Brianna Sees Her Father Get Kicked - Part Two

The moment Claire stepped into the morning sunshine to water the hanging baskets a feeling of hope washed through her. The air was warm but the light breeze, cool on her skin, caused a ripple of goosebumps to rise on her bared shoulders. The air was so fresh she wanted to bottle it and save it for those sticky, humid August days she knew were coming. This is how it feels to be alive, she thought as she waved the gently misting hose from basket to basket. As if in affirmation, Claire watched as the peonies perked up under the spray, their velvety pastel purples and pinks coming to life. She glanced around and found it wasn’t just her flowers bursting with color. The whole neighborhood seemed to shine, houses basking like silent rectangular bodies in the early sun.


A gleam caught Claire’s eye and she looked past the porch to where her husband’s Lexus convertible was parked. Like everything else around her, the sleek vehicle, with its metallic finish, glittered in the daylight. How great would it feel to put the top down and speed along the curvy, winding roads deep in the heart of horse country as the miles of wooden fencing whizzed past as the wind sent her chestnut hair soaring behind her? It had been a long time since Claire took a drive for pleasure. she realized, and a feeling of nostalgia crept into her.


How carefree she’d felt as Trevor expertly handled every bend, rise and dip in the road, his twenty-three-year old reflexes alert to every change as they sped along. Of course, that had been in his old blue Mustang, the one he’d spent hours refurbishing, in a time before they were married and Briana was just a glint in their eye. A time, she thought, her head shaking wistfully, that felt like another life. Just two kids taking in the promise of a new day without a care in the world.


Suddenly, the desire to go back and reclaim that feeling struck Claire like a blow straight to her heart. She knew those days were gone but maybe, just maybe, the feeling wasn’t.


Staring at her reflection in the picture window, Claire felt herself straighten slightly at the sight of her body. Her hips were wider now than when she was twenty but they were still shapely, if a little full, and her legs were still lithe and toned, some kind of genetic gift that irked her female friends to no end. As she pushed her shoulders back, Claire breathed in deep causing her breasts to sit higher on her chest. While her legs may have been the envy of her friends, it was always her boobs that Claire took the most pride in. Even with the inevitable sagging that time so irritatingly provides, her breasts still maintained the round fullness of youth even if they did sit a little lower these days. Plus, she thought, smiling to herself, Trevor still couldn’t keep his eyes – or hands – off them.


Looking past her reflection, beyond the living room, Claire could see her husband’s back as he hunched over the island in the kitchen reading the paper as he sipped the pre-work coffee Claire knew was there but couldn’t see and, just like that, reality came rushing back. It was a silly notion, she understood. Trevor probably had a ton of work to do and there was no way he’d be able to break away for a nostalgic joyride. The spur of hope inside her dried up like the water from the hose she now gathered up into loose coils. Hanging it on the hook, Claire sighed and went back inside.


As she passed her husband, Claire noticed that his phone was face down. Usually, by this time of morning, Trevor was already answering texts or emails as he read the paper. Hope threatened to rear its head again as Claire tried to suss out the situation. She paused and glanced out the window. The sun was still shining in the high blue sky and she could see the wind chimes dancing ever so slightly. Was she really going to let this beautiful day get away? She took a deep breath, bracing for disappointment when an idea struck her. Without a word, Claire slipped away towards their bedroom.


Upstairs, in the neatly organized walk-in closet, Claire rifled through dresses like a teenager at a thrift store. Too formal, too short, too long, too old, too – wait, what about this one? She held up the yellow and white plaid patterned dress and sized it up. It had been a long time since she wore this little number. As she slipped out of her yoga pants and sports bra, Claire’s pulse quickened. What if it didn’t fit anymore? Stepping into it, Claire was relieved to find that it still fit, though a little more snug on the hips than she would’ve preferred. Still, the skirt flared out nicely as she moved around in it, the ruffled hemline ending at the bottom of her knee. But there was a problem with the upper portion. Claire needed a bra. Fortunately, the inch wide straps of the dress were wide enough to hide the straps of any bra she owned, so she didn’t have to worry about digging out one of those very non-supportive strapless numbers she had.


