Bathtime for Basil - Part One

 I was sat chatting to Mrs Ward in what she called her ‘family room’. Between us, sitting on the floor, was her son Basil. Basil was dressed in his school uniform. I knew Basil to be fourteen, almost fifteen years old, but he had the appearance of a younger, much younger, boy since he was wearing traditional, extremely brief, grey short trousers along with somewhat juvenile looking light-brown leather, T-bar school sandals. Although he wore long grey socks complete with Basil’s school colours of red and gold incorporated into the turnover tops, there was more than enough smooth, unblemished thigh to question whether or not Basil had yet to reach puberty. Simply looking at Basil’s smooth, boyish, rosy-cheeked face would be enough for some to conclude that he couldn’t possibly be as old as he claimed and when Basil stood up they would have little doubt they were correct in their assumption since Basil was not very tall for his age. On the sideboard was a school photograph in which he could be seen standing next to his classmates, some of them noticeably taller than Basil. Indeed it looked for all the world that Basil had wandered in from the junior school across the road dressed, as he was, in very short, thigh-baring short school trousers. But what would have puzzled the observer who thought him to be a junior boy, was that Basil, in spite of his lack of height, was nevertheless clearly a young teen.

I realise this must be confusing. To say that a boy looked as if he was in the wrong class, but at the same time appeared to be in the right one is not an image that is easy to describe. Perhaps it was in the way that Basil behaved. His mannerisms were clearly that of a boy of nearly fifteen, it’s just that nothing else about his physical presence appeared to confirm this.

Basil sat on the floor between his mother and myself. He was reading a comic having, it was to be hoped, finished his homework. He was wearing his sleeveless school pullover, trimmed like his socks with his school’s colours, the same colours naturally of Basil’s school tie, still neatly knotted at his neck. A short-sleeved grey school shirt completed Basil’s school uniform which I was to find out he wore for visiting and trips out as well as when he was taken shopping with his mother.  I noticed a pair of boy’s traditional blue-striped winceyette pyjamas warming by the fire and of course I assumed these to be Basil’s. I looked from the pyjamas to Basil engrossed in his comic and I paused to take note of his delightfully short haircut. It was, I concluded, the haircut of a junior boy; a model short-back-and-sides complete with floppy fringe, very unfashionable for a fourteen year old, I thought. Nevertheless it suited Basil and was in keeping with his junior schoolboy look.

There was a pause in my conversation with Mrs Ward during which she suddenly declared: “Dear me… just look at the time!”

She turned to look down at her son and spoke to him with the following words:

“Basil… put your comic away, it’s well past your bathtime… take off your sandals and come over here and let’s get you ready for your bath…” she trilled.

Basil sighed, “Yes, mummy…” and pulled his feet towards himself so that he could unbuckle his T-bar school sandals. In doing so I had a perfect view of the inside of his smooth thighs as his short trousers rucked up baring his legs even further.

I naturally assumed this meant Mrs Ward would take Basil up to the bathroom, although it seemed a little odd to me that this would imply her presence in the room as Basil bathed. Still I was merely a guest in Mrs Ward’s house and whatever was the customary procedure in her home was really none of my business. But imagine my shock when she started to undress Basil right there in the middle of the family room! Mrs Ward was clearly quite unconcerned with my being there… unlike Basil, who I could see was unhappy to be made ready for his bathtime in full view of mummy’s visitor.

“Can’t we go upstairs now, mummy?” he pleaded, which confirmed to me mummy that would indeed be in charge throughout the whole of Basil’s bathtime.

“Don’t be silly, darling… you know how your school uniform gets all rumpled if we leave it in your bedroom…”

“... but I do try and look after it, mummy…”

“I know you do, darling, but mummy has to make sure her little boy is nice and smart when he sets off to school in the morning and for that your school trousers have to be properly pressed…”

As she was saying these words, mummy’s fingers were busy at work on Basil’s short trousers. With a deftness born of much experience, she had the little metal clasp and the zip quickly undone and in the blink of an eye Basil’s school shorts were opened to reveal a pair of crisp white schoolboy underpants. Mummy soon had the shorts tugged down to Basil’s feet and to his credit he helped mummy by stepping out of them. I could see that Mrs Ward liked to keep Basil’s school uniform nice and neat as she took great care to fold and smooth the little grey school shorts before placing them in her lap. Next mummy pulled down Basil’s long grey school socks. Basil lifted each leg in turn so that mummy could pull the socks right off before folding them and placing them on top of the school shorts on her lap. Basil’s smooth legs were now completely bared all the way up to his neat little white underpants.

 Basil looked on nervously as mummy patted her hands on the folded socks and I noticed him suck in and chew on his lower lip which made him look like a boy of ten rather than one of almost fifteen. Basil obviously knew the order of his undressing and by the way he glanced in my direction I too could guess what item of Basil’s school uniform mummy would remove next.

Mrs Ward leant forwards and reached out, placing her hands on Basil’s waist. The short-sleeved grey school shirt was square cut where longer shirt-tails would normally be expected to be seen. This style of tailoring always puzzled me since there was never enough shirt-tail for boys to tuck into their trousers and the reason so many boys ended the school day looking scruffy with their shirts hanging out of their trousers. It must have driven some teachers to distraction having to tell boys to tuck their shirts in properly.  I watched, not quite believing what I was about to see, as mummy’s fingers were wriggled into the waistband of what I now recognised as a pair of regulation white cotton junior schoolboy underpants. Mummy started to pull the little underpants down, first over Basil’s bottom before bringing her fingers round to the front and tucking them further into the underpants so she could pull them forward. Stretching the elastic waistband towards her, Basil’s mummy at last eased the front of the underpants over Basil’s boy-bits, a manoeuvre of which she clearly had lots of experience.

It was my turn to suck in my lips as I tried to stop myself from chuckling. Basil, fourteen, nearly fifteen years old, was not only completely bald ‘down there’, but he had the dinkiest little tiddler of a willy that I’d ever seen on a boy of any age! If you’d just seen Basil for the first time, you’d have thought he was nearer nine than fourteen. True, Basil’s marbles were just visible still held high in their tight little scrotum and I wondered if he was able to squirt when he played with himself, or whether he was still a dry cummer, or even if he had started masturbating at all.

Now he was bare from the waist down it was time for mummy to take off Basil’s sleeveless school pullover, trimmed in the school colours of red and gold. Of course Basil grey school shirt was also pulled upwards as his head disappeared into the woollen pullover, but mummy turned and asked me to help her. Would I mind just holding onto Basil’s shirt for a moment while she took off his pullover?

“Why of course,” I replied as I crossed the room to assist in Basil’s disrobing. As I gripped the bottom of the grey school shirt to hold it in place, it gave me the opportunity to see the label on Basil’s schoolboy underpants as they lay on mummy’s lap. I suppressed a smile when I saw the words: “Suitable for Boys aged 10 - 11 years” printed clearly on the small tag secured to the waistband. So Basil was sent to school every morning wearing underpants normally only ever worn by little boys. But, as I had seen, they fitted him flawlessly and since the underpants were intended to be worn by junior boys it meant they were a perfect fit for Basil’s exquisitely short grey school trousers.

Basil’s head popped out of his pullover, his face redder than ever. As I held his grey school shirt in place my fingers were pressed against the soft skin of his hips. Mummy folded the pullover and added it to the growing pile of Basil’s clothes in her lap. I let go of Basil’s shirt and gave his bare bottom a playful smack when mummy reached up to undo his shirt buttons. Naturally Basil jerked forwards as my hand made contact with his pert bottom cheeks and I saw his little tiddler waggle between his legs as mummy told him to keep still, ignoring the cause of his sudden movement.

“Do try and behave, Basil… how do you expect me to undress you if you keep jumping about all over the place?”

Basil gave me a quick glance before he apologised to his mother who was busy unbuttoning his grey sleeveless school shirt.

“Shall I undo Basil’s school tie?” I offered.

Mrs Ward was pleased to have my assistance and spoke to Basil: “There now, Basil… say ‘thank you for helping mummy to get me ready for my bathtime’.”

Now Basil’s face got even redder than ever as he looked up at me with his big brown eyes. I had to tell myself again that Basil was nearly fifteen years old. That a boy his age would be so compliant beggared belief, yet he repeated the words his mother had told him to say without question. It seemed only right and proper that I should reward Basil by a friendly pat on the head.

I smiled: “Don’t mention it…” I loosened the knot of Basil’s school tie and pulled it apart before sliding the tie from the shirt collar.

Mummy soon had all the shirt buttons undone working up from the bottom. Without more ado she pulled open the shirt. It being summer term at school, Basil was not allowed to wear a school vest, so his chest and tummy were now fully bared exposing his cute little pale-pink boy-nipples. Once more I volunteered my assistance and, as I was already on my feet, I offered to remove Basil’s shirt to save mummy from getting up from her chair.

I moved behind Basil and, resting my hands on his shoulders, I took hold of his grey school shirt and pulled it back: “Arms up!” I ordered. Basil obeyed straightaway and I lifted the short-sleeved shirt upwards slipping it from his hands, but not before I’d glimpsed his smooth boyish armpits which of course were quite free of any trace of hair.

I handed the shirt to Mrs Ward, She carefully folded it before placing it on top of the other clothes and Basil was left completely nude as he stood red-faced in the family room. Mrs Ward then picked up Basil’s school uniform from her lap, got up and took it into the hall.

Basil stood rather shyly, obviously very embarrassed to be seen in the nude by one of mummy’s visitors and his hands hovered nervously over his little boy-bits… not touching, but clearly ashamed, wanting to hide them from view. But when mummy came back into the room and saw what he was doing, she took one look at Basil, tutted, “... there’s no need for that…” before taking a firm hold of her son’s wrists and, lifting them right up, she put his hands smartly on his head. Of course once Basil had his hands on his head there was nothing he could do to prevent anyone from seeing everything. Mummy merely shook her head and tutted once more before sitting down again which surprised me as I was under the impression that as Basil was now ready for his bathtime he would be taken upstairs to the bathroom. But mummy appeared to be in no rush.

