Billy and Me in ‘63

* * * * *
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.

* * * * *

In 1963 we boys were still not permitted to hold on to modesty. Swimming at the Boys’ Clubs, YMCA, summer camps and most school pools most often required boys to swim nude. It wasn’t even suits optional. Any prepubescent boy, or for that matter, young teen who was shy about being publicly exposed while swimming was considered to “have a problem”. My sitter that summer was apparently commissioned by my parents to solve my problem.

Billy and Me in ‘63

By, Running Bare

I would turn eleven the summer Billy Klein, a seventeen-year-old neighbor boy, was contracted to “watch” me during the days my parents worked. He was a nice enough kid, but, in my mind, he was still just a kid. That belief would get in my way more than once that summer.

Like most other kids my age, I was into testing the limits. Mom and Dad didn’t give him the authority to use corporal punishment, but, then again, they didn’t think to forbid it either. I guess it was kind of understood that if I misbehaved he could relay that to them and Dad would take the belt to my bare backside when he got home. When it came to pushing limits, Billy seemed to me to be low hanging fruit. I mean it wasn’t six years earlier he was my age so it all added up as I saw it--limited authority, just a few years beyond my age, and the desire to be my “buddy”—opened the door to a whole lot of testing.

As I mentioned in the blurb above, I was rather body shy as a kid. This was seen as an impediment to my development by my parents. I don’t know if it had to do with my legs or my longer than average appendage, but I was shy as hell about exposing too much skin. I swore off shorts when I was nine arguing that real men didn’t wear shorts. They were for kids. Of course, the comments I’d get when Mom forced me to wear the damn things didn’t help. My lower limbs drew many comments which couldn’t help but make a boy self-conscious—“Oh, what perfect little boy legs.”, “Look at those muscular little legs.” “That kid should be in shorts all the time, his legs are perfect.”—You get the idea. Though I’m sure now those comments were intended to be complimentary, when you’re ten or eleven and the brunt of the remarks you get a bit embarrassed.

My penis on the other hand, drew not only some snide comments from people who saw it, but most would often just stare at it—men, women, boys and especially girls. It wasn’t that much longer than average. Really, it wasn’t. But the comments were often comical from adults who complimented my parents on their “well-hung” son. Those too were embarrassing. But, not as much as the remarks from other boys who managed a comparative observation in the locker room at the pool, or bathed or showered with me on sleep-overs.

That said, Mom just got tired of trying to sell me on wearing shorts. She even admitted she liked seeing my “gorgeous boy legs” and sharing their handsomeness with others. Anyway, that summer I was forced to wear short pants every day, everywhere. In fact, she put me in them for school during the last two months of spring. They weren’t the cargo shorts or board shorts that are in style today, nor were they what Grandma called “Bermudas”. These were short-shorts in my mind. The hem at the bottom of the leg openings came halfway up my thighs. They were loose too. The legs were wide opened. So much so, anyone who wore them needed to be sure to wear clean underwear too. And, not only did I get teased a bit about the style, but I could see the girls in class and some boys looking up the legs for a shot of my tighty-whities. Of course, they drew the usual “complimentary” remarks from adults.

My father insisted I take swimming lessons at the YMCA. The only reason I could surmise for his insistence on the Y rather than the community pool was that the Y required all boys to swim naked. Dad loved to force me to flaunt my nudity. I really think he thought doing so was “macho”. Though I’m sure there was a pleasurable element of exercising his control when he forced me to present myself to others naked. He kind of reveled in my embarrassment.

Let me digress a little lower for a minute. I know there are those of you younger guys and gals who question the veracity of that claim the Y rules required nudity, but let me assure you it is true. The Y didn’t change that particular rule until the late sixties or early seventies. Don’t believe me Google it. Unfortunately, 1963 was still in the naked window. Not only were boys required to swim nude at our Y, but mothers, sisters, and I suppose friends of both were permitted to watch us swim. I’d be remiss to not mention that most Boys’ Clubs and school pools required the same thing as well. Yeah, take it from me, for a self-conscious kid the whole situation was devastating.

Now, finally, back to Billy. He would use Mom’s fashion adjustment to take advantage of me.

We were in the woods hunting for reptiles (okay, snakes in particular). I was sitting on a rock next to Billy with my legs drawn up and my chin resting on my knees. He unexpectedly reached over and began gently rubbing my calves. I really didn’t question that, thinking he was just being comforting. Eventually, as we talked, he took the ankle of my left leg and straightened it out across his lap and continued the massage as he talked about the day. I enjoyed the feel of his hands as he slid the back and forth over my knee and back and upper leg. But, I be lying if I didn’t say it made me feel a little awkward.

