Date: Sun, 25 Jan 2015 20:13:56 +0000 (UTC)
From: B - <ben751a@yahoo.com>
Subject: Blow Jobs and Ball Busting

My boyfriend had just finished pumping a generous helping of his delicious
cum down my throat, and was still breathing hard. It wasn't quite as large
a load as the one he had fed me that morning, but there was still plenty of
it. My favorite snack.

"Did you figure out the math problem you were working on?" he asked. I had
to laugh. Just that morning, after I had finished giving him his regular
wake-up blowjob, he had wondered aloud how much of his jizz I had swallowed
in the time we've been together.

"I'll get back to you on that," I said. It was coming up on our one year
anniversary, and I had been starting to wonder about that very thing
myself. There is nothing Rob likes better than getting his cock sucked. And
there is nothing I love more than sucking cock. It's a match made in
heaven. He also fucks me regularly, probably three or four times a week.
But in addition to that I usually suck him off at least twice a day. He is
probably the horniest guy I've ever met, and I love that about him. One of
the many, many things I love about him.

One of the other things I love about him is his enormous cock. Completely
flaccid it is bigger than I am when I'm hard. And I'm not small. Fully
erect, my cock is a little over seven inches long, and quite thick - more
than five inches in circumference. Rob is easily that big when soft,
probably a little bigger, in fact. When hard, he grows to over nine inches,
and slightly more than six inches around, with a nice fat mushroom head
that I love to feel with my lips and tongue.

Rob knows how much I like looking at his big dick, too, and is not shy
about showing it off. He has a beautiful body, to boot. There aren't many
men who look as good naked as he does, and he is very comfortable without
clothes. When we're home alone he is usually naked at least half the time.
Sometimes, if the weather is cold and it's a bit chilly in the apartment,
he'll wear white athletic sox and a sweater, but nothing else. He is very
considerate about not obstructing my view.

When we have company, or when we go out, he'll usually wear something that
shows off his big bulge, which, honestly, isn't easy to hide no matter what
he's wearing. All this keeps me in a near constant state of hunger for that
fat sausage between his legs. A hunger he is always glad to satisfy.
Occasionally there might be a day or two during the course of a week when I
only get to blow him once. But we usually make up for that on the weekends.
On a rainy Saturday or Sunday, when we have no place special we need to go,
I've been known to give him five or six blowjobs before day's end.

"Actually," I said, "I do have an answer. And I think you'll be amazed. I
had to check my math three times before I could believe it myself."

He gave me a quizzical look, and then I continued. "I figure that over the
course of the last year I've probably blown you an average of twice a
day. Does that sound about right?"

He acknowledged that it did.

"And you're a heavy shooter. I'd have to estimate about a tablespoon per
ejaculation. Sometimes a little less, but often more. And sometimes much
more."

That might not sound like a huge amount, but most men shoot a teaspoon or
less. A tablespoon is a lot of spooge.

"Go on," he said, with that wicked grin of his beginning to creep across
his face.

"There are sixty-four tablespoons in a quart. I looked it up. So averaging
two loads a day comes to roughly a full quart of jizz per month. Over the
course of a year, that makes three gallons."

"Holy fuck!" he said, as shocked as I had been. Then he gave me that evil
fucking grin and said, "Would you like to make it three gallons and a
tablespoon?" I was on my knees in about two seconds.

Later that night, after he had finished fucking me silly, he said, "I want
to ask you something, but promise you won't be mad."

"You can always ask me anything," I said. "You know that. What is it?"

"I've been having this fantasy lately," he said. "I think it would be hot
to watch you blow someone else. Is that weird?"

"No, actually. Not at all. I think that would be hot, too. Not that you
don't satisfy me completely. I think I'm about as sexually satisfied as
it's possible to get. But I do think it would be hot to blow someone else
in front of you, knowing that I was doing it because you wanted me to."

"What if it were more than one guy?" he asked.

"One of my all time hottest fantasies," I said, "which I've never told
anyone about before, is to service a roomful of guys. To be a complete cock
whore for a night - like I had been invited to this gathering for one
purpose only - to suck off anyone and everyone in the room for as long as
they wanted to keep going, knowing I had made a promise and had to keep it.

