Tuesday, December 31, 2013

(M/M) In the Marines and Abroad - A Ballbusting Romance - NEW

So I felt really romantic and frivolous today, and in response I whipped up this little ditty. It's inspired by one of my favorite Youtube vloggers russmarine2014 who's a real, gay, marine (and REALLY cute), and it's dedicated to BBmal and Alex for their strategic use of ballbusting in stories instead of my frequently heavy handed use of it as a writing technique. I can't say that I'm able to achieve their writing style but I can certainly try.
Anywho, Happy New Years, and god bless!

In the Marines and Abroad


I set my gun down. It was hot. Very hot. We had all just done our exercise routine for the morning, and I noticed that Brad was limping a bit, which wasn’t unusual. Brad had a mild genetic disorder that made his muscles prone to pulls and tears, and I often offered to massage his strains with Tiger Balm in the seclusion of our platoon’s tent. Today was no exception.

“Can I help you rub that out?” I asked walking by him

“Ah, yeah, sure Russ, thanks.” Brad was a man of few words and he was also absolutely gorgeous – just the right height, total smooth tan body, muscled but not overbuilt. And he had the most riveting green eyes, which set off his brown hair perfectly. The reality was I wanted to get my hands on him as much as possible. My crush for him knew no restraint.

I reached our tent first and went over to my bunk to retrieve the liniment. Brad meanwhile had come in and stripped off his combat boots and his camo’s and lay down in his bunk, waiting for me, wearing only his tight olive colored briefs. God I loved the sight. I came over and sat down at the end of his bed and let him rest his feet on my lap.

“Where does it hurt?” I asked, trying my best to focus on the job and not look at his huge bulge. Not until he closed his eyes, that is. Then it was a free game.

“Ah, it’s the right calf this time. Twinges a bit. Thanks,” he replied. He closed his eyes, knowing that my brief time I spent as a physical therapist (before I joined the army) left him in my capable hands, and he relaxed.

I unscrewed the bottle and using three fingers I ladled out a big glob of balm, then I gently applied it to his calf, rubbing it slowly and gently, both from side to side and from top to bottom. I sneaked a peak at his package. I could clearly see the outline of his two balls and what I suspected to be the tip of his dick. Oh, how I’d love to rub THOSE out. Since no one else was in the tent, I just continued to stare at his goods while I gentle massaged his leg. And then two odd things happened, I very clearly saw his dick twitch and I felt his left foot, which was in my lap, gently rub my crotch. Had he seen me looking? My eyes flicked up to his face, but because it was hidden in so much shadow from the bunk above I couldn’t really tell if they were fully closed. So, I just kept massaging. And there it was again, his left foot was slowly, deliberately rubbing my crotch!

No. It couldn’t be on purpose. I never got the impression Brad was anything but straight. But hey, I’m not knocking getting a little, so I let him rub my junk while I rubbed his leg looking at his junk. After a while he let out a big sigh, clearly opened his eyes and said, “Great. Thanks. It feels much better. Thanks Russ.” He stretched his sexy body – his muscular legs flexed, his abs rippled, and his pecs heaved. I was mesmerized. Then he swiveled to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m going to get some grub. See ya.”

Three nights later we were both on the same cleaning detail, both cleaning the lavatories. On our hands and knees wearing only boxer shorts, we scrubbed and scrubbed, our dogtags clinking from our exertions. It was about midnight, and as we worked from the outside row latrines to the inner ones we ended up right next to each other with only a partial stall wall separating us at elbow level. I started scrubbing around the base of the toilet and then outwards until . . .  our elbows touched. He’s left handed, I’m right, and we were doing the same thing. Our arms rubbed a while then I scooched forward a little to clean more around the back of the latrine and to my surprise his arm found my arm again. I was beginning to think it was on purpose. So, when he finally moved back, I slowly moved back too and found his arm again. It didn’t pull away. We were both scrubbing the same area of floor for a long while. Then, to my surprise his hand stopped scrubbing and reached over and clasped my hand. He just gently curled his fingers around mine and then interlaced them with mine. And we shared a moment. A real moment. My heart was beating a mile a minute and I found that I’d stopped breathing – just staring at our two hands intertwined. Then . . . it was gone and he said out loud, “I’m all done, see you at the tent.”

Nothing else happened for a week, and then . . . he and I were driving a hummer about 15 miles on a transport mission, taking ammo to our forward command center when our engine died on us. Just died. The truck sputtered and coughed itself to a stop and then just stood still. Brad and I just sat there for moment in total silence, trying to absorb the impact of this situation. Then, he spoke.

“Well, I guess we need to call for help over the radio.”

“I’ll do it,” I said (he was driving). I picked up the mic and tuned the scanner. “This is truck #13 calling base. We’ve got engine trouble. I repeat we have engine trouble. We’re stuck. Over.”

There was moment of silence, then the reply came, “This is command base, over. We have your position on GPS. We’ll send someone out in about an hour, the sand is blowing too hard for us to get through right away. ETA one hour, over.”

“Rodger that,” I said, and turned the radio off. There was nothing else to do and no help for it. We were stuck, and the sand was indeed blowing hard. It was getting cloudier by the minute.

“Well,” I said, “We have an hour to kill and I didn’t bring any CD’s. And this country doesn’t have any radio stations that I know of.” I looked over at him, wondering what he was thinking about. He was just staring straight forward, obviously deep in thought, his arms straight as he gripped the still wheel. We sat in silence for a minute or two, then he said, “Well, it looks like we’re stuck here for a while, so . . . “ then I felt strong hand grab a hold of my shirt front, and Brad pulled me into a kiss. A kiss. Oh my god! I was shitting myself. And it was a real kiss, too. Deep and long. My hands went all clammy and I stopped breathing. His tongue pried my lips apart, then slipped past my teeth to start dancing with my tongue, gently probing and darting here and there. My icy skin began to warm, though, as my brain finally processed what was happening and I began to respond appropriately to the situation. My hands went to cup the back of his head and I began to kiss him back. We tongue wrestled for a while, each trying to figure out the other’s kissing style and pace. I’ve always found different guys kiss differently. Some chewed, some thrust, some breathed into you. But Brad was a licker. He liked to gently lick my lips with the top of his and then dart his tongue into and out of my mouth, and I let him. Boy did I let him. His hands were busy too. At first they stayed clutched to my shirt, pulling me in, but then that relaxed and he started unbuttoning my shirt. When it opened, his hands began to explore my naked torso. One hand quested to my back and my butt, while the other pinched a nipple and explored my pits. Our pace became every more frenzied as it went on. Sex wasn’t allowed on base nor was there enough privacy to have a good wank or look at porn. There was always someone around, watching. So neither of us had nutted in weeks and all our sexual urges were bursting out of us in this one safe hour.

