Mike

So I met this guy online. He said his name was Mike. He said he was 35 years old. I let him know immediately that I was ten years older. He seemed fine with that. Actually, he said that he preferred older men because they had their act together. This is the reason I took Mike seriously.

We discovered we had a few things in common:

(a) we both were film buffs

(b) we both were gay guys in NYC

(c) we both hated doing the gym but we did have memberships and considered ourselves fit 

(d) this came out of nowhere: we both were intrigued by "CMNM" scenarios involving forced nudity, reluctant exhibitionism, lost bets, dares and the like, and neither one of us had explored such things for real; Mike said he was too "nervous" and I agreed readily

(e) both of us really liked strawberries and strawberry ice cream

We initially only communicated via email, but this eventually progressed to increasingly suggestive phone calls. I grew used to anticipating his phone calls. They were infrequent and he wasn't pushy or persistent. Mike gently refused to send a pic ("it's not necessary and frankly I don't really know how") and I wasn’t really concerned about that anyway (it wasn't familiar turf for me as well; I was used to bar encounters, preferred those,  and I confined my computer skills to basics only).

Mike was really my first online "friend" of any consequence and I really did not think this would go anywhere due to the age difference. But it did. And boy, what consequences those turned out to be.

Mike had insisted to me that he was "35" and in "corporate". I pressed no further. But I honestly told him I was 45, also in corporate, and willing to meet him eventually if he wished. He did not pursue conversation about our jobs as well, which was fine with me.

He did not immediately pounce on my request to meet, but out of the blue one day he called me and said he was going to send me a "very important" email about item (d) and that I should be sure to read it and respond to him because he was "dead serious." He warned me not to be surprised. His voice had a new tone: a lilt, a bit deeper, and frankly, lustier. I assured him I would check out his email.

I was extremely intrigued by this I have to confess. I had always liked Mike's voice on the phone, although he usually giggled a lot and usually sounded very young to me for a 35 year old individual in business. The new phone voice announcing an upcoming, possibly suggestive email, was weirdly refreshing; he almost didn't sound like the same person. (RED FLAG)

His email arrived and I read it as soon as I discovered it. I was taken aback by it. He proposed a "bet" situation whereby the loser would be "completely humiliated, and I do mean humiliated" by the winner. Other details were rather scant, but I hadn't really been expecting this type of correspondence from a devotee of "Back to the Future." He did stress that he was proposing CMMN and that the loser of this bet would be naked for an extended period of time while the winner would remain fully, casually clothed.

I considered this email and playfully answered it with the following caveats:

(a) no danger of arrest, so this could not be done in public

(b) the "deed" would have to go down in HIS apartment, since he lived alone and I did not at the time, being stuck with the most obnoxious roommate in history

(c) absolutely no cameras or third parties—this was altered a bit later by mutual consent and it would prove to one of the bigger errors I've ever made

(d) no pain

He responded with his own demands, which were rather startling considering up to then MIke had not really exhibited any kink tendencies or indeed, seemed overtly interested in sex between us:

(a) loser has to strip completely naked upon entry of apartment (if the loser was me), or be naked when winner arrives (if the loser was Mike); Mike had begun to consistently type "naked" in ALL CAPS

(b) loser has to do a significant amount of nude exercises as instructed by winner. MIke also began to type "nude" in ALL CAPS

(c) loser has to submit to fondling in ALL areas by winner as the winner dictates

(d) loser has to masturbate with a buttplug, naked, to climax, in front of winner—this was also altered a bit later on

I was not fond of some of Mike's requests (esp. the buttplug thing which for me was an alien concept), but I told myself to lighten up probably because I thought I would easily win any bet he would come up with (aside from his kinky ideas, he sounded rather charmingly naive in his emails and on the phone; unthreateningly, his favorite movie was the 1985 "Back to the Future". He had more than once described himself as a "Michael J. Fox type," which appealed to me a great deal and I liked the fact he was also into British films, dramas, "Law and Order", movie musicals and he was proudly oblivious to superhero flicks and "Star Wars", another common trait we shared.) He also repeatedly told me that my voice turned him on. This was mutual.

Well, let's just jump ahead. Mike won the bet and rather handily (no details needed, it involved the Oscars, of all things) and Mike wasted no time via a fast email letting me know that he was still on board "enthusiastically, and you can't back out." He sent me another teasing email quite quickly, proposing a Saturday afternoon weeks away (to give me time to "prepare psychologically"), adding two specific requests: (1) I should shower "thoroughly" before coming over, and (2) I should wear a "clean" jockstrap underneath my pants when I showed up to his place. I was amused because I knew I'd have to go out and purchase a new jockstrap since I'd misplaced the only one I owned. So one problem solved: the jockstrap would definittely be "clean." It appealed to me that he was concerned with hygiene. I laughed at this entire concept, since I hadn't donned a jockstrap in months, and the idea of a 35 year old guy requesting a 45 year old guy to appear in such a garment amused me and tittillated me simultaneously.

In the ensuing days, he called frequently but not too alarmingly so, after I had agreed to all his "terms,"  and the escalating excitement in his voice honestly turned me on, especially because he was so much younger and seemingly into an older guy, but I did begin to muse that at times, he sounded much younger than 35 due to some of the slang he began to use. But I just thought I was being an old fogey. RED FLAG 2

OK, I guess now you should know a bit more about me. If  i'd ever been compared to any celebrity, it was usually Van Johnson, or once in a while, Pat Boone and once a "milk-fed" Johnny Carson. The person who said THAT to me was in drag AND tried to grope me to no avail, althougt my admirer managed to rip open my admittedly cheap old plaid shirt--it was one of those summer experiences in the Pines. I was then informed by this drunk queen, due to my disinterest on this particular occasion. that I would make a fantastic Vivian Vance. I saved the abused shirt for as long as I could but it eventually became a dishrag once it got back into town.

I am in shape, blonde, fair-skinned, was then 45, 150 lbs., 5'8", NOT AN EXHIBITIONIST BY ANY MEANS, actually rather shy, formerly overweight, although I've diligently worked most of that off but still remained self-conscious about it (you never really get over being teased about being overweight in high school). All of this I told Mike upfront and unplugged. I wasn't taking any of this very seriously, really. Mike also claimed to be "absolutely shy and reserved, but I acknowledge I am good-looking" and expressed sympathetic encouragement that I'd worked weight off. Mike sounded warm, sincere, and caring. "I've always been  a swimmer, so I've never really had to deal with those types of issues," he informed me casually on the phone ons day, without a trace of malice. In fact, he added that he had had a boyfriend who was overweight, but "very handsome and funny, like you sound." RED FLAG 3

To be honest, Mike turned me on. He sounded intelligent and witty, if a bit kinky. I'd never seen him, because we just hadn't done that at this point ('let's retain some mystery," he said on the phone early on, an intriguing comment I liked.) But I wanted to impress him, so I worked out a bit more than usual before our "meeting" and watched my diet accordingly. After all, I was going to be naked (and then some) in front of a lean 35 year old swimmer handsome corporate guy who liked movies! It was going to be at the very least, intimidating. I mean, especially because he was a full decade my junior and this would be done in HIS aparrtment and HE would be fully dressed in sweatpants and a shirt. It was going to happen on a Saturday so I just assumed he'd be casual.

The day of my "performance" loomed and I got increasingly apprehensive because Mike emailed me daily saying he "couldn't wait" to see me "bare-ass naked" and "hilariously humiliate" me very "thoroughly." I began to fret over my cock size. During one phone call, Mike said this, firmly: "The whole point of this is humiliation. So I will not go easy on you,  David, know that now," he warned with emphasis and I could tell he meant it. I got rather tingly. Again, he was a decade younger. Would he find me attractive? Would he criticize the size of my penis?

The 35 year old Mike also sent me a list of the nude exercises he'd be requesting: 20 situps, 20 pushups, and 100 jumping jacks (jumping jacks? 100?). Oh fuck. All of that naked? The idea of naked jumping jacks did not appeal to me at all. It seemed the height of indignity.

I emailed him back asking what he'd be wearing. "Clothes, unlike yourself" was the INSTANT three word response, along with SEVERAL smile emojis. Great. I emailed him about the dreaded buttplug. "I will buy it the day before and it will be pristine," he responded in an email titled "buttplug." WTF have I gotten myself into? I actually asked myself out loud when I read that one. One of his last emails before the fateful day was entitled "the masturbation" and it informed me that I would not be provided lube "at first." I should have pursued that one further, but I just laughed, not realizing its implications at the time.

He had reeled me in. I just didn't realize it. He sounded fun and relatively innocent and safe (if odd, considering), which is what I needed at the time.

Mike's initial warning was a warning I probably should have heeded. And frankly I wish I had, in retrospect. You will know why if you finish reading this.

I groomed myself thoroughly that morning, showering, shaving and manscapring even (it was a gray Saturday in winter). On an impulse, I gave myself a Fleet enema.

Mike lived not that far away and I arrived on time, not a minute earlier because I was quite nervous and I did not want to appear in a hurry to unveil my 45 year old bod to this fit thirty-five year old man with a swimmer's build who I'd never seen. It seemed overeager and crass in my mind, even though Mike appeared to be clearly enthuasiastic. On the way over, I actually felt like I was getting more out of this than he was. To be the object of desire of someone a decade younger was fairly heady, I thought. If intimidating. WTF. It was only ten years, and I'd always looked young. I had a young mind!

Mike buzzed me in instantly. I was wondering if he'd even let me in, considering, and this unnerved me. He was UP for this. Oops. I was going to have to comply. He'd been waiting, obviously. RED FLAG 4

He was on the second floor. As I climbed the stairs, I heard giggling and discussion. It sounded like Mike was either on a phone or talking to a neighbor or something. I got more nervous. We had agreed to no third parties. I was not going to follow through if there was another person in the apartment.

It was a swank building, though, even though it had no elevator. I kept walking up, but slowed myself down, trying to asceratain who Mike was talking to. I heard a few words: "humiliate," "older," "control," and more than once "embarrass" and "naked." I had severe butterflies. I got to his door, which was ajar. I knocked and he told me to come in.

I pushed open the door, walked in and my jaw literally dropped in shock.

I was wearing a winter jacket, a bulky sweater over a white wifebeater, khakis, sneakers, socks and the requested jockstrap underneath.

Mike was standing in the center of his living room in front of a table with a computer and a phone, thankfully alone, wearing a designer SUIT AND TIE and dress shoes. He was short, about 5'6", clean shaven and also clearly not anywhere approaching 35. He looked like a college student or an intern. He was alarmingly fresh-faced. He had piercing, sparkling deep blue eyes, was immaculately groomed, dark-haired, lean, and grinning from ear to ear with a Pepsodent smile. I had never seen him before this, and so I was mortified at his obvious youthfulness (and my own foolishness at his obvious deception). He laughed at my reaction, which he must have expected, then after looking me up and down, he said two words to me, forcefully:

"Nice. Strip.”

He saw my apprehension, and further uttered: "Close the door. It locks by itself." I had to turn away from him to do this, but it made me feel a bit more at ease. The idea of even thinking of taking my clothes off in a room with an unlocked door waa not appealing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flutter of movement from my child "host." When I turned back to him, Mike had his hands behind his back. He continued to grin.

I froze. My first thought, literally, was "Really?" Mike appeared dressed for a job interview and he clearly expected me to take off all my clothes in his living room. So I said, with a bit of irritation, “Mike. You lied. How old are you really? Are you even legal?” He looked cherubic. And he looked happily anticipatory.

Mike was obviously expecting this reaction. Smirking, he replied “Just turned 22. Sorry. I'm sorry I lied but I didn't think you'd come over otherwise.”

I frowned. “ You are half my age, for God's sake. I don’t think we should go through with this.”

Mike laughed. “Why not? I don’t care that you’re older. It shouldn’t matter in this situation. Actually, don’t you think it’s kind of funny?”

I pondered my next move. I did not think it was funny at all. I was mortified and already embarrassed that this 22 year old knew of my fantasies to begin with and the thought of him seeing me naked and “performing” made my heart sink to my feet. Especially doing nude jumping jacks in this well-lit room. Just, no. But I had agreed already. Damn.

Mike said, “Come in and get comfy. We’ll have a nice day. I’ll make it fun. I reallly want to see you naked. I like big blonde guys.”

I thought about it, and since we had spent considerable time planning this, decided to throw caution to the wind. He WAS attractive and it was a very nice apartment. His “Back to the Future” poster was prominently displayed. At least he hadn’t lied about everything.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this with me?” I asked. “I am 45, you know.” I was hoping he’d change his mind due to the age difference.

