The Secretary and the Security Guard

by philco

Rick loved his job as a security officer. He worked straight days in a posh downtown office building that housed government files. He could pretty much call his own shots. Supervision was minimal. Effectively, he was the law. He had to do hourly patrols and note them in a logbook, but his duties were few. The best thing about his job: A never ending stream of attractive, shapely women passed by him each day on their way to and from work. Rick had to adjourn to the men's room every so often to adjust himself, due to the heavy and very sexy female traffic. Nevertheless, he was a diligent guard and took his job seriously.

Late one afternoon, Rick was at his post, when a gorgeous blonde woman in her late 30's came rushing up to him. The woman did not work in the building and simply wanted to use the pay phone. She wore a tight pink turtleneck and a long black skirt with dual slits, which revealed some seriously toned legs. Rick must have been in a trance or something but he didn't answer the woman when she asked him where the pay phone was. He stuttered and stammered and finally told her he would have to frisk her if she entered the building. She was not amused, but it was raining heavily outside and she didn't want to flag a cab in the pouring rain, so she yielded to the demand.

Rick asked her to put her hands up and stand facing the wall. She complied. He took his time, using both hands to feel her up and down not once, but twice. The second time around he placed both hands on her large, firm tits and squeezed them tightly.

The woman balked and said, "Hey what the hell are you doing?”

Rick responded, "Quiet lady. I am doing my job." The burly, young security officer was enjoying, but clearly abusing his power.

The woman shot back, "Is it your job to touch a woman improperly?"

Rick barked, "Yes it is lady. You might have a weapon. This is a government building and I have orders to search everyone thoroughly." He quickly wrapped up his search. Her defiance had spooked him. He let her proceed to the phone. She called her cab and exited hastily.

Leaving, she looked at Rick and said, "Thanks asshole…”

The guard smirked and replied, "All in a day's work lady."

Rick didn't think twice about his unethical behavior. To him, it was about power. In his job, he had it, and when he could get a cheap thrill, he would. However, the violated woman did think twice. On the cab ride home she plotted revenge. She felt shame and humiliation. The guard had demeaned her and he would have to pay. She thought about a Lorena Bobbitt type act, but that would be too extreme. Upon arriving home the woman was still upset. Her 19-year-old daughter had just come home too. The girl was a 19-year-old college frosh, a real heartbreaker, just like her mom.

"What is the matter, Mom," the girl asked. The woman vented, and told her daughter all about the unpleasant encounter with the security guard. The good daughter listened sympathetically, hanging on her mother's every word. When the woman finished telling the story, the girl said, "Mom, I'll take care of him."

The mother asked, "What are you going to do?"

The daughter replied, "Mom, the female frosh at the college were all asked to take a refresher self-defense course, it being a new school year and all. There are a lot of strange men around campus and the administration wants the girls to know how to defend themselves, just in case. You should have seen some of the stuff they taught us!"

Mom grinned. "Interesting,” she said.

The woman and her daughter then hashed out a plan of revenge. Early the next morning, they paid Rick a little visit. Mom was a beautician by trade. Daughter didn't need help in the looks department. She had inherited plenty, but Mom aided in glossing her up to make her look a little older than her tender 19 years. Both of them were beautiful, California blondes.

They entered the building separately. Mom wore a hat and sunglasses to avoid being seen by Rick. She was there because she wanted to watch the guard get his comeuppance. Accordingly, she stayed in the background. Daughter wore a trenchcoat even though it was a sunny, but still very early morning. Traffic in the building was light but there was Rick, the dutiful guard, alert and at his post. He was reading the morning paper. His candidate was ahead in the polls; his team had clinched a playoff spot the night before. Life was good.

Wearing the trenchcoat, and a lovely chapeau, the daughter approached the guard. She explained she was a secretary, it was her first day, and she wanted to know where the file room was located. Rick looked up from his paper and was stunned. He was hypnotized by the girl's ocean blue eyes, her flowing blonde locks and her seeming innocence. He pointed to the closet and told her she could hang her hat and coat there. As she removed them and placed them in the closet, Rick ogled her the whole time. This girl was a complete knockout. She had on a provocative short sleeved ivory blouse, with two buttons undone. She was not wearing a bra. She was also wearing a tight black, silk mini-skirt with ivory stockings and high-heels. About 5'7" and a fit 120 lbs., the girl was a hottie. She totally captivated the unsuspecting security officer.

As the girl approached the guard, she intentionally dropped her purse. She was directly in front of Rick when she did this. Bending down to retrieve the purse, the girl knew the guard was checking out her taut cleavage.

After her ruse, she asked the guard, "Where to…”

Rick rose from his chair and said, "Follow me. It is just down this hall.” The corridor was vacant at this early hour. Rick escorted the lovely lass to the file room. It occurred to him that he didn't inquire about the girl's credentials and he asked her for identification. She explained it was her first day and the boss said her photo i.d. would be taken at lunchtime. The guard was okay with her answer. He then told her she would have to be frisked.

The girl was ready for this and flirtatiously said, "Hmmm, I have always wanted to be frisked by a man in uniform," and she ran her perfectly French manicured hand down his tie. Rick could not believe his ears. This beauty was game. Too bad it was early and not late. He could not possibly get away with any shenanigans this early. But he couldn't help himself; her nipples distracted him. They were too inviting. He could see them protruding clearly through her top. Meanwhile, mom had furtively trailed the guard and her daughter and was hiding nearby.

Rick positioned the girl facing the wall and began to feel her up and down, just as he done to her mom. She smelled great. He licked his lips silently as he felt her nipples. Only this time, he stopped and placed his evil hands around the girl's waist.

He told her, "I'll play the lion; you play the lioness.” The girl went along. This both surprised and intrigued Rick. He was expecting her to balk, as most other women had. This girl was different. She quickly spun and was now facing Rick. They were standing about two feet apart. She batted her eyes at him a few times, rubbed her hands seductively under her amazing breasts, and smiled a seductive smile. Without warning the girl unleashed a full force snapkick that smoked Rick's testicles. He dropped to the floor like a lead balloon.

"you fucking bitch,” he said in an agonized whisper. The girl walked right up to him and kicked him again, this time in the side of the head. The guard slumped, his will broken. But the girl was not finished.

Revenge was sweet, thought the daughter, as she slowly circled the prone guard. She giggled and wiggled, and smiled down at Rick. He looked up at her for mercy and noticed white panties under her black skirt. Her high heels made a sound that, funny enough, maintained Rick's erection. After a minute or so, she signaled to mom to come get her kicks in on the jerk who had violated her only a day earlier. Mom dropped her disguise and the trenchcoat she was wearing. She gleefully transformed herself from spectator to participant. Underneath, she had on an orange bikini and white heels. Mom had a killer body, just like her daughter. From there, the woman hoofed Rick in the balls three times as he lay on the floor. She enjoyed the ball-kicking hat trick and took her time in administering the kicks. Still, she was not satisfied, nor was her gorgeous daughter.

"Get him on his feet," ordered mom. Together, they propped the rag doll guard on to his feet and pressed him against the wall. Mom commanded her daughter to continue their little self-defense seminar. The daughter happily obliged. She put but her beautiful hands on Rick's shoulders and started French kissing the guard.

Mom asked, "What are you doing?”

Daughter responded, "I have to revive him a bit mom or he won't feel the pain as much." Sounds reasonable, thought mom. Daughter necked with the almost unconscious guard until he came around. The moment he did, the girl grabbed the shoulder straps on Rick's uniform, and kneed him hard right in the balls. Again, the guard dropped to his knees like dead weight. For a moment, the girl's hands got caught in the straps as Rick buckled in front of her. She chipped two of her fingernails and was not pleased. She stepped back to get a good look at her target. The girl then kneed Rick square, right in the forehead. Rick was almost out.

"Mom, they call that knee to the power of two," said the girl.

