In the Year 1970

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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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Twelve year old Mike reminisces about he and his sister spending a week at his parents friend's timeshare while they are out of town. Wish he could say fun was had by all.

In the Year 1970
by, Running Bare

Mom and Dad were set for a trip to the Canary Islands. The only problem was what to do with my thirteen year old sister and me. Of course, the first place they thought to call was Grandma, but she was not going to be home that week, sooooo.... Next on the list was the Gentry's. Mrs. Gentry was one of Mom's oldest and closest friends. They often watched us for a day or two while my parents were on weekend “honeymoons”.

Mr. and Mrs. Gentry were kind and well meaning, but strict about kids following rules. More than once, I was treated to the business end of Mr. Gentry's belt when I put on my rebellious side. And, as expected, Abby was more than anxious to share those instances with my parents. Didn't bother either of them that my ass was striped on those occasions, in fact, they were delighted to know he would straighten me out when I needed it. More than once my accuser, Mrs. Gentry, would turn the whole discipline thing over to him after sentencing.

When I think back, only Bradley and I ever got the belt during my visits. I was later to hear, now mind you this is purely hearsay, that Mr. and Mrs. Gentry felt girls didn't need corporal punishment. Only boys need the leather applied to their bare backsides. The girls could be handled with “words” or withdrawal of privileges. Boys needed painful experiences (at times combined with the withdrawal of privileges as well) to get the message. Unfair? Hell yes! But what can a preteen boy do about it? Warmed backside or not, I did like Mr. Gentry. He was usually happy, loving and humorous to be with.

The Gentrys had three children. Their eldest was a daughter Abby's (my sister) age. Michelle had a attitude when it came to younger boys and, most of the time, it wasn't pleasant. Then there was Bradley. He was eight years old. Me being four years his senior didn't gel well as far as shared interests or doing things together. Susan, the third Gentry child, was ten and she kind of kept to herself. So you can imagine how spending any more than a day or two with them quickly became boring to me.

On this particular occasion, the Gentrys agreed to watch us for the ten days Mom and Dad were going to be gone. Apparently they had a timeshare on a quiet North Carolina beach for a week of that time and they'd take us along. Nothing matches the excitement of this twelve year old going to the beach for a week. That left three or four days of agony with nothing to do. The rest of the time I'd at least have daily body surfing and dodging waves, the potential for a lot of fast food dining, and living in a bathing suit and flip flops. Yeah, that sounded great. The only thing one could ask for would be a male age mate with whom to share it. I felt maybe I'd meet such an entity seeking a companion after we settled in.

The night Mom and Dad left us at the Gentry's should have been an omen for me. I was charged with a task that was quite embarrassing and truly alarming. After dinner Mrs. Gentry asked me to shower with Bradley. Now, back in those days it wasn't uncommon for boys to be gang showered and bathed. There was little if any modesty to go around especially for prepubescent boys. But I guess one could say I was an exception. I didn't like displaying my junk in front of anyone. Try as I might I was not going to be freed from the event. Mr. Gentry, who was standing there when I was directed to go with the eight year old said nothing.

Oh it got worse. As I blushed at the idea of sharing a shower, totally nude, with a kid that hadn't ever seen me naked was bad enough, but then she instructed me that she wanted me to wash him. “And, be sure you wash his boy parts thoroughly, he doesn't. And his backside needs particular attention, I'm tired of having to scrub skid marks out of his underwear.” My mouth must have been wide open in astonishment. I was about to contest the order when she followed up, “I really, really appreciate you doing this for me. I've got a lot to get done for the beach trip.” I was boxed in. Mr. Gentry told me through a reminder to his young son, that the bathroom door was not to be locked in case he had to come in there to settle us down.

When we entered the bathroom it didn't take Brad long to strip naked. I, on the other hand, was timid and not at all comfortable with being bare in his presence. My better angels reminded me that I was the leader in this situation and I should handle it maturely. I distinctly remember battling the idea that I could wash the kid while keeping my own clothes on. But, I was concerned about how the elder Gentry's would interpret my shyness. The boy's cute little penis was draped over his peanut sized ball sack and he was giddy with excitement of bathing with me.

