Ryan Preens, Rebecca Cleans (His Clock)

He studied his reflection, shadowy on the window against the purple black sky, and gave himself a wry smile. One corner of his face was hidden so that his square jaw, a high cheekbone and one heavy brow over a deep set, yet soft gray eye appeared to hover in the darkness while the form of his body had a sort of smoothness about it in the absence of any harsh light that might define potential flaws. The smile tightened for a moment, almost smug as he narrowed his eyes, and then broke into a light-hearted, self-mocking jeer. It was after midnight and here he was admiring himself in his own living room window, shirtless in a pair of soft, well-worn khakis and no socks, imagining he appeared so handsome and mysterious thanks to the forgiving and dim lighting that filtered his reflection. He laughed out loud as the thought struck him. This is why people use filters on Instagram. Refocusing on the window-as-mirror, he offered up his best tough guy face while flexing his pecs and tightening his well-formed abs. Maybe he should join Insta, he thought, before once again laughing at his machismo for such a ridiculous, overconfident thought.

On the opposite side of the street a black Accord pulled to a stop and Rebecca emerged, one pale leg flashing against the dark. Her raven hair was nearly indistinguishable from the night sky as was her slinky black dress that stopped short of her knees. Even her ruby hair band and matching heels were hard to see. But the places where her pale, creamy skin was exposed called to the eye like a beacon on the horizon. A long deep line split her bosom as it rose above the curved cut of her dress and her calves and ankles appeared to glide as she made her way across the street, now empty, as the Uber sped away. She happened to look up at her apartment and did a double take, squinting hard to be sure of what she was seeing. In the window of her apartment, several floors up, she could see her boyfriend standing shirtless just staring into space. She watched him for a moment and then shook her head in sad amusement as he began to flex his muscles. Though it was dark, she could still make out his cocksure expression as he flaunted his body. As she reached for the double doors to her building she caught her own reflection and, surprised by how feminine and graceful she looked, an idea popped into her head. Quickly, she keyed in her code, skipped past the elevators and raced up the stairwell. In her haste she nearly stumbled up the last flight but caught herself against the cold handrail. At the door leading into her unit’s hallway she attempted to gathered herself. She was breathing hard and suddenly felt the need to tear off the bra she was wearing which now felt like it had a stranglehold on her chest. Instead, she forced her breathing to slow and smoothed out her dress so that it clung to every curve, just as it had all evening. Wine with the girls was fun, Rebecca thought, but it sure can do a number on you. She chided herself for wasting time but knew she needed a clear head for what loomed ahead.

A flicker of light caught the corner of Ryan’s eye as he stood at the window. He looked past his reflection and caught sight of his girlfriend peeking slowly around the corner of the small alcove that served as an entry to the apartment. He pretended not to notice as she slid her purse off her shoulder and onto the ground silently before creeping softly toward him. Keeping his eyes from going large at the sight of her in that sexy, slinky black dress was difficult but he managed hold them as they were. He could see immediately what was on her mind as she drew closer and weighed his options carefully. He only had mere seconds to decide his fate. He could turn and greet her, which would result in her knee buried between his legs, or he could step aside at the last moment and avoid her onrushing foot. The latter would be his least painful option in the present but he knew he would pay much worse later on for dashing her plans. In the end he decided to let Rebecca have her fun. He raised his head and pretended to stare into the distance though he kept his eyes locked on his impending doom. He saw the feral gleam in her eye as her right foot drew back, a flash of crimson reaching up toward the sky. He saw the haughty, victorious smile spreading across her red painted lips and felt the sudden urge to abandon his plans and take her mouth in his. The crimson blur flashed again as her leg sped forward. Ryan closed his eyes.

As Rebecca crept stealthily, like a cat on the hunt, she couldn’t help but admire her boyfriend’s lithe body. He wasn’t overly muscled but the ones he did have were in all the right places and were only amplified by his leanness. She liked that his muscles were strong and not just for show. And his butt, she thought, it always looked so cute in those old khakis. She imagined his firm hands on her body, how she felt so safe and small in his arms. He was so strong. The image of his washboard abs and broad shoulders as he flexed high above her flashed in Rebecca’s mind. But he was also so weak, she thought, and now she licked her lips at the thought of exposing his vulnerability as he still preened, or so she imagined, at the window. She took one last look at him standing so tall, like a lone oak on a hillside, and then she brought him crashing down.

