Catcalls and Bruised Balls

[Joe S]

At the sound of whistling, Shelly spun on her heels causing her cotton sundress to whirl up, pale yellow and indigo flowers dancing and rippling along the hemline, exposing her silky, golden thighs. This only served to augment the cat calls coming from the two men sitting splay-legged, arms draped leisurely over the back of the wood-slatted benches. Shelly’s eyes narrowed as the one in the slim-ribbed wife-beater tee casually leaned forward flashing a cocky grin while flexing his impressive biceps. She read a jaunty confidence in his dark eyes and despite her disgust with his behavior, her body thrilled involuntarily at the sight of his lean frame and well-developed musculature, covered by honey-colored skin that glistened in the shimmering heat.

“The nerve!” Shelly hissed, ignoring her body’s prurient betrayal. In her peripheral vision she could see her friend Jessica rolling her eyes, though she couldn’t tell if it was in regards to the shameless chauvinistic behavior or to her own reaction to the perceived injustice. As she took a step toward the men, she felt Jessica’s hand on her arm and the mystery cleared.

“Let it go.” Jessica’s voice was calm and collected, but not without empathy. “They’re just a couple of morons just looking for attention. But that one with the dimples is pretty cute,” she added, more wistfully than she’d intended.

Shelly’s eyes moved to the man still leaning back, smiling like an idiot – a handsome idiot – but an idiot nonetheless. With his wavy, black hair and Caribbean blue, ultramarine eyes, she recognized he was exactly her friend’s type. The thought of Jessica even acknowledging his good looks only heightened her irritation. She shrugged her friend’s hand away and marched across the grass toward the bench, ignoring Jessica’s further pleading to let it go.

With the distance half-closed, Shelly felt her leg buckle as the thin heel of her sandal sunk into a soft patch of grass. Though she was able to right herself, a bloom of crimson spread up her throat and onto her cheeks as the man in the wife-beater cackled at her near misfortune.

“Better watch yourself missy,” he said, sounding haughty in Shelly’s ears. “Those grass bandits might not show that nice figure of yours the same tenderness I would.”

His imperious attempt at a come on drove all the embarrassment from Shelly as the rage inside her intensified. She marched on, taking care not to slip again while turning a deaf ear to the schoolboy sniggering elicited by the freshly instilled caution in her approach. About five feet from the bench she stopped and wagged a delicate finger at both of the men though her gaze locked on the dark, syrupy eyes of the man in the wife-beater. She opened her mouth to sling a derisive barb but the only thing that came out was a frustrated, diminutive grunt. The man she was staring daggers through clapped his large hands on his thighs and smirked, not breaking her gaze while Blue Eyes pitched forward in unfettered laughter with his hands holding his stomach.

“Aw darlin’,” drawled Wife-beater, “Take your time. I know it’s hard to find words to describe a dashing fella like myself. But don’t worry, I’ll wait.” He leaned back, eyes closed, turning his face to the sky, letting the sunshine warm his countenance as if he had all the time in the world.

“Dashing?” Shelly blurted in exasperation.

“Mmm hmm,” the man said, not opening his eyes.

Shelly stamped her foot indignantly and put her hands on her hips. “You’re not dashing. You’re a chauvinistic prick. Both of you!” She growled, turning her gaze on Blue Eyes, which only made him burst out in fresh laughter. If Shelly’s eyes were lasers, Blue Eyes would’ve been nothing but a pile of ashes.

Stretching slowly, entirely unperturbed, the man in the wife-beater. rose from the bench towering over Shelly like she was but a child. He hooked his thumbs through the belt loops in his jeans and let his fingers dangle over his inner thighs in a suggestive manner.

Despite her choler, Shelly couldn’t help but notice the thick, cylindrical bulge raising the fabric of the man’s jeans along the inside of his right thigh. So what, she scoffed to herself. So he has a big dick. Doesn’t give him the right to be a big dick. Pulling her eyes away from his crotch, Shelly let a fresh wave of fury wash over her until she could feel it settle into her eyes. She lifted her face to meet his gaze. He was smirking down at her like it was some sort of game to him. He was the cat and she was the mouse and he was simply toying with her because he could.

Her fingers curled into tight little balls and she dug her fists into the airy cotton fabric of her sundress. Everything inside of her wanted to knock that smirk off his face with a hard punch square to his jaw, to see his head snap back and his eyes go wide from the shock of pain. Before she could turn her desire into action, she noticed a shift in his expression. The smirk had faded, his eyes no longer lazy and languid but instead fully attentive and hungry. She followed their path and then sneered in disgust when she realized he had a bird’s eye view of her cleavage. Instead of covering her chest with her hands, which would have been her natural reaction, Shelly subtly arched her back, making her breasts appear larger than they were while ensuring they held his focus. She considered saying something sarcastic like “Take a picture, it’ll last longer” or “Wouldn’t you just love to touch ‘em?” But she had a plan and maybe it was better if, for once, she just kept her saucy mouth shut.

