Confessions of a Voyeuristic Mother Part 11

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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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Confessions of a Voyeuristic Mother Part 11

Seducing Sammy

At the time described by this account, I was the mother of one twelve year old daughter, Mary Ellen. The year before, August of ’71, my husband Ralph was killed in a car wreck. I didn’t ever entertain remarrying as his sudden death had left me in a long lasting state of mourning.

My sister, Valerie had recently finalized her divorce. She wasted no time shopping for a replacement. In 1971 such a quick divorce recovery was suspect, but Val waved criticism off with an, “I don’t give a shit what other people think” attitude. I suppose that included Mom, Dad and me as well, because it did give us some concern.

In the summer of 1972 Val asked me to take care of my then ten year old nephew, Sam, for a month, while she and her latest flame travelled Europe. Her younger boy, seven year old Robby, was spending the first half of the month at a church sponsored summer camp. He was to be picked up after camp by our mom and dad and would spend the remaining two weeks with them. Valerie didn’t want to “impose” on me by leaving me with both. But, what the hell, two aren’t going to cause me much more trouble than one. Oh, well!

Sam was a month from celebrating his eleventh birthday. Robby, a real cutie as well, for some reason, wasn’t as physically as intriguing to me as his older brother. Shortly after being dropped off, the boy sat cross-legged innocently playing with a model car on my living room floor. I don’t know what was driving my desire as I stared at the kid’s beauty, but as his thirty one year old aunt, I was literally mesmerized not only with the child’s shapely, muscular appendages, but I was particularly drawn to his tan line three quarters of the way up his smooth thighs. Thank God, for the short shorts worn by most young boys of the sixties and seventies. It was the sight of those well-tanned bare legs and those annoying pale transitions that put me on the quest to see what I could do to erase them. I could only imagine how pale his penis, scrotum and backside were and how much I’d enjoy rectifying their lack of color as well.

Sammy was always an eye catcher to me. His short cropped black hair framed his beautifully shaped oval face. When he smiled his hazel eyes twinkled above a perfect set of teeth which were centered between two slight dimples. The kid’s dark complexion always took to the ultraviolets like a duck to water. He tanned very quickly, but, as with everyone else, only in areas that were exposed to sunlight.

I must admit in the genital department, there was no doubt Sammy was all boy. It’d been three years since I’d been treated to the sight of his nude body. During his earlier years, I was always eager to see his comparatively long boy appendage draped over his ball purse. He had been so unself-conscious back then that his cleanly trimmed penis head rarely stood up and pointed forward during those times. Val and I would occasionally massage his boy parts just to see how long that little pecker could get after it got excited. We’d both girlishly giggle as his little woody would flop around and he’d just nonchalantly go on with his activity as if nothing was happening. But those days had been replaced with a boy who adamantly desired his privacy that would challenge my ardent desire to see, feel and tan that hidden boy toy. Neither of us had a clue as to why this almost sudden transition in modesty occurred. Since then, on more occasions than I can count, my imagining his humiliation from public exposure became overwhelmingly arousing to me.

We weren’t sure as to where his modesty got its start. I mean those days were well prior to the “good touch, bad touch” propaganda currently being taught in schools. In fact, back then boys were compelled to swim naked and even open their naked forms to any adult who demanded it. The YMCA, Boys Clubs and even some schools hadn’t yet abandoned the requirement that boys (but not girls) swim nude. Regardless, Sammy was definitely abnormal in his guardedness especially at such an early age.

As I stated earlier, the sight of my “favorite” nephew’s tan lines set me on a quest. That summer, 1972, the boy would even out that tan in the short month I’d have him by hook or crook. My plans were to be as stealthy about it as possible in disrobing him. I’d have him back to his seven year old openness by the time Valerie returned one way or another. I snapped out of my trance and asked Sammy if I could have a hug. He shrugged his shoulders, picked up his car, and presented himself to allow his doting aunt a quick squeeze and kiss.

Mary Ellen, he and I were settled in the living room that evening. Mary Ellen was seated in a side chair with both legs draped over the arm. Sammy was laying on the couch head propped on one cushion and a space just adequate for me to sit between the other end of the sofa and his feet. I quickly occupied that space. Both he and Mary Ellen were engaged in the program on TV and I acted interested as well and I picked up one of Sammy bare feet and began rubbing it. My touch was accepted without any consternation on his part. In fact, he slid toward me enough to plop both feet in my lap. My female juices started flowing as I moved from his feet and gently kneaded his firm calf muscles. I wanted so much to bring some attention to those smooth thighs, but had to make it look like a natural extension of what I was doing, so I concentrated on his feet and claves for a half hour. Each time I’d work toward his knees, my hands would reach a little higher. I slowly made my way toward the tan lines without any objection from him. The mild objection came as I slid my fingertips under the hem on the legs of his shorts. He just wiggled a bit and tried to pull the legs of his shorts further down. I, of course, wanted them to go the other way.

