fireplay86
04-05-2021, 12:49 AM
Wrote a story inspired by one of Celera Prime's sketches from earlier this year:
https://twitter.com/CeleraPrime/status/1351125179859132417
(you should give her some love, she's fantastic)
I mean, it's not like Derrick didn't prefer that it had ended under different circumstances. Stacey was cute as hell, and that look on her face when she came in the room...ugh, like disappointing a puppy, one that you can't just wave your bag of treats in front of five minutes later to distract it back to happiness. But, like, guys have parts of them that they really can't do anything about, she has to know that. Besides, he really didn't even consider that shit cheating, anyway. When a girl is coming onto you that hard at a party, it's just going to happen--it's inevitable.
Anyway, things seemed to be ending amicably. Startlingly so, actually, considering she had been distraught for basically a week straight there. She had even offered to set him up on a dating app now that he was about to be single! If that's not some next-level baller shit, he didn't know what was. His ego was at full mast.
"Hey DerrDerr, I'm done packing, so let's do the profile now, ok?" she called from the bedroom they had shared for the last 6 months.
"Uh, I guess, but you really don't have to, you know. I can always just reactivate my old OkCupid or something."
She peeked her head around the corner to the kitchen where he was stuffing a bagel into a too-small toaster slot. She always did it in such a way that it left you wondering whether she was naked around that corner or not, which secretly thrilled him. Goddamn, he was going to miss her.
"You mean the one with the main pic from your frat boy phase? And that listed 'PAWGs n Rice' in your top 5 likes? Yeah, you're lucky any girl responded to that, my friend."
"Ok, fine. I mean, I guess it couldn't hurt, right?' Derrick relented.
A nervous smirk flashed across Stacey's face.
"Right, right. Exactly. Just come in the room, lover boy."
The room seemed so bare without her stuff. Derrick began to reconsider whether he shouldn't just try to make a case for them to try to work things out. I mean, she seemed to have basically forgotten the whole thing anyw...
Stacey immediately spun around and plunged her hand into the front pocket of his board shorts.
"Give me your phone." She demanded retroactively. Despite the phone being the only object in that pocket, her hand first found Derrick's testicles through the fabric, latching on and attempting to yank them out into the open.
"Definitely not my phone!" he squealed, slightly doubling over.
"Oops! Ah, right, rectangular is the shape I'm looking for," she released his shocked appendages and brought out the phone instead.
"Alright, let's make 'em thirsty," she began typing furiously.
Derrick had become accustomed to her seeming obliviousness of male anatomy over the months they'd been living together, but even by her standards her latest, um, 'incidents' had gotten ridiculous--didn't she grow up with 3 older brothers?
After a few seconds mostly spent rubbing the ache out of his bits, Derrick leaned over her shoulder to see what she was up to. Above some standard-looking empty profile fields, the app frame read 'BUSTR'.
"Bustr? As in 'busting a nut'?" he asked incredulously.
Stacey didn't look up from her typing. "That's pretty spot on, actually."
"Damn, that's pretty, um, direct."
Stacey stopped and turned to him.
"Hey, if it's not going to be me, I want to be sure someone's giving these bad boys some action." She lowered her hand to give his junk a loving caress that despite the tenderness still in his balls felt glorious. He closed his eyes to savor it, and the feeling disappeared, and when he opened them she was back to typing.
"Alright, so first thing: have you ever 'done it' and if so, how many times?"
"Whoa, this really does get right to the point, ha. I seriously couldn't even throw out an estimate. I dunno; do girls prefer a smaller or larger number?"
"I'm just going to put 'more than I can count ' and then a sweat drop nervous emoji so that it doesn't look like you're being too cocky about it."
"Smart."
"Ok, then there's a follow-up: 'ever with your sister?'"
"What!? The fuck kind of disgusting question is that?"
"Well, they have to account for their Alabama market, I'm guessing. But I'll check a definite 'no' on that one. And then, 'have you ever been hurt so badly that you felt like you needed to throw up?'" She looked up, genuinely curious about his answer.
"I...um," his mind started to spin staring into her eyes, as the finality of their breakup was just now hitting him. "I've definitely done things that I regretted so much, and hurt so badly, that I started to feel woozy and light-headed just thinking about it."
"Aww," Stacey cooed, staring deeply into his eyes. Derrick saw his chance to win her back.
"Stace--"
She snapped her head back down to the phone.
"So I'll put 'yes, and I couldn't walk right for a while afterwards.'"
"Umm, sure."
"Ok, number 4: list some identifiable traits"
"What's that for?"
"I think they're saying, like, what makes you stand out in a crowd."
"Oh, I dunno. I suck at describing myself."
"That's alright, I can do it for you," as her thumbs flitted across the screen, stopping periodically for her to look him up and down.
After a few of those pauses he went to check her list. "'My blue eyes, my spotless Nikes, and my <3 so big I walk like a goddamn cowboy', what's going on with that last one?"
"Your big heart, silly," she chided him.
"Oh, obviously, ha."
"Ok, so now the last section is about your ideal match. Clearly I might as well just list myself here," she said with the tip of her tongue poked out at him, "but they've also got some more, umm, specific questions that you probably need to answer for yourself."
"Like what?"
She cleared her throat theatrically. "'Which do you prefer: A. Foot, B. Knee, C. Hand, D. Other'?"
"Are they for real asking about foot fetishes or something on the first page of a dating profile?"
Stacey shuffled her own feet nervously. The jig might finally be up.
"Is ass on the list?" he asked with a shit-eating grin. She returned her own grin. The jig was not up.
"I'll go ahead and go with 'other' on that one, ha. So, then we add Likes/Dislikes for your 'type', and instead of PAWGs how about we write something like, 'I like a girl with strong lower body fitness. Soccer players, especially.'"
"Since when am I into soccer players?"
"Didn't you date a girl who played soccer once?"
"Yeah, but like for a week, and I think she just was like in an intramural league, or something."
"Too late, it's already typed. Ok, what about a dislike?"
"Umm, I hate it when someone doesn't really bring it in a relationship, you know? I want someone who doesn't hold back."
"Oooh, perfect! 'I don't want someone who holds back, I want someone to give it everything they've got.' That's going to get you some matches, for sure."
She finished typing and then the ready light of the camera came on.
"And now to seal the deal with some hot pics," she said, lining him up in frame and snapping it before he could barely react.
Then she dropped down on her knees and aimed the camera right at his crotch. "And one of the boys."
"What? Why?"
"Why do you think?"
"Oh, yeah, haha. Nice."
"Ok, but really present them," she said, as she deftly tucked the fabric of his shorts around his genitals to accentuate his bulge. She seemed to be paying more attention to the balls than he would, but he wasn't about to interrupt a girl on her knees fluffing his package for a glamor shot.