“You’ve got the best ass in the whole company,” he whispered in my ear as he switched from licking my lips to nibbling my ear.

“I know,” I whispered back with a small grin. He chuckled quietly.

We licked, we kissed, we pulled each other close, but I was the first one to go for the groin. I stopped cupping his head, and reached down to rub his crotch. What I felt astonished me. Like most men, he was small when soft, and that’s what I got to view occasionally in the showers, but erect he was at least 8 inches, maybe 8.5 and thick. It was fucking HAWT. He was rock-hard, and I could feel the thing pulse through his pants. He was really really aroused. I was too, so everything was proceeding as it should. He returned the favor and rubbed my crotch. Soon we were grinding each other’s crotches into each other’s hands. As horny as I was I could have creamed right then and there, but I so wanted to wrap at least my hand, if not my mouth, around his tool. The tool that I’d admired for so long. Had dreams about. Jacked off to thoughts of (on the few opportunities I had to do so). I yearned, I ached to get my hands on his meat, and apparently he felt the same way because the fingers of his left hand were fumbling for my zipper while his right hand explored my bubble butt. So, I returned the favored and did my best to release his monster.

Our cocks popped out at about the same time, and he was the first to go down, on me. His wet, warm lips slipped over the head of my cock, a slightly less impressive 7.5 inches, and he sucked in its length, while I grasped his pole and began to stroke, though his leaning body made that slightly difficult. From his technique, I guessed he’d only had cursory practice at sucking cock, but to me that was a challenge not a problem. I could train him up in the months to come. Our deployment was for a whole ‘nother year. Still, any blowjob was better than none, and his mouth was warm and wet. What more could a man ask for? But I pulled him off my cock before I could shoot, as I didn’t want to cum yet. I pulled his head up for another kissing session, where I could taste my own precum on his lips while I stroked his cock and rubbed the underside of his dick-head.

After a while I went down on him, and oh, was it heaven. While he moaned, I sucked hard on his dick. It had a wonderful shape, a lovely head, and just the right girth, but strangely there was no precum. ‘Maybe he doesn’t have precum,’ I thought to myself as I sucked and pistoned on his pole. He was groaning and moaning, I was worshiping his cock. His big, wonderful cock. I also noted his crotch smell, which I really liked. Some guy’s had strong smells, others no smell at all. His was just right, slightly tangy, slightly musky, and nicely sweet. I sucked and sucked but still I tasted no cum, and if there was one flavor I knew intimately it was taste of cum.

Suddenly he pulled me off, and while I watched he undid his belt and button, and pulled down his pants, letting his whole package hang out. Then he pulled me by the back of the neck back down on his cock, but he said, “Punch my balls, Russ.” I disengaged and looked up at him, him looking down at me with a fervent face.

“What?” I said.

“I can’t cum unless I have nut pain. Punch my fucking nuts, I’m so close!”

‘OK’ I thought to myself. ‘Everybody’s different, I guess.’ Balling my hand into a fist, I slammed my fist into his balls, and proceeded to suck him off. It caused a loud SLAP SLAP SLAP sound in my right ear as I did my best to get him to cum in my mouth, and I was SO ready for it.

“Harder, harder,” he moaned. So I did, I smacked his nuts as hard as I could, and I could feel them both tighten up, and swell up. The head of his dick swelled in the back of my throat and I knew he was close. I was stroking myself as well, and that was OK by me. I could get myself off, and IF we were in the beginning of a relationship, I could tell I would be pleasing him more than him pleasing me. But that was fine. I was usually the submissive one anyway. I was used to it.

“oh, Oh, OH,” he yelled as his bruised nuts tightened and his hot seed gushed down my throat and I mean GUSHED. It was at least seven separate spurts and it was blood hot and frothy as heck. I slowed down on the punching, but despite being in the throws of orgasm he yelled, “Don’t stop punching!” So I kept pounding his puds.

“Shit!” he yelled, and would you believe it he came AGAIN. Three more heavy spurts of cum, coating my vocal cords. I nearly choked. “Squeeze them, squeeze my fucking nuts,” he moaned, his chest heaving. “nnnnggg,” he said as I did what he wanted. With my free right hand I tried to squeeze his whole scrotum, while I slowly sucked on his deflating cock. As I pressed my thumb into first one ball, then the other my own moment was coming, and I felt myself spurt onto the truck seat. Oh, so good. It wasn’t just the sex or him, but it was the release of weeks of tension from not getting to bust a nut when I felt like it. My whole body felt like it was floating on quicksilver as I relaxed into an ocean of bliss.

At this point he pulled my head up to his with both hands, and kissed me deeply, profoundly. I was still stroking myself as the last dribbles of my batter came out, and squeezing his nuts with the other. Brad was still breathing heavily, and there we were, both half naked, covered with sex sweat and smelling of jizz in the middle of a sandstorm, in the middle of the nowhere of a bumfuck country. A small island of bliss in the middle of a huge war zone.

We were rescued, of course, but not before we had time to cuddle.

“Does this mean we’re ‘shipped?” I asked as he held me, lightly, after we’d cleaned up the mess I made and redressed.

Brad chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we are. There’s no one in the ‘toon who’s as hot as you and certainly no one else I feel anything for.”

“You feel something for me?” I asked in surprise, partially turning to face him.

“Yeah, Of course.” he said, sounding amused by my surprise. “You’re gentle. You’re kind. You’re giving. Why wouldn’t I like you? There’s so much to like.”

“Heh. Thanks, I like you too,” I said, turning back, resting again on his chest. “I’ve liked you ever since we got here. But you were always so remote, I didn’t think you had any interest.”

“Well, you know, with all the guys watching. I mean I know it’s OK to be out in the service now, but I haven’t been with many guys, and I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

“So you like girls too?” I asked, gently rubbing his hand with mine.

“Oh, you know, a little of this, a little of that. But yeah. I had a wife for a while, but she didn’t like causing me pain during sex, so it didn’t work out, in the end.”

“Ah, I was wondering about that. What’s with the nut pain thing?” I asked.

He kissed and lightly ran his tongue over my ear before responding. I couldn't help but moan a little, since my little ears are so sensitive. I swiveled my head a little so I could kiss his soft lips. When we parted, he continued.

