remove my socks and t-shirt. I don't know why, but since the tutoring rules were in place, she'd often make me strip nude anyway while we were alone as a family. I could only hope it wouldn't continue at Grandma and Grandpa's, but that was another hundred miles away and I wasn't going to worry about that before we got there.

At about eight o'clock the revelry of our room was broken by the giggling, shouting and talking emanating from the pool area. I pulled the vinyl drapery apart just enough to peek outside to satisfy my curiosity as to what was going on. There must have been twenty or twenty five kids, all girls my age, romping around the pool area. Two adult women sat in lounge chairs overlooking the festivities. It was evident they had been the occupants of the bus that caught my attention when we arrived. Satisfied, I pulled the drapes back together tightly and sat down on the queen sized bed I'd been assigned by Mom and Dad. I pondered where those girls might be going on their field trip.

“Wanna go swimming, Honey?”

That question jogged my thinking. You gotta be shittin' me. Did you just ask if I wanted to saunter out there naked as the day I was born and parade around in front of a hoard of girls? Mom, you smokin' something?

“Naw, I'm tired. I think I'll just stay in the room and watch TV.”

I know she wanted to expose me to those girls.

My suspicions were warranted. Mom got really pushy and said she didn't care what I wanted to do. She was going to take me out there for an hour or two. End of discussion. Dad changed into his bathing suit as did my mother. I was ushered out the door with the warning that I wasn't to cover my penis or scrotum or shield it from sight at any time. As we crossed the parking lot I tried not to look at the gaggle of girls who were at the pool, but halfway across the lot, all the screaming and laughter gave way to almost total silence. When I finally mustered the courage to look their way all I could see was a bunch of staring ten, eleven and twelve year old females and their chaperons. Many had their hands covering their mouths as if to either stifle their giggles or as a reaction to their gasps of surprise.

As we approached the chain link gate, I held the towel so it draped my crotch. Dad grabbed it away and reminded me any more such shenanigans would result in the belt. My stiff penis was pointing out with its full five inches above my retracted ball sack. This was the first audience I'd had to speak of since the whole forced nudity program had begun.

The girls began to point and mumble. It was evident they were pointing directly at my stiff penis. Two of them started the whole cellphone photography thing. Yeah, I was embarrassed. I quickly sat in one of the lounge chairs carefully tucking my boyhood between my thighs. Mom put an abrupt end to that. “Oh no, spread 'em, young man. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Yeah, nothing except that I'm the only kid here who is completely naked. Yeah, I do have some things to be ashamed of. What kid walks around naked? Oh yeah, Mom, yours does. God they're all still staring at me. What happened to the rowdy pool play?

The adult leaders of the girls gave the cursory acknowledgment to my parents, but they gave most of their visual attention to me. I'll tell you my item of interest was nowhere near softening.

One of the leaders announced, “Okay girls better get to swimming, you've got an hour before we go in.” As if the current situation wasn't a little extraordinary. Like naked boys in public places are a dime a dozen.

My thoughts were to get into the pool near the four or five foot depth and just hug the wall for the duration, so that's pretty much what I did. Being quite forward many of my “pool mates” engaged in underwater swimming all around me. Bet the chlorine burned their eyes that night. I have to give credit where credit is due. The girls chaperons often hollered, “Leave that boy alone. He doesn't need you bothering him.” But, yell they might, none of the girls paid much attention to them. It was me who got the attention.

One of the girls came over to me and asked it I wanted to play water tag.

I know what your intentions are. You want me away from the wall and running around so you can enjoy the eye candy. What? You think I'm dumb enough to buy into that game?

“No thanks. I just want to stay here.”

“Why are you naked? You like being naked or something?”

“No, my Mom and Dad like me to be naked. I'm being punished.”

“Geeezzzz, I'd rather get a spanking than have to be naked in front of other people, especially strangers.”

So would I, girl. So would I.

“Can I touch it?”

Holy shit this kid is bold. She actually asked if she could feel my junk.