Small stars burst in the darkness of Ryan’s lidded eyes, popping like corn on a hot griddle in some spots and streaming like tiny comets in others. Gravity disappeared and for a moment he felt like he was drifting in space as his universe dislocated. A sharp, jagged pain ripped through him and sent his world spinning. The effect was dizzying and a feeling of nausea welled up from within. As he crumbled to the ground he could only rue his decision to not step aside. But it was a fleeting lamentation as the pain soon took over every corner of his mind. His belly burned while searing streaks of hot lightning tormented his nerves as they screamed up and down his body causing it to tremble and quiver. Make it stop, dear god make it stop, he thought as he fell to his knees. But it did not. Instead, a new agony reared its head, even as the acute shooting pain slowly ebbed. It came in the form of a deep ache that gripped his abdomen and made his testes feel as if they might explode as the skin around them stretched tighter and tighter. He reached down and cradled his swelling testicles and then, with no strength or will remaining, he collapsed, face to the ground, and contemplated, in all seriousness, whether it could be any worse if he simply cut them off.

Though her balance wasn’t the greatest, thanks to the wine, Rebecca forced herself to focus and set herself well. Her left foot planted firmly and her right leg leveraged it perfectly as she swung it forward. Another nice thing about wine, she thought, as she delivered the blow, was that it reduced ones inhibitions, and in this case the inhibition to hold back. Free from the sober concerns of well-being, Rebecca used every ounce of strength and energy to kick his balls as hard as she possibly could. She wanted him to know that all the sexy, rippling, manly muscles in the world are no match against the well-placed kick of a woman. She grunted sweetly with delight as the top of her foot connected solidly with a force that lifted him off the ground and laughed inwardly as, from the corner of her eye, she saw his toes wiggling and straining involuntarily to maintain contact with the floor. He hovered momentarily and then dropped hard on his knees. In the reflection, Rebecca could see the shameful, injured grimace that so many women – and, yet, not nearly enough, she thought – have had the pleasure of witnessing through the ages, an expression fraught with genuine embarrassment, absolute misery, terrible self-loathing, and, of course, excruciating pain. It appears in one, and only one, situation, and every woman can identify it as the face a man makes when she’s kicked him squarely in the balls. And based on Ryan’s expression, Rebecca knew she had kicked him squarely. For a moment she doubted this when he froze on his knees, his muscles trembling, but after a few seconds he finally succumbed to the desperate need men have when this happens, which is to cradle their wounded manhood, and so he slumped to the ground holding himself. God, that was the best, wasn’t it, she thought. To see that pitiable face, so contorted and tortured, and to watch the futility of his efforts to ease the pain by cupping his testicles made Rebecca’s head swim with euphoria. Hating to miss even a second of his agony, Rebecca hurried over to her purse and grabbed her phone. She snapped a photo of him from above and then held the phone low to get a closer shot of his face. Then she flipped the camera and took a picture of herself standing over him with a wicked little grin on her face. The entire time, he just lay there, shaking and issuing the occasional low, guttural moan that sent shivers up Rebecca’s spine. His groans were always so manly and sounded oh so horribly wounded.

Slowly, and so much more slowly than Ryan would have preferred, the nausea-inducing, gut rending pain dissipated. However, the deep, heavy ache residing directly in his testicles remained unabated. He no longer felt like cutting them off and even scoffed inwardly at such a ridiculous notion. For a moment he wondered how long he’d been down but was quickly distracted by the sensation in his hands. His balls felt heavy, almost leaden and they were so swollen. He cupped them tighter, actually enjoying the weight of them. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he heard the chorus of AC/DC’s “Big Balls” playing and thought, me, I have big balls. Then the aching pain reasserted itself and he cursed under his breath. When that fresh wave ebbed, Ryan considered trying to stand but then decided to rest a bit longer, completely oblivious to Rebecca’s presence as she sat on the sofa watching him, until yet another wave of pain washed over him.