Mrs Ward asked me something, I forget what, but we started chatting again leaving Basil on full display standing naked in the middle of the room. Her earlier observation about the time seemed to have been forgotten. Either way it didn’t appear to concern her anymore, although it did occur to me that it might be part of Basil’s bathtime ritual that he to be undressed in plenty of time for his bath, but of course this was none of my business. For whatever reason Mrs Ward was clearly in no rush to get Basil upstairs to the bathroom and it was another quarter of an hour before she finally got up and took Basil’s hands from his head. She held onto one of his hands and turned to me.

“Why don’t you come upstairs with us and we can talk some more?” She said as she led Basil towards the door of the room like a little boy, which I suppose he was. I had to keep reminding myself that Basil was fourteen years old, a teenager, which was rather difficult when you saw his tiny, thin little boy penis jiggling about as he was led by mummy’s hand into the hallway.

I need hardly add that I took Mrs Ward up on her kind offer. My afternoon thus far had been most entertaining and the prospect of possibly seeing Basil further humiliated intrigued me to say the least.

Upstairs we entered the bathroom and mummy once more took Basil by his wrists to put his hands firmly back on his head, once more displaying his perfectly smooth, hairless armpits.

“Now stay there while I run your bath for you,” she told him… as if Basil was likely to wander off. He was completely naked… where would he go without any clothes on?

I sat down on a bathroom chair and fished into a side pocket of the jacket I was wearing. Mrs Ward was facing me to operate the bath taps and I caught her eye as I pulled out my mobile phone. I waved it in the direction of Basil and gave her a quizzical look. She understood me completely.

“Why, yes, of course… that’s a lovely idea!”

“M-U-M!!!” Basil was shocked when he saw what I was holding in my hand. His reaction was certainly that of a fourteen year old boy, since I hardly think a boy of nine would have been at all bothered about seeing my mobile phone with its inbuilt camera. Yes, Basil’s reaction showed his true age, that of a teen boy horrified when he saw that he was about to have a video of him taken as he was bathed by his mummy.

While I was adjusting the settings of my phone to record video, Mrs Ward opened one of the bathroom cupboards and took out an apron to wear while she bathed Basil. I looked up when I heard the distinctive crinkle-crackle as she pulled the white polythene apron over her head and secured the ties around her waist. Having given me her permission to use the video recording facility on my phone in the bathroom, she simply let me video whatever, and as much, as I liked. Needless to say this did not go down at all well with Basil and he whinged in that tiresome way boys do when something doesn’t go their way, until he was told to behave himself. Mummy then told Basil to thank me for taking an interest in him. I could tell Basil didn’t want to risk upsetting his mother with a silly tantrum, so he did as he was told and thanked me. However his struggle to come to terms with a camera phone held in his direction was made all too apparent by the expression on his face, which was of course recorded for posterity.

“Come along, Basil… bathtime,” his mother said, calling him over to the bath. To steady him she held Basil with her hands each side of his waist as he climbed over the edge of the bath. He gingerly placed a couple of toes in the water and as he did so his thighs were stretched wide. I couldn’t resist zooming in for a few seconds on his pointy-out, little-boy willy and wondered if there would be an opportunity, or an excuse, to measure Basil’s tiny tiddler properly. I reckoned that it couldn’t be much more than an inch, or an inch and a half at most as it waggled about in front of my camera phone.

“Can’t I have it a bit hotter, mummy?” Basil said as he pulled his foot back up and rested it on the edge of the bath to give me another opportunity to video what was between his widely parted thighs.

I decided to speak and draw Basil’s attention, as if any was needed, that I was in the bathroom with them and videoing the proceedings: “Now, Basil, I’m sure mummy knows what the correct temperature of bathwater should be for junior boys…”

Mrs Ward smiled in my direction, clearly enjoying my input to the proceedings. Basil looked at me rather sulkily before saying the words I hoped he would say: “I’m not a junior boy… I’m fourteen… nearly fifteen… aren’t I, mummy?” It was difficult for me not to chuckle, since Basil obviously didn’t understand how he had multiplied his humiliation a hundredfold by admitting that he was a teenage boy by announcing his age, and having it recorded on video.

With that, and as if to prove a point, Basil stepped into the bath and slowly eased himself into the lukewarm water. I moved over, still videoing, and stood by the side of Mrs Ward to record in more detail Basil’s bathtime.

“How do you go about bathing a fourteen year old boy like Basil?” I asked. I couldn’t resist referring to Basil’s age since he had so graciously announced it just a few seconds ago.

Mum smiled, clearly understanding my lighthearted teasing of her son: “Much the same as I’ve always bathed him since he was a little boy…”

“So it’s no different now that he’s a teenager?” I replied playfully.

Basil looked up at us clearly impatient to get his bathtime over and done with and no wonder, as he could see that I was going to be videoing every aspect of his bathtime with mummy.

“No, not all all,” mum said in answer to my question, “First I wash Basil’s hair…”

“I must just interrupt you there and say that it’s worth noting how you keep Basil’s hair trimmed nice and short… as it should be kept on a boy his age. So many other fourteen year old schoolboys these days are allowed to grow their hair to shoulder-length, or even longer until it becomes untidy and makes the boy look scruffy… that’s why it’s so important to keep boy’s hair neat and tidy, just like Basil’s smart haircut. Do you take Basil to a traditional barber?”

Mrs Ward was clearly enjoying the ‘interview’ style that I was adopting to record Basil’s bathtime as she leant down to examine Basil’s ears: “Oh yes… I take Basil once a fortnight to Mr Fenner. He’s a very old fashioned boy’s barber… he knows just what type of haircut Basil needs. There’s usually one or two other mothers there so I can catch up on the latest gossip while our boys have their haircuts…”

“... and what ages are these other boys?”

“Oh, they’re generally a lot younger than Basil… little Declan, for instance… he lives two doors away, he’s only nine… as you say, it’s a shame, but so few boys of Basil’s age go to Mr Fenner’s these days.”

“Well, don’t let me hold you up… but perhaps you would explain what you’re doing at each stage of Basil’s bathtime? Just so that anyone who sees the video will understand Basil’s bathtime procedure…”

Basil looked directly at me. This was another shock for him as it was obvious he hadn’t considered who would see his bathtime video. Basil opened his mouth to speak, but his mother spoke before he could get a word out.

“Why of course… I’d be delighted, for instance I’m just having a look at Basil’s ears… you know some days I swear you could grow potatoes in there, Basil’s ears that mucky… I don’t know what he gets up to.” Basil’s face puckered up as mummy twisted his head sideways and pulled his ear closer to my phone. “Just look at that,” she exclaimed as she pointed to a tiny speck just inside his ear.

Mrs Ward was a natural.

She picked up a flannel and wetted it before wiping Basil’s ear to get rid of the offending particle of dirt: “... and the back of his neck always seems to get missed when he washes himself in the morning… so that often needs a good scrub with the flannel… just look…”

I moved in closer and zoomed in to see a small fleck of grime on the nape of Basil’s neck. It became obvious that Mrs Ward demanded exceptionally high standards of cleanliness from her son.

“Now I’m going to wash Basil’s hair…” she held up a bottle, “... as you can see I use a ‘no tears’ shampoo because Basil often doesn’t close his eyes properly… so first off we wet Basil’s hair…”

Mummy used the shower hose and by the way Basil shook his shoulders the water wasn’t that much warmer than that in his bath.

“I always like to work up a good, thick lather when I’m washing Basil’s hair…”

The washing and rinsing of Basil’s hair took a little over five minutes and I assumed that mummy would leave Basil sitting in the bath to have his top half washed. I was wrong.

“Stand up, Basil…” Mrs Ward turned to face the camera like a real pro, “I always like to have Basil standing up, it’s so much easier to see what I’m doing…”

So a thoroughly wet, thoroughly nude Basil was made to stand up for mummy… and the camera.

Basil’s mummy picked up and put on her hand a bath mitt in the shape of a bright yellow duck. It was the sort of hand mitt a mother might have used when bathing a toddler, but Mrs Ward obviously found it useful when she was giving fourteen year old Basil his bath. She lathered up the mitt and started rub the resulting suds all over Basil’s upper body, turning him his way and that, pulling his arms up and out, to make sure he was nice and clean. Basil giggled, squirmed and twisted away from the soapy children’s hand mitt as mummy scrubbed his tickle spots. Basil, for a few brief moments, wriggled about and behaved as if he’d forgotten I was there videoing his bathtime.

Mrs Ward turned to face me and the camera phone once more: “Basil’s very ticklish… as you can see, so it’s important to keep a firm grip on him at bathtime to make sure he doesn’t slip in the bath…”

I could tell this was rapidly turning into an instructional video for bathing boys like Basil… not that I had any objection. Having Mrs Ward’s complete cooperation was certainly more than I’d expected.

Basil’s humiliation was intense. Mummy was treating him like a nine year old… perhaps she always did at bathtime, but the big difference today was that Basil not only had an audience, but his bathtime was being videoed with mummy’s full agreement and consent. What must have appalled Basil even more was that mummy was so obviously enjoying herself! How unfair was that?!

“Turn around Basil and push your bottom out for mummy…”

When I heard these words I quickly got into position beside Mrs Ward so that I was ready to video the next stage of Basil’s bathtime.

“That’s it, darling, you know what to do… put your hands on the edge of the opposite side of the bath… bend down… that’s right, now just move your legs apart so mummy can wash you properly… push out your bottom, darling… that’s it… good boy.”

As Basil bent down with his bottom pushed out with cheeks spread before us Mrs Ward turned to me and spoke:

“I’m so grateful you’re taking the time to do this… I do hope you can send me a copy of your video. You see there will come a time when Basil grows up and… well, what more could any mother wish for than to be reminded of their little boy enjoying his bathtime?”