The enlightened mother said, "Oh... Nice,” Mother and daughter were careful not to make noise or draw blood as they worked the guard over. They did not wish to arouse suspicion, nor did they want to clean up any mess. Rick was definitely woozy. He may have had a concussion. The girl had kneed him full force in the forehead with her ivory stockinged knee. Still, he was not out cold. The pair of beauties just gazed at the asshole, and repeatedly taunted him with his own words.

Over and over, they whispered, "All in a day's work." The daughter became bored with this and fanned out her nails, fixated on the two she had chipped. Rick looked like he was ready for bed.

"Mom, I have one more self-defense tip for you but we need to get this jerk on his feet,” said the girl. Mom and daughter lifted Rick, who could barely stand or open his eyes. Again they placed him against the wall. The girl grabbed the guard, again by the shoulders, and kneed him sharply in the balls.

Mom said, "Honey, you showed me that already.”

Daughter answered, "I know… but I didn't show you this, yet.” With Rick doubled over, his equilibrium shot to shit, the girl cupped her hand and cracked Rick right on the side of the neck with a wicked karate chop. Rick was done. He had been KO'd by this young 'thang'. Mom was pleased. The plan was executed with cunning precision. It had only taken a few minutes to comatose the security guard. And it was cathartic fun.

The daughter asked her mother, "What do we do now?"

Mom said, "Let's drag him into the closet and tie him up.” And they did just that, muzzling the unconscious guard with duct tape after tying his hands and legs.

Rick the security guard would not come to for roughly two hours. When staff found him, he had a lot of explaining to do. He also was walking funny for days afterward and complained of recurring headaches. He was not fired, but he never abused his authority again.

As mom and daughter emerged from the closet where they had stored Rick, the morning staff began filing in. Mom was a little embarrassed being that she was only in a bikini but the male staff didn't seem to mind. The woman smiled at one gentleman as she retrieved her coat. The girl grabbed her coat and the devastating duo exited the building.

As they left, mom wondered to her daughter about the effectiveness of the karate chop.

"I thought that only happened in the movies,” said mom.

The daughter laughed and said, "Yeah, that's what I thought too, but our instructor said if you hit a man right at the side/back of the neck and do it with proper leverage, you can knock a man out, but you get the angle by kneeing the guy first. Always start with the knee. Forget diamonds, mom; a woman's knee is her best friend.”

Mom listened attentively and said, "Yes, and in this case, the guard's testicles proved to be his own worst enemy. Maybe I'll try it out on your father if he gets too frisky.” The daughter laughed. She knew mom was joking. Then mom called out, "Taxi!”

The General

by philco

The military man with a chest full of medals had always been a closet masochist. His résumé reflected this. Early in his career, he volunteered for multiple infantry in Korea and Vietnam. Along the way, he earned commendations for bravery and his strategic genius had him well on the path to General. At 50, he made 3-star and by the ripe age of 57 he was promoted to 4-star General. The 6’4”, rugged 230-pound Army man with the graying flattop definitely looked the part. Upon being promoted, the hero was given the option of hiring his own secretary. He relished the idea and took a firsthand role in interviewing candidates.

Ten days into the search, the bachelor with and eye for the ladies found the ideal woman. A slim, petite, Demi Moore look-alike in her mid 30’s, this woman exuded innocence and elegance. She had eyeglasses and wore her long, silky hair in a sexy ponytail. Her attire was business professional – long-sleeved white blouse, a beige skirt cut loosely above the knee, a metal ring belt that hugged her curvy hips, ivory nylons and matching peep-toed stilettos. Her single status appealed to the General since married women, and especially those with children, were high maintenance.

The interview went well. She expressed flexibility indicating she was free to work from dawn to dusk. Her skill set was excellent and she answered the General’s questions patiently and to his satisfaction. After a moment to skim her résumé one last time, the West Point alum closed the file with gusto and said, “You’re hired”. They smiled mutually in agreement. Just then, the man’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me,” he apologized. “I have to take this.” As he stepped out of his office for privacy, the stunning hiree caught her breath and strolled to the window to admire the morning sunshine. Seconds later she wheeled around to return to the guest chair when she noticed an open web file in the General’s computer.

Her curiosity got the better of her and she pressed play on the dormant file. The image that materialized was that of an attractive woman in a karate outfit instructing a younger woman dressed in business attire how to properly defend herself, with an emphasis on ‘busting balls’. The hiree’s satin panties moistened at the mere idea of ‘girl power’ but her mid-morning wet dream ended abruptly when she heard her new boss wrapping up his call. She quickly clicked the stop button before double-timing it back to her chair.

“Sorry about that,” bellowed the 4-star as he re-entered the room. “I just learned that we’ve been invited to a party tonight. The Joint Chief’s are hosting a bash in my honor to celebrate the promotion.”

“We?” she asked.

“Yes, we,” he confidently snarled. “It will be the perfect place to introduce you to those you will be working with… and against,” said the General with a sly smile.

“I can’t wait,” said the shapely brunette. “Meet you there?” she asked.

“Indeed,” he said. “Here’s the address and please dress formally.”

Hors later the hiree arrived at the black-tie function dressed to rupture with a sexy, black evening dress highlighting her perky bustline and a black leather mini-skirt. Her black, pointy-toed stilettos caught the eye of the lone military cop manning the metal detector entrance. “You could really hurt someone with those, ma’am,” said the young guard in a sheepish tone.”

The woman, wearing her gorgeous hair down for this occasion, sensed her absolute superiority over the boy. She smiled, removed her glasses and said, “Oh, you mean these shoes…” She gazed down innocently at the sharp points and flexed her foot for emphasis. “You’re probably right…” She the playfully tilted her head, looked into the MP’s eyes and warned, “…and if you give me any static officer, you might find your testicles orbiting your tonsils.” He smiled uneasily and motioned her through. She advanced without incident and, knowing the MP’s gaze was magnetized on her fetching derriere, the woman strutted toward the ballroom, her weapons clicking as she went.

“There you are Lisa. You look lovely,” said the General, decked out in full dress uniform with the newly minted 4^th star on both shoulders. “Glad you could make it,” he said as he kissed her hand and kindly seated her at his table.

Thank you for inviting me sir,” she said. The pair proceeded to get more acquainted as toasts to the new 4-star sporadically interrupted their chat.

“I did a little research on you General,” said the woman as she snuck her pointy-toed shoe under the table, making soft but direct contact with his package. We have a lot in common,” she said as the point of her shoe provocatively probed and jabbed his scrotum.

“We do?” he said in a wary tone.

“You’re not only single like me but you like having your balls kicked.”

Taken aback, the General said, “How do you know?”

Lisa replied mischievously, “I saw that webpage you had open this morning. You’re a closet masochist! Don’t worry; it will be our little secret. But I have to admit… it made me very horny. I don’t know if you noticed on my résumé but I once worked at the CIA where they taught all delicate females self-defense.” She then jabbed him hard with her heel, causing him to recoil slightly. “You mentioned sir that we have people to work against and I could be quite handy as an internal espionage agent.” She went on to add, “Because of my appearance, men tend to underestimate me.”

Never mind a 4^th star, the General’s third leg was on full alert as Lisa continued to lightly jab his sack while giving a tidy dissertation of the many ways to ‘bust’ a man. “Punching, kicking, slapping and flicking are all good techniques,” she said. “But there are other subtle methods that I specialize in. For instance… come close for a moment sir.” She reached under the tablecloth and gently unzipped his trousers. Grabbing his testicles firmly, she the gleefully explained the famous ‘grip and twist’. “It’s especially effective when dealing with pushy men at bars,” she said. “You make a ring with your thumb and index finger around the nutsack, apply pressure by tightening and the use your index finger to divide the testicles while pressing inward.”

The General winced and patted his hand on the table to signal her to relent. “That’ll work,” he said then quickly looked around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on Lisa’s mesmerizing lecture. Satisfied no one was, the General caught his breath and instructed his new secretary to “please continue”.