"Beautiful! Now cheese!" And she took the final picture.
She got up off the carpet and handed him back his phone.
"There you go, back on the market," she chirped.
As she stood there wearing her adorable little smile (and little gym shorts) Derrick felt another pang of regret.
"Look, Stacey, I..."
She cut him off. "Don't even say it. This is best for both of us," then made a quick motion to his junk "and both of them, haha."
She grabbed the last plastic bin of her stuff and walked to the front door. Then paused, and turned back to him over her shoulder.
"Oh, and Derrick?"
"Yeah?" he asked hopefully.
"I officially forgive you."
----------------------------
The next day, Derrick was stuck in his usual morning 'commute': waiting for the single working elevator in the building to wend its way to his 14th floor apartment. It could sometimes take half an hour or more, and left him with plenty of daydream time.
But all night his thoughts had been occupied by Stacey. And now he was reliving their games of 'elevator roulette', where they'd try to get in a quickie on the ride down--and just cross their fucking fingers at each floor that no one else would try to get on. Derrick began to stiffen.
A rumble in his pants broke his reverie.
The Bustr app was flashing a notification. He had completely forgotten about it during the night. The notification pulled up a map that quickly zoomed down to what appeared to be his building, with a blue dot and flashing pink dot tightly grouped together.
'The fuck does this thing need to track my location for?' he thought, more curious than peeved.
'I guess/assume the blue is me, but there's no one else here,' he thought, staring intently at his phone as the pink dot's flashing became more urgent.
Suddenly, the up arrow on the elevator lighted with a chime, and the doors opened to reveal a girl in her mid-twenties riding alone. She also had been looking at her phone. And as she looked up she noticed Derrick standing there with his app wide open and a look of surprise came onto her face.
They locked eyes and her look changed, as though she was expecting something from him.
"Umm, yeah, sorry, I actually need to go down instead, so..." Derrick began to stumble.
Without warning, she casually shot her foot out and into Derrick's sleepy balls, the residual chub of his daydreaming guaranteeing there was no other body part to absorb the impact.
Derrick's mouth fell agape and he dropped to his knees. The elevator's passenger stood there regarding him with a small smirk. She gave him a shy wave just as the doors finished closing and carried her to her mysterious destination.
Another wave of pain emanated from Derrick's berries and he went down onto his hands and knees to ride it out. After opening his clenched eyes, he noticed his phone on the floor in front of him that he must have dropped during the kick.
The pink dot began to flash more slowly and began moving off screen. In the corner of his profile, a counter with what he assumed was an upside-down bandaged-heart icon for 'likes' incremented to 1, and then the app closed itself.
------------------------------------------------------
Derrick eventually found his way downstairs, but not before another elevator had stopped at his floor while he was still clutching himself, and the half dozen schoolgirls inside could not suppress their giggles at the sight of him.
Carrying both a bruised ego and bruised nutsack, he decided he wasn't yet feeling quite man enough to practice his swing in the batting cages at the park as he'd planned. Maybe some coffee would get him back to sorts.
After a few blocks walking, though, he realized he was headed the wrong way. He stopped and started pulling up directions.
The GPS spazzed out after opening, and Derrick whipped his body around trying to get his bearings. At that moment, a woman's foot smacked into the fire hydrant he had been standing in front of with a dull clang. Derrick was oblivious to it and the subsequent muffled obscenities taking place behind him.
The glare from the Sun was making it impossible to see the screen, so he bent over with his legs splayed wide for support, until he could see the pin on the map again. After a moment it finished loading, and he snapped his body back into an upright position, inadvertently pulling his hips just out of the arc of that same woman's foot as it swing up towards him and whiffed like a cartoony strikeout. The same muffled cursing from behind him.
Suddenly, the Bustr app opened itself with another notification again. He had a new message!
'hey numbnuts! stand still dude.' The user was in anonymous mode.
That didn't exactly strike him as a pickup line. 'What? Who is this?' he shot back.
'it's your secret admirer ;p now, open wide...'
Derrick had had enough.
'Look, I dont know what this shit's about, but today has been all kinds of fucking terri...'
A feeling arose from between Derrick's legs, which his brain quickly identified as the becoming-way-too-familiar sensation of a woman's foot whipped into his plums. His twitching thumb sent the unfinished message, and the agony of this new misfortune of his boy parts quickly supersceded the last. She had kicked harder, into already-aching nuts, and her foot had found the tender backside of his testicles--which anyone with any experience in such matters would recognize as the holy grail of ball kicking.
Derrick skipped the hands-and-feet position altogether and went full fetal on the public sidewalk. He did not have the presence of mind to look back to the source of the offending foot.
After a few minutes, he was able to look up just in time to see the same gaggle of schoolgirls pointing and laughing as they passed him. He had a new message in Bustr. It was a selfie of a thirty-something brunette winking up at the camera with Derrick's crumpled figure framed in the background. The caption read:
'aww, im so sorry about your day. hope i was able to help spice things up a little! p.s. those were some ninja reflexes lol'
His oddly-shaped, upside-down heart counter was at 2.
--------------------------------------------
By the time he had arrived at the coffee shop, it was about to close--the best Derrick could manage was about 2mph without all of his unborn children reaching up into his stomach and bringing him to a halt with a grip of nausea.
He poked his head into the to-go window to see if he could flag someone down to take his last-minute order. In the back, two baristas were wrapping up their shifts. One seemed to be explaining something on her phone to the other, which the other was finding hilarious. Then they looked up to see Derrick's waving.
The blonde put away her phone and sauntered over.
"Hey! How are you doing? I should warn you, we're about to close." she said warmly.
"Oh, yeah, no problem--I'll take whatever you've got at this point, haha," he tried to exude a carefree confidence while bracing his still-wobbly legs against the wall.
She seemed to notice his condition. "Oh, I get it."
She smiled and looked down to enter his order, but instead of the coffee shop's cashier tablet, she pulled up her own phone, which struck Derrick as odd.
"Let's see: I can give you the usual, standard fare," Derrick's eyes wandered down the front of her shirt, into the peachy curves of her cleavage, before realizing she had stopped talking and was watching him. He met her eyes, slightly flustered.
"or maybe you'd like the 'other'?"
"Uh, sure! Yeah, I'm not picky, haha."
"Ok, wait over there and I'll be right over," motioning to a lone table on the far end of the patio.
"Ok, do you like need my name or payment or anything?"
She smiled half-amused, half-pityingly. "I got you, honey."