Rummaging through her drawer of delicates, Claire found the perfect bra. It was white, but adorned with glittering lace piping, which meant it was sexy but wouldn’t be seen through the thin fabric of her dress. After doing the clasps and taking care of the necessary situating of her heavy boobs, Claire pulled up the dress front and stepped in front of the mirror. There was no doubt, this was the right combination. Her cleavage was deep and the tops of her breasts showed nicely above the square cut of the neckline, but her bra remained covered. Claire twirled once and watched the skirt swirl. As it flared, Claire was pleased to see that it revealed plenty of leg but not her panties. She had some modesty after all.


Now for the shoes, Claire thought, making her way back to the closet. She had some in mind, a pair of shiny, plum-colored heels, if she could only find them. After digging through at least ten boxes, she finally found them. Claire had forgotten they were the kind that had thin straps which wrapped around her leg just above the ankle, thinking instead that they were just your standard heel. However, when she tried them on, she was really happy as they were definitely better than she’d remembered. Something about those straps made the muscles in her calves pop while at the same time making her ankles appear quite delicate. If Trevor could pry his eyes away from her tits, Claire was sure he’d be just as delighted with her legs.


Trevor was still at the island, his phone still face down, when Claire slipped in behind him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently as she did, and he turned his head. After a double take, Trevor swung his whole body around on the bar stool. Claire looked breathtaking.


“Wow,” he said, his eyes widening. “You look amazing! What’s the occasion?”


Claire batted her long lashes. “Oh nothing,” she said, playing coy.


“Oh really,” Trevor said, cocking his eyebrow. “Is this just some new thing you’re doing where you dress like the sexiest thing on two legs just because?” He asked with humored sarcasm. “Because if it is, I’m fine with it.”


Claire laughed and with the way her husband was smiling at her, she wondered why she was so nervous to ask. “Actually, Trev, I had a little thought while I was watering the flowers.”


When she didn’t elaborate, Trevor asked, “And?”


Claire bit her lip, giving Trevor her biggest puppy dog eyes. “Well, I was wondering. It’s a most glorious morning and while I was outside I felt the urge to maybe go for a drive. Just the two of us. Like old times,” she added.


“You know I have to work, right?” Trevor said, though his eyes, currently swimming in her cleavage, seemed completely uninterested in this fact.


“I know,” Claire said, her voice on the brink of sounding pouty. “But you never take a day off. C’mon, whaddya say? Let’s go be young again!”


Taking his wife’s hands, Trevor rose from his seat and let his eyes rove up and down her body. “Well, how can I say no to this?” He asked, grinning as Claire’s eyes lit up. “Give me one minute,” he said, grabbing his phone. As he strode off toward his home office, Trevor called out over his shoulder, “Nice shoes, by the way.”


Claire looked down at her feet and turned her feet in and out. They are, aren’t they, she thought to herself. They came to a nice rounded point, which meant her toes weren’t crowded and the height of the heel caused the top of her small foot to curve upward, leaving a hollow dip, like a shallow tea cup where her arch ended and her toes began. What Claire really appreciated about her high heels was that the spike was thick enough to provide balance without looking chunky and they weren’t so high that her ankles felt like breaking when she walked.


True to his word, Trevor walked up to his Lexus one minute after leaving his wife in the kitchen. He stopped short when he saw Claire was already outside and leaning against the driver’s side. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, smiling and shaking his head at his jokester of a wife, as he made his way around the car.


When he reached her, Claire dangled the key fob in front of him on her fingertip. “I feel like driving,” she said, pulling the key fob away just as he reached for it.


“Funny gal, aren’t we,” he joked, but there was an edge underlying his smiling eyes. He looked over his shoulder. “Your car’s in the garage then.”


“It’s too nice out not to drive the convertible,” Claire protested, dangling the fob an inch above her cleavage. “And I feel like driving.”


