Briana Sees Her Father Get Kicked

Claire looked over the steam rising from the sink basin, her hands protected from the hot water that would have scalded them raw had she not been wearing her rubber gloves, and watched through the window as her husband pulled into the driveway. Something about the speed of the vehicle caught her attention and her interest only grew as the car screeched to a head-snapping halt. It was out of character for Trevor to treat his prized Lexus with such carelessness.

Using the back of the rubber gloves, Claire wiped away a thin layer of steam fogging the window pane trying to get a better view as a stray ringlet of auburn hair spiraled loosely over her brow. The driver side door flew open as a whirl of strawberry blonde hair followed. Claire’s eyebrows raised in surprised. Why would Trevor let someone else drive his precious car? With her brain fully engaged in solving this minor mystery, it took a few seconds for Claire’s subconscious to identify the driver. And when she did, her mouth hung open. It was their daughter Briana. Even with four years of driving under her belt, Trevor had never let his daughter drive his Lexus. Why now?

As Bri made her way around the hood of the car and over toward the back deck, Claire’s eyes settled on the passenger side. The door swung open slowly and gently bounced several times against her husband’s body which was struggling to exit the vehicle. When he finally made it out of the car, Claire watched as he put one hand on the roof and took several deep breaths. To her he looked very uncomfortable and a pang of concern ripped through Claire as she feared he was having a heart attack. But then Trevor closed the door and moved slowly in the direction his daughter had taken. Was he limping?

Before Claire could make a determination, a staccato blast, the screen door slamming, interrupted her thoughts and she turned in the direction of the sound ready to scold the girl, just waiting for Bri’s head to pop into view. She was about to speak when Bri beat her to it.

“Sorry Mom!” She called from around the bend in the hallway. “Didn’t mean it.”

As Bri materialized, her brown-gold eyes looking exasperated behind the mess of strawberry blonde locks that framed her pretty, freckled face, Claire cut her reprimand short. “What is it, Bri?” The girl didn’t look particularly worried, but she also didn’t seem her usual self, which, these days, meant being aloof and disengaged most of the time, avoiding eye contact at all cost. But the fact that she’d preemptively apologized and actually stopped to face her mother told Claire something was going on. “Is your dad okay?” She asked, her mind once again fearing the worst.

“I guess,” Bri answered, shaking her head in sad wonder, her eyes studying the kitchen floor.

When she looked back at her mother, Claire nearly stumbled back against the counter top. The look of exasperation was back, but there was also a hint of mischief accompanying it causing Claire to recall the old saw about the cat eating the canary. Whatever had happened wasn’t good but it couldn’t have been that bad either with Bri’s shit-eating grin. “You guess?” Claire asked, probing for more details.

Bri brushed away a shock of hair and rolled her eyes as the mischief drained out of them. “Dad got kicked in the balls again,” she elaborated, once again shaking her head as if she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.

“Oh,” Claire said. “Oh my.” She looked at her daughter, but then glanced away, uncertain of what she should say.

“Yeah,” Bri said, trying to gloss over the awkwardness, “he was trying to be funny and it kinda back-fired. A few weeks ago, I showed him this video on TikTok where this short girl was trying to get something from the top shelf but couldn’t reach. This tall guy walks by and sees her struggling so he reaches up and grabs the item. When she looks at him gratefully, instead of giving it to her, he tosses it into his cart and moves on down the aisle. It was pretty funny,” Bri admitted, chuckling at the memory. “Anyway, Dad thought it would be funny to re-enact it while we were at the store when we saw a lady in just such a predicament. So he reaches up and grabs the box of minute rice but instead of handing it to her, he gives it to me and then stands there with that stupid ‘dad’ smile he wears whenever he tells one of his lame jokes. The lady was just standing there looking shocked, her eyes all wide but then I see this hard look come into them. Before I could warn Dad, she hauled off and kicked him right in the nuts.”

Claire gasped and put a hand to her mouth, not even noticing the taste of soap suds on her lips, her mind reeling.

“God, Mom, you should’ve heard it. It was the hardest thwump I’ve ever heard. Dad dropped like a rock, rolling around on the floor. I thought he was gonna puke. The lady kinda sneered at him and then glared at me before swiping the box out of my hands and stalking off.” Suddenly, Bri started laughing. Even when her mother glowered at her, Bri kept laughing. “I’m sorry Mom. I know it’s not funny but it kinda is.”

