CMNM/CFNM AWAKENING

[fegatan13]

NOTE: Everyone in this story is at least 18 years of age or older!





During the summer following my 18th birthday, I underwent a sudden and unusually rapid transformation.





Until then, everyone in my family (myself included) assumed that I had taken after my mother's side.





While the women in my mother's family were considered dainty and "petite", the men were just plain stocky and short.





Conversely, on my father's side, my dad, his brothers and my grandfather were tall, well built, and handsome.





In fact, with his rugged, square jaw and impossibly wide shoulders, my dad was wasn't just handsome, he was movie star handsome.





Even as a young boy I couldn't help but notice how women (as well as men), reacted whenever he entered a room.





I had hoped that I would grow up to be just like him, but at 18, I stood at a mere 5 feet 6 inches tall and had resigned myself to the disappointing fact, that unlike my dad, I had definitely not won the genetics lottery.





No matter, I was shy, quiet and had managed an existence lived under the radar. As a little guy, I was used to being ignored and had even managed to convince myself that I actually preferred it that way.





The school year came to a close, and as usual, my family headed off to our vacation cottage for the summer.





By September, when I returned to complete my final year of high school, I was virtually unrecognizable from the unassuming little fireplug I had been before the summer holidays.





It was as though I had emerged from a cocoon, a drab little green slug one day and a brightly colored butterfly the next.





The change and the subsequent reactions of my classmates (and even my teachers), caught me completely unawares.





This was frightening and unchartered territory for me.





Suddenly, I felt as though all eyes were upon me, as I struggled to navigate what had become a bewildering and overwhelming new reality.





Virtually overnight, I had no choice but to learn to exist within the confines of my new and unfamiliar body. A body that drew more attention than I was used to and much more attention than I was comfortable with.





In my head, I was still the drab little caterpillar, only now, I had to learn how to operate the daunting new wings of the butterfly.





As a result, something as simple as just walking into a room became an exercise in mortifying awkwardness.





At times, I felt like an infant strapped behind the wheel of an exotic sports car, driving in the dark and struggling to find my way home.





For my 18th birthday, earlier that year, my dad bought me a set of weights and set up a home gym for me in the basement.





Virtually unused, they had collected dust for several months, but now, suddenly, I became obsessed with working out.





It became my way of taking inventory, of taking ownership, to acquaint myself with my new outward appearance, and to reclaim both myself and my new unfamiliar body.





Working out became therapeutic for me, as I channeled all my anxieties and all my frustrations into developing a body that became ever stronger and more muscular.





I endured hours and hours of ceaseless hard work and dedication.





It paid off.





After only a few short months, whenever I stood naked in front of a mirror, either at home, or in the locker room at school, I could see that the physique, I had so carefully and diligently sculpted, had become impressive, even by the standards of the men on my father's side of the family.





I liked what I saw, though I still struggled to claim the reflection in the mirror as my own.





As a little fireplug, I had been relatively strong and my determination and tenacity had made me a fairly good high school athlete. I had been a wrestler, and a good one, but now, my new body and my new strength, made me a terror on the wrestling mat.





I wasn't just admired by my opponents, I was actually feared.





And though my team mates, were all in exceptional shape, they were still 18 year old teenage, young men, whereas I, to their surprise and amazement, (as well as my own), had reappeared with the body of a grown man and a build that rivaled even that of our 30 something hunky coach.





To make matters worse, my wrestling singlet left nothing to the imagination.





Not only did it cling tightly, like a second skin, but as I sweat profusely during every practice and during every competition, the mostly white fabric became virtually transparent and revealed every inch of my body, including my cock and my balls.





As if that weren't bad enough, as I competed, my sweaty singlet would inevitably ride up between my ass cheeks and outline the newly massive, meaty mounds of my butt.





I may as well have been stark naked, since I was essentially fully exposed and on display, right in the middle of the school gymnasium and right in front of my all class mates, their parents, and, even my teachers!





Yet, unlike most of the other wrestlers, who after winning a match, flaunted their athletic physiques and strutted as proudly as peacocks, I would immediately get into my sweats and cover up as soon as the competition was over.





The reality, I was too ashamed to admit, (even to myself), was what I eventually came to consider as my dirty little secret.





Though constantly embarrassed, I found the very idea of my exposure erotically thrilling.





It quite literally made me rock hard.





Confused by both my shame, my embarrassment and my inexplicable arousal, I covered up as quickly as I could to conceal the inevitable and uncontrollable hard-on that threatened to expose me on a whole other level.





It didn't help that the minute I stripped off my singlet and stood naked in the communal showers, I became the center of attention, as though under a spot light, like a rare specimen exhibited in a museum, or a wild animal caged in the zoo.





As soon as I peeled off my sweaty singlet, I was met with a chorus of admirers relentlessly singing the praises of various parts of my physique.





In what they believed was a show of good natured camaraderie and admiration, my team-mates would swarm around me (while I stood among them stark naked and sweaty) and pester me to flex, do all sorts of body building poses and show off my muscles.





Hands from every direction would "bro-slap" me on my upper back (or on my meaty ass) and appreciatively feel up my pecs, my abs, my biceps, my quads and even my muscular glutes.





It was as though my body didn't really belong to me anymore and my nakedness became a means for them to tangibly satisfy their curiosity as well as to somehow claim me as their own.





Though I "reluctantly" complied, secretly, I really enjoyed being naked and groped by my team-mates.





I was usually the first to strip down and the last to get dressed.





It wasn't just my muscles that fascinated them.





In the showers, their eyes would surreptitiously steal glimpses of my cock.





Though no straight guy would ever dare admit it,





regardless of sexual orientation, gay, straight, indifferent or whatever,





most guys have a fascination with other guys' cocks,





especially if the cock in question is unusually impressive.





Along with everything else,





I had inherited the family jewels from my dad's side of the family.





The fascination of my team mates, for what was, essentially, the generously proportioned cock and hairy balls hanging heavily between my legs, embarrassed, unsettled and (alarmingly) aroused me.





More often than not, by the time we hit the showers, all the attention and the groping had led to an impressive semi (or worse) much to everyone's amusement.





I would turn my back, face the wall and escape under the cold water hoping it would drown out the laughter and deflate my wayward cock.





Despite appearances, it was still an 18 year old's cock, and had a mind of it's own.





Horse play, bordering on the sexual and the homoerotic, is common among young men in the locker room.





I remember later in college, when I was still a wrestler, a brood of Irish brothers on my team, constantly rough housing and smacking each other's bare asses in the communal showers, until, at least one of them, would inevitably get hard.





They all thought it was uproariously funny.





Hardly incestuous, it was just boys being boys, enjoying the bond and shared exuberance of their young, joyful manhood, by celebrating the recently discovered magic trick of every young man's favorite toy.





I knew my team mates found my embarrassment (and my hard-ons) amusing and enjoyed relentlessly teasing me, however, as much I longed to bond with them, my feelings of inexplicable arousal confused, unsettled and even terrified me for reasons I was was still too afraid to explore.





My embarrassing erections in the communal showers were becoming more frequent and more inevitable.





The mere anticipation of the muscle worship session that would await me, as soon as I got naked in the locker room, had become an embarrassing trigger to my uncontrollable arousal.





Outside of the locker room, I wore my clothes loose and baggy in a misguided effort to conceal my body and to avoid drawing the attention that led to the potentially embarrassing responses of my dick.





I had always been a good student and got good grades, and so, as I continued to hide behind my studious facade, of wire rimmed glasses and oversized clothes, most (but not all) of my classmates failed to notice the full extent of my transformation and to my relief, continued to dismiss me as a taller version of my former nerdy self.





That is until they saw me practically naked and sweaty in my singlet in the school gymnasium.





As word spread, more and more of them showed up to watch me during my wrestling matches.





Suddenly, I began to notice my classmates, (and even my teachers), staring at me as I rushed through the hallways to get to my next class, or as I sat uneasily at my desk.





Girls who had previously ignored me, were now giving me lingering, almost lewd, looks as though they could see right through my clothes.





It shouldn't have been surprising to me.