Derrick slumped down into the only chair that hadn't yet been flipped onto the table for closing. He allowed his legs to unhinge to maximum splay--even the slight brushing of his thighs against his nuts was pain. He found the perfect angle to let the breeze find its way up his pant leg--it was like a cool, ethereal tongue licking around his aching balls. It was all uphill from here, boys.
He expected the same girl who took his order to emerge, but instead her friend came out the door holding a tall cup of coffee, scanning around for the recipient.
He waved at her and she came. He thought about propping himself into a less, er, gonadally-confrontational position, but he just could not bring himself to move.
"Hi! You had the 'other'?"
"That's me."
She smirked. "Enjoy!" And she poured the piping hot liquid onto his waiting privates. Suddenly that icy tongue became a torrent of lava swallowing up hit nuts in escapable agony.
"Aahhhh!" he whimpered, accidentally smacking his junk in his efforts to pat himself dry.
The waitress watched him with amusement for a second, then admonished:
"Don't worry, its just water--it's not going to stain, ha. Oh, and by the way, Lindsey says that you should come in the early morning for this kind of thing, because she doesn't want her boss to see her doing this with customers." She set the empty cup on the table next to him and walked back into the shop.
His balls, already tenderized from the blunt ****** they had been subject to that day, were now also lightly scalded, adding a new dimension to the ache he carried.
Bustr popped open of its own accord, again. He had a new status update:
'lindsey_brews_bruises has steamed DerrDerr88's beans'
He turned the cup around. It read derrderr88 :) in immaculate Sharpie.
His counter was up to 3.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Derrick no longer had any intention (or capability, really) of getting into the batting cages--in fact, he toyed with the notion of never striking any ball-shaped objects for the rest of his life, out of solidarity.
But the shortest route home meant cutting through the park, and a land of cool breezes and low benches sounds like a veritable oasis to a pair of weary nuts. He spotted the nearest seat: the bleachers by the soccer field.
He gingerly brought his butt down onto the brushed aluminum, trying to time his descent with the pendulum swinging of his package and avoid sitting on...himself. At least this time Stacey would not be around to interrogate him about it--it seemed like she always immediately knew when he had mistimed his swing and then would be throwing dozens of questions for him about it while he's still trying to pull his flattened balls out from under his body weight.
With that bullet dodged, he could take in the pleasure of the icy metal through the thin fabric of his shorts. He let out an involuntary moan as he settled back in against the seat behind him, catching the attention of the group of schoolgirls sat higher up watching the women's rec league soccer match playing out in front of them. To any third parties, his moan would've come across as a fairly obscene ogling of the players in their tight uniforms, but Derrick was barely registering the women on the soccer pitch--he was just glad to have some relief.
One of the girls immediately recognized the dazed, half-conscious dude below her from earlier that afternoon, and elbowed her friend to relay her discovery.
Below, Derrick was gradually regaining his composure between throbs, trickle-charging his typical swagger.
"Hey!" a girl's voice called.
Derrick craned his head back to see who was calling him--he was not about to move from this life-giving position. By doing so, he had inadvertently put himself in full upside down view up one of the teenager's skirts--she quickly shifted upright uncomfortably.
"Yeah?" he called back, just realizing what he had done.
The lead girl responded. "Are you feeling better?" she asked with some genuine sympathy.
Derrick, distracted both by his aches and now the burned afterimage of panties, had not yet registered them as the girls from earlier.
"Oh, I'm good, just a little sore from loading all of my ex-girlfriend's stuff in her car," he crooned, deciding to both establish his single-ness and then douchily fantasize about how he would turn down the underage girls when they inevitably began to hit on him.
Her friend who was still feeling the violation of the upskirt saw right through him. "Oh, is that why you were curled up on the sidewalk like that?" She asked, bitingly.
The realization that they had all witnessed his humiliation hit him and his face began to burn.
"I was just playing it up for her, ok?" as he quickly sat back up and turned away from them. He thought about leaving, but he couldn't bear the thought of their laughs as they watched him hobble off.
Instead, he sat there as the 6 girls all began sharing every anecdote they could recall about seeing a guy get it in the groin, purposely loudly enough for Derrick to overhear.
"...so he's like, 'watch this' and tries to do a scissor jump on the beam and like completely slips and lands flat on his nuts!"
"Oh my god, haha!"
"And he's just frozen in place with this look on his face, and our coach, she's like 'well, now you all know why there's no balance beam in men's gymnastics' haha!"
Every giggle and breathless description (of each bust) dug his embarrassment deeper. If there was any doubt that they all knew and would each tell his story of having his deserving balls kicked so publicly in exactly the same way, it had completely vanished.
Suddenly, the halftime whistle blew and Derrick's attention was pulled back to the field. One of the midfielders, in her green top and white shorts and hair pulled back into a ponytail for the game, walked over to the her team's bench and began checking her phone while sipping from a squeeze bottle, not seeming particularly winded.
She had caught Derrick's eye to the point that he had almost forgotten why his face was still flushed with embarrassment--Derrick vowed to attend more rec league matches.
A second later, something on her phone seemed to catch her attention, and she looked up, as though scanning the park for something. Derrick watched as she held the phone out in front of her like a divining rod, following its directives with wavering confidence as it led her toward the bleachers.
She stopped in front of the first bench, and began to size up the smattering of people in the stands. Derrick also turned to see: besides himself and the 6 bust-giddy teenagers, there was a couple of middle-aged women, a girl who from her foot cast seemed to be one of players on injured reserve, and a much older man who was likely a parent of one of the players.
They both turned back to meet each other's eyes in unison. She came over to him.
Derrick was trying to get himself back into flirt mode--he'd forgotten how weird single life could be.
"Hey, so you were really, um, active out ther..."
She cut him off matter-of-factly. "Bustr?"
Derrick connected the dots (though still not the key one) and couldn't believe his luck. "Oh yeah! I still don't know how I feel about it--the only girls I've met on it have been fucking psycho, haha! Have you been on it for lo..."
"We have to make it quick, the second half's about to start," she insisted, pulling him to his feet.
As she led him by the hand around the back of the bleachers, Derrick was struck with how ill-prepared he was for this, the most casual sexual encounter of his life. A younger him would have fantasized about this moment, would have been horned up to the bursting point in watching the two halves of her booty slide up and down across each other before him. Instead, for some reason all of his thoughts concerned how much power those well-trained glutes could exert as he limped behind her.
Hell, he didn't even know her name!
She stopped and turned to face him, reaching out to grab both of his shoulders.
"Wait," he gasped.
"What?" she asked with impatience.
"I don't think I'm ready for this," his said, and hearing those words in his own voice was a new and strange experience.
She released his shoulders, but remained near--he took in her musky mid-game aroma of grass clippings and body wash. His heart was racing.