The brunette vixen drew the General’s attention to those wicked, black pumps she was wearing. “These are my nutcrackers,” she purred proudly. “My girlfriends and I talk frequently about the latest pair of ‘nutcrackers’ we purchased. The MP at the entrance noticed this pair… and why wouldn’t he? The point (she fingered the sexy outline of it) is most effective in cutting a man down to size. One properly executed snap kick with these, General, and even a powerful man like you would be down for the count.” The 4-star grimaced while accidentally spurting in his shorts. Trying to contain his excitement, he reached under the table to zip his trousers, which were still undone after the ‘grip and twist’ lesson.

Meanwhile, Lisa waxed on about her pumps. “I’ve learned a new technique that I’d love to try out… on you General.

“What’s that?” he asked with a trace of fear.

“I’d like to kick you as hard as I can with these pointy shoes… only I’m going to follow through and get you with my heel as well, sort of a double whammy,” she said with a smile that nearly leveled him.

The General gulped, contemplating how such a nasty strike could be on his manhood. “You’d do that?” he asked in disbelief.

“I’d let you wear a cup though,” she responded. “But only for the first kick. The rest would be straight on… and I promise, deadly accurate.”

Lisa now knew she had her boss wrapped around her finger. Seizing the moment, she invited the General to slow-dance as Chris DeBurgh’s ‘Lady In Red’ came on. As her trailed Lisa to the dance floor, the General got a good look at her sexy, compact body. Her pumps elevated her petite frame just enough so that her eyes were even with his chin. Gently placing her hands on the General’s broad shoulders, the woman seductively traced the outlines of the General’s 4-stars. She gazed into his eyes and warned that if his hands went any lower than her waist, “You’ll be walking funny sir.”

The General was however on his best behavior. Lisa whispered that she was joking but that she did have a question for him. “General, what do you get when you subtract two from four?”

Puzzled, the General could only muster, “Two.”

The woman pulled the unsuspecting man closer and said, “Wrong silly. A 4-star General… minus two…” She drove her left knee powerfully into his pills, which impacted hard against his pubic bone. “…equals you, my dear, in the fetal position.” The General faltered like Mike Tyson after a Buster Douglas uppercut. The stunned hero collapsed into Lisa’s arms and she struggled to cradle her superior while also applying a Spock hold to the man’s neck. Just before he passed out she whispered, “Oh, you met my knee General. I’ll see you at 0600. Bring your cup.”

The ensuing commotion was met with a mix of bemusement and concern by the rest of the gathered elites. “What happened to him?” asked one of the other 4-stars as his eyes took a walk up and down Lisa’s irresistible figure.

The woman maintained her exquisite feminine poise and put her hands on her cheeks for effect. “I’m not sure,” she offered convincingly. “I think he fainted.”

Felled

by philco

When I was twelve, there was this hot girl named Jenny. She was one year older that me. For a thirteen-year-old girl, she was something else. She favored wearing extremely tight, pocketless blue jeans and long sleeve white blouses. Instinctively, I sensed that our twenty/thirty something male teachers always had Jenny on their respective radar screens as did I. Jenny was quite flirtatious with guys (aka 'prick tease') and this was always welcome, especially for those like myself hoping to cop a feel when and wherever one might present itself.

I noticed Jenny enjoyed luring boys into close embraces proceeding then to drop them with a sharp knee in the groin. I witnessed her do this many times. That girl is singularly responsible for making me a BB aficionado.

Each time she did it, she played feminine and delicate. Then she dropped the hammer. Always, her soft hands were on the victim's shoulders before he was 'awakened'. Her appeal and reputation grew. She was a sexy brunette, standing 5'5' and tipping about 130 lbs. And she knew she was a revolutionary BBer in our area.

Much to my chagrin, she never felled me with one of her famous knee lifts. I always wanted to ask her what her BB inspiration was? I never did though.

About a year later, recess was drawing to a close. It was a cold winter day and I was covered up in a brown 'bomber jacket'. I was making my way to the door, when I felt a punch right under my ballsack. I was felled like an oak tree. I struggled to regain any semblance of a regular breathing pattern. My balls were literally (to borrow a line from AC/DC) 'THUNDERSTRUCK'. The pain was devastating. I confronted Jenny when I finally did make it back to class. She apologized and said that her target was another boy who wore the same type of coat that I did. My aching cage barked "...small consolation...” Privately, I wished she would replay the episode. But that was not going to happen.

A couple of years passed. I lost track of Jenny for a while. In eleventh grade, she re-emerged at my high school. Her T/A were none the worse for wear. I reacquainted with Jenny, as we were both in the same theatre class. There was one 'stud' in our group that always tried to reprise his version of the casting couch. Near Christmas time, he liked to surprise the attractive girls under the 'mistletoe'. Most of the girls would go along and give him a quick, harmless peck.

'Studly' made the mistake of trying to corral Jenny this way one day. At this point, Jenny had filled out to a shapely 5'7", 140 lbs. 'Studly' made his move and put his hands around the comely Jenny's waist. She smiled at him and played with his clip on tie. She then rocketed her right knee into his groin. 'Studly', from that point on, was known as "...bit player...” Who needs Viagra when Jenny is alive and well.......?

Air Rage and the Vigilante Stewardess

By philco

Leopold seemed grouchy. He was still nursing the residue of a hangover after ringing in 2001 in New York City. The successful entrepreneur hopped a Swissair flight to Geneva shortly after 3 p.m. Instead of just sleeping on the flight home, Leopold decided to have a drink. He hoped a good whisky buzz would help him beat back his pounding headache. The first rye and coke did just that. He felt better as he chatted up the English gentleman sitting next to him. They talked about politics, history and the European Union. Leopold pounded back three more drinks. The liquor emboldened Leopold. When he suggested to the Englishman that the 1982 Falklands War was Britain's darkest hour, the collegial chat suddenly turned combative. Before moving to another seat, the Brit told Leopold that if they were not passengers on an airplane, Leopold would be on the receiving end of some unscheduled dental surgery. The Englishman then stormed off leaving Leopold looking like the slurring, slob he pretty much was. The heated exchange was observed by several travelers sitting in nearby seats. Too be sure, Leopold was not winning the public relations war. He looked around and saw the general displeasure of those around him. He then mumbled something about not giving a shit and fell into a slumber in his aisle seat. Leopold slept right through dinner.

January 1, 2001 marked the introduction of a new policy by Swissair. The airline began implementing a new hard-line policy to deal with air rage, a social phenomenon that had become frequent and more hazardous to crews and polite passengers alike. Swissair had specifically trained their flight attendants to subdue unruly passengers and tie them up with plastic cords until the aircraft had landed safely. Then, the offender would be handed over to local authorities. Swissair added several new flight attendants a month before the policy was to take effect.

One recruit was a gorgeous 32-year-old brunette named Katherine. On the surface, Katherine was an innocent yet alluring beauty. However, she was only hired by the airline after accidentally rupturing her Swissair self-defense instructor. The instructor was attempting to warn female trainees not to wrestle with a male air-rager because by nature men had stronger upper bodies. At the time he was straddling Katherine during an impromptu demonstration. As the instructor bragged to the women about his gender's advantage, Katherine grabbed the man's testicles and using extreme force, squeezed and then twisted them like they were silly putty. The startled instructor writhed on the mat in agony. Company officials heard about the incident and hired her immediately. In closed-door meetings, Swissair executives reasoned the instructor's lapse was his own fault but they agreed to fund his testicular rehabilitation. They also hired Katherine immediately.