It wasn’t until he progressed to the inside of my thigh that I began to suspect an ulterior motive. My first impulse was to stand up and get the show rolling again. But there was an alternate impulse to spread my legs further apart giving him easier access to my thighs. I must admit, shy as I was about my body, the thought that he might progress to my crotch was a bit arousing to me. My penis stiffened. The battle of impulses continued for a few minutes and on each successive contact his hands began encroaching on the territory just under the leg openings of my short-shorts. These intrusions had me confused as to whether to draw my legs together again and deny access to where I was increasingly sure he was going, or spread them inviting full access to my now hardened penis. My state of arousal and curiosity drove me to choose the latter.

As I sat there, I almost purposely signaled permission to continue. But, something inside me kept suggesting I should just stand up and redirect his attention elsewhere. There was a problem though. My “snake” had stiffened and I was concerned rising would highlight a prominent tent in the front of those shorts. So, I just sat there, legs spread, and allowed Billy’s hands to creep closer and closer to my “tent pole”.

Each successive pass his hand inched further under the leg of my shorts. My breathing and heart rate were very elevated. I considered letting him know I was aware of his intentions and even pulling my shorts off to indicate my willingness to cooperate. But I didn’t. My modesty was still pulling me in the other direction.

Eventually, his fingers slid under the leg openings of my briefs. He began brushing against my scrotum and erect penis. All the time acting unaware of where his hands were. He grew bolder and bolder eventually engulfing my penis with his hand and rubbing it. I want to say I felt violated, but that isn’t true. I was thoroughly enjoying the rush of having my circumcised knob polished.

Over the next five minutes, Billy didn’t attend to my legs at all. Once he’d grasped the penis and massaged my scrotum, without the slightest objection from me, he didn’t remove his hand from inside my shorts. Then it happened. I never felt I would have allowed such an intrusion, but I did. Billy said, “You know if you take off your shorts and underpants, I can really rub you there easier.”

Rather than wait for my decision, he grasped the top of my shorts. This kid who was so damned body shy instantly succumbed to the seventeen-year old’s pull on the elastic waistband. As he slid them down, I just lifted my backside off the rock to allow total removal. Immediately, he was back at my waist pulling my Fruit-of-the-Looms down and off. As the waist band of my briefs cleared my pubis my boner literally bounced into view. The length of my penis was clearly maxed out. My prominent glans felt as if it was going to pop right off my shaft. It was very sensitive as well. When Billy spent a moment to play with it, shivers travelled up my spine. So much for modesty.

As I looked down at my stiffy I couldn’t help but notice my scrotum was loose enough to highlight my marbles. Apparently, Billy noticed as well and momentarily chased my nads around their purse with his fingers. He again engulfed my penis with his hand. I had a sudden jolt of reality. We were in an open wooded area of a well visited state park. What if someone came by?

As I entertained that concern, without notice, Billy took the bottom of my t-shirt and pulled it up to my chin. I raised my arms to allow him to finish disrobing me. This body shy boy was now completely naked in a public venue. Though it seemed remote, there were no guarantees someone wouldn’t happen by. That didn’t stop Billy. He fingered my balls and finally impaled my butt hole with his index finger. Now, that was uncomfortable. I squirmed and told him it made me want to fart when he did that. I’d never had anyone enter the exit hole before unless, of course, you count one of the enemas my grandmother gave me years earlier. I didn’t really enjoy either insertion.

“Well, let’s go and find us some snakes.” Was he kidding? I was naked. “Hey, maybe we could go down to the stream and you could wiggle your worm and we could catch a fish!” Ha! Ha! Very funny! “No, I’m serious, lets go and catch some snakes.”

I explained that I wasn’t exactly dressed for tromping around the woods to catch snakes. I also called his attention to the fact that we could be discovered at any time and that could mean trouble for both of us.

Billy gathered up my clothes. I thought he was going to hand them to me. He didn’t. He explained that he wanted me to spend a few hours naked. He rubbed my pubic area and said that a boy without hair shouldn’t worry about being seen naked. Teasing that suggested I was still just a little kid. All well and good, but this hairless kid with the raging hard-on didn’t want to be seen by anyone. It was evident his sitter didn’t share that concern.