“What?”

“Your boy thing. Can I touch it?”

“No! Go away! Leave me alone!”

“Okay, okay. I was just asking. I never felt one before.” She swam away looking back at me angrily as she crossed the width of the pool.

Mom approached me, “What was that all about?”

“She wanted to feel my penis. I said, 'no'.”

“If she asks again, you let her. You understand?”

“I don't wan....”

“I don't care what you want. You'll do as you're told. You let any of them feel you penis. Most of them have never felt a boy's penis before. Am I clear?”

“Mooooommmmm?”

“I mean it. Do I have to get Daddy over here?”

“No.”

“You wouldn't be naked tonight, if you had worked harder this past week. If you don't want people to see you naked or to touch your boy parts work harder. It's all on you, Jack. All on you. Now start swimming some laps. I want you to do at least six back and forth. Go on. You don't need to be hugging the walls.”

I watched as she walked over to the adult women who were supervising the girls. I could see as I pushed off the wall, she was pointing at me and the women were smiling. On my third lap she was leaning over and talking to the girl who'd tried to accost me. As I swam across the pool, a quick glance showed the girl staring at me with an excited look. Most of the others were staring as well. Guess it was the glistening backside I was flashing that mesmerized them.

After my sixth crossing, I found myself at the steps in the shallow end. The girl approached. “Your Mom said I could feel it if I wanted.”

Nice of you to warn me.

With her newfound authority she wasted no time reaching down and grasping my stiffy. She tugged on it like she was going to tow me across the pool. Other girls quickly accumulated to watch their friend accost me. Others were asking for a turn. I'd guess as many as three hands were fishing around my erect penis and ball sack at a time. Lots of giggling and even commenting so there was no mistaking what they were grabbing below the surface of the water. My mother and father just looked on and smiled knowing full well what the girls were doing. For some reason the women chaperons were turning a blind eye to it all as well.

I chose to swim laps again just to keep the girls from their feeding frenzy. If I kept moving they weren't able to strangle my penis or pinch the contents of my scrotum. It turned out to be a means to minimize my embarrassment and humiliation.

After an hour of that nonsense I begged Mom and Dad to let me go in and watch television. I lied and told them I was tired. I wasn't but that complaint usually resulted in being dismissed to bed. I had to get away from the attention of the girls.

I bet they will be talking about the naked boy they got to see and feel when they stayed at the motel. I'll bet none of them will tell their parents what they did. If they do those chaperons may be in a heap of shit for allowing it.

I was allowed to dry off in front of the audience and make my way back to our room. My penis flopped back and forth as it stuck out straight and hard. As I left, the girls were called from the pool and they too were soon to return to their rooms.

The following morning, Dad mentioned there was a continental breakfast in the motel lobby. He asked if I wanted to go and get something to eat. With a taunting wink, he said I might even bump into some of the girls from the pool.

How insensitive can you be? I'm naked here except for my t-shirt and those flip flops Mom gave me. I'm the same kid who wouldn't wear shorts because I felt they exposed too much. Shit Dad, yeah, like I want to publicly flaunt it. Do you really think I enjoyed being manhandled at the pool last night?

I chose the polite response. “No, I can wait until we get to Grandma's.”

I must admit to being curious as to how the motel management or other guests would react to my situation. I do know my bared ass and genitalia would probably be frowned upon in food service areas. Guess I'll never know. I wasn't pressed to go.

We arrived at Grandma and Grandpa's a little after ten that morning. I climbed out of the back seat and pulled my t-shirt down over my exposed genitalia. I intended to continue stretching it to hide my junk from view. Mom, the ever observant one, asked me to carry in one of the suitcases and that was the end of anchoring the hemline of the damned shirt. My boner peeked out from under it and swayed as I walked up the steps to the front porch. Grandma swung the door opened and grabbed and kissed me. She was ecstatic to see us. Then she paused.

“Where are your pants? Did you have an accident or something?”

