Monday, April 10, 2017

My life as a nutcracker - part 8: My first time in the ring (written by David Walker)

This is the eighth part of a wonderful, epic story written by our reader David Walker. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Previous parts:
Cast of characters
Part 1: I learn how to fight
Part 2: My official introduction to ball busting
Part 3: Vince? OMG!
Part 4: The games people play
Part 5: Practicing the moves, sort of

Part 7: My first time at the club

“You ready, champ?”  It was Jackson.  There was another match before his, but he wanted to go to the locker room and get psyched.  Guys had got up to stretch, go to the bar, to the bathroom.  A lot of guys were walking around, some of them even rubbing a hand against another guy’s cock.  Outside the other guy’s jeans, of course.  Great, I thought.  They liked Vince.

And then guess whose voice I heard.

“Hey, faggot.”  He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.  “I just lost a lot of money because of your fag friend.”  I was going to tell him he shouldn’t bet on humans when he sucker punched in my stomach and I landed on the floor.  He managed to kick me in the stomach before Seth pulled him off me.

“Let me go, faggot.  Your fuckin’ fairy brother needs to learn a good lesson.”  Several other men had grabbed Corey by then.  Charlie came up to Corey and grabbed him hard by the scruff of his neck.

“I’ve had enough of you, asshole,” Charlie said, glaring at Corey and not releasing his grip.  Corey’s face was red and looked like a couple veins were about to explode.  “Now get outta here and don’t come back!”  Corey’s neck still in his grip, Charlie charged toward the door and slammed Corey’s head into the door frame.

“Oh, sorry.  I hope that didn’t hurt,” Charlie said as he opened the door and sent Corey sprawling to the ground.  Many cheers.  A couple guys asked me if I was OK.  Actually, I was.

“That fuckin’ sonuvabitch better not show his pissy little face around here again,” Charlie growled as he gave me a frisky check.  “He didn’t hurt you none?”  I shook my head.  Then Charlie’s face changed.  It was just like Robert Preston’s face changed when he thought Julie Andrews could be a drag queen.  “You’re the nut cracker, huh?”  I nodded.  “Well, maybe he can come back…just once.”  That sounded a little ominous, but I knew what he was thinking.  So did Seth.

“You and Vince against him and Scott,” Seth suggested.  I reminded him that I hadn’t even fought there once yet.  “You will.”


Another match was about to start.  I walked toward the locker room to join Jackson.  As I got there, CJ was walking out, the most wonderful shit-eatin’ grin on his face.

“Gotta tell you, fella,” he said, smiling, massaging his ass.  “A huge fuckin’ cock like that can inject you with about a month’s supply of hot and sleazy cum.  I ain’t gonna be able to walk right for a week.”  He smacked an ass cheek.  “Oh, fuck yeah.”

I watched as he kinda floated into the crowd.


When I got into the locker room, all these bare-ass naked men were standing around drinkin’ beer, smokin’ god knows what, havin’ a good time, and some of them lookin’ smokin’ fuckin’ hot.  The gladiators had come to fight and to party.  I looked around for Vince and saw Scott instead.  He was not among the happy guys.  I nodded.

“Good fight.”

“Yeah, fuck you, too, fag.  He’s in the showers, probably beatin’ off.”

I couldn’t talk to Vince there, so I nodded to Scott and walked to the big entrance into the main area.  I met the guy who was gonna kick Jackson’s balls.  He was a little older than me and heavier.  I don’t like to say it, but he was fatter than me.  I just, you know, fat.  Like he didn’t have to look like that, he just did.  He wore a vest over an official wife beater.  I looked down at his feet.  Cowboy boots with a blunt toe.  He raised a can of beer to his mouth and chugged.

“You do this a lot?” he asked.  Before I could answer, he started in.  “Craziest shit I ever heard of.  Stand in front of a lot of people and kick some loser-assed bastard in his balls.  Stupid-ass rednecks.”

This was not going down well with me, but I figured I should at least try to look like I didn’t want to kick him in his balls.  There was some pretty excited cheering out at the ring.  Jackson walked up to us and cupped a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, champ.  How’re you doin’?”  I decided not to tell him about Corey.  He didn’t have to know that now.  What he needed to do was relax or concentrate or whatever it was he did before some action.

“This is Dawson,” Jackson said.  Dawson was naked, good body, no hair…everything was shaved.  He stuck out his hand.

“Hey,” he said, maybe just a little nervously.

“First time he’s done this,” Jackson said with no judgment in his voice, just giving me information.  His designated kicker popped another can and sucked on it.