Shelly glanced quickly toward Blue Eyes and saw that he was looking past her. She turned her head without moving her torso, wanting to keep Wife-beater's eyes where they were. Jessica was moving toward them, though slowly, like she still wasn’t sure she wanted to be involved. Shelly smiled to herself. If all went according to plan, her friend would be sad she took her time.

Turning back to the man looming over her, eyes still glued to her chest, Shelly cleared her throat audibly. “Ahem,” she said, suddenly wearing a sultry, beckoning smile as she looked up at him. It seemed to take him a moment to climb out from the abyss of her cleavage and process this new sentiment he was being shown. But when he did, Shelly could see his arrogance had faded, and though he still looked pretty cocky, he finally returned her lusty smile with a lopsided grin of his own.

Underneath the flirty façade, Shelly’s blood was still boiling, raging like wild bronco against a bridle. It was time to let that bronco buck. The sweet, alluring expression on her face disappeared like flicking a light switch, replaced by a firmly set and determined jaw, her thin brows heavy over her narrowed eyes. Before Wife-beater could process the sudden change, Shelly’s hands were up on his shoulders.

As she pulled closer to his body, Shelly could feel the heat radiating from it, exuding the rich, oaky aroma of his cologne. She inhaled the scent greedily which, to her, smelled wonderfully male, a scent that, under different circumstances, make just about make her panties drop. His shoulders were broad and firm in her grip and his skin was surprisingly smooth over his taut muscles. With a great force of willpower, Shelly pushed aside her lusty desires and bit her lip in concentration. There was a more feminine desire that needed release.

With every ounce of strength she had, Shelly thrust her knee sky high, trying to raise it all the way to the bright sun overhead. Halfway up, the top of her kneecap smashed into the man’s testicles, carrying them skyward on her silky, bared thigh. His breath smelled of cinnamon, like he’d been chewing Big Red, as he exhaled involuntarily and cried out. Shelly knew she crunched them good, but the sickly grimace that seized his face, causing his jaw to clench so hard she thought he might crack his teeth, only confirmed the fact. The satisfaction she felt was beyond words as a rush of adrenaline coursed through her body, her head spinning dizzily with delight. When his legs finally buckled and he sank like dead weight to his knees, Shelly’s breath caught. A moment ago, his muscled body towered over her willowy, delicate frame and now it was she who was looming over him. His shoulders seemed less broad as they hunched over his concave torso and the muscle fibers in his arms trembled weakly. It was clear to Shelly that from the way he was cupping his balls, which, in her radiant feminine rage, she’d just busted so hard, the outside world had disappeared from him. All he could do was process the pain she’d put him in.

If ever there was a cause for Shelly to smirk, this would have been it. She had earned the right to stare smugly at his miserable, trembling body. Instead, her pretty face was angelic with an open-mouthed smile that spoke of nothing but bliss, while her hands dangled loosely at her sides as if she couldn’t be any more comfortable or contented. So lost to her own euphoria, Shelly was oblivious to the way Blue Eyes rocketed off the bench. Had he held his composure, he could’ve leveled her easily, but his outrage got the better of him.

“You fucking bitch!” Blue Eyes roared as he lunged toward Shelly.

Snapping her head around, Shelly’s eyes went wide as the owner of the roaring voice came at her like a wild animal. While he wasn’t as tall as his friend, he was a good two hundred pounds and easily double Shelly’s weight. Her heart jumped into her throat and she opened her mouth only to issue a silent scream. Bracing for his lumbering tackle, Shelly raised her arms in protection. But it wasn’t necessary.

Before he could get his hands on her, Jessica calmly stepped around her vulnerable friend and delivered a solid kick between the legs of the pretty-eyed boy, thoroughly smashing his balls. Shelly gaped as the man dropped instantly to the ground, his arms tucked under him, his face pressed into the soft grass, as he writhed around in thrashing spasms. She looked at her friend and saw that Jessica was covering her growing smile with a small, well-manicured hand. When Jessica looked over at Shelly the smile spread to her eyes and her eyebrows seemed to rise in surprised amusement. The two girls stared at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing.

“Goddamn Jess,” Shelly said between giggles, “I think you just sent his nuts to the moon.”

Jessica shrugged her shoulders as if it was no big deal. “I don’t care how cute a boy is. Mess with my friend and I’ll kick his balls. Hard,” she added, laughing again.

The two girls stood next to each other, arms around each other’s waists and gazed happily at the two big men at their feet. For a brief moment they glanced at each other and, with the intuition of sisters, knew exactly what the other was thinking. There was no sight more aesthetically-pleasing, more instructive or more deliciously decisive than a man holding his balls in utter agony at the very feet of the woman who had just kicked them firmly and made them hurt.