As we walked toward the stream, I kept a watchful eye out for signs of life—human life. I was definitely concerned we’d be discovered.

After two uneventful hours, Billy made me lay down so he could massage my lower extremities again. I complied. Damned, having him massage my genital area felt good. Then he threw my clothes to me. It didn’t take me long to get dressed.

“You know I think every day I watch you, I want you to spend time naked. I kind of like playing with your wiener. In fact, I like looking at you while you’re naked. So, we’re gonna’ do something like this every day.”

That was a bit too far for me. It felt good today, but I wasn’t ready for something like that every day. The more I thought about it, the possibility of being caught by someone else just added to my excitement. There was something about it that told me it’d be really devastating, but, on the other hand, I kind of wanted to be “found”. Problem was my better angel was still solidly in the circle of consultants. The thought of doing this every day was still a non-starter as far as I was concerned. I kept that thought to myself.

Something unbelievable happened that afternoon when Mom got home. She asked how our day went. Billy openly said, “Well I made Jack hike around in the park naked all day. We looked for snakes and his was out for at least three hours.”

How many mothers wouldn’t have been appalled that her son was made to walk around naked for the better part of the day? Not Mom, she actually complimented him. She thanked him for doing to me what she felt was long needed. She actually said, “He needs more of that. Maybe he’ll lose some of that modesty.”

I dropped my jaw. Mom just told me it was time for me to accept my “beautiful body” and she thought Billy’s behavior that day was perfect.

It wasn’t three days later we were again in the park. I remember hiking a few hundred yards to a swirling pool in the stream. The water looked a bit deeper than the stream itself and I was curious as to its depth. Both of us removed our shoes and socks and waded out to knee depth. It was hardly the extent of how deep the pool was. Billy, told me to wade back to shore so he could go to the car and get some towels he’d brought with him. Leaving me on the bank he told me not to go in the water until he got back from the car. He, maturely, said he wanted to make sure there were two of us when we went into the water. Something he learned at the YMCA lifesaving program.

As he walked toward the car, my curiosity got the best of me. I mean what could it hurt to at least wade out to the depth we’d already experienced? Looking over my shoulder and seeing he’d disappeared from sight, I re-entered the water. As the coldness of the pool surrounded my legs six inches above my knee, I found myself staring down into the depths. I could actually see fish swimming around. The water was so clear, but also so cold. Before I could retreat to the shore to hide my rule breaking behavior, I heard Billy’s voice. It was the first time he’d ever yelled at me. Apologetically, I waded back to shore. He was still pissed. He immediately grabbed my shorts and rather roughly yanked them down. “Step out of them!!” He was still angry as he yanked my briefs off so violently the elastic waist separated from the cotton garment. I was scared, it was almost as if he had gone rogue beyond predictability. He grabbed my shirt and yanked it up. I was in no position to fight its removal so I raised my arms.

He launched into a lecture about doing what he told me. He stressed how I could have drown while he was gone. As he talked he removed his belt from the loops of his cutoffs, doubled it, and, to my astonishment, began whipping my bare backside. Like I said earlier, I don’t recall Mom or Dad giving him permission to use corporal punishment, but I was sure under the circumstances they’d have supported his effort.

Having made at least ten stripes on my ass with that damned belt, he stopped. He took a breath and seemed to return to normal. I stood there naked, tears still trickling down my cheeks, and penis on the rise. After fifteen or twenty minutes, Billy hadn’t made any attempt at fondling me. I think he was still a bit perturbed with what I’d done. He asked if I wanted to wade out again or even swim. I almost forgivingly did so.

Later that very morning, I sat next to him on a grassy spot along the shore. Still completely naked, but with a flaccid penis, he suggested I lay back and let the sun dry me off. Arms folded behind my head and staring at the clouds in the blue sky above, I spread my legs in an attempt to invite his fondling. Just thinking about it, made my penis straighten. I did have in the back of my mind the fact that this pool of water twenty feet in front of us might be a popular spot for people to come swim and that increased my anxiety a bit. Billy’s hands caressed my chest and stomach, but it wasn’t long before he was playing with his newfound toys. I wasn’t as hesitant as I’d been earlier in the week when he made his first move.

As I lay there enjoying the stimulation, my mind drifted to the possibility of making him force me to expose myself to complete strangers. It was one of those, I sure as hell don’t want him to do that to me thoughts which wrestled openly with I sure hope he does. Just the thought I’d be forcefully exposed to someone else was very arousing. As his closed hand slid up and down my shaft working me to the brink of a dry orgasm I plotted ways to guide him to that decision.