Things got a bit hairy when my own member stiffened at the sight of the little guys package. The thought I'd have that three inch worm in my hands after a short time was a bit arousing. I slid my underwear off and my own member stuck out paralleling the floor. Brad's eyes were glued on my penis as much as mine had been on his. He giggled as he turned to start the shower. The kid bent over the side of the tub and as he turned on the water I was treated to a very revealing view of his anus. Another area I would soon be charged with cleaning. I must admit questioning my sexuality because I found his muscular little body inviting. Actually, I momentarily forgot my own nakedness as I anticipated feeling his most sensitive body parts.

I wouldn't say my erection was raging, but I was stiff and I was aware of the noticeable sway left and right as I raised my leg to enter the tub. Brad was already in there and was preoccupied with the stream from the shower head. Then the little shit, without warning, playfully grabbed my penis and giggled. I admonished him to keep his hands to himself and he released it. There was a bit of disappointment on his face. I surmised he was used to playing with his shower mates perhaps during sleepovers, who knows. That wasn't going to fly with this one.

There was a slight tinge of unfairness that floated through my head as I really was interested in getting a hold on his little appendage. For some reason, I wanted him to be as stiff as I was and felt anxious to get to work on it. After all, his mother ordered me to clean his boy parts specifically and now I was kind of looking forward to doing it. I soaped up one of the washcloths that had been left out on the vanity and proceeded to get his face, chest and arms done. He cooperated closing is eyes as I washed his handsome little face. He automatically raised his arms for me to wash them. All was going well as I resoaped the cloth and, skipping his crotch, washed the fronts of both legs. When I finished, I had him turn around and did the entire back of his body including his dimpled ass cheeks.

Okay, I'd satisfied myself that he would not suspect my excitement to do his forbidden areas. I pulled him back around and he was still flaccid. I couldn't help but admire the slight rim of skin left by his circumcision and was determined he'd be hard as I was by the time I finished. I soaped up my hands and began manipulating his penis and scrotum. Now, his mother's charge re-echoed in my head—clean his boy parts really well. So, I just kept resoaping and stimulating that boy's member until it did stand up and salute. I know, I know, yes I have one myself so why was there so much excitement about feeling this kid's? Well, as an adult, I have had many cars but driving someone else's has always been a treat. Yes, they all work pretty much the same, but it's still exciting to take another model though it's paces.

I had the kid turn around and bent him over. Again I soaped up my hand. He giggled as I instructed him to spread his cheeks, but he quickly complied. My soapy hand slid up and down the crack smoothly. But a sudden desire to punch my fingers into that inviting hole overtook me. At first I just pushed a little and he giggled. Then he backed himself up pushing my finger right into his inner most sanctum. I quickly removed it and vocalized an admonition. That was short lived as I decided to revisit the new territory he'd introduced to me. Yep, I impaled him with a soapy index finger and wiggled it around a bit.

I was overtaken by the thought I'd gone way out of bounds with the intrusion so I quickly removed it and turned him around. His cute little boner was pointing right at me. I took it in hand and was about to rewash it when the bathroom door burst opened. Mrs. Gentry quickly slid the shower curtain back and I dropped everything and clutched my package to shield if from her view.

I could feel the heat of the additional blood flow to my face the embarrassment caused. She was completely nonchalant as she asked how we were doing. I stuttered while finding the words to tell her we were fine. Brad reported that I'd cleaned his “wiener” and “butt hole”. It was surreal that she seemed to completely ignore the fact this completely nude twelve year old was standing in her uninvited presence as she told her eight year old to turn around so she could inspect his anus. That done she told me to put my hands down stating she was a mother and I had nothing new she hadn't seen. To this day, I hold that argument was groundless as my body was something she hadn't seen.

Now, how she watched as my hands were removed revealing a six inch erection without comment or embarrassment I'll never figure out, but she did. She then instructed Brad to get out so I could wash myself. She received him into a towel and shut the shower curtain once again. Before the two of them left the bathroom she uttered a thank you for my services and I was finally comfortably alone. After completing the shower, I saw a towel and a pair of pajama shorts on the vanity. I'd guessed Mrs. Gentry had left them for me. The only thing missing was a pair of briefs as I always wore underwear under my pajamas lest something might be inadvertently revealed. But, no briefs. I'd make do.