Mike grinned. “Absolutely I want to go through with this. You’re pretty hot. As I said, I like blonde guys. There’s not a chance I’ll change my mind and I don’t think you would have either if I’d lost. Admit it. You lost. You gotta pay the piper, David. I'm gonna see you nude. I've been thinking about it all week. And after seeing you, I really want to play with you. That's a hot bod under all those clothes, I bet. And speaking of bets, you DID LOSE this one. You AGREED to get naked for me. You even said you were a man of honor. You have to prove it now.” (Indeed, I had moronically said on the phone that I was a man of honor.)

I must have smiled and acted flattered, even though I felt apprehensive at this turn of events. He looked so very young. MIke smiled even more hugely and played with his tie casually, clearly looking me up and down, encourraging me.

It was a gray day outside. But the temperature in the room was admittedly perfect, and it smelled of cinnamon and not overwhelming air freshener.

Mike repeated his entreaties: “I apologize for fudging my age. But it's not a big deal. Come on and strip. Let’s stick to the script. I want to see some skin. YOUR skin. Come on, we've planned this for weeks, and I cancelled some plans. You have to take your clothes off.”

He sure knew how to pour it on. Not believing what I was doing, I removed my jacket. I felt the jockstrap move under my pants and shuddered, knowing this was one of his major turn-ons. I also knew what was underneath the jockstrap and suddenly grew very apprehensive. If Mike was solely into size, my dignity was in trouble. This particular issue had never been addressed in any way. Initially Mike watched me intently as if he was reading my mind. He then did three things very quickly:

He turned up the lights using his dimmer switch, flooding the apartment with the light, then with flair and a grin, he donned a pair of expensive-looking spectacles, and then he flipped open a laptop on a desk. I had not really noticed the laptop upon my entry. All this was happening in his spotless living room and it was happening fast. He meant business and he wasn’t hesitant about showing it. “Keep going,” he encouraged. "I'm totally on board so far." He chuckled.

I wanted to stall and to think so I sat down on a rather plush chair and took off my shoes and socks, slowly. I remember I'd put on red socks. Undressing this way seemed like the best way to proceed intelligently and not lose face. Mike sat down at a desk and began to type on his laptop, casually at first. We had not discussed laptops at any time, so this caught me additionally off guard. For the first time, I noticed that there was a cell phone on the desk.

“What are you typing there?” I asked, intrigued but hearing my voice break a bit and not liking the sound of weakness in my voice.

He laughed. He had a very boyish laugh. I should have known he was younger than 35. He had always sounded young on the phone except for that call where he sounded horny. Stupid me.

“I’m gonna be taking notes,” he replied, nonchalantly.

Notes. I grimaced. Notes for what, I thought?

“Get naked, David,” he ordered. “Take off that sweater.” A 22 year old ordering me to strip naked. I silently condemned myself on my inane bravado.

I took off the bulky sweater, albeit reluctantly. When Mike saw me in my wifebeater, which clung to my torso, he wolf-whistled. “David, you have manboobs!” he exclaimed gleefully. I didn't care for his tone; it was derisive. I felt old. And frankly, I felt a bit ashamed and dumb. I don't like the term manboobs and I don't think most men do either. I prefer pecs, or even breasts, or tits.

It is true that I have always had slightly fleshy pecs, even as a young boy. If I work out a lot, they firm up. But even though I'd spent some additional gym time in preparation for this, I don’t like LIVING in a gym, so my pecs were currently still a bit on the soft side, although they were big and always had been naturally since youth. But I hated that Mike pointed this out so quickly especially since he hadn’t even seen them revealed yet and I cursed myself for not working out more. I didn’t respond to his comment, so he chuckled. And typed. He would type and keep glancing at me as I undressed. He did this very easily. Never for a second did I feel he wasn't studying me, but I did think the typing was a rather brusque way to conduct this scene. After all, I was revealing myself to him bit by bit.

I pondered if I should remove the khakis next but realized he’d be seeing too much, too soon—me in the jockstrap with my developed ass hanging out. So my only option was to remove the T-shirt and reveal my chest, which suddenly filled me with dread even though he'd clearly gotten an idea of it since the fabric of the wifebeater was close to sheer. Mike seemed to have a bit of cockiness in him, and I am sensitive about many aspects of my basically hairless body. I didn’t want him to make fun of me so quickly and I felt he was primed to do just that. The age gap suddenly loomed large for me. It's not a quick leap for an older man to feel old in the presence of someone younger and GQ-cover primed.

Swallowing hard, I removed the shirt. Since it clung, it did not come off in a flash, which added to the awkwardness of removing it under these strange conditions. Mike stared at me in silence. I thought he would tell me to leave. But instead he enthusiastically informed me: “Holy fuck. I have to quip about your ample bosom. Jesus Christ. You got some serious silver dollar nipples on you, David.” He grinned. And typed. I was mortified at this comment because he delivered it with unabashed boyish enthusiasm while flashing his pearly whites with a smile. He did have a dazzling smile. I wondered why he lived by himself. He was clearly a catch.

He was right again about my increasingly undraped physique. My nipples are large. Very large.  Comments had been made before about them, in passing, mostly by women around my college campus on warmer days when all of us guys paraded around playing frisbee and the like. Some guys had even made comments. And my nipples had always been and still were super super sensitive. I crossed my arms over my chest to cover them and I felt them stiffen underneath my forearms. When I had showered that morning, I had fretted that Mike would not like my big male nipples. Covering them now made Mike laugh and he typed furiously. “Go on, the pants next,” he instructed, chortling, knowing full well how exposed I was about to be after these mere minutes of meeting him. My stomach began to churn. He was really giving me the once-over unabashedly and I already felt kind of naked due to the fact he was so nattily attired and gorgeous. I wished I had not agreed to the jockstrap.

I unzipped the pants and turned my back to him, then decided to strip facing him so he wouldn’t see my butt so soon. The khakis weren't tight, but they weren't baggy either. I'd worn them to show off my ass, I admit.

I took off the pants. “Great, you must have jogged at one point,” he giggled, "Nice legs, and you sure are hairless," and he typed some more. I suddenly understood the concept of his "notes." He wanted to record all this for posterity of some kind.

Suddenly I felt super-exposed. The concept of CMNM was hitting home. The lights were very bright in the room. Too bright. There was no need for them to be this bright, and I thought about asking him to lower them, but somehow, I realized he would refuse, and I did not want him to realize how already unnerved I was.

“Please turn around,” Mike implored. “Let’s see that bulbous ass out in the open. It looked good in the pants.” Vanity is not a virtue, kids.

He was becoming quite forceful. But I did as he asked. He laughed. I felt bad. A hot 22 year old was staring at my middle aged (but firm, I will admit) ass. I knew my butt had always been my best feature as far as any allure went for other guys (and some girls). Suddenly the jockstrap felt like my only defense. I really did not want to remove it now. I really did not want to be naked, suddenly. I had not expected MIke to be wearing a fucking suit and tie on a Saturday afternoon. The scales here were wildly out of whack.

“My word. What an interesting tail you have. Pretty good rear end for someone your age. Shapely ass, David. Smooth. Rather large. Deep crack, which I like. You don't mind displaying it, do you? I'l bet that crack is visible even in underwear. I’m very pleased to see this tail so far. Two big orbs with the mystery in between. I want to see your asshole.” He typed something, chuckling. My backside was to him.

I stared out one of his drapeless windows to verify there were no observers in other buildings, and I felt I was probably blushing. No other buildings were in proximity to be able to look in, I realized, so I tried to calm myself down. What did "so far" mean? I had an idea but I shifted from foot to foot, not knowing what to do next but knowing there was only one alternative if we were to go through with our “scenario.”

“Before you get naked, please put one foot up on my couch, and keep the other foot on the floor” Mike said. “And bend over and spread your strong legs. You're going to show me your asshole now.”

Wow, I thought, he’s not wasting any time with the humiliation aspect. I was going to have to expose my anus to him. I had liimited experience in voyeurism of this nature, although I was no novice. But I hadn't been very active lately on any level. I remember thinking: "you showered for an hour, and you knew he was kinky, so do it." Indeed, other men had praised my butt before, and yes, even my asshole had received its share of accolades from time to time, although it wasn't something I paraded around exhibiting.

So this wasn't entirely new territory for me, although Mike certainly was effusive. I was slightly taken aback at his complete admittance of wanting to see my asshole this way after only knowing me for such a short time.

In this very bright room Mike wanted to see a private area of my body and I had only really known him for less than a half hour. I knew getting me nude and humiliated was his goal. He had made no secret of that. Then it got worse after I slowly did as he asked and I felt my buttocks part, because he chuckled, which made me feel rather silly and much older than I wanted to feel. Stripping, taking orders from a (much) younger man who was fully clothed.

“Good. Now, even though I can already see everything, I want you to reach behind with your hands and pull open your plump, pale buttocks. I want you to really yank open those cheeks.”

I did not appreciate Mike referrring to my ass as plump, preferring the aforementioned "shapely." I did not have a problem with "pale" because I was obviously not a sun god, this  due to the fact I was fair and burned easily. But I found his descriptions of my increasingly exposed body unnerving because in his way, even though his commentary was up to this point basically fair and accurate, I was not used to this type of commentary especially from such a younger man and Mike was unsparing in his delight at my predicament and he seemed to enjoy verbally teasing me. I had never been instructed before to "yank" open my ass cheeks.

The fact he'd put on glasses and turned up his lights underscored how determined he was to see as much of me as he could. He knew I was already embarrassed; it had to be obvious, since I'd been more or less silent for the last half hour. I knew where he was going with this stuff, and knew full well what he wanted to see exposed next--my very private butthole. And under these lights, that was going to be really exposed with nothing left to his imagination.

But I did as he asked, and was greeted to the sound of furious typing and more chuckling. :"WHAT AN AMPLE ASS," Mike screeched.

“Excellent. I'm impressed. Your hole is quite large. Much larger than I expected. I should have realized, given the size of your crevice. But I like looking at a big asshole. You must be a big bottom. But do you shave your balls? I see some little fine blonde hairs sticking out of your balls. I only ask because your asshole has no hair at all. I don't mean to insult you, but you do have pubic hair and hair on your head, but fucking nowhere else except a bit of blondie on your forearms and your legs. There's not even hair around those armpits or those huge-ass nipples. It's weird. I am surprised your penis is so insubstantial, as well, especially since your ass and your CLEAN ASSHOLE is so generous.”

Ghastly comments and they would be the first of many insults to come out of Mike the 22 year old. I felt the air on my anus and also, even though my back was to him, I felt Mike’s stare. He was that intense.

“You’re pretty hairless everywhere. Not even underarm hair.” Well, he was certainly noticing everything.

I did not respond. I was beginning to feel very vulnerable and definitely embarrassed as hell. I'd never been scrutizined this completely. At least so obviously and never with such rather crass commentary.

“Stay that way until I tell you to turn around and face me.”

It was a humiliating position but at least he wasn’t seeing me fully nude. I dreaded his remarks when he saw my penis. It’s average (OK, below average) and I’ve always been self-conscious about that. I had really expected to be the one giving the orders, since I was the older fellow in this equation. I had the idea that Mike would be unsparing in his observation. Based on what had transpired so far, he already had been rather unsparing and I had only been undressed for a few minutes. I mean, "crevice"? Not to mention "manboobs."

More typing. Definitely more chuckling. Murmurs of “good,” “nice,” and “hot.” And "flesh," and "erotic," which he made sure I heard. Which I guess was flattering. Maybe this would not be as bad as I thought. I tried to get into this. I'm a "man of honor"!

The typing stopped and I heard him approaching me. I remained in position. Next, I felt a finger tracing up and down my crevice, over my exposed asshole. Mike teased my hole in a circular fashion, giggling. "It sure is deep," he cooed. I felt completely nude and on display even though I had on the jockstrap. Mike inserted his finger, gently. "Nice flesh," he commented. "Thanks for showing this to me." Mike fingerfucked md for a few minutes. Then he removed his finger.

“Turn around,” Mike ordered. “Take that thing off.”

I turned around to get naked and swallowed hard. Mike laughed. “You’re beet red already. You’re in for a very long day. Relax.”

I just stood there clad only in the jockstrap. “Take it off, David, but take it off slowly. I want to prolong it. But it's time for you to get nude,” he repeated. “Let’s see what you got. So far, your skin is IN.”

