Sweet, Nurturing Callie (Part II)

[Joe S]

[Part I]

Part II

After dinner, a bottle of wine, and some more details about Callie’s work week – which provided Dylan a much clearer understanding of why she was in such a mood at the restaurant earlier – Dylan walked Callie back to her bedroom. He sat her down on the edge of the bed and then crawled behind her on his knees. Her back sank into him as he began to gently rub her shoulders and neck, deftly easing some of the tension pinching up her spine. She murmured softly in appreciation.

Dylan smiled to himself at his little ruse. Of course he was doing it to be nice. He was a sympathetic fellow, after all. But he also knew that the longer he massaged her, the more time his testicles had to recover from the knee she delivered earlier. And maybe, just maybe, it would loosen her up so that she would forget all about her strong desire, how did she put it? To kick him harder than any woman has ever kicked a man? He shuddered internally at the thought.  Ah, who was he kidding? Callie wasn’t one to pass on an opportunity to bust his balls, though in his heart of hearts, he hoped this back rub would quell some of her urge to bust them so hard.

So lost in thought was Dylan that he didn’t even realize his brain had stopped controlling the movements of his hands. He felt Callie slap them away as they caressed and squeezed the heavy globes of her breasts. She turned to him.

“Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” The glint in her eyes let Dylan know she was teasing him. She unbuttoned her blouse and stared down. “I suppose I’d do the same if I was you. They are pretty amazing.”

Dylan kept mum but definitely enjoyed his vantage.

“Why don’t you go over there,” Callie offered, pointing toward her closet, “and pick out something for me to wear?” As Dylan began to rise, she added, “Except for shoes. I get to pick those.”

Callie was surprised when he didn’t pick out one of her sexier lingerie numbers, instead tossing a white scoop neck blouse, a thigh length, pleated black skirt and white satin bra onto the bed. She arched an eyebrow at him as her eyes flicked toward the door.

“Oh no, I’m not going anywhere. I think I’ll just sit here and enjoy the show,” he said with a wink.

Thanks to the massage, Callie decided to give him just that. She wiggled her bottom, letting her business skirt slink to the ground before she made an exaggerated motion to bend over and pick it up, putting her round butt at his eye level. Before he could give a light slap, she wheeled around and tore open her blouse, sliding it off slowly before tossing it into his face. Then, with her back to him, she slipped off her bra and crossed her arms over her chest. Dipping down, careful not to give away the goodies, she plucked up the white bra and pulled it into place in one fluid motion.

At this point Dylan couldn’t stifle a laugh.

Callie looked down as soft flesh of her breasts spilled out of the bra. “What the?” She said with wide eyes.

“Gotcha,” Dylan chuckled. “I noticed that one was a smaller size than the others you have. Guess you’ll just have to squeeze ‘em in. I can help,” he offered, reaching out.

Once more Callie slapped his hands away. But she did make it a point to put her chest directly in front of his face as she stuffed, crammed and otherwise smushed things around until she’d situated her boobs into the cramped cups. She could practically feel the veins in her breasts pushing to the surface they were squeezed in so tightly. When she pulled on the scoop neck blouse she couldn’t help but be impressed with how firm her boobs felt. It was like she was twenty all over again. Callie made sure to give them a nice little bounce as she pulled on the skirt and Dylan clapped lightly in a show of appreciation.

Finally, there was the matter of shoes. Callie danced over to the closet and rummaged around for a minute, giving little whispers of commentary on the ballbusting assets of each pair, which Dylan pretended not to hear.

“This spike could put a hole right through one…”

“Mmm, love these…they’re wide enough to crush both of ‘em…”

“Oooh, these studs would leave some nasty marks…”

Unfortunately, hear them he did, and with each successive pair, the assets began sounding more and more destructive until he couldn’t take it. He scrubbed at his eyes hoping it would wipe the nervous fear from his mind. When he looked up, Callie was standing before him in a pair of platform heels, candy apple red. The platforms must’ve been two inches high, at least, because she towered over him as he sat on the bed. The toes were rounded but looked very unforgiving. The thick spike of the heels terrified Dylan, to say the least, and he involuntarily put a shielding hand over his groin while he took in her weapons of choice.

Callie bent at the waist and ran her hand down her silky shin, letting her fingers dance to the tips of her toes. She left one finger at the point of her big toe and looked up at Dylan. “I hope you approve. I think these little girls are going to do a smashing job, don’t you?” She smirked, obviously amused at her own joke.

