Kicking swollen balls

Emma couldn't remember what had started this, it had been swallowed up by everything that followed. An all-day event at their college, spread out over campus, and Emma had found herself briefly alone with John.

There had been some comment, some joke of hers which John thought was an invitation, or maybe a challenge. He'd stepped forward quickly, reaching for her, determined to plant a kiss on her mouth.

Before she had the time to process her feeling of offense, Emma had already done it: her hands pulled on John's shoulders and her knee jerked upward into his groin as he walked right into the blow.

Just a little bump, a gasp, and John sank to the floor groaning. "No, John. I don't know what you were thinking, but no." Emma told him firmly. He didn't seem to be able to respond, and after a moment's fascination, Emma left. She told her friend Amy about the encounter immediately, and they laughed together, but funny wasn't the word Emma would use to describe the event.

She didn't know what she had expected this to feel like, but the sensation of his ballsack compressing between her knee and his pelvis had taken her by surprise, and she replayed the feeling in her mind. The rush she felt when John fell at her feet didn't leave her for the rest of the day, and she replayed the moment again and again. A part of her wondered if John would be all right.

Amy came to find her later in the day, bounding toward her with a grin like she tended to when something interesting had happened. "John is pissed off" Amy said with a smile "he says his balls are swollen - they're like twice as big as usual. And they hurt like hell to touch."

"What, really?"

"I'm not sure, when I asked to take a look he told me to fuck off." At that, Amy's contagious laughter set Emma off. But for all her laughing this only fed the day's obsession for her. She kept thinking about John and his poor balls, and she worried about the way she was thinking about them. Was she a bad person for the way she was enjoying this? She couldn't face the question, and besides a much more pressing one was asserting itself in the front of her mind.

If it hurts just to touch them, how much will it hurt if they're kicked?

She wandered around, not really engaging with the world around her. She was aimless, her mind occupied with John's pain, and she didn't really see anything that happened that day, until she again saw John. His walk was a little awkward, but he seemed to be in decent spirits. He was facing away from her. He bent forward to pick something up, and no one was around except for two of John's friends.

He said something, Emma didn't remember exactly what: it didn't matter. It was something disparaging about her, but ultimately just an excuse. Emma didn't fully process it before impulse took over.

"She's behind you yo- oh shiit!"

Emma stepped quickly and kicked hard - this one chance, she would make it count. She felt his ballsack again - definitely bigger than before - compress against the open top of her sandal. She caught his balls from behind and slammed them into him with a loud "whump". As John collapsed Emma's hand flew reflexively to her mouth and she watched, shocked. She looked from John to his friends, and then fled.

She heard from Amy again in the evening. John was in the hospital, he had to have both his balls surgically repaired from the damage Emma did. Guilt spiraled around her gut, pulling tight, but the rush still occupied her head. Feeling desperately horny Emma masturbates a long time, thinking of John and coming again and again with the thought of what she did to him, until finally her mind clears. She lies awake a long time before falling asleep.

She drags herself out of bed the next day, her head clear, her conscience sick.

Emma brought him a huge bouquet, and her sincere apologies. She couldn't admit to him why she did what she did. She was angry, she didn't realise how bad it could get. Both were true, but only the smallest part of the truth. He was terrified to see her, at first, but before long it was clear that he still wanted her.

She admitted to herself, now to John as well, that she wanted him too, just not at that particular time in that way. He was still scared, still infatuated with her. God! it's so cute! she thought. She would have to be careful with him going forward.

Going forward, she was careful with him indeed.