Since they had seen me, in my virtually transparent and sweat soaked wrestling singlet, (as it clung like a second skin to every inch of my body), they had a fairly accurate idea of what I looked like stark naked.





Even though I usually hid myself under countless layers of oversized, lumpy sweaters, for some reason, I still felt fully exposed under the scrutiny of their shameless, X-ray vision.





Yet, as much as it embarrassed me and even made me feel dirty,





I really liked it a lot.





To my surprise, I began to fantasize about displaying myself, totally and completely naked, and parading around for their enjoyment.





Once, after "reluctantly" allowing a girl to lift up my sweater and feel up my abs, chest and arms,





she "jokingly" suggested I do a full monty striptease at her birthday party that coming weekend.





I was seriously tempted,





(I think both she and I knew that I REALLY wanted to do it),





but I laughed it off nervously,





she didn't persist (I could have been easily persuaded),





and regrettably,





the moment passed.





I found myself jerking off to that fantasy for months.





The thought of gradually being talked out of all my clothes and remaining naked for the remainder of the party,





as both the entertainment and plaything of my host and all her girlfriends, (most of whom were my classmates),





filled me with a desire and a need I couldn't put into words.





What was becoming more and more the norm, was that the thought of exposing myself didn't just arouse me, it aroused me, so intensely, to the point where I was constantly struggling to hide my seemingly perpetual erections.





To my horror, my cock asserted a mind of it's own, ignoring my each and every effort to control the ever familiar tightening in my underwear.





I was both miserable and ecstatic at the same time.





Most disconcerting of all, was that I now found myself constantly daydreaming and imagining various scenarios where I would actually end up completely and totally naked in public settings.





I could think of nothing else!





The only one naked at a party,





or the only one naked in the classroom





or the only one naked in the principal's office, (draped over his lap and anticipating the bare palm to bare ass spanking of my life!)





I already knew what it was like to be the only one naked in the locker room.





I often lingered in the showers after evening practice, until all the other guys had left and it was just me and the coach.





He'd usually come out of his office under some pretext or other, after he figured out how willing I was to give him a good show.





At first I'd emerge soaking wet, holding my towel in my hand, instead of wrapping it around my waist.





I'd stay naked for as long as possible, stretching and bending over, to massage my sore leg muscles and allowing him a perfect view of my beefy ass cheeks as I seductively rubbed my towel between them to dry myself off.





It gave me an intense thrill to know he was greedily drinking in my total nakedness while I pretended to be unaware that he was watching me.





Gradually, we both grew more daring.





He'd offer to massage my shoulders, back and even my glutes, as he cautiously tested the waters to see how far I'd allow him to go.





Finally, one night after practice, he offered to give me some pointers on wrestling moves.





I knew full well, it gave him the perfect excuse to grope and manhandle me while I was still completely naked, but went along with it anyway.





I even allowed him to pin me on my back with both my arms held up over my head.





I could have easily overpowered him, but I didn't want to.





Instead, I wrapped my legs around him and could feel his hard cock through his gym shorts as he pressed it forcefully up against my ass.





I was now rock hard myself, and though terrified, I couldn't help myself, and would have gone as far as he wanted me to, had we not heard the janitor making his way from the hallway to the locker room.





Though we both got on our feet with lightening speed, and I quickly wrapped my towel around me, we were still flustered enough for him to look at us suspiciously as he mopped the floor around us.





Though terrified, I craved a repeat, but from then on, the coach stayed put in his office whenever I was in the locker room.





I got the message, and stopped lingering in the showers after practice.





My experience with the coach led to my most intense and most frequently recurring wet dream,





where I'd end up, both publicly exposed and completely humiliated.





During a wrestling match, in the school gymnasium, (totally packed with my all classmates, their parents, my teachers and even our parish priest!),





my opponent, (the mirror image of the short, stocky little fireplug I had been before my transformation) somehow manages to overpower me.





Throwing me on my back, he aggressively and relentlessly rips off my wrestling singlet





until he successfully pins me down, (stark naked and on my back),





grabs both my ankles,





spreads my legs wide open and up over my head,





and ferociously grinds his ample crotch up against my meaty ass.





As he utterly dominates me, his arousal grows so fiercely powerful, that his pulsating cock literally rips through his singlet and invades my quivering hole.





He fucks me with the intensity and ferocity of a bull in heat.





Though tears of shame stream down my face, I moan uncontrollably, completely out of my mind with raw, animal lust,





until I shoot rope after rope of my thick load, totally drenching my abs and chest.





The crowd (comprised basically of everyone I know) jumps up to it's feet in thunderous applause





and cheers him on to fuck me even harder.





I'd awaken from this dream, soaked in sweat and cum, shaken and deeply ashamed.





Yet, the fantasy persisted and the arousal was too real to ignore.





Inexplicably, the both embarrassment and humiliation actually intensified my arousal.





I found myself confused, tormented and worst of all, fearful of what I might do should I ever succumb to my forbidden and secret desires.





How far would I have gone with the coach had we not been interrupted? I knew the answer, (my recurring we dream left me no doubt) and it both terrified and thrilled me intensely.





After graduation, I avoided any and all situations where I'd be naked around other people and continued to conceal my body under layers of ill fitting and unflattering garments.





I believed that by becoming invisible, I would somehow find the peace and the time I needed to figure things out.





Then on a cold February day, less than a year following graduation, and after I had just turned 19,





I found myself standing in front of a men's swimsuit and underwear shop (in a part of town I later learned, was known as the "gay village").





Time seemed to have vanished as I lingered, helplessly fixated on the posters displayed in the window of nearly naked, impossibly beautiful men.





Rendered powerless by a force as intense and as irresistible as the most powerful magnet ever, I stood mesmerized, my resistance and my resolve rapidly evaporating.





How wonderful that they could display their hard bodies, so proudly, so freely, and so utterly without shame!





I had begun to acknowledge and accept that the idea of displaying my body, as they did, was a tremendous sexual thrill that I no longer wished to resist.





After all, suppressing my secret desires had resulted in my recurring and increasingly frequent wet dreams.





In an instant, my cock hardened as, for the first time ever, I gave myself permission, at least for a moment, to fully savor the delicious fantasy of my own public nakedness.





A sudden shrill honking, from the busy street behind me, summoned me back from my erotic daydream, like the squeal of an alarm clock, after a night of fitful and uneasy sleep.





How long had I been standing there, indecisively, in front of the little men's shop?





I had passed it many times that day unable to work up the courage to go inside.





Still it beckoned me, relentlessly, like a siren seducing a sailor at sea, casting a spell that aroused and unsettled me in ways I couldn't explain.





Lust, embarrassment and shame left me dizzy as I was caught up in a tornado of sexual confusion.





My heart beat faster from an erotic excitement that aroused me to where I was actually the hardest I could remember.





Helplessly drawn to it, like an addict to a drug, I knew I would inevitably cross it's threshold and enter towards something I neither understood nor could resist for much longer.





My hand trembled as I finally reached for the door knob.





My arousal had finally conquered my fear.





Gripping the doorknob steadied my hand, at least for the few moments necessary to open the door.





My legs took control and carried me across the threshold indifferent to my misgivings.





A chorus of raucous traffic, seemed to mock me as I closed the door behind me,





"IT'S ABOUT BLOODY TIME!"





(To be Continued)

 

[Heeleybutt]

Really promising start! Can’t wait for the next chapter!

 

[fegatan13]

Thanks!

Published 2nd chapter on LITEROTICA as FEGATON under Exhibitionist & Voyeur category.

 

[fegatan13]

CMNM/CFNM AWAKENING (Part 2a)

NOTE: Everyone in this story is 18 years of age or older!

The sales guy looked up, as I entered, and greeted me with a knowing smile.

Was it just my imagination

or had he actually seen me earlier,

loitering in front of his shop window and gawking at the hypnotically beautiful Greek gods, displayed so enticingly on his posters?

Without words, they had relentlessly beguiled me towards something so forbidden yet so tempting, I had neither the strength nor the will to refuse.

My resistance was as doomed as the convict awaiting the executioner.