I continued pretending to give my attention to the TV show and making it appear any movement of my hand under his jogging shorts and up higher on his leg was completely unconscious. After another half hour of my slow creep, he became more accepting. By that time the tips of my fingers were no strangers to the “tighty whitie’s” elastic bands hugging the girth of his legs. All I could think about each time I invaded the area was how close my fingers were to his tight little scrotum. The only question running through my mind was whether I’d be allowed to push my fingertips under the hem of his briefs. Would he object? How would Mary Ellen, who at the time was oblivious to my activity, take it if Sammy made a scene?

My fingertips nudged the leg of his briefs upward and Sammy quietly but rapidly shifted to his side in an effort to divert my intrusion. It was then I noted the tenting in his shorts. He had a boner. I smiled to myself as I continued to massage the side of his tight smooth leg. In an effort to take his mind off my intentions I suggested if he took his shirt off I could do his back. He complied without comment. I’m sure his intention was to change the focus of my attention. I positioned him face down across my lap and hoped he would continue to attend to the television rather than the massage. So far Mary Ellen had shown no curiosity as to what I was doing.

The boy’s back was as tan as his legs. The border of his shorts revealed the tan contrasting the paleness that lie below. The boy’s shoulder blades added a curious excitement to my massage process. But there was an irresistible attraction to that damned waistband. It wasn’t long until I made a smooth, calculated pass where my fingertips slipped beneath the elastic of both his shorts and underwear and passed over the tops of his mounds. Surprisingly, the boy didn’t react to my trespass. He just lay there and stared blankly at the TV. His lack of noticeable reaction emboldened me on my next pass as I slid my hand deeper down on his young boy cheeks. Again, no reaction. I continued to massage his back eventually working my hands down to the point where I kneaded his unprotected backside. It wasn’t long before I had taken his submission to mean I had unrestricted access and was eventually sliding my hand over his mounds to the point my hand was coming out the bottom hem of his shorts on both legs. I could feel his stiff little shaft as it pressed against my leg so I knew I was having the desired response.

Dare I go so far as to attend to his young crack? Or should I be lucky enough to attend to that tight little anus with my index finger? I was breathing irregularly and could feel a lump in my throat. I had accomplished covered but unrestricted access to the back half of the boy’s beautiful body. I causally suggested if he removed his shorts I could do a better job with my massage. I stressed he could keep his underpants on, but it would be easier if he took his shorts off. Sammy quickly declined that idea. He just lay there and said he’d rather keep his shorts on.

I couldn’t help but notice that suggestion did catch Mary Ellen’s attention. She cast a definite look of interest just before Sam gave his response.

I continued to massage my nephew’s bare back, and slide my hand between the elastic on his shorts. He continued to allow me to glide my hand over the entirety of his bare backside and even down his crack. I swallowed at one point and lightly pressed my index tip against his hole. Sam immediately flexed his cheeks as a silent warning to me that he was vigilant to the intrusion. So as not to spook him, I quickly withdrew it and continued to work his mounds.

Thirty more minutes of back and backside massage and I considered my gains for the night incredibly successful. I playfully planted a couple of swats on his shorts and suggested I had to go out to the kitchen for a drink. The boy wiggled his way off my lap and as he did I felt the unmistakable firmness of his erection. Tomorrow was another day and my goal stepped up to having him strip to his underwear the following night. Perhaps I’d meet with success as Mary Ellen would be spending the night at a friend’s house.

Sam and I finished dinner. He asked if he could watch a show that was to begin at eight that night. I suggested that while I cleaned up the dishes, he go and get his shower and ready for bed so he wouldn’t have to interrupt his viewing time. The method to my madness was that the boy slept in his briefs, and, having showered, I half expected him to report to the living room in nothing but. Apparently his unreasonable modesty was still at work. He showed up wearing a pair of jogging shorts over his Fruit of the Looms. In my disappointment, I just short of ordered him to take the shorts off so he’d be ready for bed. He reluctantly did so and as directed took them back up to his room.