"Is that totally depraved?" I asked.

"Actually," he said, "I think that's the hottest thing I've ever heard."

Yawning and half asleep already, I told him, "I can't tell you how many
times I've jerked off to that fantasy." We were both asleep a few minutes
after that, and the subject didn't come up again for a while.

A week or so later it occurred to me that my birthday was coming up, and I
thought it was strange that we didn't seem to be making any plans. "Let's
just have a quiet night at home naked," he said. That sounded good to
me. That always sounds good to me. But on the morning of my birthday he
said, "I have a surprise for you later tonight. We're going out."

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"That's the surprise part," he said, "but I want you to wear your leather
chaps with just a jock underneath, and your harness and collar. You can
wear your trench coat to keep your ass covered till we get there."

This outfit is what he had given me for my previous birthday, and I had
worn it only a few times when we were home alone. No one else had ever seen
me in it. But wearing it felt incredibly sexy. The glove-soft leather made
me feel like I was being caressed every time I moved. And each time I wore
it Rob told me repeatedly how hot I looked in it.

"Your time with that personal trainer has really paid off," he had said,
admiring the way my chest and abs looked beneath the black leather harness,
with its big metal rings and buckles. "And your big balls make a really
obscene bulge in that jock." He always says the sweetest things. But he was
right. I looked in the mirror and I have to say I liked the way I looked. I
have a nice sized cock - on the large size but not huge. But I have
unusually big, heavy, low-hanging nuts that make for an impressive bulge
when I wear anything tight, like speedos, or a jock, or even tight jeans.

"So where are we going?" I said again when we were in the car.

"You'll see," was all he said. But we were headed downtown, and I had
feeling I knew. I was not disappointed.

The Manhole was the raunchiest leather bar in town. I had never been there
before, but had heard stories. Rob found a parking spot right near the
door, and he told me to leave my coat in the car. No one in this
neighborhood would think there was anything very strange about my outfit.

Once inside, we sat at the bar and ordered drinks. The place was obviously
popular, and there were a lot of hot looking men in there. Rob looked
wonderful in his tight leather jeans that did nothing to hide the thick
piece of meat snaking down one leg, and an unbuttoned leather vest that
highlighted his smooth muscular chest. I could feel eyes on both of us, but
then Rob did something to change that dynamic slightly.

"I have a little present for you," he said, handing me a small, flat
box. "Happy birthday."

Inside were a pair of identical small signs, with large, very legible gold
letters stamped on supple black leather, that read, simply, "Cocksucker." I
could only laugh out loud as he fastened them to my chest harness - one in
front and one in back. Suddenly I could feel the room's attention shift,
and there were suddenly many pairs of eyes looking directly at me. My
fantasy, I realized, was about to come true.

"Hope you're hungry, babe" Rob said with a leer and a wink.

"Always," I said, and kissed him deeply on the mouth. I knew we were
drawing attention.

After a few minutes of making out at the bar, Rob said, "Follow me," and
walked over to an empty table near the back of the room. "Why don't you
start by sucking me a little, just to show off your talents. I think it
won't be long before guys are waiting in line.

With that, Rob unbuttoned his leather jeans, hauled out his giant sausage,
and sat on the edge of the table. He motioned me to sit in a chair that he
now straddled with his legs. As I sat down he put a hand on the back of my
head and pushed me down. In no time his cock was halfway down my throat,
and growing. Within five minutes we had a small audience, which was growing
steadily.

Rob pulled me off his cock and said, "You can have mine anytime, birthday
boy. Who's next?" My heart began to pound. It was really happening.

You could see that several of the guys who had been standing around
watching were a little unsure of who should start. But then a big bearish
type stepped right up to me and said, "On your knees, cocksucker." He
glanced up at Rob, who nodded and smiled. The man had figured out who was
in charge here, and he knew it wasn't me.

"I got a nice birthday present for you, cocksucker," he said. He must have
overheard our conversation at the bar. "All you have to do is unwrap it and
get to work."

