(m/M) Mark and Me Part 2 - NEW

 Mark and Me (Part 2)

After our Christmas nut-and-sex-fest my stepdad had minor surgery to remove his squashed testicles and replace them with fake ones. He started a regime of testosterone injections, and life returned to normal. For some reason my mom didn't want to be with Mark anymore, and she started divorce proceedings, but I told mom I didn't want to live with her, but with Mark. She was fine with this as she wasn't very maternal. Both of them had careers in law, and made a lot of money, so I went to live with Mark in relative luxury. Naturally, we had lots of lots of quality time together. I once asked Mark if he missed my mother, he said, "I'd rather be with you than whole horde of women. You mean everything to me." I melted inside when he said this. He really, really cared about me and my sexy teenage body.

I would get home from school, take a shower, make something to eat and hang out next to the pool. When Mark got home, he'd strip come out to where I was and dive into the pool, naked. I'd join him and we'd kiss and suck each other for what seemed like hours. One of us would get up on the pool's ledge and the other would suck on the huge pole of the other. When I was getting sucked, I would often cum within about five minutes of frottage, and if I was going down on Mark, he'd merely leak copious amounts of precum. Mark usually had to be inside me to cum.

This led to the reality of anal sex. Mark showed me how to use an enema and douche to clean myself out, and then he could fuck me after lubing up his cock. At first being fucked was uncomfortable, but with practice I got used to the unusual sensations involved. It was around this time, I'd say I was about 15, that I began to desire Mark to become rough with my balls. The way he had enjoyed being ballbusted when his nuts had been real made me curious about the process, and I started out by asking him to squeeze my nuts firmly when he was going down on me or fucking me. He gladly obliged, and I would feel his strong fingers bearing down on my precious agates. Usually, as I got closer and closer to cumming, I would tell him to squeeze harder and harder, and as he did so my dick would become harder and harder until it was so rigid and engorged that it actually hurt. And my nuts hurt too. They'd go from pink to white as his fingers and thumbs pressed deeply into them.

After several months of orgasms mixed with nut pain, I mustered up all my courage and decided to up the ante. I asked Mark to start kicking me between the legs and nail my nuts with his foot and shin. At first, I could only take a few kicks. I'd stand naked (him naked too), and he'd stand behind me and nail my nads with moderate force. A few kicks later, I'd be on my knees, holding my goobers and moaning. He'd come over and caress me and kiss me while I was in the throes of agony. But as he pointed out, over time body parts tone, and become able to withstand more and more percussive force. After about a half year of busting I was able to stand stock-still for a good twenty or thirty kicks, hits or punches to my delicate orbs. On nights when I could withstand a minimum of an hour of ballbusting he'd let me fuck him, and cumming inside him with aching jewels was a lifechanging experience, and I finally understood why he had enjoyed being busted so much. The endorphin explosion when I came was mind-bending.

By the time I was seventeen a common evening would go like this: I'd be naked waiting for Mark to come home from work, slowly jacking myself off in anticipation, edging over and over. Mark would arrive and he'd undress and we'd take a shower together. Once we were squeaky clean, we'd dry off and go into the living room. I'd bend over and grab my ankles. Mark would then come up behind me (so I couldn't see the kicks coming) and start jamming his knee between my legs, smashing my balls with his hard kneecap. CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH. Then he'd back up and launch kicks to my nuts. The testicle pain would travel from my nuts deep into my lower stomach. It usually made me want to puke, but I'd manage to keep control. Then, when I couldn't stand any longer, I'd lay on my back, he'd kneel between my legs, and while I stroked my rigid pole, he'd ball up his fist and slam it into my naked, helpless testicles. My nuts would jiggle and bounce as he smashed them up against my pelvic bone.

I'd always be moaning and begging him to hit me harder, to really make me feel my nuts being turned to mush, and he'd be sexually excited by getting to denut a fellow male. It was steamy, hot, sexy torture, and we both got off on the violence and pain.

Eventually my 18th birthday rolled around, and just as Mark had given me his nuts all those Christmases ago, so now I asked him to take mine as my birthday present. My birthday was in late October, and since I had graduated from Highschool but not yet gone to college, I was free the whole time. Mark had to apply for a week's holiday so we could be together 24/7. We fucked, we sucked, we massaged, we skinny dipped, and we cuddled in front of the TV and a roaring fire. It was starting to get cold, and we snuggled under warm blankets on the couch, touching each other, kissing, and fondling. Every time I thought about being emasculated I got a hard-on that simply wouldn't go away. It was so exciting to think I'd be just like him in a few days.

On the big day, Mark woke me up from deep sleep by sweeping aside the bed covers and did a deathdrop on my sleepy, droopy balls. Not once, but five times. I vomited for the first time that day. it wouldn't be the last. He then fucked me missionary style for his first ejaculation of the day. He squeezed my testicles as he did so, making me vomit for the second time. We showered and then went into the living room. Mark had set up ropes in various places so that I could be immobilized , and soon i was hanging from ropes, suspended above the ground, and he began to methodically punch my beleaguered balls. WHAM WHAM WHAM. He pounded my puds for all he was worth. There's nothing quite like seeing your own ball-meat warp around an adult male fist. Then he switched to kicking me between the legs. My manhood was starting to feel like hamburger, and I couldn't stop moaning OR dripping precum.

