Christina and Logan (part 1)

By Logan

This is part one of the true story of my introduction to the BB fetish.

WARNING! THE "CHARACTERS" IN THIS STORY ARE 15 BECAUSE BOTH SHE AND I WERE 15 AT THE TIME IT HAPPENED. IF READING ABOUT TEENAGERS BOTHERS YOU, DO NOT READ THIS, AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, DO NOT TELL ME ABOUT IT.

Any and all other comments welcome. This is "part one" so let me know if you want to hear the rest of the story.

My introduction to ballbusting came at the hands (and feet!) of a girl named Christina when I was 15. She was my age, just a few months younger, and she had a reputation for liking to go for a guy’s balls pretty much at any opportunity. Since she and I were friends, she never had an excuse to go after mine, a fact that was much regretted by me.

We lived across town from each other, so anytime we got together, it had to be set up in advance. I won’t bore you with the details, but the long story short was we managed to arrange for me to spend a weekend at her house – this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, we were just friends, and had little interest in dating each other. Well – she had no interest in me; I had quite a bit of interest in her.

We went to her house after school, and got changed into more comfortable clothes, me into a t-shirt and athletic shorts, and she into short shorts and a tank top. Christina had been an “early bloomer” and had ample breasts (38DD I later learned) that she loved to tease guys with – not me, to my disappointment, but other guys, leaning over in front of them and the like. That was why it was such a shock to see her come out of her room in the tank top – around me, she always wore a bra and a t-shirt, at very least, so to see her in a tank top and very obviously no bra should have immediately tipped me off that something was up – should have. I was already on the couch, with my legs stretched out, and I expected her to go sit on the loveseat, but instead she flopped down on the other end of the couch, and we started looking for something to watch on TV. She would re-arrange herself on the couch every 2-3 minutes, obstinately trying to get more comfortable, but every time she did, I was treated to the sight of her breasts bouncing and jiggling. I was so enjoying the show that I didn’t think about how obvious my hard on must be through the thin fabric of my shorts until it was too late.

“What’s that?” she asked. I knew immediately what she was referring to, and was so embarrassed that I opted to play dumb.

“What’s what?” I asked, glancing around the room as if I was trying to see whatever it was she was asking about. I thought about trying to rearrange myself, but didn’t want to make my predicament any more apparent by trying to conceal it. Christina, however, did rearrange so that her feet were in front of her, between my legs, with her knees pressed to her chest.

“That,” she said.

“What?” I continued to play dumb.

“This!” She slammed her left heel into my hard-on, while using her right leg to keep my free leg from closing on the other (my right leg had been against the back cushions of the couch, with my left dangling off the couch onto the floor)

“Ooof!” I said, or grunts to that effect.

“Oh, you’re hard! And look at that!” she said, and I looked. Because of the way I was sitting, when her heel had hit my cock, it had pushed the fabric up as she dug her heel in, and my balls had fallen out of the right leg hole of my shorts. “Your balls are hanging out!” she giggled as she slammed the ball of her right foot into my exposed nuts, where she started pressing and grinding with both feet on their respective targets.

“Uh…errrrrgh…mmffffff,” was my pithy reply.

“I can’t believe you. You must have been sneaking looks at my tits. I didn’t know you were such a pervert! Watch TV,” she instructed, leaving her feet where they were, but ending the pushing and grinding.

“OK, ok – I’m sorry. Can you move your feet?”

“No.” And to emphasize it, she started pressing and grinding again for just a few seconds. I shut up, and tried to concentrate on watching TV. It wasn’t easy, because every so often, she’d grind her heel into my cock, or gas-pedal my balls, or grab at them with her toes and pull at them. For over 2 hours, she used her feet to torment my cock and balls in this way, as well as keeping my dick hard.

“What happens if your mom comes home from work and sees us like this?” I asked. Christina’s mom was a single mom – and attractive and built like her daughter.

“Mom’s out of town for the weekend – she’ll be back Monday,” she said with a little grin. “It’s just me...” She jabbed her heel into my cock. “…and you…” With a little kick to my balls for emphasis. “…all weekend.” And with that, she started alternating little kicks into my crotch. First she’d pull her left foot back a bit, then slam her heel into the mid-section of my cock, then she’d pull her right foot back and slam the ball of her foot into my balls. After 3-4 of each, I started hoping she’d get tired of this game soon. After 5 or 6, I started to move my hands to my crotch.

“Move your hands!” she commanded, and with that, she locked her knees so her legs were out straight. With her back braced again the arm of the couch she was leaning on, and my back against the other arm, quite a bit of pressure was being put on my tender parts by her feet. I quickly moved my hands and she went back to alternating kicks. By the time she got to 15 or so of the little double kicks, I was in agony.

“How long are you going to do that? It’s killing me!”

“It can’t be that bad” she said, locking her left knee, so that there was intense pressure on my cock “Your little dick is still all hard,” she said. I blushed. She locked her right knee, crushing my battered balls. Christina was much more experienced sexually then I was, so she was a lot more comfortable using certain words, like dick, in mixed company then I was. Knowing she was more experienced also meant that I believed her when she said it was little.

“Is there anything I can do to get you to stop?” I begged.

“Stop doing what? This?” she asked then launched a flurry of the little kicks, delivering 10 or 12 kicks with each of her feet before locking her knees back out straight.

“Yeah, that,” I groaned

“Hmmmm. Let’s see.” She pretended to think hard for a moment. “Well, I know that if you make a promise, I can trust you to keep it, so if you promise me that you’ll strip naked, and stay that way all weekend here, and that you’ll do everything I say without question, then I’ll stop for now.”

“That doesn’t seem like much of a deal! You might start again later!” I said, secretly loving the idea, but not wanting to seem like it.

“Well, it’s either that or I keep it up from now until I get tired, your choice,” she said with an ‘I’m playing hardball here’ tone in her voice.

“OK, fine, I’ll do it,” I sighed.

“Say you promise.”

“I promise”

“No, say ‘I promise I’ll stay here and naked all weekend, and do whatever Christina says.”

“I promise I’ll stay here and naked all weekend, and do whatever Christina says.”

“Even let me hit your balls if I feel like it.”

“Yes.”

“No, say it. Say ‘I promise I’ll even let Christina hit my dick or balls anytime she feels like it,” she insisted.

“I promise I’ll even let Christina hit my dick or balls anytime she feels like it,” I said, not realizing that she’d set me up to make a promise that extended to forever, rather then just the weekend, though I’d have happily made it even if she’d made it clear.

“OK!” she said, unlocking her knees. “Now close your eyes, and I’m going to kick those little nuts as hard as I can!” she said, pulling her right foot as far back as she could, using her left foot to keep my hard-on pinned back out of the way.

I affected a stricken, defeated look, sighed, and closed my eyes. But the kick never came.

“Nah, I’ll do that a lot, but later!” she tittered then moved her left heel off my dick. “I’ve got to go get something, be naked when I get back, or else!” and with that she bounced off to her bedroom. I hurriedly shucked my clothes off.

(continued)