Enduring Jersey: part 2

Caley

     Caley was the saving grace of my stay in Jersey. She had no interest in hurting my testicles. I was so glad she was part of the group because she gave me an extra couple days to recover. I needed them too. My sack was mostly purple, but it was its contents that concerned me. Tina’s kicks really tenderized them, and her stomp had left a nasty internal bruise than hurt constantly and kept getting worse. Tori hadn’t done much damage, but Noemi’s last kick reversed any healing. My balls were terribly sore before Susan kneed them, and they were far worse afterward. Even a slight touch awakened the pain, and they would ache at random almost taking my breath away. Sometimes a shard of pain stabbed through one of them as if it really wasn’t going to be okay. I was so relieved to be facing Caley instead of LeeAnne.
     I met Caley at the beach. She was laying out in the sun with a hint of pink developing in her tan. She propped herself up on her elbows when I said hi, and I slowly sat down in the sand. Her lip curled slightly in a knowing smile when she saw how carefully I moved. Her shoulder length wavy hair shined strawberry blonde in the sunlight. She explained, “Susan’s out surfing. A couple of the others are around too. It’s supposed to be nice all week.” We talked a little bit about the surf conditions, then turned to music. Caley knew more about music than I did, but she had diverse interests, so it was easy to find common ground. Her blue eyes revealed a genuine interest in our conversation, and she had a pleasant, casual smile. She finished her Italian ice and asked if I wanted to get a beer.
     I couldn’t keep up with Caley on the way to the bar. She walked quickly until she noticed me lagging with a pained grimace. She laughed and asked, “Are you really that sore? Susan said that was medium force.” I gave her an incredulous look, and she laughed sympathetically. She was good company and attractive. As we talked at the bar, I realized it was nice to be near a woman who was kind and gentle to me. It had been half an hour, and I hadn’t suffered at all, so I offered to buy her lunch. “What’s good around here?” I asked. She responded, “Seafood. This is New Jersey.”

LeeAnne

     LeeAnne called to tell me she wanted to meet in the sand. I took that as a good sign because I knew she wanted to kick. She also wanted to confirm that she could kick me three times as hard as she wants. I tried to make it clear that I didn’t really prefer that, but had to admit there was no rule against it. My testicles hurt to the touch and were just beginning to mend again. They felt like they had climbed out of hell and collapsed at its gate.
     We met at Susan’s umbrella again. I got there early. LeeAnne arrived several minutes later wearing casual summer clothes. When she got a little closer, my heart sank. Noemi noticed too and called out “nice shoes.” LeeAnne wore clogs. They had a heavy wooden sole and hard leather over the foot. Those were going to hurt. If she wore those to the beach, she meant to use them.
   “Thanks Noemi.” LeeAnne looked bright and enthusiastic with rounded features and long blond hair. She was tall and lean. She had an innocent look to her until she said, “Okay, stand over there.” I was resigned to a serious thrashing. She looked out at the other girls then centered her eyes on me. Her kick was deliberate but light. The hard toe smacked into them but only knocked them around. I exhaled sharply but kept my feet. Even that really hurt. I was so relieved that I didn’t notice just how hard LeeAnne was coming for me the next time. I had wrongly imagined that LeeAnne’s youth meant she wasn’t experienced at this. Her aim was confident, and she put all her heart into it. I tried to look only at her beaming face even as her shoe smashed into my balls. With her height advantage, the kick naturally maintained power even when it struck more solid flesh and bone. The hard leather compressed them against me, and I felt them strain. I screamed out as I fell first to my knees then twitching to the ground. I kicked repeatedly into the sand and bellowed. The left hurt terribly, but the more tender right nut deciding it was dying and lit up every nerve with a relentless searing. I convulsed every few seconds as the aftershocks came in and the aching mounted. My gut clenched up hard as well, but I was too scared to worry about that. It was a couple minutes before I had a steady enough hand to reach inside hoping to make sure they still had solid form. The left hurt, but it was okay, the right screamed with stabbing pain when I tried to touch it. I needed to get them on ice right away. I was debating calling a cab, when I heard LeeAnne.
   “Okay, it looks like you’ve recovered, only one more to go.” Recovered? I had only just caught my breath. “What’s the matter? You came all this way, and now you can’t take it?” I didn’t care about her cutesy mockery, but I resented her for wanting a third kick. After Noemi took her best shot, she bought me a beer; LeeAnne was coming back for more. It wasn’t just the pain (which was intolerable); the right one felt like it would split open if it took another kick like that. I was terrified that I was about to be maimed by a woman too young to understand the severity of it. I got up really slowly, even slower than I needed to. I looked up at her pitifully, and she explained, “I just had to see what I could do.”
     Everyone was waiting expectantly, so I got to my feet. I had to put my hands on my knees to keep them from shaking. LeeAnne impatiently tapped her foot in the sand as if she wanted to keep it warmed up. I looked out at the faces; a couple were sympathetic, but no one suggested I could get out of it. I put my hands up behind my head and stood a bit straighter. I still felt shaky, but LeeAnne seemed satisfied. She gave me a smile and launched another kick. This one was quick but didn’t have quite the same force. At the last second, I panicked and flinched. Instead of taking another hit from the top of her shoe, the toe punched directly into my left nut. It got pinched hard, but eventually slipped away. The pain immediately stabbed straight to its heart. I fell hard and trashed like I was holding a live wire. In place of my usual curses and grunts there was a keening wail. Now both of my balls were blazing. I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. I choked and sobbed as a sick feeling pushed deeper into my guts. Eventually there were little moments when I could deal with the world again. The crowd dispersed and some of my group were getting ready to leave. LeeAnne told me, “You shouldn’t have moved, you know. I wasn’t trying to break them. Claire and Emerson should have their fun too.” I grunted agreement.
   Someone brought me ice and I stayed nursing my wounds. They hurt as badly then as after Susan’s knee. LeeAnne and her clogs had totally made up for Caley’s reprieve. I tried to put on a brave face for the girls, but I felt sick thinking of going through another night freezing my aching balls off so they didn’t become the size of lemons. I refused to move so LeeAnne got me more ice and left me there. She gave me a parting smile and the familiar but unconvincing reassurance, “You’ll be okay.”