I stopped and sat up, which caused him to release his hold on my penis. “Hey, can I get dressed now?”

It was my sincerest hope he’d say “No!” So, I had to give him a reason to do so.

I offered him a hook, “Or, do I have to stay naked as punishment for disobeying you?”

He pondered the thought. I was hoping for him choosing to further punish me in the way I had led him. I could actually see him mulling his decision around. He got a smirk on his face.

“You know, I think you should stay naked. I think I tore your shorts when I took them off and I know your underwear is ripped to shreds. No, you stay naked and think about your behavior.”

As much as I hated the idea that I would be exposed to other people, much less made to allow them to touch me, I wanted it to happen. It’s funny but I can’t explain the dichotomy of it all. You don’t want to be shown to others, but you actually do want it.

“What if somebody comes by and sees me? It’d be embarrassing. Do you really want that? I mean what does disobeying you have to do with making me stay naked?”

Thankfully, he seemed to ignore me. I decided to up the stakes a bit. “I’ll bet if someone comes by and sees me naked, you’d tell them to feel my junk too. Wouldn’t you?”

He just smiled as if to encourage me to bury myself further. I’m sure he wasn’t aware that I was motivated from the depths of my dark side to encourage him to do just that. Still he said nothing.

“Are you going to make me stay naked all day? Come on, Billy, give me my clothes. Look the shorts aren’t that torn.” I held them up for him to look at. I was playing with fire in that he just might tell me I could put them on. Doing so might kill my game.

He just smirked, “No, you stay naked all day. If someone comes by, oh well! By the way, if someone does come by, no hiding your dick and balls. You’d better be showing all to them. Got it? If you do, I’ll whip your ass again. Understand?”

I had to play put out by the sentence. “Come on, Billy. Please let me get dressed. Don’t do this to me. I can’t stay naked all day.”

He smirked again and gathered up my clothes.

“I’ll tell my parents. They’ll fire you.”

“Go ahead. Your mom likes me to make you stay naked. I think she’ll agree. And, your dad will be pissed you disobeyed me when I told you not to go in the water until I was with you. I’ll take my chances. Tell them whatever you want.”

My guilt over shaping my predicament would never give me latitude to tell on him anyway. But the hormonal release I was having with the forced nudity just insured I wouldn’t. There was something exciting and naughty rolling around my psyche and I kind of enjoyed it. In the back of my mind, I kind of hoped it was the beginning of an erotically eventful summer.

That afternoon, when Billy brought me home now clad only in my shorts, I decided I’d roll the dice and act embarrassed and repentant at the same time. Both Mom and Dad were home and in the kitchen. As we entered and Mom noticed the torn leg on my white shorts she asked the usual mother thing, “How’d you tear your shorts?” I shrugged, but Billy fessed-up.

“I tore them. I was angry with something he did and I tore them when I took them off him so I could take a belt to his backside. I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t help it. He scared the hell out of me. And, oh, his underpants were completely ruined.”

It caught both parents’ interest. “What did he do?”

He went through the whole incident without embellishment or leaving out details. Dad responded to the belting situation with a “Good for you, Billy. He needed that.” I was a bit shocked that they were condoning the whipping, but both did. Then, I decided to test their limits for him, and told them of being forced to be naked all day. Surely, that would be too much even for Mom to take.

“Behaviors have consequences. Disobey and get your clothes torn during punishment, and I guess you had to forgo the clothes, huh?” Mom led Dad’s reaction. He didn’t speak, just stared at me as if to express his disappointment.

Billy responded with a red face. “I just wanted to help you deal with his other problem so I made him stay naked so he would lose some of his shyness. I think making him stay naked hurt more than the whipping. Again, I’m sorry if that was something you wouldn’t have approved of.” He was really embarrassed and concerned about my parents’ response. His body language made it undeniable.

“No, Billy, that’s fine.” Dad???? WTF??? “A little humbling, but boys shouldn’t be shy about being naked. Nothing to be shy about, everyone knows what boys look like down there.”

I left that conversation aroused and confused. Boy, had I envisioned their responses to it all to be a bit more conservative, especially about the forced nudity. And, Mom? What was with her suggestion that next time maybe some photos of me naked in the park might be a good thing to have? Really? Pictures of me naked for all to see? And, her subtle suggestion that most of them be frontal? Hard to figure whether she was trying to frighten me into better behavior or suggesting forced nudity be imposed more often. Either way, I guess the whole supposition mothers were asexual when it came to young boys was a bit of a fallacy, huh.

