A Night With Strange Sympathy - (Valentine's Day Special) Female Perspective - Sensual Ballbusting - Fiction
A Night With Strange Sympathy - Female Perspective - Sensual Ballbusting - Fiction
*Author's Note: I wanted to make sure to stop in and give my readers something special for today. If you don't have someone special to share Valentine's Day with and want some company this is for you. Of course anyone is welcome to read it. However I should warn you this is designed to be kind of like a hangout for people who are fans of my work so if you've never read anything from me then this might not be for you as I do mention my writing a lot. I try to keep it kind of intimate the whole time but the sensual ballbusting doesn't happen until the end.*
*Since I wanted this to be long without getting tedious I switched the writing style as I changed from topic to topic. I've added section breaks so if you don't like how a certain section is going you can easily see where the next one starts.*
Introduction
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I'm walking home and it's snowing outside. It feels weird, almost nostalgic. Like the first snow of the winter as a kid. I used to love the snow... Of course now as an adult it's more of a pain than anything. It sure does look nice though.
The piercing cold cuts through the fog of the THC high from my post dinner toke as I descend the stairs to my basement apartment. The door knob is cold on my bare skin as I open the door and enter my kitchen.
It's like descending into a different world. As I cross the threshold of the doorway I feel myself crossing from the outside world and all of its stress, judgement and overall unpleasantness to my private sanctuary where I can just be myself and it is enough.
I feel a flash of disdain as I think about the day but I force those thoughts out as I slide the deadbolt shut. I turn off my phone and now I am fully submersed into this world where it's just me and my thoughts.
I take off my shoes and coat and wash my hands. I put on a pot of coffee and turn on the heating pad that I keep by my desk. I put on a cozy sweater and my sweatpants and...
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What am I forgetting? Ah yes, I don't smoke in my apartment, so edibles it is. Gotta plan ahead. It's going to be a long night of writing and I just write so much better when I'm high. It just makes me more creative... That and makes me more empathetic and helps me process all of the junk I've got floating around the murky depths of my mind. They get stirred up when I write this stuff... Does anyone else get that when they are reading or writing these stories? I'm not really saying it's a bad thing. It helps me figure a lot of shit out about myself. Since I started writing, I've come a long way when it comes to accepting this part of myself that scared me for a long time.
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I'll stop that now, it's not why I invited all of you readers into my home today and I know damn well that is not why most of you clicked on this story. So now that I've got my coffee on my desk and my heating pad on my lap it's time to write. First to set the ambience, fireplace crackling, rain sounds, cozy piano music and some nice scenery on my 2nd monitor of a cozy winter cottage.
I pull my drawing tablet closer to me, swiveling its arm mount. It's weird to think I used to make art on this thing. I haven't done that since I started writing all of these stories for you guys. That's ok though, my work here is more important.
Getting in the mood
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Ahh... You know when you're having sex and you feel those shudders of pleasure that spasm through your body and momentarily clear the thoughts from your mind and for a moment you feel weightless, as though you are free of all of your troubles? But then not even a second later everything rushes back in and weighs you down again? Sometimes I feel like that in my head when I get into the mood to write these stories.
If I really want to get into it then I really need to get in the right mindset. When I write my more traditional stories it is done like an art form, carefully crafted in a way that I hope will be appreciated by connoisseurs of such content. I do it from a more objective point of view, spinning a yarn and reaching into your mind to thread those different parts together that shouldn't be connected but somehow they just are. Some pain here, some domination there, a heap of humiliation, a grim hint of past trauma tied to some fucked up shit that happened to you once, a dash of taboo... I adjust the tension until it hits that perfect balance that generates creepy shivers of arousal that run down your spine and make you feel so wrong in all the right ways.
One might assume I enjoy imagining myself in the female role. Let me tell you, putting myself in that mindset is not something I can do for very long. The things that you like about the way it makes you feel: the exposed, trapped, shameful feelings. The fear and helplessness. The unfairness of it all. I get it babe and I'm right there on the ground with you. You see, the thing that gets me off about these stories is actually empathizing with the men in them.
I like exploring those kinds of ideas and seeing how they do from time to time but I can only write from that place so much. It makes me feel like a giant spider spinning a web and watching eager men jump into it. They beg me to devour them but I set them free because I just can't do it, I'm not that kind of spider. I just want to work on my web, I don't want to eat anyone. Can't we all just appreciate the beauty of the web?
