|
So I lay there, on the beach, holding my aching
balls, surronded by the laughing and giggling nude girls. But one of the girls seemed to have sympathy for me. She kneed down before me and looking at my hands clutching my nuts asked me: "Do they hurt?" I just gave a groan in reply. "Oh, por boy," she sighed, "once I accidently hit my brother's balls. He too seemed to be a in a lot of pain. He couldn't breathe, and later he told me he was about to puke. It's strange boys have balls between their legs and breathing and puking - they all have something with the troat. It's much upper in the body. Do they really so weak, those balls?" She made a gesture toward my groin. What a silly question I thought. Her sympathy made me more miserable than all the laghing of the rest girls. "It must be a terrible pain," she said again. "And once I saw a dog jumpd with its nose just right into a boy's crotch. The boy was on the ground very long. He hold his balls, cried and couldn't get up. I just couldn't believe he was in such pain." I looked at the split between her legs. Along with the desire to have a pussy at that moment I felt a great wish that that girl could have a pair of balls instead of her pussy and I could give them a good kick to let her know all about the pain I felt, all about the pain her brother had and that poor guy with a ballbusting dog. And she went me torturing with her silly questions: "I was told that even a flick gives a boy's balls pain? Is that true? If so we girls must be so lucky without those weak things." I looked between her legs again and thought - "real lucky", gave one more groan and turned my head aside. Just then I heard some women shouting someting loud at the edge of the beach. I looked at that direction and at once realized what was going on. "Hey, there's one more peeper! One more guy! We caught him. Got him! This time it's a bigger one." And I saw three women were dragging along Denis. One of them was holding him tight by his crotch and the other two drew him by his arms. Denis was limping. As I was told later, when discovered he'd tried to run away but stumbled over and dislocated his ankle. So unlucky he was and got right in the hands of naked girls. One more girl appeared from the bushes, carrying Denis' video camera. "Look what he's got!" "Oh, that's a video camera!" cried out one of the girls standing by me. "That pervert was making a film." "Smash that camera!" shouted more girls, "smash it." "First bring that guy over here," said Natasha, "and as for the camera no need to break it at all - we'll just get the tape out and destroy it." Soon Denis was in the center of the beach, close to me. "Bring him down on his knees," Natasha commanded. The girl holding Denis by his balls pulled his groin and he immediately obeyed and fell don onto his knees. "We can't hold him by his balls all the time," said Natasha, "just get some string, some belt rond his neck so that we can control him by tightening the string if he tries to run away." One of the girls fetched a piece of string and got it round Denis neck. After that the girl holding him by his crotch set his gentals free. "And now girls we'll have fun with this guy's balls as well," Natasha smiled. At this words Denis covered his groin with his hands. "Hands off the balls!" Natasha exclaimed and the girl behind the guy tighten the string enough to make Denis hands flew up to his neck trying to get the string looser. "Well, well," he said hoarsely, "I'll obey you." "We have to get him naked," said on of the girls. "Oh, no need indeed," Natasha smirked and bent over him. She unzipped his fly and by quick movement extracted his testicles and penis from his pants. All the girls burst with laughter as they saw his low-hanging balls dangling outside his pants. "Give them a kick, kick them!" They shouted. "No hurry, girls!" Natasha pacified them. "Let's have a kind of show first. You know how peeping nude women is called? It's called voyeurism. It's from from the french "to look". Men like looking at nude women. Voyeurism is the thing that goes with all men, but girls seldom peep naked men. Why? that's because men like to see our bodies, which are more perfect than theirs, they watch us and envy us. You maybeknow that many men like imagining themselves in a female body. Look at this boy," she pointed at me, still lying on the ground, "we really made him feel miserable with having a male body. I'm pretty certain that he's envying all us at the moment. We gave him a pain we just can't imagine what it feels - just because we don't have balls. But let's give him some compensation for his suffering. I guess his mental suffering is greater than that of his body. His mental pain at the idea of his not ability to feel the girl power in his body as we do. But