Kneeling before him, I pressed my face into his bulging crotch and inhaled.
Then I unzipped his pants and pushed them down around his ankles. He wasn't
wearing any underwear, and his thick cock popped right up. It wasn't
unusually long, but it was extremely thick, a real beer can cock, with a
fat mushroom head. In no time my nose was pressed against his pubes, with
his cock completely encased in my mouth. I started to suck, and moved my
tongue all around the underside of his dick. Already, I was lost in my
task. I was aware we were being watched, but just barely. My mind was fully
occupied, marveling at how wide apart my lips were as they encircled the
base of fat cock.

Within a few minutes the guy said, "I really need to cum. It's been five
days, so get ready." Almost as soon as he said that I could feel his cock
pulse, and then jets of thick, white nectar began pouring into my mouth as
he grunted in pleasure. He wasn't kidding. It was a very big load - strong
tasting and a little bitter, but delicious nonetheless.

When I looked up I was shocked to see there were now a dozen guys standing
around me in a circle, watching. I pulled myself up into a chair to catch
my breath, but within half a minute another cock was pressed against my
lips. I looked up to see the handsome face of a well-built young guy,
probably in his twenties. He had unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock and
balls out through the fly. Boy, did that look appetizing.

I glanced up at Rob to make sure he was still okay with all this. It was
obvious that he was. "What are you looking at me for?" he said. "That cock
looks like it's about to burst. And," he added, loud enough for everyone to
hear, "we're not going home until you've sucked off everyone here who wants
a blow job." Something told me this was going to take a while. The crowd
around me had grown just in the last few minutes.

I turned back to the boy and opened my mouth. He placed his hands on either
side of my face to hold my head still, and then he began fucking my mouth
with long, deep strokes. He had a nice, slightly above average size cock
that drooled a constant stream of precum. I love that — sweet, syrupy,
and delicious. He pushed his cock all the way into my mouth and it just
reached the entrance of my throat, but no farther. I worked it with my
tongue and could feel the guy getting more and more excited. Finally, he
pushed my head as far into his crotch as it would go and held it there. His
body went rigid, and then his dick began to spew. It was sweet and thick,
and I gulped it right down, nursing on his cock for a minute or two
afterwards until he withdrew.

Almost immediately there was another cock pushing its way through my
lips. I looked up into the eyes of a nice looking black guy, in his
mid-forties I would guess. He had his shirt off, and you could see he had a
real nice body. And he had the quintessential BBC, long, thick, and uncut,
with a pair of heavy hangers that I held in my hands, fondling them, as
inch by inch, his cock made its way into my mouth, and kept pushing until
it was as far down my throat as it could reach. He held it there, not
moving much, while I massaged this heavenly piece of meat with the muscles
of my throat. From his loud moaning I could tell he loved this. And he
barely moved - sliding in and out no more than an inch each way, letting my
throat massage do most of the work. Sucking this cock was more like being
intubated than throat fucked — which I totally loved. I could just
barely breathe, but I managed to position myself so enough air made its way
past the intruder that I could keep this monster all the way down for as
long as its owner wanted. I have no idea how long it was — it could have
been five minutes or an hour — I had lost all sense of time. But after a
while he began to pump in and out more actively, and I could hear his
breathing getting faster. Gradually he pulled his cock out of my throat,
leaving just a couple of inches in my mouth, with the head resting on my
tongue. And then he began to shoot. And shoot. And shoot. It was a torrent
of cum - more even than Rob's biggest loads - and I could feel it squirting
against my tongue like a super-soaker water gun.

When he finally finished cumming I continued to nurse on his cock as it
gradually deflated. I could have happily kept that hunk of dark meat in my
mouth for another hour, but soon — too soon — he pulled out
completely, and said, "Nice blow job, cocksucker." If there is one thing I
excel at it's sucking cock. I take pride in my skills and I love being
complimented on it. So I felt a wave of pride as I stood up to stretch and
catch my breath.