“Well I had three older brothers and they liked to get me in the balls all the time, and the middle one, Gabe, used to squeeze my nuts while I watched him masturbate. I suppose he was my first male crush. I found his flying fist and his flying spunk hypnotizing. So, when I hit puberty, I always associated sex with ball busting, and I learned to punch my own nuts when I jacked off. Now, well, I just can’t help it. I can’t get off without my testicles shooting with pain, and I need someone who can understand that.”

“Oh my god,” I said, remembering something, “was that that slapping sound I heard when you and I were in the same shower cluster a couple of months ago?”

“Probably. I can’t get off without it, like I said.”

“Hmm, well, do you like getting hit in the nuts even when you’re not having sex?” I asked slyly.

“Sure. Why? You want to sack tap me all the time now?”

“Yeah,” I said, “Yeah, I do,” smiling at his reflection in the rear view mirror. “Everyone loves a good nut shot.”

“OK. It will be our little thing. Get me whenever you like but I warn you, I’ll probably get hard each time you do. Both because of the tap, and because it’s you doing it. My little sex gremlin.”

I laughed a little and gazed into his intensely clear, green eyes (in reflection). I turned around and licked his lips and up to the tip of his nose. “I like you too,” I said, and gave his nuts a playful squeeze through the fabric of his pants. “I like you a lot.” We rubbed noses and then heard the relief vehicle pull up. We slid apart. Our secret sex-life relationship had now begun.



Friday, December 27, 2013

Grist for the mill.

So, earlier in the month I commented on Tom Daley's coming out as nothing-in-particular and did a post on the question of labels.

Here's two articles I found online that address the same issues:


Bisexuals by Dan Savage

What's most interesting to me isn't even the articles but rather the comments section in Dan Savage's post where actual real life bisexuals present their own points of view on bisexuality, visibility and the hardships of being bisexual.



Thursday, December 26, 2013

Target Practice - The Final Session (groupF/groupm) - NEW

OK folks, here it is, the long awaited final chapter of the Target Practice series. Hope it fulfills its promise and entertains you. And I wish you all a very merry after Christmas and a wonderful New Year!



ps. Don't forget to comment!

Target Practice – The Final Session

The last three weeks of sessions for the class had been focused on combining technique and endurance, and the girls had no additional men offer up their manhoods for them to practice on. Instead they had been forced back to using dummies, although Pat had made sure that the mannequins possessed realistic eggs which would rupture after several direct hits, and need to be replaced.

So it was that on the last day of class, which would be a test of each woman’s performance, that they entered the dance studio and were confronted with the surprise of not only Pat, but seven young men, one for each of them, to demonstrate their proficiency and skills on. All the men looked to be about 18 and were hunky and handsome. They were all padded up and each seemed eager to be a punching bag for their women. They did appear to be wearing cups, but that wasn’t surprising – after all, how could they expect boys hired by Pat for one day be willingly castrated?

Pat, however, was smiling deeply. As always she led the women in the warm up session, doing stretches, some yoga and some Pilates, and then she paired off each woman with one young man. All the pairings spread out in the room.

“Today is your final day. I want you all to show me what you’ve learned. And what you should have learned is focus, power, confidence and precision. For the next hour I will walk among you and assess your performance. Alight? Begin!” The room became filled with the sounds of kicks, hits, slaps and stomps. The women went all out, hitting, kicking, screaming kai yells, and punching their volunteer victims. The well padded boys absorbed the kinetic energy of the women, and this went on for some time. Pat walked around with a clipboard and took notes, scoring the technique she saw. Most of the women did very well, incorporating strength with perfect maneuvers designed to incapacitate a would-be male attacker. There was only one thing missing: the realistic reactions of a guy when his balls were getting pasted. Not to worry, Pat was going to take care of that.

“OK girls, I think that’s enough to judge your accuracy and proficiency. Let’s take a break and then I’ll tell you the good news.” All the women made for the back of the room where their water bottles were and all the young men clustered around Pat for a while. Soon it was time to reconvene and Pat addressed the women.

“So ladies, as difficult to believe as it is, all these young men are offering up their nuts for you to destroy today. They’re all teen sex offenders and in return for their castration, they get to go on parole. So today’s your lucky day, each one of you gets a pair of nuts to turn into jelly. How about that?” she asked her cadre of testicle busting women. The cadre of women instantly turned into a gaggle of little girls, squealing with delight at the thought of busting these hot, evil teens. All the males had been covering their groins with their mitted hands, now they removed them to reveal seven sets of naked cock and balls - ready, open and willing to be busted.

The ever enthusiastic Cynthia immediately led her young man by the hand and took him to the corner of the room. She told him to close his eyes and spread his legs. Then she proceeded to knee him in the nuts as hard as she could. One, two, three, four, FIVE knees before he slid to the floor and couldn’t take any more.

Little Kazumi took her African-American teen by the hand and politely led him to her spot on the floor, and then she asked him to bend over, which he did. Then she took his ball sack by the hand and began to squeeze the delicate glands together and grate them. Harder and harder she squeezed his package until his nut meat was bulging out in the spaces between her fingers. Soon the teen was whimpering in submission and she let him drop to the floor as well.

Angela, the blond, dragged her equally blond victim to the center of the room and told him to grab her like a real attacker would, and then when he had her in his grasp, she slammed her fist between his legs, nailing his nuts and perineum and then used a claw hold to squeeze his family jewels together. She hit him again, followed by attacking his dick with her fingernails, impaling the flaccid organ and leaving deep welts. The boy groaned into the back of her head while he tried to maintain his hold on her, but she was determined. She grabbed just one of his nuts and squeezed it, digging her nails into it. The organ held its shape but the boy cried out and let go. Angela then pivoted and brought her knee up into his groin while pulling down on his shoulders to drive his nuts and her knee together. Like a nut sandwich. SLAM SLAM SLAM. She held him close as she pile drived his testicles without mercy or pity. It wasn’t long before his eyes rolled back and he passed out, falling to the floor in a big heap. Men, so weak and wimpy . . .