It was so very touching to be allowed to preserve this special occasion for Basil’s mummy that I started to think how I could further assist her. Of course I knew that lots of mums kept special family albums, photographs of their boys growing up. But it wasn’t until recently, with the advent of digital technology, that private moments could be so faithfully recorded.

Years ago mums had to make do with their hand-held Super 8 cameras when filming their preteen or teenage sons at play on the beach. From time to time one might glimpse a younger teen whose mummy had decided there was no reason for him to wear any swim trunks. As the naked boy played and built sandcastles, mummy would have had picked  up her cine camera and made the most of her opportunity to capture this special moment on film.

“Of course,” I replied, “I fully intended this to be for you. I know how important memories are… and when boys grow up so quickly it needs someone to capture these special moments so they can be shared with friends and relatives… and, well anyone you choose to…”

Basil was twisting his neck to look back at us and listening: “M-U-M-M-Y!! You can’t show me all bare… pleease say you won’t…” He did look funny peering over his shoulder while bent over displaying his bottom.

“Don’t be silly, darling…” mummy warned him.

“But, mummy…”

“That’s enough, Basil… mummy will show the video to whoever she likes and whenever she likes… and that’s final.”

Basil had the good sense to acquiesce: “Yes, mummy…” but he wasn’t at all happy.

“I’m sure the video that I’m capturing on my phone will be ok for sharing, but we could do a lot better if I used some proper video cameras…” I said noncommittally.

Mrs Ward’s ears pricked up: “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I’m sure this video will be fine if you’re not too bothered about the limitations of the camera phone… but I have a couple of really good quality video cameras that will do the job much better…” I tried not to sound as enthusiastic as I felt. It’s not often that a great subject for a video like Basil’s bathtime comes along and I was keen to make the most of the opportunity. “I mean, if you’re planning to show the video on a big screen TV for instance, you’ll want a much higher quality video than you’ll get from a mobile phone camera…”

Basil, still bent over legs apart, was positively apoplectic: “M-U-M-M-Y Y-O-U C-A-N’-T!!!” Basil’s voice, sounding for all the world like a preteen on the verge of a tantrum, echoed around the bathroom and I thought for a moment he was going to jump up, but he must have thought better of any desire to rebel with two grown-ups in the bathroom with him.

Mummy put Basil in his place: “You are fourteen years old, Basil… I’ve just told you that if mummy wants to show her friends a lovely nice video of her little boy at bathtime, that’s her affair, not yours… is that clear?”

Basil said the only words he knew his mother wanted to hear: “Yes, mummy…”

“I shouldn’t need to remind you, Basil, that you’re not even old enough to do lots of things without mummy’s permission… and you also know not to argue with what mummy says…”

“Yes, mummy… sorry, mummy…” Basil was suitably chastened.

 

While Mrs Ward explained things to her son I took the opportunity to get some great video of Basil bent forward and gripping the far side of the bath. I found that by lowering the angle of my phone I could get Basil’s marbles in their tight little sac, his tiny willy (just!) and his shamefully exposed pink pucker all in the frame at the same time.

Mrs Ward turned to me: “If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble… I mean I’d love to have you video Basil properly…” she blushed when she realised she might have caused offence, “... it’s not that I’m ungrateful… I mean, what you’re doing now… it’s very kind of you…” 

“Not at all… I’m sure we can make a wonderful video that you will treasure and want to show to all your friends…” I replied.

And with that settled Mrs Ward resumed giving Basil his bath while I continued to record it with my phone’s camera. I even managed to capture on video Basil squirming as he felt mummy’s finger probe his sphincter until she was sure it was, as she announced, “squeaky clean”.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a boy blush so much when I noticed that when he stood up straight again his little tiddler was stiff, pointing straight up. I think Basil’s little man was gamely struggling to reach two inches in length and his tiny marbles had all but disappeared under the strain. Of course I couldn’t resist drawing attention this by remarking casually.

“Does Basil’s penis often become fully erect at bathtime?”

“Oh dear… is he doing it again?” Mrs Ward wagged her index finger in Basil’s face just as if she was telling off an eight year old. “Basil, it’s very naughty of you to embarrass me like this… I’ve told you before that it’s not clever…” She turned towards me, almost as if to check that I capturing Basil’s naughtiness on video. “Honestly what mummy has to put up with… little boys can be so naughty at bathtime… showing off like this and thinking it’s clever… it’s best just to ignore it… drawing attention to willy-winky will only encourage him…”

The look of intense shame on Basil’s face as he stood in the bath displaying his tiny bald erection was to be a highlight of the video. As mummy tutted and got on with soaping his upper thighs, Basil squirmed with embarrassment. It was clearly a struggle for him to keep his hands away from his penis. The mantra that there was no place for modesty in the lives of little boys was obviously one that Basil had been taught to follow. However much he wanted to cover up, Basil didn’t want to risk further admonishment being recorded on my camera phone.

Mrs Ward was certainly very thorough, making sure every part of Basil’s smooth, unblemished body received the attentions of her yellow duck hand mitt.

Finally Basil was told to sit down in the bath and lift up one leg at a time so mummy could wash his feet and lower legs. It was quite amusing to see mummy hoisting up one of Basil’s feet so she could wash between his toes properly. Needless to say Basil was as ticklish as ever and started to splash about as mummy rubbed the soles of his feet.

It occurred to me to ask whether Basil had any toys to play with at bathtime.

“Oh, yes… there’s lots of toys in the cupboard under the hand-basin,” Mrs Ward informed me, “Ever since Basil was little he loved playing with his toys in the bath… he still does, don’t you, darling?”

I wasn’t sure that Basil could get more embarrassed than he already was, but his face managed to get noticeably redder when the subject of bathtime toys came up. Basil mumbled a reply which I took to mean that he did indeed still like to play with his toys in the bath.

“... there’s a special tug-boat that’s Basil’s favourite and he’s got a submarine that dives and comes backup to the surface… he plays with that for ages… it was one of last year’s Christmas presents... actually Basil asked for it when he wrote his annual letter to Santa to tell him what a good boy he’d been during the year, didn’t you, darling?”

Basil’s face got even redder still as he admitted that, yes, he’d asked Santa for a submarine to play with in the bath… and his wish had been granted, bless him!

“But Basil can only play with his toys in the bath if there’s time…” Mrs Ward explained and then added, almost as an afterthought, “Perhaps next time…”

I took this as confirmation that there definitely would be a next time and that Basil would have plenty of time to play with some of his toys in the bath while I captured his innocent, childish fun with my video camera, as mummy supervised another bathtime.

With Basil’s current bathtime almost over I sat down again to watch as mummy helped her fourteen year old son out of the bath. Basil stood on the bath-mat and I aimed my camera phone in his direction for one last time.

“Here… grab a towel,” mummy said to me as she took a couple of fresh towels out of a cupboard. “... quicker if two of us do it…” She tossed a small towel in my direction.

I caught the towel and unfolded it and saw it wasn’t much larger than a hand towel.

“The bath towels are in the laundry… we’ll have to make do with these,” Mrs Ward added by way of explanation. And so we set about drying a very red-faced Basil.

“Arms up!” mummy barked, “Right up, darling!” Then she added for my benefit, “We need to get my little boy nice and dry before we take him back downstairs…”

We took an arm each. I couldn't resist the temptation to tickle one of Basil’s perfectly smooth armpits and as he squirmed I saw his thin little willy bouncing from side to side. Mummy tackled Basil’s head, roughly towelling his hair before wiping his face and neck. In the meantime I set about drying off Basil’s chest and tummy. Mummy, having finished towelling Basil’s head, moved behind her son to dry his neck and back. This left me in a bit of a quandary, whether to tackle Basil’s not-so-private boy-parts, which had softened while we talked about his bathtime toys, or to skip over them and start drying his legs.

I thought it best if I left the drying of Basil’s little tiddler to his mother and knelt on the bathroom floor so I could more easily attend to Basil’s legs and feet. In the end it was left to me to deal with Basil’s boy-bits after all.

As Mrs Ward dried her son’s bottom she looked down at me: “Don’t forget willy-winky,” she said brightly, “Make sure he’s nice and dry…”

I did as I was told and rubbed Basil’s cute little penis with the towel. Then, with the towel in my cupped hand, I dried Basil’s tight nut-sac moving his little marbles around as I did so. I dropped the towel and with my hand bare, felt Basil’s boy-bits to make absolutely sure I had dried them properly. I pulled his super-smooth willy this way and that and even gave the overhang of his foreskin a little tug before I jiggled Basil’s marbles, lifting them up as far as I could so that I could feel along Basil’s perineum. I made sure Basil was properly dry between his legs as Mrs Ward had asked. When I was finished I was amused to see Basil’s little man had stiffened once more.

Mrs Ward took both towels and hung them over a rail to let them dry off. When she spotted what had happened, she sighed: “Oh, Basil…” she sounded exasperated as she looked at Basil’s modest little erection, “What am I to do with you?”

I could almost feel the heat of Basil’s shame as he stood nude showing off his little boner in front of mummy.

I smiled in sympathy: “Teens like Basil never seem to have much control of their little winkies,” I said in mitigation as I looked at Basil’s cute little penis pointing straight up. It was so stiff his little marbles had completely disappeared this time, drawn up by the thick skin of his immature little-boy scrotum.

“It wouldn’t be quite so bad, but he does do it at the most inopportune moments… why just the other day willy-winky decided to show off right in front of Mrs Mowberry and her daughter, April… it was Basil’s pyjama-time and I’d just finished getting him undressed… I turned my back for a second to ask April to pass me Basil’s pyjamas… well, I was so embarrassed when I looked back and saw willy-winky pointing upwards, just like it is now… thankfully Mrs Mowberry wasn’t offended and April, bless her, took it all in her stride, well girls are much more mature than boys and she’s a year younger than Basil as well,” Mrs Ward paused and sighed, “... and Basil used to be such a well-behaved boy…”

Basil’s pyjamas were downstairs and obviously Basil was still in the nude after his bathtime, so I offered to go and collect them.