“Yeah, about a year,” Dawson said.  “I was in some bar over in Chester, a real dive, and I got dead-on-my-ass drunk.”  He and his own private guzzler laughed.  “These two guys came over to me and told me they’d like to party with me.  Well, hell, I’m always up for a party and about 10 minutes later I was sittin’, getting’ tied up, hands behind me, and they were doin’ all kinds of shit to me.  They pissed on me, smacked me around, slugged me, hung from the ceiling, it was all pretty weird.”  His lieutenant rolled his eyes.  “They made me stand up and spread my legs.  I thought I was gonna get a blowjob for their work and instead this one guy punched me in the nuts and I thought I’d die.  But then I got to like it, and we’ve been partyin’ ever since.”

His attendant gave him something which Dawson stuck into his nose, snorted, and gave it back.

“This guy’s a neighbor I like to party with.  He was curious to see what this was gonna be like, too.”

“Jackson,” Charlie shouted from the entrance.  “You guys are up.”

Jackson took his hand off my shoulder.

“Go get ’em, tiger,” I said to him.

“I think this is gonna be easier than we thought.”  He gave me a wink.  “See you two in the ring.”  I noticed that the somewhat plump young man finished off the can of beer and tried to crush it.  Didn’t work.  He dropped it in a trash can.

“You may be right,” I told Jackson.

“Right.  Let’s go out there and bust some balls.”


It was the first time I’d ever been at the club.  It became even more cool as the evening moved along.  I was there to kick somebody’s nuts, kick him into submission.  That felt good.  I was Jackson’s second, but I also felt excitement as we walked up to the ring.  I also felt a couple hands grab my crotch.  Charlie set up what was going to happen as we got to the apron.  He introduced Dawson and Buck first, which I thought was kind of tacky because you usually introduce the champion first.  And Buck?  Are you fuckin’ kidding me?

We walked to a corner.  There was a stool for Jackson.  He already was barefoot, so he dropped his cutoffs and got a big hoot and holler from the men.  His cock was already about ¾ at attention.  I looked at him, at it, and I smiled.  Charlie called all four of us to the center of the ring.  He reminded us that when Charlie or Jackson put a hand up or told us to stop, we were to stop.  Charlie flipped a coin; Buck would start on Jackson first.  I turned so I could watch.  Jackson winked at me.

Buck positioned himself in front of Jackson.  I could tell he was impressed with Jackson’s cock and balls.  I mean, whether you were gay or straight, you had to give credit where it was due.  Buck and I were allowed one slow flex time to aim.  On Charlie’s command, Buck started kicking.  Not all that strong, I thought, and though he was landing his foot between Jackson’s legs, Jackson’s face looked like not much was happening.  He took 15 and told Buck to stop.  The crowd had counted along with each kick and gave out some suggestions.  It sounded like they were ready to stop at 10, and there was practically an ovation when Jackson stopped at 15.  He sat back on his heels and looked at me.  Something in his eyes told me this Buck person had no idea what he was doing and that he, Jackson, was OK.

“Dawson,” Charlie said.  “Are you ready?”  Charlie looked at me and I nodded.  I took the one slow swing with my foot and I thought I saw him flinch.  I hadn’t even touched him.  I looked down at this kind of milky white hairless guy.  Maybe I was supposed to cut him some slack, kick like Buck, but there was no way I wasn’t Jackson’s bitch in all this.  I swung my leg back and then let go.  I wished I coulda been barefoot, I’d have loved to have felt those shriveled up things meeting my foot.  He started yelling at 5.  I looked at Charlie who shook his head with a “fuck no” on his face.  Dawson put his hand up at 8.  He almost fell over when I stopped.  He steadied himself with a hand on the mat, which was legal, and he sat back on his heels.  I turned to Jackson as Charlie came over to check on Dawson.  Jackson, naturally, was bating.  He glanced up in Buck’s direction.  I didn’t want to take my eyes off that dick, but I looked over.  Buck was obviously drunk and was about ready to fall over.  I looked back at Jackson.  He gave me this look like, “Amateurs!”  I could still hear some moans from Dawson.

15 nut taps to 8 kicks to the balls.  The crowd was lovin’ it.  Jackson nodded to Charlie before Charlie even had a chance to ask if Jackson was ready.  He gave the command to start and the crowd started whistling and stomping and cheering.  It was almost deafening.  Buck took aim and started in.  Buck gave Jackson’s balls little time to drop down from the previous kick.  I could tell Jackson was starting to feel some pain and he raised his hand after 10.  But Buck didn’t stop.  I was ready to tackle him, but Charlie got to him first, pushed him on his ass, and screamed, “He says stop, YOU STOP!”  He stood totally over Buck.  “You got that, mister?”  I think Charlie knew he didn’t have to ask Jackson how he was doing.  He did give Jackson this “do you believe that fuckin’ kid?” look as he stopped.  Charlie looked at me and I nodded that I was ready.