Diane, the virginal redhead, was actively engaged with her handsome latino boy, his buttery tan skin and shaved head shining with sweat as she made him stand still while she kicked his dangling huevos from various angles. He kept trying to block the kicks to his delicate swinging knackers, but she kept circling him and getting him just when he thought she’d finished. WHAM WHAM WHAM. The browned eyed boy did his best to not squeeze his legs together but it wasn’t long before his hands wrapped around his ball sack and he sagged down to his knees, coughing and holding himself. Like the other boys in the room, the intensity of the women’s attacks was more than his brain could process. It hurt so bad. But Diane had now learned to be ruthless with men. She’d grown up. She grabbed a terry cloth towel from the pile near the door and tied her boy’s hands behind his back. Then with one hand she placed a finger under his chin and lifted his head until their eyes met. Then she kicked him as hard as she could between the legs. His stomach was filled with gut wrenching pain, and she loved looking into his eyes to see them reflect the pain as she kicked him repeatedly until he fell over and seemed to be in a state of shock. She then lifted one of his legs by the ankle and continued to kick his testicles, now lolling on his other leg. They were so soft and inviting, she just couldn’t help herself and he was helpless to stop her.

The two remaining women were watching the other pairs to see what to do, and then they grabbed their own boys. Beatrice got the tallest teen, a tall muscled boy with black hair, and Crystal got the shortest most compact boy, who had the body of a gymnast. Beatrice wanted to toy with her boy-toy for a while. She tied his hands behind him like Diane did, then she began to slap his hanging, dangling balls, just to see him jerk and shudder with each hit, while Crystal took her boy to the remaining space in the studio’s space and did the most cruel thing she could think of. She had him stand there, while she knelt in front of him, and after smiling up at him, she leaned forward and sucked one of his balls into her mouth and began to squeeze it between her molars. The boy began to whine like a kicked puppy.

Pat watched all of this with grim satisfaction. She knew her women would forever dominate the men in their lives, which was exactly the attitude she’d hoped she’d instilled in them. That women were on top instead of those egotistical paternal sexualistic hypocritical beasts called men. She knew they’d approach men forever more as the dominate sex rather than the submissive sex, and that any male who dared attack her students was in for a rude surprise.

Clapping her hand, Pat called a halt to the ball busting festivities, and spoke to them all. Diane let the leg she was holding drop and Crystal let the teen’s swollen left testicle plop out of her mouth.

“Now that you’ve become acquainted with your boy’s balls, it’s now time to practice your final maneuvers together. Come get some rope and we’ll string each of them up so we can have our way with them. It’s the natural instinct of a male to protect his eggs, and we’ve practiced our incapacitating maneuvers on them, now it’s time to have fun and just let loose.”

The women enthusiastically grabbed rope and got their boys up and tied to the ceiling through eye hooks which Pat had installed in previous classes.

“Now remember that women’s self defense class is really 100 different ways to rip the nuts off a guy. So let’s see if any of you can really rip their nuts off. Grasp your boy’s nutsack in your hand, and twist and squeeze it has hard as you can.” Seven sets of balls were twisted and squeezed and each boy howled in pain. Their groins jerked and were pulled forward by the women’s hands, forearms straining with the bags of flesh in their hands trying to mangle and mutilate them. However, none of them could actually rip the scrotums off the boys. But they sure caused the testicles in their hands to swell and the scrotal flesh to become an angry red hue.

“Well, it was worth a try. Now let’s get some slaps in. Start by tapping their ballbag rhythmically, lightly, then increase the power of each stroke.” The women stepped in front of their respective boy and lightly tapped his sack, then gradually increased their swings until they were really swatting the boy’s ball sacks. SLAP SLAP SLAP. The boys were all squirming and making strangled cries of pain. Oh, it was so delicious. SLAP SLAP SLAP. They kept up the momentum of their swings until some of the boys were literally crying. But male tears had no power over these women who now truly knew a man’s place. On his knees, begging for the safety of his manhood.

“Excellent. Now let’s get some punches in. Start with straight shots to their balls. I want to see sacks swinging. Then we’ll move on to uppercuts.” All the women dropped to one knee and did straight punches to their boy’s unprotected nads. SMACK. Right, left, right, left. Excited punches to their nuts and their sacks did indeed swing back and forth, slapping up against their asses and then back again. The women all felt like professional boxers, taking shots at the punching bag. Hard knuckles against boy bubble flesh. SMACK SMACK SMACK. Then, taking a cue from Pat, they stood up and started their uppercuts into their boy’s balls. Again it was right, left, right, left. Their weeks working on dummies had given them the stamina to punch, kick and hit for long stretches at a time and they were now skilled enough to really damage delicate boy eggs. Most of the boy’s balls had swollen almost to the bursting point, and their scrotums were puffy and red.

“Perfect. Now let’s begin to soften up their eggs for their final cracking. Swift knees to their nuts should do the trick.” Soon the room was filled with the sound of women’s hard sexy knees flying into unprotected man sacks. Some of the boys were just drooling at this point, others were barely conscious, but what really mattered was the fun the women were having, not the agony of the males, so Pat just smiled to herself. Bursting balls was so fun!

“Harder, ladies! I want to really hear those testicles of theirs begin to crack! Harder!” SMACK SMACK SMACK. Naked knees to naked nuts. Over and over. One boy began to gurgle in the back of his throat as he thrashed weakly around. His eyes were rolling in their sockets and his balls were rolling around in their sack, each trying to escape the freight train beating they were receiving.

“Ok. Ok. Give the boy’s a short break and take ten.” Seven boys hung limply, hardly able to believe they were being given a short respite from their cruel mistreatment. The women were all sweating and warm, so they stretched, sucked down water and chewed on homemade granola. Most of them were in the preliminary stages of sexual excitement, and their panties and tights were becoming soaked, but none of them seemed the least bit shy or concerned about it. It was only natural to be turned on by nutting a guy, especially young bucks who were handsome and virile.

“Alright, we’re in the home stretch. It’s now time to bust these balls wide open, and let their insides see the light of day. You each get to choose how you want to destroy their manhood’s, but you each have to do it in a different way. So, let’s begin. Kazumi, you go first.”

The little Japanese woman, who had been practicing her squeezing techniques on plums and cherry’s and other small stone fruits, took her black boy’s stones, one in each hand, and began to squeeze them, pressing her thumbs into their hearts. Harder and harder she squeezed. She was holding her breath from effort. Deeper and deeper her thumbs went. She was really trying to squeeze the tubing out of his balls. “Here it comes,” she yelled finally, and with a grunt of exertion on her part, his fat black balls popped in her hands. Instead of being resilient organs for making sperm, they were now a squishy mass of mush, which she squeezed around in her hands. All of the women came when the testicles popped and Cynthia even fell to her knees from the force of her orgasm. It was just that sexually fulfilling to burst balls.