But mum was having none of it: “Oh, there’s really no need to bother, it’s a little early for bedtime… Basil can come back downstairs as he is and be put into his pyjamas when I’ve made us both a cup of tea… I expect you’re ready for one now…”

A Birthday Party Story

This story is largely inspired by the writings of HumbledBareBoy. Any similarity between his stories and the following is intentional.

Carol and I had been dating for just over six months. Maybe it was because her family thought we were getting serious that her sister invited us both to attend her son’s birthday party to be held the following week. I should explain that Carol was the youngest of four sisters and the only one as yet unmarried. Carol and I had a chaste relationship, something that she insisted on observing right from the outset. I found celibacy difficult to cope with at first, but I remained loyal to Carol’s wishes and this strengthened our relationship.

Carol and I were both in our mid-twenties and I wondered why we were being invited to the birthday party of a thirteen year old boy, her nephew, Joshua.

“... I mean, are you sure we have to go, Carol… won’t it just be a load of kids playing silly games and stuffing themselves with birthday cake and fizzy pop?”

You might have gathered, I wasn’t at all keen to go to Joshua’s party. I really didn’t see the point of us going. I just knew I’d feel completely out of place in what Carol breezily said would be a fun family gathering.

“There’s never any fun at the family gatherings I’ve been to…” I muttered.

“Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud. Ann will be upset if you don’t come along… It’s a really special birthday for Joshua… he’ll be a teen. The family take these things seriously and they’ll wonder what’s happened if you don’t go…”

Ann was Joshua’s mum and as for the family wondering what’ll have happened if I didn’t go… hmmm, sounded suspiciously as if Carol was questioning the strength of my commitment to our relationship.

“Okay, okay… we’ll both go to Joshua’s birthday party, but the minute someone suggests I join in a game of Blind Man’s Buff or Hide-and-Seek I’m off…”

“You don’t know what our family birthday parties are like,” Carol said with a smirk and I wondered what that meant. Carol refused to elaborate, but I just assumed she meant that the kids were given licence to run amok around the house hyped up on sugary drinks and getting their sticky fingers over everything.

The next few days I was kept busy. I didn’t get the chance to meet Carol and had just about forgotten the forthcoming birthday party until she rang to remind me it was the following day, Saturday, when all the family would be there to help Joshua celebrate his thirteenth birthday.

I sighed. I’d rather have spent Saturday watching some cricket or getting a bit of culture at a gallery, but no, I had to go to a kid’s stupid birthday party and make polite conversation with Carol’s relatives while watching their children playing silly games. Something else struck me and I shuddered at thought of being made to sit and watch a magician or, god forbid a clown, as they entertained the children.

Well, Carol and I met up and she drove us out to the house where Ann and Don lived with their family. We were greeted by one of Carol’s sisters, Miranda, who opened the front door to us. I was surprised not to be introduced to Josh’s parents, but when I asked, Miranda simply told me they were, “getting Josh ready for his birthday party.”

I didn’t really understand, but didn’t say anything. Why would both Joshua’s parents be needed to ‘get him ready’ for his birthday party. Why would Joshua’s mum and dad be needed at all? It didn’t make sense to me.

Carol introduced me to other family members and I soon forgot all about it. Everyone was having such a good time and keen to find out all they could about me and Carol, asking when we were getting married and so forth, all in a nice, friendly way, I should add. I noticed that quite a few family members had video cameras as well as serious looking still cameras. Carol explained how her relatives loved to record these family occasions and Ted, an uncle I’d met briefly before a couple of times, explained how they even had a family website so they could upload their recordings of family events. I think he was about to tell me the URL, but Carol butted in and Ted was distracted by something else. I thought no more about it and anyway I was sure that Carol would bore me to tears by showing me the family website and telling me all about the pictures of her family holidays and gatherings. I shuddered at the thought. The very idea of spending a cosy night in looking at family photos and videos was frightful. It was all too reminiscent of evenings I’d spent as a child trying to keep still while a neighbour screened his excruciatingly boring silent Super 8 films of his family’s holidays. Actually ‘boring’ didn’t sufficiently do justice to the torture of having to sit through one of our neighbour’s film shows. Worse still, these evenings meant I lost valuable time which, in my opinion at the time, would have far better spent with my Airfix models. 

Then all of a sudden a hush fell on the gathering and I saw that everyone was looking as the main door into the family room, in which we were all assembled, opened. I’ve no idea what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what I beheld a few feet in front of me… and about twenty family members. There was Ann and Don alright, so far so good, but between them, with his hands clasped firmly behind his neck and with his eyes wide open, peering through the thick lenses of his black-rimmed spectacles at the assembled guests, was their thirteen year old son Joshua wearing nothing more than his glasses and a conical party hat! I mean, the boy was stark naked!!

I glanced at Carol expecting her to be as shocked as I was, but she was smiling, looking straight at her nude nephew and about to join in the rousing singing of Happy Birthday to you…

Both Ann and Don looked as pleased as Punch as they stood by their totally nude son. Joshua blushed furiously as everyone joined in the singing. I noticed that Ted and a couple of other relatives were recording the event. One boy, who turned out to be an older cousin, actually moved close to take photos of Joshua which caused the birthday boy’s face to redden even more.

Joshua was led further into the room by his parents and I turned to Carol.

“Is this a… a… normal birthday party… I mean Joshua’s completely nude…”

“Yes… he’s wearing his birthday suit… what else would you expect a boy to wear on his birthday?”

“... but…”

“It’s a family tradition,” Carol said, as if that explained everything.

I was dazed and somewhat confused: “A family tradition…” I muttered, still unable to reconcile the sight of a completely nude boy standing and displaying himself in the middle of an otherwise ordinary family gathering, “... you mean this happens at all your family birthday parties?”

“For boys on their eleventh birthday up until their sixteenth birthday… yes, boys all get to wear their birthday suits for the family,” Carol informed me, “It’s one of our family traditions…” she repeated.

I was utterly gobsmacked. Family tradition or not, I just couldn’t believe that in this day and age parents would willingly parade their son totally nude in front of the boy’s relatives.

Then Carol told me something else: “... and you’re the honoured guest, Todd.”

“I’m flattered,” I replied in a way that I hoped would sound as sarcastic as I intended. I still couldn’t get over the fact that Carol’s close family could indulge in the sort of behaviour that saw boys appearing nude, the centre of attention at large family gatherings. It was all so bizarre. And they were taking photos and videos! Mums and dads, boys and girls, some older, some clearly younger and all in a joyful, happy and playful mood and today, centre-stage, was a totally nude boy celebrating his thirteenth birthday.

“Oh, don’t say it like that,” Carol said, “... and besides there’s another tradition that requires honoured guests to take part in an important ritual…”

I groaned: “Please, Carol… whatever it is, can’t you get me out of it? I’m really not sure about this… this family thing of yours… it’s making me feel really uncomfortable…”

“Don’t be silly, Todd… It’s a special day for Joshua… he’s expecting you to take part… don’t spoil it for him…”

“Take part…! What? Take what part with a nude boy? You must be out of your mind…” I was flabbergasted. I couldn’t believe that Carol was expecting me to actually have anything to do with her family so-called ‘traditions’. To ‘take part’ would mean I was condoning behaviour which I thought wholly inappropriate, centred, as it was, around, I repeat, a nude thirteen year old boy.

It was obvious that Carol was, to say the least, not pleased with me and I could foresee a rocky road ahead for our relationship, assuming it survived this birthday celebration. 

Looking back with the benefit of hindsight, I can see that I was already beginning to have ambivalent feelings toward the events unfolding before me. Maybe that’s why I didn’t want anything more to do with young Joshua’s birthday celebrations… I was afraid I might actually enjoy taking part!

Carol didn’t have chance to admonish me, or to say anything more, as Uncle Ted had stepped forward to announce that, as a guest of the family, I would have the honour of undertaking one of the important traditional rituals of a boy’s birthday. I could see by the look in her eyes that Carol must have known I would have this honour bestowed upon me and she pressed me forward as she led the applause that greeted Ted’s words.

“As you all know, Todd has been stepping out with Carol for some time now,” Ted continued with his announcement accompanied by chuckles from various family members, “Of course we all hope to see a lot more of Todd in the future at this and other family events. I won’t embarrass them by asking when they’ll be tying the knot… oh, but I guess I just did! I have met Todd a few times and you can take it from me he’s a real stand-up guy… and I do hope to see him as a member of our family one day… one day soon!”

There was a huge round of applause along with a few cheers which as well as being embarrassing also put me in a rather awkward position. As I’ve already said I was appalled at the thought of having anything at all to do with Joshua’s birthday ‘celebrations’ and certainly anything that involved me directly, but what could I do? The last thing I wanted to do was to upset anyone… least of all, Carol. As far as I was concerned Carol was ‘the one’, the person I wanted to spend my life with… even, I was coming to realise it, even as part of this eccentric family. I look around at all the smiling faces. How could I possibly let them down?

There was no question of whether I would mind doing this that or the other, I was simply expected to do as I was told. Guided by Uncle Ted, who had finished his little speech, as he took my arm: “Come and say hello to Joshua properly and then I’ll explain what you’ll be doing…”

I stood in front of Joshua and I don’t know which one of us was more embarrassed. Certainly I could feel myself blushing until I was nearly as red as the red-hot cheeks of Joshua’s face.

Ted explained that I was to look closely at Joshua’s nude body for any signs of ‘boy-hair’, “It’s one of the most easily recognisable signs that a boy is entering puberty… when he begins to become a big boy,” he explained as he handed me a lens.