With her long dark hair and heart shaped derriere, Katherine turned heads up and down the aisle on the New York to Geneva shuttle. Her navy skirt, nylons, and stiletto pumps caused many a gent to peer over his reading glasses to get a second look at heaven. Katherine was especially adept at gently stoking a sleeping pillow under the head of a weary traveler. An hour after dinner had been served most passengers were enjoying a nap. She noticed Leopold slouched over into the seat where the feisty Englishman had been sitting. She tried to straighten his posture and make him more comfortable. Leopold though was not really asleep.

By this time he was ready for another drink. As Katherine gently tried to move him, Leopold made eye contact with her. She smiled and apologized for waking him. He smiled and ordered another rye and coke. Katherine lingered at his side for a moment. She collected her thoughts and turned to fetch the drink for Leopold. She contemplated cutting him off because he been a nuisance earlier but decided not to. Cavalierly, Leopold groped her by her ass and in a very patronizing tone said, "Correction Miss, I'll have a double instead."

Katherine concealed her outrage as she went to fix Leopold's drink. She fumed silently near the galley at the rear of the first class section. The nerve of that man, she thought to herself. Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a man had entered the lavatory adjacent to the galley. She peered back down the aisle and noticed Leopold's seat was empty. Katherine then removed her navy blazer. Her crisp long sleeve white blouse was the ideal fashion compliment to her fit, hourglass figure.

When Leopold exited the washroom, Katherine cornered him and said, "Here's the drink you asked for, sir."

Leopold, gazed at her chest for a moment, before arrogantly asking, "You did pour me the double I wanted, didn't you." Katherine beamed at him.

"Yes, I did...and....if you can drink here in front of me.... I’ll make you another free of charge." Leopold imbibed the TRIPLE without further adieu.

"You sure pour a strong drink, Miss," he said.

"I put my secret ingredient into that last drink," Katherine said. She stared into Leopold's glazed eyes and flashed a flirtatious look at him. "I'll tell you but promise not to tell anyone else," she said. He nodded in agreement. She put her index finger to mouth and motioned him to come forward. He leaned forward to hear what she was about to whisper. She stroked the back of his head gently as she pulled the portly businessman to her bosom. Leopold's whiskey dick was now fully erect as the wildly attractive stewardess tickled his balls with her other hand.

Katherine purred into Leopold's ear. She could feel him melting with anticipation. He licked her earlobe and clamped his hands around her waist. She subtly tightened her grip on his lapel and crossed his eyes with a swift and direct knee right in the crotch. Kim Basinger in the Real McCoy would have been proud. Leopold hit the carpet like an anvil had been dropped on his testicles. He was incapable of speech. Katherine silently marveled at the destruction she had wrought. When Leopold had recovered to the point of speaking, she calmly stomped his groin with her stiletto. He let out a scream of anguish that awakened first class passengers, who were sleeping.

"What's going on?" said one concerned woman. Katherine looked terrified.

"I don't know," she gasped with a look of disbelief. "I told this man he could not have any more alcohol and he grabbed me from behind." Seconds later, Leopold passed out from the pain. Other flight attendants tied Leopold's hands with plastic restraints and moved him to a special holding room. Katherine wrote out a formal incident report, including testimony from the Englishman who had argued with Leopold. Other witnesses corroborated that Leopold's behavior was boorish and fuelled by too much alcohol.

An hour outside Geneva, Katherine reappeared to a spontaneous ovation from the women in the first class section. When she got to the galley, her friend and colleague Carolyn asked her if there was any ice left, because the prisoner requested some.

"For what?" asked a bemused Katherine.

"For his jewels," answered Carolyn. "I think our instructor got off easy compared to that jerk," she added. Katherine nodded, slyly smiled and added a shot of Canadian Club to her ginger ale.

A Family Affair

By Peter the Great

This story is a homage to all the great CBT authors I’ve read over the years--I consider it my seminal work. The following contains an intense but wholly fictional situation, and I do not advocate such scenarios for anything other than fantasy. Please go no further if such material offends you.

Also, this is my first story, so please let me know what ya'll think.

************************************************************************

Jill walked into her home and found her father, Dave, a tall, handsome twenty-eight-year-old man with blond hair and wire rimmed glasses, and her mother Sarah, sitting in the living room. Her father was wearing a slim shirt, some tight jeans and socks, and her mother was fully dressed.

“Jill, we have something we need to discuss with you,” said her mother in serious tones. Suddenly, Jill grew frightened that perhaps she was in trouble.

“No, it’s nothing about you, really. It’s been decided that we, I, need your help in solving a little problem,” her father said with an equally serious face.

“You see Jill, you father and I have decided to not have any more children, and since I do not want any bastard doctors cutting into my body, we’ve agreed that your father should, shall we say, be sterilized. However, due to his religious convictions, your father won’t have his tubes tied. So, I want you to crush your father’s testicles so he can’t sire anymore children.” Jill’s mother seemed intent on forcing Jill to respond.

“Oh father, would you let me do that?” Jill had once seen her father’s great big balls, about the size of lemons each, and had wondered what it would be like to hold them, taste them, squeeze them, and even crush them. It was like a fantasy come true.

Dave, looking at her with great affection said, “I have waited a long time to let you touch them, now you get to make them yours. I want you to do with them as you will. Squeeze them, hit them, put them in your mouth, if they’ll fit, and chew them till they burst. Just get rid of them for me! Jill, you’re my only daughter, and I want you to destroy them any way you can imagine.” Jill was astounded. It was all she could to stand still and not run and pull out her father’s gonads from within their protective pouch right then.

“But first, I promised your dad I give him the last, and best, blow job of his life, since he won’t be having any more of them!” Both her parents smiled at that. “And I want you to watch, so you’ll know what to do with a man when you have one of your own.” Sarah beckoned her daughter close, and knelt down in front of Dave, taking great care to let Jill see what she was doing. Dave’s head leaned back and he closed his eyes, while Sarah slowly unzipped his fly. She reached into his pants, around the fly of his boxers, and found his big throbbing cock, and pulled it out for her daughter to see, carefully keeping his balls hidden from view. Jill gasped at how big it was. The thing had a long shaft with a great big head and was much longer than even the length of her mother’s hand.

Sarah gave the prong, easily seven inches in length, a few strokes, and then said, “Now the first thing is to lubricate the shaft with saliva, so just lick the shaft and head to get it slick.” Doing so, Jill watched her mother in fascination. Dave moaned a little as his wife licked and slightly drooled on his rigid tool. Jill loved seeing her father so relaxed and sexy. Sarah situated herself more securely between Dave’s long legs and then pulled the tip of his pulsing penis so that Jill could see it. “See this slit, this is where men’s cum erupts from. Cum is the tasty stuff that men’s balls produce to make babies, and we’re going to make sure his are churning from excitement before you destroy them.” All the while, Sarah was stroking Dave’s thick cock to keep it hard.

“Now one important thing to remember is that giving a blow job to a man has nothing to with blowing, or sucking for that matter. You want to make sure your teeth don’t touch the skin of the penis, and instead just go up and down on it, like a piston. Watch.” Jill’s mom expertly mouthed her husband’s shiny pink dick while David groaned softly. She moved up and down, sometimes slowly, other times quickly, just to tease him. Jill stuck her face in close and could smell the pungent mixture of her mother’s saliva and her father’s precum. Her father started to buck his hips slightly, grinding them upwards with each slippery stroke. Jill was fascinated with how she could see the outline of her father’s dick head as it slid past the cheeks and down her throat. Making sure he didn’t shoot too soon, her mother stopped and stroked the pulsing cock.

“Jill, I want you to taste this. Precum is sweeter than full ejaculate, and I want you to enjoy this.” Jill licked the clear white liquid that her mother had gathered from the penis tip.

“Wow, it’s sweet and musky, do all boys make this? Why don’t we?” Sliding her hand over the wet tool, Sarah smiled.