As he entered the living room I patted the couch next to me to signal my desired seating plan. He plopped down and I began rubbing his back. It wasn’t long before he was lying face down across my lap. From that vantage point I could access his legs, his back, and more importantly his cute bottom. Unlike the prior night I wasted no time sliding my hand beneath his jockeys to attend to those rounded and firm cheeks. He didn’t protest. Within a half hour, I pulled his briefs down, fully exposing his backside to my touch. Again, no protest. He did balk at my fingering of his anus and, as he did the night before, he tightened his ass cheeks to ward off the intrusion. Each time I worked my way down, I’d pull the back of his briefs down. Finally I suggested “we” just take off his underwear so I could properly work my way from his head down his back and legs to his feet without having to fool around with his underpants. Instead of waiting for his response I just continued to peel them down to his feet as I made the suggestion. Now, I don’t know if he felt powerless or bought my explanation, but he actually lifted his body to facilitate the removal as I pushed them down his legs. As he came back down I felt his stiffy pressed against my legs.

I wanted so much to reach under there and wrap my hand around that appendage, but I resisted. We had plenty of time to ease into that without arousing suspicion of ill intent in his ten year old head. I playfully slapped his pale backside and suggested it would be much more attractive if he ran around without his underpants or swim trunks so the sun could match the color to his legs and back. He didn’t respond. He just lay there staring forward as if he was thoroughly engaged by the TV program. Down deep I knew he was feigning not hearing my suggestion.

After fifteen or twenty minutes of attending to this now naked boy, I began to take my assault further. I manually repositioned him so his legs were spread a bit. It was my intention to disarm the boy’s modesty by gradually reaching under to gently introduce his ball sack and penis to my touch. I felt it would make asking him to roll over easier having done so.

On my next pass I spent a few minutes massaging his upper legs and lower buttocks. My arousal was unbelievable as my hands moved down the roller coaster of the boy’s amazing form. Over the smooth back, up and over those beautiful, firm, dimpled cheeks, down the smooth and equally firm upper legs, gradually rising again as they passed over the tanned muscular calves. I couldn’t reach the feet from where he was positioned, but they could wait.

The third pass, I slid my hands down his butt cleavage and accessed his young ball sack in and incidental way so as not to startle the boy. He took it well and didn’t object. I told myself, the next pass would include the entire sack for a more extended manipulation. It did. I could feel his little rocks moving as I fingered the wrinkled scrotum. I returned to his back and legs without acknowledging having massaged his little purse.

Next pass, I went for the penis. Surprisingly the boy lifted to allow me to grasp the entire stiffy in my hand. I gently squeezed it, bent it downward and then pinched the bulbous glans a few times after it was now exposed and pinned down between his legs, and returned to his back. There was no way his attention was glued to the program on television, but he didn’t show it. After another three penile manipulations, I suggested he turn over to let me do the front of his body. He complied without pause. I was breathless as that stiff four inch appendage came into view. This boy was beautiful, and now he was totally my toy for the evening.

Sam turned his head as if to watch the programming, but I didn’t turn mine. In an effort to act as though his beautiful penis and ball sack weren’t my main target, I began by rubbing his chest and arms. Each time I moved around his navel, I was tempted to move toward that stiffy. Desire gave way to my perceived need to make him think his package wasn’t the center of my attention. But, we all know it was. After a few minutes I was able to strangle that little hard-on and lightly finger his wrinkled scrotum. The only detectable response from the boy was to spread his legs further apart to invite unbridled touch to the area. I accepted his invitation.

Catching myself, attending too completely to his boy toys, I temporarily abandoned the area and rubbed the front of his shapely legs. He didn’t shift from the spread position he’d taken only moments earlier nor did he take his visual gaze off the television. Perhaps it was his way to disguise his desire in the same way I assumed I’d disguised mine.

Moving back to the erection, I took the phallus between my palms and rolled it back and forth as if I was working a butter churn. I finished by again playing with his bulbous glans. Then it was back to his chest. It was then something amazing happened. He grabbed my hands and forcefully placed them back on his boy parts as if to request further attention to the area. Who was I to argue? I spent a half hour concentrating on strictly manipulating that stiff penis and those marbles contained in that wrinkled pouch.

Thinking I wanted to continue the guise that what we had just done was completely innocent, I suggested it was bedtime. He complained about having to “go to bed so early” without any acknowledgement to his nudity. I insisted that his mother would not approve of me letting him stay up too late. He pouted as he rolled over to retrieve his briefs. It was at that point I couldn’t let him cover-up that artistic masterpiece of a body. I told him I wanted him to sleep naked while he stayed with us. He took pause at the suggestion. I looked him square in the eye and told him it wasn’t up for negotiation. After his bath he was to stay completely naked until I told him to dress the next morning.