I smiled anxiously: “Yes… I think I can remember that bit.”

“Take a look through the lens at Josh’s armpits… don’t worry, Josh has been thoroughly scrubbed down by his mum,” he laughed, “...then use your fingertips to feel for any little boy-hairs… sometimes they’re so light and thin you miss them. It’s all recorded in Josh’s official birthday book, so it’s very important you get it right…”

“No pressure then,” I joked nervously. But as I looked at Joshua’s obviously smooth, hairless armpits I couldn’t help but feel very tense. Don’t forget I was being watched by Joshua’s entire family and of course Carol. Then it suddenly dawned on me how much she had set her heart upon me being a part of her family; that she loved me enough to share with me their rituals and traditions. I realised why I had been chosen to take such an active part in the proceedings and now I didn’t want to let Carol down even though I was still struggling to come to terms with seeing just how uniquely her family celebrated boys’ birthdays.

I couldn’t deny the fact that Joshua was a beautiful boy, standing there peering at me through his glasses, but as an ordinary heterosexual male I found it profoundly unsettling to be closely examining the nude thirteen year old… and it got worse when I realised that I’d be expected to look for pubic hair.

Carol must have seen how nervous I was when she told me not to worry and that it was a special honour to be asked to carry out this important inspection on a very special birthday, the day when Joshua became a teenager!

Like most boys of his age, Joshua was extremely ticklish and it took me a while before I could say for sure there were no little hairs in Joshua’s armpits. Every time I touched this sensitive part of his nude body, Joshua would flinch and jerk his arm away from my fingers. I can’t begin to describe how embarrassed I felt to be inspecting Joshua in front of his family and relatives. It was only with the support and encouragement of my girlfriend Carol and knowing how much it meant to her, that I felt able to carry on.

Next I had to examine Joshua’s nipples. Uncle Ted, as I began to think of him, explained that boys often started to grow tiny, almost imperceptible fine light hairs around their nipples. I should therefore take my time and examine each of Joshua’s tiny pink nipples in turn.

It was then that I remembered something from my own boyhood. Boy-nipples are extremely sensitive, so it was with the utmost care that I brushed my fingertips around the pale pink areola. Joshua shuddered and the darker pink nubbin was stiff within seconds. I carefully and very gently pinched the erect nub between my thumb and index finger. Joshua sucked in his lips in an effort to be brave as cautiously pulled at the hard little nub so that I could check for any signs of soft nipple-hair. There was none, but I still had to carry out the same procedure on Joshua’s other nipple and by the time I finished both nubbins were dark pink where I’d needed to pinch them.

I looked up: “Sorry, Joshua…”

“No need to apologise… Joshua knows what to expect,” Uncle Ted told me.

“I couldn’t see any signs of hair on either of Joshua’s nipples,” I said.

I knew which part of Joshua’s anatomy was next to be examined, so nervously and rather slowly I got down on my knees in front of the birthday boy, my head little more than a few inches away from him. Joshua’s immature penis looked for all the world like a little pink cocktail sausage pointing straight at me. I remembered seeing boys at school in a similar stage of prepubescence, their little willies not yet substantial enough to hang down, so they stuck out in front like miniature signposts pointing the way forward as they dashed towards the obligatory communal school showers after PE. If boys at school reached Joshua’s age with willies like the one just inches away from me now, they would inevitably become subject to ribald joshing. We boys knew that boys with little tiddlers couldn’t help it, but that didn’t stop us from ragging them and having fun at their expense. In hindsight it was rotten of us to laugh at their sad little-boy willies, but we were boys and boys can be ever so cruel. The embarrassment this caused and the humiliation suffered by the targets of our gibes must have been immense. Looking up at Joshua’s bright red face, I was transported back to my schooldays and I could sympathise and understand the intense humiliation Joshua must have been experiencing on his birthday, nude in front of all his relatives, displaying his little-boy willy.

Of course it was easy to see there could be no possible hope of finding any boy-hair round Joshua’s little penis. His tiny testicles were almost hidden in their tight scrotal sac.

\ to be continued…

At this point I was distracted as another aspect of Joshua's birthday party demanded my attention - mogg

A little later on in the celebrations it was suddenly announced that it was time for Joshua’s birthday cake. It had crossed my mind that I’d not seen any sign of a birthday cake, something that would normally have pride of place on a table during the birthday party, but then I was forgetting how Carol’s family did things differently…

Three boys jumped up. They were cousins of Joshua; two of them thirteen and one twelve. All three were wearing brightly coloured play-clothes in contrast to the other boys and girls who were wearing their best party clothes. I had noticed the boys before and wondered why they were dressed differently and now I was to find out.

Ann, Joshua’s mother, had disappeared into the kitchen and I assumed the birthday cake must be in there, but when Ann reappeared she was pushing a trolley. I couldn’t see what was on it, but I was pretty sure there was no cake, birthday or otherwise.

“Who’s going to help me make Joshua’s birthday cake?” Ann asked and once more I was puzzled. Make the birthday cake? I was utterly confused.

The three boys rushed forward: “We are, Aunty Ann!!” they all shouted eagerly, “We are!!”

“That’s good… I hope you boys are careful with the ingredients, because we’ve got a lot to do…”

The smiles on the boys faces were in direct contrast with the look of dread on Joshua’s. I wondered what was going to happen. Even when Ann told the boys to strip off their play-clothes… which revealed three nude boys far more developed than Joshua, although none showing any signs of pubic hair (a subject that I now felt myself sufficiently qualified to pronounce upon), I was still in the dark. The boys were each given a transparent plastic crinkly apron to put on and their clothes were taken to another part of the room. A ‘Twister’ mat was laid on the floor and Joshua was led over to it to stand with his feet apart in two of the coloured circles.

Ann now lifted a cover from the trolley to reveal a truly bizarre selection of cake ingredients. Eggs, of course, but why so many? There must have been at least three dozen. Flour, but again why so much? I mean, I’m no expert in cake-making, but surely you don’t need six bags of super-sifted self-raising to make one cake. Then there were squeezy bottles of jam (various flavours), tetra-packs of custard, soups (why soups?!), tubs of golden syrup, sprinkles… and so the list went on. Mum put her own apron on over her frock and the boys lined up in front of the trolley waiting to be giving the first ingredient.

I was still wondering what was going to happen as I looked at the three bare bottoms of the boys at the trolley.

Ann announced: “You can’t make a birthday cake without breaking some eggs…”

All three boys were up on tiptoes in their excitement, their bottoms clenching and relaxing as they were given eggs by Joshua’s mum.

“Let’s get Joshua’s birthday cake underway…”

Ann had barely finished speaking before the first eggs were smashed over Joshua’s head. I was astonished! It was the last thing I expected. I’d thought that a big bowl would be brought in and Joshua would help make his own birthday cake… well, Joshua was helping, but certainly not in the way I had imagined!

There was a big cheer from Joshua’s relatives who obviously knew what was going on… another of their rituals and traditions. Egg yoke ran down the sides of Joshua’s head as the boys smashed a few more eggs over their cousin’s head.

“Don’t make the cake too rich with all those eggs!” someone shouted amid the general cheering and applause.

“Yes, you’re quite right… time to add some flour, boys,” Ann said calling the boys back to the trolley, “... now boys, take one bag, but I only want you to mix in half a bag, because you need to add some fresh cream to the mixture… here David, you take this pot of thick cream and make sure it’s mixed in properly…”

The boys returned to a forlorn looking Joshua. I sensed he knew that his cousins hadn’t even started and that his mother was going to make sure that all the ingredients were used properly.

Flour was tipped over Joshua’s head and while David poured on a little cream one of his buddies, Stephen I think it was, mixed the all the ingredients into a thick gloop in Joshua’s hair. Some of the slime ran down Joshua’s face and over his glasses, but to his credit he just stood still while the boys helped make his birthday cake. All Joshua’s aunts and uncles… and Carol I couldn’t help noticing, were urging on the cake-makers while taking souvenir photos and videos.

More ingredients were about to be added when someone called for the ‘spinner’. I wasn’t sure what they meant until I remembered that Joshua was standing on the ‘Twister’ mat. As guest of honour I was to be the ‘Referee’ and it fell to me to spin the spinner. I felt quite nervous, but with Carol by my side to show me how it was done.

Joshua looked at me as best he could through the gloop running down his face. I spun the spinner.

“Right hand… yellow!” I called and Joshua bent forward to place his hand on the appropriate coloured circle. I spun the spinner again, “Right foot… green!” I called and Joshua moved his right foot back to a green circle. A third spin moved his right hand again and a final fourth spin saw Joshua’s left hand stretched out to a red circle.

Carol yelled something right in my ear and then explained that anyone calling ‘custard!’ between spins gave them the right to choose the next ingredient for Joshua’s birthday cake… the ingredient chosen was often as not custard!

“Have you got any custard, Ann?” Carol asked, a picture of innocence.

“I’ve plenty of custard of Joshua’s birthday cake, Carol… would you like some?”

While this exchange was going on Joshua was stretched out with his right foot behind him, his right hand holding himself up in front, one knee bent and his left hand stretched across the the other side of the mat. He craned his neck so that he could keep his head fairly straight.

“Yes please… I’d like some custard,” then Carol dropped a bombshell, “... and I nominate Todd to mix the custard into Joshua’s birthday cake…”

As a big cheer went up I hissed my displeasure to Carol: “Please… please, Carol… don’t make me do it… it’s humiliating… please, darling, the boys are doing fine without me…”

“Don’t show me up, Todd… it’s Joshua’s thirteenth birthday… so help make it a special day for him, Todd…”

I knew there was no way out of this and I felt awful as I picked up from the trolley a large tetra-pack of ready made custard. Ann had already opened it for me, all I had to do was pour it over Joshua. It was like a walk to the scaffold for me as I crossed the room to the ‘Twister’ mat on which Joshua was stretched, waiting for me to add to his birthday humiliation. One of the boys offered me the use of his apron, “Just in case you get splashed, sir…” Gosh, but this boy was polite. When I thanked him it was obvious I didn’t know his name, he helped me, “... it’s David, sir…” I handed David the custard after he’d peeled off his apron to leave himself completely nude before me. I took the apron and carefully slipped it over my head as it already had splashes of egg, cream and flour on its front. I took back the custard and looked down at Joshua.