“It’s men’s balls that make it, and I’m glad we don’t, since it keeps us from having such vulnerable organs. Watch now, I’m going to make him cum.” Licking the shaft and head to re-wet it Sarah swallowed her husband’s cock for, perhaps, the last time, and plunged back and forth on it with abandon. David’s strong hands clutched the armrests and loud gasp escaped his lips as he passionately bucked his cum into his wife’s warm mouth. Jill had never seen her father so sexy and pliable. His head was arched back, eyes closed and tight muscled chest heaving – oblivious to all else. Finally, he stopped moving and slumped into the chair, sighing deeply.

“Fuck, that was great, honey.”

“Yeah, but from now on you’ll be going down me.” Sarah wiped her mouth and fondled the now soft dick, its big crimson head now resting on Dave’s jeans.

“O.K. honey, let’s let her see them, feel them for the first time.” David opened his eyes and nodded. With his wife’s help, jeans slid over his pelvis and down his legs. Dave pulled off his shirt, revealing a muscled but lithe chest with a small trail of hair disappearing into blue plaid boxers.

Dave could see his daughter anxious to see his jewels, and said, “Go ahead, reach inside and pull them out.” With a wicked grin, Jill reached her hand inside his underwear and felt around until she found his big nuts, hanging low in his boxers. She yanked them into view and swooned in ecstasy as the large, meaty ovals heaved into sight. The thin, translucent ball sac had a reddish tinge and each ball was larger than her hand. They were vulnerable and so succulent looking. She grabbed one each with her hands and examined them, squeezing them, rolling them, and reveling in the power she had over them. She singled out his larger left ball and leaned close. She pressed both thumbs into the big plum and watched his head lift back with his mouth wide open, gasping for breath.

“Squeeze it harder, honey, I want to see your father cry” Jill really leaned into it, crushing her father’s big left testicle with her small hands, and gradually her father started to slump in the chair and made an “ungh” sound in his throat. Still, it was obvious she wasn’t strong enough to fully crush it. Instead, she started to pull from behind the ball and almost pulled her father out of the seat. Then she hit his big ball with her left fist, and laughed at the smacking sound it made – as well as the little cry’s they elicited from her strong father. Finally, when the tensing of David’s wiry, tight abs became too much, she let the testicle drop into his lap.

“Mom, I can’t hurt them enough, this way. I want to kick them, with Dad on his knees, on the floor”.

“O.K., hon., but first, let’s give him the shots. Do you want to see me stick a big needle right into his balls?” Jill’s eyes widened with excitement as she continued to toy with her father’s big testicles, pulling them this way and that. David opened his eyes, placed his fingers over his daughters, and made her squeeze his gonads even harder.

In a voice tense with pain and passion, the tall muscled blond said, “I’ve had our family doctor make up a cocktail of endorphin enhancers, antibiotics, muscle relaxants, and anti-inflammatory agents. That way I’ll actually enjoy the nut-pain, and you can stick things in my balls and I won’t get septic. Plus, they’ll hang low in my sac, and if your mom cooks my balls afterwards, they’ll be nice and juicy!” Jill wondered at that last statement, and briefly imagined what her father’s nuts must taste like.

Sarah returned from the kitchen with a large syringe filled with clear liquid. David wrenched his nuts out of his daughter’s hands and held the plums up for them to be injected. Jill had other ideas, though.

“Daddy, you’ve got to get naked, and I want to stick the long sharp needle in myself. Stand up!” Dave reluctantly stood up, and lowered his boxers until it was just him in his white socks; large balls hanging between his legs, and smooth tan skin glistening with sweat. Impulsively, Jill who was kneeling in front of him lunged up and wrapped her mouth around one ball, she was so eager to almost eat them. She could smell her father’s spicy crotch scent and the testicle took up her whole mouth, but she bit down on it any way, sucking simultaneously. David cried out and fell back into the chair, but let her continue to maul his right nut. The nut almost burst in her mouth, but she just couldn’t get her teeth around the center of the ball, so she let it go finally. David was slumped over, eyes shut, with tears running down his cheeks. Sarah was thrilled. She pulled off her husband’s glasses.

“O.K., hon, what do you want to do?” Jill told her mother what she wanted, and together they dragged David over to the arm of the couch. Sarah leaned her husband over the arm, face first, so that that his scrotum could be pulled out behind him, to hang on the arm rest, behind his butt. Then, she held him firmly. Jill had never seen nuts look like this, from behind and flat against a surface. They looked less rounded and had a sharp point at the bottom, where she could feel cords attach. She took the syringe, and with a big smile, plunged it deep in to one lolling testicle. David’s body stiffened and he moaned, but she still squirted half the stuff directly into his ball. Then, she pulled it out, and more slowly this time to savor the sharp need piercing the plump ball flesh, slid it into the remaining ball. She noticed how there was slight resistance at first, but then less as it traveled into the heart of his big nut. The plunger pushed the rest of the liquid into his ball, and then for fun, Jill pulled back on the plunger to see for herself the white liquid she had tasted. Nothing happed, though, and Jill angrily stabbed the needle the rest of the way through his fat ball, impaling it on the sofa. Sarah shouted with enthusiasm, while keeping David from falling.

“Take it out hon, and lets have some fun”. Removing the needle, they slapped David back to full consciousness, and had him get on all fours, so that his balls hung at a perfect level for Jill to kick.

Telling his daughter in a half dazed whisper, “I want you to kick my balls as hard as you can, sweetie, it may take a while to get them tenderized enough for you to crush.” With that David made a showing of widening his legs for easy access from behind, hung his head down and closed his eyes.

Sarah jerked his head up and held it between her hands, “I want to see it in your face each time she scrambles your eggs, big boy.” Jill first went up and fondled her father’s gonads, hanging even lower now that they’d relaxed from the drugs, like so much ripe fruit, and pondered how wonderful it was that she had complete control over her father. Then, she backed up and took her first kick at her father’s goolies. She felt her shoe connect with them and watched the scrotum bounce with the impact. Although his body lifted with the impact, it wasn’t doing enough damage, so she went and put on her soccer cleats. Then, while her mother watched, she kicked her father between the legs, over and over. With each kick, her father let out a cry and his face was screwed up in both pain and pleasure.

Jill could almost see her mother kicking with her, as she yelled “harder, harder Jill” with each slam of her daughter’s foot. Jill at one point felt the toe of her shoe compress a ball against his pelvis, and she wondered what it must be like for men to be so vulnerable all the time. She eventually stopped to pull them out, and noticed they were getting larger and red, but still looked whole.

“Mom, flip him over, they’re moving out of the way too easily.” Sarah eagerly grabbed her husband, whose butt was still in the air, but whose head had fallen to the floor, and wrenched his muscular shoulders to flip him over. Although his head lolled to the side, David didn’t resist as his daughter pushed his knees up to showcase his voluminous nuts hanging down over his crack, and even widened them for her benefit. Clearly he was anticipating the destruction of his nuts. Jill knelt between his legs and played with his semi-erect cock, noticing as she pushed her thigh, or squeezed her forearm against his sac, her father oozed cum out the tip of his dick. It was like a faucet and his swollen balls were the handles.

“I’m going to mash the bigger one first, then bite it. The other I’ll play with some more,” she thought.

“Hold him, mom”, and with that, Jill separated out the larger left nut and stretched it up almost to his belly button. Then with great precision, Jill brought her kneecap to rest on the ball and slowly transferred her weight onto the doomed testicle. She could feel it sink into his lower abdomen, and as more and more weight rested on his ball, David let out a long cough. Semen was squirting from his cock, and Sarah urged her daughter to squeeze out every last drop of his child making ability.

Head thrashing from side to side, David could feel his testicle being crushed under his daughters knee, and he briefly opened his eyes to see her leaning into the job, with obvious enjoyment. It was the most excruciatingly erotic and painful experience of his life, and he even began pushing his nut into her knee with his pelvis. He wanted her to burst his jewel so badly. Suddenly it did, with a soft pop, and her father bucked his crushed nut into her knee hoping to make the intense pain and pleasure last as long as possible.