Of course he continued to plead his case stating that Mary Ellen would see him. I assured him Mary Ellen had seen many little boys naked before and she would be fine with his nudity. That wasn’t enough to curb his argument. He stood before me with that long stemmed mushroom like stiffy pointing directly at me and continued to argue. Of course I knew he was not going to win this one. I reached around behind him and gave his backside a light slap and firmly reiterated it would be the rule and I wasn’t going to change my mind. I rose and took the naked child to his bedroom and tucked him in. He was still pouting as he rolled over and hugged his pillow. I could hardly wait until breakfast. I’d watch him shyly saunter into the kitchen naked as the day he was born, and then, perhaps, suggest he spend the entire morning naked. Good bye, tanlines! Hello, touch sensations!

After Sam had drifted off to sleep, I decided to take advantage of a photo op that would be free of conflict with the boy. I really wanted to record the success I’d made and have some keepsakes to review whenever the mood moved me. I quietly crept into his room and at first took in the sight of this handsome young boy resting so peacefully. I slowly peeled the covers from the naked boy and began using my 35mm camera to focus on the boy in various states of exposure. I could feel my heart pumping as I took photo after photo of him as he lay there on his stomach. I needed some of his remarkable boyhood, but how to turn him over without awakening him?

Gently I slid my arm under the soundly resting boy and applied pressure enough to encourage him to unconsciously adjust his position. He moved to his side. I grabbed my camera and recorded the position with the sheets draped in various teasing positions and finally with him fully exposed. He looked so angelic in his slumber, but I was driven to record the angel on his back with his legs splayed, so again I gently coaxed him to his back. His hand moved to clutch his package as if to play with it in his sleep. More photos were taken. I remember just holding my breath that the flashes wouldn’t awaken him.

I was quite aroused at this point, but I wanted to move his hand and get some of his items of interest. I lifted his hand and gently placed it to his side. Sam didn’t leave slumberland as I took several of that four-inch, flaccid appendage draped to the side of his tight little scrotum. I moved in to capture a close up of the pee slit in the middle of that intriguing glans. Using bedside lamps I was able to vary the lighting and was sure the result would be a truly artistic presentation. Having taken my fill, I covered the boy and crept out of the room.

As I returned to the living room, I tried to watch the evening news, but I just couldn’t get interested. There was something eating away at me, telling me I was missing some other possible thrill. It occurred to me having the photos to share with Valerie and our mother wasn’t enough. I had to feel the voyeuristic pleasure of forcing him to be exposed in front of unknown others—preferably the general public. The humiliation and embarrassment he’d feel would truly add to my sexual arousal. It’d be the perfect power play. I’d force him to be exposed before others eventually but his cousin, Mary Ellen, would be the first. Watching her order him around and making him submit to her “massages” and forcing him to exhibit himself to her friends would more than drive me to orgasm. I was sure of it. Sammy was in for “the ride of his life”. I knew Valerie would be pleased in his evenly distributed tan and probably continue my policy. At least I hoped so.

The next morning I heard him bellow my name from the guest room. I hollered back up to him as to what he wanted. He said some clothes and I excitedly shouted back that he should come down naked and have breakfast. Of course, he argued he wanted to put something on before he came down. I shouted back, “No, you can come down naked”, and reassured him Mary Ellen wasn’t home, it was just the two of us. He pleaded for clothing once again and I remained adamant. The very power struggle of making him comply with my request over his most ardent refusal was definitely arousing especially knowing full well when the smoke cleared I’d be the winner. I quit arguing and returned to the kitchen.

It must have taken close to a half an hour before he showed up in the kitchen. He had wrapped himself in a blanket from the bedroom closet. I told him to lose it and quit being so modest, and gently helped unwrapped him. I reassured him his body was beautiful and he shouldn’t be so guarded about exposing it. Actually, I mentioned his penis in particular and told him he was much bigger in that department than most boys his age and he shouldn’t be embarrassed by showing it. Once again, I could only hope I’d disarmed him. Though I was clearly becoming more aroused at the sight of this naked boy with what I’d say was a very sizeable erection, I decided to act completely disinterested. I pulled out a chair and told him to sit down as I prepared his morning meal.

It was at that point that I desperately sought a mental plan to compel the boy to remain nude without making it sound like it was my demand—a way to encourage his continued nakedness without being too forceful. I wanted a path to deniability when Sam broke the story to his mother. Actually, I had to play it that way as I believed Valerie would support me in forcing her son’s continued exposure, but I wasn’t certain of it. My posture of seeking his cooperation in the situation was to change rather soon.