Yet my heartbeat accelerated, fueled not just by fear but by an inexplicable and delicious anticipation.

Of course he had seen me!

The very thought was mortifying.

Though fully clothed, I had never felt more utterly exposed.

The heat of my embarrassment intensified as it spread rapidly across my face.

I looked down at my feet and managed to croak out an apprehensive hello.

Willing myself to look back up again, I returned his smile, uneasily.

He was older, (probably around my dad's age), and quite good looking.

His eyes were big and brown and his lashes were long, thick and black. He had beautiful, clear, caramel skin and sexy full lips.

He was probably in his late 30s, (maybe even a well preserved 40ish?), and though not as muscular as me, he was a stocky little fireplug and built like he worked out regularly.

Despite my unease, I couldn't help but notice how well his butt and his bulge filled out his trousers.

Busily unpacking what looked like a new shipment of swimsuits, he exuded a calm, confident and capable manner.

I found myself fascinated by his hands. They were big, square and powerful looking.

The sudden image of my naked flesh, yielding, to his strong, firm grip, flashed seductively through my mind.

I began to feel a familiar tightening in my underwear and

without realizing it, I licked my lips.

He caught me checking him out and I wanted to die on the spot.

Was it too late for me to back out?

I wanted to turn around and run back outside to safety.

Instead, as if on auto-pilot, my legs took complete control and carried me to the nearest clothes rack across the room.

Praying I wouldn't trip over my big, clumsy feet, I could feel my heart pounding wildly in my chest.

He stepped out from behind the counter, stood beside me, and very casually helped me pick out a swimsuit.

His manly aroma (aftershave, mingled with his natural, musky scent) invaded my nostrils with the power and force of an intoxicating drug.

Rendered completely deaf to anything he may have said, I was mesmerized by the movement of his luscious, full lips as he spoke to me.

In a daze, I watched, as he quickly and efficiently, sorted through the racks in pursuit of the perfect bathing suit for me to try on.

Before I knew it, he had ushered me towards the back of his little shop, and into the tiniest change-room I had ever seen.

It was barely larger than a broom closet, directly opposite the store window, and in full view of the busy street outside.

It was so cramped, I could barely move.

I literally struggled to breathe, as though I had been trapped within the walls of a suffocating crypt.

With every last ounce of my remaining self control, I closed my eyes and willed myself to calm down.

Finally, I managed to take off my gloves, heavy coat, thick woolen scarf, and boots.

I hesitated, for a few moments, before working up the courage to unzip my pants and pulled them down and off, along with my underwear.

The floor was cold, and I shivered.

At the last minute, I decided leave on my thick woolen socks.

Standing there, bottomless, my heavy cock flopping around, I accidentally glanced at the full length mirror on the wall beside me.

I already had a sizable semi.

How I was going to stuff it discreetly into the impossibly tiny pouch of the swimsuit the sales guy had picked out for me?

I had barely enough time to pull the suit up over my ass, balls and rapidly growing cock, before he startled me by jerking the curtain aside.

He, clearly liked what he saw.

His beautiful brown eyes widened noticeably, and this time, it was he, who licked his lips.

I quickly looked over at my reflection again.

The young man looking back at me from the mirror, had thighs that were thick and muscular and an ass that was meaty, round and firm.

The pouch looked impressively full.

An erotic current, fueled by fear, shame and lust, electrified my body.

In an instant, I was transported back to my high school locker room after the summer of my 18th birthday.

That same unexpected and secret thrill, from the reactions to my naked body, had now reignited a forgotten sensual flame.

What did this mean?

I could feel the raw heat intensify as it radiated from my body.

Afraid, I quickly looked away.

The floor was cold and I was (despite my thick, woolen socks) actually trembling.

The sales guy, very gently, put his hands on my hips, looked into my eyes and slowly shook his head.

Then, in the kind of low, reassuring voice a horse trainer would use to soothe a nervous young colt, he said:

"We can't possibly see how you look in that suit, unless we get you out of the rest of these clothes, now can we?"

I gulped audibly and nodded my head like an obedient child.

My heart beat even faster and my cock twitched at the mere mention of getting completely undressed in front of this stranger.

Had he noticed?

Then suddenly it occurred to me.

He said "we".

Was he going to undress me?

Was I actually going to allow this attractive older man, a complete stranger, to take off the rest of my clothes?

Even as I asked myself the question, I already knew the answer.

Confused and alarmed by the inexplicable compulsion to surrender to him, I felt another overwhelming wave of delicious anticipation wash over me.

The heat of my arousal intensified until it raged uncontrollably.

I could feel all resistance melting, as though it were nothing but hot liquid flowing rapidly down a drain pipe.

The sales guy reached up, and gently took off the warm woolen hat that covered my head and ears.

Then he ran his fingers through my thick mop of hair, shaking it playfully.

Before I knew it, he had lifted my over-sized jacket from my shoulders and slid it down my arms and off.

Then he guided my arms up over my head, and I leaned forward, as he pulled off my big, lumpy sweater.

Finally, he pulled off my undershirt.

It had sweat stains, under the armpits, that carried a strong musky scent.

I was embarrassed,

but to my amazement, he held it firmly in his powerful fist, raised it to his nose and inhaled deeply as thought it were a fragrant bouquet of freshly cut flowers.

"Mmm.. strong and manly for such a sweet boy" he said, gently caressing my cheek with the back of his other hand.

"Nice"

I could feel a strange tingling spread throughout my whole body, as an old forgotten longing almost made me cry.

No one had called me "a sweet boy" since before my sudden transformation into manhood the summer after my 18th birthday.

I had just turned 19, and was still not accustomed to my new body.

I felt a fraud, as though I were still a child pretending to be a grownup.

My unfamiliar body felt like I was wearing one of my dad's large, hand me down suits.

Finally, the sales guy knelt in front of me, lifted first one foot and then the other, as he took off each of my thick woolen socks.

Now, even my feet were bare.

As he slowly removed each article of my clothing, I could sense the gradual shedding of all my inhibitions and all my defenses.

Having tenderly and thoroughly undressed me, he gathered up all my of clothes, including my boots and heavy coat, and took them away, to store them securely behind his counter.

He had separated me from every single last article of my clothing, and left me wearing nothing, but a skimpy little swimsuit, just like the impossibly beautiful hunks, on the posters, displayed in his shop window.

Yet, I felt none of their manly confidence, none of their languid sensual ease, and none of their testosterone fueled bravado.

Instead, I just stood there, like a terrified little boy lost in a shopping mall.

Part of me wanted to hide myself behind the curtain, but another part, much stronger, compelled me, like an overwhelming addiction, to stay as I was.

The busy street was barely twenty feet from where I was standing, the curtain was wide open and I was fully exposed, (practically naked), to anyone passing by outside.

It was both my worst nightmare and my most secret, most intense, and most uncontrollable desire.

When he returned, his eyes scanned my body from top to bottom, and the bulge in his pants was noticeably larger.

I was certain he could see that my own cock had continued to swell in the pouch that could barely contain it.

"Now let's see how this fits." He said efficiently, as he nonchalantly placed his strong hands back on my hips.

My cock responded to his touch with a twitch that he certainly must have noticed.

He slowly and very methodically ran his powerful fingers, first under the waistband and then along each of the leg openings, taking his time to properly adjust the suit on my body.

In the process he (accidentally?) brushed his thumbs, ever so lightly, along my cock and my balls so that I almost thought I had imagined it.

Though his hands were large and powerful, his touch was as soft and as sensual as an erotic whisper.

As I fell gradually, into a deep, sensual, slumber, the loud, raucous traffic outside was slowly fading, far, far away.

Then, with his hands returning to my hips, he gently turned me around and slid both his palms over my ass, tenderly (and methodically) smoothing the back of the suit over my ample, muscular mounds.

I let him go on.

It was as though, in a trance, I had succumbed to the exceptional skill of the most expert and most gifted of hypnotists.

He turned me around once more, then, unexpectedly, reached into the pouch and casually took hold of my cock.

I gasped.

Our eyes met.

I could feel myself drowning in the dark liquid beauty of his deep brown eyes.