“Briana!” Claire scolded. “Your father might really be hurt.”

Bri stopped laughing. “You’re probably right. I mean, he did let me drive his car because he said he didn’t feel up to it. Plus, he did groan a lot on the way home, especially when I kept hitting all the bumps in the road.”

Just then, the sound of the screen door shutting – a much gentler click this time – caused Bri to clam up. She leaned further into the kitchen, giving her dad some extra room as he limped past intentionally keeping his head down as he slipped past his wife and daughter. As he did, Bri’s face stretched into a sympathetic, but almost comedic, grimace as if to say ‘yikes, looks like it hurts’.

“Babe?” Claire called, looking past her daughter. When she got no response, Claire sighed and began pulling off the rubber gloves.

“You gonna check on him?” Bri asked. “He didn’t look too good.”

“I saw,” Claire said curtly. “And, yes, I think I will.”

As Bri walked off, Claire set the gloves on the counter next to the sink and slipped off her apron, staring at the window. As worried as she was, it was a relief to know that at least it wasn’t a heart attack. Trevor would survive. But he had to be hurting. So why, she thought, catching a faint reflection of her face in the glass, was she smiling?

By the time she made it upstairs, Trevor was laying on the bed, curled up on his left side. He didn’t look up as she softly closed the bedroom door and slid onto her side of the bed.

“Bri told me what happened,” she said in a calm voice. She wanted to say ‘I’m so sorry’ as she rubbed his back but instead she heard herself say, “Honestly, Trev, you’ve got to stop getting your balls kicked in front of our daughter.” Claire felt her husband’s body shudder under her hand. He turned at looked at her and the resignation in his eyes coaxed a sympathetic smile from her.

“Tell me about it,” he sighed, favoring his wife with a sad smile.

“It’s like the third time this summer,” Claire said, sounding as exasperating as her daughter while shaking her head in the same manner Bri had.

“Well, you could’ve helped with that,” Trevor said, his eyes narrowing in spite of his jesting, thinking back a few weeks.

“Me?” Claire gasped, feigning innocence though she knew damn well what he was referring to. “Hey,” she said before Trevor could roll his eyes, “may I remind you that you started the argument in front of Bri, not me. I merely ended it.”

“Oh right,” Trevor said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But you didn’t have to end it that way.”

Claire chuckled lightly. “Oh come on. Like you really wanted Bri to see us getting all worked up and nasty with each other,” Claire paused and arched an eyebrow at her husband. “I saved you from that in the quickest, most effective way possible by simply driving my knee fast and hard into your balls. You dropped and the argument stopped.”

Trevor shook his head in mock disgust. “I was right, though,” he said, though not very boldly.

“I bet your nuts would disagree,” Claire said, chuckling. “Speaking of your nuts,” she said, switching gears, “are they hurting pretty bad?” As she spoke, Claire made an obvious show of letting her eyes slowly drift below his belt.

Though shifting his position resulted in another spasm of pain, Trevor gritted his teeth and pushed himself up against the headboard even as Claire moved lower on the bed, her head now hovering over his groin. Holding his balls tightly with both hands, Trevor nodded. “Yeah. I’m kinda surprised how much to be honest,” he admitted.

Claire looked up at him as a twinge of panic swept into her eye. “Aw babe,” she said, trying to keep the nervous edge out of her voice, “maybe we’d better take a look.” Before he could answer, Claire was already undoing his belt.

After helping him shimmy out of his trousers, Claire looked at the bulge resting in her husband’s hands. Though she was concerned for his well-being, the sight of it stirred up her libido. She’d always thought that his testicles were out of proportion with his penis, but considering how thick and long – not to mention satisfying – it was, the chances of having a sack big enough to match it were highly unlikely. But now she was thinking otherwise. His balls were stretching the fabric of his boxer-briefs taut and she could see they were twice their normal size. She reached for them but stopped when she noticed the panic in Trevor’s eyes. “It’s okay Trev,” she said, her eyes warm with care. “I’ll be gentle.” She felt his muscles relax slightly and took the opportunity to pull his hands out from under the tender package he was cupping. With trembling fingers, she gently reached into the fly of his underwear and guided his testicles through the opening. As much as she wanted to touch his dick, she felt it was best to keep it where it was, tucked out of the way.