The guys started in again.  I’d say the noise was so loud I couldn’t think, but how much do you have to think to kick somebody’s balls?  Charlie asked Dawson if he was ready.  He was still desperately clutching his nut sac.  He took a deep breath and nodded.  Charlie looked at me again and gave the command to start.  I decided to go slower this time, which made the kicks even harder, I think.  Or maybe I was just more determined to make them land.  Anyway, we got to six and Dawson screamed at me to stop.

The guys were going crazy.  Dawson was totally rolled up in a ball but he wasn’t on the mat.  The match would continue.  Was Jackson ready?  Well, fuck, of course he was ready.  Then we noticed that Buck was still on the mat.  Charlie walked over to him.  Jackson started beating off again.  What an amazing, wonderful, totally hot bear he was, watching Charlie with Buck and just idly stroking heaven.

It seems that Buck may have chugged one too many beers and was not steady on his feet.  Or maybe it was the exertion of kicking Jackson more than he ever had to kick Dawson.  Anyway, Charlie helped him up and he woozily staggered toward Jackson, who was still massaging his luscious meat.

Charlie looked at Jackson and Jackson nodded.  He looked at Buck and there was no response.  The guys were losing it when Buck drew his leg back and he stumbled, kind of righted himself, stumbled toward Jackson, and put his hands on Jackson’s shoulders.  Charlie was on him in no time flat.

“You don’t touch him with anything but your boot,” Charlie loudly commanded as he pried Bucks hands off Jackson’s shoulders.  And with that, Buck was on the floor, passed out and completely useless.

Charlie obviously had never encountered this before and wasn’t sure what to do.  Dawson’s kicker was on the mat, but Dawson wasn’t.  Jackson was on his knees beating off.

“He knows what he’s doing,” Jackson said to Charlie, pointing at me with his dick.  “Let him do it.”  The guys were ecstatic.  I noticed Seth and Vince and CJ, all three shouting, jumping up and down, whooping it up.  “He’s never gone easy on me in his life.  Believe me.”  The guys roared with laughter.

Charlie believed him.  What better recommendation could you get, really?  Charlie asked me if I could do it, you know, kick the shit out of both of them?  I was a little nervous about nailing Jackson, but he volunteered me, so what the fuck?  I shrugged my shoulders.  “Sure.”

Probably nobody noticed if Dawson or Buck even existed.  The whole thing changed.  It was like the match was over and Jackson and I were going to have sex right there in center ring.  And in a way I guess we were.

“You ready?” Charlie asked me.  I nodded.  “Jackson?”

Jackson looked at me and said, “You miss one kick and I’ll fuck you into next week.”  Come to think of it, that might not be so awful.  “OK,” he said to Charlie.

A man could touch himself during a match, except to interfere with a kick, and Jackson’s cock strokes switched to high gear after maybe the second kick.  With every kick, the guys yelled, “Cum!  Cum!  Cum!”  I was about ready to pull my fly down and kick and cum at the same time.  Jackson looked up at me like “Yeah, man.  Oh, fuck, you got me.  Kick those babies.”  But then he said, “No.  Fuck.  Stop.”  I had no idea how often I’d landed my best on his low-hanging basket, but the fact was, sex or no sex, cum or not, there was another opponent I had to concentrate on.

Charlie walked over to me.  “You got some more nut shots in you?”  I nodded and walked to Dawson.  I stood in front of him as Charlie asked if he was going on.

“Yeah.  I’m ready.”  He couldn’t speak without pain in his voice.

Charlie gave the command.  I pulled my foot back and landed a good one.  Charlie screamed, a really kind of brutal, pathetic scream, and fell over.  It looked like he was going to puke his guts out.

Charlie was about to announce the score.

“How about a bonus round?” Jackson asked Charlie, still bating and ready for more.  Everybody laughed and cheered.  My three friends were probably yelling the loudest.  I also saw Scott, nothing but hate on his face.  Fuck him.  I had much better things to think about.  I walked to face Jackson.  “You ready for this?” he asked me.

“I have no idea, but I sure as fuck wanna find out.”  And with that I reared back and busted his balls, only I paused just a little between kicks.

“No, hit me, baby.  Fuckin’ pound those fuckers like there’s no tomorrow.”  He was stroking hard and the crowd was yelling “Cum!  Cum!  Cum!” even louder.  Before much longer, I landed a merciless shot and I heard that moan of pleasure and felt a hot, creamy sticky liquid pour on my leg.  The crowd was in ecstasy.  I didn’t know what the fuck just happened and I looked around.  Guys had pulled their cocks out and were beating off like crazy.  Other guys were on their knees giving blow jobs right and left.  I felt Jackson pull me right up against his face.

