My first bust

[Brendah Moore]

Would you like to hear about my first bust?

We bust for all sorts of reasons: self-defence, amusement, empowerment, arousal. For me nowadays busting is about sex. I bust because I am aroused, and busting makes me more aroused, and then I have to fuck. I can fuck without busting but not bust without fucking. But it wasn’t always like that. My first time was different, it wasn’t connected with sex, well not directly. It happened when I was at university in the early 1970s, but I need to go back before that to put you in the picture.

My first physical arousal happened at a school soccer match when I saw one of the players slide in the mud and wrap his nuts around a corner post. I can still see the look of panic on his face when he realised that his exposed crotch was heading straight for the post, and hear his howl of agony when his nuts made contact. After that, I knew that seeing a guy getting busted really turned me on. Sport provided the best chance to see it happen in those days, so I became an avid fan, much to my family’s surprise. They thought I was interested in soccer, cricket and of course wrestling, but I was only waiting to see a guy get busted. I’m still a big fan of wrestling busts, even if they are mostly fakes.

Despite finding busting arousing, it never occurred to me to bust anyone. That only happened when I was at university. I met this guy, James, in freshers’ week and we hit it off right away. He was trying to get me to join the theatre club and when I refused he asked me out for a drink later. I went, although it wasn’t his acting ability that attracted me, it was his body. He was a rugby player with the broad chest, strong arms and muscular thighs of a forward. After a few drinks, he asked me back to his flat and naturally I went. Add stamina to my previous list of his attributes. By the next morning, his cock was swollen and my lips were sore. After that, we spent a lot of time together. We did things together but we weren’t a couple and spent a lot of time with other friends as well. I had no illusions about him; he would fuck anything in a skirt and I didn’t spend my time knitting when he wasn’t around. I was happy with the arrangement, that is until I heard that he was getting very close to Mary, who was one of my best friends at the time. Then I felt betrayed. He didn’t understand why I was making such a fuss and we had several big rows about it. I shouted and raved, even threw a few things at him, but we carried on as before and it still didn’t occur to me to bust him for it.

That didn’t happen until I saw them together at a party. They were standing chatting at the bottom of a lawn, right up close and touching each other. There were lots of other people around, but as soon as I saw them it was as if I were staring down a tunnel. As I stormed down the slope towards them, it seemed like there was a mist concealing everything and everyone else. My only feeling was intense anger, but even as I started running there was no plan in my head of what I would do when I reached them.

The image that I have of the actual bust is in slow motion. James must have caught a glimpse of me out of the corner of his eye, because he turned towards me, casually like he was going to say hello and invite me to join them. He didn’t show any sign of noticing when my foot lashed out straight at his groin. I heard a thud and, for the first time in my life, I experienced the feeling of delivering physical pain as I my foot forced its way between those perfectly muscled thighs and lifted his nicely balanced pair of cleanly shave balls and crushed them into his crotch. I shuddered to a halt and all was silence. Everyone must have stopped what they were doing to watch what was happening. He just stood there, stock still for what seemed like ages but could only have been a few seconds. Then he clutched at his tackle and jack-knifed to the ground, writhing around, moaning and groaning. I stood over him, savouring what I had done. Thrilled at the humiliation I had inflicted on this guy who was so proud of his physical prowess and who had been cut down, displaying his weakness for everyone to see. Thinking of Mary’s embarrassment at seeing this stud reduced to a quivering wreck. And satisfied that he wouldn’t be pleasuring her that night.

The last thing I saw as I turned and walked away was Mary kneeling beside him. I didn’t know at the time what happened after I left and I didn’t care, still don’t care. Apparently, he was taken to hospital but he and Mary married and had a family, so I guess I didn’t cause any permanent damage.

So why did I do it? I was an intelligent, articulate girl who suddenly, for the first time in her life, lashed out with physical violence. It wasn’t for the pleasure. I didn’t get aroused as I did it, although I get aroused now reliving it. I’m getting aroused writing this, thinking about the pain he suffered, the humiliation of being reduced to a heap on the ground in front of Mary, the embarrassment of explaining what had happened when he was at the hospital. For a long time, I thought it was just a natural and instinctive response to my boyfriend’s failure to understand the intensity of my feelings. Lots of girls have the same experience; you’ll find plenty in profiles on this site. The way I see it is that there are times when we simply can’t communicate sufficiently with words. Our language just can’t convey the intensity of our feelings. And what is more intense than feeling betrayed by a lover, someone we have allowed to do the most personal things imaginable. When they don’t or can’t understand what we are saying to them and how we feel, we switch into another form of communication. At this most intense moment, we want to hurt them the most we can in order to convey how we are hurting inside. Probably, there was a desire there to hit him where he had betrayed me.

But recently I’ve realised that this wasn’t the reason at all. I wasn’t angry with James. Like I’ve said, I didn’t care about him sleeping around. The person I was angry with was Mary, my friend. She was the one I felt had betrayed me and she was the one I wanted to hurt. What I should have done was bust her, force my foot between her smooth thighs, crush her pussy with a hard kick, and have the pleasure of seeing her crumple at my feet. Now that thought is really arousing.

[Huevos Estrellados]

WOW, brendah, you write so well, you can write BB novels. You have the hability to bring the readers into the history as if they were watching the scene in real time.

I really like when you wrote: "What I should have done was bust her, force my foot between her smooth thighs, crush her pussy with a hard kick, and have the pleasure of seeing her crumple at my feet. Now that though is reaally arousing". I think thats would be so so so embarrassment for her, because, would you agree with me: theres nothing more embarrassment for a woman than to be hurted in her vulva in public.

 

[Used]

This is such a  well written story/memory and is written so vividly I can really imagine the satisfaction you must have felt. I particularly like the section: I stood over him, savouring what I had done. Thrilled at the humiliation I had inflicted on this guy who was so proud of his physical prowess and who had been cut down, displaying his weakness for everyone to see. Thinking of Mary’s embarrassment at seeing this stud reduced to a quivering wreck. And satisfied that he wouldn’t be pleasuring her that night." :-)

[Ballistic]

You are indeed a articulate woman. Your description of your power and subsequent arousal cuts right to the male vulnerabilty.... just like a crushing blow itself. So consider yourself having accomplished your mission here. I for one am crushed. 

 

[Rippie]

I like the passion you feel about this. It has obviously become a precious memory for you, and I think I speak for many other when I say, I wish I could have been there to see it!

[giordy]

Hey nice story, well written ;-).