The trip from Northern Virginia where we lived to the condo was a grueling five or six hours. When I say grueling, I mean it. Back then we had no electronics to make time go by. All we had was those dumb kid travel games-- I Spy, license plate alphabet, piddle, etc. There was nothing, and I mean nothing to make such a drive in that over-sized Plymouth station wagon interesting or fun.

When we finally arrived, Mr. Gentry went to get the key to the first floor, ocean front unit. What happened when he came back was purely astounding.

The door flung opened and immediately Susan and Michelle began tearing into the suitcases whining about where their bathing suits were. Mrs. Gentry was able to put her hands on them very quickly and handed each their respective two piece attire. Michelle asserted her age warranted dominance and was first to enter the bathroom to change. Susan stood at the bathroom door, holding her suit, shifting from foot to foot impatiently and occasionally hollering at her sister to hurry up.

In the meantime Abby and I just stood mesmerized with the hectic routine unfolding before us. We didn't know the drill. I think both of us had our attention drawn to Bradley simultaneously. He was in the final stage of kicking off his tighty whities right there in the living room. Guess he wasn't going to wait for the privacy of the bathroom. Once naked, the kid asked his mother if he could go the the beach. She just told him he had to wait for his sisters and the two of us to be ready. Abby looked at me perplexed as this fairly well hung little boy stood naked and waited for his sister. The look was almost, “Should you tell him or should I that he was lacking a clothing item?” I just shrugged my shoulders to signal I was dumbfounded at the whole routine.

Mrs. Gentry suggested that Abby might want to invade our combined suitcase and find her suit so she could take her turn to change. She mentioned nothing to me. I assumed I just had to fend for myself and after Abby fished out her stuff, I'd find my swim trunks. Bradley was still naked as the day he was born. When it was my turn at the luggage, I flipped through all kinds of Abby's stuff—panties, shorts, blouses and t-shirts-- and I passed over a pair of my shorts and t-shirt and our toiletries, but could not for the death of me find my swim trunks. Oh great, Mom forgot to pack them.

I complained out loud about the predicament and Mrs. Gentry was quick to share an explanation. “I told her she didn't have to send them. Here at the beach we let the little boys stay naked. So, all you need to do, Mike, is take off your clothes and you're good to go.”

WTF? Did I hear her right?

The impending conversation was as expected. I appealed for a repeat of what she'd just said. Bradley jumped right in with, “Boys gotta be naked”.

Almost immediately I responded, “Yeah, well, not this boy. This boy has to wear something.” I 'd just wear the shorts I had on.

Abby started giggling at my response. To say she was sympathetic would be a complete lie. She wanted me to be exposed and humiliated. “Okay, Mike, just take off your clothes and run nude. You have respectable boy's parts. Besides you can even out your tan.”

In Mrs. Gentry's first pronouncement she said, “we LET the boys stay naked”. That was a bit misleading. She quickly clarified it wasn't really “let” it was more like “require” boys to be naked. And, to make matters worse, she informed me it wasn't just for the beach but for the entire stay. And yes, it turned out to mean 24/7.

“Little boys shouldn't have to hide their bodies. I mean you all have the same cute little peepees, don't you? Everyone has seen naked little boys and I don't know anyone who tires of watching them. Now if you've gotten to the point that you are blossoming into manhood, we'll be a little more lenient, but from what I saw last night I know you haven't?”

Had I known, I could have cut some hairs off of my buzz haircut and glued the clippings to my crotch. But, I had to admit I wasn't “blossoming” at that point and wouldn't be until close to Christmas of that year. Shit, five or six months and I would have been saved. But, noooo! I had to be smooth and bald that June.

While all this was going on, Mr. Gentry was still running back and forth to the car unloading all the beach toys, food, and other things from the car. He had just finished, shut the front door and gasped in exhaustion when Mrs. Gentry filled him in on our predicament. I don't know if it was the five hour drive or the task of unloading the car by himself, but he was not in the mood to deal with me. “Mike what did Mrs. Gentry tell you to do?”

I answered bluntly that she expected me to strip naked and stay that way even when going to the beach. He responded short and sweet, “Then get your clothes off. You're a boy and boys shouldn't be so modest. Strip, right here, right now!”