“Take ’em down, dude.  Strip.  Fast.  Give me your cock.  I gotta suck it.  Gotta suck it.  Now.  Give it to me.  Shove it down my throat.”

My cock snapped to attention as soon as I unzipped my fly and the pants fell to the mat.  The chant changed to that “USA!” thing like, “Suck that dick!  Suck that dick!”  Jackson’s kinda wire-ish and fuckin’ fuzzy beard was all over my junk, and then he deep throated me and there was nothing I could do to stop from going crazy in his warm, wet, mothersuckin’  mouth.

“Oh, fuckin’ Jesus,” I moaned.  People had changed to “Suck!” with Jackson’s every stroke.  “Suck! Suck! Suck!”  It was pretty obvious when I came.  I got weak in my knees and he grabbed my hips.  He wasn’t finished and I sure as fuck wasn’t about to stop him.  He kind of eased up, so holding onto him, I sank to the mat and we kissed and sucked tongues and held each other forever.  Jesus.  Sweet, bloody Jesus.  Have you ever been in a room where about 70 guys shot their wads all at the same time, even the guys on their knees?  It’s sure as hell something you don’t forget real soon.  And I thought all the jizz flying through the air was like testosterone and all the guys felt it, knew it, banged for it, sucked for it.

He held me so hard I thought he’d snap my spine, but that incredibly deep, passionate kiss made it just fine.  I could taste my cum in his mouth and his monster cock was still hard and poking me.  I opened my eyes as he kissed my chest, biting and licking a nip.  I looked around and saw that an arm was around Seth’s and Vince’s butts.  Probably CJ sucking the hell outta them.  No Scott, as if I cared.  Not two minutes ago I was pounding this man’s wonderfully large balls with my boots.  I cupped his chin and pulled his face up.  I kissed him and then opened my eyes again.  He stared at me with the happiest eyes I’d ever seen.

“You’re some crazy fuck, you know that?” he laughed.  “You are totally out of your fuckin’ mind.”

 “And you know you wouldn’t have it any other fuckin’ way.”  We both laughed and then kissed again.  I stood up.  He tried to suck my cock, and I let him for a bit.  It was pretty apparent, what with all his body had been through, Jackson would need help standing up.  A disheveled Seth and Vince were in the ring, ready to help with this amazingly beautiful and totally spent man.

It looked like an orgy had started in the ring over the bodies of Buck and Dawson.  I felt like it was up to me to make sure Jackson got out safe and sound.  It was quite a sight, though.  These guys I knew of, saw at least weekly, were getting naked and goin’ insane in a fuckin’ fight ring.  I couldn’t help thinking that was a sign for something.  Fuck if I knew what, though.  Seth and Vince carried the naked Jackson out by the shoulders to the truck.  As we left the ring, a completely naked, totally stoned CJ looked up from the guy sucking his cock and asked, “Need any help?”

“Nope.  It’s under control.  Thanks.”  CJ waved and went back to his happy face.

As we left the club, I saw god again.  Naked, fucking some white guy half his size like crazy.  He saw us and whistled.  “That was fuckin’ great, young dude.  You rent those feet out?”  I laughed.  “Talk to Charlie,” his voice a little shaky because he was still fucking like a crazy person.  “You’d do real good.”  His fuckee was getting a little irritated, so god returned his attention to the matter at hand, fucking the shit outta some pissant white guy who wouldn’t say a word to him if he saw that stunning god tomorrow.


For the life of me I couldn’t think how I’d tell Kenny about what happened.  To be fair, he told me once when he called that thanks to me he’s not the first to fall during roshambo in the dorm.  I told him I was proud of him and glad to help.  We could maybe do an honors study over Thanksgiving.  But getting kicked in the balls in your underwear in a room in the dorm isn’t quite the same as kicking a stranger in the nads in the hopes you knock him out so Jackson would win.  Or like watching Corey get slammed into the wall while being escorted out of the building.  Or watching Vince cream another of the school jocks.  Or having explosive sex in the center of the ring with everyone watching and cheering you on.  I still couldn’t decide if it was the greatest night of my life or if it was the most embarrassing, like I was supposed to be a lot more ashamed than I was.  It was just fucking crazy.

I knew I was going to see some of those same men in town or out on their farms.  That’s just life in
Mayberry.  We’d nod “hey” or some guy would give me a knowing smile.  The most acknowledgement was “good seein’ you at the fights the other night.”  And again I wouldn’t know whether to be grateful because nobody got into a conversation about what it’s like to have obviously incredible sex with Jackson in the center of the hall or wonder what was going on in their minds.

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