Part Two

I was still enjoying the delicious load of cum that had just been deposited
in my mouth, rolling it around with my tongue and swallowing it a little at
a time to prolong the pleasure, when Rob said, "Let's try something
slightly different."

He had me lay on my back on the bar table with my head hanging off the edge
— the perfect position for throat fucking. My feet protruded off the
opposite side of the table, and Rob placed his hands on my legs and shifted
me around until he was satisfied with how he wanted me. I lifted my head
for a minute to look around. There were about fifteen or more guys standing
around us, looking down at me. I could also see that, laying there on the
table like that, my bulging jock offered up an almost obscene mound to the
view of one and all, the stretchy ribbed fabric of the jock clinging to
every contour of my hard cock and heavy balls.

Letting my head fall back again, I was immediately confronted with another
hard cock pressed against my lips, waiting to gain access. I opened my
mouth and it slipped right in. It was nice and thick, with a big mushroom
head which I loved sucking on and running my tongue around the ridge. But I
was only allowed that particular pleasure for a minute, because the cock
continued pushing forward. At this angle, my oral cavity was perfectly
aligned with my throat, and the cock slipped easily into my esophagus. The
cock slid in and out for only a couple of minutes, and then I heard its
owner say, "Oh fuck, that feels so good I can't hold back."

In the next instant my throat was flooded. I had to swallow repeatedly to
keep up with the flow of semen being pumped directly down my throat. So
fucking satisfying. I love getting throat fucked in this position. Which is
a good thing, because over the next two and a half hours that is exactly
what happened, over and over and over. I lost count after perhaps seven or
eight cocks had pumped their delicious nectar into my mouth and down my
throat. Fortunately, Rob kept count because he was aware I would want to
know. When we got home later that night he told me eighteen different guys
had fucked my throat while I lay there on the table, in full view of
everyone in the bar, to a chorus of appreciative and lewd comments from the
onlookers as well as the participants. And almost half of the eighteen
throat fuckers came back for seconds. Two of them, Rob said, came back for
thirds. No wonder my throat felt raw the next day.

But there was also another fantasy that got fulfilled simultaneously that
night — this one Rob's as much as it was mine.

As I lay on my back enjoying the virtually nonstop throat fucking, Rob came
around to my side and spoke quietly in my ear. "Babe, that looks so fucking
hot. I am so turned on right now. Do you know what I would love to do?"

Unable to speak with a throat full of hard cock, I thought a moment,
wondering what other thing Rob might want to do when he was so turned
on. And then it dawned on me. My eyes went wide, bulging out of my head,
and my whole body went rigid. I knew exactly what Rob wanted. And I knew it
was going to hurt. A lot. But I also knew that I had made a promise to
myself at the start of the evening, and I intended to keep it. I had told
myself that I would completely surrender my will this night, and do
whatever Rob asked, no matter what. Little by little I came to grips with
what was about to happen, and my body began to unclench.

I knew that Rob was watching my reaction closely, and could see the
resignation in my face. "Are you okay with that Babe?" he asked. I took a
deep breath — or at least as deep a breath as one can take with a
throbbing cock lodged deep in the throat — and gave a slight nod.

Rob moved back around to the other side of the table and shifted my
position so my body was closer to the edge. The cock in my throat paused
it's pumping action, but I could hear Rob say, "No, no, please don't
stop. I just want to amuse myself here at the other end."

As the throat fucking resumed, the next thing I felt was Rob's big strong
hands on my bulging jock. He squeezed and massaged, applying increasing
pressure, and then lifted the edge of the pouch, allowing my big nuts to
fall out. The ribbed fabric continued to hold my hard cock firmly in place,
but my balls now hung free.

"Look at the size of those nuts," someone in the crowd said, above a chorus
of general agreement.

Rob continued massaging my balls, squeezing more and more firmly, and then
pulling at the same time, stretching my sack as far as it would go. I could
feel the crowd's attention shift slightly, curious about Rob's plan for my
now exposed and vulnerable nuts.

He continued increasing the pressure on my balls, pressing his thumbs
deeper and deeper into them until an involuntary cry burst from my
throat. Not much sound came out, plugged as my throat was. But then the guy
fucking my throat said, "Oh my god, that felt amazing! Do that again!"