“Whew, that was hot! You did that very well, Kazumi. OK, now, it’s Diane’s turn. Let’s see if we can’t get off for a second time.” Diane smiled. She was gonna punch her latino stud’s nuts into oblivion. She rolled up her sleeves, positioned herself in front of the boy and began blasting away at his crotch. WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM. Brutal blasts to balls. She kept up the momentum just as they all had earlier, but now she was well and truly trying to ruin her handsome latino boy. His testicles expanded and expanded, filling up the scrotum completely, which was now a shiny, tight bag of tan flesh. And just when her pounding reached a crescendo the two bloated orbs exploded in the sack with a slick, sick SPLAT, loud enough to be heard all the way to where Pat was supervising. It was another magical orgasm for each woman, each reveling in the wonderful cruelty that it was to castrate these young sex offenders.

Now it was Cynthia’s turn. Her brown haired boy of about 16 was already half out of it, but she roused him with her first kick. It was from behind, her foot arching up towards his asscrack and then slamming into his nutsack. He howled and cried out. She slammed her foot into his nuts over and over, faster and faster, harder and harder. She was going to kick his nuts into mush, without giving them any time to even swell. They were just going to be pummeled into mush. WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM. She was laying into his nuts like there was no tomorrow. As she kicked she felt first his one nut give out, then the other, but she didn’t slow down her kicking even the slightest. She just yelled, “There goes one!” and “There goes the other! He’s an ‘it’ now!”. The women were watching and rubbing themselves shamelessly at the brutal ballbusting scene carried on. “I’m kicking mush girls. His balls are pulped!” When she finally did finish her assault on his ballbag, there really was just jelly-like goo filling his bloated scrotum which was almost the size of a grapefruit. She squished it around with her fingers, feeling very self-satisfied that she’d managed to ruin her boy faster and more efficiently than anyone else had, so far.

“Ok. It’s now the two blond’s turn. Angela, show us what you can do!”

Angela lowered her blond boys’ body until his butt was on the floor, then used extra rope to tie his legs off so he couldn’t move them. His testicles were now flush with the hard wooden floor. Clearly she was going to step on them until they popped. Angela slipped off her Reeboks so that she was just in her fuzzy white socks and she stepped up to his nuts and then onto them. As swollen as they were they had very little ability to slip out from under her, and she pressed her heels into the fat orbs. She whispered to him as she squashed his nuts. “What’s your name boy?”

The blond boy who was drooling and virtually comatose gurgled, “Eegan” and then mumbled some incoherent words which no one else caught. Angela pressed her heels into the testicles more and more, making nutflesh squeeze out in all directions. The pressure on his balls was mounting and Angela’s fuzzy socked feet were rolling around on his nuts. At just the right moment first one ball popped, “POP” and then the other “POP”, and his scrotum went slack as the pressure dispersed. He was now a eunuch with no more incentive to abuse women than a puppy. Or at least one could hope.

“OK Crystal! You’re up.”

The Brooke Shields-like woman with wavey brown hair smiled and walked over to her gymnast boy. She was going to finish what she had started. She kneeled and gently cupped his two testicles, then brought them up to her mouth. She sucked both of the glands into her mouth and positioned the swollen organs between her teeth. And then, she began chewing his nuts into goo. CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP. He balls squished around in her mouth, and she could feel the organs puff up in her mouth, and then they just sort of exploded in her mouth, like ripe cherry’s bursting. Naturally she kept chewing, making sure there were no lumps left in her mouth. All the sound was absorbed by her mouth, but everyone could tell by the boy’s scream that she’d burst his balls with her molars. It was more orgasms for all around. They all had a feel of his mushy bag once Crystal had bitten through his cords and then spit out his scrotum. The moist bag was limp and deflated. Like two water balloons that had just burst.

And now, finally, it was Beatrice’s turn. She had to find some way of destroying her tall dark haired boy’s nuts that was unique. And she had an idea. She ran out to her car and popped the trunk and got a bicycle pump with a sharp needle attachment at the other end. She ran back inside. She ran up to her boy and jammed the needle right into his left testicle and then began to pump away. Puff, puff, puff, the testicle expanded with the air being pumped into it. Puff, puff, puff. Now the thing was three times its normal size and looked like an apple ready to burst. Puff, puff, puff  . . . . . POP. The huge nut burst audibly. Then there was the sound of leaking air as the nut deflated, sort of like a dying bicycle tire. On to the next and last ball of the day. STAB, puff, puff, puff, and three minutes later it too burst with an explosion of pressurized air. And that was that. All the boys had been dealt with, all the women had recovered from multiple orgasms, and Pat happily congratulated everyone and handed out certificates of completion. It was a good day all around, and everyone wished Pat on her next set of classes – that she’d find more boys and guys to sacrifice their balls!

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Labels (a conversation starter)