Jill felt the testicle give under knee and after forcing her father’s pelvis to the floor, checked his formerly bloated jewel. The once proud nut was partially flattened with one end still looking firm.

“Damn, I didn’t get it all” Jill slid off her father and squeezed what remained of his left nut out with her hand. Rubbing her face against it, she marveled at how warm and alive it was. She licked and mouthed the testicle, tasting her fathers sweat – fresh from pain and excitement, and she could hear her father moaning to himself “crush it Jill, hurt me”.

“O.K.” Jill stuffed what remained of the ball into her mouth and chewed down on it. At first the ball slipped out from between her molars, but persistence paid off. With each bite her father twitched violently and her mother held him down.

“Enjoy the taste dear, it’s not every man who’ll let you eat his nuts.” Soon the testicle was nothing but a mushy bag of ruined manhood, and Jill let the mess slide out of her mouth, so she could concentrate on the other, still whole, ball. This one she would really torture.

Taking a ruler from her backpack, she grabbed the right ball as tightly as she could and started hitting it. With each smack, David’s torso arched and Jill kept up the rhythm until the big gonad was glowing red-hot. Stripping her shoe of its laces, she wrapped it around the ball’s base. Once immobilized, she reached for her sharp protractor to stab the ball with.

“No honey, go get mommy’s sewing kit and the ice pick, from the bar.”

“O.K. mom” Jill gave her dad’s ball a vicious smack and left to get the items. With only the rounded surface of the testicle exposed, Jill opened up the kit and extracting a sharp needle, then slowly pushed it in. Oh what a lovely sound, like a small pop or crunch, as it broke through the ball’s touch exterior. Several more needles went in, half way, then she thought, what the hell, and pushed them all the way into the ball, the sharp ends hitting the epididimus on its back side. Sarah stuffed David's musky boxers into his open mouth to stop his scream. Jill then resumed hitting the ball with her hand and squeezing the needles around in his helpless nut. She loved seeing her father, who usually towered over everyone, helpless as a baby all because his family jewels were in her innocent hands.

“Now use the ice-pick, hon.” Picking up the deadly steel pick, she decided to first skewer the ball lengthwise, from top to bottom. Holding the nut tightly she aimed carefully and then, squish, the steel pick went right through. David went limp. But the fun wasn’t over. Widening the hole around the ice pick, Jill stretched the sac skin and with some effort popped the whole ball out of its nest.

“Look mom, dad’s nut on a stick.” She stretched it out to see the white vas deferens, which ran from the ball into his body, and twisted the ball this way and that. Wanting to see the inside she yanked out the ice pick and squeezed really hard. The coiled tubes inside the ball squeezed out like a fine paste, and soon there was no shape left to the ball.

“Tenderize it a little more, then well have some dinner. I believe we already have scrambled eggs prepared.” Jill kicked the big white nut and mushy sac some more, and Sarah chopped off her husband’s mashed fruit to prepared their next meal. Dave lay supine on the floor, his manhood removed, and his family satisfied in a way they had never been before. Jill thought his balls tasted just right, with a little salt and pepper.

Not-So-Little Nadine

by Pete Upbyachik

Little Nadine, the 13-year-old early bloomer, could boast of only the second-biggest boobs in the county upon graduating from junior high school, but the other girl was a wee bit on the heavy side. But even besides that, the bottom line was that both little girls could boast of and, at times be embarrassed by, boobs roughly the size of small cannonballs, so it's all good.

Not really much of a tomboy, attending an all-girl school for a number of years, having no brothers, and coming from a single mom home as she did--and having only one male cousin besides all that--Nadine lead a relatively sheltered life away from boys, and knowledge about boys. Basic anatomical differences between boys and girls Nadine had only been cursorily aware of and no more. For example, she knew that boys had "thingies” while a girl's "thingies” were tucked up inside. But that was about all the naive young girl had ever heard.

One day, two weeks after graduating from junior high school, Nadine witnessed something that really freaked her out and would dramatically alter the way she would view boys and girls, men and women, as she would continue to develop. She saw a fight between a boy and girl, both of whom she had gone to school with--Tommy W. and Carol C.

Carol was the supreme tomboy in the neighborhood, routinely in trouble, consistently being sent up to the principal's office at school. Tommy was widely acknowledged to be the toughest kid in school, the most athletic, most popular, the one the girls all had a crush on, etc., etc.

Nadine had witnessed what started the fight between the two 13-year-olds. Basically, Carol had started it, for whatever reason--probably it was Carol's twisted way of showing that she too liked Tommy--why not, everybody else did (everybody Tommy hadn't already beat up, that is). She kept continually calling Tommy a "fire brain.” This was because Tommy had bright red hair. Nadine was appalled at Carol's foolishness--surely Carol wouldn't want to get her ass kicked by a boy, much less Tommy W.! It all went down in front of Miller's Pool Hall uptown.

Tommy showed great restraint at first, trying to ignore the mouthy little Carol, who was so apparently jealous for his attention even he saw through it. He tried at last to walk away down the sidewalk, but Carol kept on, until Tommy finally turned on her and full on slapped her, whereupon Carol had the stupidity and the temerity to slap him right back. After that, the fight was on.

As expected, Tommy proceeded to pretty much kick Carol's ass all over the sidewalk for the next thirty seconds or so... until a funny thing happened. Carol was flat on her butt, with Tommy standing over her, about to put his shoe so far up her fanny it would end the fight for good, when suddenly Nadine saw that it was Carol's shoe that moved next, and quickly at that, flying up a couple of feet or so, hitting Tommy right between his legs.

It wasn't a very hard blow really, but you wouldn't be able to tell that at all from Tommy's reaction. Tommy's face went totally blank, except for his bulging eyes, as he grabbed himself between the legs. A second later, his knees buckled out from under him as he fell on the ground, he lay all curled up on his side like a frightened caterpillar. Deep, pitiful exhalations came out of him, but he never stirred. He never seemed to move from that rolled-up caterpillar ball he'd gone into. Carol got up. Tommy didn't. As a matter of fact, Tommy laid there for about five whole minutes before he could even try to get up, saying nothing, only moaning occasionally about the stricken status of his poor "balls.” From her vantage point on the corner, Nadine recognized, albeit vaguely, that by the word "balls” the boy was referring to part of those "thingies” that boys have that girls don't. But she had no idea why Tommy was on the ground holding himself down there, holding and rubbing away at his thingies, no idea why he should have been so devastated by a not-so-devastating kick.

Nadine stood there watching, wondering. As Carol walked by, after having stood over Tommy for a few seconds of triumphant taunting, teasing him over the pathetic weakness of his balls--she kept saying something about the pathetic weakness of boys the world over, really--Nadine grabbed Carol by the arm as she passed. Carol, evidently thinking that a stark, raving miracle had just taken place--that Tommy was somehow back on his feet--whirled around quickly as if to resume the fighting, just in time to see Nadine falling on her butt, clutching at her boob.

"Oh shit--sorry,” Carol quickly said, realizing what happened: that her elbow had smacked squarely into the nipple center of one of Nadine's exceedingly oversized juvenile boobs. Nadine sat there, rubbing her boob and taking strained breaths, in too much pain to look up at Carol and acknowledge the apology. Ten seconds later, however, still rubbing her boob, Nadine was up on her feet.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to hit you in the boob, Nadine,” said Carol. Then, jokingly, she added, "Not like you could miss 'em or anything anyway.”

"That's okay,” Nadine answered, though her throbbing breast was saying something else entirely. "Carol, what'd you just do to Tommy over there? How'd you beat him up so fast?”

"Kicked him in the balls, whatcha think I did?” answered Carol, very much surprised by the question.

"Yeah, I know. But why... why doesn't he just get up? Why's he still laying over there? Why don't he get up and chase you down and stuff? What'd you do to him?”