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When I write my female perspective posts it's from this really horny, spontaneous mindset. There's no character or plot development, just raw passion. Nothing is planned, I just take a concept and run with it until the end and then look back in wonder at the odd place we ended up. It sure was a fun journey though, wasn't it?
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Then there's Strange Sympathy, my favorite, most intoxicating mindset. It's a bit of a journey to get there though. I need to travel back in time a bit. Not too long ago, shortly before the world changed. At the time I was going through my own major life changes. Something that appeared to be a massive loss from the outside that ended up being the removal of a massive weight from my back. A longer leash, a bigger, fancier cage and the looming excitement of undiscovered promise... I stumbled forward into my new life unsure of what to do so I just sat still...
A new discovery unlocked! But it wasn't my achievement... I'm the thing being discovered. This is weird, I'm usually the one doing the discovering, but I don't hate this... He's been looking for something like me for years. I fit his specifications perfectly and here I am just sitting here, as though I've been waiting for him this whole time. He's aware I have some internal damage but he's got some ideas about how he's going to fix that right up for me. I can tell his methods are going to be about as effective as him trying to use his bodily fluids to salve the wounds of my emotional pain.
He's in pain too and he knows that if he can just get his hands on me he can use me to take away all of that pain. He's convinced that if us being together can heal his pain then everything will just fall into place and fix me too. He can't wait to get me home to him... there are just some logistical issues separating us but that can all be easily taken care of. All I need to do is say the word...
The thing is... I know that his motivations are selfish. He isn't self aware enough to see how selfish they are. He really does want to help me. He can recognize my pain and he says he wants to help but I need to want it too... and I do want it. In that moment I want to be with him more than anything but not because I actually want to be with him... I just want to make him happy. I only want to give him what he wants. Sure, others have wanted me before but not like this and to be desired so desperately is... intoxicating.
I can already see the infinite outcomes being generated, multiplying in front of me and showing me all of the different ways that things will turn out badly and in spite of it all there is a force inside me, driving me to make the wrong decision. My self destructive streak and my people pleasing tendencies teaming up against my better judgement... I've told him no so many times. "Please... let me love you... I just want to hold you close and make you feel safe," he begs, convinced that holding me in his arms will ease the loneliness and fill the emptiness he's felt inside for years. I can feel the longing in his voice on the other end of the call and it breaks my heart.
But enough about that. This story really isn't about all of that and if I let myself get carried away talking about it I'll go on forever. I'm just telling you how I unlock my empathy.
I see a face, I hear a reassuring voice, a few notes of music... the memories come in flashes and the emotions wade in and out like waves on the shore, slowly eroding away at the surface below like fine sandpaper... I feel something break inside of me. I hear a tearing sound like a thin rubber barrier being broken. Then there's this weird flood of warmth as my empathy releases in a torrent. It starts in my head then covers my shoulders and tugs me downward like a weighted blanket. I feel submissive and vulnerable but also warm and secure. My mind feels like it's floating and I'm not me anymore. I feel my consciousness floating around like a fish swimming in the water. Exploring the scenes with different camera angles and zooming in and out of the minds of the two main characters:
Dave, a character of my own invention who I have tortured by giving him this terrible past, I just want to live in this bubble with him and hold him forever. I imagine just holding onto him tightly and time stopping and trapping us in a dimension that occupies the space between the seconds of the ticking clock. A space where pain and trauma don't exist and we can just be at peace. But I have big girl responsibilities and can't just hang out in THC induced bliss all day so Lauren is a broken little part of myself I have sent to keep him company and once this is all over I guess I'll see how that broken part of myself comes out in the end. I can already tell it's not the same as it was. Will it come out fully healed? Still as broken as it ever was? Completely destroyed?
If you can relate to Dave's trauma and pain then Lauren is for you too. If you have ever wished that someone could comfort you about this kind of stuff, that is what Lauren is for. She's here to tell you that what happened to you is wrong and that you didn't deserve it. You deserve love and respect. You deserve to feel safe in your own body. Someone should have stuck up for you. I wish I could have been there for you Sweetheart.