Claire
   I got the swelling under control again, but I could feel each ball constantly. They didn’t usually much hurt unless I moved them, but even just hanging out there was a background stimulus. I met Claire on the boardwalk. She wore a skirt that came down almost to her knees and a cheerful short sleeve shirt. Her blonde hair framed cute sunburned cheeks. A large purple flower adorned her hair. She was short with a medium build and middle aged with a pretty rounded face. Her bright eyes and natural smile with perfect teeth gave her a vibrant appearance. She didn’t look powerful or intimidating, but her expression indicated that she knew just what she wanted to do to me and how to make it happen. Claire had been nice to me throughout, and I saw her wince sympathetically when I got up from LeeAnne’s second kick. I hoped she was mature enough not to accidentally break anything in its current state.
     Claire kicked off her sandals then stepped up to me and raised her knee to line up a shot. She was brimming with excitement as she took three big steps back. Then her sweet face became aggressive. Her eyes narrowed on my groin, and her mouth twisted. As she came at me, fear took hold. She swung her right leg back and flexed dramatically as she built power behind the knee. I lost control and jumped back in panic. Everyone laughed because Claire had barely even raised her knee. She giggled and said “You were doing so well at first, are you going to wimp out now?” Without a word I regained my composure and stood in front of her legs apart. I put my hands behind my head and gave her a stern look. She stepped up to me slowly, almost sensuously. She took me by the upper arm and steadily raised her knee into my crotch. It wasn’t even really a strike, but I exhaled sharply and recoiled a bit. Even that tap reminded me how sore they were. Then I remembered to look hard and determined.
     Claire met my eyes and hit me with a simple solid knee. It wasn’t that hard, and for a second, I was fine, but sharp, exhilarating pain began just as her foot touched the ground. I moaned a bit and bent at the waist. I stamped my foot a couple times and caught my breath. The aching set in and I had to resist the urge to sink down to the ground. Claire seemed to be reweighing her options for the third hit. “Are you ready?” she asked kindly, but firmly. I said I needed a second.
   Claire took my shoulders and smiled sweetly. Her face showed a bit of effort this time. The strike lined up nicely with my left ball, and I felt it squish just a little. There was a distinct thud, but again the real pain didn’t hit right away. This hit had the same sharp pain only it was much stronger and concentrated on the left. I fell to my knees and then forward. A burning coursed through my left ball. The pain reached down into it and left me reeling. I curled up on my side and held my knees, moaning low as the aching crept up into my belly. Claire giggled and gave me a pleased look. I met her eyes with respectful appreciation. She smiled knowingly and offered, “Only one girl left.”
     I was able to regain my feet after a little while, but the pain lingered. For once I could participate in the debriefing. I admitted that the fake knee was perfect because it shamed me into standing my ground. I explained that the last knee really hurt, and still hurt, but I was getting better at taking it. Privately, I thanked Claire for starting light and leaving me able to walk back to my place. She admitted that the light hits revealed just how sore I was, so she held back just a bit on the last one. She concluded, “I got what I wanted.” I had to admire Claire’s style. Her series of knees gave me a variety of sensations and left me helpless at her feet. That seemed appropriate for this tour of New Jersey.