I grimaced. I slowly lowered my last vestige of covering. Mike stared. My manscaped blonde pubic bush was slowly revealed. When my penis and balls became visible, Mike did the unthinkable, the unforgivable and he did it immediately:

He burst into laughter and it was not faked. I died. My worst nightmare. He then typed what sounded like a paragraph, laughing with abandon. He was actually shaking with merriment. Laughing at my nakedness, and obviously my exposed genitals. In defiance I removed the jock completely as if it didn’t concern me and covered my privates with my hands. It was startling to realize I was already touching myself intimately in front of this young guy.Somehow, MIke's response to my complete nudity was not completely unexpected by me, but it didn't mean I had to approve of it. His laughter, unfortunately, was unmistakably genuine and since I now knew he was half my fucking age, this stung very hard.

“No offense, but you must know you don’t need two hands to cover that. At least you’re a natural blonde,” Mike teased. He stopped typing and stared at me, adjusting his glasses and grinning. Or rather, leering.

"Davic, old  boy." said Mike. scientically but with a hint of lust, "you have a rremarkably small penis. For such a tall man."

This was bad, and it got worse. I knew my face was flush and I was ashamed of that, letting this younger man get to me so quickly,

“Put your hands behind your head and spread your legs, David,” Mike ordered, smirking. "Let's see all of you."

Reluctantly I complied, shutting my eyes, which prompted more laughing and typing. “My little brother’s package is the same as yours,” Mike conspiratorially jeered. “He’s ten years old. He doesn't have a bush, of course. Maybe if you manscaped more, your puny genitals would be more visible.”

A horrible comment. I shifted from foot to foot. “It doesn’t even jiggle,” Mike observed. “Not even a wobble. I am glad you are circumcised though. You ARE. aren't you? How embarrassing I have to ask you such a question. But it is hard to tell from over here since you are so small.”

I opened my eyes and glared at him. He typed. “But your balls are decent. They're certainly out of proportion to your manhood.”

Gee thanks, you lying brat. Where was the sweet guy from the emails and the phone calls?

“I can’t believe how hairless you are. I can even see the veins in those testicles from here. You’re really naked. N-a-k-e-d.” He typed, hunting and pecking.

These biting comments were slowly wearing me down. I don’t know what I had expected from Mike, but he was definitely having fun taunting me about my nakedness (and my cock) and he had not stopped grinning or typing since I removed my pants. He was typing furiously now while staring me down at the same time.

“What kind of notes are you doing?” I wanted to make his teasing stop. Mistake, because he replied, “Your body and of course, your humiliation. And, uh, your "penis" (he used air quotes), I’ll be sending these to my friends. They know what’s happening today and they want to know how it went down. A few of them have asked me to be as specific as I possibly can. And I'm going to. I enjoy writing. Listenn, your penis is cufe in its own way. I mean, it has a nice shape,, and color”

I groaned and was suddenly hyper aware of my nakedness and the very exposed position I was in. And the severity of my situation. I glanced at the pile of the clothes I'd worn, lying on a chair, on the floor,  which now served me no purpose. Mike giggled at my awkwardness and he saw me looking longingly at my clothing. “Don’t worry. Maybe I’ll exaggerate a bit on your behalf.” He looked at my penis when he said this. “But I pride myself on accuracy. I can tell you used to be a little heavy. You've got nice guns, a great ass and legs, some tone, and you have a considerable build, but you’ve still got a little belly and an inch or two, just not between your legs. You could easily have abs if you wanted to. You almost have some abs. I guess you don't go to the gym more because of your tiny penis and I can certainly understand that although I have never had that problem even though I am shorter than you. But plenty of guys with tiny penises undress at the gym, David. Sure, not as tiny as you, but it does happen. You don't HAVE to shower there, and even if you went into the sauna, no one would see an acorn penis anyway because of the steam. Even if there WERE no steam, no one would probably see it because obviously your pubes would hide it absolutely unless you shaved the pubes completely off, which frankly you might want to consider if you haven't and it is apparent to me that you have tried to consider that, and even if you don't do that all the way, you could still hide the little acorn with a dishtowel or something. And some guys might actually like tiny penises. You never know.” Mike laughed, and typed. He had described my body perfectly, if crudely, so I said nothing. I did not want to say anything to provoke him to insult me further.

“In fact, let’s do a little experiment,” he suddenly blurted out. He got up from his chair and went over to a desk, returning with a tape measure and a magnifying glass. This was brutal. I knew where he was going with THOSE. I'm not an idiot, although I was beginning to certainly feel like one for putting myself in this position and being so easily fooled about the age gap.

He walked over, crouched, and applied the magnifying glass to my exposed cock and balls, exaggeratingly pulling it back and forth as if he was having a hard time seeing through it. While he did this, he played gleefululy with my pubic hair, pulling on it and running his fingers through it rather sensually. “Well, you're definitely cut. I’m gonna guess—three inches,” he giggled, staring through the glass. "Good piss slit, if small of course. By the way, you smell real nice. But why is your scrotum darker than your little penis? That's weird.”

It was a small comfort that Mike appreciated my cleanliness. But I appreciated it over the increasingly intense mockery.

He put down the glass, thankfully, but what followed was even worse. He used the tape measure to measure my penis. As he did this, he toyed with the glans underneath my cockhead and I shuddered. I'm very sensitive there, like any man. He giggled, “No I was off. It’s only two and a half. And most of this is head. You have next to no shaft when you're soft. I'm sorry, David. Pretty small for an old man. No wonder you’re a bottom. This would barely fill up a thimble. I'm not even gonna try to get girth. There isn't any. There is simply no girth here.”

“Do you have to say such rude things?” I exasperatingly asked him, regretting the question almost instantly because I saw it made him not flinch an inch and in fact made him smile more widely.

“In your case, sadly, David, yes,” he laughed. “I'm sincerely sorry your penis is so small but there is nothing I can plausibly do about that yet. Hopefully when you masturbate later you can get hard and I can be more—impressed. Although I imagine when you masturbate at first, you only use two fingers. No way a fist could get around this little thing." He flicked his fingers over my penis. "There'd be no need. This penis would be small on a dwarf.” "Oh come on," I protested at this inane exaggeration. He laughed, went back to his laptop, and typed, giggling and glancing at me, shaking his cute little dark-haired head with abandon. He was having a real good time, at my expense.

“Thank God I have these,” Mike smiled, adjusting his glasses for effect, “and that I paid Con Ed, so I can see all your, uh, little charms,” gesturing to my exposed genitals with a rude dismissive wave of his hand. "You should just shave your pubes. You don't have any body hair anyway anywhere else, and it would make your little privates more obvious. Haven't you been told this before? Do doctors laugh when they see your junk?" He laughed. And typed, typed, and typed.

I was rapidly becoming VERY humiliated by this, to my core. He was INSULTING me, this deceptive young guy, and he was showing no remorse or shame in doing it. Quite the opposite. He was ENJOYING himself. I cursed myself for pursuing this “scene.” It was destroying my ego, bit by bit. He had to know this, and he did not seem to care one iota. And I did not like the incessant typing or chuckling, and the fact that his "friends" would be hearing about all of this. I realized this was a CMNM humiliation scene, and that I'd agreed to it full stop, and I also realized I'd never put myself through this again unless I was the "CM."

Mike then told me, “Do you know you are blushing from your big nipples all the way up to your forehead. I’d say fire engine red. It’s hilarious.”  Type, type, type, chuckle, chuckle, chuckle. “Oh my. You’re so so naked. You’re the most naked man probably on this block. Certainly the one with the smallest cock. I didn't realize you'd have such a small member, but it makes this funnier. I also did not anticipate those enormous breasts. Woo hoo, I know someone who's gonna cream over those!”

Mike stopped typing and walked over to me. He made a big show of walking around me and looking me up and down. "That ass is really something when it's closed, too. Does it jiggle? Let me see." He fondled and slapped my buttocks. "Yep. It sure does. I knew it. At least sometthing on your naked body moves."

A phone rang. Mike produced a cell phone and answered it.. “Yes he’s here. Boy, is he here. All of him is here. He is naked. He's a NATURAL blonde, believe me. The pubes are definitely blonde. Otherwise he is fucking hairless. He doesn't even have UNDERARM hair....no I'm not kidding. Of course, he's embarrassed, who wouldn't be....I have never seen such an old guy blush like this, it is like he's never been naked before...I know, right. And he’s totally naked as a jaybird. He's buff. His tits are really enormous especiallly the nipples, they are huge... I can't wait to tell Greg, yeah, I know.....He is built, but he has  a bit of tiny belly and he hates me for saying that...he is giving me eye darts....You have to see his hole, it is pretty sexy and deep and you'll be getting pics. He has a big round butt and a big deep hole. It is really big and I don't think he likes me saying that but he smells good. And you really have to see his dick. What there is of it....Yep, big tits, small cock.....Sure, of course he can hear me, I told you eye darts, he does not like this phone call, I don't care,  he's naked, I'm not, that was the arrangement,he's mad at me.......why should I let up? Fuck that. I have a naked businessman in my living room but he does not look like a businessman right now. He is completely naked and he is completely embarrassed.....Ease up? I don't think so. Shut up, Bob. I can tell this is turning you on....yeah, yeah....DAVID's completely red. He’s standing a foot away. He is pale except for the blushing. He actually tried to cover himself like a litttle boy. It was funny, yeah. All it would take to cover it would be a kleenex.....I’m typing the notes. I don't think he likes me doing the notes, but you’ll love them. I'll take pictures too, so you can see his little dick. It's the smallest I've ever seen...no really....it is SMALL...I told him on the phone I was gonna be relentless and after getting him naked you can be sure I'm gonna do just that. He is naked, Bob....His dick is almost invisible but his tits are just incredible and they look to be pulsating.They're quivering and all he's doing is standing NAKED in my living room....testicles are disproportionate....his jelly belly is quivering too....he is absolutely embarrassed and he frankly should be.....it's really kind of shockingly small considering his frame....almost 6 feet...I know, I'm surprised too, but you never know....you gotta see these titties, they are outrageous and it's clear they are a sensitive subject for him, which is hilarious, they jiggle so easily I can see why he is sensitive about them...well he says he used to be fat.....yeah, I turned up the lights like you suggested of course.....if I hadn't, I'd never been able to see his cock, be serious.....why wouldn't I put lights on?” I just stood there in utter mortification. Naked. This commentary was bad for me. WHO WAS BOB? Why on earth did I agree to this?

I heard laughter on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, yeah I'll get a shot of his scrotum  I know you like that, Bob. Let me get back to him. I’ll tell you EVERYTHING later…oh, yez, he’s embarrassed as hell. He’s blushing like Christmas tree crazy and his penis is an acorn amd frankly I am being generous.” Mike laughed and I heard the other person on the phone—a man—explode with laughter and repeat the word “acorn!”. Loudly AND derisively. "Acorn! Scrotum!" the person repeated and laughed again.

"Yeah, acorn. I told him my little brother's dick was bigger. Let me get back to tormenting him, Bob." I heard Bob laugh and scream "acorn, scrotum" again and then Mike hung up the phone and suddenly observe, switching gears,  “Hey do you know that your big lady nipples are hard, David. I think certain verbiage kind of gets to you. Your boyfriends must have sucked on those to make them so....prominent.” Mike leered at me.

I blanched. Mike went on, “Yeah, they were rather womanly to begin with. Now they’re all pointy. Part of you is enjoying this, I think. You must like being teased, so I'll keep doing it. I aim to please.” More typing. “I've never seen a man's nipples vibrate. Let’s see, there’s two p’s in nipples, I believe, and then w-o-m-a-n-l-y.” He laughed. “How do you spell 'lactate."? Fuck it, I'll just wing it. I'll just type 'mammaries' and come back to it later. Did your boyfriends enjoy playing with those big ole knockers? You don't have to answer. Ha. If you can get them erect simply by takiing your shirt off it must have driven you wild to them sucked on. I'll be finding out for sure. This is hysterical. I can't believe you're letting me do this. But it's too late to back out. You have no clothes on. You are nude as hell. But David my friend, you have nice big titties and a very small penis and a very enticing hole. Very enticing hole indeed. Your hole is wonderfully masculine. even though I think you have been fisted.  I'm glad you're here. I am enjoying myself tremendously. I'm OK with your penis. Your ample manboobs and your big deep hole make up for the lack of penis.” He laughed again, shrilly. I was begninning to actively dislike Mike and his big rude mouth with his toothpaste teeth.