Dylan stared for a moment at the shiny red toe of Callie’s shoe, trying hard not to imagine how much it would hurt when she drove it between his legs. His eyes drifted up, admiring the tawny curve of her calf, amazed by the way her heels made her legs appear to stretch into infinity. The sheer momentum they could generate might just kill him, he thought.

When Callie straightened and looked him dead in the eye, the gravity in her steely gaze sent slivers of electric fear through Dylan’s entire body. For a moment his vision blurred and he thought he was going to faint. The touch of Callie’s hand on his own brought everything back into focus and he let her pull him from the bed.

Leaning into him she whispered, “Are you ready?”

Dylan only swallowed hard fighting back panic.

Callie could feel the terror in him as his shoulders tensed and his jaw clenched. A pang of sympathy shot through her, a feeling similar to how she felt in the presence of an injured puppy yelping in helpless fury, wanting so desperately to be comforted. However, Dylan was no cute wounded puppy. Cute, yes. Wounded, not yet. No, he was a man. And as such, absolutely deserving of her hardest kick to his balls. The sympathetic twinge vanished as a fresh desire to kick him rushed through her like gushing water through a cracked dam.

An idea struck her. Without saying a word, Callie slid down the zipper of his pants and reached her hands into the fly of his boxer briefs. She heard him gasp as he tried to wriggle from her grip. “Stop it,” she commanded, and he did. She pulled his testicles through the hole of his fly and let them dangle free in all their glory. They hung heavy, stretching the skin of his scrotum into the shape of two perfect eggs. Callie put her palm under them and bounced them lightly, not bothering to hide her delight at how full they felt. Dylan caved slightly at the knees, the reaction innate, as he knew Callie didn’t bounce them hard enough to cause any pain. Actually, he rather enjoyed the sensation of his heavy testes straining in their pouch.

Callie jumped up. “Oooh, that’s perfect. Don’t move.”

Dylan remained with his knees flexed, but now sweat formed on his brow and he could feel it pooling underneath his arms as well. His breathes became heavy gasps as he felt the awful moment nearing.

With an appraising eye, Callie suggested, “Maybe push your pelvis forward just a little more?” When he did, she smiled. “That’s it. I think you’re ready now – at least I am, anyway.” Her taunting snicker sounded cruel in his ears.

When Callie lifted the red toe of her high heel and let his sac rest in the slightly upturned curve of its toe, so that it acted very much like a sling, Dylan had to fight to maintain his stance. Looking down at her foot between his legs, the sleek, sexy red heel radiating pure feminine sensuality, he could feel himself growing hard. A burst of testosterone shot through him. He was ready, he thought. Even though past experience had taught him otherwise, he still found himself thinking there was no way that petite little woman could possibly inflict enough pain to justify the ridiculous fear he felt just moments before. He drank in Callie’s swollen bosom, tracing the long line created by her cleavage before it disappeared into the curve of her shirt. He could practically feel her tender yet firm breasts in his hand, against his chest, maybe even surrounding his dick if he was lucky. Give it your best shot, Cal, he thought, I can take it.

A moment of surprise flicked into Callie’s eyes when Dylan’s face broke into a half smirk, half sneer. It quickly flared into outrage at his sudden display of machismo. His smirk widened as Callie’s face flushed and warmed, giving off heat like a steam radiator. Her eyes narrowed as she scowled at him. She gritted her teeth and balled her fists tightly.

We’ve all seen slow motion videos where tin cans, watermelons or even cars try to make a stand against a hydraulic press. There’s that one moment when the object seems to become jelly before it simply gives in and gives way, flattening down to a thin sliver under the force of the press.

When Callie drew back her leg in a high arc, thoughts of the force of a hydraulic press may not have been in her mind, but the desire to crush her man’s balls with all the strength she could muster certainly was. A slow motion replay would’ve revealed every last bit of torque she could summon displayed in the straining sinews and tendons of her right leg as it rocketed forward toward its target.

