Monday, April 17, 2017

My life as a nutcracker - part 9: I improve steadily (written by David Walker)

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

Previous parts:
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
Part 8: My first time in the ring

Warning: Contains graphic homosexuality.

I don’t want to talk about the first fight, my debut into the world of Mayberry manhood.  I was a nervous wreck in the locker room.  And, let’s face it:  I missed the fuck out of Kenny.  Not an excuse, I guess, but a fuckin’ good reason.

I didn’t hear anything Jackson said.  When I got into the ring and the bell rang, I totally lost my concentration.  I couldn’t think, I couldn’t react, I couldn’t counter anything.  I deserved every punch and bruise I got.  And then I realized I was being laughed at, even booed.  Last week they were cheering my ballbusting talents; this week, I was bein’ razzed.  Plus, just before my debut, Vince won his match and his performance was great.  So let’s just say I lost…pretty fast, probably the fastest in the club’s history.  About the only thing Jackson could say afterward was, “Hey.  It was your first time.  You’ll never be that bad again.”  Vince didn’t say anything because he was in the showers the whole length of the match.

I told them I wanted to just get the fuck outta there as fast as we could.  We did.  Seth insisted that we leave by the main entrance.

“Tough break,” I heard Charlie say.  “I got a good match lined up for you next week.”

With who?  A dead kitten?

And then, even worse, my nearly-naked god came up to me and shook me by my shoulders.  “Tough break, young dude.  You get a little more confidence, you’re gonna be killer.”  He pulled me roughly up to his massive, hard, incredibly beautiful deep brown chest.  “You’ll see.  But you gotta come back.”  He grabbed me by my shoulders and pushed me out his arm’s length.  “You don’t come back, then you really did lose tonight, you know what I’m sayin’?  Next week I want to see you in that ring.”  I nodded and noticed the bulge in his jockstrap.


There’s a definite disadvantage to have “nut cracker” as your nickname.  It didn’t help that Charlie used it as my introduction.  Guys tried to grab my package when I walked from the locker room to the ring.  Mostly, they missed; those who landed one seemed to do it more to feel than to actually smack.  Whatever; it was pretty annoying.  I always entered the ring in my briefs.  How I left the ring depended on what went on during the fight.

I made up two rules:

1. I would always enter clothed with something…tighty whities, boxers, jock strap, something to keep the good ol’ boys from actually touching my balls.

2. I would not initiate a ballbust.  If/When my opponent thought it was time to “soften” me up and crush my balls or give them a whack, that’s when his nuts became fair game.


You know how figure skaters combine moves and sometimes do a variation for extra points?  I never missed a figure skating competition on TV, and I was in awe when somebody did like 3 or 4 jumps in a row and then did something personal that put a button on it.  I did a variation for extra pain.

I’d learned a lot of aerials, so like maybe after 8 or 10 minutes of slugging and hitting and ballbusting, I’d slam him on the mat.  I’d probably be naked by then and he certainly would be and both of us hard as fuck.  If he landed on his face, I turned him over and stood over him.  If he tried to land a punch to my sac, it wouldn’t really matter.  He’d be so tired or in enough pain that he couldn’t land anything damaging.  I grabbed his knees.  I pulled them up so I could get hold of his hips.  I continued to hoist him so that his head was toward the mat and his balls were just below my chin.  Sometimes the guy’s balls had shriveled.  Sometimes, though, the sac still had enough length that I could rest my chin on them.  I jumped up a bit and did the old stand-by pile driver.  The fall crunched his head against the mat and my chin crunched his balls.  My extra pain points.

By now a lot of the crowd knew what was happening.  I’d been in 8 fights and the last 4 ended with the pile driver and then after I landed the pile driver, I pushed him and he would invariably fall ass first.  It was pretty rare that he displayed any fight until I got to his legs, grabbed his feet, spread his legs, jumped up and landed my shin square on his balls.  If he’d pissed me off earlier, or if the guys demanded it, I’d do it again, this time with my forehead which let me spread his legs even farther as I drove my skull into his helpless nuts.  I’d let go my grip on his legs and invariably he rolled on one side, curled up with both hands covering his nards.  I gave him maybe 5 seconds, then grabbed hold of his feet and ripped his legs away from his body.  The way I pulled them, he’d be on his chest, usually screaming.  I straddled his body and pulled his legs up into another reliable old stand-by, the crab.