I hated the whole idea she was indirectly encouraging more naked occasions, but something inside me found the thought rousingly enticing at the same time. I could almost feel a hormonal flood as my penis began to straighten out. As the discussion went on, Billy had gone from what I’d call timid and uncertain in the beginning to an excited participant especially after Mom and Dad expressed very little concern about how he handled disciplining me that day.

It was clear my attitude toward exposure before others was now under challenge. Things that were discussed in that session put me under a great deal of stress. It wasn’t until hours afterward as I lay on my bed, hand down my shorts, unconsciously playing with my penis, I tried to justify their interest in forcing me to be nude. I even went so far to try to justify it by thinking maybe I’d come out the other side of this experience a bit more casual about my body like the other boys in the locker room. But, I wondered how many of even those boys would be cooperative with being forced into public nudity, exposed to everyone, even complete strangers. Not many I was sure. After all we weren’t six years old any more.

The thought of being naked like that scared me and at the same time gave me a sense of excitement. My imagination kicked in as I mentally ran through many scenarios of Billy punishing me the following day. Needless to say, such thoughts fed my erection for an hour or so.

Maybe, I could succumb to his massage sessions as I’d done that morning. If he didn’t make me strip naked so he could more easily attend to my bare genitals and backside, I could just automatically strip for him as if my nudity for that activity was a requirement. Oh, no, I’m sure he’ll tell me to take my clothes off, or, even better, he’d undress me like he had that morning.

After he finished his “helping me relax” and threw me the shorts to put on, I could suggest, if I stayed naked the whole time he could rub me whenever he thought I needed it. That way we wouldn’t have to wait for me to get naked. Truth is I wasn’t sure I could go that far with this stuff, but I thought about it. One benefit was volunteering to stay naked would circumvent having to disobey him and be whipped with the belt to get to the forced nudity. Unlike in the stories of many other boys, I wasn’t a fan of getting my ass beaten. Yeah, I’d usually come out of a belting with an erection, but pain wasn’t necessary for that to happen. For me, forced nudity was just as much an aphrodisiac as spanking.

What happened in the kitchen just the day before seemed to empower Billy. It was as if he wasn’t nearly as guarded about my nudity. What definitely was a fear of being caught with a naked eleven-year-old in his care the afternoon before, had evolved to being emboldened by the security that he had parental permission to do it the next morning.

To some extent my parents’ approval even eased my fear of consequences for such behavior as well, but not enough to welcome such an occurrence. I still had a fear of being exposed to other people.

He came by in his parents’ car to pick me up for another excursion to the park. I ran out to join him in my required regalia—short-shorts, t-shirt, ankle socks and athletic shoes—but this time sans underwear (which surprisingly was my idea). I was excited about spending another day in the woods, but was also excited at the prospect I’d be once again forced into nudity. I still held on to the thought I didn’t want it, but there was something very pleasurable about doing it. I knew, after yesterday, my nudity was definitely going to happen.

As I got into the front seat, I spread my legs, and purposely, but nonchalantly, pulled the leg of the shorts up allowing my glans and about an inch of my erect penis shaft to be fully exposed to Billy. All the while I acted completely oblivious to the exposure. I saw him visually attend to it, but he made no move to fondle it. We were off.

As we entered the otherwise vacant parking area by the trail to our “swimming hole”, that pool we’d explored the day before, Billy told me I could just leave my shirt in the car. I willingly took it off and threw it into the back seat. He didn’t open his door. He just kind of sat there staring out the windshield momentarily. “Maybe you should leave your shoes and socks too. I mean there’s nothing out there you need them for and we’ll probably be wading anyway.” I was quick to shed them.

Never occurred to me to suggest he might want to leave his shirt, shoes and socks too. He wasn’t going to need them either. But, I didn’t think of it.

I knew what was next on his mind, but I wasn’t sure I didn’t want to make him earn it. My heart was quick to pick up a faster beat as I considered his next move. My breathing rate also increased. I could feel my face as it became warmer anticipating his next order. It didn’t come. He opened his door and said, “Well, let’s go.”