Trevor studied his wife for a moment, trying hard not be distracted by the thought of his car key dropping into Claire’s lush cleavage. “C’mon, Claire,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “You know I don’t let anyone drive my car.”


While there was still a grin on her husband’s face, Claire could tell that he wasn’t going to back down on this one. Even though she knew his rule, the disappointment still stung. Why was he so damn protective of his stupid car? Claire rued. She was about to toss the key at him, probably harder than necessary, just to make a show of her irritation, when it hit her.


It used to be true that no one ever drove Trevor’s car. But that had changed, hadn’t it? It was only a few weeks ago that their daughter, Briana, had driven it. As Claire remembered that afternoon, her posture stiffened as a swell of confidence rose inside her. If Trevor couldn’t physically drive his car, someone else would have to. And thanks to what had happened at the store, right in front of Bri, Claire knew exactly what she needed to do to put herself in the driver’s seat.


Claire looked at her husband and his grinning mouth, but no-nonsense eyes and let the rush build inside her. She put on a playful smile to keep him from realizing what was really going on inside her head. And while it was hard to not let the excitement show, Claire bottled it up – outwardly anyway. She almost laughed out loud at the fact that he clearly had no idea what was headed his way. As they stood there facing each other, Trevor with his hands on his hips, growing less patient by the second as he waited for Claire to hand over the key, Claire just kept smiling as she sized up the distance between them.


The anticipation of her foot connecting with the heavy bulge between her husband’s legs made Claire’s pulse race and her own legs tremble. The shallow cup between the top of her foot and her toes would be perfect for trapping his balls right before she smashed them against his body. As much as she wanted to freeze this moment and live in the delight of knowing what she was about to do, Claire knew it would feel even better to actually do it.


As her husband’s grin drooped into the beginnings of a scowl, Claire’s leg drew back, her plum heel streaking in the sunlight. In the fraction of a second before she swung it forward, Claire saw her husband’s eyes go wide in terror with the understanding of what was happening. She felt her pulse quicken to the point it might explode in her chest as a feeling of pure power churned inside her at the sight of the fear rising in his eyes. It was just the burst of energy she needed, like nitro boost to a car, as she channeled every ounce of strength and power down her leg into her foot.


Claire drove her leg forward, gritting her teeth, her brow furrowed in concentration, as her high heel-encased foot found purchase in her husband’s groin. She kept her leg straight and firm, her dress flaring out to reveal the taut muscles of her thigh, as her foot crushed his balls, trying to drive them up his throat and out the back of his skull. The only thing that gave was Trevor’s body as his feet momentarily left the ground, suspended only by his testicles being smashed by his wife’s dainty, heel-clad foot.


As Trevor’s feet returned to earth and her own foot dropped from between his legs, a surge of ecstasy welled up in Claire. She knew intuitively, and in an instant, that she had kicked his balls harder than she ever had, that they had spread, flattening into thin discs as her foot smashed them into his body. And judging by the stricken look on her husband’s face, he felt it, too. Good, she smiled to herself. She wanted his balls to hurt in the worst possible way. Her glossy, full lips parted further, turning Claire’s grin into a full-blown smile attesting to the satisfaction she felt towards herself at what she’d done.


Her eyes drank in the look on her husband’s face, also a testament to the proper job she’d done on him, as the flash of fear in his eyes transformed into an expression of complete distress, revealing his utter regret as well as the intense pain ravishing his injured testicles. For a brief moment his body went rigid, every muscle tensed, his head thrown back, and Claire could see nothing but pure pain etched on his clenched, but handsome face. Every ounce of her husband’s pain reverberated through Claire’s body in the form of exquisite pleasure and her body quivered with delight. It was a strange, but wonderful twist of the universe that allowed for a woman to feel so great while leaving the man to feel so terrible after she busted his balls, Claire thought.