"Look, if you don't want it, you should set your account to 'recovery' mode," she chastised as she began to walk away.
He reached out and caught her wrist, causing her to stop again and regard his act.
"No, I do want it," he plead earnestly, looking into her eyes "I really, really do."
"Then what's the problem?"
"I guess, I don't know--I need to have a conversation first? Take things a little slower."
"Slower," she repeated, stealing a quick glance back to the field, then taking a second to size him up. Her look softened--she seemed to understand how he was feeling.
"Ok," she began, taking both of his hands in her own.
"Make yourself nice and wide," and gently tapped at the inside of each of his feet with her cleat until he had spread his legs wide, but not uncomfortably so, while also stepping back and pulling his still-clasped hands to the same width.
"Do you feel vulnerable like this?" she asked gently.
He did indeed. He nodded nervously. The schoolgirls had turned to watch with fascination from the top of the bleachers.
"That's good, if you accept this feeling, you can start to relax and enjoy it."
Derrick wasn't sure he completely understood, but just being in lower-stakes physical contact with her was helping to reduce his anxiety.
"Close your eyes," she insisted, and Derrick did.
"Think about your first time," she said dreamily, "think of that person, that moment."
Derrick conjured flashes of his second girlfriend, Kelly, and that upstairs guest room at his friend's party.
"Now remember how much you want it, and ask for that moment again," she continued, noting the growing bulge above his more relevant bulges.
Kelly was draped across the bed, beckoning to him.
"I want thi..." he was abruptly cut off by the sensation of her foot circling carefully along the underside of his ballsack.
"Relax," she cooed, "keep your eyes closed, I'm just teasing you a little." She smiled to herself, as he grew to full mast. He was going to be one of the better ones.
"Ok, now repeat after me," adopting as professional a tone as she could, "I want you..."
"I want you," he trailed.
She paused, considering. "...Melanie..." he seemed harmless enough to give him her name.
"Melanie," he repeated with a little smile.
"While I'm willingly standing like this, feet spread wide," she pulled his hands apart slightly more to emphasize his predicament.
"While I'm willingly standing like this, feet spread wide," Derrick wasn't sure why that phrase sounded hot, but chalked it up to the moment.
"Presenting my...generous...manhood," she said cheekily, admiring his package.
Derrick blushed. "Presenting my generous manhood."
Melanie cocked her dominant right leg back.
"To kick my testicles up into my throat," she concluded, taking aim.
"To kick my...wait, what?" Derrick opened his eyes just in time to see the blur of her cleats make solid contact dead center of his balls. The ref's halftime whistle joined with the ringing in his ears as he immediately collapsed in a heap. (No red cards were issued.)
From the ground he watched Melanie rush back to the game, and he began to black out.
"Oh my god! That guy's legit never going to have children!" He thought he heard among the snickering from somewhere above him.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Derrick was stood outside his front door, taking stabs at the lock with his key. He was still fighting through some residual double-vision--he hadn't realized that the crossed-eyes-nut-shot-reaction was actually a thing before today.
Just as he found his key into the slot with a satisfying clink, though, he watched as it began to turn of its own accord.
The door opened, and there was Stacey, backlit by the living room floor lamp.
Derrick assumed it was another of the hallucinations he'd been having on the walk home--a kind of post testicular stress disorder.
"What are you doing here?" she felt like both the most dangerous and comforting thing he could have in front of him at that moment.
Her eyes dropped with some embarrassment, and her socked feet shuffled nervously on the carpet. "Can we talk?"
He limped inside. "Ok, but I've got to get an icepack from the freezer first--you seriously can't believe what kind of hell I went through today..."
"I know," she said quietly as he made his way to the kitchen.
"...first, I basically got my nuts blasted by some random chick right by our elevat...," he stopped just as he was reaching for the freezer door.
"Wait, what do you mean 'you know'?"
She silently held up her phone, and mimed for him to do the same.
The Bustr map was open again, and there was a flashing pink dot in the same room as his static blue.
Derrick's eyes widened and he reflexively clutched to protect his groin. "Not again!" he cried.
Stacey suppressed a giggle at his ludicrous reaction. "No derr, what I'm trying to say is, I'm maybe not the totally innocent one in our breakup."
Derrick came over to her. She held her Bustr profile up for him to see while looking away in shame. Next to a series of badges that were seemingly unlocked achievements of some kind, her 'bust count' stood at 394. Despite the gravity of the situation, Derrick couldn't help but wonder if that number was meant to be divided by 2 to get the number of guys.
"I guess I didn't consider it cheating--but that was really a dishonest way of rationalizing it to myself," she lowered her phone again and looked in his eyes.
"And even though I was, um, 'meeting' these guys so hard that they would sometimes be curled up at my feet for minutes," she stepped closer to him, and Derrick's legs involuntarily drew inward, "(it turned out) it was you I was hurting most of all."
He wasn't quite sure what to make of it. "Stacey," he began.
Stacey was lost in self-wallowing. "I thought, 'hey! I'm the one who deserves some petty revenge! Just put him on there, I know how tender he is down there, and as soon as the first girl gives his family jewels a little tap, he'll get what's coming to him and that will be that,'" she buried her face in his chest. He began to comfort her out of reflex.
"But then after the first girl, you didn't sign off. And watching all those..." she struggled for the right word "...HUSSIES throw themselves at you," her snaked down to cup his testicles forcefully, "I started to get so jealous."
Derrick was concerned about her getting more riled up, with the way she had a grip on his nuts, and was thinking about how to subtlety change the subject.
She didn't let him. "But now that I know you like it," her eyes lighted up, but her grip stayed the same, and she paused, seeming like she was about to burst. "Oh Derrick! This is perfect! Do you forgive me?"
Derrick looked into her sweet, loving face, full of expectation. "I do, but, um..."
She lunged forward with a kiss, at the same moment she clamped down with hands--her fingertips almost instantly found and dug their way into the extra-sensitive backs of his balls with surgical precision.
Derrick whelped out of her kiss and collapsed to the ground.
"Oops! Haha! I guess I forgot about your day," she said without offering help to his pitiful form writhing at her feet. She unbuttoned her pants and let them drop next to Derrick's head, then doing the same with her top and began to walk toward the bathroom.
Derrick needed to clear up this misunderstanding now, or there would be disastrous long-term consequences for his balls. He mustered the last of his strength to get up to his knees.
And then he saw her shapely body shimmy across the living room and was transfixed. Somehow, his cock began to stiffen, and his arousal pulled his balls closer to his pelvis--which brought a new wave of pain that sent back down in a crumpled mass.