I leaned back and put as much pressure on his back as I could.  It was a submission hold, but before he could say anything or take one of his hands away from his nuts to tap out, I’d pull him up so that his cock and balls were within easy reach.  By this point, his nips were barely touching the mat.  Vince and I figured out a way to keep a good grip on his legs but move my arms so I could interlock my fingers.  Because my arms were still stiff to keep his legs up, that gave extra power when I balled him with that double fist.  If he submitted by then, I let him go.  If he hadn’t said anything, I’d do it again, let go of his legs, roll him onto his back, and fall across his chest as hard as I could for the pin.

I’d always considered it a lost opportunity when a wrestler on TV got his opponent locked in a crab but didn’t drive his fist home.  I mean, he just kicked the other guy in the nuts with that leg spreading goody, so it’s not like he should have any qualms about landing another on the guy’s “manhood.”  Thus, as Lutz, Salchow, and Axel contributed to the art of figure skating, so I considered that final ball smash my contribution to the art of cock fighting.

What was funny to me was that two guys came on the second, final smash and I had no desire to taste their cum or suck their dick.  Both times after I flipped him on his back and crushed his chest when I fell on it for the pin, I said, “You’re welcome.”  Just snarky enough.


The second fight actually felt pretty good.  We were evenly matched as far as bodies went, but he was a little older and had more experience in the ring.  That didn’t bother me.  Besides, Vince’s match would be after mine, so I knew damn-well I had to do better than last week.

We locked up, kinda felt out each other’s strength, and I fell to the mat on purpose, pulled him down with me, got my feet on his midsection and threw him on his back, a really nice move the guy at the gym taught me.  We went on for a pretty good time, trading punches, tossing each other to the mat, throwing each other into the corner.  He tried to pin me a couple times and when he got up after his third time, he circled around me as I was getting up on my hands and knees…you know, doggy style…and I felt him kick me in the balls.  I know he hoped I’d fall to the mat, but I didn’t, didn’t even flinch.  Neither he nor the crowd expected me to stay on my hands and knees, and in fairness, the kick was pretty solid.  I got up, turned around and looked at him.

“The fuck you tryin’ to do?” I asked him.  He had no answer.  He clenched a fist and tried to land a punch to my gut.  I caught his fist before it landed…pure luck, but it looked good.  He pulled and tugged to free his arm.  I hadn’t even done anything except catch his fist and not fall when gave me the swift kick to the nards.  I didn’t know what to do with his arm or fist, so I spun him around and threw him into a corner.  It was enough force that he stepped away from the corner.  I ran to him and he stepped to one side, so I, the picture of grace, ran smack into the turnbuckle.  I turned around and landed a solid upper cut to my nuts.  I grabbed his and squeezed like crazy and didn’t let go.

“Fuck!” he shouted.  “Let go.  Christ!  Let go!”

The crowd had become interested in the match.  I did let go, threw him back into the corner, and piled a knee into his nuts.

That’s what it felt like, I thought.  I could control him.

He started to fall forward, so I stopped him by draping him across my shoulders.  I walked to center ring and threw him hard on the ring floor.  He arched his back.  I grabbed his head and pulled him up.  I threw him into the ropes.  He bounced off, running toward me.  I landed a really solid fist into his guts.  He doubled over.  I grabbed his arm before he fell and grabbed some hair and yanked him up.  I turned my back to him, grabbed the other arm, wrapped them around me, and walked to a corner.  A couple steps away from it, I turned around and ran backwards full force into the turnbuckles.  I turned around and was about to give him a chop across his chest, but he brought his knee full force into my balls.

“Don’t you know you shouldn’t do that?” I asked him.  He still couldn’t believe that his punches had no effect.  In truth, another one probably would be painful, but for now I was still good.  I gave him a right cross to his jaw and then an upper cut to his chin.  That stunned him.  And then I remembered that flash drive Kenny gave me.  I threw his arms over the top ropes, lifted one leg over the middle rope, the other over the rope on his other side.  He was totally splayed.  First I gave him a mighty wallop on his head.  Then I backed up a couple steps, waited a little to see if he was coming around, and ran and landed my knee a vicious one into his balls. The moan and cry of pain got me and the crowd really going.