Claire’s eyes went large and she gasped as she took in the sheer size of her husband’s swollen balls. Usually she could hold them both in one hand, but now, each of her tiny hands could hold only one. She fought the urge to bounce them in an attempt to gauge their weight, knowing how much that would hurt her husband. Claire chuckled to herself thinking it would have been nice to turn the tables considering how often Trevor jumped on the opportunity to sidle up behind her and heft her breasts, murmuring with pleasure at their heaviness. But mercy prevailed and, instead, Claire held them tenderly, gazing intently at the purplish discoloration and the way his scrotum shined, the skin stretched tight from the swollen orbs it held. The woman must have really kicked him hard, she thought, completely amazed as she surveyed the damage. No wonder Bri thought he might puke.

“Oh shit,” Trevor groaned.

Claire looked up at her husband and saw the color draining from his face as he saw the results for the first time. She leaned forward, arching her back slightly to allow the top of her dress to hang open hoping to give Trevor an eyeful of her cleavage and distract him for the moment. As his eyes drifted onto her chest, she said, “I know it looks bad, babe, but you’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

She tried to sound sincere when she spoke, but the truth was, Claire was far from certain that he would be okay. She sneaked a glance back at his groin and took a mental snapshot. Though, in the present, she was worried, she wanted to remember how incredible it made her feel to see her husband’s balls so big and swollen. They looked as if they were filled to bursting with a gallon of cum – in each one! Despite knowing this was not the reason for their huge size, Claire couldn’t stop herself from imagining her small hands hands stroking her husband’s thick shaft until his dick erupted, shooting gooey ropes of cum all over her. Of course, that wouldn’t happen until after she’d ridden him to multiple orgasms herself as she visualized him taking a hard kick in the balls from another woman and falling to the floor, once again experiencing the hard truth of feminine power.

“Babe, stop, please.”

The sound of Trevor’s groaning, anguished voice cut through Claire’s daydream and she looked down to find her hands clamped around his testicles. “Oh god, Trev. I’m sorry,” she said, releasing them immediately as he exhaled in a gasp, cupping his re-injured nuts. Claire let her body drop so that her breasts flattened slightly against her husband’s chest and then kissed him tenderly on the lips. To her relief he didn’t resist, though his return kiss was more feeble than usual.

“Apology accepted,” he said, savoring the sweet taste of Claire’s lips, after his wife pulled away. “But seriously, you know my nuts are killing me.” He clenched his jaw as if to illustrate his point.

“I guess I got carried away, babe,” Claire said, raising her eyebrows. “It’s just so...so…, well, exciting.”

Trevor’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s exciting?” He asked, searching his wife’s eyes.

Claire stared back at her husband feeling helpless as to how she might explain it. There was so much she could say. Propping herself up on an elbow, Claire reclined next to Trevor, tracing small circles on his chest as she thought about what to say. It wouldn’t feel good for him to hear how much she liked knowing he got his balls kicked and lord knows he was already feeling bad enough. But it was the truth and, besides, he asked.

“You know how crazy I am about that big dick of yours,” she started, thinking a little sugar might help the medicine go down.” He smiled, but Claire could see still see a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “Well, with your balls all huge and swollen I can’t help but believe you may have the most perfect package in the history of the world.” She laughed as his eyebrow shot up at her hyperbole. “It’s true! Huge balls and a fat, long cock. It’s a dream,” she said, beaming beatifically.

“If you say so,” Trevor said, enjoying his wife’s words as his suspicions melted away. “So, what I’m hearing you say is you wish I had bigger balls?” He teased.

Claire pressed her finger harder into his chest. “Careful buddy boy. You know what I’m saying.” But she was smiling. A thought popped into her mind and her smile transformed to a wry little grin. “You know,” she said, pausing to let some tension build, “with balls that big, I bet I’d never miss.” When Trevor rolled his eyes, she could tell he was trying to play it off. But there was a definite hint of fear lurking behind his bright blue eyes. She decided to bring it to the surface. Looking up at the ceiling, she murmured, “Imagine how great it would be to know that whenever I slammed my foot or drove my knee into your balls, I would be guaranteed to leave you in pain!”