But all too quickly his body caved, his muscles turning to jelly as the breath went out of him. Trevor’s face pinched, his eyes squeezed shut, as he brought his hands toward his groin, his legs already falling out from under him. Claire watched her husband’s fingers curl around his balls as he instinctively tugged them up tightly against his body and her heart leapt knowing the only thing he could do was hold them and hurt.


Taking a step closer, Claire clasped her hands between her legs, causing the soft fabric of her dress to bunch up against her thighs, and bent over her husband’s lolling head, feeling ever more powerful as she loomed over him. So many thoughts raced through her brain as she considered what to say. As if she needed to say anything, she thought, smiling to herself. Wasn’t simply standing there, completely unaffected and relaxed, towering over her husband as he trembled on his knees with his nuts firmly in hand, groaning miserably between labored breaths, better than any words? And yet, Claire felt like she had to say something. She peered down at Trevor, studying his defeated posture, listening to his guttural sounds and she wondered.


“Did I kick them hard enough?” She asked in her most cloyingly sweet tone, like how she imagined an angel, in all her doe-eyed innocence, might sound – for Claire knew she had. Trevor’s face snapped up, and just for an instant, Claire could see the rage revealed in his glare, like a wounded animal, but then he dropped his head again without answering her. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” she said, not hiding the amusement in her voice.


Something shiny caught Claire’s eye and her gaze shifted away from her husband. It was the silver ring attached to the key fob of Trevor’s Lexus. She squatted down and scooped it up. Resting easy on her haunches, Claire found herself eye level with her husband. Gently, she placed a finger under his chin and lifted his head, forcing him against his will to meet her eye. She smiled sweetly at him and then dangled the key on her fingertip. “Looks like I’ll be driving after all,” she cooed.


This time Claire found no rage in her husband’s eyes. Instead, there was an irritated look of regret, like he detested the fact that he’d let himself be put in this position. Claire found the sight amusing. Instead of being angry at her, it felt like he was blaming himself for what had happened. He wasn’t entirely wrong, she mused. He could’ve just let go of his obsessive need and let her drive from the get-go. But, then again, it wasn’t like he kicked himself in the nuts. That had been all her. She put a hand to her mouth to stifle a chuckle as a thought occurred to her. Just imagine! To have a girl bring you to your knees with a swift kick in the balls and then to blame yourself and not her! Priceless.


“I...I can’t.” Trevor mumbled the words, squinting at his wife out of one eye.


Claire’s eyebrows furrowed with her lack of understanding. Can’t what? She wondered. Let her drive? Her eyes narrowed as a feeling of annoyance grew inside her. She’d just crushed his balls and he still wouldn’t let her drive? She glanced down at his covered crotch and wondered which would hurt worse, broken fingers or his nuts. Because she was ready to kick them again.


Following his wife’s gaze, Trevor grew immediately alarmed. With all the strength he cried out, “No Claire! Please! It hurts so bad. I really don’t think I can take the drive.” He looked at her with pleading eyes.


As quickly as it registered to Claire what he’d meant, that he wasn’t being insolent, she let her foot clack back to the concrete, having already drawn it back slightly in preparation. When her eyes met his, there was only sympathy in them for her poor, ball-busted husband – and maybe a hint of disappointment at losing the opportunity for rediscovering youth. For a moment she cursed herself for kicking him so hard that it ruined her chance for that joyride she was craving but then, shaking herself from her pity party, Claire let her resolve kick in.


“Oh babe,” she said calmly, “don’t think that. You just need a minute to get past the worst of it.”


Trevor’s voice returned to a raspy whisper as he looked at her with wounded eyes. “You act like I just bumped my knee on the coffee table or something. Claire, you really hurt me bad. I can feel my balls swelling in my hands. I think I might need some ice,” he added.