Emerson
     I woke up with a familiar soft aching between my legs. I sat up and held my balls in my hand. They hurt just a tiny bit to the touch, but I could sense the vulnerability just below the surface. The worst hits had left an enduring mark. Each ball had its particular injuries. There was damaged tissue, and raw nerves slumbered fitfully, bearing deep grudges.
     Today was the last day of the tour and the hottest. I wanted to get the beach early and enjoy it while I could. I ran into Emerson outside the bar. She was meeting a couple of the girls soon, so I could join her. We got our drinks and found an empty table. We talked about how she used to play lacrosse. She was tan, in her mid to late 20’s, with a mature demeanor. Even in beachwear, she had a professional look. Her brown hair became lighter as it flowed down just past her shoulders. She was medium height, slim with well toned muscles. She wore solid looking shoes with a rounded tip. I asked her plans for the day, and she said “Some of us are going surfing later. I suppose you won’t be joining us.” I chuckled at that and slowly shook my head then shifted my weight to relive pressure. Emerson gave me an understanding nod and asked, “So what do you want? I should warn you that the knee is the most powerful strike.” I thought back to Susan’s knee. Emerson had martial arts training as well. I replied, “I think I’d prefer a kick.” She saw me looking down at her shoes and said, “I could go barefeet if you want.” I quickly agreed to that. “Okay, barefeet in the sand. But don’t think you’re getting off too easy.” A few more people arrived, and we all had a drink together then claimed a place in the sand and went down to the water. I preferred to stay close to shore. I admired some of the less dangerous women who were running around on the beach and in the water, but I tried to drive all such thoughts from my mind before going back to meet Emerson.
     She asked me if I had a nice swim and we talked a bit. Then she said it was too bad our adventure was coming to an end. I had more mixed feelings, but I just agreed. I would be sad to leave, but I was already stretched to the breaking point. I felt wary; Emerson was dangerous even barefoot in the sand, and she said I wasn’t getting off easy. I would be relieved if I made it through one more day.
     The beach was crowded but the other girls formed a screen which created a feeling of enclosure. I looked into her eyes and stood tall. She returned a respectful smile. Then she stepped up in front of me and looked me over. After a second, she placed her palms together and closed her eyes. Her breathing became slow and steady, and mine slowed to match it. We shared a serene moment. I still knew I was about to be kicked in the balls, maybe harder than ever before, but I felt relaxed. Emerson’s eyes opened. There was a quick movement from her hips and shoulders then her kick came racing forward. Her knee came up, and she snapped her foot like lightning against my balls. There was no crushing pressure, she concentrated her force in one mighty smack. There was a crisp slap as her wet skin struck soft tissue behind a thin layer of nylon. My toes curled into the sand as I hopped up half an inch then fell straight to the ground. The sting was overwhelming. There was a sharp uniform pain where her foot hit, it pulsed from there throughout the rest of the balls. I ran through a string of expletives. The pain redoubled, so I convulsed violently for a second then lay twitching. Emerson’s kick perfectly distributed it’s force across both balls. Underneath the immediate trauma, there were the echoes of a dozen accumulated blows. Old wounds reopened. Each tender spot howled. The deep bruises burned and ached. Each injury bored into me a little deeper, as if it would haunt me forever. There was aching and a bit of sickness in my guts, but it was the waves of sharp pain that kept me rolling in the sand. I tried to control my breathing. In time, the waves of pain synchronized with the surf against the shore. There were calls of “encore,” but Emerson ignored them. We all savored the moment as I lay at their feet, my balls thoroughly wracked. Surprisingly, I soon recovered enough to stand. I congratulated Emerson on her accuracy. She graciously thanked me. Then Susan told me I had missed Emerson’s bow. After the kick, as I lay paralyzed on the ground for a second, Emerson placed her hands together and honored me with a deep bow.
     I felt weak but exhilarated. Now that it was over, I was smiling through the pain. Everyone congratulated Emerson on her poise and style. Then they turned to me and commended my courage. Even LeeAnne’s chiding reminder that I hardly flinched carried an undertone of respect. We spent a while reminiscing over the last two weeks. Then everyone gave each other a hug. We took some pictures, and then stood around talking and saying goodbyes as people drifted off. The surfers were the last to leave. I got another round of hugs, and they turned to walk away. I watched for a moment, then Tina turned back and winked at me, “Send us a postcard from Ocean Medical.”