This week young Tom Daley (Olympic diver) told the whole world, via Youtube, that he was in a relationship with a man, whom we believe to be Dustin Lance Black, the movie writer. In his Youtube video, Tom didn't say that he was Bisexual or Gay. He just said he was in a relationship with another guy. And in a yet-to-be-released interview, Tom has explicitly said he doesn't want to be labeled, which is why he came out in a self filmed Youtube vid, so that he could control the content. He says that he "still fancies girls" but he doesn't want to be labeled.
In the last two days, I have now publicly argued with THREE different notable internet people about this subject (on Twitter, Facebook and Youtube), and I wanted to use this space to open a dialogue about the issue of labels, specifically gay, straight and bisexual.
In my 38 years of life I have come up against the argument many times that, "We're all just people. We're all a little bit bisexual (or gay or straight) aren't we? We shouldn't have labels, we should all just be people and LOVE." And do you know who it is, each time, who has said this to me? People who like both men and women. In other words, bisexuals. I count nine times I have heard this argument in social situations, and I have to say I'm a little tired of it. I am gay and proud of it. Period. End of story. I like guys. If you were to ask most straight people I guarantee you they would say, "Yes, I'm straight. And proud of it." It's a no brainer. But the bisexuals? They like the idea of "no labels". And what I question is the motivation for this.
IF the motivation is that bisexuality is too limited a term, and doesn't even begin to describe the full reality of liking both men and women, then I suggest we change the labeling system and make it work. The Kinsey scale might work much better, and be more accurate. People could point to whatever number on the Kinsey scale they are and say, "That's me, I'm a number 5". End of discussion. Done. And people could accurately assess where they fell along the spectrum of fully straight to fully gay. The three labels of gay, straight and bisexual may simple be too narrow a set of terms to describe the panoply of human sexuality.
But IF the issue is that bisexual people just don't want to come out, or because they don't want to open themselves up to the same potential danger that coming out as gay has, then I say this whole "no labels" thing is about fear and internalized homophobia. AND it does a disservice to people who do come out as bi, because it makes them seem like fools for buying into this whole "labeling thing".
Labels, themselves, are merely points of reference, and in the LGBT community they're important because it sets expectations. If you come out as gay to your family you're really telling them, "Don't expect me to bring an opposite sex partner to Christmas dinner. Don't expect for me to necessarily have 2.3 children and 3.2 dogs, and a house with a white picket fence, or want to watch football with you every Sunday." You're giving your loved ones realistic expectations, in a general sense, about what and who you are. Similarly, if you're straight, people probably expect certain things from you, which you may or may not be comfortable with, but which never the less apply. You'll have opposite sexed partners, you might get married, you might have kids, and you might actually like to watch guys in teams hurt each other while they throw a ball around a field.
But the consensus with bisexuals *appears to be that they don't even like to be called that. They don't want any labels to apply to them. They're above and beyond such crude tools of discernment. And I'm just not buying it. Is there something wrong with being bisexual? Is it bad? Is it inherently evil or something? I'm gay and proud of it, why can't bisexuals be bi and proud? I just don't get it.
So what do you all think? Do you buy into the idea that we're ALL a little bi and therefore shouldn't have any kind of way of identifying with certain groups? Do you think we should just all be sexual and leave it at that? I'd welcome your views and opinions.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Jack and Jill (F/M) - NEW

Well, this story was really not planned, it just sort of came to me one day. Like a bolt from the sky. Anywho, I'm pretty sure it will be my offering for December, although I'll *try to get something done for Christmas.

I've been looking through my private stack of stories that I keep, and I found one of FarmboyKY's stories, started reading it, and . . . . low and behold it bares a striking resemblance to this story! So I now have to thank Farmboy and give him credit as the inspiration for this story. It's an homage (apparently)! Follow the link in my links section to see all his great work.

At any rate, enjoy!


Jack and Jill

Jack and Jill had been dating for about four months. They’d met on a dating website and discovered they had much in common – from rollerblading to wind surfing to fine dining to horseback riding. Both were in their mid-twenties, physically fit, good looking and active. They both lived near each other, in LA, and started spending a lot of time together. Jack was a professional gymnast with a tight and smooth body while Jill did yoga, running, Pilates and dancing regularly to keep fit.

Their physical intimacy had started off as polite kisses, then some heavy snogging, and then finally in their third month, actual intercourse.  It was better than they’d both expected. He was tender and solicitous, making sure Jill came before he did, and Jill for her part was energetic and creative, unlike some women who just lay there like a wet doll and let it all happen to them.

Tonight was a night of passion. After a romantic dinner at an Italian bistro, the two lovebirds were hard at it, on the bed. Jack was pounding from behind, Jill on all fours, the globes of her breasts jiggling in free air. Jill thought she felt Jack start to flip her over, and she rolled on her back, knees up. Jack went to thrust and found a huge kneecap imbedding itself into his left nut.

“OOf” went Jack, and off the bed he fell as he clutched his groin, CRASH, as he landed on the floor.

“Oh my god!” said Jill, peeping over the edge of the bed as her boyfriend groaned. “I’m so sorry,” she said. Then, in explicably Jill started to giggle. She suddenly understood what had happened and found the whole thing quite amusing. “You alright?” she asked with a smirk.

*groan. *cough. “I’m OK. I don’t usually go down so hard, I just wasn’t prepared for it.”

“Go down? You mean you’ve taken it in the nuts before?”

“Shit yeah. All my cousins, sisters, brothers and friends nut me. It’s like a game, but it hurts most if I’m not prepared.”

“That’s completely bizarre. Do you . . . like getting hit there?”

“Actually I do. My friend Liz calls it ‘my little fetish’. And she’d be the first to tell you how many kicks or hits or slaps I can take the groin. I think my record is sixty-three.”

“Jeezus!” exclaimed Jill. “Aren’t you afraid of becoming sterile?”

“Not really. I had a bout with cancer as a teen, and they froze a bunch of my semen, so I’ve got backup. Speaking of back up . . .” Jack rose to his feet. Jill could see his hanging sack silhouetted against the open window and still erect penis bobbing in the air.

“Shall we continue?” he said as he slid on top of her and into her as they continued their lovemaking. Later as they basked in the musky sweet glow of coitus, Jack whispered into Jill’s delicate ear, “Did you like it?”

“Of course,” came the reply as she nuzzled his neck.

“What part was best?”

“Nailing you in the nuts,” she giggled.


“Yeah, it made me wet when I realized what I’d done. Concerned of course, but a little aroused.”

Jack held her tight. “That happens to most of the people who rack me. When I was young my brothers would knee them before going off to masturbate. They said it was better than any porn mag. I once had an angry teacher kick me in the nuts for playing a prank in class, and it got her so hot and bothered that she gave me detention every day for month so she could kick my balls in private, after school hours. I would just come in, face the chalkboard, drop my pants, pull down my tighty whiteys and spread ‘em wide. She’d walk up behind me in her high heeled shoes and then WHAM WHAM WHAM, full on punts to my swaying nads. After a week of it, my balls had doubled in size due to swelling.”

“Oh my god! That’s abuse Jack.”

“Naw, I got off on it too. I’d come home with the biggest woody and spray my jizz all over the bathroom. With all the abuse they’ve seen over the years, they’ve toughened up quite a bit. I’ve got ‘nuts of steel’.”

“Oh really?” Jill repositioned her head so she could look into his eyes. “Well, then, how about you start spreading those gymnast legs for me all the time. Maybe I can bust one or two of them, you know how competitive I am and I do so love a good challenge.”

Jack kissed her. “I might just be up for that.” Jill reached between his legs and took both his bulbous glands in one hand and began grating them together. Harder and harder until she made him moan. This would be fun.

The next morning, Jill woke up first and found Jack on his back snoring away. Jill slowly slid away the cover so that Jack was exposed, and then slowly stood up and stepped between his legs. Shifting to one foot, she aimed her right toes and pulled her leg back and then . . .  let go. WHAM A straight kick to his sleepy testicles. Another WHAM. Then another WHAM Jack was by now fully awake, his eyes wide, and his hands trying to block the kicks coming to his most sensitive body parts. But he was also laughing.