At that point Bradley was kneeling on the couch his own cute little appendage was draped over his tight little ball sack. His eyes were centered on my midsection as he anticipated the unveiling of my genitalia. He wasn't alone as Michelle had finished dressing and was now displaying a tight little smile and glaring at me. Abby was within eye and ear shot as she waited at the bathroom door for Susan to get done so she could change. Her shit eating grin told me she too was tickled that her brother was about to become a public spectacle.

I tried to beg off by suggesting I didn't need to swim and would just keep my clothes on. Misses then instructed me that it wasn't just for swimming, but that the boys were to be nude at all times. So I could just stay in the condo, but I'd be naked. I argued that didn't make sense. And, the result was Mister standing up and removing his belt from the loops on his shorts. The message was received. I slowly began to comply by pulling off my shirt.

As I removed my Nikes by prying them off one at a time, I really did start to cry. It's hard to explain the emotion I was going through. It was a mix of having lost the battle of what I considered common decency and the idea that I'd be completely exposed to not just this family but a whole lot of other people out on that beach. As, I slipped off my footie socks and stood up for the final unveiling, my penis sprung to attention in anticipation. I remember thinking as my shorts fell to the floor, it would be most advantageous to just rush the final pieces off. As I looked around the room through my tear filled eyes, I could see that Susan was now out of the bathroom but Abby decided my undressing was more interesting to her than getting herself ready for the beach. Everyone and I mean everyone in that room was staring and smiling at me as I put my thumbs in the top of my briefs.

I remember assessing the damage of what slipping my underwear off in front of these folks would be. Not so much Mr. Gentry as he'd seen me naked when he spanked me the year before or Misses as she'd seen me the night before, but neither of the girls, except Abby, had ever seen my boyhood.

Though I didn't have hair down there, my penis had begun growing in response to the looming puberty and was now thicker and, though I'd never measured, a respectable five or six inches when stiff. All five or six inches were quite apparent as the tenting of my cotton briefs was substantial. As I peeled them off my boner bounced free. Bradley giggled, and further embarrassed me as he reminded his sisters of the description of my penis he'd delivered to them the night before. Michelle gasped at the sight. Abby stood smiling almost proudly at the bathroom door, and Susan just stared like a deer in headlights. My penis and ball sack were now clearly visible to all. I was emotionally numb. Nothing was said about my state of arousal. Mrs. Gentry just picked up my clothes and whisked them off somewhere for safe keeping. Mr. Gentry continued reading the newspaper without even looking my way.

Within minutes Mrs. Gentry was back and she was trying to calm me. “You'll get used to it Mike. Really, you will. Now when we go out to the beach, you and Brad will be the only naked kids out there and it'll be a little uncomfortable for you at first. There'll be lots of staring and picture taking and probably some comments made, but in the next day or two you'll adjust. Brad has been nude on our visits since he was a baby.”

I inquired as to why I had to be naked. Mrs. Gentry was quick with what I still consider to be a quite honest answer. She told me Brad and I had to be naked because she loved watching little boys' penises flop around as they played and that little boy bottoms were as cute as could be and smooth to the touch. She went on as if in a trance to talk about “muscular, little, well-tanned legs” (but shit she could see those if we were allowed trunks). And how she felt immense excitement when making her little guy expose himself in front of strangers. Yeah, she actually said that.

The trance was broken when Susan mentioned how much she admired my penis and how it was much bigger than her brother's. That became a teaching moment as her mother explained the changes that occur to boys' parts when they were twelve or thirteen. Then the unheard of, Susan asked, not me but her mother, if she could feel my still stiff appendage. The response was quick and certainly not mine. She could but she had to be 'gentle'.

Let me just say my first reaction was to draw my midsection back from the approaching hand and to cover my stiffy and balls. I was admonished to allow her to “satisfy her curiosity”. And then informed of boy rule number two. The girls were allowed to feel any parts of the boys' bodies as long as they are gentle with their touch.

