The Bought Exhibitionist

Stefan was a pretty boy. Slim, very dark hair, but otherwise rather a pale type with blue eyes and distinctive lips. He had just turned 18 and the last school year at high school had begun for him.

At school, he was more of an outsider. This was mainly due to his rather shy and reserved way of assessing the situation for himself. The second reason, his not particularly rosy financial situation, he was to admit.

Stefan's father had finally turned from a medium-sized construction company to a temporary employment agency due to many unfortunate circumstances. Although he was constantly toiling, abroad a lot and almost never at home, not much money remained.

But Stefan's parents were too proud to make use of wellfare programs, and so Stefan's mother took on various part-time jobs, especially cleaning. So at least the money was enough to live, but luxury and status symbols were not even remotely conceivable.

At times, Stefan had tried to contribute something to the clammy family budget by carrying out newspapers, but because the good delivery districts could only be obtained with relationships, the remuneration for the time spent turned out to be absolutely inappropriate. It was Stefan's parents who advised him to concentrate on school so that he would have it better. Somehow you will make ends meet with the money for the few years.

So Stefan was content with cheap clothes, which he wore as long as possible, and was frugal in his lifestyle, which is why it was out of the question for him to go to the cinema with other students or to participate in other activities that cost money.

What contrast was the blonde Marcel, who was almost the centre of the whole school. His father worked in investment banking and seemed to have unlimited amounts of money. Certainly, occasionally there was a little critical talk in school about the fact that this profession does a lot of damage to the world, because the unrestrained maximization of profits pushed aside all morality and ethics.

But who would have seriously and loudly criticized the noble donor, who financed wonderful school festivals and had already made many things possible, from the concert grand piano for the school orchestra to new football goals for the sports field, which was unimaginable in the regular budget of the school.

The fact that money does not stink was probably known to everyone who inhaled the sweetly tart scent cloud of noble men's perfumes that always surrounded the blonde Marcel. Dressed in the hottest clothes of the most renowned fashion labels and equipped with the most modern consumer electronics, it was easy for Marcel to impress his fellow classmates.

In addition to the scent of fine perfumes, Marcel was always surrounded by some classmates who probably hoped that a little shine from Marcel would rub off on them and tried to please him.

But even to go out with Marcel on the weekend, you needed more money for admissions and drinks than Stefan could ever have raised. And so the way into Marcel's clique was blocked for Stefan, even if he had wanted to.

Stefan was all the more surprised when Marcel approached him one day and asked if he had anything planned after school.

"Homework, a little TV, helping in the household," Stefan enumerated slightly by surprise.

"You could certainly postpone your homework a little, for the incredible chance to get to know me better," Marcel enticed with his incredible self-confidence, which could also be classified as self-infatuation.

"I don't have any money to go away with you and your people, you know that very well," Stefan made his concerns and limitations clear.

"Today is free, your lucky day, so to speak, just come along after school and chat a little, maybe there will be completely new perspectives for you," Marcel enticed.

"What kind of perspectives?" asked Stefan, completely confused.

"Just come along, you'll see," laughed Marcel and left the confused Stefan to return to the familiar circle of his clique.

During the rest of the lessons, Stefan began to ponder again and again what this strange invitation meant and whether he should accept it, especially since Marcel no longer paid attention to him as usual.

So Stefan went to the bus stop after class, because he no longer dared to talk to Marcel about the surprising offer.

But halfway through, Marcel's black BMW M3 with the booming sports exhaust system drove up to the pavement next to Stefan and the electric window regulator silently lowered the side window.

"What now? You won't want to reject my offer?" shouted Marcel from the driver's seat.

"I wasn't sure if it was meant seriously," Stefan replied shyly.

"Would I follow you otherwise? Now finally get in," Marcel confirmed his intention.

So curiosity finally triumphed over skepticism and Stefan carefully opened the passenger door. With the utmost caution, Stefan finally got into the car. Just don't scratch the car, Stefan thought, that's definitely priceless.

As soon as Stefan sat next to Marcel, he was powerfully pushed into the seat.

"331 kW, 450 hp," Marcel proudly announced.

Stefan tried to relax, which was not so easy with Marcel's driving style. During the drive, Marcel prayed down all the features of his car and Stefan wondered if Marcel had memorized the sales brochure.

"Marcel, sorry, I didn't have any money for driving school yet, but don't you have to drive 50 in the city?" Stefan finally interrupted Marcel's raving.