Again, Rob jammed his thumbs into my testicles, eliciting the same response
from me, as my back arched up with the sudden pain.

"Feels amazing, doesn't it," Rob said, "fucking a guy's throat while he's
shouting in pain? Well, don't worry. There's going to be a lot more of
that."

I groaned inwardly, thinking about the ordeal I was about to endure, but my
cock, rock-hard and throbbing, revealed my truest feelings. I was about to
endure a serious ball beating — fortunately with the delicious
distraction of sucking one cock after another. Still, it was going to
hurt. From experience I knew exactly how much. Or thought I did.

Now Rob began batting my balls around with his open hand, knocking them
from one side to the other with increasing force. The onlookers began
egging him on as they watched. I should admit here that I do actually like
having my balls roughed up. I like it a lot, in fact. Rob gives me a good
ball beating on a fairly regular basis. Most of the time he takes me right
to the edge of my comfort zone, and it's a completely erotic
experience. But sometimes he gets off on really hurting me, and at those
times my balls take a lot of abuse.

We have an understanding that when he really wants he can hurt my balls as
much as he wants, with the only boundary being anything that would require
medical attention afterwards. Those sessions leave me drained and weeping,
practically out of my mind from the nonstop pain, and sometimes my balls
hurt for days afterwards. But after he finishes beating the crap out of my
nuts he shows his tender side. He brings me ice packs and food and drink,
he sweetly nurses me back from the brink of madness, and tells me how much
he loves me for allowing him to do that.

"Harder," someone in the bar now said. "Hit those big nuts harder."

"Yeah," someone else said. "Give those bull balls a good thrashing."

Rob increased the intensity, batting my balls back and forth harder and
harder. The pain was beginning to build, but I could take it. I knew what
he was capable of, what he loved to do, and had done many times
before. Compared to that, the pain I was feeling now was nothing. And,
oddly enough, I was looking forward to what was coming.

Pausing, Rob leaned closer to my ear and said, "You doing okay Babe?" I
nodded. My boyfriend is the most considerate sadist I've ever met.

Returning to his earlier position, he gave my balls a good hard squeeze,
and then let them drop. He spread my legs farther apart, leaving my heavy
hangers completely exposed between my thighs.

"Leave your legs open for me," he said. "No covering up, no protecting
yourself. I want you to show these guys what you can take. Make me proud."

I have to admit, despite the feeling of sickening dread that was beginning
to sweep over me, I was also very turned on. And I truly did want to make
Rob proud, showing our little audience how much I can take, and how much I
am willing to let my boyfriend hurt me for his enjoyment.

Rob pulled his thickly muscled arm back, formed a tight fist, and slammed
it into my hanging nuts. A collective gasp arose from the onlookers as my
body stiffened, and the shout that escaped my throat came with enough force
to temporarily dislodge the hard cock which had been giving me an
energetic, balls-deep throat fucking.

"Oh fuck, that was amazing," I could hear a voice say, as the cock plunged
back down my open throat.

Rob was just getting started. What had looked like a brutal punch was, I
knew very well, only a warm-up. The hammer blows that now began to fall on
my balls grew in intensity and frequency, building up to a steady barrage,
and sending waves of pain deep into my groin.

I told myself the same story I often relied on when Rob would
simultaneously fuck my throat and torture my balls. Focusing on the
delicious intruder in my mouth, I would imagine that I was allowed to
continue sucking dick only as long as I could endure the ball beating. Thus
motivated, I would suck harder, relishing the wonderfully thick, hard but
yielding, warm and alive piece of meat I felt lucky to have in my mouth and
down my throat.

As i continued to suck one cock after another, drinking semen by the quart,
it seemed, the pain from Rob's unending ball beating grew. Now he was using
both fists, alternating from left to right. Rob is in tremendous shape, and
I knew he could keep this up for a long time without getting tired.