I was under his spell.

As if drugged, I simply lowered my eyes and looked down, passively, into the pouch while he took complete possession of my throbbing cock.

It was as though I had been rendered powerless, paralyzed, while a long concealed, and intense desire, was freed, at long last, from the shackles of every last ounce of my resistance.

He casually and ever so gently, maneuvered my cock as though it were a dial on a clock, slowly rotating it, clockwise:

From 12:00, to 3:00, to 6:00, and then to 9:00.

Finally, he decided "it" looked best laying along the side and pointed towards my right hip at 9:00.

Satisfied, he gently and almost lovingly smoothed the fabric over my cock, after tucking it back in place.

For a moment, when he was done, I actually thought he was going to kiss it goodnight.

Of course, as he manhandled my cock, it had grown impressively, much to his utter, complete and unashamed enjoyment.

Oh, how I envied his brazenness!

Of course I didn't stop him.

He turned me around again and smoothed the fabric over my meaty ass once more.

His palms still caressing my meaty mounds, he looked over at my reflection in the full length mirror.

I followed his gaze and saw myself, almost naked, succumbing, to his seductive touch.

We made eye contact in the mirror. He winked at me mischievously and flashed me a sexy smile.

I smiled back sheepishly, enslaved by a kind of sexual stupor.

"You know," he growled playfully, in my ear, as the ass groping continued,

"As hot and as sexy as you look in this suit..." He gently shook his head, almost nuzzling the back of my neck,

"I'm sorry, it just doesn't do you justice. With such a round, beefy ass..."

He continued, squeezing each cheek, as if to punctuate every word,

"...you should be in something that REALLY shows it off."

After a playful smack on one of my cheeks and one last lingering grope,

he reluctantly took a couple of steps back to survey my ass more carefully.

Then, almost theatrically, he put his hand to his chin.

"Yes, I think something in a low-rise..." he mused, nodding his head,

"Lets get you into a couple of more suits."

Then, without warning, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband, and in one swift motion pulled the suit all the way down to my ankles.

Released from it's confinement, my hard cock smacked up, defiantly, against my abs.

Impatiently, he tapped one of my ankles.

Though in a daze, I understood his meaning, and obediently raised first one foot, and then the other, as he slid the suit past each foot and off me completely.

I just stood there, in front of the little tiny dressing room, and in full view of the front window,

naked, rock hard, and utterly lost in the erotic abandon he had just unleashed.

"Mmm," His voice now velvety, low and husky, "very nice" and he, mischievously, with the lightest touch imaginable, slid his dark index finger over the length of my engorged, milky white, shaft.

Then he stood up, and playfully tousled my hair again, before gently lifting my chin with one hand while firmly taking hold of my cock with the other.

I lowered my eyes and parted my lips. I thought he was going to kiss me.

Instead, he moved his hand from my chin and brushed his thumb softly and gently along my lips, moistening them with my own saliva.

Then he looked into my eyes.

"For such a big, strong guy" he whispered softly, as he squeezed my cock in his powerful fist,

"you're really just a sweet, gentle, boy, aren't you?"

I melted, stifled a whimper down into the back of my throat and swallowed hard.

He seemed to know me better than I did myself.

He caressed my burning cheek affectionately, with the back of one hand, while still massaging my cock within the powerful grip of the other.

"So fucking adorable and so incredibly hunky at the same time." he said, more to himself than to me.

Finally, he knelt back down in front of me, cupped my balls gently and slid his thumb, still covered in my own saliva, along the full length of my hard cock, back and forth, before taking it firmly again in his powerful fist.

We made eye contact, as he looked up at me.

I could actually feel his hot breath stir the fine hairs on my balls, when suddenly, he lightly brushed his luscious, full lips along my shaft and flicked his tongue playfully, (just once), on the very tip of my throbbing knob.

I rolled back my eyes, unable to suppress the moan, that had just escaped from very depths of my long imprisoned need.

All the blood that had seemingly drained from my brain was now pulsing violently in my cock.

Then, abruptly, he let go of both my cock and my balls and got back up on his feet.

"Now lets find you that low-rise suit." he said

With that, he headed towards the front of the shop, leaving me standing there naked, hard, and frustrated.

Yet again, he left without drawing the dressing-room curtain.

Loud honking of horns, from the busy traffic outside, now summoned me back from my erotic slumber.

Slowly awakening, as if from a wet dream interrupted by an annoying alarm clock, I looked towards the window.

It had starting snowing heavily outside.

Suddenly, I realized, that this time, anybody passing by the shop could glance towards the window and would most probably see me,

not in just a skimpy little swimsuit as before,

but totally and completely naked, AND rock hard!

My heart pounded loudly in my chest, overwhelmed by a raging tempest of conflicting and confusing emotions.

Fear, it seemed, was now working in tandem with Arousal and both had joined forces with Shame to carry me up to the very summit of Lust.

As the sales guy fumbled through the racks, in pursuit of that still elusive, perfect suit,

the door swung wide open, allowing a gust of ice cold air to enter, like an unwelcome guest.

Two very dapper older gentlemen, in their late 40s or early 50s, stood in the doorway.

They stomped the snow off their feet and removed their fedoras to shake off even more snow.

Then they each re-positioned their hats back on their heads, before carefully brushing off the snow from each other's shoulders.

They entered the shop and finally shut the door behind them.

They both wore big, heavy, expensive looking coats.

I panicked, yet didn't move to draw the curtain nor hid behind it.

Their presence and the rush of the ice cold air, made me even more aware of my complete and total nakedness.

I felt more vulnerable than I could ever remember and experienced a thrill of sexual energy course throughout my whole body that seemed to electrify my already rock hard cock.

I closed my eyes, for a brief moment, afraid that both my heart and my cock were on the verge of exploding.

As they entered the shop, their eyes widened as soon as they saw me standing there, young, naked, vulnerable and obscenely hard.

I opened my eyes.

They looked like hungry wolves about to devour Bambi.

I shivered.

We made eye contact. They both smiled at me, flashing their teeth.

One of them gave me wink.

Sheepishly, I smiled back, lowering my eyes down to my hard cock, and shifted my weight uneasily from one foot to the other.

My fully erect cock bobbed up and down almost comically as I moved.

I still made no attempt to either cover myself nor to draw the curtain.

I just stood there naked, frozen in place, my cock hard and my face red.

The sales guy, facing one of the racks, looked over his shoulder as he heard them come in.

"I'll be right with you, gentlemen." He said, breezily, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to have a young man standing naked and rock hard in his shop,

and in that part of the city (what I later learned was referred to as the "gayborhood") maybe it was.

"No, take your time, please." said one of the men

"We're in no hurry!" grinned his friend.

They both stood there brazenly enjoying the show, and though mortified with embarrassment and shame,

I let them.

Finding myself completely naked and hard, in this public place, in front of three fully clothed older men, was intensely thrilling beyond anything I had ever imagined.

My most secret fantasy was becoming a reality.

I had hoped to somehow own my nakedness, by claiming it,

instead, I was slowly beginning to discover,

that my nakedness, was, in fact, owning me!

What's more, I was becoming it's willing, hungry, and eager slave.

The sales guy looked over to where I was standing.

My face was bright red, and I had made no attempt to hide behind the safety of the curtain he had so carelessly left wide open.

He grinned wickedly and winked at me.

With the perfect, (and even skimpier) low-rise suit held firmly in his manly fist, he headed towards me, knelt at my feet, and held it out for me to step into.

Obediently, I lifted first one foot and then the other as he pulled the suit over each ankle, all the way up, past my thighs and struggled to get it over my ample ass and hard cock.

Then he "adjusted" me as before, (though not as gently this time), while the two older gentlemen watched, like famished dogs awaiting their diner.

He grabbed my hips firmly and swung me around to methodically smooth the suit over my ass, and finished by giving it a playful swat (definitely harder this time).

I yelped as the two older gentlemen exchanged glances and chuckled.

I looked at myself in the mirror. The suit was cut so low that about a third of my crack was exposed.

My face flushed and my cock swelled.

I could still feel where his hand had smacked my ass.