At her husband’s admission of how badly she’d hurt him, Claire’s spirit soared with delight. So great was her rapture that it took several seconds for the abstract idea floating in her brain at the last part of what he’d said to crystallize. Her eyes darted back to him. “Ice!” She cried. Shaking her head, Claire spoke in a firm, but gentle tone. “Yeah, no. I’m not getting you any ice.” As she spoke, Claire’s mind drifted back to the last time her husband’s testicles had swelled up gruesomely. He’d blown the biggest load she’d ever seen, shooting from his huge dick in ropy spurts, and she’d vowed to ride his cock to orgasmic heaven if they ever swelled like that again. This was her chance and she wasn’t going to let it slip through her fingers. “We’re gonna let those balls of yours swell up nice and big. I’m sorry if it means you’ll hurt more,” she said, though she wasn’t really sorry at all. When she noticed the woeful look in his eye, she added, “Have you already forgotten what happened only a short while ago?”


A glint rose in Trevor’s eyes as they softened at his wife’s reminder. He had not forgotten. But obviously, there were more pressing matters on his mind at the moment. Well, just one really: pain. Still, recalling the momentous release he’d experienced made him wonder. Could he survive this current agony long enough to experience it again? He grimaced at the thought. “I haven’t, babe,” he said, relaxing his features. “It’s just hard to imagine ever feeling good again at the moment,” he said, sounding sad.


Claire smiled at her husband. “I’ll bet you can’t,” she said smugly, though there was no meanness in her tone. “But you will. In fact, I think it might be good for you to go for a nice long ride. The cool wind in your hair might soothe away some of the pain.”


Trevor’s head sagged. “But I literally can’t physically drive right now.”


“You’re right, Trev. You can’t,” Claire agreed, flashing her husband a smirk. “But I can and I will. Because besides not being able to drive, you can’t stop me either.” And just in case he thought he could, Claire cocked her foot once more, the heel of her shoe pointing up to the sky, and let it hang in the air, like a cobra coiled and ready to strike, aimed directly at his groin.


Receiving her message loud and clear, Trevor gulped, the dour look on his face displaying his begrudging resignation. Claire was going to drive his precious Lexus and that was that. There was nothing he could do about it. “How do you think I’m even going to get in the car?” He asked, a mischievous grin appearing on his face, thinking he’d just thrown a wrench in her plans.


Claire rose, her chestnut hair swishing as she shook her head. “Well, you have two choices as I see it. You can let me help you around the car or I can just drag you over there by your balls,” she said evenly, as she held out an open hand, palm up, and then curl her fingers in a manner that conveyed a vise-like grip.


“Help me up then,” Trevor shot back quickly, not wanting any part of that grip his wife was demonstrating.


Trevor grunted in her ear as Claire strained to get him to his feet. She could feel the sweat bead on her forehead from the exertion. As she draped his arm around her neck, Claire felt a tickle as several stray beads ran down her collarbone and between her breasts where they were sopped up by her bra. She swept back the hair that had fallen over her face with her free hand and then dabbed at her chest to prevent further droplets from cascading into her cleavage. Bracing herself, she let Trevor’s tall frame rest against her and then inched around the car, leaning against the hood for balance.


Once they were around the car, Trevor leaned against the side of it as his wife opened the door. A sudden wave of embarrassment washed over him. Here was his wife, a female and so much smaller than him, having to do all the heavy lifting. He shouldn’t feel bad about it – after all, it was because she’d kicked him in the balls that he felt so weak – and yet, he still felt like he wasn’t doing his part. He looked at Claire, her auburn hair glinting in the sunlight, admiring her hourglass figure as her thin, lithe arms held open the door and resolved to himself to shun any further assistance. Though he groaned from the sharp pain that ripped through him as he lowered his body into the passenger seat, Trevor made sure that he got in all on his own. Was the pain really worth his pride? He wondered as Claire moved easily around the car.


“That wasn’t so bad,” she said, climbing behind the wheel and hitting the ignition switch. “Was it?”


Trevor shook his head as if to say, ‘what do you know?’ but held his tongue. When he saw Claire fumbling at the console buttons, he reached over and pressed the one he knew she was after. Sunlight filled the inside of the car as the roof peeled back overhead and Trevor shot his wife a know-it-all grin.


