Performance Art

I walked onto the stage. The lights were bright in my eyes. I scanned the faces in the audience, but I couldn't see them in the dark. My armor clanked as I walked to the front of the stage and stood there with my legs apart and my hands behind my back, facing the audience, waiting. I knew the audience was looking me up and down. I was dressed in flashy medieval-style aluminum armor that Ava and I had made specifically for this performance piece. Underneath it, I was wearing my boxers. And over my boxers, I was wearing a plastic athletic cup.

After a few seconds, Ava Jensen walked out onto the stage. I kept facing forward, but I knew the audience would be startled, at least if they hadn't heard about the details of the show beforehand. Ava was completely naked. She walked over to stand next to me, in a similar pose, and together we stared out into the crowd with blank expressions on our faces. Behind us, our musician Claudia played a single note on the cello.

After a minute of silence, Ava and I turned to face each other. She was absolutely beautiful, with pale half-Asian skin, long legs, perky breasts with small dark nipples, and a waterfall of dark brown hair. It was Ava who had come up with the idea for this performance, as part of her senior project. I was just a friend she had convinced to do the piece with her.

Ava and I stood with our legs apart and our hands behind our back, as Claudia played a few phrases of music on the cello. Then Ava nodded to me. I stepped forward and kicked her between the legs with my armored calf. The audience gave an audible gasp.

The aluminum plate smacked into Ava's bare crotch. She grunted and grimaced, making no effort to hide the pain I had caused her. This was an essential part of the performance. Having taken my turn, I stepped back and stood with my own legs spread for several moments. Then I nodded to Ava.

Ava stepped forward and swung her leg up into my crotch. Her naked shin made contact with my athletic cup, and I felt a shock and a wave of pain shoot through my balls. The cup protected me from injury, but it transmitted a lot of the impact to the testicles beneath. I staggered and winced. Then after a moment, the nausea hit, and I bent over slightly at the waist, breathing heavily.

Ava gave me a few moments to recover, then stepped back to her position. Claudia's cello made some sharp notes. Then Ava nodded to me again. I stepped forward and gave her another armored kick right in the vagina.

Ava gasped sharply and bent at the waist, moving one hand in a sort of protective motion over her crotch. I felt a pang of guilt for kicking her, like I always did. But this was the point of the performance piece. It was all about how women have to face men alone and unprotected in the world, while men had the "armor" of society and patriarchy protecting them.

Then it was Ava's turn to kick me again. I steeled myself (no pun intended), and she gave me another full-force boot to the cup. The pain shot through me, and I whimpered slightly. My knees buckled a little, and I struggled to stay on my feet. Like Ava, I moved one hand around to my groin, though it didn't help.

Ava gave me time to recover, then assumed her position again. As I prepared to give her another kick, I started to have the same problem I often had during these performances. I started to get hard. After all, there was a beautiful naked girl standing right in front of me, looking incredibly exposed and vulnerable. And I had to admit there was something a little erotic about us kicking each other in the genitals.

I kicked Ava a third time. The kick wasn't quite at full strength, because of the discomfort of the erection inside my cup. But she still doubled over and cried out.

I was supposed to kick Ava hard. Her being hurt was an essential part of the performance, because it showed her own vulnerability. In fact, the performance only finished when one of us fell down, and it could be either one of us. We had done this performance five times already, and one of the times she had actually been the one to go down. Man defeated woman.

But not usually. Usually, it was Ava sending me to the floor, despite my cup. The point was that women manage to overcome their social disadvantages, because of their natural strengths, and men were weak despite all of their shiny armor.

Ava was red-faced from the pain. I'm sure I was too. I nodded to her, my legs spread, feeling my dick stir inside my cup. I knew my erection was going to push the cup away from my balls a little bit, making her next kick even more painful. I readied myself for the inevitable.

Ava stepped forward and delivered an absolutely picture-perfect kick directly up under my cup. I felt it bounce against my balls, and I made a strangled cry of pain as a blinding flash of pain shot through my lower body. I doubled over, whimpering, and my hands came around to hold my crotch. Then the second wave hit, and I knew I couldn't stay on my feet. I collapsed to my knees, then leaned over until my head hit the floor.

Walking over to me where I was writhing and gasping for breath, Ava put her foot on top of my back and pressed downward. I collapsed onto the floor of the stage, and she stood over me in a victory pose. Even through the pain, I wished I could see that pose.

After a minute or so, the pain receded, and I managed to struggle up to my knees. Ava leaned over and lent me a hand, pulling me to my feet. Together we faced the audience and bowed, as Claudia played the finale. There was thunderous applause. Then together we exited the stage. My balls hurt every step of the way.

Out in the lobby, people were lining up to compliment Ava. I stood there with her, still in my armor, since it took a long time to change back into my clothes. She was wrapped in a bathrobe. Artists and students and people from the community were all telling her how brilliant the piece was. Only a few talked to me, and usually just to express sympathy for how much it must have hurt to get repeatedly kicked in the balls.

After about half an hour of that, we headed out. I went back to the changing room and changed out of my armor, still moving a little gingerly from the lingering pain in my balls. Ava came in and changed back into her clothes beside me, Back in our normal clothes, we hugged each other.

"You were so good," she said.

"It was all you," I told her. "You're the artistic genius, I just had a handy pair of nuts."

She laughed, and we hugged again. Our friends came in to congratulate Ava yet again, and told us about the big party that all the art majors were throwing to celebrate the end of the last semester of our senior year. We all said we would meet at the party in two hours.

"You headed home?" I asked Ava. "I can drop you off."

"Sounds good," she said, and we headed out to my car.

We joked and laughed during the whole car ride. But when it came time for me to make the turn toward Ava's house, she said "Actually, I'll go hang out at your place. It's walking distance from the party."