 

[fegatan13]

CMNM/CFNM AWAKENING (Part 2b)

It stung, but as I rubbed it, I realized, to my amazement, that it had somehow aroused me.

I guiltily closed my eyes as the image of myself, beefy ass up and splayed over the sales guy's lap, flashed wickedly through my mind.

The sales guy swatted my hand away and dug both his palms deep into the back of the suit, took a handful of each of my ass cheeks (as though he owned them) and raising them up as far as he could, "adjusted" them, the way he had "adjusted" my cock and my balls only moments earlier.

When he was done, even more of my crack was showing than before.

"There, now that's what I call ass cleavage!" he announced, satisfied. "Perfect!"

I looked at myself in the mirror.

He was standing behind me, holding me firmly by the hips, and openly leering at my voluptuous mounds, as both of my meaty cheeks practically spilled out of the swimsuit that struggled to contain them.

One of the older gentlemen let out a loud wolf whistle.

It startled me and almost awakened me from what had become, a deep, sensual trance.

I was shocked that such an elegant older man had been so crude, (I was still very naive) yet for some inexplicable reason, I liked it.

I liked it a lot.

It made me feel sexy, a little dirty, even wanton, and, of course, ever more aroused.

He seemed to know what I was thinking and flashed me a disreputable smile. His teeth were beautiful, white and dazzling.

Sheepishly, I smiled back.

"Yes, I couldn't agree more." laughed the sales guy.

With a wink at Wolf Whistle, he let go of my hips while he moved back to get a better view.

Then scanning my body slowly from head to toe and putting his hand back to his chin, he pondered my ass until finally coming to a decision:

"Yep, that's the one, it fits him perfectly!"

With that he turned me around slowly to give the two older gentlemen a better look.

I was now clearly on display for their amusement.

I felt more exposed, vulnerable and horny than ever before.

My cock had remained rock hard the whole time.

Then he took my hand in his, led me out of the safety of the tiny little change-closet, and paraded me towards the three-way mirror opposite the counter.

We were now in the middle of the little shop, and in full view of the window.

I would be publicly exposed to anyone who happened to look inside.

The low-rise suit showed off half my ass crack.

What if more guys came into the shop? What would I do?

To my surprise, the very though heightened my arousal.

My face was crimson with shame but my cock, unmistakably, stood defiantly at attention.

What did this mean?

"What do you think, gentlemen?" asked the sales guy, unable to tear his eyes away from my ass.

"He does look amazing in it, doesn't he?" said Woolf Whistle, addressing his friend.

"I don't know", said the friend, raising his hand to his chin and stroking his salt and pepper goatee.

He circled around me and scanned my body slowly from top to bottom.

"Yes, yes, I must admit, of course he looks great in it, but with that body, he'd look great in a dirty dish rag."

"Though, that's the point, isn't it?" he continued with a mischievous grin while positioning himself behind me, "as good as he looks in it, I definitely think he looks much better with it off"

With that, he slid his finger playfully along the back of my waistband, lifted the suit slightly away from my body and pulled it all the way down to the very bottom of my crack leaving my both meaty ass cheeks fully exposed.

He stood back to admire them openly.

Then he winked mischievously at Sales Guy and in a low conspiratorial tone, he added,

"We were on our way home, happened to glance at your window and..."

The admission that they had come in because they had seen me fully and completely exposed from the shop window outside,

not only confirmed my fear it also further inflamed my desire.

How many other men (and women) had passed by the window that day, and had seen me like that?

The friend went on, waving his arm up and down towards me,

"This body is a work of art. It should be displayed with as little to conceal it as possible."

"Don't you have anything a... little more revealing?"

MORE revealing? I thought.

What could be MORE revealing? An X-ray?

"Of course I do" said Sales Guy excited, and quickly headed towards one of the racks to find it.

He fumbled furiously through assorted suits until,

"Ah, success, here it is!" He pulled it from the rack and handed it to the friend for his approval.

"I sell a lot these to the male exotic dancers who work the various clubs in the neighborhood."

"Fuck yeah, now there's an idea!" cried Wolf Whistle, suddenly animated and seemingly awakening from the trance of having leered at my bare ass for at least the last half hour.

"Our young friend here would make a bloody fucking fortune! They'd line up around the block for a chance to see this!"

He said, moving close behind me,

as he helped himself to a handful of one of my naked ass cheeks and wrapped his arm around me to squeeze one of my pecs, his thumb dangerously close to one of my sensitive nipples.

Suddenly I remembered my classmate,

the girl who had proposed my doing a full monty striptease at her birthday party,

and the weeks I had spent jerking off to the fantasy of actually going through with it.

"He'd make even more money doing private... um... private parties"

said the friend, casually, as he inspected the "male stripper suit", examining the tiny pouch, and turning it inside-out.

Then he handed it to Wolf Whistle, who reluctantly let go of my ass to retrieve it.

"Let's get this one off" said the Sales Guy.

He knelt down in front of me.

Only this time, when he hooked his thumbs into the waistband, he pulled the suit down ever so gradually, like a sensual, slow motion striptease, past my hips, revealing more and more of my shaft, until my cock popped out and hit my abs with a loud thwap.

"Fucking bloody hell" muttered Wolf Whistle.

Sales Guy paused, for a moment, then resumed the unveiling, past my thighs, calves and all the way down to my ankles.

I obediently raised each foot in turn as he slid the suit past my ankles and off me completely.

Then he turned me around so that I was now facing away from him.

I looked in the three-way mirror and saw that he was lingering on his knees, and staring hungrily at my naked, ample cheeks.

His face was so close to my ass, I could feel his hot breath and I wondered if he was actually going to go for it.

The image of his beautiful face buried deep into my ass flashed across my mind

as an erotic current ran up and down my spine powered both by his lust and his heavy breathing.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

I was totally and completely naked again.

Only this time, I wasn't just standing naked within the safety of the tiny little change-closet and it's curtain.

I was standing naked, right in the middle of the little shop and even closer to the front window (and the busy street outside) than before.

Naked and hard, I stood before three fully clothed, older men, who were greedily lapping up every inch of my nakedness like thirsty dogs during a heat wave.

There was now absolutely no doubt, whatsoever, that since I was in full view of the window overlooking the busy street outside, I could be seen by anyone passing the shop window just as Wolf Whistle and friend had seen me earlier.

My heart pounded wildly in my chest.

For a moment I felt as though my legs were going to give way. The multitude of conflicting emotions flooded my brain and made my head swim.

I realized that I hadn't just been on display,

I had willingly and freely granted, three complete strangers, unlimited access to my body.

They were literally dressing and undressing me however and whenever they wished.

I was allowing them to do as they liked with neither resistance nor protest

and was still too ashamed to admit that I was enjoying being naked and hard,

as well as being groped and manhandled.

I had never been so intensely aroused!

Sales Guy got back up to his feet and turned to the friend.

"Is that what you had in mind?"

he asked pointing to the suit in Wolf Whistle's hands.

They both grinned.

"GREAT! Lets see how he looks in it. Shall we?"

and he reached out to retrieve the suit.

"Will you allow me, Sir?" asked Wolf Whistle with a wink.

Sales guy nodded and winked back.

He stepped aside, as though I were his property to share, and gallantly motioned Wolf Whistle towards me, with the theatricality of a magician who had just made all my clothes disappear.

"But of course," He said generously. "please, do be me my guest, Sir!"

"Thank you so much, Sir" replied Wolf Whistle

Their exchange reminded me of the ever so polite chipmunks from the Saturday morning cartoons I had enjoyed as a child.

Only they weren't cute little chipmunks. They were hungry wolves cornering their prey.

Wolf Whistle took off his gloves and hat and handed them to his friend. His salt and pepper hair was impeccably groomed.

He was a very handsome older man who was about to manhandle my naked body.

The thought sent a deliciously forbidden thrill coursing through my body.

I felt so dirty and so ashamed and yet the shame seemed to increase my lust exponentially.

He knelt in front of me, holding the suit for me to step into.

His face was barely an inch from my hard cock, which bobbed comically between us, as I shifted from one foot to the other.