That was so unexpected I actually vocalized what was on my mind. I couldn’t believe I actually said, “Don’t you want me to leave my shorts here too? It would be less things to carry around.” I was shocked, but apparently so was he. I quickly followed up with, “You’re going to make me be naked anyway, aren’t you?”

He just repeated I should get out so we could get started. I was very surprised. I got to keep the shorts on. I got out and closed the door as Billy waited in front of the car for me to join him. Almost as a second thought, he said, “You know what…” and pulled my shorts down. My hard-on bounced once or twice and settled in a position parallel to the ground. “I think you’re right. We’ll leave your shorts in the car. You can be naked for the day.”

The day? That was a bit bold. I mean an hour or two was worth the risk, but the day.

I felt his hand engulf my erection and with a firm tug he propelled me forward toward the stream. I must say, until we reached the tree line, I kept looking over my shoulder to ensure I we weren’t being watched. Each time I looked the view was as quiet as the lot was when we arrived. Nobody else around.

It wasn’t much over and hour later that the ranger happened by quietly and suddenly. Luckily, I was waist deep in water, but had forgotten how clear the water was. I could see in her eye that she had no doubt about my state of dress. Yes, I said her. Billy waded out toward her in what I’m sure was an attempt to cast her attention to him and away from me. Maybe I was wrong about him gaining courage from Mom and Dad the afternoon before. I continued to stay waist deep but was now cupping my boyhood with both hands under the surface. I’m sure my face was beet red even though the water temperature was very cold.

The ranger asked for Billy’s name and he told her. Then she hollered out to me. She told me to come out of the water and motioned me toward her. I was not liking the whole thing. Then she shouted, “Young man, come out here now!” I waded out still cupping my penis and balls. My nudity wasn’t even remotely questionable as my knees cleared the surface. I wandered toward the two of them.

As I stood there, she ordered me to put my hands to my side. I did so. Luckily the cold water had helped my penis behave itself and I stood there with both it and my sack sucked up tight. The young ranger looked out from beneath the rim of her Smoky-the-Bear hat at my package. Without comment about my nudity, she asked our ages. Billy told her seventeen and that he was my sitter for the summer. I told her I was eleven. She then went into a discussion about swimming without an adult present and how the “pool” we were in got deep in the middle. She asked if we both knew how to swim. I remember thinking, she’s got a naked kid standing in front of her and she’s acting as though there was nothing out of the ordinary. Billy was quite polite “yes ma’aming” her the whole time, I just stood there embarrassed to be displaying my goods, to not just a strange female, but a law enforcement representative as well.

“Jack, you did say Jack, didn’t you?” She addressed me. I nodded nervously. “Don’t you have some shorts or a swimsuit to put on?”

Before I could answer Billy interjected, “He likes to swim naked. His parents are okay with it, too.”

She looked at me again and her eyes spent and inordinate amount of time locked on my penis. “Well, there are other people who might happen by and I don’t want you to be embarrassed, but if it’s what you want… You boys be careful. We don’t need anyone drowning on my watch. Got it?”

Yeah, it was that easy. She was completely okay with my nudity. She left us and got back in her jeep and left. I could have sworn we’d be arrested, and she’d contact Mom and Dad about what was going on, but nope. Just visually examined my naked form, cautioned us, and left. Her lack of pushing the issue of my nudity really empowered Billy, and, in a strange way, took some of my thrill of being exposed away too. Maybe my parents were right, nobody cared, and everyone knows what naked boys look like.

Billy had his mother make some sack lunches for our outing. At mid-day he told me we needed to go to the car and get them. I think the ranger visit truly did embolden him as he insisted I walk to the car with him. I plead the case of my nakedness and he said he didn’t care if people saw me, in fact, he said he hoped they did. He also remarked that I was to keep my hands away from what we both knew everyone would want to see under the treat of his belt.

Even though there was another vehicle parked in the lot when we got there, the walk to his car was uneventful. I breathed a sigh of relief. The occupants of the other could be on any number of trails, but they weren’t there or at the pool. Billy made me stand behind the trunk facing the roadway and reiterated his caution about me covering anything. I felt very vulnerable, who wouldn’t. “Come on Billy, hurry up. Somebody’s going to see me.”

He allowed me to join him again, handed me a paper bag containing my lunch, and we walked back toward the stream. At first, I hadn’t noticed, but he had his lunch in one hand and a camera in the other. It wasn’t much of a camera, but a camera none the less.

“What do you have that for?”