He fell forward, his hands not in front of him to brace his fall.  I picked him up under his armpits and dragged him to the center of the ring, his legs having dropped off the middle rope with a thump.  I pulled him center and saw Charlie start toward us.  I turned him over on his back and fell down across his chest.  I got the pin.  The guys in the audience cheered me as Charlie raised my hand.  I saw Vince in the locker room archway.  He gave me an enthusiastic wave.  Jackson met me as I got out of the ring.

“Now that’s more like it,” he said and wrapped his arm around my neck and squeezed me against him really hard.  “Just keep your mind on what’s going on.”

Seth was already in the locker room with Vince, but he’d watched the match and gave me a tight congratulations bear hug.  I hadn’t realized I had a boner.  So did Seth.  From out of nowhere, CJ appeared and asked if I needed any help with it.  I looked at him and laughed.  I mean, it was funny.  I’d just won my first fight and he wanted me to celebrate with him suckin’ me off.  I could do worse, but I wanted to watch Vince.

“No problem,” he said.  “Just a service we offer to the victorious warriors who look like they’d enjoy a good blow job.”  He started to walk away, then turned around.  “I could do it while you’re watchin’.”  That time I declined.


Landmark:  The third fight was the first time I got stripped in the ring, and I don’t know how intentional it was.  He was using my body to stand up and had his hands at my waist.  I landed a forearm smash on his skull and he took my briefs down with him to the floor.  I was already hard (the guy had a great body to rub up against), so that kind of sprang to life.  He was on the floor, so I reached down and gave his swim trunks a yank.  The elastic pulled his cock down and then it snapped back to place with a nice smack to his belly.  I discovered I liked fighting naked better.  I knew I’d have a bare-ass naked fight sometime, and this, since somebody just pull them down, was a good way to start.


Landmark:  A guy in his early 30s wanted a naked fight-for-sex match.  Charlie told me about it, assuring me I didn’t have to do it, that both guys had to agree.  Why not?  I mean, I’d seen him in the ring with other guys, and whether he fucked or got fucked, he was pretty fuckin’ hot.  He also got into some heavy-duty ballbusting.  In fact, he’d seen me at Jackson’s ballbusting contest.  When he saw me fight in the ring, he asked Charlie about my availability.

We were both hard as we got into the ring.  The bell sounded and we walked to center ring.  He drew me against his body and drove his knee between my legs.  It surprised me…happening that soon…but it didn’t faze me.  We had a fight from time to time, but mostly it was a contest to see who could bash the other’s balls hardest and most effectively.  He wasn’t as good as Jackson and he wasn’t as fast as Vince; he was one determined fucker who couldn’t do squat.

We were of equal height.  He had me on weight and experience.  I had him on speed and accuracy.  He surprised me by how often he obviously intended to kick my balls but kicked a thigh instead.  Or he’d try to land a ball punch and missed.  He kicked my leg one time and I fell in front of him.  His cock kind of waved in front of me while I guess he was wondering what to do next.  I made a fist with each hand, one under his dick and the other over it.  Smash.  He carried on like that hurt worse than any ball hit I’d landed.  So I did it again.

Was I bored?  I hurt, but it wasn’t like “get me the fuck outta here” pain.  I just wanted this to be over.  He had to be high on something and he wanted sex with a young guy, or at least that was what I figured.  I did his dick again, gave him the old one-two on his balls, he fell, I covered him, Charlie counted the pin, I stood, Charlie raised my hand, I headed for the showers.

“Hey!” Charlie shouted.  “Sex match, remember?  You won.”

I was just so fuckin’ over this.  I walked out of the ring.  CJ came up to me.

“You OK?” he asked.  “You didn’t finish your din-din.”

I looked at CJ.  “He’s all yours.”  I wanted nothing more to do with that guy in the ring.


Landmark:  Another match that started out with cloth and ended without.  It was actually kind of fun.  I think he got frustrated because he couldn’t pin me, so he pulled my briefs off, like that was supposed to humiliate me or something.  It didn’t work.  Later, he was on the mat after I threw him there.  I reached down and pulled the waist of his red trunks gingerly down his legs.  He actually did look humiliated, although I saw no reason that he should be.