He slid the suit past my feet, up my legs and over my ample ass cheeks.

He left my hard cock exposed, still bobbing, over the waistband of the suit. I could feel his hot breath and for a moment thought he was going to take me in his mouth, right there in the middle of the little shop.

Like the other suit, I had on before, this was another low-rise, showing at least half my ass crack, only the sides couldn't have been more than an eighth of an inch wide (if that) and the pouch would barely hold my cock and balls if ever given the chance.

I stole a glance at myself in the 3-way mirror. I looked obscenely naked. My cock twitched again.

I was still very confused.

Why was I so turned on by all this?

Wolf Whistle, who had unbuttoned his beautifully tailored coat before kneeling in front of me, reluctantly lifted the pouch up over my hard cock and "adjusted" it just as he had seen Sales Guy do earlier.

Only he took much longer than necessary.

By now, of course, he knew I would let him manhandle, grope and play with me for as long as he wished.

I was in heaven!

I was rock hard, began breathing heavily, and was on the verge of moaning.

Finally, he grabbed me firmly by my hips and spun me around, so he could have full access to my ass.

He dug both hands deep into the back of the suit, lustily grabbed a handful of each of my ass cheeks and pulled them up and apart to get that "perfect ass cleavage".

Then he slowly pulled his palms out of the back of the suit, while running the middle finger of one of his hands slowly and seductively up between my ass crack, accidentally brushing it up against my hole.

I held my breath to stifle a moan.

Not yet satisfied, he gently smoothed the fabric over my ass, with his palms.

I didn't stop him.

He gave me a hard, playful swat on my right buttock.

I yelped and my eyes rolled back in my head as I rubbed my sore ass. He pushed my hand aside, replacing it with his own, and softly caressed my tender cheek possesively, as if to soothe it.

Meanwhile, his friend came over to my left, hooked his thumb inside the suit, lifted it away from my body and started to fiddle with what looked like a tiny little buckle.

"Is this decorative?" he asked Sales Guy.

Wolf Whistle had moved even closer behind me, his body practically engulfing mine,

I could feel the chill on his winter coat against my naked skin and his hot breath on the back of my neck.

"The clasps actually work" explained Sales Guy. " It's how the strippers take it off while performing onstage. Here, let me show you."

With that, he moved to my right, lifted the suit away from my body and fiddled with the clasp until it snapped open.

"Oh, yes, I see," said the friend. "Like this?" and snapped open the other clasp.

Wolf Whistle momentarily stepped back, and let go of my ass cheeks.

I looked down as both the front and back of the suit fell, revealing my cock and my ass.

I spread my legs a little further apart, to dislodge the suit, and we all watched as it fluttered to the floor and landed at my bare feet.

Sales Guy quickly snatched it up.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was naked, once again, and rock hard, in the middle of the little shop, and surrounded by three fully clothed older men.

I turned my head and looked towards the window. It was snowing heavily and looked colder than ever outside.

The loud traffic from the busy street was now a long forgotten and discarded memory.

I felt like a sexual haze had descended to engulf me like an evening mist on a sweltering summer evening.

Wolf Whistle, resumed his position, only now. instead of gently caressing, he was openly groping and kneading my naked ass cheeks.

He raised one of his hands and ran his thumb along my lips while still groping my ass with his other hand.

As if reading his mind, I opened my mouth and began wantonly sucking on his thumb, getting it thoroughly wet, until he extracted it from my mouth and seductively slipped it between my ass crack.

While sliding it brazenly, up and down, along my hole, (it had been no accident) and teasing it mercilessly, he hungrily nuzzled the back of my neck with his hot, wet, mouth.

I trembled.

He wrapped an arm around me, started kneading my right pec and began flicking one of my sensitive nipples with his thumb.

"Mmm..sexy, sexy boy..." he growled in my ear.

"You love being naked like this, don't you? Fucking hot, hunky, exhibitionist, aren't you?"

Is that it? I wondered. Is that what I am, an "exhibitionist"? Is that what all this means?

"Will you be coming over to our place to give us private shows? Be our naked private dancer?" He went on, as he continued to maul me.

"Or maybe at our next party, for all our dinner guests, you'll be our naked butler for the evening?"

I moaned as he continued to pinch and pull at my nipples.

"Oh yeah, there you go. Sexy, sexy boy, You'd like that, wouldn't you? Not a stitch of clothes on, answering the door stark naked and serving food and drinks to a room full of my swanky guests? Everybody watching you, drooling over your hot body, the only one totally and completely naked?"

"Maybe we'll start you off fully dressed in a proper butler's uniform and spend the rest of the evening undressing you slowly, one article of clothing at a time. You love being slowly undressed, and played with don't you?"

"Would you like to live out that fantasy hunky boy?

We can definitely make that happen for you."

"God, you're so fucking hot "

I felt an electric charge run from my nipples and spread throughout my whole body, as he mercilessly continued to play with them, pinching and pulling them until I thought I would lose my mind.

My eyes rolled back, I threw back my head onto Wolf Whistle's shoulder and moaned uncontrollably.

"Mmmm...oh yes, that's right, baby, I thought so,"

He said as he nibbled my ear lobe with his beautiful teeth and worked his tongue along my neck and inside my ear.

"We're going to have to keep finding all sorts of ways to get you totally and completely naked, in public, to satisfy all these exhibitionist tendencies of your's, aren't we, sexy boy?"

A bead of pre-cum slowly oozed from the tip of my cock.

The friend immediately fell to his knees and eagerly lapped it up before it could fall to the floor.

The incongruity of having a distinguished older gentleman on his knees and shamelessly worshipping at the altar of my cock, though confusing, was both exhilarating and intoxicating.

Yet any feelings of exultation were short lived as he quickly took complete control of my cock.

Though it was he who was on his knees, I realized that it was I who had become the dominated slave.

The pretext of the swimsuit fashion show was now clearly over.

They both continued working me over with expert tongues.

Wolf Whistle slowly slid his tongue from inside my ear, across my neck, down my spine and all the way down to the small of my back.

Once he was on his knees behind me, I could feel his hot, heavy breath on my ass. The light dusting of hair on my ass cheeks stood at attention.

He put his palms on them and caressed them gently before running his bristly, bearded face, ever so lightly, against my naked skin.

It sent a shiver up my spine.

Grabbing a handful of each cheek, he parted them, revealing my quivering hole, then he teased the perimeter with soft, wet, gentle licks, before burying his bristly face between them and plunging his tongue deep inside me.

I rolled back my eyes and moaned loudly.

Meanwhile his friend was proving to be an expert cocksucker, playing my cock like a virtuoso playing a trumpet in a concert symphony.

Ever increasing the crescendo of sexual tension, he brought me to the very precipice over and over without ever allowing me the exquisite pleasure of release.

He used his skill like a sadistic and accomplished master, showing absolutely no mercy to my ever frustrated cock.

My balls ached for the release he seemed to have no intention of granting.

As both he and Wolf Whistle continued to play with my body, as though it were an instrument as priceless as a Stradivarius, a symphony of sensations vibrated right through me, and lifted me up to the very summit of a sublime eroticism I had never before experienced.

Suddenly everything went dark.

I heard a click and looked towards the front of the shop.

Sales guy had shut off the light, locked the door and turned over the sign from

"OPEN" to CLOSED".

The sun had set and a lonely street lamp opposite the shop barely illuminated the dark night outside.

(To Be Continued... )

 

[jln89]

NOOO! Damn you! I was enjoying that A LOT!

 

[swagger81]

Woof! Hot story!

 

[Arecio17]

Love it. Please continue!

 

[Posingstrap]

NOTE: Everyone in this story is at least 18 years of age or older!





During the summer following my 18th birthday, I underwent a sudden and unusually rapid transformation.





Until then, everyone in my family (myself included) assumed that I had taken after my mother's side.





While the women in my mother's family were considered dainty and "petite", the men were just plain stocky and short.





Conversely, on my father's side, my dad, his brothers and my grandfather were tall, well built, and handsome.





In fact, with his rugged, square jaw and impossibly wide shoulders, my dad was wasn't just handsome, he was movie star handsome.