we can give him a little chance of touching that powerful feeling. Girl, let him imagine he's a girl too. Just put someone's dress on him and let him feel a bit like a girl. And see if he'll wish to kick this guy in the balls." "That's wonderful! Let's have some show!" all the girls liked the idea and before long I was on my feet again. The pain in my balls a bit receded just to let me be able to stand upright. Soon a dress that fitted my height was found and the girls pulled it over me. "Oh a pretty nice girl! Not bad!"" All the girls around me shouted laughing. Natasha walked up to me and then made me step over opposite denis, though walking was not easy task for me because of the aching balls. I groaned and grasped my balls through the silk of the dress. "Do stop doing it!" Natasha smirked. "Feel yourself a girl. There no balls under this dress." All the girls giggled. I tore my hands off the groin. "That's better," Natasha slapped me on the shoulder. "So, do you wanna kick this guy in the balls and feel the girl power. I nodded my head, which at once made Denis to cover his groin again with his hands. "That won't do," Natasha repraochfully shook her head and the girl with the string at once made denic display his balls again. "Girls," Natasha said loud, "specially young little girls." look at this guy and boy. When you be grown-up you'll all possess rounded, pleasantly-looking boobs like me and other women here. But this young boy when older will have such a funny, low-hanging sack between his hands, the sack containing two extremely vulnerable balls within, the balls that all women ad girl can have a lot of fun with and feel proud not to have such things dangling between our legs. So this boy have a great reson to envy us. But today we let him to feel the girl power himself. Let him imagine he's a girl. So, girl," she chucled and patted me on my head. ""It's up to you, if you say you won't kick him in the balls we won't hurt him and set him free. But if you really think that girl have superior body and you envy us, then just show that guy the girl power."" I looked at Denis. The expression on his face was pathetic. With his eyes he was asking me to set him free. I was real angry with him. He let himself be caught. He didn't recorded my being abused by nude women. I so dreamed to have such a vidoe. I looked at his balls. Natasha was right - in the course of time my balls will be the same low-hanging, the same funny looking, the same as my Dad and many other men had between their legs. And I looked at the girls around, at their pussies. Oh, my balls got aching more. My envy just added pain to those balls. Though in a girl's dress I still had balls and not a pussy like all those girls. The balls that gave me so pain at the moment, the pain enough to make my walking the real hell. I had the balls like that guy standing on his knees before me, those balls hanging out of his pants. And all the naked girls were romping happilly about without balls between legs. Oh, my envy was so sharp like the pain in my balls. The girls around were cheering me: "Kick him, kick him. Smash his balls". I hated the very word - "balls", actually "eggs", we call testicles eggs in Russia. I looked agian at Denis scrotum. The girls' voices sounded in my head - "eggs, eggs, eggs". But I was in a dress and nobody could see my eggs. It were Denis balls that I had to abuse and let myself for a couple of seconds feel as though there was a pussy beneath this dress. All of a sudden I smartly kicked Denis in his low-hangers. The guy gave out an appalling cry, grasped his balls and the girl behind dropped the string letting him collapse facedownn. On the ground Denis shrieked in agonising tones: "Baaaaaaaaaaaalls, my baaaaaaaalls." There was a real explosion of laughter around. Denis was writhing on the ground at my feet when Natasha patted me: "You've done it!" I started laughing too. But one of the girls opposite me started shouting: "He's a fake girl, he's a fake girl! He's got balls too!" She siezed some rubber ball off the ground, some sort of baseball and hurtled it straight at my groin. The pain in my balls at once got multiplied and I fell down beside Denis. And there I lied, writhing in agony like him, he holding his bare balls and I ,with my hands under the girl dress, clutching the same aching organs. The organs that made us so different from all the girls above and making us feel so miserable. The only my wish was that my blls could disappear somehow, taking all the pain along with them and I could rise and laugh at Denis and his having those low-hanging balls between his legs, those balls he was so helplessly clutching in his hand. But I was doing the same thing with my balls beneath the dress and the girls were laughing at me too.
|