Sam finished his breakfast and then asked, “Now, can I have some clothes?” I wanted so much for this handsome specimen to spend the entire day, for that matter the entire month, completely undressed and on display for whomever wanted to take in the eye candy. I dearly wanted to reach down and caress the entirety of his boyhood. Just to feel that stiff young penis in my hand and rub that velvety ball sack once again was overwhelmingly desirable. I wanted to erase those tan lines, to photograph this perfect child in his natural state both for posterity and for his mother’s benefit, not to mention completely enjoy his embarrassment and humiliation as he was forced to be the object of the view and touch of others. Mentally plotting how to accomplish it was getting me hot. I just responded to his question with, “Maybe later. I think you need another massage this morning.”

He argued he didn’t want a massage. Again, I tried to reason with him that he’d be much calmer if he let me give him a massage that morning. He insisted that he wanted to get dressed. It was then I crumbled. I told him I wanted him to stay naked for the morning and we’d discuss clothing after lunch. That led to an angry protest and a whole lot of pouting.

My initial plan had been to approach to his continued nudity gradually and in doing so hopefully inspire Sammy to be cooperative and accepting. For purposes of denial, should Valerie be incensed, I wanted Sammy to think being naked was a mutual decision, and, if at all possible, mostly his. But being driven by the sight of that stiff “one eyed worm” pointing at me, combined with the frustration and adamancy of the boy’s argument, I was compelled to lose patience and abandon that plan. It was evident I had to force him to display himself.

I found myself firmly stating that he would stay naked and I’d decide when he’d get clothes to put on. In the back of my mind, I knew letting him dress probably wouldn’t happen any time soon.

The boy reacted with shouting and tears. He expressed his concern that Mary Ellen would come home and he’d be naked and she’d see it all. I reassured him that would definitely happen. In my fit of dominance with him I added that I hoped she’d have some friends with her when she came home, too. And, that made him angrier.

He brushed the table with his arm and knocked his cereal bowl on the floor. I swatted his bare backside hard and told him he would clean up his mess. He bolted toward the doorway to the hall and I grabbed him by the arm. Suddenly my eroticism had given way to anger. I swatted his backside again and reiterated my demand that he clean up his mess. The boy crumbled to the floor sobbing. As he seated himself in a fetal position and continued crying, I noted his erection had subsided and only the glans and ball sack were visible beneath his joined thighs. Even in that position his body was irresistible.

Sam cried for the better part of thirty minutes. When he stopped he angrily grabbed some paper towels and began cleaning up the milk he’d splattered in his rage. I watched as he threw the wet towels in the trash can and with a pout headed toward the hallway. It was then I told him he wasn’t to go upstairs, he had to stay in the kitchen, watch TV in the living room, or, best of all in my mind, go outside and play. I made it clear his bedroom was off limits.

Even though, at the time, the boy was pouting and his item of interest was at ease, my eroticism returned as I imagined Mary Ellen’s homecoming. I wondered how she would react seeing her cousin in the altogether. Better yet, I truly hoped she’d come home with a few friends and to face the surprise. Only time would tell.

Sam eventually retreated to the living room where he chose to stretch out on the couch front side down of course. I entered and in an attempt to calm him, I sat on the outer edge of the cushion and began stroking his head and quietly explaining my goal to help him overcome his modesty. Sam aggressively rejected my touch pushing my hand away. This caused me to briefly evaluate whether our relationship was more important than my sexual arousal. But, after the rewards of the previous evening and the mental wrestling match of that morning we definitely weren’t returning to square one. I’d reluctantly crossed the threshold of achieving my goal with the boy, and, like it or not, I was now on the “iffy” turf by having forced his nudity. The thrill of my eroticism trumped my concerns about how he felt about it or his mother would react to what I’d done.

I’d had enough of Sam’s attitude and decided I’d force the massage. I wanted so much to feel those little boy parts and explore his inner sanctum that morning. My first request was to suggest since he was going to be massaged anyway it’d be much more pleasant if he would just lay across my lap and we could get started. He objected and crossed his arms defiantly. I told him I was prepared to put him there myself if he didn’t do as I’d asked, and after a huff he slowly complied. Following the process I’d established the night before, I began by rubbing and tickling his face and neck area. Gradually I worked my way down his body and caressed his boyhood and soft scrotum. To my delight, his penis quickly sprang to life and hardened under my touch.

Fifteen minutes into the massage the front door abruptly opened. Hearing it, Sam immediately sprang to his feet, grabbed a throw pillow to shield his midsection, and as he scampered to hide behind a side chair Mary Ellen announced her arrival. I must admit I had mixed feelings in that situation one of feeling I’d been caught in the act of doing something anyone would question and the opposite feeling of the distinct pleasure of making my nephew show his naked self to someone else. Determining, which of these feelings would take precedence was only seconds away.