I still remember the feel of the ten year old's fingers clutching my boyhood. The bald glans of the circumcised penis looked like a cherry on top of a sundae as it poked out the end of her closed fist. Then she pressed the index finger of her other hand against the pee slit and just shrugged her shoulders asking why boys had those things. Her mother dodged the question. Susan then made a comparative remark about how Brad's penis was often hard like that but it was smaller than mine and his “bag” was not as “soggy” or loose like mine. Her attention was shifted to gently feeling my scrotum and in particular their jelly bean like contents. As she rolled my balls around, her father came out of the bathroom in his trunks. I know he saw her. But he just reiterated the mother's instruction to be gentle. I was astonished he was okay with all of these goings on.

Having satisfied her immediate curiosity needs, Susan turned her attention to wanting to go out to the beach. It was then Michelle chimed in seconding that motion and verbalized her desire to show off the naked boys to everyone. Abby agreed with Michelle and explained she was actually thrilled to embarrass me anyway she could. In the back of my mind, I logged her cooperation with it all so I could report it to Mom and Dad when they returned.

As we left the unit through the sliding doors, I could see the waves breaking toward the beachhead. It wasn't until we approached the break wall that I got a clear and alarming view of what I was about to encounter. There must have been a hundred people stretched out and sunbathing, sitting in beach chairs and chatting and running back and forth to the surf. None, and I mean none, of them was nude.

My first impulse was to grab my still stiff package and retreat to the semi privacy of the condo. But, just as I did Mrs. Gentry firmly slapped my ass and said, “You can do this Mike. Just imagine all those other people are naked too.”

Yeah, but they weren't and I had 20/20 vision. Even the other kids—especially boys—were covered in sensitive areas. Thank God, there weren't cellphones back then or we'd be immortalized in the image files of most of the people out there. Didn't faze Brad, though. He bounced around so much his little dick flapped up and down and in all directions. The kid was smiling the whole time.

My phallus was so engorged that it felt like the glans would pop right off the tip of the shaft, if I took another step. We continued to walk past the break wall and it was then people started to turn and point at the two naked boys. Some glanced at us and returned to their conversations or gazing out at the water, but many, and, I'm sure most, tracked us all the way to the sandy plot where Mr. and Mrs. Gentry claimed temporary ownership.

Brad squatted down and immediately began digging with a small beach shovel. Susan walked down toward the water and I plopped down in a prone position so I could hide my raging hard-on. It was then Michelle attempted to rally me with “Let's go down to the water, Mike!” And, my loyal sister piped in, “Yeah, Mike, why don't you go down to the water?” and laughed.

For the first time since we arrived, Mrs. Gentry came to my assistance. She told the girls to leave me alone and suggested they go down to the water. They did. Mr. and Mrs. Gentry started to talk about the itinerary for the week. Suddenly, a hand began massaging my bare backside. It was Mrs. Gentry. She reacted to my startle and explained she wanted me to have lotion on to guard against burning. After what I considered and inordinate amount of attention to my ass cheeks her hands moved down both legs and eventually up to my back. I'm not sure of any “sexual” motive to her massage as she continued talking to Mr. Gentry the whole time. His lack of concern over his wife's actions relieved me a little, but not much. Then the amazing remark, “I'll wait and do your front, when you roll over.” She couldn't be serious.

Then she summon Brad so she could put lotion on him. I watched her apply it to him. She actually started on his front. In all fairness she did his face first, then chest and shoulders, and then, yes you guessed it, his package. She rolled that penis around on top of those peanut sized testicles and actually stroked his penis. She eventually tended to his legs and told him to turn around. She rubbed that stuff into his skin head to foot on his back side, even the kid's crack. She finished with the direction to come up and get redone if he went in the water.

Brad returned to the bucket and shovel. Mrs. Gentry slapped my ass again and said to roll over and she'd get the front of me before she put the stuff away. I balked and just said that I'd be alright. Then the “choice”. “Look, Mike, if you'd be more comfortable, Mr. Gentry can put it on the front”.

Now I don't know what shot through Mr. Gentry's mind at that moment, but I can tell you what shot through mine. Simply put, “Oh, hell no!” What came to my lips was, “I don't need any right now.”

She was insistent and tried to put me at ease with, “I have a little boy. He has the same equipment. You have nothing I haven't felt before.” I rolled over and my penis must have resembled a fallen flagpole—stiff as one and pointing up toward my navel. The erection didn't stop her. She started by lubing up my both my stiffy and my balls. I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel good physically, but it sure as hell felt embarrassing emotionally. Her slick hand slid up and down almost as if to jerk me off. Then she put some on my scrotum and gently, but repeatedly, moved my marbles around inside the bag.