Even as a young boy I couldn't help but notice how women (as well as men), reacted whenever he entered a room.





I had hoped that I would grow up to be just like him, but at 18, I stood at a mere 5 feet 6 inches tall and had resigned myself to the disappointing fact, that unlike my dad, I had definitely not won the genetics lottery.





No matter, I was shy, quiet and had managed an existence lived under the radar. As a little guy, I was used to being ignored and had even managed to convince myself that I actually preferred it that way.





The school year came to a close, and as usual, my family headed off to our vacation cottage for the summer.





By September, when I returned to complete my final year of high school, I was virtually unrecognizable from the unassuming little fireplug I had been before the summer holidays.





It was as though I had emerged from a cocoon, a drab little green slug one day and a brightly colored butterfly the next.





The change and the subsequent reactions of my classmates (and even my teachers), caught me completely unawares.





This was frightening and unchartered territory for me.





Suddenly, I felt as though all eyes were upon me, as I struggled to navigate what had become a bewildering and overwhelming new reality.





Virtually overnight, I had no choice but to learn to exist within the confines of my new and unfamiliar body. A body that drew more attention than I was used to and much more attention than I was comfortable with.





In my head, I was still the drab little caterpillar, only now, I had to learn how to operate the daunting new wings of the butterfly.





As a result, something as simple as just walking into a room became an exercise in mortifying awkwardness.





At times, I felt like an infant strapped behind the wheel of an exotic sports car, driving in the dark and struggling to find my way home.





For my 18th birthday, earlier that year, my dad bought me a set of weights and set up a home gym for me in the basement.





Virtually unused, they had collected dust for several months, but now, suddenly, I became obsessed with working out.





It became my way of taking inventory, of taking ownership, to acquaint myself with my new outward appearance, and to reclaim both myself and my new unfamiliar body.





Working out became therapeutic for me, as I channeled all my anxieties and all my frustrations into developing a body that became ever stronger and more muscular.





I endured hours and hours of ceaseless hard work and dedication.





It paid off.





After only a few short months, whenever I stood naked in front of a mirror, either at home, or in the locker room at school, I could see that the physique, I had so carefully and diligently sculpted, had become impressive, even by the standards of the men on my father's side of the family.





I liked what I saw, though I still struggled to claim the reflection in the mirror as my own.





As a little fireplug, I had been relatively strong and my determination and tenacity had made me a fairly good high school athlete. I had been a wrestler, and a good one, but now, my new body and my new strength, made me a terror on the wrestling mat.





I wasn't just admired by my opponents, I was actually feared.





And though my team mates, were all in exceptional shape, they were still 18 year old teenage, young men, whereas I, to their surprise and amazement, (as well as my own), had reappeared with the body of a grown man and a build that rivaled even that of our 30 something hunky coach.





To make matters worse, my wrestling singlet left nothing to the imagination.





Not only did it cling tightly, like a second skin, but as I sweat profusely during every practice and during every competition, the mostly white fabric became virtually transparent and revealed every inch of my body, including my cock and my balls.





As if that weren't bad enough, as I competed, my sweaty singlet would inevitably ride up between my ass cheeks and outline the newly massive, meaty mounds of my butt.





I may as well have been stark naked, since I was essentially fully exposed and on display, right in the middle of the school gymnasium and right in front of my all class mates, their parents, and, even my teachers!





Yet, unlike most of the other wrestlers, who after winning a match, flaunted their athletic physiques and strutted as proudly as peacocks, I would immediately get into my sweats and cover up as soon as the competition was over.





The reality, I was too ashamed to admit, (even to myself), was what I eventually came to consider as my dirty little secret.





Though constantly embarrassed, I found the very idea of my exposure erotically thrilling.





It quite literally made me rock hard.





Confused by both my shame, my embarrassment and my inexplicable arousal, I covered up as quickly as I could to conceal the inevitable and uncontrollable hard-on that threatened to expose me on a whole other level.





It didn't help that the minute I stripped off my singlet and stood naked in the communal showers, I became the center of attention, as though under a spot light, like a rare specimen exhibited in a museum, or a wild animal caged in the zoo.





As soon as I peeled off my sweaty singlet, I was met with a chorus of admirers relentlessly singing the praises of various parts of my physique.





In what they believed was a show of good natured camaraderie and admiration, my team-mates would swarm around me (while I stood among them stark naked and sweaty) and pester me to flex, do all sorts of body building poses and show off my muscles.





Hands from every direction would "bro-slap" me on my upper back (or on my meaty ass) and appreciatively feel up my pecs, my abs, my biceps, my quads and even my muscular glutes.





It was as though my body didn't really belong to me anymore and my nakedness became a means for them to tangibly satisfy their curiosity as well as to somehow claim me as their own.





Though I "reluctantly" complied, secretly, I really enjoyed being naked and groped by my team-mates.





I was usually the first to strip down and the last to get dressed.





It wasn't just my muscles that fascinated them.





In the showers, their eyes would surreptitiously steal glimpses of my cock.





Though no straight guy would ever dare admit it,





regardless of sexual orientation, gay, straight, indifferent or whatever,





most guys have a fascination with other guys' cocks,





especially if the cock in question is unusually impressive.





Along with everything else,





I had inherited the family jewels from my dad's side of the family.





The fascination of my team mates, for what was, essentially, the generously proportioned cock and hairy balls hanging heavily between my legs, embarrassed, unsettled and (alarmingly) aroused me.





More often than not, by the time we hit the showers, all the attention and the groping had led to an impressive semi (or worse) much to everyone's amusement.





I would turn my back, face the wall and escape under the cold water hoping it would drown out the laughter and deflate my wayward cock.





Despite appearances, it was still an 18 year old's cock, and had a mind of it's own.





Horse play, bordering on the sexual and the homoerotic, is common among young men in the locker room.





I remember later in college, when I was still a wrestler, a brood of Irish brothers on my team, constantly rough housing and smacking each other's bare asses in the communal showers, until, at least one of them, would inevitably get hard.





They all thought it was uproariously funny.





Hardly incestuous, it was just boys being boys, enjoying the bond and shared exuberance of their young, joyful manhood, by celebrating the recently discovered magic trick of every young man's favorite toy.





I knew my team mates found my embarrassment (and my hard-ons) amusing and enjoyed relentlessly teasing me, however, as much I longed to bond with them, my feelings of inexplicable arousal confused, unsettled and even terrified me for reasons I was was still too afraid to explore.





My embarrassing erections in the communal showers were becoming more frequent and more inevitable.





The mere anticipation of the muscle worship session that would await me, as soon as I got naked in the locker room, had become an embarrassing trigger to my uncontrollable arousal.





Outside of the locker room, I wore my clothes loose and baggy in a misguided effort to conceal my body and to avoid drawing the attention that led to the potentially embarrassing responses of my dick.





I had always been a good student and got good grades, and so, as I continued to hide behind my studious facade, of wire rimmed glasses and oversized clothes, most (but not all) of my classmates failed to notice the full extent of my transformation and to my relief, continued to dismiss me as a taller version of my former nerdy self.





That is until they saw me practically naked and sweaty in my singlet in the school gymnasium.





As word spread, more and more of them showed up to watch me during my wrestling matches.





Suddenly, I began to notice my classmates, (and even my teachers), staring at me as I rushed through the hallways to get to my next class, or as I sat uneasily at my desk.





Girls who had previously ignored me, were now giving me lingering, almost lewd, looks as though they could see right through my clothes.





It shouldn't have been surprising to me.





Since they had seen me, in my virtually transparent and sweat soaked wrestling singlet, (as it clung like a second skin to every inch of my body), they had a fairly accurate idea of what I looked like stark naked.





Even though I usually hid myself under countless layers of oversized, lumpy sweaters, for some reason, I still felt fully exposed under the scrutiny of their shameless, X-ray vision.





Yet, as much as it embarrassed me and even made me feel dirty,





I really liked it a lot.





To my surprise, I began to fantasize about displaying myself, totally and completely naked, and parading around for their enjoyment.