I nodded, and we went to my apartment. My roommate was out of town, so I had the whole two-bedroom to myself. As soon as we got inside, I opened a bottle of wine and poured us a celebratory drink.

"To kicking the patriarchy in the balls," Ava toasted. We clinked glasses and drank. We finished that glass and poured another, talking about our friends and their art projects and our plans for the year after college.

Then Ava took the glass out of my hand, and set it down on the table next to hers. She leaned forward and kissed me directly on the lips. I was very surprised, but I kissed her back. We had never hooked up or done anything sexual before, other than kicking each other in the crotch on stage, if that counted. I had always thought Ava was gorgeous, but we had always been just friends. Maybe she had always wanted something more?

"I've been waiting to do that for a long time," she said. "Me too," I said.

Then she looked straight at me with her big liquid brown eyes, and said "Let's do one more round."

"What do you mean?", I started to ask her, but then I realized what she meant. "Oh, I see. OK, I'll go get my costume." I started to turn away to find it.

"No," she said, grabbing my chin and pulling me back to face her. "Without the costumes."

"Wait," I said. "You mean...without a cup?" I immediately felt terrified at the thought.

She nodded. "Just one time," she said.

I gulped. "Uh...I don't know if my bare balls can take an Ava Jensen kick. Your shins are as hard as a rock."

"It'll be OK," she said. "At least you won't have a boner inside your cup."

I felt my face get hot. "How did you know?", I asked.

"It's alright," she said, grinning. "I knew you were horny. I was too. It just wasn't as visible."

I suddenly felt very horny at the thought that Ava had been wet during our performances on stage. I wanted this amazing woman more than anything right now. I'd even let her kick me in my unprotected balls.

"OK," I said. "Last round."

I got up and walked over to the living room. I took off everything except my boxers, and stood in the typical position with my legs spread and my hands behind my back. As I watched, Ava stripped, tossing her clothes off dramatically one by one. Her long naked body was even more beautiful in the soft light of my living room than it had been in the harsh light of the stage.

I tried to focus on Ava's nude beauty instead of the agony that was imminently coming to my groin. I usually started off the round by kicking her, but apparently she was intent on going first this time. I guess it was better to get it over with. Ava's face was flushed with wine and excitement, and she had a huge smile on her face.

"For art," I said, giving her a nod.

She laughed, and stepped forward and kicked me in the balls.

I instantly felt the difference from not wearing a cup. My balls weren't just bounced around, they were squished like two delicate fruits by Ava's hard shin. I immediately fell to my knees, clutching myself. Then I toppled over onto the rug and writhed as waves of pain ripped through my body. I felt tears flowing down over my face, and I made continual whimpering sounds.

Ava bent over and held me gently, rubbing my back and my head while I struggled with my ball pain. I don't know how long I was down, but it was a lot longer than it was on stage. After what seemed like an eternity, the pain receded from all-consuming agony to a sick, dull throb throughout my entire lower body and abdomen. Ava brought me an ice pack from the freezer, and I put it between my legs. That helped a bit.

Ava leaned over and kissed me on the mouth. Even in my agonized condition, that was very nice. I tried to focus on making out with Ava while my balls slowly recovered. I realized that she hadn't put her clothes back on.

Somehow, making out with Ava helped me recover faster. She helped me up to the couch, and we continued to kiss there. Stuffing the ice pack into my boxers, Ava pulled my hands away from my balls and placed them on her breasts, which provided another welcome distraction. In a little while, the pain was starting to recede to a manageable level.

I looked Ava in the eyes and said "I am never letting you kick my balls without a cup again."

"That implies you'll let me kick you WITH a cup," she pointed out.

"Well, our show is over," I said. "We're not going to perform that again, and we can never do the same idea twice because it would be unoriginal."

"Who said anything about a show?", she asked, and kissed me again.

"That reminds me," I said. "I still haven't taken my turn."

"I haven't forgotten," she said. "Do you think you're recovered enough to kick my cunt?"

"I'm not going to kick it," I said, playing with her dark hair. "See, I got the point of the piece. The cup was my protection. The metaphor was your protection."

She blushed. "You're good at art interpretation," she said. "I hadn't even thought of that."

"I should have been an art major too," I said.

Then I took Ava by the shoulders and laid her on her back on the couch. Standing up, still with a little difficulty, I dropped my boxers to the floor. My balls were still throbbing, but my dick was standing straight out.

I looked down at Ava, lying naked and beautiful with her long legs spread wide apart. She gave me a nod. I leaned over and inserted my dick into her vagina. She made a little gasp.

"Gently," she said. "It's still pretty sore from the kicking you gave it."

"Um, you don't get to talk in that department," I said. "That's fair," she admitted.

Ava and I made gentle, slow, very careful love on the couch, until long after we had missed the party.

"I think this performance was better than the original," Ava told me, as we held each other afterwards.

"Well, except for the part where you kicked the shit out of my testicles," I said. "I think that part could use a little work."

"Good point," she said. "I'm willing to ask a lot for art, but not that much. How about you go back to wearing a cup next time?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure there's going to be a next time," I grumbled, rubbing my still-aching balls.

"The second part was great, though, don't you think?" she asked, rolling on top of me. Reaching down, she found that I was hard again, and slid my dick back inside her.

"It had aesthetic value," I admitted. "But what's the artistic message? Patriarchy gets revenge by enslaving women with pleasure? A man's most vulnerable spot is his balls, but a woman's most vulnerable spot is her heart?"

"I prefer to leave my art up for interpretation," Ava said, moving her hips gently and putting one finger on my lips. "It's all about what it means to the audience."

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*(The end)*

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