I glanced down at my chest. To my alarm my nipples were jutting straight out, unmistakably hard and aroused. This was not an unusual sight to me, but it had never been mocked before. I was devastated that Mike noticed this from where he was sitting and typing. It meant it was very obvious and indeed that part of me was getting turned on by this embarrassing situation, though mentally I knew I was really not getting into it at all. The damn lighting would not spare me and I suddenly realized young MIke would probably regale his pals about me for a long time to come and that we were not even halfway done.

"Please refrain from referring to my pecs as titties!" I shouted. "Show some respect."

Miike laughed. "No I will not. This is my apartment, you're the naked one, and you brought over those titties on your own. I'll call them whatever I like. Besides, titties in your case is far more appropriate than pecs. Pecs are usually firm."

Ouch. So I tried a different approach. "Can you at least lower the lights, Mike?" I asked as forcefully as I could. Although I had agreed to be humiliated, I found this to be a bit much. I had not anticipated notes or phone calls or criticism of this nature so obusively and so quickly. It was frankly rather unpleasant. I regretted stripping. I was being totally mocked. I am a dignified man by nature. I manage ten employees.

“Of course not will I lower the lights, are you an idiot, this is a humiliation scene, naked David,” Mike scolded and giggled. "If I lower the lights how am I gonna see your little acorn?" He got up and approached me. I took a step back. He reached for my chest and pulled on both of my nipples, giggling. “These boobs need a sports bra.”

“Cut it out,” I croaked, shuddering. “This is too much. Have some respect. You are just being mean.” I hated the way that came out because it only seemed to make him more confident, which was not in my favor under these circumstances.

“Respect, please. You are naked. Better get used to it, David. Respect for you is out the window. You showed up here, you have stripped naked, willingly. You knew what you were getting into, you and you tiny cock. You didn't even tell me that your equipment was so inadequate. Your discomfort is part of the scene, buddy. We discussed that aspect. At least parts,of you are hard and giving me something to look at. I can't see your dick because your bush covers it, so don't complain to me about anything I try to observe. I'm trying to be cool. Another reason the lights stay up. I do want to look at you. All over. Nude.”

He adjusted his jacket and tie as if to rub in the fact that that he was fully clothed, then he pulled on my nipples, hard, and then he vigorously kneaded my pecs, giggling. "Yep. A sports bra is what's needed. These are quite the handfuls. You should work on them more." My dick felt smaller and my pubic bush felt suddenly overwhelming. I wished I had manscaped more to make my genitals more impressive. I would never put myself in this position again. I begin to wonder if I would ever recover from Mike's overtly aggressive approach to this humiliation. He knew exactly what he was doing and I was suffering as a result. I had never felt so naked or embarrassed. Or deliberately demeaned.

Mike'a tone was openly mocking and he didn’t care. In fact, he seemed to revel in teasing me this way. I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face, but I was in no position to do that. Quite the opposite. I was nude, he was still in a suit and tie and he showed no inclination whatsoever to take that off.

He pulled on my nipples and kneaded my tits. He pushed the tits together with glee. “Look at these titties. They can create CLEAVAGE. Not exactly manly.” He laughed, heartily, pulling on the nipples again—both of them, and not gently. I winced. I have extremely sensitive nipples. I tried to pulll away from him a bit, to no avail. "They're like control knobs," he blurted. "I am gonna suck these off your big blonde ass Norweigan body." (I am not Norwegian, so this kind of amused me.) Mike used my non-Norwegian nipples to pull me back to him and he pulled me back closer than before. He was obsessed with my pecs and my niipples and I knew it and he did not care. I was brushing against his suit jacket, his shirt, his tie. and his pants. Mike had an erection..

“Yeah, you got some serious man cleavage. You have no chest hair at all. How humiliating. Oh look,” Mike exclaimed, glancing down at my crotch. “You’re getting a little stiffy. It's a miracle.”

I was trying to get into this scene, but every time he'd praise my chest  or my ass, he'd bellittle my privates. So my body and my mind were at loggerheads, especially since I was buck-ass naked and he was fully clothed in a suit.

Mike was clearly into me. I knew this. But his weird comments threw me off. This was his intention. Humiliate the old naked blonde guy, have a few laughs. WTF.

I looked down again and saw my cock was moving around a bit, emerging from my blonde, trimmed pubic hair. I was kind of relieved and quite humiliated at the same time. My hands were still behind my head, exposing my basically bare armpits. I could smell the soap I’d used that morning. The fact that he had an erection himself (a considerable one, from what I could tell) somehow encouraged me to let this proceed. At least I was turning him on, in some way.

“Let me record this latest development,” Mike said, returning to his laptop and typing, chuckling all the way. I think he was aware I had noticed his hard-on through his pants, because on the way back to the laptop, he buttoned his coat to conceal it. Once he sat back down, he unbuttoned the jacket again. He seemed to be also lightly perspiring even though the apartment was at a perfect room temperature for the season. “Yes indeed. The guys are gonna love this stuff, Mister Acorn Dick. One of them is gonna swoon over your big boobies.”

I sighed and realized I’d have to keep an eye on Mike’s cell phone. He had already mentioned “pictures”. He would not be getting one of my face, that’s for sure. I’d try to talk him out of anything else as well, although in one of our last emails, he had mentioned “harmless closeups of certain areas” and I had stupidly agreed that this would be "harmless, I guess." I knew it was inevitable that he would request a closeup of my hole and my penis. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, since I knew he would be distributing them at least to "Bob" who knew now that I had a small penis, a round butt, etc., etc. But there would be NO face pics of any kind.

I stood there under the unrelenting lights, completely naked and exposed as Mike recorded my humiliation with exuberance. He glanced at me repeatedly, and suddenly announced, “You’re hard, I think. With you, that's probably a hard-on. It's definitely more than two and a half inches now. Let me measure it again.” I did not mention Mike's erection. Although I wanted to see it, I knew he would either pull it out and taunt me with its superior size, or refuse altogether and make me feel worse for mentioning it.

And so he did "measure it again," fondling me with the tape measure and laughing. "It's five. Good job, I guess. Let me see if I can get the girth now. I couldn't before because it' was too tiny." He measured me again, fondling me at the same time, pulling on my pubes  and really fondling my balls for the first time for good measure. "Girth is only a little more than two," he announced, giggling. "Not too impressive, David. Sorry, man. I'll let Bob and everybody else know."

I looked down again. I thought my penis was now a respectable length and it was sticking straight out. It had never gotten exactly enormous in my life, I was resigned to that, and I'd never gotten any real complaints or outlandishly rude remarks (until now). Mike touched my penis and balls and pubic hair and rubbed his finger over the piss slit of my penis and observed that it was “gaping”. “I want to take a pic of this before it goes back to tiny,” he giggled.

“Wait a minute,” I blurted. “I don’t think…”

Mike scoffed. “Don’t you want a record of it this way?” He sounded annoyed. “I would think you’d be begging for me to take a picture of it now. This is much better than when you first stripped.” He retrieved his phone and crouched down. I lowered my hands to cover my penis but he was too fast. Click, and the picture was taken. Mike was on a roll. He told me to turn around and “open” my cheeks. “Let’s get your asshole on here too,” he reasoned. He produced a small penlight.

A penlight. Very weird. WHAT was that for?

Sighing, but wanting to do anything that would curtail his mocking insults, and since I had been told he "approved" of my anus, I willingly turned around and pulled my buttocks open again. I was hungry for any appreciation at this point.

"Wider, David. As wide as you can. I want this to be one for the books. I told you I liked your big hole. EVERYONE is gonna want a look at your big hole, you know. Gay men like big clean holes."

I pulled my buttocks open as wide as I'd ever, my ego demolished. Mike chuckled, and I glanced over my shoulder. He was crouching, grinning like a fiend, using the penlight to look inside my anus! Inside it. I was shocked at this complete invasion of my privacy. But after spotting the penlight I was not completely surprised he was using it this way (although I wish I had been and had said something to stop him for this outrageous infiltration of my rectum). I was embarrassed. And definitely, humiliated and frankly violated.

"Keep those cheeks spread!" Mike barked, sensing my apprehension about the penlight. "Pretty nice. Is this called an anus or is this called a rectum? I dunno. I've never seen one this close. Did you give yourself an enema?" He giggled. Actually I HAD given myself an enema and at the time I was glad I did. But I remember thinking to myself, there are three assholes in this room. His lack of respect for the dignity of my anus was crazy, even though I knew it was turning him on.

I thought about protesting about the penlight, but was too late. I was insanely showing off to Mike's delight since he was obviously thrilled that I'd do that. Crouching and shooting below me, Mike had already taken a close-up picture of my bare, spread asshole while shining the light inside it. The penlight was so close it was almost inserted. It was cold and metal and I felt it. I squirmed at the sight Mike was receiving in his eagerness to humiliate me to the maximum.

I knew he'd gotten the pic because he chortled and commented smugly, "There. Got it. Spectacular." He was turning out to be quite the dexterous, weird, lying 22 year old, quite the opposite of your average fan of "Back to the Future." I would regret all this, dearly, later.

“Very nice. This will be somebody’s screen saver, I guarantee it,” he said, "just not in any office, but I know at least five guys who would rub themselves raw to that," and he laughed deviously.  “Your hole is the star of the day, David. It’s so brown on the rims and it’s really really pink inside, you know, but a few segments are purplish,” Mike purred. I felt a finger go inside my anus. “No hair. Warm too.” He giggled and wriggled his finger until he located my prostate gland, which made me a bit harder. Now my penis was sticking more or less straight up even though these graphic appraisals of my insides were making me queasy. Mike guessed this would happen and before I could protest he came around and took another photo, this time pointing the phone straight down my naked body towards my cockhead and my piss slit. The penlight, I noticed, was now on the floor, for which I was grateful. “Hot stuff. Your slit is actually opening. David, you have an erection!”

He went back to his desk and resumed his “notes.” He typed insanely fast. “You can put your arms down now, David. It’s getting time for the exercise session.”

Oh, no. I wish I had not agreed to the exercise session. The NUDE exercise session.

My penis remained erect. I guess I was finally loosening up despite the torment of being humiliated by this younger man. Mike got up and disappeared into the back of the apartment.

He returned smugly carrying a full length mirror, the kind you see in drug stores or thrift shops. He propped the mirror in front of me and for the first time I was able to see just how exposed I’d been and still was. It was very embarrassing to realize that Mike had been able to look at me this way for so long. He was after all still fully clothed. Although my erection was embarrassing, at the same time I was kind of grateful for it, because in its flaccid state, the "tiny acorn" commentary was demoralizing. Plus, I knew Mike was erect under his designer pants. I wondered if he was wearing underwear. I had felt his erection easily when he pulled my naked body to him by my nipples.

“OK, the first exercise will be situps, David,” Mike instructed. “Down on the floor on your back and put your legs in the air and cross your feet. Most guys do situps this way, so I want no complaints from you.  I want to play with your perineum while you do twenty situps. And even though you are not in perfectly pristine shape,” he teased, "you WILL do twenty situps." I loathed his continuing reminders of my former weight and wished he would just stop with this line of commentary.

I knew this would be a lewd position for him to see and for me to experience, but he had already seen me quite exposed and I was beginning to want this all to end so I could go out and get drunk, so I did as he asked to accelerate the "scene." He gave me a wolf whistle. As I moved, my erection bobbed around.  “That….is really really naked.” He giggled. “I like your little hard-on. Start the situps.”

I did, with effort. I’m not really adept at this type of exercise and this was sadly readily apparent to both of us. Mike took off his suit jacket, claiming the apartment was getting “warm.” His pants tented. He made no effort to prove otherwise. He in fact grinned and said, "Yeah. I'm hard. But you're not gonna see it. It would only devastate someone like you. I'll just let you fantasize about it while you do your naked exercises."

He crouched beside me, smiling, and began to stroke my perineum, going back and forth from my scrotum to my apparently very exposed asshole, teasing the asshole maddeningly before occasionally fingering it. He made no comment about MY modest erection but he did gaze at it, smiling. I inadvertently grunted by situp #10 and began to struggle doing the rest. Mike teased my body further by kneading my waist and my tits. “I love these big ole titties,” he exclaimed. “I really really do. Too bad about the acorn though but at least now you have girth.”