“Oh don’t look so smug,” Claire shot back before adding, “At least I don’t have to sit here holding my poor ballsies because they got just got kicked really hard.” She grinned when she saw her husband’s smug smile turned down into a chastened frown. “Poor, poor baby,” she cooed, hoping to exacerbate his psychological discomfort. “Now, how about we get out of here.”


As she adjusted the rear view mirror, Claire happened to glance up at the house where a quick movement caught her eye. Her heart flip-flopped as she saw Briana’s gold-brown eyes, staring wide-eyed, for a split second before they disappeared from the second-story window. How much had the girl seen? Claire wondered. She took a calming breath before putting the Lexus in reverse. A she backed the car into the street, she stole another glance at Bri’s window. It was empty. Claire put the car in gear, pressed the pedal and the Lexus accelerated right along with her heart. What if Bri was watching when she kicked Trevor?


As the car reached speed, Claire heard her own voice echoing inside her head. ‘So what?’ she heard it say. And the more Claire thought about it, the more ridiculous her moment of panic seemed. By the time they exited their subdivision, Claire felt much better. Maybe it would be for the best if Bri saw everything. Besides, she should know, if she didn’t already, who wore the pants in the family and if that meant seeing her mother kick her father in the groin, then so be it. One day Bri would be the one wearing the pants in her family and that meant she needed to know it was okay to kick a man in his balls. In fact, Claire thought, it was more than okay. It was necessary. After all, hadn’t she known that already when she was Bri’s age?


With a sidelong glance at her husband, Claire found him with his head back and eyes closed as the wind ruffled his thick hair, the sunshine warming his face. Only his hands, still clutching between his legs, still testified to his pain. Claire maneuvered around a curve as her mind drifted back to those years gone by and, as the horse farms whizzed past, she smiled, letting the memories flood into her.


Of course, after all that had just transpired, it didn’t surprise Claire at all that the first one to come to mind was after their first nighttime drive in young Trevor’s blue Mustang. He’d pulled off into a vacant field, lit only by the millions of stars above, the radio playing love songs, and put the car in park. She remembered him helping her out of the car as he asked for a dance and she’d obliged. At first, they just swayed in each other’s arms as the tinny music played softly from the dashboard speakers. Slowly, though, Trevor’s hands found their way up to her young, perky breasts, cupping them timidly, which was something she was not yet ready for him to do. She pulled his hands away gently, but soon they found their way back. He was smiling at her, nervous but hungry and she knew he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer.


Claire watched two sleek horses munching grass as the Lexus sped deeper along the empty country roads. She sighed happily, almost a purr, as she remembered exactly how she’d made Trevor stop. Instead of removing his hands again, she’d let her hands unclasp from around his neck and slide onto his shoulders. As her grip on them tightened, she took the opportunity to make an introduction: his balls to her knee. Oh how furious he’d been. When he tried to lash out, she kneed him again. Still, the rage was visible in his eyes, though they were clouding over from the pain. He took another feeble swing at her which she dodged easily and then sent her knee slamming into his balls one more time. This time, he dropped. Claire remembered how disappointed she’d felt after the fight went out of him. It was exciting to see him sink to his knees in pain, but she’d really been hoping he needed a fourth. It had started out as an exercise in teaching the young man some manners but quickly escalated into something more. For Claire, it just felt so good each time his balls had compressed against her knee, like something was giving, and loving the fact that she was smashing the organs responsible for his wandering hands and his macho rage and making them hurt terribly. Oh how she’d just wanted to keep feeling that amazing sensation over and over.


Claire chuckled to herself. Looking back now, she would have encouraged young Claire to have a little patience. But how was twenty-year old Claire to know she’d spend a lifetime enjoying that feeling? She looked at her husband, whose balls had most often been on the receiving end, and smiled. A feeling welled up inside her and she found herself now hoping that Bri had seen what she’d done to him – and more, that she liked what she saw. Bri’s whole life was ahead of her and, in Claire’s opinion, she should experience every bit of the joy Claire had. And that meant Bri needed to get started soon. Time slipped by so fast and there were so many balls out there to bust.