From across the room, Rebecca took in every facial tic, every spasm of his body as the pain hit him in cruel intervals, and, really, just the general helplessness he displayed all curled up with his hands in his groin. She loved every bit of disgrace and pain that wove its way through his expressions. In fact, it turned her on. She’d tried to tell him that once but he just couldn’t believe it. How had he phrased it? “Looking like a goddamn pussy isn’t ever attractive.” Ah, but that was just it, wasn’t it, she thought. He didn’t look like a pussy. He still looked strong with his square jaw and deep eyes, only now there was an element of pain and humility involved. He looked like he wished he wasn’t a man but also that he understood all too well he was and that this was his fate. The tension between wishing his masculinity away and accepting the consequences of his station in life played itself out marvelously on his features every single time, Rebecca thought. And that was sexy because she had caused it – and so easily. It was nothing to her, save for a small sting on her foot at the point of contact, to kick him in the balls. She could just turn and walk away, carry on with her day. They both knew that. But he was wrecked; maybe for a few minutes but maybe for a few days. Another groan leaked from her boyfriend and Rebecca had the idea that this time might be more in the few days category. She sure hoped so. It was so fun to watch him adjust his ordinarily deft and sure movements to cater to his swollen testicles. The way he limped along, sometimes holding onto her for support when a sudden jolt of pain would rack him, never failed to bring the memory of her busting him to the surface of her mind. She loved when other women would ask if he was okay and what had happened, the way he hemmed and hawed, looking utterly uncomfortable. She loved being able to whisper in his ear that he was two seconds from her firm knee between his legs and watching as he swallowed down his pride, saying, “Rebecca, uh, she, you know, um, kickedmeinthenuts.” She never understood why he mumbled that part. He had to know she would just pipe up and declare how she’d “kneed him right in the family jewels” or “kicked him really hard in the balls”, further adding to his embarrassment. The involuntary smile creeping onto her face as the pleasing memories drifted through her mind was sadly cut short when she saw Ryan begin to stir.

“Hello my hunk of a man.” Ryan heard the words before he saw Rebecca kneeling beside him. He was surprised to find she hadn’t changed out of her dress and into something more comfortable, but he was in no way disappointed. He took in the swell of her heavy bosom, now right at his eye level, and smiled weakly up at her. She took his head in her hands and kissed the top of it.

“I saw you preening at the window,” she said by way of, if not apology, explanation, “and I was filled with a sudden feminine lust.”

He looked at her quizzically and Rebecca saw that he had clearly misinterpreted her term.

“Oh, you looked all hot and macho, trust me,” she assured him, batting an eye coyly. “But it sparked not a craven lust of your hard body, but a more feminine desire to kick your balls into orbit.” She paused a beat. “And did I?” She asked, making her green eyes large and innocent.

He grunted half rankled and half amused. “See for yourself,” he offered before catching himself, “that is, if you got it all out of your system.”

“A girl can’t make promises, but,” she broke off and leaned in, kissing him deeply. “Maybe that will serve as my cover charge to view my handiwork?”

Without a word, Ryan slipped off his pants and hung his swollen testicles right in Rebecca’s face. She admired his bravado in the face of danger, but as much as it made her want to punch those heavy balls right out the window, she instead took them carefully in her hands.

“Wow,” Rebecca murmured softly and obviously in awe. “I really did get them good. They’re so big and round and shiny. Like, literally, glossy,” she said pointing at them as if Ryan couldn’t see with his own eyes how his sac looked. When he rolled his eyes at her, she squeezed, and he yelped even though it was a gentle squeeze. “Oooh, yeah, you must really be hurting.”

“Not gonna lie. I am. I sure wish I wasn’t and that you hadn’t kicked me because it’s a shame to waste the night with you looking so hot in that dress,” he said, a small glimmer of hope in his voice.

“Well, I’m not tired and it’s not that late,” Rebecca mused. “How about we just sit down for a minute?”

Ryan followed as Rebecca had already started pushing him to the sofa. He sat down quickly, but carefully, before she had a chance to push him down and unintentionally cause further damage. She plopped down next to him and he enjoyed the wobbliness of her breasts as she did.

She danced her fingers up his thigh slowly. “Relax and close your eyes,” she said with a twinkle. When he did she clenched her fist and drove it into his swollen balls. His eyes flew open and he screamed clawing desperately at his freshly ravaged testes, but Rebecca blocked his hands. Instead she pulled his head against her chest and stifled his screams with her breasts. She wrapped his flailing arms around her back and he latched on with more strength than she expected. Then she reached between his legs and cupped his big balls with a firm, but caring tenderness and cradled them for him.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she whis-purred, “I promise I’m done. I just want to hold them for you until they stop hurting.” She moved her palm over his balls with a light caress. He moaned into her deep cleavage but his legs relaxed. She could break his balls right now if she so desired. And what’s more, she thought, he knows I could break them and yet he’s trusting I won’t. A feeling of power washed all through her, sending tingles to every extremity and she smiled with delight.

He let her cradle his head against her soft, pillowy breasts and cradle his balls in her delicate and slender hand and she loved him all the more for it.

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