I didn’t like the demeaning acorn references at all, as I had never heard them before from anyone, and neither did my penis find much to like in this utterly raunchy terminology. So my erection disappeared despite Mike's suggestion to "fantasize" about his. This was to my deep chagrin, since I realized this would only welcome more of MIke's disdainful mockery. I also didn’t like Mike playing with my pert belly and navel at all, and gave him a dirty look every time he went there, which seemed to only make him do it more vigorously and smile more, showing those pearly whites, and thrusting his pelvis in my direction to show his hard-on was responding to my humiliation as much as anything else.

He fingered my navel, giggling at my startled reaction, because my navel is deep. I managed to finish the situps, out of breath.

He then had me do pushups—but I only managed fifteen of them because I could not get to twenty due to his comments and intrusive fondling as I did them. He commented that he “enjoyed” watching my “titties” jiggle and “hang down with the nipple points in profile.” He took a picture of that before I could stop him. “Greg will love that one,” he informed me with relish. “He loves old guys with wobbly titties, for some reason.” I grimaced. “He tells me he masturbates to that, and that photos of it are hard to find. Until now!” This was no consolation at all to me, just further debasement.

As I struggled with the pushups, he decided to complicate matters by playing with my body with his hands, alathough he did compliment me initially by saying that the exercise was "really showing off your back muscles." With one hand, though, he held aloft a middle finger to greet my asshole as I went upwards. With the other, he strayed up and down my frame underneath, tugging on my nipples as I went upwards and then travelling down to do the same with my penis. He did this back and forth and this type of teasing was maddening. "Wow," he taunted. "Your nipples are bigger than your cock. Wow. I've never been able to say THAT line before." That was painful to hear. I knew my errection had disappeared. And of course Mike laughed when he made that distasteful and demeaning remark. He also found time to tickle both of my underarms, which made me shiver and struggle harder to to the exercise. I told him to stop doing that. Of course he laughed at me and called me "weak, ticklish and naked."

I stopped at pushup 15 and collapsed. "That's it. I can do no more pushups." Mike tut-tutted and patted me  on the ass. "That's OK, old man," he sneered. "Save your energy."

He allowed me a few minutes to recover, so I simply laid on his floor, naked, catching my breath, while Mike, of course, typed.

After that he insisted on 100 nude jumping jacks—in front of the full-length mirror. Mike stood to the side of me, watching me watch myself in the mirror. His hard-on was plaingly visible in his pants. I hated the mirror with a passion, because it made it possible for me (and Mike) to watch my pecs jiggle up and down (and of course he had to point this out). My erection was ancient history by now, after the latest “acorn” reference, so my penis didn’t move much at all, although my balls did. “Gee, your penis just kind of bobbles. We should have done this when you were hard,” Mike observed. He rubbed his own erection through his pants, giggling. "Your erecticle dysfunction is probably due to your age."

Mike took two quick pics of my flaccid penis and laughed at my horrified reaction. “It’s the acorn again!” he taunted. "I'll blow those up so it looks bigger. I'll put them in my bathroom so visitors can look at them and laugh." It was back to the mockery. I saw myself beet red in the mirror, and looked away. I was as embarrassed as I’d ever been in my life.

The humiliation was terrible, made slightly worse because I was realizing Mike was responding to it in an erotic way. Near the end of the jumping jacks, Mike demanded I give him a "big finish" and do "star jumps" to show off my "naked armpits." He laughed hard at this ridiculous display and the sight in the mirror was excruciating because I saw utter anguish in my reddened face. Mike went back to type after I finished the awful jumping jacks and I sat down on the couch to bend over, calm down and cover up a bit. I was getting tired of being exposed and ridiculed by this younger man, even though I was a bit pleased he was hard. It was a real rollercoaster of emotions.

“What are you doing?” Mike asked. “You can't cover yourself until I say so. Stretch out on the couch. Put one foot on the floor and the other one over the back of the couch. I want you spread open. It’s buttplug time.” Mike stopped typing and produced a clear plastic bag with a blue buttplug inside. At least the buttplug was not large, but my eyes widened when I saw it, which Mike noted. “Don’t be afraid of it. It’s brand new and clean.” Great. He removed the object from the bag and walked over to me, naked on the couch, my poor overexposed anus once again making an appearance along with my ridiculed penis and “veiny” balls. Mike tossed the buttplug on my chest. “First, use it on those silver dollar nipples. I want them as hard as possible for pictures.”

This was one of the most degrading, awkward things ever. I didn’t really know how to do it, so Mike gave me “instructions.” “Just tease the womanly nipples with the tip of the plug, David.” I felt my face redden further. "Ha, ha,you're glowing," Mike teased. But I thought he looked annoyed that I didn’t immediately embrace this new embarrassment. I played with myself in this way for what seemed like an eternity while Mike typed and looked at me. He came over and fingered me again. This time he inserted two fingers, saying “I knew there was room for one more,” and chuckled.

Mike adjusted his pants a bit. "Man, I'm hard," he announced, sighing as if this was my fault. He seemed to be complaining. I had to smile despite myself. This made me forgive his deceit (a bit).

My nipples became as turgid as they’d ever been, shockingly so, and I was mortified when Mike began to take not one, but a SERIES of pics of both of my pecs, laughing throughout. He seemed particularly interested in getting pics with both the buttplug and the nipple in the frame.“Yeah,  you need a sports bra for sure. The guys will pitch in and get you one when they see these,” Mike explained, chuckling. "I wonder where I should put these in the apartment. I guess I will have to ask all my friends. Maybe the kitchen?"

I was so utterly humiliated at all this I just had to stop. Mike sighed, disappointed. “OK, I guess you’re ready to fuck yourself. But before you use the plug I want to watch you finger yourself like I’ve been doing. And use two fingers. There's certainly enough room in that plump, succulent ass of yours.” I glared at him. My ass is not "plump," goddammit.

This was very awkward and I loathed doing it. I had to reach underneath my ass to do it and once I was inside myself, Mike took another closeup. My degradation was immense, realizing this pic and all the others would be passed around and mocked (and distributed around Mike's apartment). He made me do this for a good ten minutes, which was at least eight minutes too long. He wanted to see me do it in an “alternate” way, by moving my hand over my groin instead of under my ass “so your forearm is touching your balls and squooshing them.” He took more closeups. Whatever. I finally just stopped because his gaze at this was unsettling. He was actually licking his lips. “I liked that, but I think I’ll like the buttplug more. Use it and use it with vigor.”

I complied, hating every second of my exposure this way. Of course he took more closeups, chuckling throughout. “You don’t like this at all, do you,” he teased. “You should see the look on your face.”

“Don’t even THINK of taking a photo of my face or I will get up and end this right now,” I warned. "I don't give a fuck how aroused you are, you little bitch."

“Ooh, big tittied acorn dick old tough blonde alpha male naked guy,” Mike mocked. “Keep fucking yourself, David.” He was not giving up control, I could see that, and to make it worse, he gathered up all my clothes (including the shoes and the jockstrap) and disappeared down the hallway.

He was walking away with my clothes. I literally had zero leverage and was at his mercy more than ever. I told myself to be calm. I didn't think he was angry, but I decided not to cross him. I was bigger and I knew I could take him. But I was also naked, and I did not know the layout of this apartment, or where he had taken my clothes.

When he returned, he  was in full merciless mode and he began to loosen his tie, leering at me with bulging eyes. He was still tenting under his pants and it looked big. “Keep your legs spread wide and keep fucking yourself,” he barked as I began to close them at one point out of embarrassment. I knew I was delivering the goods for him, but this exposure was simply too much, and the plug was beginning to make actual squeaky sounds as it went in and out, in and out, which was really embarrassing. I wanted to shut my eyes but didn’t dare, as his phone was very nearby and I was afraid he’d sneak in a pic of my face.

“I’m getting tired,” I told him.

“OK, old man. You can stop fucking yourself. What a slut, though. That was really lewd stuff,” he laughed. "I've never seen an old dude do that. It was hilarioius. But I want one really good pic of you and the plug. Stick it back in. Wait. First, let me take a few of your hole just spread open. You may be interestted to know that your hole is bigger than ever, David."

I said nothing and allowed him to take closeups of my spread anus, me naked on his couch. Him, clothed (but clearly hard) bending down and taking his pics, chuckling.

"OK, you can stick it back in," he allowed, as if this were a gift. I complied and stuck the thing back in my poor overexposed asshole, and left it in. He took a couple of pics. When the  buttplug slowly worked its way out of me, I grabbed it and threw it across the room. It bounced and wound up under the legs of a chair..

"Ooh, you don't like your little friend anymore?" he teased. He then retrieved the plug and sucked on it. 

Wow, I thought. This youngster is a pervert.

He went back to typing his notes and I closed my legs but no dice. “Keep your legs where they were,” he implored. “The next part of your humiliation is oral.” I spread myself open for him again and he nodded in affirmation. Hadn't he seen enough? Appaarently not.

I had no idea what he meant by "oral" until he came over and began to slurp on my pecs, or rather “titties.” As he slobbered over my pecs and gently bit my nipples with abandon, he used that word repeatedly in a muffled fashion, making me cringe every time. He's drool over one pec and fondler the other with his hand. He was really going at it, and it didn't feel half bad, but it was still humiliating. His tie tickled my naked stomach and was another reminder that I was nude and he had on dress clothes.

Eventually he moved his mouth down to my penis and balls, announcing that “I can get your entire package in my mouth. How embarrassing for you.” He slurped with equal fervor down there, even pulling on my pubes with his teeth, and I did not enjoy it primarily because of his mockery and particuraly when he said "I can't even call this equipment, it's more like a tinker toy." Mike's lips proved adept at locating both my glans and my slit. When he tired of sucking my genitals, he focused his tongue and lips on my exposed asshole, sternly pushing my legs up, which made my body stiffen in surprise. Again, Mike's lips knew where to go, and he tickled the rim of my anus before actually managing to get some of his tongue inside me. This was rather too intimate for me, to be frank. My cock shrank even further due to my actute embarrassment despite my very real awareness my host was totally getting into the "scene". Mike's body was exuding heat, though, and this image has stayed with me.

Mike laughed a muffled laugh as he tongued my anus, proclaiming it “nice, hot and clean just like the photo and it tastes just like the plug only more fleshy.” I was glancing down at my body. His saliva seemed to be everywhere on my nakedness. He had really big time slurped all over me. I was not really not enjoying any of this, knowing what he had seen and documented.

The penlight anus photo began to disturb me but I put it out of my mind. I knew he would refuse to get rid of it if I asked; he was not even bothering to hide his arrogance at this point. At least, I thought, that photo would be anonymous.

I was beginning to be humiliated beyond measure; this was going on too long and I wanted to get drunk--after all it WAS a Saturday. I blanched especially when he informed me he would be sharing this with his friends about how an old man “tasted.” I just shook my head and waited for his unabashed slobbering to end. I didn’t like it at all, because he was doing that infernal chuckling throughout and I was beginning really to resent this "old man" stuff. The old man sure seemed to be turning this brat on. Mike remained tented and did not seem to care one way or the other any more. In fact, he seemed to be taunting me with his obvious arousal.

As he sucked on me he would used his hands to touch me all over, again returning to knead my waist and stomach because he knew I detested that. I actually used my hands to move his hands away, only to have him tell me to put them back behind my head or that he would “definitely” take a picture of my face “so fast your head will spin and whether you like it or not.”

So I complied. This was approaching the end, anyway, I hoped. Surely he would tire soon and go off and jerk off. His tenting was frankly beginning to look painful, although I didn't exactly have any sympathy for that.

He eventually stopped licking on me and stood up, removing his tie and unfastening his shirt collar, exposing his strong neck, which I admit was a turn-on, especially when seen with his obvious but concealed erection.

He went and typed some more as I watched his spit dry on my forlorn nakedness. I propped up naked on  his couch on my elbows, a pose he clearly had interest in.

"Oh, I almost forgot, don't move," he instructed me. He went into his kitchan and opened his refrigerator, putttering around and humming then returning with a can of strawberry whipped cream, a bowl of strawberry ice creeam with three full strawberries on top, and a bowl of ice cubes. He sat all this down on the nearby table and after stopping just to stare at me naked propped up on my elbows (he really clearly liked this, I guess it showed me in a way that pushed a button), he told me to lie back down flat and keep my legs spread. Warily, I did as he asked. Mike said he'd be right back and sauntered down his hallway, returning with three or four fluffy towels. What was he going to do now?