When that is going on, one kind of stares off toward the sky and tries to concentrate on the clouds or anything but what was being done to him. Truth is my biggest concern was over who was watching her engaging in the process. Who was watching this woman rub that kid's penis and balls? You want to turn over on your stomach in an attempt to limit the embarrassment. Trust me, displaying your two globes and not your tools is much less threatening. I mean everyone has an ass. Embarrassing yes, but not as devastating as exposing your penis and scrotum to the general public.

Now, just stop for a minute. Not a word from Mr. Gentry. I know he saw her caressing my boyhood, but he just kept watching and talking as if there was nothing going on. He'd occasionally turn away and look out at water, but the bulk of his visual attention was centered on his wife's preoccupation with massaging my naked body. As she ran her hands down my legs she commented on how firm and muscular they were and how I was going to really look great with a “seamless tan”. She finished with a remark that will always stick with me, as she put another coat on my erect penis she just said, “And, I thought Bradley was a gifted little boy. You're going to make some girl very happy someday.”

Now, how could Mister be silent after that? He just chuckled at the remark.

As I rolled back over I could see a whole lot of attention from others focused on our situation. I'm sure her “protection” activity was entertaining to a lot of people. I reiterate, thank God it was a time before cellphones or we'd have been immortalized in what would now be considered child porn videos.

I'm not going to pretend that the sixties and seventies were periods when people wholeheartedly accepted boy nudity, but prepubescent exposure of naked boys certainly wasn't viewed as outside the boundaries of acceptability. Boys were expected to swim naked at many venues and certainly were not expected to show much modesty especially prior to puberty. This boy hadn't really read that memo and was quite self-conscious even when many other boys his age could romp naked and unashamed. It was problematic enough to be expected to swim naked at the Y and shower after gym classes at school. But nude in the open air on a public beach was quite different entirely. There were no other nude boys except eight year old Brad to take attention off me. Not to mention me being secure enough to relax while Mrs. Gentry essentially fondled my goods in front of this huge audience of strangers.

All this trauma played out on day one. It was to be repeated every day over the entire week we were there.

Throughout the week my trusty penis remained prone to lengthening as we walked from the condo to the beach. I don't know how but Brad's always stayed flaccid when we walked down there. The morning of day two, Mrs. Gentry “encouraged” me to spend some time on my back and down at the water so my “boy things” could get tanned as well. Even at twelve I remember thinking, “Why? After we leave, who is going to see the tan anyway?” Did she think I was going to be on display at any other time? At any rate I was “encouraged” continually to “roll over and get that nice penis of yours some sun.”

Mr. Gentry must have been clued in to what his wife wanted and he offered to race me to the surf. Hell, I didn't want to go down there. It'd be like center stage. He kind of made it clear it wasn't a request. I was expected to accompany him to the ocean front. Following that ordeal, Michelle walked up to the blanket as her father and I dried off. She asked if we were aware of the man who was taking pictures of Brad and me as we romped naked. Her mother told her that was perfectly alright. Her father remarked that whoever it was didn't know us and his pictures could not harm us. Then Mrs. Gentry even minimized her concern more, “If he comes back, tell him the boys would be glad to pose for him anyway he wants, to just ask.”

In the recesses of my mind silently objected, “Like hell, I would!”

The guy did come back for a day or two. It was impossible to miss him with his fancy 35mm camera and huge lens. I was self-conscious of his photography, but good old Brad could have cared less. Thankfully, Michelle didn't offer the opportunity her mother had dictated the day before, but Mr. Gentry told me to give him some good frontal shots and maybe he'd go away. I just snorted my indignation with the idea. He got perturbed and just ordered me to, “Do it!” That guy has some really beautiful photos of my erect penis and plum sized ball sack to masturbate to forever. Secretly, at my age now I'd love for him to make them public. It'd give me a erotic rush to have naked shots of my boyhood years exposed to all on the internet. Wonder if that makes me a closet exhibitionist?

