It was a cold afternoon. I was home with my husband and son, who was 15 years old. Everyone was sipping on hot cocoa and enjoying the fire. I was still feeling cold, though, and I asked my son to throw a blanket over me. When he came by and threw the blanket over me I didn't notice him and reclined back. My foot hit him firmly in his right testicle; I could feel it clearly. My husband was in the kitchen and didn't hear the commotion. He hit the ground in pain and I immediately rose up to see if he was okay. I apologized profusely and helped him up. He said it was okay and limped back to his chair. We sat down as if nothing had happened. I noticed something though. I was so turned on! My son was in pain and what I really NEEDED to do was put him in more pain!
Over the next few months, whenever I had my son alone at home or outside, it didn't matter; I would somehow manage to rack his balls in creative ways. One time I busted him when we were in Sears shopping for back to school clothes. He was looking at some shirts just behind me and I "accidentally" dropped my purse. I reached down to pick it up and let my right leg swing up rather hard. The heel foot dug into the bottom of his balls. He squealed and hit the ground. I picked up the purse and turned around with a surprised look on my face. I touched his balls to make sure they weren't broken and apologized like crazy. He was all right and I continued on.
Another time, I busted him when we were outside by the pool. I was sweeping some grit off the side while he was using a skimmer on top of the pool to pick up leaves. Well, I swung the handle of the broom right through his legs with perfect aim. I totally missed everything but the two balls. The smack was very loud. He fell into the pool in pain. I once again helped him and checked his balls. I apologized as usual and we went on our way.
One night, I was in the mood for a bust and wandered into his room at night. He was asleep on the floor, which was a habit of his. His legs were spread out in front of me and he was wearing boxers. The hole in the boxers was wide open which showed his magnificent package. Great balls, large dick, he was everything a woman would want physically and I wanted to kick that package! I figured my excuse would be that I came in to make sure he was sleeping okay and tripped on something on the floor and kicked his balls accidentally. I started to approach him and as I did I tripped on something. I fell forward and extended my leg to catch myself. I landed firmly on his right ball, which produced a popping sound. He gurgled and looked like he fell into unconsciousness. I bent down and felt his sac. Oh my God! I burst one of his balls! We had to take him to an emergency room that night to have the pulpy mass removed. I was horrified by popping his ball at first but it was now an extreme turn on. I paid a nurse off so she would bring me the liquid that was once his testicle. She brought it to me in a jar with a smile and a wink. I immediately put it in my purse and we took my son home the next day.
He had to stay in bed for the next week. I amused myself by sneaking sips of the blood-cum that was in the jar for the next few days. It tasted bad, but just thinking how I burst it with the sole of my foot turned me on and then to think of ingesting what was left brought me to orgasm! Pretty soon, the jar was empty and I was bored. All I had was masturbation and that was wearing thin fast! I decided I was going to come out and tell my son about my fetish... but in my own special way. He was still at home in bed, not going to school. I called him out of his room since he could manage to hobble short distances. He reached the living room and I saw his shock when he saw me in black lingerie with black stockings and garters with no shoes lying on the couch. The soles of my feet were facing him. He asked, "Mom, what's going on?" I told him, "Son, I have a confession to make. You remember all the times I hurt your testicles? Well, I did it on purpose. I love to kick balls. Bursting your testicle was orgasmic for me. I'm afraid I need the other." I could see the horror in his eyes. He started to back away. I got up and since he was so slow from his ordeal I reached him very quickly. I shot my foot directly up into his crotch and that was the end of his second ball. I heard the pop again. I had no idea I'd be able to do it with just on kick. I orgasmed right then and there. He fainted. I tore open his stitches and extracted the pulp. I jarred it up for later. I knew I couldn't let anyone know about this. I put on some normal clothes and went out for a couple of hours. I knew my husband wouldn't be back until eleven at night because he had to work on a big project at work. When I came back from hours of shopping my son had died from loss of blood. I felt bad about my son's death, but I needed his ball.
The investigators assumed he'd wandered out of his room and slipped; hitting his head and ripping his stitches open, bleeding to death. Sounds like a good way to end some fun to me. Now I have to find more balls. I guess my husband will do, for a while anyway.