The other two boys watched me from the other side of the ‘Twister’ mat while beside me stood my naked helper. Joshua, his back almost horizontal with his leg stretched back looked most uncomfortable, but he managed to smile up at me.

“Pour it all down his back, sir… that’s what I’d expect if I was in that position…” David suggested. I looked at David and realised these boys were experienced cake makers. That titbit of information turned the tables for me and, as I grinned back at Joshua, I began to dribble the custard down the nape of his neck, which caused him to flex his shoulders up in a reaction to the cold custard, down along his spine until I reached his bottom. I still had half a carton of custard left when I suddenly realised how much I was enjoying myself!

Oh, it was great fun as I emptied the custard all over Joshua’s back, making him wriggle as he felt the cold viscous fluid running down his sides and between his bottom cheeks. I made sure I still had some left for one final custard gloop… all over his face!

“Head up, Joshua!” I ordered, thoroughly enjoying every second. Joshua’s face was already a mess from the other ingredients the boys had added and as far as I could tell Joshua’s glasses were completely covered in so much goo that I was sure he wouldn’t be able to see anything through them. It was then I realised the boy cake-makers now had the whole of Joshua’s nude body on which to add his mum’s birthday cake ingredients.

Joshua had a sort of resigned expression on his face… that is until I covered it with custard!

I was cheered for my efforts as I handed back David his apron, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty for enjoying adding to Joshua’s messy birthday celebrations as I walked back to join Carol at the spinner.

“Darling! That was wonderful! I’m so proud! You’ll be sure to receive invitations to every birthday the boys have from now on!”

Those few encouraging words banished any guilty thoughts I was harbouring. I quickly spun the spinner and this time Joshua was forced to spread his legs wide apart in order to get his left foot onto the colour the spinner wheel had chosen for him. With his arms stretched just as wide as his legs Joshua looked like something that was about to crawl out of the swamp on his hands and feet with his head and face covered in gooey slime that very slowly dripped onto the ‘Twister’ mat.

The shouts coming from Joshua’s uncles, aunts and cousins was getting more and more frantic as they called for various ingredients to be added to Joshua’s birthday cake. It didn’t take long for the boy cousin cake-makers to get Joshua’s lower legs, thighs and bottom covered in strawberry jam (a favourite of Joshua’s apparently) and some more eggs and cream. I saw David rub some of this mixture deep between Joshua’s bottom cheeks.

“Did you see what David just did, Carol?”

Carol laughed: “The boys like to get the mixture properly kneaded…”

It was my turn to laugh: “You can say that again…”

Joshua was made to adopt a number of what looked to me to be very uncomfortable positions, all due to the way the ‘Twister’ spinner directed him. It wasn’t long before Joshua ended up in what I believe is called the ‘abdominal bridge’ position. This resulted in his front receiving more than its fair share of attention from the cake mix boys since the target area included Joshua’s boy-bits. The usual mix of eggs, cream, flour, jam and some more custard were liberally spread over the birthday boy’s chest, nipples, tummy and between his legs which resulted in a boner no doubt due to the ministration of the cake chefs who all seemed anxious to ensure all the ingredients were well mixed between Joshua’s widely spread legs.

It was at this juncture that one of Joshua’s aunts called out: “This birthday cake needs some unpasteurised full cream milk… and I nominate Kevin!”

Another voice cried out: “Oh, mum… please, no!” I took this to be Kevin objecting, but needless to say I hadn’t a clue what this latest development was all about. Everyone in the room… including Carol of course, started chanting “MILK MAN!!” “MILK MAN!!” and eventually a blushing Kevin stood up to uproarious applause. Joshua, I noticed, took the opportunity to rest his bottom on the ‘Twister’ mat, but made no attempt to wipe off any of the slimy mixture… he looked a complete mess.

Kevin, dressed as he was in faded ‘Hulk’ T-shirt, skimpy play-shorts and sneakers, looked to me to be about twelve if that, although I found out later he was a few weeks away from his sixteenth birthday. He was clearly hugely embarrassed to be put forward by his mother for whatever task being the ‘milkman’ involved. And no wonder, as Keven was then undressed by his mother! Accompanied by clapping and being egged on by his extended family, Kevin was stripped nude in front of us all (although, for the record, Kevin kept his brightly coloured sneakers on which, to my eyes at least, seemed to make him appear more nude than if he’d taken them off). Kevin looked like a reasonably well developed young teen, mainly due to the healthy looking tuft of boy-hair atop his exposed penis, which confounded my initial impression of Kevin’s age. The excitement, accompanied by his obvious shame of being stripped nude in front of everyone, soon had an effect on his penis. As we all watched, Kevin’s penis jerked into life. The higher it got the deeper red his face. There was a lot of good-natured encouragement that accompanied each involuntary jerk upwards of Kevin’s teen dick. When it finally reached its maximum height, pointing straight upwards, flat against his tummy, Kevin’s penis must have been at least five inches in length. I was astonished to witness this latest turn of events, but I was still wondering what this was all about. I turned to Carol for an explanation.

She simply grinned at me: “Wait and see… Kevin is only fifteen so he’s still got one more special family birthday party to come…” and she giggled at something she’d said.

It appeared that Kevin knew what to do, even if I was still in the dark. He walked over to the ‘Twister’ mat and very carefully stepped on it to avoid getting any gunk on his sneakers. Kevin took hold of his penis and pointed it in the direction of his thirteen year old cousin Joshua. Suddenly the penny dropped and I realised what sort of full cream milk was about to be added to Joshua’s birthday cake mixture… boy-milk!!

Carol saw my stunned expression and laughed: “It’s just a bit of fun for Joshua’s birthday… don’t look so surprised, I’m sure you used to play silly games when you were Joshua’s age…”

Carol was quite right, I did used to get up to all sorts of fun when I was thirteen not long after discovering the joys of boyhood masturbation along with my mates, but we didn’t get up to our tricks in front of a roomful of our relatives armed with video cameras. Looking back I could see the logic of keeping masturbation ‘out in the open’ as it were. Nevertheless it took me a long time before I felt able to accept what I’d seen at Joshua’s birthday party as being nothing more than a spot of harmless fun. Quite frankly when I was Joshua’s age, or Kevin’s age come to that, I was terrified of being caught masturbating and this was the same for all the boys I knew.

As everyone watched, Kevin started to masturbate and as he manipulated his foreskin pre-cum started to ooze from his penis and formed a long string of clear goo that swung from side to side as he masturbated. The three nude but aproned boys stood by the ‘Twister’ mat and watched their older boy cousin and through their transparent aprons I saw all three were sporting boners.

I watched Kevin as he masturbated and saw one of his relatives, an aunt I think, move closer to video him as his fist whipped up and down his tumescent penis. No one that I could see was at all bothered about this incursion and it was simply accepted that she had a right to video what to me was a very personal act… admittedly one being carried out in the family room in front of the whole extended family. But for me it took everything onto a completely new level and I seriously wondered whether I could ever come to accept Carol’s family and all their ‘traditions’.

It wasn’t long before Keven shouted that he was going to cum. He didn’t need to tell us since even I could tell from the way his face, indeed his whole body, was contorted, he was about to ejaculate. After a few more seconds during which his masturbation became frantic and his voice unintelligible, Kevin went up on tiptoes as cum shot out of his penis in thick creamy ropes that splattered upon landing on Joshua. There must have been at least eight strong pulses of boy-cum which suggested that Master Kevin had been deliberately ‘primed’ for his birthday party performance.

The poor boy looked exhausted after he finished masturbating in front of his family. He also looked relieved to have to have had the opportunity to get rid his load of boy-cum at last. Kevin’s public performance made me wonder if boys in this family were subject to some sort of masturbation control.

I need hardly add that there were plenty of cheers and general applause both during and after Kevin’s performance and when he’d finally got his breath back I was surprised to see him heading in our direction. Kevin was still totally nude (apart form his sneakers of course). I hadn’t noticed his mother putting Kevin’s clothes into a very convenient bag that she just happened to have. Carol patted the sofa between us and Kevin sat down next to me. I felt dreadfully embarrassed and uncomfortable to be sat right next to a nude teenage boy whom I had just watched masturbating. Carol had no such concerns and leant over to kiss her cousin on his cheek as she ruffled his hair and patted his upper thigh.

“That was awesome, Kevin… well done!” Carol said as she congratulated him, before looking over his shoulder to tell me, “Kevin won ‘Masturbator of the Month’ five times this year… didn’t you?” Carol added, to which Kevin blushed and nodded, “... that’s a record you know,” she told me. I must have looked even more puzzled than ever. I was having difficulty keeping up with Carol’s revelations about the goings-on in her eccentric family… ‘Masturbator of the Month’ what was that all about? Carol explained.

“It’s quite simple… Uncle Ted sets up a live stream event each month and some of the boys line up and masturbate in front of the cameras. Voting on each boy’s performance is in real-time and so by the end of the live stream we all know who the winner is… actually Uncle Ted had a podium made and the boys get medals… it’s all a bit of fun really and it keeps the family together, as well as all the thousands who watch the feed…”

Kevin twisted his head sharply in Carol’s direction and exclaimed: “Thousands!! Uncle Ted said it was only for our family… and… and some relatives who’d moved away…”

“... Uncle Ted’s right, but there’s bound to be a few viewers who’ve seen the family channel…”

Kevin gasped again: “Thousands… Jeez, Aunty Carol… I thought it was only, like maybe a dozen or so watching us wanking…” 

Carol put her arms around Kevin and hugged him to her: “Didn’t you ever think to ask how many votes you got?”