To say she kicked his balls hard, or even very hard, would be a grave injustice to womankind. Teeth rattled, spittle flew, tears formed, a harsh smacking sound echoed off the bedroom walls until it was replaced by anguished groans that sounded nearly inhuman. Dylan’s testicles, hanging heavily only moments before, were launched sky high and only the skin of his scrotum kept them from shooting out like peas from a pod. When the hard toe of Callie’s shiny red shoes connected, his testes went two-dimensional, flattening into ovals that no longer resembled the perfect bubble of an egg before finally returning from orbit where they bounced around like ping pong balls in a lottery tube.

Ecstasy roared through every inch of Callie’s body as her foot smashed his balls. There was no drug that could provide such a powerful high, she would later reflect. But it was his visceral, animalistic moaning, the way he clutched so desperately at his groin in a vain attempt to block the pain, a pain that increased a hundred fold with every passing millisecond, like a knife being slowly twisted, until his legs could longer bear it, and the way he dropped to his knees that really excited her. The physical manifestations of the internal anguish he was suffering kindled a fiery glee in Callie that burned brightly in her glinting eyes and brought rosy color to her cheeks. It would not be hyperbole to say that angels have never appeared more beautiful.

When Dylan collapsed into the fetal position, rocking back and forth at Callie’s feet, she almost couldn’t stand the powerful swell of female pride that came with crushing a man’s balls, sending him into an unimaginable agony that she would never have to feel but that every one of his ilk should taste at least once in his life. The powerful rush of emotion made Callie lightheaded and euphoric and her own muscles quivered, though with delight instead of anguish. She leaned back against the dresser and let the euphoria wash over her as she watched Dylan wrestle with his pain.

If Dylan regretted his bravado, we’ll never know. A split second after Callie’s foot connected between his legs a jolt of searing, knifing pain shot up his spine rendering him nearly senseless. So intense was the pain that he didn’t even register the sharp rap of his knees on the floor, as he lacked any ability to control his body in a way that would cushion his fall. Involuntarily, his body curled up and rocked gently to and fro. Stars floated and left scattering trails against the back of his eyelids as he squeezed them shut, standing out like bolts of lightning in the darkness of his anguish. Though he never lost consciousness, he wanted to, much like a sober drunk thirsts for the burn of hard liquor. Time became elastic as he waited for the pain to abate. Five minutes passed like an eternity and yet seemed inconceivably fast to Dylan when he was finally able to open his eyes.

Callie’s shape was dark and fuzzy, like a grainy photo of a UFO sighting as he tried to look up at her. He had to blink several times before she came into focus. When she did, Dylan saw that she was watching him intently. He thought maybe it was the after effects from the pain that interfered with his ability to decipher her frame of mind. Her closed mouth smile was almost icy and precise, the look of a mastermind whose plan was followed to perfection. And yet, her eyes betrayed a warmth that spoke of deep sympathy usually worn by a friend helping out in a difficult time.

“Welcome back,” Callie said, kindly, noting the confusion swimming in his eyes. “She knelt down beside him and ruffled his hair softly.  The tenderness of her touch shocked his system even further and he couldn’t help himself from offering up a feeble smile. “Oh good,” she purred, returning his smile, “I’m glad to see you can still smile. After all that howling and yowling, grunting and cursing, I thought maybe I’d kicked all the joy right out of you.”

He shook his head, unsure of his voice and ability to speak.

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” she offered, patting lightly at the back of hands which still cradled his aching package, “I’m probably happy enough for the both of us. I can’t tell you how great it felt to kick your balls sooo hard.” Callie sighed, the contented sigh of one whose job was done and done well. “I’ll be damned if that wasn’t the hardest kick a woman has ever given a man. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Dylan simply closed his eyes and let his head drop back to the ground as Callie laughed sweetly.

[CC]

Another excellent installment.  Just so I have my universe correct, this Dylan met Cheryl and Denise from the other story correct?  Also, is this a different universe from the Rebecca/Ryan saga? 

[Joe S]

It's a singular universe evidently. They all live in the same area. Dylan did meet Cheryl and Denise. He and Callie also saw Rebecca and Ryan but didn't actually meet them. Maybe one day they'll all meet up if I get stupid, lol.

[CC]

I actually didn't catch the Rebecca/Ryan cameo at all, but I guess you've described her before with "raven locks".  I think I just assumed you had a preference ;)

Anyways, I guess Dylan is a little unlucky on the timing of meeting Cheryl/Denise or Denise might have participated as well, lol.

Either way, I gotta find out what town they all live in and move there...

[Sophie Lucas]

Great addition to the story!