Ballbusting Bildungsroman (Part I - The Soccer Team)

Hey, all! I've been into ballbusting as long as I can remember, though I had a peculiar introduction to it. Like all kids, I had seen movies in which a main character gets kicked in the balls, and, even before I could understand the pain, I shared that primordial fear and sense of inferiority. So, I decided to write this account of my ballbusting coming-of-age. (Large portions of this are true - especially the early stories - but I've written in some better dialogue and exaggerated details where I've liked. Still, overall things like this first experience or my sister's repeated bustings did - and in the latter case, do - happen).

I was probably late to ballbusting in general: the first time I was kicked in the balls (by my sister, three years my senior, who would later do so relentlessly) was at the age of 13, but my sister tapped me so lightly (as a joke) that I barely felt anything at all. So, cocky 13 year old that I was, I simply assumed that I had "Balls of Steel" and could withstand anything.

Fastforward two years into my freshman year of highschool, when 15-year old me developed a crush on a member of the soccer team (you can predict where this story is going). Soccer-girl was a year or two my senior (a sophomore), and gorgeous - a little shorter than I am (5'11"), thin, dark-tan, black hair, dark brown eyes, and long, muscular legs. One day after their practice, I came across soccer girl and engaged in some banter with her, until I eventually called her out on saying something stupid. She was furious that I was laughing at her and demanded that I apologize - obviously, I refused, then she made a fateful threat:

"Apologize or I'll kick you in the balls!" she said, sort of awkwardly.

"Good one," I responded, laughing at her some more.

"What are you talking about?" she was puzzled. "I'm totally serious. Say you're sorry or I'll kick you."

"For some reason, I'm not persuaded." I was confident that, after she threw her little fit, I'd still be standing - after all, I'd been able to take kicks there before without feeling a thing!

"Are you stupid?" she asked. "I'm a soccer player. This will be literally the worst experience of your life. Just apologize."

At this point, I did make the worst (best!) mistake of my life: I spread my legs, smiled at her, and said, "I dare you."

She was incredulous for a moment, then shrugged, brought her leg back, and made eye contact with me for a second. At that instant, I saw in her eyes the same look of confidence that only man about to get racked in the balls has seen: that wolfish, sadistic glimmer that knows what she's about to do. Too late, I realized that what was about to happen would probably be unpleasant, and I had probably made a mistake. I trembled in that last moment, a fact which no doubt gave her some satisfaction.

She paused for one more moment before saying, "You're going to have trouble walking tomorrow."

And wham! She rammed her foot into my jewels, protected only by thin gym mesh shorts. Before I could even comprehend what was going on, I was laying on the grass, hands on my balls, in fetal position, moaning. Pain erupted in my testicles, burning with an unimaginable, world-ending sensation. My entire body shivered, and I couldn't understand why I had dropped instantly, until I realized that my sister had probably just been going easy on me. I made no effort to stand, but my head rolled back and I could see her standing above me.

Soccer girl had her hands on her hips, her legs spread confidently. She stood, silhouetted against the sun, looking down at me with a coy smile and amused eyes, confident that the damage she wrought had served to send a message.

"Are you sorry?" she said, suppressing laughter.

I could only moan in reply, so she took a few steps towards me, tapping my swollen, tender package lightly (but still enough to cause pain) with her foot.

"Say you're sorry or you get it again," she warned, her voice now underscored by a distinct harshness.

"Screw you," I said, somehow mustering courage in my most pitiful position.

"Big mistake," she giggled, opening my legs with her foot before snap-kicking me three more times, the most painful experience of my life.

My balls erupted into pain again, accompanying the dull ache of the first kick, and I lurched over, grabbing onto them. I began to shiver and convulse, and my breathing became short and tense, as I looked over to her again standing up over me, her face now angry and judgmental, but amused all the same.

"Say it," she warned, crossing her arms. "Or I won't be so light next time."

Light! I thought, acutely aware that this was by far the worst pain I'd ever experienced (or experienced since!). What would hard feel like?

Wisely (though regrettably :P ), I elected not to find out - in all likelihood, a hard kick by a soccer player would have been a death sentence! That or I would have lost one of my boys!

"Sorry!" I managed a soft, crackling squeal, which caused her to giggle.

"How sorry are you?" she asked, stretching her legs towards me lazily. "You sure you don't want another?"

"I'm so sorry. Please, no more."

"Good," she said. "I forgive you. If you ever insult me again, I'll make sure you lose one."

For a few minutes, she simply stood over me as I rocked forward and back, cradling my package, which now even hurt to my own touch. Then, she walked over to me and knelt down, looking me in the eyes with what seemed to be genuine sympathy.

"That was harsh of me, and I'm sorry," she said, resting her hand on my shoulder. "I know you like me and were just teasing for fun, so I shouldn't have done that. Here."

She leaned towards me and planted a kiss - my first! - on my lips, then pulled back, sitting for a few more moments before pulling herself up.

"Buuut, it's just too much fun," she laughed, prodding open my legs before landing one last running-kick, punting my balls into oblivion.

With that she ran off, leaving me to shudder in pain, recollect myself, and make the embarrassing journey home... (TBC)

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