Mark found some twine in the kitchen and came back into the living room. As I dangled there, helpless, he tied up my cock and balls so that they were snuggly separated from each other. Then he went to the garage and returned with two wickedly sharp hooks. Taking one bruised and bloated ball, he guided the sharp point of the hook into the top of my left nut, skewering the whole thing. I had a thick metal hook going through my entire ball. Then he did the same to my right testicle. Then he tied string to their ends and hung a gallon of milk from each. My skewered testicles were now being dragged down towards my knees and leaking sperm tubes at the same time. He watched me dangle there, and to add to my luscious misery, he starting to flick my nuts with his fingers. After a certain amount of flicking, I vomited. Again.

Now the fun began as he started to jack my rigid dick off. He wanted to see what it would be like for me to cum with such extremely damaged balls. He sucked me, stroked me, and slapped my cock around until I began to scream and cum at the same time. Huge ribbons of sticky white man-juice hit the carpet with SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT. I writhed and twisted in the agonizing amazingness of it all. I so desperately wanted to lose my nuts to stop the pain, but I also didn't want this all to end. I wanted Mark to crush my balls each day, forever.

But did my dick deflate? Nope. I was still randy as fuck. Little did I know what would come next. He took out the hooks and tossed them and the milk jugs aside. He undid the twine on my balls, but not my cock. He disappeared back into the garage, and emerged with a strange looking device. It looked like curved pliers. He looked at me and told me what it was. It was designed to crush the spermatic tubes of a male, thus castrating him. It would not, however, damage any of the nerve bundles, so that they could still feel every ounce of pain that they had coming.

He smiled. 

"Are you ready my love? After this you won't be able to cum with sperm in it." He grabbed my balls, and singled out the larger left nut, fitting the clamp behind it and then squeezed with all his might. I was screamed like a dying leopard. The clamp was crushing my nuts' tubes, and I could both feel and hear them softly pop and gush their contents. I writhed and screamed. It was agony. When he was pleased with the work he'd done on my lefty, he moved to my right testicle and clamped it. My screaming renewed, and I was twitching any way I could to release my poor ball from its plight. 

Finally, it was over, and my goobers just hung there, unable to move or retract, no longer able to deliver sperm to my prostate, and now totally useless baby-makers. Mark knelt before me and started to suck my rigid prick, purple with pent up arousal.

I moaned, I drooled, I dry heaved (I'd puked out everything I'd eaten in the last two days, so there was nothing left to heave). I screamed shrilly as my second batch of spermless cum rocketed out of my cock and into my stepfather's warm silky mouth He kept sucking and sucking, and my dick kept spurting and spurting. My dying balls swayed back and forth, and Mark played with them all the while.

In my dazed state I realized that the only thing left to do now would be to crush my balls, preferably while they were still attached to me. I had no idea how he'd do it. Mark left the room, again, and returned with some suggestive items: alcohol, a lighter, and some medical grade scissors.

With some effort he pulled on the various ropes holding me up and he made it so that I was literally perfectly parallel to the floor, but with my body at head height. My testicles and rigid penis dangled towards the floor. This position let Mark do things to my manhood without having to kneel or lean forward. It was all within easy reach.

Mark took the scissors and began to cut around the base of my scrotum until the whole thing came off in his hands. He set it aside, a gossamer thin, pink bag of flesh. Now my naked testicles just hung there, white, pierced and still. He took the bottle of alcohol and poured it over them. I shrieked at the stinging pain and then he took the lighter and lit my nuts on fire. My oysters started to cook. The whole room smelled like roasted meat. Had I not been in mind-bending pain, I'd probably be salivating. 

After a while they were cooked on the outside but still sensitive on the inside, and naturally he just walked up to them, and like a shark from beneath, engulfed them in his mouth, and then just chewed them into mush, and swallowed so he could eat my manhood. As my testicles burst inside his mouth and were masticated my stupid penis gave a final volley of cum which covered Mark's face and head. It was thin, watery cum, and I gave a final shudder and yell and passed out. It was joined by his cum, because he jizzed the moment my testicles burst in his mouth. The floor was gonna be pretty sticky for a while.

Weeks later the two of us were in bed. Mark was groping my smooth skin where my sack had once been and both of us had just taken our testosterone shots and were randy, and I had an idea.

"Mark, what if we were to lure guys from online and from the local gay dance clubs and nut them here at the house. We could give them Ambien and GHB. They'll be horny as hell and won't remember a thing. We can torture them, castrate them, eat their cocks and balls, and then dump them somewhere. It's perfect."

Mark just smiled and said, "Whatever you want Nick." He leaned in to kiss me, and we began to fuck. What a great pastime we'd discovered . . . .