"No, what nonsense," laughed Marcel, "you only have to drive 50 if you don't have money for traffic tickets."

From Stefan's point of view, the most pleasant aspect of the ride was clearly that it was over quickly. The heavy, wrought-iron gate with Art Nouveau ornaments opened automatically and Marcel parked his BMW on a property with a large villa.

"We're here," Marcel announced.

With his mouth open, Stefan ran after Marcel in amazement, who carelessly threw his school supplies into the corner in the impressive hallway and turned into the living room.

"First a small drink as a greeting, let me see what I have to offer for a very special guest," Marcel sounded and opened a noble-looking burl wood cabinet, in which there were numerous bottles of spirits.

Stefan was a little worried. His experiences with were limited to beer from a discount brand, which his father occasionally gave him while watching TV together, which was rare enough. What was Marcel up to? Should he refuse? What was this guy up to?

How would Stefan know that Marcel was merely imitating the behavior of his father, who described the welcome drink at the house bar as creating a pleasant atmosphere for conversation. And for the conversation that Marcel still wanted to have with Stefan, a certain looseness would be quite helpful.

"Ah, that's something fine," Marcel explained with an emphatically important vocal range, "my father brought the whisky here from his last trip from the USA, from such a special manufactory, where you need relationships to be allowed to buy anything at all."

With an anxious look, Stefan watched as Marcel filled two glasses, fortunately not too crowded.

"You can be sure, such a bottle costs over 500 euros," Marcel boasted, "but it's worth every penny, you'll taste the difference to cheap booze like Jack Daniels."

Stefan was at a loss. How could he taste a difference if he hadn't even drunk the whisky reviled as cheap? But refuse? A glass whose contents, even in small quantities, were probably more expensive than anything he bought in a whole week?

"To the beginning of a very special friendship," Marcel said solemnly.

Still completely unclear about Marcel's true motives, Stefan toasted with him and carefully drank the noble drop. It was not a special treat for Stefan, he even struggled with not having to cough.

"So, tasty?" Marcel asked expectantly.

"Uh, yes, no comparison to the cheap booze," Stefan tried to share Marcel's enthusiasm.

"Do you actually do a lot of sports?", Marcel suddenly wanted to know.

"Why do you ask?" Stefan asked back in amazement.

"Well, you have broad shoulders, plus the incredibly narrow waist, the flat tummy, not many boys at our school have such a great figure," Marcel flattered.

"Really?" replied Stefan, completely confused. The fact that Marcel complimented him was even more unusual than drinking hard .

"Oh yes, have you never noticed how many double Whoppers are running around at our school? At that age, where should this end?", Marcel added.

"I've honestly never thought about it before," Stefan admitted insecurely.

"How is it that such an attractive guy like you doesn't have a girlfriend?" Marcel continued.

"Umpf, oh, don't know, but girls don't want anyone who can't even take them out to eat," stammered Stefan.

"Oh, excuse me, I completely forgot your problems," Marcel feigned, "but you absolutely have to try this wonderful grappa before we move on to my booth."

"Marcel, I can never return that favour in my life," Stefan replied.

"Who knows," Marcel proclaimed promisingly and handed Stefan the glass, "Cheers!"

Stefan found the grappa a little more pleasant than the whisky, but he was now also slightly dizzy. But he also felt pleasantly elated.

"How tall are you?" asked Marcel with an admiring look.

"1.83 metres, why?" Stefan revealed uncertainly.

"Wow, 8 cm taller than me, I wouldn't have thought," Marcel said with an astonished look.

Stefan pondered what all this was supposed to do. With the highly stylized blond hair, the upright posture and the all-breaking self-confidence, Stefan would have estimated his counterpart at more than 1.75 meters, but in the end that didn't matter.

"So, I'll show you my room now," Marcel announced, and Stefan followed him to the first floor, focusing a little on his steps on the marble staircase. In addition to an actually elevated mood, the had caused a slight dizziness, which was quickly overcome.

Once again, Stefan's jaw dropped as he entered Marcel's room. That was easily bigger than the whole apartment where Stefan lived with his parents.

In one corner there was a large desk diagonally, behind it a large executive chair, in front of it a smaller visitor chair, as in a real management office.

Large room took up a cozy sofa corner with a huge flat screen TV, just as huge appeared the bed in the other corner of the room.

A walk-in closet and several more closets with clothes and plenty of consumer electronics completed the room. Marcel let the dark woods and the expensive electronics work on the almost overwhelmed Stefan for a while before he went on to his actual plan.