Stacey turned over her shoulder to regard him. "How about we celebrate tomorrow with some scrambled eggs? Ha! I'm sorry I'm so dumb sometimes--love you!" And she left the room.
https://twitter.com/CeleraPrime/status/1351125179859132417
(you should give her some love, she's fantastic)
I mean, it's not like Derrick didn't prefer that it had ended under different circumstances. Stacey was cute as hell, and that look on her face when she came in the room...ugh, like disappointing a puppy, one that you can't just wave your bag of treats in front of five minutes later to distract it back to happiness. But, like, guys have parts of them that they really can't do anything about, she has to know that. Besides, he really didn't even consider that shit cheating, anyway. When a girl is coming onto you that hard at a party, it's just going to happen--it's inevitable.
Anyway, things seemed to be ending amicably. Startlingly so, actually, considering she had been distraught for basically a week straight there. She had even offered to set him up on a dating app now that he was about to be single! If that's not some next-level baller shit, he didn't know what was. His ego was at full mast.
"Hey DerrDerr, I'm done packing, so let's do the profile now, ok?" she called from the bedroom they had shared for the last 6 months.
"Uh, I guess, but you really don't have to, you know. I can always just reactivate my old OkCupid or something."
She peeked her head around the corner to the kitchen where he was stuffing a bagel into a too-small toaster slot. She always did it in such a way that it left you wondering whether she was naked around that corner or not, which secretly thrilled him. Goddamn, he was going to miss her.
"You mean the one with the main pic from your frat boy phase? And that listed 'PAWGs n Rice' in your top 5 likes? Yeah, you're lucky any girl responded to that, my friend."
"Ok, fine. I mean, I guess it couldn't hurt, right?' Derrick relented.
A nervous smirk flashed across Stacey's face.
"Right, right. Exactly. Just come in the room, lover boy."
The room seemed so bare without her stuff. Derrick began to reconsider whether he shouldn't just try to make a case for them to try to work things out. I mean, she seemed to have basically forgotten the whole thing anyw...
Stacey immediately spun around and plunged her hand into the front pocket of his board shorts.
"Give me your phone." She demanded retroactively. Despite the phone being the only object in that pocket, her hand first found Derrick's testicles through the fabric, latching on and attempting to yank them out into the open.
"Definitely not my phone!" he squealed, slightly doubling over.
"Oops! Ah, right, rectangular is the shape I'm looking for," she released his shocked appendages and brought out the phone instead.
"Alright, let's make 'em thirsty," she began typing furiously.
Derrick had become accustomed to her seeming obliviousness of male anatomy over the months they'd been living together, but even by her standards her latest, um, 'incidents' had gotten ridiculous--didn't she grow up with 3 older brothers?
After a few seconds mostly spent rubbing the ache out of his bits, Derrick leaned over her shoulder to see what she was up to. Above some standard-looking empty profile fields, the app frame read 'BUSTR'.
"Bustr? As in 'busting a nut'?" he asked incredulously.
Stacey didn't look up from her typing. "That's pretty spot on, actually."
"Damn, that's pretty, um, direct."
Stacey stopped and turned to him.
"Hey, if it's not going to be me, I want to be sure someone's giving these bad boys some action." She lowered her hand to give his junk a loving caress that despite the tenderness still in his balls felt glorious. He closed his eyes to savor it, and the feeling disappeared, and when he opened them she was back to typing.
"Alright, so first thing: have you ever 'done it' and if so, how many times?"
"Whoa, this really does get right to the point, ha. I seriously couldn't even throw out an estimate. I dunno; do girls prefer a smaller or larger number?"
"I'm just going to put 'more than I can count ' and then a sweat drop nervous emoji so that it doesn't look like you're being too cocky about it."
"Smart."
"Ok, then there's a follow-up: 'ever with your sister?'"
"What!? The fuck kind of disgusting question is that?"
"Well, they have to account for their Alabama market, I'm guessing. But I'll check a definite 'no' on that one. And then, 'have you ever been hurt so badly that you felt like you needed to throw up?'" She looked up, genuinely curious about his answer.
"I...um," his mind started to spin staring into her eyes, as the finality of their breakup was just now hitting him. "I've definitely done things that I regretted so much, and hurt so badly, that I started to feel woozy and light-headed just thinking about it."
"Aww," Stacey cooed, staring deeply into his eyes. Derrick saw his chance to win her back.
"Stace--"
She snapped her head back down to the phone.
"So I'll put 'yes, and I couldn't walk right for a while afterwards.'"
"Umm, sure."
"Ok, number 4: list some identifiable traits"
"What's that for?"
"I think they're saying, like, what makes you stand out in a crowd."
"Oh, I dunno. I suck at describing myself."
"That's alright, I can do it for you," as her thumbs flitted across the screen, stopping periodically for her to look him up and down.
After a few of those pauses he went to check her list. "'My blue eyes, my spotless Nikes, and my <3 so big I walk like a goddamn cowboy', what's going on with that last one?"
"Your big heart, silly," she chided him.
"Oh, obviously, ha."
"Ok, so now the last section is about your ideal match. Clearly I might as well just list myself here," she said with the tip of her tongue poked out at him, "but they've also got some more, umm, specific questions that you probably need to answer for yourself."
"Like what?"
She cleared her throat theatrically. "'Which do you prefer: A. Foot, B. Knee, C. Hand, D. Other'?"
"Are they for real asking about foot fetishes or something on the first page of a dating profile?"
Stacey shuffled her own feet nervously. The jig might finally be up.
"Is ass on the list?" he asked with a shit-eating grin. She returned her own grin. The jig was not up.
"I'll go ahead and go with 'other' on that one, ha. So, then we add Likes/Dislikes for your 'type', and instead of PAWGs how about we write something like, 'I like a girl with strong lower body fitness. Soccer players, especially.'"
"Since when am I into soccer players?"
"Didn't you date a girl who played soccer once?"
"Yeah, but like for a week, and I think she just was like in an intramural league, or something."
"Too late, it's already typed. Ok, what about a dislike?"
"Umm, I hate it when someone doesn't really bring it in a relationship, you know? I want someone who doesn't hold back."
"Oooh, perfect! 'I don't want someone who holds back, I want someone to give it everything they've got.' That's going to get you some matches, for sure."
She finished typing and then the ready light of the camera came on.
"And now to seal the deal with some hot pics," she said, lining him up in frame and snapping it before he could barely react.
Then she dropped down on her knees and aimed the camera right at his crotch. "And one of the boys."
"What? Why?"
"Why do you think?"
"Oh, yeah, haha. Nice."
"Ok, but really present them," she said, as she deftly tucked the fabric of his shorts around his genitals to accentuate his bulge. She seemed to be paying more attention to the balls than he would, but he wasn't about to interrupt a girl on her knees fluffing his package for a glamor shot.