"What?” asked a now thoroughly astonished Carol. "You're kidding, right?”

"No. Kidding about what?” Nadine naively continued.

"Holy crap, you really don't know, do you?”

"Know about what?”

"About how weak boys are when they get hit in the balls,” Carol finally exasperatingly explained.

'Nadine, jiminy fricking Christmas already, you kick a boy in the balls, it ruins his whole day for like five whole hours or something. And it makes 'em cry and fall down and everything. You mean you really didn't know that?”

"It does?”

"Yeah, stupid! It makes him cry like you wouldn't believe when you kick 'em there. It goes all up into their stomach or something--the pain keeps all getting worse and worse up into their stomach and stuff. That's what I heard. That's why, if you ever hit a boy there, you can beat him in any fight, every time. Geez Louise, I can't believe you don't know that, Nadine.”

"Sorry--learn something new everyday,” Nadine answered abstractedly. Her mind was already a million miles away. She was mystified by what she had just seen. There was something in this new revelation that intrigued her greatly and she didn't know why. Like a drug addict's genetic predisposition towards addictive behavior, Nadine was experiencing a sudden excitement race through her. She could feel the spike of adrenaline coursing through her blood, shooting through the big blue veins in her bulging boobs. Her saggy boobs were harder now--now this was new!

"Geez Nadine, you'd better hide those things. You might poke somebody's eye out or something.” Carol was referring to Nadine's suddenly jutting, bullet-like nipples. Nadine looked down; brushing away some hair, but it seemed more to her like she was fanning herself off. Only now did Nadine come to the realization that she had been breathing more rapidly than normal. It was Carol's ongoing description of a glaring weak spot on boys' bodies--that's what was doing this to her--how Nadine wanted Carol to just keep on talking! Nadine's next question was designed to do just that.

"And so, like, do all boys have this weakness?”

"Geez Louise, Nadine. What planet did you just now come from,” Carol impatiently concluded, finally walking away.

Nadine stayed, watching Tommy roll around on the ground in anguish. She was fascinated, enthralled. Her big, pendulous boobs stayed relatively hard, and her nipples stayed hard as mini-rockets, so long as she stared at Tommy. It was fully six and one-half more minutes after Carol left before Tommy could even make an attempt at getting up.

Nadine was hooked. It was obvious this was a fetish long latent within her. She could literally make herself high--an elative and purely feminine Power Trip high--thinking about or watching a male get hurt in the balls. From then on, for little Nadine, it was open season on males, or more accurately, open season on their balls.

Later that summer, on three separate occasions in broad daylight, Nadine deliberately picked fights with neighborhood boys whom she happened to have caught staring at her boobs. In truth, neighborhood boys staring at Nadine's amazing young rack was nothing terribly new, and she had liked even liked and encouraged and invited it before, but she so wanted to test the validity of what Carol had said to her about the weakness of a boy's balls that she would've used any excuse to do her own "experimenting.” Her boobs just happened to come in handy for this purpose now too, the purpose of drawing boys over to her. She was soon quite the ambush predator, and neighborhood kids, boys and girls alike, stopped calling her "Jugs” and "Cow Boobs.” They had two new nicknames for Nadine now: "Nads,” short for gonads, and the even more ubiquitous "Football"--to emphasize the number of times her foot had come into contact with the neighborhood boys' balls.

Some time later, Nadine's cousin was in town, visiting.

It was, in truth, only the third or fourth time she'd ever met her cousin David, the last time being about four years ago--just prior to Nadine's staggering breast development. David was older, 16 years to Nadine's 13. All Nadine remembered of him was that he was a selfish little bully--a real jerk of a cousin.

Their first few moments together were for the BB Ages.

Nadine was lounging around in cut-off jeans and bare feet in a living room chair with one foot over the arm rest and the other straight out in front of her, long sand-colored hair sprawled over and around the more than ample mounds of nippled, nubile female fat underneath a light blue blouse with puffy, short, girly sleeves. David had just come into the living room.

David was becoming a rather well built young man, as Nadine could readily see. His arms and chest were quite pronounced now through a plain white T-shirt that he was wearing. Nadine reflected that, probably, her cousin had, of late, taken up weight lifting. A moment later and Nadine was reflecting how this latest revelation about David could make the whole thing that much sweeter for her. To exert power over a boy of David's size! A boy built like this! Nadine's boobs grew steadily harder. The jutting nips, the quickened pulse, the heightened sensitivity of her skin.

Right off the bat, David couldn't take his eyes of his cousin's suddenly amazing rack. “Wow, she didn't have that before!” he thought. Right off the bat, Nadine wanted to see her cousin sprawled flat from a hit in the balls--she wanted to feel that not-so-little rush of adrenalized power that she got whenever she could have power over boys. She decided to go right on the verbal attack, baiting him, confronting him about his not-so-furtive staring at her chest; perhaps she could rile him up or something--anything for an excuse to tag her cousin where it counts.

"You'd better stop staring at my boobs or your balls are going to be soooo sorry, jerk-off. I'm your cousin, for crying out loud.”

"I wasn't staring!” said David defensively, and not very convincingly.

"You better not or, even though you are my cousin, I'll hit you in the balls so hard, you'll still be feeling it next week when you leave,” taunted an increasingly confident little Nadine.

"What the hell? You don't talk to me like that!” said an increasingly angry cousin David.

Nadine stayed the course, biding her time, and raised the ante. "You heard me, dipshit. If ever you got hit in the balls, you'd fall down and wouldn't get up for a long-ass time, pervert. On account of you're a boy, and boys have balls, and balls are so weak.”

David was apoplectic. "What the f#$%?!”

"That's right. You're helpless to nature, weak boy. Balls are so weak it's disgusting. Just like in the movies, whenever there's a fight between a guy and a girl, if the girl ever just kicks the guy in the balls one time, then the fight's over right there and the girl wins.”

"Don't be so sure, bitch.”

"Nope. I am sure. You're just a boy and boys are weak.”

"Shut the hell up,” an increasingly confused David heard himself saying. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about. Those movies are fake. No chick could ever beat up a guy. You're dreaming. Look, if it makes you feel better, go ahead and believe that crap. But this is the real world, cuz, not Hollywood. So just shut the hell up and you won't get yourself hurt, okay?”

"Oh yeah, weak boy?” Nadine continued goading, "Ever even been hit down there, David?”

David blushed. He fumbled at an answer for a moment. He was suddenly growing a bit flustered by the boldness of his younger cousin. "Uh... yeah, sure I have. Got hit by a football there once.”

"Aaaaaand?” Nadine asked, languidly twirling locks of sandy hair around a finger, looking up at David, right up into his eyes. She was purposefully dragging out the word, and if that wasn't humiliating enough to the older boy, she was uttering it in this little cutesy baby talk voice. It was the same confounding baby talk voice Nadine used on several fallen neighborhood boys in the past, a voice delicious, surely designed to mock and to provoke a further and (if all went well) furious reaction out of David.

It worked.

"Sure it hurt. So what? What about it?” David yelled, stepping in closer, leaning over Nadine's chair menacingly now, practically spewing the words right down at her.

"But it didn't hurt that bad to where I couldn't get up or talk or kick somebody’s ass if I'd've wanted to. That's ridiculous! And any girl ever tries that shit on me I'll--”

Poor David...

David had been wearing some light, loose-fitting jogging or other exercise shorts, but it probably wouldn't have much mattered what the hell he was wearing. He was doomed from the start. Nadine's foot seemed to act on its own - instinctive, a superb, perhaps even primal feminine reflex reaction. Her eyes never left his, but her right foot came up swiftly, a deft motion not having to travel more than a few ridiculous inches.