We were both getting tired.  We both had enough strength that we could toss the other around…body slams, knee drops, suplexes, the fun but damaging stuff.  He’d been annoying me with nut whacks when he’d release me from a hold.  One time he threw me into the ropes and caught me with a clothesline.  I fell backwards, he grabbed and separated my legs, and fell on me with a really nice, hard knee to the nuts.  I was at the point where it hurt like fuck but I also kinda enjoyed it.  I mean, he coulda scored points if there were judges.  He pulled me up and threw me into a corner.  I stepped aside before he could decapitate me with a flying clothesline.  He flew through the ropes and smashed his arm into the metal pole.  I pulled him away with a grab around his waist.  My hard cock slid between his ass cheeks.

“Fuckin’ fag,” he growled.

All of a sudden I was in high school again, fighting for my fuckin’ life.  I didn’t hear the crowd as men; I heard them as high school kids.

I grabbed him by the hair and smashed his head into the top turnbuckle.  Three times.
I spun him around, stood in front of him, grabbed his head, and threw it back into the turnbuckle.  “I prefer ‘gay,” I said and threw his head against the turnbuckle again.  I knew he wasn’t Corey.  No resemblance at all.  Except inside his fuckin’ heart.

I grabbed his sore arm and threw it over the top rope.  I pulled down hard.  I held onto his arm and gave him hard gut punch.  He tried doubling over but couldn’t go far.  He let out a yell when I landed an elbow on his arm.  I still had a grip on it and got on the middle rope, jumped up and came down hard on that arm with an elbow.

He held his sore arm close against his body with his other arm.  I fell on my knees and landed one of the best upper cuts to the balls I think I’d ever done.  That downed him.

He landed face to face.  “Fuck head,” I muttered, grabbed the sore arm, stood up, and dragged him to center ring.  I figured he’d probably try to kick out of a pin.  I threw his arm on the mat, jumped up a little, and landed both knees dead on.  I grabbed his arm and dragged him to the ropes.

“You are one stupid motherfucker,” I told him as I sprang off the lower rope and landed feet first on his arm.  Before he could protect it with his other arm, I sank an elbow into it.  He yelled out in pain.

“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed at him.  I climbed to the middle rope, steadied myself, got a little spring from it, and landed a shin on his unprotected nuts.  I got up, grabbed his arm again, and dragged him to center ring.  I got down on the mat, put a hand on his shoulder and the other around his wrist, jumped up, and crushed his arm with both knees.

I threw my body across his.  I heard Charlie counting.  I could hear the guys again cheering, whistling, yellin’ and stompin’.  It was like I was coming out of something.  The guy was either out or waiting for me to leave.  I looked at him and wondered if I should apologize.  Charlie gave me an odd look, then raised my hand in victory.

High school?  Where the fuck did that come from?


Landmark:  Another naked cock fight for sex.  He was gorgeous.  Probably early 20s, about the same height and weight and about the same size in everything else that counts.  One of the features for his fighters was a little bucket of lube Charlie very thoughtful hung from each corner post.  You know, just in case the situation presented itself.  Standing across from each other, we gave each other kinda fuckin’ lustful stares.  We were both kinda jerkin’ off.  I was pretty sure he’d memorized where the buckets of fuck goo were…just like me.
Charlie introduced us, brought us out to the center, like the used to do on old TV matches so the ref could review the rules.

“You guys fight nice, now,” Charlie said with a kinda mischievous smile.  “I can tell you’re hot for each now.  Wait till you two start rollin’ around.  Give these rednecks their money’s worth.  Now, jerk each other’s cock and come out fightin’.”  Charlie’d never said that to me before.  The other guy’s name was Tom, and he seemed as surprised and amused by “the rules” as me.  He looked really good when he was in his corner, but now he was one of the most fuck-worthy young guys I’d ever seen.  So, yeah, I wanted to win.  We gave each other’s cocks a couple strokes.  Charlie was gone.  The bell rang and we were all over each other.

The only thing that would have made it better would have been if we’d been oiled down, but our body sweat worked pretty well.  Tom landed the first ball kick pretty early on, and he gave as good as he got, and I was holdin’ back anything.  To be honest, there were times when we were rolling around on the mat or tight up against each other cock to cock in a corner that I coulda cum.  But we knew this was a fight.  For sex.  And it felt like he wanted my body as much as I wanted his.