To my surprise and delight he began to unbotton his shirt. "Don't get too excited, I'm not gonna get naked for you," he taunted. "YOU'RE the naked guy today." He removed the shirt entirely. He wore a white T-shirt that clung and it more than showed him off. This exposure also confirmed he had lightly perspired; he had an extremely appealing muskiness to him. His suit obviously was tailored. Mike was indeed, to no surprise from me, lean, wiry, an obvious swimmer with a clear six-pack, and his small but dark nipples were visibly stimulated underneath the T-shirt. It appeared that he had a smooth chest. I longed badly to see what was underneath that shirt. It wasn't fair. He grinned at my obvious anticipation. "Are you undressing me with your eyes, David?" He teased.

Mike adjusted the towels underneath me, particularly underneath my spread ass, humming of all things "Sexy motherfucker" by Prince. As he did this, he deliberately brushed his hands all over me. My flaccid penis stirred.

Then, he went over and retrieved the strawberry whipped cream, telling me to put my hands behind my head again. Instantly I knew what his plans were. Smiling, he quite deftly squirted cold whipped cream on both exposed armpits, then applied a generous amount to my nipples and pecs.

He put the cream down on the floor, climbed on top of me, and began to devour the whipped cream off my body, hungrily. The sensation was considerable, abetted by the fact he was so close to me now and I could feel him and smell his body. I writhed and giggled. The cream had been refrigerated, so it was cold. MIke's tongue was hot, though. He was going to town, pushing my elbows back on the arm of the couch and lapping up the dessert topping like a puppy. He spent just as much time on my armpits as he eventually did on my nipples (and he took his time there). I admit I found this very erotic and I got hard.

When he waa finished eating my chest for the second time, he retrieved the ice cream, which had a spoon in the bowl. Avoiding the full strawberries, he spooned the somewhat melted ice cream on top of my penis, balls, and pubic bush. I shuddered as this was ice cold. It was ice crem!

He then "ate" the ice cream right off my genitals with just as much energy as he'd done the initial chowing down before "dessert time" and then the whipped cream experiment. It tickled more than anything, and the cold ice cream didn't do much for keepinf me very hard, but I was definnitely staying fuller than when I had first stripped. The slurping sounds were done with no discretion and he said "yum" over and over, which amused me. I had to give it to this kid, he had some wild-ass ideas. He slurped up all the icr cream and smacked his lips, smiling. Then he went for the strawberries. The first two he one by one inserted into my asshole. They were rather cold as well. I was astounded that someone would come up with an idea like this.

"You've GOT to be kidding," I actually had to laugh at this. Mike was adamant. "Nope, I'm not kidding, David. Please open your legs more. Why do I have to keep telling you that? Although your hole is a big one, I need as much space as I can get right now. These strawberries are fresh and they are not small. And I am not letting a well-built blonde tomato with a Wall Street haircut out of my sight, fucker."

I assumed that I'd received a kind of compliment from Mike. I silently appreciated the "well-built" throwaway since thank you I AM well-built. I realized that for Mike, this was the height of generosity. But then I felt a fucking STRAWBERRY go into my anus (it was either a strawberry, or an unwrapped candy bar--I could not honestly tell the difference, I only realized it was some type of food product and that it was cold).

That was a first. The object, whatever it was,felt surprisingly firm for a piece of fruit but then I realized again that it had been refrigerated. (This was not difficult to discern.) Mike then ate out the strawberry with vigor, spreading my legs open as he did so. Making sure I saw him swallow the piece of fruit, he did the same action with the second strawberry, eating it out of my asshole with lust and then chewing it and swallowing it. As he ate me out, he developed a sudden interest in my upturned feet and toes, which convulsed me with laughter. I began to be humiliated by this a great deal, because I felt I should be protesting it more forcefully and I could not manage the words to do so. Mike then located his cameraphone and placed it between my open legs on the towel. He then inserted the last cold strawberry inside my anus. He then had the audacity to take a closeup picture of that. :"Oh my God, MIke, that is too much," I complained, finally finding my fucking voice. He giggled, removed the strawberry and told me to open my mouth because I was going to "have a snack."

I protested. "That's gross, no way," I refused until he grabbed my balls and growled, "open your fucking mouth, David. You're going to have a snack. These strawberries ain't cheap."

This tough guy movement started me and he was grabbing me hard. I thought it best to comply, so I opened my mouth and MIke dropped in the vile strawberry into my mouth. He had thankfully trimmed the leaves.  "Eat it," he commanded, laughing. So I did. It didn't taste unusual, which relieved me, I guess. When I was done with the snack I asked, mockingly, "Are we done with dessert?"

"Not quite," Mike informed me as I watched his T-shirt clad chest drive me crazy. "I have to cleen you up a bit." He took the ice cubes--large ones, by the way, and began to rub them over my exposed skin, beginning with my armpits, then torturing my nipples. "Female strippers do this, you know," mused Mike. "I don't know about male stripppers, but FEMALES do this before a show. Not that you need to." He chuckled. He moved an ice cube around my nipples and underneath my pecs, then would trail it down my chest over my navel, to my pubes, cock and balls, administer it there, and for his finale he would rub it down my perineum and insert the now thankfully shrunk ice cube into my anus. With these ice cubes, he was leaving not one inch of me unexplored with the exception of my hands, forearms, face, legs and feet.

"I can't believe you are doing this to me," I complained. "Do you know how that feels? It's torturrous." I was writhing and breathing hard because I wasn't kidding. Try it some time, you'll see what I mean. I  also admit writhing and breathing hard because of MIke's body and it was obvious he wickedly knew it. His own pecs were developed from swimming obviously, and his nipples were small and dark and they were pushing the fabric of his tight T-shirt hard. His lean frame was tight and it looked very smooth. His biceps were lickable limbs. He had a light tan. Mike was very sexy, but I had to protest once more about the damn ice cubes. I didn't like them at all.

Mike just laughed, "I'm just making you less sticky," and finished off ALL five cubes in this humiliating way. This was his version of an enema, I guess. Uh, oh, I worried. Can I hold this in? That had to be the equivalent of a small cup of water. They're melting inside me and I could feel it. I would be obliterated if I expelled water out of my ass on Mike's couch, even though he had prepared for that with the towels, the little rascal.

Mike got off the couch and put his shirt back on, which disappointed me of course. At least he didn't button it all the way up. He told me to hold on, and went over to his jacket, draped on a chair. When he returned, he was carrying what looked like a brand new toothbruth. What the hell is this, I thought.

This was getting very odd. “Let’s wrap this up, Mike,” I said, even though I knew what was next: the grand finale, me masturbating in the nude while he watched me fully clothed,, grinning and enjoying himself, rubbing in the humiliation, embarrassing me for my nakedness and for my losing this godforsaken wager. I dreaded it, but we had discussed it at length and agreed that the loser doing the most intimate erotic act possible was the obvious way to finish the scene. And I knew he was aroused.

Oddly, this eventually turned out to be the easiest thing for me to do probably because it was an act I with which I had some familiarity (but not of course under these circumstances), although, as he had previously warned,  he wouldn’t give me lube at first because, he said, he wanted me to use my “natural juices.” The worst part of it was the beginning, because I had trouble getting hard without the lube and I was not producing much precum, or I'm sorry, natural juics,  due to my humiliation, and the fact that I indeed had to start using only two fingers (as he had so snarkily predicted and wasted no time pointing out when it became reality, bellowing "there's that darn girth problem again"). Finally, in total embarrassment but relief that things were winding down, I threw dignity out the window and begged him for some lube. "Mike, I cannot do this without lube," I spat. "I just can't."

"OK Dave. I am enjoying your dilemma, but I really do want to see you cum, so....."

He gave me his trademark smirk and produced a bottle of rather expensive lube, and went back to his laptop. He did not type at first, he just watched me pour lube on my cock and balls. When I began to stroke again, this time with success, he began to type, but he continually glanced at what I was doing, flashing that damn trademark leer of his, studying my nude humiliation..

"Will it help if I remove my shirt again, Dave?" Mike sweetly inquired. "Yes," I rasped. It sure wouldn't hurt. Mike unbuttoned and removed the dress shirt. I got MUCH harder.

I did not like the sounds this masturbation was making but I accelerated my process abtwat and soon I was rock hard (and embarrassingly, moaning a bit, which he told me to do more of because, he said, it was "beyond erotic" and "exciting" and he wanted me to do it "as loud as you can"). I threw in some writhing around just to give him even more of a show as I glanced at his body over at the desk. I saw a bit of his underarm hair. It looked like he trimmed. He loved me writhing because his mouth kept forming an "O" and he also loved me staring at his chest ("I know you're doing it and I love it. But this is CMNM and you are the nekkid one"). There was intermittent typing, but at this point Mike was documenting matters with his eyes. The eyegrlasses were continually propped up and he wasn't glancing, he was staring.

Then he threw in a real wrench. I had a real erection now, all lubed up. Mike unwrapped the toothbrush and told me stop stroking "for a minute." Then he gently grabbed (but it WAS a grab) my erect cock and began to tease it with the hard bristles of the new toothbrush. He began with my shaft which was strange but endurable. (I was absolutely not familiar with this type of stuff.). When he got up to my glans, I began to moan and grab the sides of the couch, which he greeted with squeals of delight. When he began on my sensitive head with the toothbrush, and most particularly my opened piss slit, I almost leapt off the couch and hit the celing.

"Aahhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!" I yelled. Or something, and repeatedly. "Stop it. I can't stand that!!!!" Mike laughed so hard I saw tears in his eyes and I yelled again, as he refused to ease up. And to my astonishment, he was able to get a photo of this! How many hands did he have? My poor piss slit was being tortured. Amazingly, my erection didn't go down (much).

Then one of the most embaarrasing things of the day occurrred. As Mike tormented my poor penis and I squirmed around, my sphincter gave up on me. I felt water trickling and then SHOOTING out of my asshole. "I could kill you, Mike," I growled at him through clenched teeth. And don't you dare think----" Of taking a picutre? He'd done it already, proclaiming. "I got a really good one of the water spraying out, I think. Don't worry. The water is clear and the towel is soaking it up. Wow. I hadn't counted on that. Thanks." I just sighed in frustration until he went back on me with his toothburh and I started screaming again. I got through it be waching his abs contract through his T-shirt, and his perspiration was also a turn-on.

i told him firmly to stop it, and he did, but he told me to turn over on my stomach because I deserved a back rub. This sounded nice, so I did. He got up and came back with baby oil. He sat back down on the couch, spreading my legs again (leg up over the back of the couch, the toes off my other foot touching his floor). Then he told me to rise a bit from the couch so he would "move" my genitals for viewing. He reached underneath and pulled my genitals back towards him. I had a semi-erection and he made a comment along those lines. Then he pushed my buttocks back down and sat just below them, playing with my genitals a bit, fingering my slit, and then rubbing oil on my back and between my shoulders.

He began to give me a massage. He was pretty good at this and I just relaxed because at last, here was something relatively normal. He moved his hands and his body slowly down my legs and eventually he was massaging my butt vigorously, opening and closing it, and leaving it open at times and staring at my hole ("I'm looking at your hole again"). I was amused that he was still so interested in my asshole after all this time.

Then the massage stopped and he squuirted what felt like a substantial amount of oil in my crack and especially directly into my exposed asshole. I thought he was simply going to finger me again. But instead I felt the handle of the dreaded toothbrush being inserted into my asshole. "This will make a fun pic," Mike explained. The toothbrush stopped going in but it felt like a big part of it was in me. There was silence. Mike removed the toothbrush only to re-insert it head first. The bristles were uncomfortable as they entered my hole. "Oh come on, Mike," I complained. "Enough with the toothbrush." He laughed and took another pic.

Mike finally finished up with his dental experiment and decided to spank my ass. He did that for a few minutes and I was fine with it until he began to cross a line and I reminded him we had agreed to "no pain," so he stopped, and took more pics of my "reddened big ass," then getting off me and nonchalantly told me to resume jerking off. He went back to his laptop, chuckling. I saw he was still tenting. I resumed masturbating, telling myself it was way past time to call this a day. I had been naked for close to three hours. It had gotten dark outside. Mike and I were not going to have sex, it was clear. He just wanted to humiliate and embarrassment. It WAS what I'd signed up for, he was in the clear on that. And frankly I knew 100% I wanted to shoot a load.