Once, after "reluctantly" allowing a girl to lift up my sweater and feel up my abs, chest and arms,





she "jokingly" suggested I do a full monty striptease at her birthday party that coming weekend.





I was seriously tempted,





(I think both she and I knew that I REALLY wanted to do it),





but I laughed it off nervously,





she didn't persist (I could have been easily persuaded),





and regrettably,





the moment passed.





I found myself jerking off to that fantasy for months.





The thought of gradually being talked out of all my clothes and remaining naked for the remainder of the party,





as both the entertainment and plaything of my host and all her girlfriends, (most of whom were my classmates),





filled me with a desire and a need I couldn't put into words.





What was becoming more and more the norm, was that the thought of exposing myself didn't just arouse me, it aroused me, so intensely, to the point where I was constantly struggling to hide my seemingly perpetual erections.





To my horror, my cock asserted a mind of it's own, ignoring my each and every effort to control the ever familiar tightening in my underwear.





I was both miserable and ecstatic at the same time.





Most disconcerting of all, was that I now found myself constantly daydreaming and imagining various scenarios where I would actually end up completely and totally naked in public settings.





I could think of nothing else!





The only one naked at a party,





or the only one naked in the classroom





or the only one naked in the principal's office, (draped over his lap and anticipating the bare palm to bare ass spanking of my life!)





I already knew what it was like to be the only one naked in the locker room.





I often lingered in the showers after evening practice, until all the other guys had left and it was just me and the coach.





He'd usually come out of his office under some pretext or other, after he figured out how willing I was to give him a good show.





At first I'd emerge soaking wet, holding my towel in my hand, instead of wrapping it around my waist.





I'd stay naked for as long as possible, stretching and bending over, to massage my sore leg muscles and allowing him a perfect view of my beefy ass cheeks as I seductively rubbed my towel between them to dry myself off.





It gave me an intense thrill to know he was greedily drinking in my total nakedness while I pretended to be unaware that he was watching me.





Gradually, we both grew more daring.





He'd offer to massage my shoulders, back and even my glutes, as he cautiously tested the waters to see how far I'd allow him to go.





Finally, one night after practice, he offered to give me some pointers on wrestling moves.





I knew full well, it gave him the perfect excuse to grope and manhandle me while I was still completely naked, but went along with it anyway.





I even allowed him to pin me on my back with both my arms held up over my head.





I could have easily overpowered him, but I didn't want to.





Instead, I wrapped my legs around him and could feel his hard cock through his gym shorts as he pressed it forcefully up against my ass.





I was now rock hard myself, and though terrified, I couldn't help myself, and would have gone as far as he wanted me to, had we not heard the janitor making his way from the hallway to the locker room.





Though we both got on our feet with lightening speed, and I quickly wrapped my towel around me, we were still flustered enough for him to look at us suspiciously as he mopped the floor around us.





Though terrified, I craved a repeat, but from then on, the coach stayed put in his office whenever I was in the locker room.





I got the message, and stopped lingering in the showers after practice.





My experience with the coach led to my most intense and most frequently recurring wet dream,





where I'd end up, both publicly exposed and completely humiliated.





During a wrestling match, in the school gymnasium, (totally packed with my all classmates, their parents, my teachers and even our parish priest!),





my opponent, (the mirror image of the short, stocky little fireplug I had been before my transformation) somehow manages to overpower me.





Throwing me on my back, he aggressively and relentlessly rips off my wrestling singlet





until he successfully pins me down, (stark naked and on my back),





grabs both my ankles,





spreads my legs wide open and up over my head,





and ferociously grinds his ample crotch up against my meaty ass.





As he utterly dominates me, his arousal grows so fiercely powerful, that his pulsating cock literally rips through his singlet and invades my quivering hole.





He fucks me with the intensity and ferocity of a bull in heat.





Though tears of shame stream down my face, I moan uncontrollably, completely out of my mind with raw, animal lust,





until I shoot rope after rope of my thick load, totally drenching my abs and chest.





The crowd (comprised basically of everyone I know) jumps up to it's feet in thunderous applause





and cheers him on to fuck me even harder.





I'd awaken from this dream, soaked in sweat and cum, shaken and deeply ashamed.





Yet, the fantasy persisted and the arousal was too real to ignore.





Inexplicably, the both embarrassment and humiliation actually intensified my arousal.





I found myself confused, tormented and worst of all, fearful of what I might do should I ever succumb to my forbidden and secret desires.





How far would I have gone with the coach had we not been interrupted? I knew the answer, (my recurring we dream left me no doubt) and it both terrified and thrilled me intensely.





After graduation, I avoided any and all situations where I'd be naked around other people and continued to conceal my body under layers of ill fitting and unflattering garments.





I believed that by becoming invisible, I would somehow find the peace and the time I needed to figure things out.





Then on a cold February day, less than a year following graduation, and after I had just turned 19,





I found myself standing in front of a men's swimsuit and underwear shop (in a part of town I later learned, was known as the "gay village").





Time seemed to have vanished as I lingered, helplessly fixated on the posters displayed in the window of nearly naked, impossibly beautiful men.





Rendered powerless by a force as intense and as irresistible as the most powerful magnet ever, I stood mesmerized, my resistance and my resolve rapidly evaporating.





How wonderful that they could display their hard bodies, so proudly, so freely, and so utterly without shame!





I had begun to acknowledge and accept that the idea of displaying my body, as they did, was a tremendous sexual thrill that I no longer wished to resist.





After all, suppressing my secret desires had resulted in my recurring and increasingly frequent wet dreams.





In an instant, my cock hardened as, for the first time ever, I gave myself permission, at least for a moment, to fully savor the delicious fantasy of my own public nakedness.





A sudden shrill honking, from the busy street behind me, summoned me back from my erotic daydream, like the squeal of an alarm clock, after a night of fitful and uneasy sleep.





How long had I been standing there, indecisively, in front of the little men's shop?





I had passed it many times that day unable to work up the courage to go inside.





Still it beckoned me, relentlessly, like a siren seducing a sailor at sea, casting a spell that aroused and unsettled me in ways I couldn't explain.





Lust, embarrassment and shame left me dizzy as I was caught up in a tornado of sexual confusion.





My heart beat faster from an erotic excitement that aroused me to where I was actually the hardest I could remember.





Helplessly drawn to it, like an addict to a drug, I knew I would inevitably cross it's threshold and enter towards something I neither understood nor could resist for much longer.





My hand trembled as I finally reached for the door knob.





My arousal had finally conquered my fear.





Gripping the doorknob steadied my hand, at least for the few moments necessary to open the door.





My legs took control and carried me across the threshold indifferent to my misgivings.





A chorus of raucous traffic, seemed to mock me as I closed the door behind me,





"IT'S ABOUT BLOODY TIME!"





(To be Continued)

It is a story with not only erotic hotness but with that all-essential ring of truth. It captures the raging hormones alongside the raging insecurities of adolescence, those years when we didn't know what the fuck was going on, and yet also didn't want it to end. Well done--very well done--and with a minimum amount of description which nonetheless stokes the reader's inner fires and wants more, and then more.

 

[Posingstrap]

It is a story with not only erotic hotness but with that all-essential ring of truth. It captures the raging hormones alongside the raging insecurities of adolescence, those years when we didn't know what the fuck was going on, and yet also didn't want it to end. Well done--very well done--and with a minimum amount of description which nonetheless stokes the reader's inner fires and wants more, and then more.

I can't help but post this cartoon from c2000's MATT:

 

[fegatan13]

It is a story with not only erotic hotness but with that all-essential ring of truth. It captures the raging hormones alongside the raging insecurities of adolescence, those years when we didn't know what the fuck was going on, and yet also didn't want it to end. Well done--very well done--and with a minimum amount of description which nonetheless stokes the reader's inner fires and wants more, and then more.

Thanks so much Posingstrap!
Coming from a writer as accomplished and as talented as you are, well... very much appreciated!
I'm still very new at this. Actually, this my first story, and yes, it actually happened, pretty much as I described it, to a much younger me, many, many moons ago.
LOVE the cartoon!!!
Fegaton