“Shit, woman. First thing in the morning? Now that’s what I call an alarm bell.”

Jill kicked away his hands and just ground her instep into the mass that was his male genitalia. “I’d love some breakfast boyfriend. How about some eggs and bacon. For both of us. And while you crack eggs, I’ll crack your eggs.”

Jack grinned. “OK sweetpea.”

Two minutes later they were in the kitchen, naked, with Jill standing behind her boyfriend’s marble bag. Some butter when into the pan, and there were four eggs layed out and a bowl to mix them in.

“Count with me, sweetheart,” said Jack as he readied to crack open the first one. *tap *tap CRACK CRUNCH  “oof” plop. One egg and one bust down. Next one up *tap *tap *tap CRACK WHAM, a warbling note of despair, *plop as the egg slid into the bowl. Then the third egg/testie and finally the fourth. Jack was sweating bullets but hadn’t collapsed. His balls certainly were stronger than your average guys. While he finished preparing breakfast, she cuddled him from behind, sneaking her hands to squeeze his boner or flick his balls. They sat down at the table, across from each other and while they eat, Jill put her feet on the opposite chair and massaged her arches against the bubbles that were Jack’s balls, rolling them this way and that. Pressing on them, squeezing them between her toes. And they both loved it!

At work that day, Jill secretly told her BFF Ann all about Jack’s love of ball busting.

“Wow. Milk it for all it’s worth. I was just reading in Miss magazine that you’re more likely to keep a guy if you humor his kinky sexual fantasies. Guys dig trashcan girls – clean on the outside, dirty on the inside. So tell me all about it.”

On the way home that night, Jill thought of all the scenarios where she could sneak in the good nut shots and ways of torturing his nads. She stopped by the hardware store to pick up a few things and then headed on home.

She opened the door and found Jack already home from work, in his sweatpants, and sleeping soundly while the TV played Game of Thrones. She quietly closed the door behind her and crept over to the couch. Underneath the fabric of the sweatpants, she could see the outline of his two huge walnuts. Perfect! In one swift move, she pulled down his pants aimed her knee and did a death drop onto his right testicle. But she didn’t pull back, instead she ground her knee into the organ, catching it between her knee cap and his pubic bone. Jack woke up with a cry. Jill didn’t relent. She kept grinding and grinding the nugget until Jack was literally whimpering in submission. “I give, I give” he was mumbling weakly. Jill happily let Jack slide off the couch and onto the floor.

“Oh, it couldn’t have hurt too much. Your dick’s gone all hard again.” Jack opened his cupped hands protecting his groin and had to look to see that was true. And it was, indeed. His pecker had risen a full seven inches seemed happy to join the ball busting party. Nature truly worked miracles sometimes.

“I went and bought some hardware to warm your balls up to pain and torture.”

Jack just got up and said, “OK, let’s go.”

“During my coffee break I googled ball busting and testicle torture story sites, and found one writer’s stories. He had a really good idea to tie your beau up to something, and the wrap cord around his whole package and make a cradle of cloth that swings between the victim’s legs. Then you drop things into the cradle and stretch the man’s cock and balls further and further until the cords break and can no long retract into the safety of the abdomen. So we’re going to start that one right now. Come into the bedroom and stand spread eagle in front of the four poster bed.” Jack undressed the rest of the way while Jill got out the cords and then she tied off all four points of his body so that he was forced to stand, stock still, and completely helpless to his girlfriend’s wicked ways. “This should be fun,” she said.

“Oh look, your balls have tightened up. I need them loose,” noted Jill

“Hmmm. Knee me in the balls a few times, that should loosen them up,” said Jack

“Good idea,” she replied. Grabbing his hips, she brought herself close, then she looked deeply into his eyes and smiled. CRACK. Up came her hard knee into his vulnerable eggs. His eyes closed from the pain. She smiled again. CRACK CRACK CRACK. She could actually feel his testicle enlarge from the trauma she was inflicting. What strange and curious little organs they were. So she felt them. Yup, much looser.

“OK. I think that’s good.” She took her rope and tied it around the root of his cock and balls, and then wrapped each ball individually. She let the ends of the rope hang down. She tied on the cradle of cloth to both ends, and then pulled out three stainless steel ingots.

“I bought these because I wanted some serious weight to test the limits of your nuts.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Jack thoughtfully.

Jill dropped one ingot in. His package sagged. CLINK. She dropped a second in. His package sagged even more. His balls started to turn an angry red. She could see the veins in his sack stand out and his nuts seemed to squirm slightly, as if trying to escape the weight they carried. Finally she dropped the third ingot onto the pile. Now his strangled nuts started to turn purple.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“Mmmmm. It’s uncomfortable, but not actually painful. Why don’t you try . . . why don’t you try flicking them.”

“Good idea.” She squatted down in front of his crotch and began to flick first one ball, then the other. Jack started to squirm in his restraints. “Ah. Ah. Ah.” He said with each flick of her finger. Back and forth she went. She started to tap out the rhythm to her favorite current song, “Roar”, by Katy Perry. Flick flick flick flick flick flick FLICK flick flick FLICK flick flick FLICK FLICK flick flick FLICK flick. Jack made a weird mewling noise, like a tortured kitten. Eventually Jill stopped.

“I have an idea,” she said and ran into the kitchen. She returned with a lighter and some cigarettes. They were Jack’s. Jill lit one of the cigarettes. “I always thought men were overly proud of their pricks. Don’t know why, so few of them are big enough to actually give pleasure.” She took the cigarette and touched its smoldering tip to the head of his cock. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” was Jack’s response. She lifted it. Good. There was a red mark where the tip had cooked a little circle of flesh. Next she held the lighter under just one testicle, at first far from it, then gradually decreased the distance until his delicate scrotal flesh began to redden and blister a bit. “AAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhh. SHIT that hurts.”

“You’re right. I’m being cheesy. It’s not really nut pain. Just a little revenge on behalf of women everywhere.” Jill got up. “Well, I’ve got some yard work to do. See you later.” She kneed his bound, hanging testicles a few times causing the ingots to sway violently in their hammock. “I’ll be back in a while, and we’ll move on to the next item.”

Jack coughed. “OK.”

An hour and a half later Jill returned. Jack’s hanging balls were deep purple and stretched almost halfway to his knees.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asked him.

“Yes, most interesting. Never had my balls ripped out by the roots before. It’s a novel experience.”