“You rarely miss as it is,” Trevor deadpanned, though the idea terrified him.

“True,” Claire said with a devilish smile. “But then again, I’ve had a lot of practice.” She leveled her gaze on him, daring him to defy her.

Considering the position he was in, Trevor opted to favor his wife. “You certainly aren’t shy about busting me. Regardless of the situation,” he added, thinking back to all the awkward situations Claire had left him in.

The one that always came to mind was on their wedding day. Their wedding day! Claire had smeared cake on his face, so he returned the favor, thinking it would be funny. When her knee smashed his balls, he’d realized he was wrong. He could still hear the gasps of all their guests as he sank to his knees, icing dripping stupidly from his face as his hands prioritized clutching his balls over wiping it away.

Of course there was the one in front of Bri the other day. That was beyond a little humiliating. More of their arguments than Trevor cared to admit had ended with Claire walking away on those sexy, toned legs, a righteous, angelic smile on her face, while he curled up on the ground with his balls filling his hands as excruciating pain flooded his brain. Sometimes, he wondered, whether or not she goaded him into arguments simply for an excuse to kick his balls. Maybe one day he’d tell her, but she probably didn’t need to know that no excuse was needed. If she wanted to kick them, she could. It was his problem he had such easy targets to exploit, not hers. But still, Bri had always looked up to him and when her mother dropped him with a sharp knee as Bri looked on, Trevor couldn’t help but wonder if some of his esteem diminished in her eyes that day.

But the worst one had come ten years ago on New Year’s Eve. They were at a good-sized party, he in a tux and Claire in a slinky black dress with a slit up the side that ended just above her hip so that when she walked you he could see the bare flesh of her lust-worthy ass. He was talking to Megan, the wife of a mutual friend, and lost track of time. As midnight hit, Jim, the husband, swooped in to give his wife Megan a kiss. Trevor had just stood there blankly, feeling stupid and completely unaware of Claire’s approach. It was until he found himself sprawling into the kissing couple that he understood what had happened. Instead of a midnight kiss, Claire had come up from behind and blasted his balls into the new year. He’d never heard Megan laugh so hard and he’d never been in so much pain.

He caught Claire studying him and Trevor wondered if she knew what he was thinking. Would she think the consternation on his face was just a result of his current pain? Her question told him her mind was elsewhere.

“And yet,” she said, looking disconcertingly rueful, “in all the times I’ve busted your balls, they’ve never swelled up like this before. What was she wearing? Steel boots?”

Her question surprised him and it took him a minute to answer as he tried to remember what kind of shoes the woman was wearing. “Actually, they were those, uh, oh what do you call them? Not Mary Janes.” He looked at Claire for help but then it came to him. “Doc Martens. I think they were that kind.”

“Oooh,” Claire whispered, cringing a little. “Yikes. Those are some hard-toed shoes. But still, she must’ve really nailed you square.”

The way her voice rose at the end made it sound like more of a question than a statement, like Claire wanted more details. Trevor groaned inwardly but acquiesced. “She smashed both of them into my pubic bone. It was like I was choking on them,” he confirmed, trying not to get queasy as he relived the sharp, nauseating pain it had cause him. “I almost blacked out,” he added, shaking his head.

“Was she hot?”

“What?!” Trevor barked, incredulous. How was he supposed to answer that? When he found Claire’s eyes locked on him, though, he knew he had to answer. “She was attractive, yes, but nowhere near as beautiful as you.”

“Mmm hmm,” Claire said as her brow arched. “You can save the flattery.”

“No, seriously,” Trevor said, reaching out and pushing a few strands of hair from Claire’s face. “You know I’m crazy about your chestnut hair. She was a blonde. She was wearing a tank top and tight jeans. Her boobs weren’t as big as yours but still too big for her frame. She kinda had a big ass, too, I think but my perception might have been distorted considering I only saw it after she was walking away.”

“Like fat or thicc?” Claire asked, trying not to sound jealous but secretly pleased that the woman sounded like the epitome of femininity. Imagining her husband getting his balls kicked by a big-boobed blonde had its appeal.

“Uh, thicc, I guess. Why?”

