COMPLETELY NAKED

I had always been careful not to be conspicuous, but I 
always wore the scantiest swimming suit of all the men 
in the pool or at the beach. Even at the beaches of 
Chicago, most of the guys wore these boxer trunks which 
reminded me of tennis shorts more than swimming suits. 

Since I was on the swimming team, and since I did not 
care to buy an extra pair of trunks, I always did have 
the smallest swimming suit -- although sometimes people 
would stare at me, I never paid much attention.

Recently, however, most guys have taken to wearing 
these lycra trunks, so this summer I sent off to this 
place in California that sells extremely scanty posing 
suits for bodybuilders. After they came in the mail, I 
put them on under my clothes, and started off for my 
lunch hour at the pool. 

I had done this a few times, and had felt very exposed 
while lying under the sun with the girls nearby, but I 
never expected what happened next. I had always 
listened to them talking about their boyfriends and 
other assorted fraternity and sorority happenings, 
imagining myself as a part of the activities. 

I never expected that I would actually become a part of 
their frantic world. I often had to turn over and let 
my back get the sun in order to hide my erection, and I 
had to take special care to wash my new trunks in order 
to prevent staining.

Here is where it gets interesting... 

I was walking toward the pool when this car pulls up 
and a bunch of girls start yelling "THAT'S HIM-GET HIM-
THAT'S THE ONE WE WANT-NOW!" Two big guys get out with 
knives, and about three of these girls come with them, 
holding small guns in their hands. "Get into the car!" 
they yelled. I couldn't argue, although I did look for 
escape routes. I didn't find any.

I was blindfolded and driven around for about one hour. 
I struggled all the time, but only heard female voices 
saying things like "He'll be a good one, we'll get a 
lot out of him!"

I was then led into a large room and strapped to a 
platform, and there I was: my ankles and wrists tied, 
spread-eagled, and facing about 200 to 300 anxious co-
eds. I had been abducted by a sorority. And the girls 
were not only hot and ready, they, were in the mood for 
what they called fun.

The girl in charge took a microphone and said, "Here we 
have a teacher. Girls, we really have him!" 

A loud cheer, like men at a strip show.

"What am I given for his shoes?" 

The shoes got $5. The socks $6. After each piece of 
clothing was stripped form me, loud screams rang out 
from the crowd of nearly uncontrolled women and girls. 
I suddenly realized that I was the prize in a fund 
raiser! The shirt got $50. Then came the pants. 

The bidding was competitive, and meanwhile I tried to 
escape. The bidding continued for some time, and every 
few seconds she would prod me with a needle in order to 
make me squirm more, and this had the result of raising 
the bidding, screaming, and applause. The girls were 
frantic, but one finally came up with the top bid. She 
got to cut off the pants, and I was left wearing only 
my thin new posing suit.

Then a new wrinkle came into it, one I did not expect 
at all: "Who would like to bid on the torture?" was the 
question. I saw electrodes, and they were connected to 
my chest, thighs, and biceps. With each bid, the money 
was collected and the voltage was increased. I jolted 
and throbbed on the stage in front of 300 women.

Then a collar was put on me, an electric one. "What 
song shall we make him dance to?" was the call. $4,000 
was the winning bid and I was forced to throb and 
pulsate to the rhythms while the women in the audience 
screamed and yelled. 

Each time the music gave a strong beat, I was given a 
strong jolt, sometimes on my neck, sometimes on my 
stomach, sometimes on my legs. BOOM, JOLT; BOOM BOOM, 
JOLT thighs; BOOM, BOOM, NECK STOMACH; and so it went. 

I was exhausted, but the electric shocks made me keep 
pulsating. Then the shocks stopped, and I was given a 
rest. The sweat came from every part of my body and 
began to cool. This caused me to shiver and my muscles 
trembled. I almost cursed the hours I spent in the gym 
lifting weights. I wanted to sleep, but as soon as I 
started to rest, another electric shock would hit my 
abdominals.

The mistress of ceremonies then did something I didn't 
expect: "WHO WILL BID ON THE TRUNKS? THESE LITTLE BITS 
OF CLOTH? WHO WANTS TO SEE HIM COMPLETELY NAKED? 
COMPLETELY!?" 

The bidding was frantic, and I don't remember the 
amount. But I was soon naked in front of 300 women, who 
were screaming and shouting, and I was throbbing to the 
rhythms of the rock station they hooked up to my body. 

"WHO GETS TO PLAY WITH HIS SHAFT?" was the next call. 

I had no rest while the bidding went on, still 
vibrating to the rock music. 

One of the women finally won, and she came up to me. 
She slowly put her hand on my penis and stroked the 
under-side of it. She tried every variation possible, 
and was very slow. I was torn between a desire to 
escape and a desire to cum. Every time I was about to 
cum though, she would stop until my shame and 
humiliation caused me to loose my erection. 

Then she put a cock ring on me and I found that I no 
longer lost it despite my embarrassment of being so 
exposed and dominated in front of 300 women. She 
continued to play and, after what seemed hours of her 
squeezing and stroking which caused more muscle tensing 
on my part, I came. I was then put out into another 
room and told that I could put my clothes on and 
continue with my business. 

Now anytime I walk down a street and see some women 
coming the other way, I remember that day.