Kevin shook his head: “I dunno, aunty… didn’t see the point…”

After Kevin’s performance there was a natural break in the proceedings during which something else happened that I least expected. Carol told Kevin to stand up, which he did facing her without showing any sign of embarrassment… well, he knew Carol and I had watched him masturbate and ejaculate over Joshua, so simply standing nude in front of us was a piece of cake, wasn’t it? Well, like everything else in this family, it wasn’t as straightforward as that.

“Hands up, Kevin…” Carol told him, “Yes, just as I thought… when are you last groomed?”

Kevin’s face screwed up, but he’d put his hands on his head: “Please… please, don’t, Aunty Carol… not at the birthday party…”

“I asked you when you were last groomed, Kevin… it’s an easy question to answer,” Carol’s demeanour towards her nephew changed. There was no doubt in my mind she was serious, strict even, and expected an answer from Kevin. What was going on now, I asked myself?

Kevin gulped and answered the question: “I don’t know… a few months ago, Aunty Carol… please don’t groom me… can’t you leave it it bit longer? Just for once, Aunty Carol.”

“You know I can’t do that, Kevin… you are beginning to look untidy now and boys need to look smart… I think we need to have you properly groomed, Kevin… and I think that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

I had no idea what Carol was talking about, but Kevin clearly did as his eyes nearly popped out of his head: “Oh, no! Not that… please, Aunty Carol… don’t do that…”

“I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss, Kevin. Honestly I don’t. You know boys have to be properly groomed to keep them neat and tidy… don’t you want to be nice and smart for mummy? Mummy will love to see you all nice and smart again, won’t she?”

Kevin nodded his head.

“How will mummy like to see you, Kevin?”

“Mummy… mummy likes to see me nice and smart, Aunty Carol…” 

All this talk and the use of words like ‘aunty’ and ‘mummy’ was making Kevin look even more like a twelve year old than ever. It was becoming ever more difficult for me to think of him as being as old as fifteen… even with that little bush of pubic hair.

Carol turned to me: “Darling, would you pop out to the car and bring me my bag off the back seat?” she turned back and looked up at Kevin, who still stood nude with his hands on his head, “We’ll soon have you properly groomed and you’ll be able to go and play in the garden… you’d like to play in the garden, wouldn’t you Kevin?”

Kevin sucked in his lower lip and I thought he was going to cry, but to my amazement he said: “Yes, Aunty Carol… thank you, Aunty Carol…”

I rushed off to get the bag Carol wanted. It felt heavier then it looked when I picked it up. Much as I wanted to peek inside, I thought it better not to and to wait and see. I didn’t to wait very long at all. It was obvious Kevin knew what the bag contained… the expression on his face said it all… fearful resignation as Carol pulled out a neat little electric razor and some wet-wipes.

“Would you hold Kevin’s penis for me, darling?”

I was so dumbfounded by Carol’s request that I simply didn’t know what to do or say. Take hold of a fifteen year old boy’s penis? What for?

“Come along, darling…” Carol clicked the switch and the little razor buzzed into life.

I reached up and gingerly took hold of Kevin’s penis. It was silky smooth, the foreskin completely covering the glans and I watched, as if mesmerised, as Carol started to remove Kevin’s pubic hair. There wasn’t much and Carol was soon asking me to  pull Kevin’s penis this way and that so she could make sure there were no hairs left. The scrotal sac was still naturally completely hairless.

There were some light, feathery hairs under Kevin’s armpits and these were quickly dealt with. With his pubic hair removed, Kevin looked less like twelve year old, more like a little boy of ten. I have to say the ‘little boy’ look suited him. There was no way anyone could possibly have taken him to be a fifteen year old now.

As Carol packed her razor she spoke to me: “Would you take Kevin out into the garden. I’ve told him he can go and play with the boys out there… but he can be a bit shy sometimes…” Carol pointed towards the big glass doors that gave access to the play area and the jungle gym on which two young boys dressed in play-shorts were hanging upside down.

I got up: “Come on, Kevin… let’s go and see what those boys outside are up to… you’d like to play with them, wouldn’t you?”

I don’t think Kevin was at all sure. Going outside nude and newly bald where it mattered to a teenage boy was bad enough. Playing on the jungle gym with two little boys at least five years younger than he was, but who were both wearing play-shorts, was something else entirely.

I put a hand round Kevin’s neck and gently pressed him forward: “It’ll be fun… it’s getting a bit stuffy in here in any case… some fresh air and some playtime will do you the world of good… agreed?” I added the last word as if I expected a response. Carol was looking up at me smiling as I talked to her nephew.

Finally Kevin spoke: “Are you sure it will be ok to play with those boys?”

“Of course it will, Kevin… you’ll have lots of fun and I’ll keep an eye on you, so you’ll be quite safe…”

Kevin raised an objection: “But they’re wearing shorts…”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“But I’m all bare…”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Kevin… in fact it’s much healthier for boys your age to be fully nude when they play…” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Carol’s eyes light up and she signalled her approval.

I have to confess that I was a little surprised that Kevin, who less than half and hour ago had masturbated to full ejaculation in front of his entire family, was now so unsure of himself that he was nervous about going outside to play. I pressed my hand against Kevin’s neck once more and this did the trick. We walked forward and I took Kevin’s hand to lead him past his family. When we reached his mother I saw no sign at all of the clothes he’s been wearing.

“I’m just taking Kevin outside to play,” I explained as we paused in front of his mother.

“Well make sure he behaves himself,” she replied, “... and you can thank Carol for grooming Kevin, it was well overdue… it should have been done ages ago…”

“I’ll keep an eye on him… and I’ll make sure to tell Carol what you said…”

Kevin and I walked to the big glass doors leading out to the garden. As we did so I overheard Kevin’s mother saying what a nice young man I was and how fortunate Carol was to have found him. I’m not sure whether I blushed or not as I was now faced with dealing with Kevin, who had come to a halt.

He turned and looked at me, clearly in some distress: “I-I can’t go out there… please don’t make me, sir…”

He called me ‘sir’!

Where my response came from I’ve no idea, but without hesitation I spoke firmly: “Kevin, I simply will not tolerate this behaviour. If you don’t step out into the garden this minute, I’ll spank your bare bottom in front of your family…”

“Y-you wouldn’t…”

“Try me…” I answered.

“But it’s Joshua’s birthday party…

“And what’s that got to do with anything?” I actually patted Kevin’s bare bottom. I hadn’t planned to, it just seemed to be the right thing to do and it got the result I was after as Kevin took the hint and stepped out into the open air.

I could see Kevin looking in all directions and I suddenly understood why. The garden, large as it was, was overlooked on three sides and it was easy to see how any of the neighbours would have little or no difficulty in seeing boys playing on the jungle gym.

“Go and ask the boys if you can play with them, Kevin…”

Kevin turned his head towards me: “Please don’t make me, sir,” he said repeating himself, “Please, sir… I haven’t got any clothes on, sir…”

“I can see that, Kevin, but that doesn’t alter anything… you’ve been sat around for most of Joshua’s party and I think it’s time for some fresh air and playtime outside…”

I was suddenly aware of Don standing at my side with his video camera: “Everything ok?”

“Yes, Kevin needs some fresh air and so he’s going to play on the jungle gym for a bit…. aren’t you, Kevin?”

That did the trick: “Yes, sir…” he said and he walked over to the base of the frame…”

“Looks younger than Josh without his boy-hairs,” Don said.

“Much younger,” I replied, “If I didn’t know any different, I’d say Kevin was…”

“... about ten?”

“Yes, about ten,” I confirmed.

“Surprising the difference removing a few pubic hairs makes… one minute he’s a horny teen masturbating and squirting cum… the next he’s a shy little boy who needs his Uncle Todd to help get him outside to play…”

“Uncle Todd?” I queried.

Don smiled: “You’re one of the family now…”

Kevin looked back and called out to me. He’d climbed up two rungs of the frame and waved.

“Good boy!” I called back, “Now be careful… I think you’d be better on the Moon Crater Climber…”

“But this is way cooler… the Moon Climber is for kids…” Kevin yelled.

I could see what was happening. Kevin was attempting to challenge my authority… making out that he wasn’t a little boy. It would be the thin edge of a very long wedge if I let him get away with this. I paused and took stock of what had happened to me since Carol had brought me to Joshua’s birthday party. It had been quite a shock to find myself so involved in the celebrations, but it was in my handling of Kevin in these past few minutes that I found myself feeling proud of the way I was behaving. I felt good about things in such a way that I’d not felt for a long time. Maybe it was a renewed sense of purpose; a sense of responsibility. All this was totally unexpected and I found myself acting instinctively as I took a deep breath and spoke sharply to the nude boy as he climbed another rung higher on the jungle gym.

“Kevin!! Off the jungle gym!! Now!!”

Kevin paused and looked at me nervously, clearly wondering what I might do. Don was by my side videoing events. I could also see one or two neighbours looking over to see what all the commotion was about.

“Kevin… just a minute ago you didn’t want to come outside because you were completely naked… now you’d rather stay up there, high up on the jungle gym where all Uncle Don’s neighbours can see you playing in the nude… I don’t understand you at all, Kevin…”

Kevin looked around and saw that I wasn’t joking. A few more heads had appeared and a couple of dads had their kids on their shoulders so they could see what was happening as well.

“Kevin, don’t make me have to come over there…”

Kevin repeated his plea: “... but the Moon Climber is for kids…”

“But you’re a kid… a little boy, Kevin… anyone can see that…”

“I’m not a little boy… I’m…” Kevin blushed a deeper red than ever as he realised his mistake.