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Sometimes I just get high, unlock my empathy and see where the mood takes me and now that I covered my full range of mindsets to get through that last section I think that's the best course of action. Just see where my mind takes me. I float around between multiple documents, writing down all sorts of notes and ideas. I keep this one document open where I just rant about things from the past. If I don't get that shit out of my head I can't concentrate on anything else.
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My Fantasy
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Well now that my writing session is over I guess it's time to have my own fantasy and go to sleep. Would you like to join me for it?
Okay, I'm going to open the door and let you in now.
I offer you a glass of wine and we sit in my living room to talk for a bit. There's really only one thing that we know we have in common. The conversation leads to you telling me about the painful and embarrassing situations you've endured in the past. Your mom, your sister, the mean girls at school... The assaults, the threats, the feeling of insecurity... The fear, the humiliation, the shame... Feelings that you've been carrying with you ever since...
Have you ever seen someone who was been hurt emotionally by grief, pain or trauma and all you wanted to do was hold them and comfort them in an effort to erase the pain, at least for a little while? That is how I'm looking at you now Babe.
I can feel the empathy pump through my chest and my eyes smolder as I look in your sad eyes. My mind is vibrating with the emotions I feel. There isn't a lot I can do for you in the grand scheme of things but right now I hope I can just give you a safe space to feel validated.
I have this cozy little spot in the corner of my living room. It's a mattress on the floor with a bunch of pillows and blankets. I nap there sometimes when I get too high to sit up straight. There's this big grey reading pillow, it looks like the bottom half of a huge teddy bear and it's sitting on the back corner of the mattress.
You lay down and lean back against the reading pillow. I cover us with a blanket, cuddle up next to you and hold you in my arms. My breasts are pressing into your upper arm, my head is nestled against yours. I kiss the side of your forehead and I hope you can feel the love that's pouring out of my soul. It's not a romantic type of love. It's this deep, raw, compassionate love that just wants you to be happy.
My empathy high makes me feel like I'm in a haze that blocks out the rest of the world. You are the only thing that exists to me right now. I hold you in my arms and whisper in your ear:
*I'm so sorry Baby. I'm sorry for the pain and humiliation you felt. It wasn't fair. It wasn't funny. I'm sorry they hurt you. I'm sorry they laughed. It never should have happened. Someone should have stopped it.
I care that this happened to you Sweetheart, it was so wrong and you didn't deserve it. I hope you know that.
I've got you Sweetheart. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you.
Please let me love you. I just want to hold you close and make you feel safe...*
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You ask me to play with your balls so I reach down and feel your soft cock through your pants and gently touch your balls with my fingertips. I see you tense up a bit and throw your head back slightly. You let out a soft moan as an excited shiver runs down your spine. I keep lightly stroking, almost tickling your cock and balls through your pants. Your body loosens up as you enjoy the sensations. I pull my hand back and tap it into your crotch. Tap... Tap... Tap... I can feel myself getting wet. I give you a light slap and ask if that was okay. You reply "Yes, harder please."
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We head to the bedroom and tear off each other's clothes. We're laying in bed and you ask me to squeeze your balls. I grab onto them and gently squeeze. I let you know that you can play with my tits if you want to. You eagerly jump at the chance. I tell you I'm going to slowly start squeezing harder and harder and I want you to tell me when you want me to stop increasing the pressure. I close my hand around your balls and as I tighten my grip I pay attention to your body language. I feel you flinch and see a look in your eye. I know it's time to stop before you even need to say anything. I lessen my grip a little, looking into your eyes questioningly. You nod.
I massage your testicles and let you play with my boobs for a while. After I let go, I put my leg between your legs and bring my knee up to your balls so that it's barely touching them and I hold it there. Just feeling them against my skin is making my pussy hungry. I press my toes into the mattress and flex my ankle. My knee presses into your balls but it's not hard enough to squish them, they're just moving around. I keep lightly pressing my knee into your balls. You grab onto my thigh and jam my knee into your balls and grind into it.
I can feel your hard cock bouncing against the top of my thigh. Your cock! I totally forgot about it until just now. Let me take a look at you Babe... You have a really nice cock Honey. It's the perfect size. Would you like to put it inside of me?
*Author's note: Sorry if you wanted something harder guys I had this whole other idea planned out with an alternate ending but I ran out of time unfortunately and in the spirit of the holiday I thought it was better to focus on positivity. I still plan on using the idea for the alternate ending but it will be its own story.*