“You look hot, Dave,” he announced, the first time he’d used that name. “But keep those legs open so I can see it all. Your asshole is opening and closing and your titties are bulging and flexing as you jerk. Your nipples look like a man's completely. They look like they want to jump off your hot chest. I like your little belly and you're not fat at all. I'm sorry I teased you about your penis. Your penis is reaI hard now and I can see the veins it. I can still see the veins in your tight big balls. Everyone is gonna know how hot this was and how gorgeous and handsome you are. I love your pubic hair and I love your haircut and I love your bare armpits and I love your ass. Thank you for doing all this. I'll never ever forget it. Thank you for letting me take the pics. I can see everything and your nakedness is great. I know the ass photos are going to drive guys wild. I love your nakedness right now and I want to see you shoot all over yourself.”

This sudden admiration and this intense recitation, along with the fact I saw that the physically beutiful T-shirt clad Mike was beginning to rub himself through his pants,  was admittedly doing the trick and I got super aroused in front of Mike, writhing, wriggling my toes and moaning unabashedly. The typing completely stopped, so I knew he was truly getting into what I was doing.

I decided to spiice up the proceedings even more. I had been cupping my balls with my left hand and stroking with my right (my usual procedure), but I lazily grazed my left hand up my chest and toyed with my obscenely hard right nipple. I suspected this would drive Mike crazy, and it did. I heard a very guttural "yeahhhhhhhh..........." Pleased, I continued to play with the nipple, even though it kind of embarrassed me to do this. Mike, excited more than ever, got up and retrieved the full-length mirror.

He;leaned the mirror up against the end of the couch, facing me, explaining, "you just have to see  how wantonly sexy this looks, David." Then he sat back down.

Ii looked at myself, naked on his couch, spread open. I saw my eyes widen. I saw that my asshole looked deep and larger that I'd ever seen it, probably due to all the attention it had been receiving all day. I could see well into the crack past the brown rims of my hole, and into the land of pink. I didn't particulaly relish this, but it was far too late to worry about this now. I also saw that my balls were fuller than I'd ever seen, and indeed, veins were visible. Same for my erect penis. I'd never seen it this hard, and I saw the slit was wide open and that I was oozing precum, or, excuse me, natural juices.

I also saw that my hard nipples were jutting straight up and that they had gotten rather red in their erections. As if reading my mind, Mike said, "Your nipples look like pencil erasers," and laughed. I saw myself blush, realizing that if I had walked around topless in public like this, I would definitely receive comments and demands that I put on a shirt.

I had watched myself nude before, but never quite like this. This was raw indeed. Mike's lighting exposed me completely. I moved my left hand back down to my balls. It was time to finish myself off and put some clothes on.

I continued to masturbate, naked on this young hot stranger's couch. Eventually I knew I was getting close, and I said so. Mike came over and crouched beside me, flashing his little smirk. He no longer rubbed himself but I could see he was still hard underneath his clothes. His own nipples jutted through his T-shirt. I could feel his hot breath on my thighs not for the first time, but this of course was super-intimate to me. “Go for it,” he instructed. He flicked a finger over my right nipple and chuckled. I groaned, kind of unfortunately shrilly and high-pitched, and then it happened.

I grunted loudly and ejaculated. A lot, the most in quite a while, to be honest. The first stream of jizz came out so forcefully it almost hurt and it actually travelled all the way up to my chin and made a "splort" sound, which produced an actual scream from Mike, which amused me even though I could really have done without the splort sound. Then, true to his nature, Mike had to produce his belly laughs, describing my "ejaculation groan" as "off the charts magnificent, kind of feminine, but it matched your face" which humiliated me totally. More strands of cum came out as I continued to stroke my naked self, making an actual trail on my chest. It seemed pointless to attempt to regain any sense of modesty at this point. I wanted it all out of me and since he’d seen it all anyway I continued to pull on my hard penis until I felt I was done. Mike reached over and played with my spent penis, which was still quite sensitive, and I yelped and protested, which made him laugh and me annoyed. Still, I was glad it was over.

He licked his cum stained hand and proclaimed it “tasty.”

He also announced that he had never before seen such "thick cum," dipping his fingers into a particularly generous portion on my stomach and informing me that he "could pick it up with two fingers, just like your tiny dick," before depositing the glob of semen on my still erect right nipple. And of course, he had to take a close-up picture of that.

My humiliation was complete and my embarrassment was heavy. But I had gotten through it.

He wanted yet more close up pictures, so I let him take a few. He insisted on a “chin cum photo.” I balked at first but he assured me he would not include my face and would allow me to review it, promising to delete it if I didn’t approve. So I agreed, and he then took several more of my naked cum drenched chest, informing me that he would probably have those “blown up for my bedroom.” "It really makes your chest look good," he explained, dubiously.

I approved the “chin cum photo”, although I was dismayed with the amount of semen on my chin (much more than I realized) and that my lower lip was visible. Still, I was unidentifiable, so I let it go. Mike was so passionate about it, laughing that he had "never seen so much utterly porcelain cum."

Then after I had been returned my clothing, I got dressed, quickly, as he laughed at me and went back to typing not before whipping off his shirt to spite me. His chest was perfectly beautiful of course. "I'm gonna really jerk off tonight myself," he leered. Trimmed underarms, next-to-no chest hair, just a little between his defined swimmer's pecs and small nipples. It was gorgeous and I had a hard time not asking for a photograph. But I knew this guy woule use that as the last twist of the knife and mock me for daring to ask.

Mike also refused to provide me with a towel to wipe off. “I want you to walk around the city with that porcelain cum, because part of that is me,” he said. I had used the jockstrap to wipe the cum off my face, at least.

As I left, I heard him make a phone call, laughing and wildly using the words "cum" and "face" over and over again. The last words I heard as I exited were "water"  and "asshole." Humiliated totally, I went to a bar and got very hammered. It took me days to recover from my embarrassment, and when Mike’s shockingly detailed “notes” arrived in an email a week later, I had a setback and felt the humiliation all over again, especially when I noticed how many people (apparently all men, I recognized some of the first names he’d referenced during the incident) he had cc’d about my big epic nude scene. He also provided all the photos in the email. And I do mean all of them, close to forty. Some of them looked the same unless you took the time to examine them; Mike had obviously shot some of them as quickly as he could (particularly tits photos and several asshole photos).

The amazingly very vivid photos were of: my bare, hairless armpits (I did not recall posing for these. I was obviously on the couch, but when did Mike take these? I thought, drawing a blank), my penis and balls (flaccid--I cringed) and (hard) I was actually pleased at these to a degree, well, at least compared to the flaccid ones. Then tons of my pecs (or "titties")--Mike had really taken way too many of those and they embarrassingly showed off my hard nipples and areole vividly in living color. Then, not far behind, so to speak, heres:my anus (I'd forgotten how many he had taken of my anus: here were varieties of: bare, spread bare, fingers inside spread wide bare, spread wide bare with inserted fruit, and bare with the monstrous buttplug of blue, I really hated the latter three sets because they implied I was enjoying myself), and there was one of my full backside and ass with me facing away from the camera, I did not remember Mike taking this one, he must have done it when I was in the middle of moving to the couch or simply standing up after the exercises but I didn't panic because in this pic I'm not even in profile, my face was not visible at all, it's just a simple photo of me standing up, you "only" see the back of my head, my naked back, butt and legs, and overall it was and remains one of my favorite photographs ever taken of me because I think I look really good in it, to be honest; it's a fine masculine photo of a basically fit fair-skinned guy, even though I'm nude. I'd have no problem showing this particular photo to anyone if I knew them well enough and if I believed that they would not be offended by a nude picture of a man. It's basically a harmless art class pose, even though Mike took it clandestinely and I was unaware.

It does cross my mind that there are possibly similar pictures that were taken when I was unaware. But so far, nothing has surfaced and frankly I would be surprised, I think.

The picture of my spread asshole with water coming out of it was not as vivid as I'd feared, because he'd had to scramble to get it and it honestly wasn't as pristine as all the others, but he did indeed manage to get a shot of a spray of clear (thank GOD) water coming out of a nude man's anus. Actually, I thought this one lookied lind of unreal and photoshopped even though I knew full well it wasn't. "Who would really want to look at this, it just looks silly," I told myself. In the back of my mind, a voice intoned: "you know that doesn't look SILLY."

The picturess of my ass with the toothbrush sticking out of me WERE silly but embarrassing and I knew there would be some individuals who would find them interesting. The pics of my reddened ass made me uncomfortable because it implied total consent due to just how red they were. Mike's handprint was visible on my left cheek.

Oh yeah, and I should have put this in before: I'd been photographed naked, several times, by a boyfriend way before Mike, It was the boyfrriend's idea and he had to do MAJOR coaxing for weeks. But I trusted him. I don't where the hell THOSE photos are. Most of them are tame, but there is one....

Anyway back to Mike: He had also of course sent everyone the toothbrush photo of my penis, which simply looked strange, although this is definitely the most erect I've seen myself in any picture.  which is kind of amazing, considering what I was going through. Mike's hand is completely around my shaft, and you can still see quite a lot of it. This ridiculous pic does somewhat refute the many acorn pics and tawdry comments, so I don't regret it. If my face had been in it, or a lot of people knew exactly who this was, that would be another story. Even as a joke, this one would be hard to live down. The piss slit is engorged and wide open and quite noticeable but it appears it is right underneath a light. And it's also quite "moist." It's nothing you want floating around out there, so to speak.

But, on a very different and more serious note, speaking of "vivid," one of Mike's anus photos was so astoundingly graphic I got almost physically ill upon seeing it, yelling in protest when I opened it. tt was the one Mike had taken of my anus with the penlight from a crouching position. For what this photo was, it left absolutely nothing to the imagination. NOTHING. It immediately made forget all about the toothbrush picture. There is some scrotum in both pics, but in the penlight picture, but no one who sees THIS will focus on THAT. It's the imagery ABOVE the scrotum that will get God only knows how many views  It's an appalling picture. I can't really describe how intimate this infernal recording of my body part is. It was something only a doctor should be able to see and even then, it is more than a bit much. I cursed Mike when I saw it for the first time. It is a betrayal.

I should never have allowed Mike to photograph me this way, even if it was an anonymous closeup. I don't know how he took this picture so quickly. I wish I had not spread myself so totally as Mike had requested for this but believe me, I am fully spread and no one is making me do it. Those are MY hands, really showing off MY anus. Thank God I was obviously totally scrubbed but still this was and is no real consolation. If I had seen this pic before I left his apartment (and I blame myself for not asking to do so), I would have absolutely demanded he delete it. I should have asked to review it, as I knew he was using that penlight, knew the likely result. These thoughts had fleetingly crossed my mind but in my haste to dress, flee and drown myself in booze, these thoughts did not manifest at the time. Mike should never have distributed this obscene picture of me to his friends. He had to know it would be upsetting to me when I found out but I can imagine that leering look on his face as he hit "send." This particular picture is a violation that would be upsetting to anyone with a shred of modesty, I believe. My only comfort is that is anonymous and it cannot be proven that the picture is of MY asshole. If God forbid I was ever asked, I'd just scoff and say "are you kidding?" But make no mistake, it is a GRAPHIC PICTURE OF THE INTERIOR OF A MAN'S ANUS, and then some. It's awfully clear as well considering his conditions taking it. But I'm so glad to "help." 

In any of these pictures, you could not tell it was me. But I knew it was me, and so did the 22 year old Mike. And his friends knew it was a 45 year old naked businessman named "David." I was sure all the photos had been passed around and mocked, especially the awful anus penlight pic. I could only imagine the gasps and  derisive comments made about the flaccid penis pics, the finger fucking pics, the buttplug pics, even some of the erect nipple pics and particularly the dreadfully concise anus penlight pic and was glad I'd never have to hear of those reactions (but keep reading). 

I never saw Mike again and he has never tried to contact me (most likely out of guilt). It was just too humiliating for ME to contact him and I knew it would be a reminder of how much he debased me, especially after encountering the photos he'd posted.

The matter of the photos basically ruined him for me. I worried a lot about running into him somewhere in the city. It has never happened, but I have avoided his neighborhood ever since. i imagine he has congratulated himself on his achievement, and his friends have slapped him on the back with thanks for providing them with amusement.

But truth be told, this story exists primarily because of Mike’s “notes.” As maddening as it was to listen to him do them. He typed graphic details of my body, some good and flattering (ass), some annoying (David's "natural hairlessness" and "cute belly"), some very embarrassing (genitals), and he had also included, quite adroitly, many of the verbal aspects of the scene. I had to marvel at that, as degrading as some of it was (he did not hold back on any of the acorn penis remarks--indeed he piled it on, referring to his photos as "unrefuted evidence"), Clearly, all that typing he did that Saturday afternoon must have been in his own unique code, and he had fleshed it out (so to speak) later. I recognized some of the verbal stuff verbatim. It was uncanny. Considerable differences aside, I have to admit, he's a good writer.