"Beautiful! Now cheese!" And she took the final picture.
She got up off the carpet and handed him back his phone.
"There you go, back on the market," she chirped.
As she stood there wearing her adorable little smile (and little gym shorts) Derrick felt another pang of regret.
"Look, Stacey, I..."
She cut him off. "Don't even say it. This is best for both of us," then made a quick motion to his junk "and both of them, haha."
She grabbed the last plastic bin of her stuff and walked to the front door. Then paused, and turned back to him over her shoulder.
"Oh, and Derrick?"
"Yeah?" he asked hopefully.
"I officially forgive you."
----------------------------
The next day, Derrick was stuck in his usual morning 'commute': waiting for the single working elevator in the building to wend its way to his 14th floor apartment. It could sometimes take half an hour or more, and left him with plenty of daydream time.
But all night his thoughts had been occupied by Stacey. And now he was reliving their games of 'elevator roulette', where they'd try to get in a quickie on the ride down--and just cross their fucking fingers at each floor that no one else would try to get on. Derrick began to stiffen.
A rumble in his pants broke his reverie.
The Bustr app was flashing a notification. He had completely forgotten about it during the night. The notification pulled up a map that quickly zoomed down to what appeared to be his building, with a blue dot and flashing pink dot tightly grouped together.
'The fuck does this thing need to track my location for?' he thought, more curious than peeved.
'I guess/assume the blue is me, but there's no one else here,' he thought, staring intently at his phone as the pink dot's flashing became more urgent.
Suddenly, the up arrow on the elevator lighted with a chime, and the doors opened to reveal a girl in her mid-twenties riding alone. She also had been looking at her phone. And as she looked up she noticed Derrick standing there with his app wide open and a look of surprise came onto her face.
They locked eyes and her look changed, as though she was expecting something from him.
"Umm, yeah, sorry, I actually need to go down instead, so..." Derrick began to stumble.
Without warning, she casually shot her foot out and into Derrick's sleepy balls, the residual chub of his daydreaming guaranteeing there was no other body part to absorb the impact.
Derrick's mouth fell agape and he dropped to his knees. The elevator's passenger stood there regarding him with a small smirk. She gave him a shy wave just as the doors finished closing and carried her to her mysterious destination.
Another wave of pain emanated from Derrick's berries and he went down onto his hands and knees to ride it out. After opening his clenched eyes, he noticed his phone on the floor in front of him that he must have dropped during the kick.
The pink dot began to flash more slowly and began moving off screen. In the corner of his profile, a counter with what he assumed was an upside-down bandaged-heart icon for 'likes' incremented to 1, and then the app closed itself.
------------------------------------------------------
Derrick eventually found his way downstairs, but not before another elevator had stopped at his floor while he was still clutching himself, and the half dozen schoolgirls inside could not suppress their giggles at the sight of him.
Carrying both a bruised ego and bruised nutsack, he decided he wasn't yet feeling quite man enough to practice his swing in the batting cages at the park as he'd planned. Maybe some coffee would get him back to sorts.
After a few blocks walking, though, he realized he was headed the wrong way. He stopped and started pulling up directions.
The GPS spazzed out after opening, and Derrick whipped his body around trying to get his bearings. At that moment, a woman's foot smacked into the fire hydrant he had been standing in front of with a dull clang. Derrick was oblivious to it and the subsequent muffled obscenities taking place behind him.
The glare from the Sun was making it impossible to see the screen, so he bent over with his legs splayed wide for support, until he could see the pin on the map again. After a moment it finished loading, and he snapped his body back into an upright position, inadvertently pulling his hips just out of the arc of that same woman's foot as it swing up towards him and whiffed like a cartoony strikeout. The same muffled cursing from behind him.
Suddenly, the Bustr app opened itself with another notification again. He had a new message!
'hey numbnuts! stand still dude.' The user was in anonymous mode.
That didn't exactly strike him as a pickup line. 'What? Who is this?' he shot back.
'it's your secret admirer ;p now, open wide...'
Derrick had had enough.
'Look, I dont know what this shit's about, but today has been all kinds of fucking terri...'
A feeling arose from between Derrick's legs, which his brain quickly identified as the becoming-way-too-familiar sensation of a woman's foot whipped into his plums. His twitching thumb sent the unfinished message, and the agony of this new misfortune of his boy parts quickly supersceded the last. She had kicked harder, into already-aching nuts, and her foot had found the tender backside of his testicles--which anyone with any experience in such matters would recognize as the holy grail of ball kicking.
Derrick skipped the hands-and-feet position altogether and went full fetal on the public sidewalk. He did not have the presence of mind to look back to the source of the offending foot.
After a few minutes, he was able to look up just in time to see the same gaggle of schoolgirls pointing and laughing as they passed him. He had a new message in Bustr. It was a selfie of a thirty-something brunette winking up at the camera with Derrick's crumpled figure framed in the background. The caption read:
'aww, im so sorry about your day. hope i was able to help spice things up a little! p.s. those were some ninja reflexes lol'
His oddly-shaped, upside-down heart counter was at 2.
--------------------------------------------
By the time he had arrived at the coffee shop, it was about to close--the best Derrick could manage was about 2mph without all of his unborn children reaching up into his stomach and bringing him to a halt with a grip of nausea.
He poked his head into the to-go window to see if he could flag someone down to take his last-minute order. In the back, two baristas were wrapping up their shifts. One seemed to be explaining something on her phone to the other, which the other was finding hilarious. Then they looked up to see Derrick's waving.
The blonde put away her phone and sauntered over.
"Hey! How are you doing? I should warn you, we're about to close." she said warmly.
"Oh, yeah, no problem--I'll take whatever you've got at this point, haha," he tried to exude a carefree confidence while bracing his still-wobbly legs against the wall.
She seemed to notice his condition. "Oh, I get it."
She smiled and looked down to enter his order, but instead of the coffee shop's cashier tablet, she pulled up her own phone, which struck Derrick as odd.
"Let's see: I can give you the usual, standard fare," Derrick's eyes wandered down the front of her shirt, into the peachy curves of her cleavage, before realizing she had stopped talking and was watching him. He met her eyes, slightly flustered.
"or maybe you'd like the 'other'?"
"Uh, sure! Yeah, I'm not picky, haha."
"Ok, wait over there and I'll be right over," motioning to a lone table on the far end of the patio.
"Ok, do you like need my name or payment or anything?"
She smiled half-amused, half-pityingly. "I got you, honey."
Derrick slumped down into the only chair that hadn't yet been flipped onto the table for closing. He allowed his legs to unhinge to maximum splay--even the slight brushing of his thighs against his nuts was pain. He found the perfect angle to let the breeze find its way up his pant leg--it was like a cool, ethereal tongue licking around his aching balls. It was all uphill from here, boys.