“If you’re not a little boy, Kevin… then how old are you? Frankly, I don’t think anyone’s going to believe what you say, because it’s so obvious you’re still very much a little boy… in all respects…”

I could see Kevin’s dilemma, if he admitted being a little boy he was going to give me carte blanche to treat him like a little boy, but if he told everyone his real age, his humiliation would be intense. Although any humiliation would come from those neighbours who were looking over the various garden fences, since the birthday party guests had all seen Kevin masturbate to full ejaculation earlier. But clearly Kevin couldn’t bear the humiliation of yelling out his true age halfway up the jungle gym and completely nude in front of the neighbours.

Kevin hung his head: “I’m a little boy, uncle… a little boy.”

“There, that wasn’t so difficult to say, was it, Kevin… now, climb down off the frame and we’ll see what else there is for you to play on out here…”

There were some boys playing on the Moon Climber and I told Kevin to ask the boys nicely if he could play with them. The boys, all in shorts and T-shirts, agreed. 

Don came up to me: “You handled that really well. Why don’t you have a break and I’ll take over looking after our naked little boy…”

I blushed, thanked him and went back inside. Carol appeared to know exactly what had happened.

“I’m so proud of you, Todd… you were brilliant.” She leant forward and kissed me.

A few moments later Kevin’s mum came over.

“Could I have a word… well, actually it’s Todd I want to speak to if that’s ok.”

Of course I immediately thought I done something wrong, but she went on praise me.

“The way you kept your cool was a lesson to us all. I’m afraid Kevin can be fractious at times… he really does need to be taken down a peg or two and you demonstrated such a natural ability to do just that… but looking at the two of you… you, Todd and Kevin I mean… I can tell he’s taken a shine to you and he wants to be treated as you’ve treated him today. He behaves so much better when he’s been told he’s a little boy…”

She let all this sink in before she added: “... and I wanted to ask a favour,” she turned to Carol, “Could I borrow Todd tomorrow morning to look after Kevin for a couple of hours?”

Carol beamed. She was clearly thrilled that Kevin’s mum wanted my help. After she saw me nod my acceptance she turned to her: “Of course Todd will help… he’s really making his mark on our family and I wouldn’t have it any other way… everybody’s been so kind.”

“Just one thing,” Kevin’s mother added, “I want you to treat him just as you have been doing… as I say, Kevin responds so much better when he’s firmly treated as a little boy…”

I found it hard to believe that a teenager like Kevin actually wanted to be treated like a little boy… maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t. He was certainly reluctant to go outside to play in the nude, but his sulks were certainly of a little boy. Never mind, I told myself, it’s certainly something different to do and it might be fun looking after a fifteen year old ‘little boy’.

Joshua’s birthday party continued and I must confess that my whole outlook towards the celebrations had changed after I’d been given responsibility for Kevin. I found myself cheering and egging the boys on during the various party games played in front of the family, many of whom continued to video and take photos, as more and more of the boys ended up stripped of their clothes. As messy as the boys inevitably got, none were as messy as the birthday boy himself. There were ‘dare’ games in which boys closed their eyes, put their hands into a jar and pulled out a slip of paper on which was written a dare. It seemed like eighty percent of the dares involved the boys being spanked or paddled and any boy who wasn’t already nude ended up losing whatever clothes they had been left with after earlier games.

Once the dare was finished the slip of paper was put on a pile with other completed dares. However I noticed there was one dare for which the paper was returned to the jar. This dare simply dared the boy to ask Carol to borrow her electric razor, take it to the boy’s mum and ask her to remove his pubic hair. Of course, like Joshua, quite a few of the boys were still baldies with no pubic hair, so if they drew this slip it was put back into the jar and the boy missed a go. You can probably see where this was leading and I’m sure it must have occurred to one or two of the boys with pubic hair, the odds on them drawing the pubic hair removal dare were rapidly shortening.

In the meantime there was plenty of work for the family’s spankers. Each slip would specify how the boy was to spanked… hand, paddle, bat, etc, how many times, who by… man, woman, boy, girl, inside or outside… front of the house, or back, in view of the neighbours, etc, how positioned… over the knee, wheelbarrow, over a chair, standing, etc. 

I’m not sure when my name was added to some of the slips, but none was more surprised as me when a cute twelve year old nude boy called Mason approached me holding a wicked looking single tailed leather strap between his outstretched hands: “Please, sir… will you spank me with Mr Strappy, sir… it’s for my dare,” he added in case I didn’t quite understand why a nude boy would ask to be strapped. Along with strappy, Mason was holding the slip of paper containing the dare instructions. He handed me the paper, but still held the leather strap out in his outstretched hands. Mason’s arms must have been aching as I read the details of the dare.

Dare #25: Mr Strappy 6 inside… position: Spanker’s choice

                 Mr Strappy 6 outside, front of house… position: wheelbarrow

“Are you sure, Mason?” I asked, “... because your bottom is going to be ever so sore when Mr Streppy has finished with you.”

I could see Carol smiling and was pleased to think she approved of how I was handling this new development in my introduction to her family’s traditions.

“Oh yes, sir!” Mason replied without any hesitation, “I know my bottom is going to string and be very hot after Mr Strappy’s visit… but it’s a dare and it doesn’t matter how hot my bottom gets as long as I complete the dare…”

“That’s very brave of you Mason and by the time I take you out to the front of the house…”

Mason blanched: “Oh… I forgot about that… will there be lots of people watching do you think?”

“I should imagine so, Mason… it can get very busy outside, so everyone passing by will see you completely bare and being given a sound strapping… are you sure you still want to go ahead?”

“Oh yes, sir… I have to complete the dare no matter how embarrassing it is… but by the time Mr Strappy gets to work on my bottom I’m sure I won’t be at all interested how many people are watching because I’ll be too busy crying…”

“Well, Mason you are a very brave little boy indeed… but before we go outside Mr Strappy wants to see your bare bottom over my lap…”

And with that Mason almost leapt over my lap. Carol helps me get the nude twelve year old position. It was one I instantly knew I’d remember. Carol twisted Mason round so that his head was tucked under my left arm. She drew his arms back so that I could easily hold his thin wrists, but I declined saying that Mason could wrap his arms around me and hold on that way.

“But if you don’t hold on to me, or try and reach back, Mason, I will hold your wrists… and give you a penalty spank for my trouble… understand?”

Mason understood. He also knew what else was required as he spread his legs so they hung on either side of my thighs. Mason’s own thighs were thus spread wide, as was of course his bottom cheeks, fully displaying is tight little pucker. I could see his cute little boy-bits dangling between my legs as Carol showed me how spreading my own thighs meant that Mason’s thighs were spread even wider apart than ever!

I gasped as I saw Mason’s pale bottom positioned before me waiting for Mr Strappy. Carol explained about the target areas thus exposed.

“The inner thigh is where it stings the most, so try one on each side… that still leaves you four for this part of the dare…”

“Ok… what about Mason’t bottom,” I asked as I brushed my open hand over the beautiful smooth curves.

“Obviously you’ve got to be careful, but if you feel you’ve got control, try bringing the strap so that it lands about here…”

Carol pointed to a part of Mason’s utterly exposed button.

“Wow!!!” My mouth fell open in complete astonishment. “Are you sure?”

Mason wriggled underneath my, clearly he wanted to know what Carol and I were talking about.

“Yes, it’s perfectly allowable under the terms of the dare. As if to confirm this she looked over to the relative who was running the dare game. They nodded their approval without a word spoken. I guess they wanted it to be a surprise when Mason felt the strap sting his bottom crack and snap right across his pucker.

I picked up the short leather strap. It was flexible and obviously well used. I dangled the tip, grazing Mason’s bottom before giving the first of the allotted spanks to Mason’s right buttock. He jerked and gasped at the same time as I watched the red imprint develop on Mason’s tender flesh. I brought the strap down on Mason’s left buttock and again I felt Mason jerk, but more violently this time. His gasp was louder too. I paused to observe the effect of Mr Strappy on Mason’s cheeks. They were no longer pale.

Carol leant over: “You’re a natural, Todd!”

It felt good to be praised by my girlfriend. I sensed that I was being tested, but in a good way as it occurred to me Carol needed to be sure that I would be a good father should our marriage be blest with boys and I fully understood this, if indeed was correct in my assumption.

Mason wriggled on my lap, but held me tight as I stroked his back and prepared to test Mr Strappy on Mason’s inner thighs. I put my left arm around Mason’s waist and raised Mr Strappy.

The beauty of Mr Strappy was that it didn’t take a great deal of effort to produce the most stunning effect. As Strappy made contact with Mason’s inner thigh it was as if a bolt of electricity had shot through the boy. His whole body jerked and I was glad that I was holding his waist tightly enough to stop him from launching himself across the room. For a split second his arms loosened their grip around my waist, but Mason instantly hugged me tightly as he let rip with a loud squeal.

I could feel Mason gulping and panting as he fought to control himself. I waited and stroked his back again to help calm him down. Aware this was not a punishment I asked Mason if he wanted to continue.

Mason gulped: “Yes please, sir…” I knew he was struggling to get the words out, but at last he told, “Please finish my dare, sir… all the strokes, sir…”

“Brave boy, Mason… ready?”

“Yes, sir… ready…”

I moved my hand around Mason’s waist once more and held him tight as I felt his arms squeezing my waist in readiness for the next stroke.

Carol watched as I raised Mr Strappy and I noticed a few of the boys had moved to watch. As always, boys are fascinated to look at another boy being strapped, paddled or spanked. As long as it’s not their bottom of course. Boys do have the benefit of experience. They know when a boy on the receiving end of a spanking is crying genuine tears and they can pass judgement on the spanking being given. I was pleased to be rewarded with a ‘thumbs-up’ from a couple of grinning boys clearly impressed by my technique.

Mr Strappy snapped the smooth tender flesh of Mason’s right thigh. This produced a stronger response as I put slightly more force behind the stroke. Not much more, but enough to leave Mason struggling to control himself. Mason’s legs were waving about as his feet tried to pedal away the heat and sting of the smack.