He did toss in one unforgivable, vicious and stinging assessment of my physique: "David's rather large nipples were in 3-D from the moment he became topless. The reason for that remains a mystery. I suppose he just can't control it. As you can see his ample breasts resemble those of a breast-feeding woman. Actually that's what they feel like as well. At moments I thought he might actually lactate. But when soft, his so-called "penis" is nothing more than a nub of skin with a hole buried in a small forest of soft blonde hair. Not exactly manly. You can see for yourself in the photos, in which, as you can see David has no qualms about exhibiting his deep rectum freely. Also be sure to notice that David's darker testicles are totally out of proportion to his extremely little paler cock. I hesitate to use the word 'deformity', but the viewer can judge for himself, or herself. I have provided several photos as proof. Please examine each carefully. Although he willingly opened his ass for inspection repeatedly, and his ass lips obviously can embrace buttplugs, David did not want these wee-wee pics taken, and you will certainly see why. As for the erection (if you can call it that) the viewer should consider themselves lucky, as the little hard-on was fleeting at best and I tried to be nice and make the angles of these particular photos more than adequately flattering since David's cock is otherwise almost nonexistent; his erection wasn't impressive in real life at all. His erection is smaller than my dick is soft (and most men's I know, to be perfectly honest). David's normal penis size is simply sub-par and I was surprised he was willing to "display" it. Just look for yourself. Even blown up and framed and exhibited prominently in a well-lit room at a well-attended party, the candid color photos of this 45 year old man's miniscule member remain completely unimpressive, albeit amusing. You can guess the pathetic single digit size easily. Hint: It is WELL under three. I measured it (or rather, TRIED to measure it). My friends have played hilarious and giddy guessing games looking at these pictures and most of them get the size right fairly quickly, almost always commenting that is one of the smallest penises they have ever ever seen. The photos of David's rectal area are also very popular and many of my friends have blown them up for their homes. One friend on Fire Island has devoted an entire wall to David's butthole and has told me it has attracted a lot of attention in the community with everyone asking "who IS that, and was he drunk?" For instance, look at the photo with ice cube water coming out of David's rectum liike a geyser.  My Fire Island friend says that one is the most popular and that he's made many many copies." NONE of the photos of David are copyrighted. Please make copies and distribute them as you wish. The photos of David's big titties are among my most popular, since most people don't believe the titties look like a man's. One of my friends has a candid of David's enormous titties on a white T-shirt (his favorite, BTW, he has it dry-cleaned to the uproarious reaction of the cleaners) and the shirt always gets a lot of attention and laughs, especially from young women in bars and the dry-cleaners of course, who tell my friend they have enjoyed taking pictures of it for themselves. One of the dry cleaners told my friend that one such picture is framed in his office because it has to be seen to be believed. This is a straight man doing this, so the "appeal" of David's titties appears to be universal. Another friend went so far as to put it on his cell phone, which also gets a lot of notice especially in gay bars on weekends. I imagine the other photos of David are similarly all over town, except maybe for the one of his mancave. People are particularly fascinated by David's jutting nipples and comment that the things look like they could poke out an eye." How can someone so young be so heartless. Reading that, I got into a deep funk for a long time.

After that cruel description, I was "grateful" that Mike made no other specfic reference to the anus penlight picture specifically and just hoped anyone looking at that would just glance at it and move on in shock and disgust. He must have assumed the viewer would need no additional information, since the picture speaks for itself, however obscenely. Although if you re-read his nasty diatribe about my pecs and my cock, there are veiled references to the penlight, which I realize are deliberate.

If Mike ever stumbles across this website I am certain he will get a kick of it since he is an evil little pervert.

Not soon after I received Mike's "report," I did receive one mystery email out of the blue. It was from his friend “Greg.” The title of the email was "All your glory, and the manly contours of the special cave." Queasily I opened this email. I saw it had attachments. Stomach rumbling, I read the initial message, which said, “I’d like to buy you that sports bra, and I love the pics of your titties and your big hard nipples, they give me lots of pleasure and they're on my wall, I only wish I could have sucked and fondled them” and "Thanks for the mammaries. TRULY NICE DAVID. LOL." There was a third, astoundingly long paragraph about my areole, where he used that word more than I'd ever seen before and I don't need to tell you more.

Mysteriously, Greg had also added this: "Here's looking at ya, asshole. Greg." I didn't at first realize the meaning of this last comment, just thinking it was a random rude insult but odd considering the tone of his initial comments, until I noticed those attachments again and I knew what I was probably going to be seeing. Greg had thoughtfully and sadistically provided me with,  in normal size, ALL the pics of my “titties,” including the one with semen smeared onto my nipple, in living color, plus, to my horror, a somewhat blown up “chin cum pic” and most alamingly, the nightmarish graphic penlight anus pic, which I had foolishly hoped was just too off the charts explicit for even the kinkiest people to look at more than once.

Quite the contrary. To my sincere and utter distress, with the penlight anus pic, this "Greg" had taken the time to somehow blow it up to an even more obscenely explicit degree exposing every nuance of my anus, which meant he and some technicians or something had been willing and able to stare at it for quite a while. Which Greg and the technicians had done by choice, probably laughing all along at my stupidity. Which meant all of these issues turned Greg on (I don't know about the technicians). Or something. And Greg was probably not the only one of MIke's gang to revel in this aspect of my embarrassment and severe humiliation. How many of them had stared at this picture (and all the other pictures, for that matter)? How many of them had printed COPIES? Harrowing to consider. It nauseated me to realize that people had drooled over my manly "contours." Not a fun concept if you have an ounce of humility or modesty. Actually, it is rather grotesque in the long run. But OK, there is something about it, can't deny it, I'm writing nonfiction about it. But where does it get you?

Well, back to the nightmare photo. To imagine this photo as someone's screen saver is mind-blowing. To see it in an email again, blown up to the size of a film poster was terrifying. Contours. Man cave. OMG. I worked in an office and I knew co-workers surfed porn when they could get away with it. Would someone recognize me? (Admittedly, that was far-fetched and I didn't spend a lot of time on it.)

This was one big mistake I'd made. Seriously? Who would stare at this stuff and take the time to blow it up and send it back to me?

This truly bothered me, because I knew if Mike had been asked "what does David look like really? Describe him as best you can." I could just HEAR that question. They would have wanted to put a face on top of the asshole or special cave or whatnot, so to speak. Prodded, I am sure little Mike, pleased with getting another one over on big Dave,  would have had no problem happily blathering on and describing my overall appearance with his penchant for detail and gleefully focusing on the acorn which he had in evidence photographically, probably describing me as formerly fat and still somewhat fleshy and going on in further degrading detail (and I'm sure his friends had very likely pressed him for those details and he had willingly provided them, probably with that maniacal grin plastered on his face while on the phone or via text, email or in some bar). I imagined multiple printouts of these naked pictures of my body being spread out on tables, possibly even in public like they were just nothing. I imagine the ccomments: "Look at how his sphincter can hold in the buttplug. He must like how it feels." That comment actually was in Mike's notes, so it's not a stretch to imagine someone blurting it out loud while staring at one of the buttplug photos.. 

I also began to worry that Mike had somehow on the sly snapped a pic of my face, but I dismissed this thought because it made me crazy to consider it. Also, I don't think I would have missed that, being on the lookout for it, and even if he managed to slip this by me, I think Mike would have probably provided proof of this in an email just to humiliate me further. He obviously had no qualms about my feelings after I went through with my end of our bargain and he clearly got off on extending my humiliation afterwards. I considered contacting him about this concern, but I did not. I made myself dismiss the thought. It seemed like it would possibly make things worse, and best just to let all this go unless I had to one day really address it.

I reasoned that I could always deny the numerous multiple anonymous closeups were me; there was no real proof they were me unless you'd been (very) intimate with me in the past. If pressed, I'd probably have to squirm about the full backside shot, because that is clearly my short blonde haircut which I always keep the same and anyone who'd seen me on a beach might instanttly recognize me since the physique in the pic matches me obviously and I sure don't look fat in it, thank you very much. But I'd just say the other shots were of someone else and that it was all a joke of some kind to connect me with these pics. I'd never admit to posing in the manner of the close-up pics. And I'd try to laugh (no, I'd MAKE MYSELF LAUGH) at the acorn penis pics with bravado (any guy with a reasonable ego would do the same since Mike shot those when I was at my most humiliated, embarrassed and shrivelled). I'd loudly scoff and deride particularly the nightmarish, horrendously colorrful  penlight anus picture, dismissing it as porno (which, frankly, it really is, and I am not exaggerating). But of course, no one would likely believe me if they really wanted to connect the dots, ultimately, if my denials weren't 100% convincing (and I've never been a convincing liar, unlike the devious Mike).

I was not amused by "Greg" and his "praise" or fanhood and I did not respond to him (although I considered doing so for a period of time out of sheer abject curiosity). But I didn't sleep well the night I received his email, knowing that this penlight anus pic was so available--even under anonymity--to anyone, and in poster size if one was inclined to take the time to do so. And that it had been circulated at all. Mike should have refrained from that. It was a cruel thing for him to do. I regret the whole thing because of this picture.

To this day I will not look at that picture again (I deliberately made that impossible and deleted any trace of it from my emails) even though I know it is out there and readily available for others to view. The image is unfortunately burned into my brain anyway. I mean, it is MY ASSHOLE, not to mention, my INSIDES.

But obviously Greg (and others) have and will look at it and "enjoy" it. This was MIke's ultimate humiliation of me. He's a smug, intelligent prick and he had to know that this would sting. I can almost "bet" that he, and at the very least, Greg, have laughed about it, imagining my alarmed reaction. I can just hear them: "Can you imagine David seeing this? I mean, look at it. There is nothing left to your imagination! Is this an anus or is this a rectum?" and other such mockery.

Any sane adult man would be upset by this photo even though it is an anonymous one. Even though I "posed" for it, it is still a huge violation of privacy that should not have occurred and especially, distributed to others, even for entertainment purposes. I did once tell a friend about it, in a bar, certainly not showing it, and he sympathetically agreed it was over the top. Then, sadly, he asked to see it to see if was "as bad" as I was saying. I still had it in Mike's original email and Greg's supersize version, and this exchange prompted me to get rid of both. My friend never got a look at it and he was sincerely disappointed. He kept asking to see it. You just never know about people sometimes.

And it is almost certain that Greg (and others in Mike's orbit) have jerked off to it, probably often, which is I will admit can be disturbing if I ponder that. I've told myself to get a sense of humor about it, but I it is difficult. Mike went a bit too far. Some men might get off on this. I am not one of them. This type of appreciation does not flatter me whatsoever and I actually at times get depressed that I did this--happily, this is a fleeting thing, but it comes in, I feel more naked than ever on that wintry Saturday afternoon in Mike's apartment with him taking his T-shirt off at the last posssible minute. This particular photo of a man's ass is a severe violation, because I liked and trusted Mike and I feel he should have used a bit more discretion, really. It simply isn't a pleasant thing to see your open asshole blown up like a balloon for everyone to gawk at. I mean, just consider that. I only can hope and pray there is not a shot of my face anywhere to be included in any distribution of the nude photos. So far, no one has ever approached me physically to say "hey Dave, did you know that you're on the internet....."

It really made me feel llike an old horndog idiot, and I thought Mike to be totally unfair to me. That made me depressed, I have to say. I did like Mike, in his crazy way. He was physically one of the most handsome guys I'd ever encountered, hands down. I wish he had liked me more on a more intellectual level, and respected me accordingly. We could easily have been friends and maybe more. But Mike was more into humiliation, my acorn penis and my butthole and my friggin' titties on a Saturday afternoon. Well, to be fair to  myself, he was pretty much into me a lot everywhere. It's too bad he has a mean streak, I guess.

So, so much for CMNM. I've never pursued it since. Once bitten, twice shy. But I would turn the tables on Mike in a heartbeat with utter relish if provided the opportunity. And I'd do it in a public way and arrange it not only to be photographed, but filmed for posterity. I'm open to suggestions!!!

Revenge can be sweet, you know. And Mike has it "coming."

Mike: I know you're out there, you little bitch. If you ever read this, here's a word for you: KARMA.

Apologies for any typos. This is my first post on this website and it took me awhile to get the hang of it. Also, my partner keeps trying to see what I'm typing. He doesn't need to know any of this. I'd never live it down. 

THE END