Mary Ellen entered the living room and was quick to note her cousin’s nervous giggle and preoccupation with hiding behind a chair. His bare chest and nervous smile was a clear hint as to why he was hiding. My daughter asked why Sammy was hiding and I told her outright that he didn’t want her to see his boy parts. She then asked the expected question, “So, why’s he naked?”

We were at the critical point of deciding the final outcome of my intentions. I explained he was naked because he slept naked the night before and that I thought it would be good to help him overcome his issues with modesty by making him stay naked for the morning. I explained he was a boy and boys shouldn’t have any modesty hang-ups. Then, I told her before she came in I was in the process of massaging him to help him with the acceptance and calm him down a bit.

Quite unexpectedly the twelve year old shrugged her shoulders and told him to show her what he was hiding. Of course, Sammy refused adamantly while nervously smiling. Mary Ellen moved to a spot where she could survey the side of the boy’s nude form. The pillow still covered his boyhood as he pressed himself closer to the chair back. My daughter teased with “Hey, cute little butt you got there.”

The time had come for me to let his cousin see the little prize he was guarding so fervently. I told him to stop acting so ridiculously and just put the pillow down. He giggled and refused. I walked over and slapped his bare ass cheek hard. There was a loud snap followed by a pink hand print. I reiterated what I wanted. He teared up and clutched the pillow every bit as tightly as he had been before the slap. I took hold of the covering and forcibly removed it from his grasp. After throwing it to the couch I ordered him to step out from behind the chair. Mary Ellen was broadly smiling as he stepped out now covering his package with his left hand. I slapped his bare backside again, but not with the same force as I had previously, and told him to quit being so silly and put his hand down. Mary Ellen’s gaze remained glued to her naked boy cousin.

Slowly, Sammy uncovered his very stiff member. It stuck out pointing straight at my daughter. She giggled a bit and said, “Hey good one. See that wasn’t so bad. Was it, Sammy?” He relaxed a bit, but his penis wasn’t quite ready to follow his psychological lead.

There was no time like that present to suggest some changes for Sam’s attire and lack thereof for the remainder of his visit. What was decided that morning would feed my voyeuristic desire to watch my daughter and her friends react to my naked nephew, or not. I wanted Mary Ellen to think she’d helped determine the boy’s situation for the remainder of his stay. I casually dropped the suggestion that it might help Sammy overcome his modesty a bit if we insisted he stay naked for most of his visit. Of course he objected loudly, and I think that may have cemented his fate in Mary Ellen’s mind. She concurred that it would be a good idea. I added even more fuel to the fire by suggesting that if we did Mary Ellen and her friends could help me by assuming some of the required massage times, so I could do other things. With that, Mary Ellen spouted almost gleefully, “You mean he’s going to be naked when my friends come over?”

My response was designed to add some deniability, “If you’re uncomfortable with that, you can let him put on some shorts or underwear.” She automatically responded that she’d be happier if he had to stay naked. Again, I replied, “That’s up to you.”

Of course Sam objected and said he wouldn’t let them see him naked. To my relief, Mary Ellen jumped back at him telling him he’d do whatever he was told. She took on the new situation as if she was in-charge by outlining some ground rules. Each time she’d look to me for affirmation, which she got. As far as I was concerned my culpability was cut in half by allowing her to call some of the shots.

I suggested that would be a good time to demonstrate how to massage Sam. I sat on the couch and patted my lap. Sam didn’t take the hint. I told him to lay down across my lap. He refused again defensively clutching his boyhood. I had to get firmer in my command. He slowly complied as Mary Ellen took a seat in the same side chair her embarrassed cousin had used as a shield moments earlier.

Once the boy was in position I resumed the massage starting once again with his face. I gave verbal instruction as I worked over his skin making sure to tell her to do his penis and scrotum thoroughly but to avoid concentrating on those parts. I knew full well she’d eventually get to the point of centering her attention on the boy’s hard-on and marbles over time, but again I had developed deniability by instructing her otherwise.

Following my demonstration, I told Mary Ellen to give it a try herself. I guided Sammy off my lap and had Mary Ellen take my place. After a bit of nervous tuff on Sammy’s part he placed himself in position over his cousin who was only two years his senior. She tried to act calm but her impatience to get to his penis and scrotum was very evident. As she toyed with his erection, Sammy just stared up at the ceiling. After a few minutes of my total arousal watching my daughter toy with the boy’s stiffy, I suggested moving on to his legs. She did, but quickly returned to his items of interest. I’d show her the anal penetration during a subsequent massage.

I actually had to tell my daughter that she was free to continue bringing friends over to the house. She thought that Sammy’s naked state precluded her from doing that. But we all know a voyeur counts on others interacting with the victim and I was no different. The thrill of forcing him to submit to the looks and touches of others was absolutely something to look forward to.