Marcel casually pulled a shoebox out of one of his cupboards, opened it and pressed it into Stefan's hand: "What do you think?"

Stefan got big eyes and gasped for air. Exactly this version of the Nike Air Max iD he had recently admired in a shop, but of course he could only look at it because they were far beyond his financial possibilities.

Full of admiration, Stefan stared into the box. That was his absolute dream model. Even in his favorite color combination, several stripes in different shades of blue.

"These are the coolest shoes there is," burst out of Stefan's enthusiasm.

"Yes, I think they're really trendy," Marcel affirmed, "but by a stupid coincidence they are two numbers too big for me. I have size 42, but could it be that they would fit you?"

"I have 44," Stefan confirmed excitedly.

"Then give it a try," Marcel encouraged.

Stefan couldn't believe his luck. With trembling hands, he took the shoes out of the box, looked at them from all sides, before he brushed off his worn-out cheap shoes and carefully let his feet slide into the brand new Nikes.

Of course, Stefan was too overwhelmed at that moment, and perhaps by his nature a little too naïve to realize that it was much less of a coincidence than Marcel had just claimed.

In preparation for his plans, Marcel had secretly observed how Stefan had put these shoes back on the shelf in the department store, almost with tears in his eyes. As soon as Stefan was out of sight, Marcel had bought the shoes. Such a spontaneous purchase over 180 euros was ultimately not an issue for him.

While Stefan walked through Marcel's room with the new Nikes, Marcel carefully considered his next steps. First of all, Stefan should get used to the shoes a little.

"You look really good in your shoes, Stefan," Marcel flattered skillfully.

"Yes, you also run very differently in it than with... well you know," Stefan confirmed his good feeling with a brief sideways glance at his old shoes.

For a while Stefan stood in front of the mirror and admired himself from all sides with the new shoes.

"Imagine if they were yours," Marcel continued.

"That would be amazing, but they cost 180 euros in the store," Stefan interjected.

"They're too big for me anyway, I could imagine just leaving them to you, if you might do me a little favor for it," Marcel approached the real reason for his unexpected invitation.

"Just give it like that?" cried Stefan in amazement.

"For a small favor, such a little gratitude is part of gifts, but that's certainly clear to you," Marcel emphasized his intention once again.

"Yes, of course, as long as I don't need money for it, that's not a problem, what should I do for you?" asked Stefan curiously.

"In principle, it's just a small thing, not only does it not cost you any money, but in fact it doesn't even cost you time," Marcel enticed.

"That sounds too good to be true, and of course I would be totally grateful if I could keep the Nikes, I don't know if I can accept that," Stefan explained his enthusiasm combined with his gratitude and slight embarrassment.

"Great, then we are almost in agreement," Marcel rejoiced, "take a seat so that we can talk a few more little things. Do you still like a whisky cola?"

"Not so much , I'm not used to that," Stefan tried to slow down his host a bit, while he was amazed that Macel had his own minibar in the closet behind his executive chair.

Unmoved by Stefan's words, Marcel mixed two glasses of whisky-cola and pushed one to his guest, then casually lounging with his glass in his executive chair.

For the sake of courtesy, Stefan took a small sip when Marcel toasted him, and then put the glass back on the desk.

"You know, Stefan, I have to confess to my shame that I am a very mischievous person," Marcel began his explanation, "I like to watch viedeo clips in which the mishaps of other people are made fun of."

"That's not bad, I've seen something like that from time to time," admitted Stefan, who after this introduction almost had the feeling that he had to give Marcel an apology for his supposedly bad conscience.

"Unfortunately, far too little happens in real life," Marcel now philosophized casually, "especially at our school. It's so boring. That's why I'm looking for someone who occasionally stages a little mishap that I can enjoy with my buddies."

"You mean I should stumble in front of you and your buddies on purpose?" asked Stefan, slightly irritated.

"In principle," Marcel noted with satisfaction, "but stumbling is boring. I'm thinking more of a real classic, of which you often read reports on the Internet. A small, embarrassing mishap that has already happened to many boys, but unfortunately never at our school, you might think. I don't know why that is, whether they all have such a good grip on each other or don't have chatty people in the class to tell it further. Of course, there are not so many who could be affected at all."

"What exactly do you mean? What are you getting at?" asked Stefan confused, who could not yet make a rhyme with Marcel's words.

"I would like to experience how after the sport someone gets a hard on in the shower," Marcel now let the bomb burst.