He expected the same girl who took his order to emerge, but instead her friend came out the door holding a tall cup of coffee, scanning around for the recipient.
He waved at her and she came. He thought about propping himself into a less, er, gonadally-confrontational position, but he just could not bring himself to move.
"Hi! You had the 'other'?"
"That's me."
She smirked. "Enjoy!" And she poured the piping hot liquid onto his waiting privates. Suddenly that icy tongue became a torrent of lava swallowing up hit nuts in escapable agony.
"Aahhhh!" he whimpered, accidentally smacking his junk in his efforts to pat himself dry.
The waitress watched him with amusement for a second, then admonished:
"Don't worry, its just water--it's not going to stain, ha. Oh, and by the way, Lindsey says that you should come in the early morning for this kind of thing, because she doesn't want her boss to see her doing this with customers." She set the empty cup on the table next to him and walked back into the shop.
His balls, already tenderized from the blunt ****** they had been subject to that day, were now also lightly scalded, adding a new dimension to the ache he carried.
Bustr popped open of its own accord, again. He had a new status update:
'lindsey_brews_bruises has steamed DerrDerr88's beans'
He turned the cup around. It read derrderr88 :) in immaculate Sharpie.
His counter was up to 3.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Derrick no longer had any intention (or capability, really) of getting into the batting cages--in fact, he toyed with the notion of never striking any ball-shaped objects for the rest of his life, out of solidarity.
But the shortest route home meant cutting through the park, and a land of cool breezes and low benches sounds like a veritable oasis to a pair of weary nuts. He spotted the nearest seat: the bleachers by the soccer field.
He gingerly brought his butt down onto the brushed aluminum, trying to time his descent with the pendulum swinging of his package and avoid sitting on...himself. At least this time Stacey would not be around to interrogate him about it--it seemed like she always immediately knew when he had mistimed his swing and then would be throwing dozens of questions for him about it while he's still trying to pull his flattened balls out from under his body weight.
With that bullet dodged, he could take in the pleasure of the icy metal through the thin fabric of his shorts. He let out an involuntary moan as he settled back in against the seat behind him, catching the attention of the group of schoolgirls sat higher up watching the women's rec league soccer match playing out in front of them. To any third parties, his moan would've come across as a fairly obscene ogling of the players in their tight uniforms, but Derrick was barely registering the women on the soccer pitch--he was just glad to have some relief.
One of the girls immediately recognized the dazed, half-conscious dude below her from earlier that afternoon, and elbowed her friend to relay her discovery.
Below, Derrick was gradually regaining his composure between throbs, trickle-charging his typical swagger.
"Hey!" a girl's voice called.
Derrick craned his head back to see who was calling him--he was not about to move from this life-giving position. By doing so, he had inadvertently put himself in full upside down view up one of the teenager's skirts--she quickly shifted upright uncomfortably.
"Yeah?" he called back, just realizing what he had done.
The lead girl responded. "Are you feeling better?" she asked with some genuine sympathy.
Derrick, distracted both by his aches and now the burned afterimage of panties, had not yet registered them as the girls from earlier.
"Oh, I'm good, just a little sore from loading all of my ex-girlfriend's stuff in her car," he crooned, deciding to both establish his single-ness and then douchily fantasize about how he would turn down the underage girls when they inevitably began to hit on him.
Her friend who was still feeling the violation of the upskirt saw right through him. "Oh, is that why you were curled up on the sidewalk like that?" She asked, bitingly.
The realization that they had all witnessed his humiliation hit him and his face began to burn.
"I was just playing it up for her, ok?" as he quickly sat back up and turned away from them. He thought about leaving, but he couldn't bear the thought of their laughs as they watched him hobble off.
Instead, he sat there as the 6 girls all began sharing every anecdote they could recall about seeing a guy get it in the groin, purposely loudly enough for Derrick to overhear.
"...so he's like, 'watch this' and tries to do a scissor jump on the beam and like completely slips and lands flat on his nuts!"
"Oh my god, haha!"
"And he's just frozen in place with this look on his face, and our coach, she's like 'well, now you all know why there's no balance beam in men's gymnastics' haha!"
Every giggle and breathless description (of each bust) dug his embarrassment deeper. If there was any doubt that they all knew and would each tell his story of having his deserving balls kicked so publicly in exactly the same way, it had completely vanished.
Suddenly, the halftime whistle blew and Derrick's attention was pulled back to the field. One of the midfielders, in her green top and white shorts and hair pulled back into a ponytail for the game, walked over to the her team's bench and began checking her phone while sipping from a squeeze bottle, not seeming particularly winded.
She had caught Derrick's eye to the point that he had almost forgotten why his face was still flushed with embarrassment--Derrick vowed to attend more rec league matches.
A second later, something on her phone seemed to catch her attention, and she looked up, as though scanning the park for something. Derrick watched as she held the phone out in front of her like a divining rod, following its directives with wavering confidence as it led her toward the bleachers.
She stopped in front of the first bench, and began to size up the smattering of people in the stands. Derrick also turned to see: besides himself and the 6 bust-giddy teenagers, there was a couple of middle-aged women, a girl who from her foot cast seemed to be one of players on injured reserve, and a much older man who was likely a parent of one of the players.
They both turned back to meet each other's eyes in unison. She came over to him.
Derrick was trying to get himself back into flirt mode--he'd forgotten how weird single life could be.
"Hey, so you were really, um, active out ther..."
She cut him off matter-of-factly. "Bustr?"
Derrick connected the dots (though still not the key one) and couldn't believe his luck. "Oh yeah! I still don't know how I feel about it--the only girls I've met on it have been fucking psycho, haha! Have you been on it for lo..."
"We have to make it quick, the second half's about to start," she insisted, pulling him to his feet.
As she led him by the hand around the back of the bleachers, Derrick was struck with how ill-prepared he was for this, the most casual sexual encounter of his life. A younger him would have fantasized about this moment, would have been horned up to the bursting point in watching the two halves of her booty slide up and down across each other before him. Instead, for some reason all of his thoughts concerned how much power those well-trained glutes could exert as he limped behind her.
Hell, he didn't even know her name!
She stopped and turned to face him, reaching out to grab both of his shoulders.
"Wait," he gasped.
"What?" she asked with impatience.
"I don't think I'm ready for this," his said, and hearing those words in his own voice was a new and strange experience.
She released his shoulders, but remained near--he took in her musky mid-game aroma of grass clippings and body wash. His heart was racing.
"Look, if you don't want it, you should set your account to 'recovery' mode," she chastised as she began to walk away.