After cleaning up the lunch dishes, I told Sammy to go to the living room so we could massage him. Not that I had to be forceful with Mary Ellen she complied with a smile on her face. Sam had to be reminded where his hands were to be. But Mary Ellen instinctively knew where her eyes were most comfortable.

It was then I taught Sam how he was to position himself for that massage and any future massages. He was made to lie on his back, arms extended and legs drawn up until the soles of his feet were pressed together. As he lay there it was very evident his penis and scrotum were then very accessible as was his tight little anus. I liked it and so did my daughter, Sammy not so much. He cried.

I had Mary Ellen position herself on the floor to one side of her naked cousin while I sat on the other side. I began stroking his face and gently tracing over his facial features. My hands were wet from his tears. I moved my hands down the center of his torso to his penis and ball sack. I worked the boy parts for a minute or two demonstrating how I wanted Mary Ellen to play with them. Then I returned to the shoulders and massaged down his arms to his hands. Following that my hands moved simultaneously moving outward from the center and down to his sides to the floor. When I reached his groin, I again toyed with his genitals. I demonstrated the “butter churn” approach for Mary Ellen, rotating his hardened appendage between my palms. Then I followed down each leg to his feet. After two such demonstrations, I yielded to Mary Ellen and asked her to demonstrate what she’d learned during her second lesson.

As she placed her hands on my nephew’s face, he objected to her touch. I quickly dispelled his outburst with a hard slap to his inner thigh. I must admit Mary Ellen was very gentle in her approach, but hurriedly moved down his body to get to the penis and scrotum. She wasted no time gently swatting the erection and all but laughed at the way it bounced around when she did that. Using her fingers she prodded the purse below it. I allowed her extended contact to help satisfy her curiosity. Then she placed her palms to either side of the penis and rotated it as I’d shown her. I instructed her the longer she did that the hotter it’d become due to the friction. She continued.

After she’d completed two passes over Sam’s body, I took over again. It was time to introduce my student to prostate massage. This was a move, you’ll recall, that he had rejected the night before. This time his objection would do no good. I wanted to watch my daughter impale him with her index finger. To make things more interesting, I grabbed his penis and pulled up firmly as I shoved my unlubricated index finger into his inner sanctum. The boy objected loudly with an outburst of pain as I entered him. I explained to Mary Ellen what I was feeling for and how he needed that internal organ gently fingered as a part of a thorough massage.

Her reaction was unpredicted. She had a look of disgust on her face and verbally expressed her concern about fecal matter getting on her finger. I simply stated there were two reasons she needed to put her concerns aside. First, it was important to include all sexually related boy parts, but more importantly it was embarrassing and belittling to him for a female to dominate him in such a way. Frankly, the latter was my driving motivation.

During her demonstration of the prostate massage, I insisted that she pull up on the penis with one hand while she entered his rectum with the other. Wow, what a voyeuristic turn on for me. For those of you who haven’t experienced watching a pubescent girl thoroughly exploring a naked boy of approximately the same age, I highly recommend you make it happen. Frankly, I think it’s not only arousing but it’s good for all involved. Of course, the boy doesn’t think so at the time, but he’ll eventually grow to accept it.

My mother called that evening. I wasn’t sure how I was going to tell her what I was up to and keep her from condemning my efforts. Frankly, I expected her to suggest the whole keeping Sammy naked thing as immoral and indecent. After all, that was, and still is, the prevailing attitude of many people. I wanted to make it sound like Sammy wanted to be naked and enjoyed the freedom of it, but I knew that ship had sailed when I forced the issue that very morning. While Mary Ellen had the boy subdued with a massage in the living room, I was free to quietly talk to Mom from the kitchen. I also viewed this as an opportunity to practice my presentation that I would soon be making to my sister.

I told her that all was going well. After a lot of small talk about Sam’s behavior and attitudes, I told her that he really liked being massaged. I didn’t mention massaged while nude at that point. I told her that he really calmed down when his skin was being stimulated and did mention he especially liked his bottom lightly stimulated. I told her I’d slide my hand under his underpants and gently rub his cute little cheeks. She didn’t seem a bit put out by that revelation. She even concurred that little boys do respond to massages well. How the hell she would know that I don’t know as she mothered three girls.

