His heartbeat throbbed in his head. He twirled his bare foot on the carpet, covering himself, by reflex, as best he could.
The men's bellowing yell in his ear was drowned out as the lad was dizzied by the pure shock of it all. He felt a cool draft on his bottom–and deep, pure shame, like he would never feel dignity ever again.
He looked down to avoid facing the man, but couldn't escape his thoughts.
Fuck, they can see me. Everything. Cousin Cindy can see my fucking penis. Tommy had been made to go in his underwear every so often, but never
like this.
Cry and you can stay like that till Monday!
He felt his cousin's wicked smile all the way from the corner of his eye.
He was "learning shame," as it was called–18 or not, his hard-ass old school father was, ahem, less than happy to find him smoking a marijuana cigarette in the shower.
It took all of 20 seconds to rip the dripping wet, fully bare teen and strong-arm him into the living room, to the shock (which soon turned to a barely concealed delight) of the its occupants
Keep your ass in that corner till I tell you to move! You can show off till sundown.
Gulp.
It was his aunt's bunko night.