He reached out and caught her wrist, causing her to stop again and regard his act.
"No, I do want it," he plead earnestly, looking into her eyes "I really, really do."
"Then what's the problem?"
"I guess, I don't know--I need to have a conversation first? Take things a little slower."
"Slower," she repeated, stealing a quick glance back to the field, then taking a second to size him up. Her look softened--she seemed to understand how he was feeling.
"Ok," she began, taking both of his hands in her own.
"Make yourself nice and wide," and gently tapped at the inside of each of his feet with her cleat until he had spread his legs wide, but not uncomfortably so, while also stepping back and pulling his still-clasped hands to the same width.
"Do you feel vulnerable like this?" she asked gently.
He did indeed. He nodded nervously. The schoolgirls had turned to watch with fascination from the top of the bleachers.
"That's good, if you accept this feeling, you can start to relax and enjoy it."
Derrick wasn't sure he completely understood, but just being in lower-stakes physical contact with her was helping to reduce his anxiety.
"Close your eyes," she insisted, and Derrick did.
"Think about your first time," she said dreamily, "think of that person, that moment."
Derrick conjured flashes of his second girlfriend, Kelly, and that upstairs guest room at his friend's party.
"Now remember how much you want it, and ask for that moment again," she continued, noting the growing bulge above his more relevant bulges.
Kelly was draped across the bed, beckoning to him.
"I want thi..." he was abruptly cut off by the sensation of her foot circling carefully along the underside of his ballsack.
"Relax," she cooed, "keep your eyes closed, I'm just teasing you a little." She smiled to herself, as he grew to full mast. He was going to be one of the better ones.
"Ok, now repeat after me," adopting as professional a tone as she could, "I want you..."
"I want you," he trailed.
She paused, considering. "...Melanie..." he seemed harmless enough to give him her name.
"Melanie," he repeated with a little smile.
"While I'm willingly standing like this, feet spread wide," she pulled his hands apart slightly more to emphasize his predicament.
"While I'm willingly standing like this, feet spread wide," Derrick wasn't sure why that phrase sounded hot, but chalked it up to the moment.
"Presenting my...generous...manhood," she said cheekily, admiring his package.
Derrick blushed. "Presenting my generous manhood."
Melanie cocked her dominant right leg back.
"To kick my testicles up into my throat," she concluded, taking aim.
"To kick my...wait, what?" Derrick opened his eyes just in time to see the blur of her cleats make solid contact dead center of his balls. The ref's halftime whistle joined with the ringing in his ears as he immediately collapsed in a heap. (No red cards were issued.)
From the ground he watched Melanie rush back to the game, and he began to black out.
"Oh my god! That guy's legit never going to have children!" He thought he heard among the snickering from somewhere above him.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Derrick was stood outside his front door, taking stabs at the lock with his key. He was still fighting through some residual double-vision--he hadn't realized that the crossed-eyes-nut-shot-reaction was actually a thing before today.
Just as he found his key into the slot with a satisfying clink, though, he watched as it began to turn of its own accord.
The door opened, and there was Stacey, backlit by the living room floor lamp.
Derrick assumed it was another of the hallucinations he'd been having on the walk home--a kind of post testicular stress disorder.
"What are you doing here?" she felt like both the most dangerous and comforting thing he could have in front of him at that moment.
Her eyes dropped with some embarrassment, and her socked feet shuffled nervously on the carpet. "Can we talk?"
He limped inside. "Ok, but I've got to get an icepack from the freezer first--you seriously can't believe what kind of hell I went through today..."
"I know," she said quietly as he made his way to the kitchen.
"...first, I basically got my nuts blasted by some random chick right by our elevat...," he stopped just as he was reaching for the freezer door.
"Wait, what do you mean 'you know'?"
She silently held up her phone, and mimed for him to do the same.
The Bustr map was open again, and there was a flashing pink dot in the same room as his static blue.
Derrick's eyes widened and he reflexively clutched to protect his groin. "Not again!" he cried.
Stacey suppressed a giggle at his ludicrous reaction. "No derr, what I'm trying to say is, I'm maybe not the totally innocent one in our breakup."
Derrick came over to her. She held her Bustr profile up for him to see while looking away in shame. Next to a series of badges that were seemingly unlocked achievements of some kind, her 'bust count' stood at 394. Despite the gravity of the situation, Derrick couldn't help but wonder if that number was meant to be divided by 2 to get the number of guys.
"I guess I didn't consider it cheating--but that was really a dishonest way of rationalizing it to myself," she lowered her phone again and looked in his eyes.
"And even though I was, um, 'meeting' these guys so hard that they would sometimes be curled up at my feet for minutes," she stepped closer to him, and Derrick's legs involuntarily drew inward, "(it turned out) it was you I was hurting most of all."
He wasn't quite sure what to make of it. "Stacey," he began.
Stacey was lost in self-wallowing. "I thought, 'hey! I'm the one who deserves some petty revenge! Just put him on there, I know how tender he is down there, and as soon as the first girl gives his family jewels a little tap, he'll get what's coming to him and that will be that,'" she buried her face in his chest. He began to comfort her out of reflex.
"But then after the first girl, you didn't sign off. And watching all those..." she struggled for the right word "...HUSSIES throw themselves at you," her snaked down to cup his testicles forcefully, "I started to get so jealous."
Derrick was concerned about her getting more riled up, with the way she had a grip on his nuts, and was thinking about how to subtlety change the subject.
She didn't let him. "But now that I know you like it," her eyes lighted up, but her grip stayed the same, and she paused, seeming like she was about to burst. "Oh Derrick! This is perfect! Do you forgive me?"
Derrick looked into her sweet, loving face, full of expectation. "I do, but, um..."
She lunged forward with a kiss, at the same moment she clamped down with hands--her fingertips almost instantly found and dug their way into the extra-sensitive backs of his balls with surgical precision.
Derrick whelped out of her kiss and collapsed to the ground.
"Oops! Haha! I guess I forgot about your day," she said without offering help to his pitiful form writhing at her feet. She unbuttoned her pants and let them drop next to Derrick's head, then doing the same with her top and began to walk toward the bathroom.
Derrick needed to clear up this misunderstanding now, or there would be disastrous long-term consequences for his balls. He mustered the last of his strength to get up to his knees.
And then he saw her shapely body shimmy across the living room and was transfixed. Somehow, his cock began to stiffen, and his arousal pulled his balls closer to his pelvis--which brought a new wave of pain that sent back down in a crumpled mass.
Stacey turned over her shoulder to regard him. "How about we celebrate tomorrow with some scrambled eggs? Ha! I'm sorry I'm so dumb sometimes--love you!" And she left the room.