“Does it hurt yet?”

“It’s made a nice ache in my lower abdomen.”

“Good. Let’s try the next thing.” She went to bag of tricks and pulled out a rubber mallet and a piece of wooden plank. She untied his balls and untied his legs. “Sit!” she ordered. He sat on the edge of the bed, and she tied his knees to the posts. Then she place the short piece of plank under his nut sack and began to whack his balls with the rubber mallet. WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK. The mallet bounced off his bubbles. An excellent physics experiment to observe the nature of actions and reactions, momentum, and the elasticity of the vulnerable organs known as testicles. Jack was turning red in the face from holding his breath. WHACK WHACK WHACK. The sound of her methodical hitting filled the room. True to form, though, his eggs didn’t crack, although they did seem to be swelling nicely. At this point they were the size of grade AAA eggs.

The one thing of importance that happened, though, was that despite the pain in his dick head, his dick became hard from the attention Jill was giving his nuts. Large and proud it rose out from his bush, pulsing happily. A white pearl of precum appeared in its slit, and the more she pounded his puds, the more the organs leaked their sticky-sweet contents. So she really laid into them, and in a few minutes his cock began to leak a huge waterfall of precum dribbles down its length. ‘Men’s equipment sure is dynamic,’ thought Jill. ‘Responsive too.’ But of course this was also for her pleasure, and she noticed her panties were becoming soaked with her own juices. ‘Mmmm. This is so much fun.’

Finally her WHACK WHACK WHACK pounding stopped, and she took the opportunity to roll his balls around like the toys they were. They were hot to the touch, swollen and pulsing slightly. And so . . . alive. Because then they WERE life really, in its proto form. Life in potentia. And they were still lying on the hard wood board. So she took a few potshots at them, slamming her fist down on his baby makers. Out poured more pre-jizz, and lots of moaning from Jack.

Jill got up off the floor. “Well, let’s see what else I’ve got in my bag of goodies,” she said.

His chest heaving, Jack panted slightly. “You’re sure good at this. You’re sure you’ve never done this before?” He was thankful for the brief respite, but looking forward to the next toy.

Jill walked over and took something out of the bag. Jack looked over. OH SHIT. It was a fucking NAIL GUN. Holy crap. She was seriously going to take his claim of having “nuts of steel” literally.

She noticed him looking. “No, don’t worry. I’m saving this for a special occasion. But let’s what it can do.” She pointed it at the wall and pulled the trigger. With a CaCHUNKG sound it shot out a nail which imbedded itself in the opposite wall THUNK! “I bet that would make quite an impression on your balls,” she said, stifling a giggle at the look of horror on his face.

“No, my last toy in here are these.” She pulled out two C clamps. One for each nut. She was gonna press the hell out of his two balls. She walked over to him, removed and tossed aside the wooden plank and kneeled between his legs. His droopy ballsack hung heavy before her and she began her work. Instead of doing the obvious, of pressing his testicle from side to side, instead she decided to press them from top to bottom. She balanced one testicle on the bottom of the clamp, and then twisted the device until the screw part touched the top of the ball. Then, with increasing difficulty, she twirled the handle, making it nice and snug and Jack had begun to sweat.

“Does it hurt?”

“Fuck yeah. Never had my nuts pressed before. It’s amazing.”

“Good. Time to do the other one.” She slipped his remaining ball in the remaining C clamp and twirled the handle. Down the press part went until that nut was snug too.

“Now,” she said, “I’ll flip a coin. If it’s heads I turn the left one, if it’s tails I turn the right one.” She reached into her pocket to get a quarter, and then flipped it. Heads! She gave the clamp on his left ball one full turn. It was difficult but not impossible to do. Then she flipped it again. Heads again. Another full turn. She flipped the coin. Tails! She screwed the clamp on his right ball.

This went on until she literally couldn’t screw the handle even a fraction of an inch more. His balls were bulging in the middle, and Jack was sweating bullets. His whole body was covered with a thin film, and his face and chest (and balls) were beet red both from the pain and the psychologically sexual stimulation they were producing. Jack had never had a girl friend take him up seriously on the offer to bust his balls, and Jill was doing a fantastic job. Jack’s dick bobbed happily, as if it were disassociated from all the pain, still hard and still oozing pre-jack.

“How’s it feel?”

“nnnnnggggggg. Oh my god. My balls, my balls.” He just kept repeating “My balls, my balls.”

“That bad, huh? Maybe I can make it worse.” She stayed kneeled in front of him, and began flicking his balls again. Because of their new shape, they made an odd “THUNK" sound. She kept this up until Jack started to yell, “ENOUGH, ENOUGH. I give, I give. Please.”

“Oh, all right. But I’m getting so wet from this though. I need some relief.” She dropped her pants, got up on the ledge of the bed, on leg on either side of Jack, and pressed her pussy to his face, forcing him to lick it while he writhed and moaned. But lick he did, anything to distract from the nut pain. Soon Jill was screaming in ecstasy and with both hands pressed his head into her crotch. He was drowning in cunt juice and could barely breathe. It was the hottest thing Jill had ever been party to. She could feel his tongue lapping at her labia and sending tingles through her body, and she loved how difficult it was for him to pay attention to her when his balls were being squashed. After about six minutes her whole body convulsed in an orgasm, and she rode it out on his face, smothering him. But Jill wasn’t overtly cruel and wanted him to have a good time too. So after her orgasm finished, she hopped down and untwisted the clamps from his balls, making Jack sigh in relief. She sat next to him and started giving him a blow job while also punching his nuts. SMACK SMACK SMACK It was almost seconds into it when Jacks’ beleaguered nuts tightened and he came into her mouth, screaming from the combination of pain and pleasure. He almost passed out from it. The orgasm he had was mind bending, and Jill dutifully swallowed his load of sperm. Jack kept repeating, “Oh, god, Oh, god.”

But in the end, he was spent and she stopped sucking him off. She untied him from the bed, and let him curl up into a ball, which he stayed in for a good half hour, just holding himself and his dick now deflated, while she did some stretching and breathing exercises. Eventually he uncurled and said, “Damn that was good.”

She walked over to him, and whispered into his ear, “Let’s go take a shower together, sweetheart, and let’s see if I can get another rise out of you. I’m still horny.”

“OK,” he groaned. He got up and followed her. This should be interesting.


Update - what am I doing with my time

So other than endless work, my minimal free time is now spent "world building". This is the process by which fantasy and sci-fi w...