“Your Mom. Your Mom wanted me to take pictures of you naked. Don’t worry I only have enough film to take 24 pictures. Not that much. I wanted to bring my Dad’s Polaroid, but we didn’t have any film for it. Maybe next time, after your folks pay me, I’ll get some film.”

A few steps later he continued, “After we eat, I want to massage you. Then we’ll work on some pictures for your mother.” Then almost jokingly, “And remember she wants most of them to show your front, so…”

Again, I have to think anyone who suggests mothers don’t like to advertise their sons’ boy toys is probably wishful thinking. Motivated by pride or some kind of sexual voyeurism, I have to suspect a little pleasure is derived by women showing off their sons’ naked bodies. It would be hard to find any parents who don’t have images of their boys naked as the day they were born—swimming, in the yard, or in the tub—but most don’t depict the bare kid after his seventh or eighth year of age. I was eleven.

I must admit, Billy, played with my junk for about a half hour, which was not long in my estimation. After cooling off the erection he’d stimulated in the cold water of the stream, we returned to the car. He decided I was to stay naked until we got home. That wouldn’t have been too problematic except the other thing he insisted on was a trip through McDonald’s drive-in window to pick up a couple of Cokes. And, as you probably guessed, he wanted me to sit legs spread and hand clasped behind my head until we were exiting the lot. That meant a total show at the first window where they took our money and at the second window where they handed him the Cokes. It was difficult to do that, but I did. The middle-aged lady who took the money saw me, did a double take, but gave Billy his change without a word about it. The teenaged boy at the delivery window wasn’t as charitable.

“Wow, kid. What’s with being naked? Is he some kind of pervert or something?”

Why would I be a pervert? I didn’t decide on providing the show. Billy was making me do it. Why would I be the pervert?

“If I wasn’t on the clock, I’d come out there and fill your tight little poop chute with somethin’ I got for ‘ya!”

Now, that remark was just uncalled for, but, hey, the kid thought he had to protect his manhood with some kind of macho threat. None the less, it scared the hell out of me. Truthfully, I had no idea then about what he meant by fill my poop chute. If I had, his threat would have scared me even more.

Billy took to my/our defense, “Oh yeah, who’d be the pervert then, Asshole! What’s the matter never seen a little kid naked before?”

I didn’t take kindly to the “little kid” remark but other than that I was impressed that Billy could counter with such a vengeance.

When we got home, Billy told Mom and Dad about our experiences at the park. He mentioned the ranger’s visit. Dad was a bit uneasy as he asked about the particulars of that encounter. He was somewhat relived when Billy explained she was perfectly fine with me being naked. Mom was excited about the photographic experience Billy described. She offered to take the film to be developed. (In 1963 candid photos of naked boys weren’t questioned. They were developed, printed, enlarged, etc. with impunity. About the only question she might get is “Your boy?” as a precursor to some kind of compliment.)

Incredibly, the following Fall, my locker room experiences became a bit less threatening. Maybe it was the amount of exposure Billy (and my parents) subjected me to almost daily. Yes, there were strangers who would see me naked. Yes, sometimes they comment. Sometimes they’d take pictures. They always spent some sometime staring. But, the only actual touch contact was the massages I got from Billy, Mom and a couple of Billy’s friends from school. They all gave special attention to my penis, scrotum and what the McDonald’s kid called my “poop chute” when they rubbed me.

Billy, hit me with that belt three or four times during the summer, and, in all but one circumstance, I deserved it. But I lived.

I did contemplate him being contracted to take care of me on my twelfth summer as well. I hadn’t established any pubic hair, so I’m sure Mom considered me still a kid. That wasn’t to be though. She and Dad decided to let me try to stay home alone. I was given my Aunt Lacy’s and next door neighbor’s phone numbers and winged it on my own. Mrs. Donaldson, the neighbor, had been privy to my nudity every now and then throughout my eleventh year and was more than willing to take care of massaging me if Mom wished her to do so. I wasn’t to the point that was acceptable to me, but Mom said it wasn’t up to me. Aunt Lacy, on the other hand, was given complete permission to force me to strip whenever she wanted and even though I wasn’t in agreement I was to succumb to any touching she wanted to do. Let’s just say Aunt Lacy wasn’t a slouch when it came to polishing my knob. She also wasn’t a bit shy about making me exhibit myself in front of her women friends.

For those of you who might be wondering, and I speak from experience, forcing nudity on ten, eleven, and twelve-year-old boys definitely helps them shed any modesty they might have.

(End of File)