"But I only shower at home," Stefan shouted frightened. At school there was no compulsory shower and only a few boys used the showers in the sports hall, most showered just because of the feeling of shame and the fear of spontaneous erections at home.

"That's why you're the ideal candidate," Marcel explained with a grin, "because if it happened to one of the few permanent showerers, it would be embarrassing for him and amusing for everyone else, but you would have much more attention. Nobody at school has ever seen your penis, they all look at it curiously when you walk around naked for the first time, every movement on your dick.

Stefan took a deep breath, gulped and frantically took another big sip of whiskey cola because he became terribly nervous. Somehow he had the hope that the small favor would be a little easier. He was raised very conservatively and at home nudity was a taboo subject. The idea of exposing himself in front of the other students did not please him at all. On the other hand, he became more aware that Marcel was not a nice guy who gave him shoes worth 180 euros for a few warm words. is observed very closely and immediately commented on extensively."

"So? What do you say?" Marcel asked curiously and provocatively.

"I don't think I can do that," Stefan said.

"Impotent?", Marcel provoked further.

"No, no, not that, but I don't want everyone to see my penis," Stefan lamented.

"Are you ashamed of your pipe? Is it small, or malformed?" asked Marcel.

"No, it's just, you know, it's just, well, something very intimate, to show others your penis," stammered Stefan.

"And now imagine if you didn't just have these Nikes on your feet, but also 100 euros in cash in your wallet," Marcel enticed and spread out five 20-euro bills on the desk in one compartment. For a moment he let the sight of the cash affect Stefan.

Visibly nervous, Stefan slid back and forth on the chair. On the one hand there was his conscience and his sense of shame, on the other hand a few Nike Air Max for 180 euros, which he wanted so much, and an incredible amount of cash on his desk.

"What's in it when a few other people besides you know what your cock looks like?", Marcel deliberately talked the matter down.

"For me, there is already a lot in it," Stefan emphasized once again, which overcoming such an action would cost him.

"Of course, I can also offer the money to someone else," Marcel increased the pressure on Stefan. He demonstratively pushed the bills from the fan to a bundle.

"How long do I have to be naked? And above all," Stefan swallowed briefly, "how long does he have to,... you know."

"As long as possible," Marcel shocked Stefan with a broad grin, "but for the sake of fairness we will set a few minimum requirements as to when the task is considered to have passed."

"And they would be?" asked Stefan excitedly.

Marcel leaned back self-indulgently: "Tomorrow for sports you bring shower stuff, a towel and a bottle of shower gel are enough. You take the place in the changing room at the back left, from where the longest way to the door is from the shower room. After the sport, you take off your clothes there, completely, everything, and put your clothes neatly on the bench."

"Does it necessarily have to be the place at the very back of the corner?", Stefan followed with some discomfort.

"Of course, we want you to be naked for as long as possible and to attract the attention of the others with your naked body," Marcel confirmed his intention, "and only when you are completely naked do you get the shower gel out. You leave the towel in your bag, that has lost nothing in the shower room anyway."

Marcel enjoyed Stefan's obvious nervousness and continued with his description: "You make sure that your arms remain sideways from the body and nothing is hidden. Then you turn around and walk comfortably through the changing room towards the shower room. If something is already stirring, all the better, inconspicuous help is of course only possible in the shower. But who knows, maybe you'll like it when everyone is glaring at your bat."

"I can't imagine that," sighed Stefan.

"But you haven't tried it yet, so you can't know how it feels," laughed Marcel, "and because you're in the shower room for the first time, you can also walk up and down a bit first, look at everything before you choose a shower."

"Do I really have to prolong this so artificially?" asked Stefan in horror.

"Yes, of course," Marcel confirmed, "I want a lot of guys to take notice of you. They will also look very attentively at your cock because you have never showered with them before. Those who always take a shower already know each other. In this respect, a new one in the shower is particularly interesting. Because everyone is looking at you, they will most likely quickly notice your mishap."

"By mishap you mean that I should get a hard on," Stefan hooked, although he was already aware of the answer.

"Sure, it's best to have it then," Marcel giggled, "and you choose a shower as close to the centre as possible and opposite the front door, so that you have a good view of your cock not only in the shower room, but also from the changing room. After all, the guys who don't take a shower should also have fun with it. You are only allowed to turn to the wall for a very short time to turn up the water and adjust the temperature. Then you immediately turn back with your cock towards the shower room and door to the changing room."

"And if it doesn't get hard at all?" Stefan wanted to know.

