A Cozy & Cheerful Ballbusting & Cbusting Social Network
This guy I have been seeing, I wouldn’t call him a boyfriend. A boy toy I share emotions with, perhaps. He knows what turns me on, it scares him. I let him read some of my material, and take glimpses into my head. His breathing intensifies whenever I go near his testicles, be it my hands, my mouth, hips or legs.
He told me it’s more so intense because he knows that I know what I can do to him through them, what I have done. I have made him wet himself sexually just by massaging his testes, my fingers gently feeling every fine detail of his sperm factories.
It doesn’t bring him joy, the pain; but the fear that courses through him. It has given us such great sex, the insatiable itch his intensity gives me. He recently took me on. He insists I’ve only nutted guys because I took them by surprise. He’s not entirely wrong, but I stuck to my version that testicles are homing magnets to my feet. Soft, squicky, magnets.
He overpowered me with his mass quickly and I was on my back, I maintained that I was the bane of his reproductive health and realised he was over me with his thighs wide open.
“So, I can do whatever I can to beat you as long as I don’t use a weapon or scratch at your eyes?”
“Are you certain you want to risk being on the receiving end of a full force kick in the testicles?”
Like clockwork, I swung my knee up and right into his juice factories.
Nostalgia flooded me. I know he had been hit in the nuts before, but by bicycle hiccups or sport knocks. Nothing like the full force of a woman who knew what she was doing. I slowly lowered my knee, faking a shocked reaction as I slowly raised my hand to cover my mouth as femininely as I could, as if to mock his acutely male pain. I slowly shook my head and did my best to make cute, innocent faces, as his left hand slowly moved towards the core of his reproductive system, his body slowly squirming off me, rolling over once he met the mattress into a fetal position.
I got up and feigned concern, asking him questions I know would shake him up.
“Did I get you in the testicles?”
“Looks like we won’t be having to waste money on condoms anymore.”
“You poor thing, I hit you in such a sensitive area. You must be in so, so, so much pain.”
His face was scrunched up, as he rocked back and forth like all the boys do. Clearly, this was the first serious hit in the reproductive organs he has ever taken.
Something wasn’t right.
He was dry heaving profusely, and he gave me a pleading look. His breathing was raggedy, and he was trembling. Something was wrong, and I pulled his boxer briefs off to examine him. One of his testicles was swelling by the second, and slightly darker than it’s brother. By the time we got on the ambulance, I could tell it was nearly double in size.
He nearly lost that testicle.
I had to contain myself, as I waited outside the examination room. He was gibbering so much they let me in, as he gripped my hand ever so tightly as the urologist felt around his scrotum. I used a bit too much force and he had bad luck; that my bare kneecap had hit him so accurately that it caused a inflammation in the blood vessels in his scrotum that he got a hydrocele.
I spent the night at the hospital, while he laid in his ward with one leg suspended in the air, tranquillised with painkillers. A surgery would risk him losing that testicle, while the injury was this fresh.
Tonight, his left testicle remains heavier and hangs lower than his other. It causes him discomfort and heightened sensitivity from the weight, and the pain grows with the swelling which shifts with the weather.