As I described his reaction, I calmly added that I finally just had him remove his underwear so I could get at his backside more easily and that he complied. I didn’t tell her I firmly ordered him to remove them only that I had suggested it and he didn’t object. It was then I told her that from that point on I massaged him while he was totally nude and that he’d get stiffies. She chuckled at that remark. Then she asked if Mary Ellen was there when I did these massages and I told her she wasn’t at first, but she was now. Then Mom wanted to know about Mary Ellen’s reaction and I told her that I let Mary Ellen participate in his massages. I preceded that tidbit with explaining that I felt Sam was too modest and he should be helped by some naked time in front of others. I told her that some of my friends who were raising boys told me boys shouldn’t be modest, which was a bit of a lie but certainly not harmful.

(As it would turn out later, as I discussed what I was doing to Sammy with them, two friends who were mothers of boys told me their boys often had to be told to put clothes on, that, in fact, normal boys should not be the least bit guarded about exposing their bodies. Both of them also told me they manipulated or examined their boys’ genitals whenever they felt it was necessary. I remember the relief at then having references I could point to if Mom or Valerie questioned my thinking.)

She wasn’t detectably upset when I told her that I had decided he should sleep nude and stay naked for a big portion of the day. I described him as a beautiful specimen of a boy and that I liked seeing him in the altogether and felt others would enjoy it too. She kind of cleared her throat agreeing he was a good looking boy, but she asked how I was going to explain all this to Valerie. I told her I’d explain it to Valerie the same way I’d just revealed it to her.

That was the point at which I thought it would be good to have Sam talk with his grandmother. It would provide a peek at how he was going to break it to his mother. I had given my best preliminary explanation to Mom and I needed to make sure I could cover all the bases when Valerie called later that evening. I called Sam out from the penis exploration of his cousin to have him talk to his grandmother.

From my end I could hear the complaining about Aunt Sarah making him stay naked all day, rubbing his “privates”, and letting Mary Ellen touch them too. By the time the complaints ended his voice was breaking from the emotion. I didn’t hear what Mom told him but he nodded his head as he listened and verbalize an occasional “okay”. He’d verbalized how he didn’t like being naked because everyone would be able to see him and touch his boy parts. As the conversation continued, he seemed to be calm down.

After he’d finished, Mom was incredibly supportive of the whole idea of keeping him naked. I even joked about erasing the tan lines left by his shorts. She offered support for me should it be needed when I talked to Valerie. I finished the conversation by promising to bring Mary Ellen and her naked grandson to dinner at her house the following Wednesday.

That same night Valerie called to talk to “my boy”. Before summoning him, I worked the conversation very close to the same way I’d broached it to our mother. She was quiet as she listened and didn’t ask many questions until I let on that he had been naked all day, and I had for the most part required it. All I kept hearing from her end was an occasional “um, hum”. The longer she remained quiet, the more nervous I got. I finally just decided the worst that might come of it was she’d flip out and demand that I allow the boy to dress. But that didn’t happen. She finally asked how Sam was handling the situation. I honestly told her that he didn’t like it, but he’d get used to it in a few days.

I wish at that time I’d had the testimony of my two friends to share with her about what was the “normal” for ten year old boys. But, as I said, that wasn’t going to come until two days later.

She asked to speak with Sammy. I again called the boy from the fondling hands of his cousin to talk with his mother. It was a bit more impassioned replay of what he’d told our mother an hour or so before. His voice not only cracked, but he actually cried and begged his mother to tell me to let him put clothes on. Then it got quiet on my end as the boy listened nodded and occasionally tried to cut in to his mother’s conversation. There were a lot of “but’s” on his part, which I read as promising from my standpoint.

I wasn’t wrong. Valerie told me to continue to make him run naked. She confided that his insistence on privacy lately was driving her crazy. Jokingly she said that I was doing what she wanted to do but lacked the fortitude to follow through. Her parting quip was, “If he has to hate someone for it, better you than me”. What a relief. I was exonerated and now free to do pretty much whatever to my naked nephew.

Over the two weeks, Mary Ellen had several of her best friends help with Sam’s massages. They usually took him out to the yard to do them. This was great for me as it provided natural light for all the photos I was taking and it also put him on exhibit for the neighbors. I tried not to miss a single massage session as I didn’t want the girls to do it wrong (yeah, right). My 35mm camera clicked the whole time recording the process as documentation for Valerie should she want to see them, which she did.

Valerie wanted to see how the boy was massaged suggesting that she and he would do it every day. Mary Ellen was more than happy to demonstrate. Sammy was beet red as his mother watched my daughter skillfully manipulate his body. Valerie was especially intrigued by the churning action with her boy’s penis sandwiched between Mary Ellen’s palms. She didn’t seem a bit put out by the anal penetration, but suggested she’d prefer to use a lubricant. Whatever, my sister was now on the track to taming her son through humiliation and stimulation and I enjoyed every bit of it.

(End of File)