"I expect that already in the locker room you think intensely about things that excite you sexually and you get hard down there as quickly as possible, but at the latest, when the water runs and you soap up, it has to become stiff. If thoughts are not enough, you can jerk inconspicuously when soaping. Oh yes, there is another important point at this point, are you actually circumcised?", Marcel came to the next embarrassing question.

"Um," hesitated Stefan, who was indeed extremely uncomfortable talking to Marcel about such intimate things.

"Come on, don't dress up, after the action everyone knows anyway what you look like down there and whether you are circumcised," Marcel affirmed his question.

Stefan took another extra large sip of whiskey cola against his nervousness and took a deep breath before admitting: "No, I'm uncircumcised."

"Do you have a long or a short foreskin?", Marcel left the next questions from the stack.

"My foreskin is rather short, when my penis is flaccid, it just covers the glans, and when it enlarges, it slides back by itself, if it is completely stiff, a maximum of the back third of the glans is still covered, but this can be easily pushed back with the hand," Stefan explained visibly embarrassed.

"Sounds good," Marcel noted, "naked glans is of course also mandatory. So at the latest when soaping, the penis must be completely hard and the foreskin completely retracted. From then on, you have to present your rock-hard stand and your bare glans openly for all to see."

"And then?" Stefan asked further.

"After you have washed your intimate area and brought it to the desired state, you will wash your hair, which is good because then the hands remain at the top of the head. Then you wash your entire naked body thoroughly and finally again the genital area. You will use this opportunity extensively to fumble yourself unobtrusively, but very intensely, so that your cock is fully horny and is really hard and bulging on the way back to the locker room," Marcel explained again with a grin.

"It's all totally sick," Stefan protested.

Unmoved, Marcel continued: "You will rinse off the foam thoroughly, turn off the water, just stand under the shower for a few moments until the heaviest amount of water has drained off, and then slowly and comfortably return to your place. I expect the stand to remain hard at least until you reach your place again. Then you can get your towel out of your pocket and do whatever you want."

"Forget it, that's just weird, I don't do that," Stefan indignantly rejected the offer.

"Well, I just have to look for someone else who accepts my gifts more gratefully," said Marcel and demonstratively put the banknotes back in, "so take off your shoes."

Stefan bent forward and opened the loop on his left shoe. Sadly, he once again lovingly stroked the magnificent shoe.

"It's a real pity, they could so easily be yours," Marcel added to the regret about the loss in Stefan. With an inner satisfaction, he registered Stefan's hesitation.

"You know, Stefan, maybe I just overtaxed you a little bit and it all went a bit too fast, but you still have a lot of time to think," Marcel now spoke in an emphatically conciliatory and friendly sounding voice, "what do you think of keeping your shoes on for the first time and coming to school tomorrow?"

"What do you mean by that?" asked Stefan in amazement.

"The way I say it. Take the shoes home with you, have fun with them and think about your decision in peace. As a precaution, you take a towel and shower gel with you tomorrow morning, but then you still have time to think," Marcel was emphatically willing to compromise.

"And then?", Stefan wanted to know more curiously.

"You make your decision after the sports lesson," Marcel explained, "either we all get to see your cock with a bare cockhead and you go out of the gym with these hammer-Nikes and get the 100 euros from me..."

Marcel took a short break from art and picked up Stefan's worn-out old shoes from the floor.

"... or you choose the privacy for your dick and have to put these embarrassing, scorched loser shoes back on after the sports lesson. And your wallet is probably empty."

While Stefan sat brooding on the chair, Marcel packed the old shoes into the shoebox in which the Nikes had previously been.

"Well, tomorrow I'll bring them to school and you decide after the sport which one you want to run around with in the future," Marcel added.

Stefan tied the laces of the left shoe again. For a few hours he could still enjoy the shoes with this offer and tomorrow he would return them with a heavy heart, because such exposure was still unimaginable for him.

"I think it's best to go home now, be happy about the great pedals and let everything go through your head again in peace," said Marcel.

It was more of an expulsion, but for Marcel his goal for the day had been achieved, a further discussion with Stefan wouldn‘t bring any advantage anymore, and Stefan was quite happy to be accompanied to the door, because he also had the urgent need to process this experience in peace.

Marcel closed the door behind Stefan and went back to his room grinning contentedly. The fish was hanging on the line and tomorrow he would pull it ashore. Everything worked for him. The longer Stefan wore the shoes, the harder it would be for him to return them. Marcel loved to manipulate other people for his pleasure.