The colossal collision, as David's pole-axed pain receptors in his brain were soon telling him it had been, was simply, and in reality, no collision at all; just a mild and brief introductory meeting, a tap really, between the knuckly-hard top of Nadine's feminine foot and the hanging, perfectly vulnerable underbelly of David's manly Everything. In terms of monumental collisions, it was nothing: It was but two carnival carousel bumper cars, briefly coming into contact with each other and then gently bouncing away in opposite directions. And still Nadine's eyes never left David's. She was smiling up at him the whole time, a smile so wide, even infectious--a smile that forged its way up into ever so cute dimples, into happy and flashing, long-lashed, upside-down flitting moon crescents for eyes.

Upon David's face was something else entirely.

In later years, when Nadine would go on to college and major in literature, she would begin a diary of her past ballbustings (which would continue with increasing frequency!), always careful to record the humorous anecdotes surrounding each of them. Of this particular moment in time, she would write how David's facial expression suddenly turned "from one of supreme chauvinist cocksureness to a dull roar of amazement. He suddenly sported this utterly stupefied look, which arose from deep within his bowels (so I gathered). In an instant, and with the barest minimum of effort, I had rendered poor David helpless and even terribly frightened over what had just happened to him (and obviously was still happening to him!).

“Little bitty Nadine had gone and bopped her older cousin a good one right where he lives,” she would write. "And now he just sat there, hunched over, hands hopelessly clutching at his crotch, his body having been held up and spared from an embarrassing involuntary floor-kissing only by the fortuitous fact that his butt had already been hovering over the back of the couch before my treacherous little act of ball-bopping. And only that couch now supported his entire weight--albeit barely, for he was teetering atop the corner of it, all his vitality quite visibly sapped away in less than one second. The boy looked as though he'd been completely hollowed out by that little flick of my foot, and he was gasping for air like a gutted fish.”

“It was flipping hilarious what I could do to a male with a little foot flick and I had a front row seat for the entire thing. Except for the lifeless, doomed facial expression, the rest of David's body seemed to have all of a sudden tensed up and recoiled in on itself, a snail to salt. I'd just kicked my poor cousin where he lives, the poor bullying bastard, and his mind was desperately pleading for some clarity as to why the sudden onrush of so much exaggerated pain. Those poor, poor eyes of his were just begging, hoping, longing for an end to the feeling of nausea filling up and radiating off the walls of his tight 6-pack ab muscles (so I've since been told). I had just made a flipping train wreck out of a strapping young 16-year-old boy with but a flick of my foot--and I but a girl of 13. How cool! Oh, David was a goner all right; you could read it all over his face--especially in those sinking-Titanics for eyes. It had been wholesale slaughter at the very first and most moderate of blows, this little boy vs. girl struggle for supremacy, in our own living room even. What a crack up! God, was he ever embarrassed later on!”

“To make a long story short, I just love kicking guys in the balls. I love the reactions I get. I love how embarrassed they get--like they're ashamed at the weakness Nature stuck them with--as though it's their fault or something! What pitiful creatures men are. Ever since I saw Carol C. nail and drop hapless Tommy, I've been hooked on hitting guys below the belt. But that time with David--now that was precious.”

The rest of the massacre of David's balls and ego went like this:

"Awwww, do they hurt? Poor wittle boy...” cooed Nadine in her trademark mocking baby talk.

At long last, David snapped out of the fog he was in. His face was beet red. "That didn't hurt so bad,” he lied.

Little Nadine, still lounging in her chair, threw her head back onto the armrest behind her, sandy hair hanging down halfway to the floor, exposing her pale bobbing throat to the confused boy in utter reverie, her boobs jiggled as she giggled. "You're such an idiot,” she laughed.

"What?” David asked. "What's so funny?” He was wholly confused now. It was as though Nadine knew something he didn't.

"Uh, where were you just now, Dave?” Nadine teased. "You were really out of it, dude.”

"Huh?”

"I said, ‘where'd you go for the last ten seconds?’” Nadine continued to press. "Cat get your tongue or something? You went all blank; you couldn't even talk! Face it, you're weak, Dave. Just like all boys are down there. Weak, weak, weak. I doubt if you ever did get hit down there by a football. You'd be crying your eyes out if that ever really happened. You were lying about that too, weren't you, Dave?”

David was really on the defensive now. He began to feel more and more inferior to his younger female cousin--and more intimidated--with every word they exchanged. But he couldn't just stop and walk away now. He had to try to save some face, at least.

"No! I really did get hit there once. A coupla years ago.” David paused and tried to hide a slight and very telltale groan, or at least an unusually heavy sigh. His exhalation was still deep and strained from the leftover feeling of a bowling ball full of pain racking up his abdomen. He forced himself to continue in a voice hoarse and weak. "And it didn't even hurt. Only a little. Just like now. That only hurt a little when you did that.”

Nadine giggled again, and then, in a mocking voice she deliberately made sound even more cartoonishly hoarse and weak than David's, she wheezed, "Then why are you still holding onto your balls, big guy?”

David looked down and then up again sheepishly. Up until this very moment, he had not even realized that he was still instinctively clutching onto his crotch. His next words as much as admitted that Nadine's little foot had, after all, hurt him pretty badly.

"Well, of course it's gonna hurt--you about kicked me as hard as you fricking could. And I sure wasn't expecting you to do that indoors in your own living room, you bitch! Next time give me some kind of a warning at least, dammit! What'd you expect?”

Nadine's boobs seemed to positively inflate; her shoulders jerked and what emanated underneath her blouse was a fleeting wave of obscene mammary undulation as her hands came up hastily to cover over her mouth. David could see that she was trying desperately not to laugh. Even for a few seconds Nadine simply couldn't keep it back however, and a slight snickering sound inevitably came out.

"What? What's so funny?” David finally demanded of her, sobbing.

"You're such a dumb-ass. Hello! Earth to David! Earth calling David. Is anybody home?” Nadine proclaimed sarcastically. "I kicked you with my right foot, you dumbass. And not even halfway as hard as I could, believe me. What wimps you boys are! Wimps, wimps, wimps--all because of your balls!”

David was grasping for any excuse now. Hoping to God that anatomical reality was not everything his gloating little girl cousin made it out to be; that maybe she had just gotten in a really lucky shot on him, thus he played his last card. "Yeah, but it was still your right foot. So maybe you did it too hard accidentally or something. If it had been your left foot, I could probably stand up to it, no problem. You little bitch, I ought to beat the crap out of you for using your right foot like that, you know? Don't ever pull that crap on me again, you hear?”

Nadine's laughter now erupted, throwing her head back again, hair dangling down the side of the chair, boobs frolicking about in her blouse like the heads of two midgets wrestling each other under a blanket. "I'm left-footed! I'm left-footed, you idiot!” she howled exultantly. "Just imagine--just imagine if that'd been my left foot. Holy crap--” Nadine's laughter was outrageous and she struggled to breath in between hilarity attacks.

"Shut up,” David insisted. "Shut up, that's not funny.” He could think of nothing better to say; he was too humiliated, too embarrassed, too dejected.

Nadine's laughter kept on and on and on. "Sorry. I'm sorry. It's just so funny how weak you boys are and how you're so embarrassed to admit it!” she said and then gave herself over to more raucous giggling yet.

David's balls had been wounded; his pride had been shattered. He continued holding his balls that, most humiliating of all, still continued to ring with pain, like the slight vibration of bells long after they've been struck. And just now, another belated and slightly more severe ringing wave of nausea welled up from David's balls inside to his aching belly, a little package of pain addressed to David and to David only still just arriving now, as though having been mailed there third class by Nadine.

David finally conceded defeat to his younger girl cousin and, sinking slowly down from the couch onto his knees, on the carpet in front of a wide-eyed, open-mouthed, erect-nippled Nadine, David sobbed and pleaded, "Oh please make it stop.”

"Awww, I can't, sweetie,” cooed Nadine, subtly stroking her own thigh. "Poor baby, I feel so bad. I'm so sorry... “

But she wasn't. Not by a long shot, she wasn't.