I'd be remiss if I didn't point out some of the other rules and procedures during my nudist experience. Both Brad and I had to announce every time we'd take a dump. That requirement was under the threat of the belt. The reason as explained was to have Mrs. Gentry or one of the older girls, Michelle and/or Abby, check our holes to make sure we weren't bringing any cling-ons to the furniture or carpets in the house. They were permitted, no, make that instructed to use soap and a washcloth to scrub or anuses even to the extent of penetration. Don't think for a minute the girls didn't look forward to the task.
The procedure definitely gave one the feeling of being a toddler who was getting a diaper change. Same position was expected-- on your back, legs raised and knees apart on the floor of the living room in front of whoever might be present.

After watching Brad get “scoured” a few times I knew there was absolutely nothing left to anyone's imagination. Your penis, scrotum and anus were all readily accessible in that position. You never get used to such humiliation, never.

Abby cleaned me on a few occasions and I could have hit her as she'd grab my penis and balls securely with one hand while she cleaned my hole with the other. She'd pull my erect penis as she plugged my hole with a finger or two on the other. It was almost as if she had some kind of revenge in mind. I mean neither Mrs. Gentry nor Michelle were nearly as aggressive when they cleaned me up. Another experience I'd log in my mind to share with Mom and Dad when they returned.

In the evenings we'd watch TV. Brad and I were expected to lie on our backs on the floor. The girls, whichever wished to do so, could sit beside us and fondle our packages to their hearts content. Susan was intrigued with mine. I guess partly because she'd had years of experience enjoying her little brother's equipment and mine provided a source of upsized new meat.

Until that week, Abby had occasionally seen my package, but she'd never even suggested an interest in closely exploring it. Maybe it was because Mom and Dad never gave her a light as green as the one the Gentry's provided. That summer she had her chance and took advantage of the new found authority by regularly exploring my body both on the beach and in the unit.

Michelle used a term I hadn't heard before while she played with my stiffy. She'd call it “delicious”. Naive me wondered if she was going to eat it or play with it. I had, to that point, never envisioned or heard about oral sex. Though she'd rest her head on my belly with the tip of her nose less than an inch away from the tip of my penis while she manipulated her new plaything, she never engulfed it with her mouth. Perhaps having her mother or father looking on prevented her from doing so. All I can say is, if I'd known then what I know now, I'd have invited her to dinner.

Both Brad and I were naked for the five hour return trip. I must admit I was not really that uncomfortable with being naked during the trip either. To this day I wonder if having spent a week completely naked in front of hundreds of clothed others had eradicated most of my modesty. Regardless, Mom and Dad would definitely be informed of what I still considered the mistreatment of that week.

After arriving at the house, I was told to help Mr. Gentry unpack the car. Naked as the day I was born, I made repeated trips from the house to the car carrying in luggage and sundry paraphernalia. Yes, my boner had returned. I think it was because I was now openly exposed to people who knew who I was. Maybe my modesty hadn't diminished to the level I'd thought. Once the car was empty, Brad and I were sent to shower off and get ready for bed. And, yes I was again assigned the task of helping him do a more thorough job of bathing. His young penis and tight little ball sack were not as stimulating to my eroticism they had been a week earlier. Cleaning him that night was much more matter of fact.

Mom and Dad's flight arrived at eleven the following morning. They picked Abby and me up just after lunch. I remember how happy I was to be clothed again, shorts even without underwear or a shirt, such as it was, was a hell of a lot more comforting than nothing at all.

After we returned to our house, I began the onslaught of reporting on the beach situation. I complained of having to be naked the whole time, being publicly exposed, Abby and the Gentry girls playing with Brad or my penises whenever they wanted, Mrs. Gentry putting the suntan lotion on, having to pose for strangers' photographs, getting my ass cleaned by the girls, and on and on. Reliving the whole thing actually brought tears to my eyes and my voice broke several times. Mom listened attentively and Dad insensitively made a few comic relief remarks as I rambled. Abby was a bit defensive in the beginning of my diatribe but shifted to a posture of smiling and occasionally interjecting one of her observations of my behavior during the excursion. Mom came over and sat with me and rubbed my head and back to comfort me in my trauma.

What did she have to say? “Well, beside all of that, did you have a good time?”

(End of File)