As the alternating blows smashed into my increasingly tender balls, it
began to feel almost like continuous pressure rather than individual
punches. The closest thing I can use to describe the sensation is something
perhaps you've noticed while listening to a symphony orchestra, when the
individual beats of the percussionist's mallets hitting the taut skin of
the tympani build into a steady drum roll, and instead of individual beats,
you now begin to hear, instead, a deep, sustained tone.

That's what Rob's incessant pummeling felt like — not individual blows,
but rather a sustained sense of the most unbelievable pressure, which felt
like it would never stop. The pain was beyond excruciating. The only thing
that kept me from screaming at the top of my lungs was the unending series
of hard cocks being shoved deep into my throat.

And then something clicked inside my head. Flooded with endorphins and all
sorts of other neurotransmitters that the nervous system pumps out in
response to physical stress, my brain began to experience this savage
beating not as pain at all, but as incredibly intense sexual
stimulation. It was not easy to take, but the more I gave myself over to it
the more I began to feel this was my new normal, and I found I could allow
myself to completely relax, letting the waves of pain/pleasure wash over
me, sending me into an entirely different state of consciousness.

Losing all track of time, I had no idea how long this went on. Time had
lost all its meaning. There was nothing but pure physical sensation
radiating from my white-hot nuts up into my groin, and throughout my entire
body. As this continued, each time one of the cocks I was sucking flooded
my mouth with thick, delicious semen, another wave of pure pleasure
radiated through my whole being.

But just as I began to feel I could continue taking this indefinitely, Rob
began pouring all of his considerable power into the beating. It felt like
the strength of his punches doubled. My body went rigid and I could hear a
high pitched shriek from somewhere nearby. It was several long seconds
before I could identify the source. It was coming from me.

Suddenly, it stopped. I no longer felt Rob's fists landing on my incredibly
sore nuts, but the waves of pain continued rushing over me. My balls
throbbed like I've never felt before. I was suffused with encompassing
agony, which was, mysteriously enough, also enormously satisfying.

The throat fucking had finally stopped as well. It seemed like everyone who
wanted a turn at my throat was thoroughly sated. A hush fell over the crowd
as they looked down at me in wonder. Little by little I began to regain my
bearings and catch my breath.

Then, as I returned to my senses, I heard Rob's voice again. At first I
thought I was hallucinating as he spoke. But then the reality of what he
said sunk in, and once again every nerve in my body snapped
attention. Instantly I recalled the other fantasy we had discussed a few
times, never imagining it was anything but pure fantasy. I new what was
coming next, and my blood went cold, as a new wave of sickening fear swept
over me.

Holding my swollen balls up for everyone to see, with his fist wrapped
around the neck of my scrotum, he said, "Who else wants a go at these?"

The dozen or so onlookers fell into a shocked silence. Then one voice said,
"That was a joke, right?"

"No," Rob said. "I haven't had my blow job yet, and I want to feel him
shouting while I fuck his throat. You don't mind babe, do you?"

I couldn't even speak, but pulling myself together as much as I could, I
looked up into his beautiful eyes and, after a long anguished pause, nodded
my assent. He beamed down at me with the most loving expression, and I
melted. He could do whatever he wanted to me.

Once again, he said to the group, "Come on now, don't be shy. Who wants to
wallop these big nuts? You can take turns. I want this to last for a while.

A young redhead, who had already fed me three loads of his spooge, stepped
up and said, "Actually, that did look like fun."

"Go on," Rob said. "Don't hold back. He can take it." Then Rob walked
around to my head, unzipped his leather jeans, and hauled out his big dick
— to appreciative murmurs from the crowd. I love sucking that cock so
much, I immediately opened wide to accept it, and felt it sliding across my
tongue and deep into my waiting throat.

As Rob began a slow fucking motion, the redhead gave my balls a few smacks,
afraid, I think, of hurting me too much.

"Harder," said Rob. "Much harder."

"How will I know if it's too much?" the kid asked.

"If he passes out, that will let us know it's too much. Otherwise keep
going, keep hitting harder and harder. If your arm gets tired maybe someone
else can take over. I want you guys to keep beating my boyfriend's big nuts
until I shoot my load.