Mom quickly chimed in that it was a long story and she'd fill her in after we settled. Dad grabbed the other suitcase and we entered the house. Grandpa was seated in his lounge chair, feet up, and watching TV. He hardly ever got out of that chair. I approached for the customary hug and kiss and hoped he'd say something about my state of exposure and he didn't disappoint.

“Hey, Jack, why's your bird flying so freely? Go put some pants on.”

That's when the five of us gathered and Mom told them of the tutoring plan. At first Grandma seemed to disapprove, but the part about making me more comfortable with my body seemed to turn her attitude around. Grandpa was a bit harder sell. He didn't like what was going on and felt a belt would be a better motivator than my clothing. I didn't like that idea either.

Dad said if he used the belt for motivation, I'd be black and blue all the time. He felt it would definitely be abusive to whip me as much as it would take.

Yeah like keeping me naked isn't abusive? But, hell no, I don't want to be beaten with a belt either.

It got interesting as Grandma tried to rescue me from my situation. She asked how I'd be able to spend time with my cousins in my situation. Mom assured her that my cousins might like seeing me naked and might even want to share me with their friends. That comment momentarily took Grandma's breath away. “Share him with their friends?”

Mom was quick to suggest as much public exposure and touching as I could get would be “helpful in getting me to overcome my self-consciousness”. She admitted both she and Mrs. Bolton found it relaxing to “tickle his little boy thing”. Another gasp and look of surprise as she sought clarification as to what exactly that meant.

I sat there in silence staring at the floor. My legs were spread as was required at home and my package was fully exposed. Grandma looked over at me and said if I was going to be naked in her home, I'd have to carry a towel around to sit on so I didn't “mark” her furniture or area rugs.

That evening, Grandma called me to sit next to her. She made me remove the last vestige of modesty, my t-shirt and started lightly tracing her fingernails down my back. This was her signature bonding activity with me. Throughout my childhood, she'd often slip her hand up the back of my shirt and tickle my back. Or she'd put my feet in her lap and rub them and push up my pant legs to rub and knead my calves. I loved it when she did. It felt amazingly good to have her finger nails lightly scraping my skin, especially when she went down the spine to the top of my ass crack. On some occasions she'd momentarily push her hand under my waistband and invade the sanctity of my butt cheeks with a quick light scraping of those nails. For about two seconds I'd feel somewhat violated when she did that, but it soon gave way to a desire for more of the same.

On this particular occasion she freely visited my upper cheeks. I found myself shifting my position to allow her access to more and more of my naked posterior. She took advantage. Surprisingly, I remained flaccid during the stimulation. My mother and father were riveted to the TV as was Grandpa. I tried to get into the broadcast too, but my mind was cleared with the complete enjoyment of the attention Grandma was giving my back and backside. It felt so good I couldn't concentrate.

Mom must have noticed my pleasure. She nudged Dad to look over at me in my bliss. This tickling continued for fifteen minutes the last of which were concentrated on my sit spot rather than my back. Mom and Dad glimpsed over at us at commercial breaks.

At one point my mother suggested, “Mom why don't you roll him over and give his penis some attention.”

With that, Grandpa just glimpsed over at the two of us and quickly returned to watching the commercials. The remark also drew my Dad's attention to what was going on and he just continued to stare. It was as if he was hoping she'd take the invitation and entertain him. I was not too keen on the idea. In fact, it caused me to flatten myself squarely on my stomach and press my legs together in a defensive posture. Not a bad move as it gave Grandma access to the backs of my bare legs. She took full advantage and lightly dragged her nails down both. The tingle made me feel like I was in heaven.

Five minutes later, “I'm serious Mom, you need to do that to the front of his body too. It might help him with some of his problems. You can give his penis and scrotum some attention. Just roll him over.”

“Oh, I don't know. I'm not sure that would be appropriate. I'll do his chest and legs, but I don't think I should do this to his boy parts.”