“Oh no reason really,” Claire said airily. “I guess I’m just curious. How short was she?”

“You’re what, five six, five seven?” Trevor asked. When Claire nodded, he said, “then she must’ve been about five one or five two. Pretty short. Like a full head shorter than Briana.”

Claire shook her head in wonder. “Absolutely amazing. A five foot blonde with a big rack kicked your balls so hard that they’ve swollen to twice their size. Good for her.”

Though his wife’s words sounded like high praise for the girl, not to mention difficult for Trevor to swallow down, he detected a false note in there. “Oh my god Claire, you’re jealous aren’t you?” He said it in a jesting manner, but they both knew he was needling her.

Instead of getting worked up at his teasing, Claire sighed. “Dammit Trev. I hate when you’re right. Fine,” she said, sitting up, “While I’m glad it was a woman that did this, I can’t help but wish the woman was me. I want to be the one to make your balls hurt so bad.”

Much to his disbelief, Trevor found himself consoling his wife. “Aw babe, you’ve made my balls hurt a lot worse. Trust me. A lot worse. Remember New Year’s?”

Claire’s face brightened momentarily but then turned pout-y again. “Of course I do. But your balls only bruised up with maybe a little swelling. It seems like you should be hurting a lot worse now.”

A staccato blast of laughter burst from Trevor’s lips. “I can’t speak for the swelling or bruising or anything but I am being completely honest here. I had no idea you were gonna kick me that night and between the shock and surprise and the perfect placement of your foot, my balls damn near exploded. I’m pretty sure I cried.”

Now Claire was laughing. “You totally did, you’re right. I mean, you weren’t sobbing or anything but there were definite tears rolling down your cheeks. Huh, maybe you’re right. Thanks, babe!”

“Um, you’re welcome?” Trevor asked, not sure if this was something to be thanked for or glad about.

As Claire leaned forward, she clasped her hands around Trevor’s neck and pulled his face to hers. To Trevor, she smelled like lilacs as her hair fell about his shoulders. She kissed him tenderly, her lips lingering on his.

“What was that for?” He asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“For making me feel better,” Claire answered, whispering in his ear. “For having the courage to admit I make your balls hurt, even more than some bimbo blonde, and for taking it. I love you.”

With her warm breath tickling his ear and her syrupy sweet words, Trevor was unable to control himself. His cock filled until it sprung past the waistband of his boxer-briefs, making a beeline for his chest. His balls hurt, but his need was greater. He caught Claire’s eye and encouraged her to follow his gaze. A small smile crept onto her face when she saw his arousal.

Without a word, Claire slid down his body and set everything free. She teased the meaty tip of his cock with her tongue for a few seconds and then let it fill her mouth. She could feel the veins in his shaft pulsating as she worked her tongue, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on his swollen testicles. It must be strange to be a man, she thought as she sucked his dick. One minute a woman can shatter your world with a solid kick in the balls and the next, she can make you feel like you’re in heaven.

As much as she may have wanted to, after what had happened and all the ensuing talk, Claire knew her husband couldn’t handle it if she busted his balls again right now. It wasn’t the same rush as dropping a man, but it was still thrilling to know that she alone had the power to make him feel his best or make him feel his worst. And now, in her mercy, she chose to offer him pleasure.

It’s your lucky day, babe, she thought as she felt him beginning to climax. You got to experience the awful pain that comes when a woman kicks you in the balls and you got to experience the sheer bliss of a woman’s full lips around your big dick.

The instant her mouth lifted from his engorged penis, her hands were already stroking. Claire heard the pleasurable moans and quickened her pace. Trevor was on the edge, his body trembling. The proverbial dam opened as load after load of thick, gooey cum shot from her husband’s cock, coating her dress and breasts and oozing into the valley between them.

Wow, Claire thought, feeling the sticky warmth all about her chest as she studied her husband’s ball in amazement. Maybe getting his balls kicked so hard did produce enough cum to make them swell so big. She bit her lip to keep a happy cry from escaping her.

If he wants to cum like that every time, it looks like I’ll just have to keep kicking his balls harder than I ever have before, she thought as the voice of John Mellencamp sang silently in her brain. “C’mon, baby, make it hurt so good.”

“You can bet I will,” Claire said to herself, grinning like the happiest girl on earth.