The redhead started using his fists, first the left and then the right,
hitting my sore nuts over and over. It hurt, all right, but not compared to
what Rob had been dishing out. And after a few minutes I could tell Rob
wasn't getting what he wanted. I wasn't yet screaming.

"Okay, who's next?" Rob said.

One by one, three or four others stepped up to the mark and began pummeling
my bruised gonads. I was moaning from the pain, but also in a kind of
ecstasy, floating on waves of pain and pleasure that seemed to melt into
each other. It felt like hours, but Rob later told me it was only about
twenty minutes.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I could see a big bear of a guy who had
been one of the first to feed me his load. He was tall, probably six feet
four or five, and had the huge muscles of a competitive bodybuilder.

"You guys are a bunch of pussies," he said to the small group that had been
taking turns beating my balls. "Let me show you how a man does it."

His first punch was nearly as hard as the hardest ones Rob had dished out
earlier, and that was just the beginning. Little by little, each time his
massive fist connected with my nut sack, propelled by the enormous muscles
in his arms and back and shoulders, the impact was harder than the one
before. Soon he was hitting my nuts harder than they had ever been hit
before, and I was beginning to lose it, shouting my head off. I could feel
Rob getting exited, pumping his throbbing cock in and out of my throat with
increased force and speed. I was in agony, but loving it all the same.

Then the bodybuilder grabbed my nut sack in his fist, squeezing my aching
balls all the way to the end of my scrotum. I thought I would pass out from
the squeezing alone, but then, while holding my nuts in a vice grip with
his left hand, he began punching them mercilessly with his powerful right
hand. Now I was shrieking in sheer agony with each punch. I was sure my
nuts would burst any second.

Rob was going into overdrive, pounding my throat with such force I thought
I might end up with black eyes from his balls smashing into my eye sockets
with each stroke. Rob's breathing turned into a series of rapid grunts as I
screamed in pain. I was on the verge of losing consciousness when I heard
his voice, grunting out each word to the bodybuilder, "Don't stop. Don't
stop until I tell you."

At that the bodybuilder began hitting even harder. I was going mad from the
intensity of the beating. Then Rob's grunts became more urgent, and he let
out a loud cry as he unloaded a huge load into my throat, then pulled back
enough so that the rest of his jazz filled my mouth to overflowing. Just
then, the bodybuilder gave me a series of the hardest punches yet, and my
cock exploded, spewing cum over my chest and stomach, spurt after spurt,
several of them landing on my face.

A few more punches landed on my nuts as i was coming back to earth, but I
hardly felt them. Sometimes, after shooting a load at the end of a long
ball busting session, the brain is so flooded with endorphins that pain
barely registers. The ache returns after an hour or two when the endorphins
wear off. But Rob and I were home again by the time this happened.

We were having a nightcap and he could see me shifting uncomfortably.

"Feeling sore?" he asked.

"Oh man," I said, "my balls ache something fierce."

"Could you take more?" he asked.

More? I thought. Is he kidding? Rob could see the consternation on my face,
but he pressed the issue. "It's a special night," he said. "I think we
should end it on an appropriately intense note."

"That wasn't intense enough in the bar?" I asked.

"Almost," he admitted. "But there's still one more thing I want to do. It's
gonna hurt, naturally — but of course that's the whole idea, don't you
think?"

I didn't think it was possible for my nuts to hurt much more than they had
already been hurt this evening, so I figured, what the fuck. How much worse
could it be, whatever it was he wanted to do to me now.

"Alright," I said, knowing I would probably regret my words very
shortly. "What did you have in mind?"

"Do you promise to lay back and give me unrestricted access to those big
balls of yours?" he asked. "No matter what? I want this to be a birthday
you won't forget for a long time."

It was too late for me to back down. And now I was curious.

"Okay. They're yours. What do you want to do?" I knew I was fucked, but
what was I going to say? He knew I always gave in when he really wanted me
to.

"Go look in the closet by the back door," he said, "and bring me my
baseball bat."

He was right. There's no way I was ever going to forget this birthday.