“See that's the problem here. Puritanical beliefs have permeated our society. We've made those parts exceptional to every other body part. Why should they be any different than his hands or his legs or his back? His penis is a boy accessory and is as much apart of his body as a finger or toe. I know you aren't looking for a sexual encounter. You're his grandmother. Did it bother you to clean those parts when he was little? Did it bother you to rub creams and lotions into his penis and scrotum when he had a rash or just as a preventative? What the hell's the difference. Roll him over and free yourself. He'll like it.”

That whole conversation got Grandpa's attention. “You know I've never looked at it that way. It makes sense. Besides, when you have a stud like me, why would you look for a kid?”

I didn't get it, but the adults all laughed. Dad and Grandpa went back to watching TV. Mom looked over at us like, “well?”

I felt Grandma's hands on either side of my bare backside and she pulled my hips to indicate she wanted me to turn over. I was aware enough to understand the prompt and was a bit bothered by the thought of what was going to happen once I was lying on my back. I had sprung a boner listening to Mom's explanation and it was tight and hard. Both adult females ignored my situation. I slowly moved to cover my hardened appendage and Mom ordered me to keep my hands to my sides. Grandma gently spread my legs improving access. She chose to begin tickling my face. I felt so good I almost forgot I was fully exposed. She then traced down my front stopping at my belly button. Her nails felt very good as they traced down my arms to my hands and over my chest. She told me to “slide up” so my backside was securely in her lap. She now had my boner front and center. I was half expecting an immediate contact to that area, but she instead traced up my shins to the bottom of my groin, still avoiding contact with my genitalia. I'm not going to lie, the sensation from her touch to the rest of my body was quickly giving way to me actually desiring to be fondled. My shyness was dissipating.

My longing was soon after satisfied as Grandma first tickled my scrotum on her voyage from my thighs. It was as if she wanted it to seem inadvertent. I ignored the contact and stared up at the ceiling, but I actually found myself longing for a more substantial contact. Next trip she gave my scrotum a bit more attention and then traced right up my rigid appendage to my knob. As she tickled the tip, she lightly penetrated the slit with one of her fingernails. It scratched a bit. When she released it, my penis bounced back to point at my navel. Then she returned her attention to my upper legs tickling inside both thighs.

Within minutes she was concentrating her entire effort on my boyhood. She rubbed and tickled my erect penis and massaged my scrotum. I had completely lost any desire to defend against her attention and actually found myself enjoying the contact.

This isn't right. She shouldn't be touching me there. I shouldn't be enjoying it, but shit it feels so good! I guess it's okay. I mean it's Grandma, not some stranger. Mom and Dad are right there cheering her on. I think she's enjoying it too. Just lay here and relax.

And, I did.

Mom continued to monitor the situation looking over at us almost every three or four minutes. “See, Mom, it's not so bad.”

The next two nights and often in the afternoon, Grandma would repeat the process. I actually found myself looking forward to it. She'd remove my shirt and I'd plop down across her lap front side up anticipating, no, down deep inviting the genital contact. I made no attempt to cover. On the second day my mother mandated no more shirt. I was to remain completely nude 24/7. “So Grandma doesn't have to keep up with your shirt.”

For some reason my Aunt Betsy and her three kids weren't able to come to Grandmas. I definitely felt like I'd dodged a bullet. Two of those cousins were twin girls my age and the third was a boy of six. I know it was my mother's intention to give the girls complete access to my boyhood. On the trip up she “prepared” me, telling me she was sure the girls would love to “see” me. I know it was only due to my nudity she said it because she emphasized the “see” part. I also knew she would have encouraged them to explore any parts they wished. And, they weren't shy about anything.

The following Monday, Dad dropped me at Mrs. Bolton's on his way to work. As expected I was wearing only a t-shirt and shoes and socks. After a quick kiss and hug for Dad, I ran up the walk to her door. I wanted to limit exposure to her neighbors and passersby.

Then it hit me.

Shit, no bike to use for a quick return home. I'd better be on my toes today. Nothing less than ninety and hopefully she'll give me at least four graded assignments.

(End of File)