Next to ballbusting, gut punching was his specialty.  He landed one assault on my abs after he threw me in a corner.  But another time he grabbed my arm and sent me sailing against the ropes.  I figured he was gonna land a fist to my guts, so when I hit the ropes, I but my arms over the top one to stop me.  The momentum kept my arms going in a circle, down to the middle rope.  Fuck.  Before I could get out of it, my arms came up and got tied between the two ropes.  Tom had stood in center ring, waiting for my return.  He saw what happened and got this “no-fuckin’-way” grin.  He ran toward me, fist already in position.  God, it hurt, and I couldn’t get away.  He stood back a little, got his fists ready, and started punching my stomach hard.  My cock was bouncing around and it caught his eye.  He grabbed the head with one hand and smashed his fist into the rest of it.

Pain…pleasure…sex.  I was pretty sure he could see my pre-cum.  He did it again and stepped back.  Just that quick, I raised my leg and caught him full force with my foot.  It raised him off the mat and he landed hard.  Seeing Tom, that fuckin’ hairy chest, that cock, those legs…I managed to get one arm free of the ropes as he started to get up.  I struggled to get the other free, but it was tighter now.  He staggered toward me.  He wasn’t in position for another ball kick, but I kicked his side, and that sent him sprawling.  I got my other arm free, went over to him, and pulled him up.  I wanted to give him a knee drop on his balls.
I got him up.  To do it, he had to have his chest against mine as I pulled him up.

“You wanna fuck after?” he asked as I wrapped my arms around him.  “This one’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good.”  I hoped so.  I bent my knees and changed my arm position so I could lift him.  I got him up and pounded his balls on my knee as hard as I could.  He sat there, he looked like it worked, but he didn’t fall off.  I gave him a roundhouse to the jaw.  He was down.  I put my hand on my knee as I got up and felt this stream of kinda worm and definitely sticky stuff on my leg.  It worked better than ever before.

I sank a solid elbow smash across his chest.  I pulled him up by his hair and an arm.  I spun with him in toe so I could throw him into the corner.  He put on the brakes and spun me around and threw me against the turnbuckles.  It knocked the wind outta me.  He charged me, rammed his shoulder into my guts, stood up, and punched my jaw, which practically lifted me out of the ring.  I felt him tug at a leg.  My arms were already over the top ropes.  Oh, fuck…did he see that fuckin’ video, too?  I tried to kick him with my other leg, but I still could barely breathe.  One leg firmly over the middle rope and he grabbed the other.  I tried to get my arms down from the top rope.  It didn’t work.  He stood in front of me, held my shoulders against the rope, and blasted his knee into my balls three fuckin’ times.  I could hear myself howl.  The crowd howled back.  Fuck them.

“They’re getting’ off on us,” he said to me as he pulled himself hard against my body.  “You good for another couple minutes?”

He grabbed a leg and pulled it over the middle rope.  He pulled on the other when I managed to raise my hands, locked the fingers, and smashed him a hard one across his back.  I hadn’t counted on it, but he fell hard, his head against my knee.  I picked him up and threw his forehead into the top turnbuckle a couple times.  He pushed his ass out and that doubled me over.  He turned around and hauled me to the ropes.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” said as he pushed me over the middle rope, bent at the waist.  “You got me too fuckin’ horny to wait.”  Tom stood, walked to the corner, and put his hand in the fuckin’ bucket.  He slathered the fuck goo all over his magnificent cock.  He walked back to me and sank to his knees.  The guys were going crazy.  I looked up and out to one side.  Guys were unzipping their flies, other guys were bating their cocks or rubbing them, still in their pants, against the denim.

I felt a couple fingers up my ass.  I guess they had some lube on them.  I imagined what they saw.  This big, hairy-chested animal, probably smiling like fuck, reared up behind me, fingers up my ass, and me pretty much hangin’ over a rope in front of him.  It’s not like I’d mind him fuckin’ the daylights outta me, but I wanted to do the same to him, and that wasn’t gonna happen if I stayed like this.

He plunged that fuck dagger up my ass.  “Fuck,” I yelled.  “Oh, fuckin’ shit!”  He started to rock.  The guys were eatin’ it up.

It felt really good.  Just enough pain to remind me that I hadn’t been pinned yet.  The ring apron was in front of me.  I didn’t know if it was a good idea, but I pushed forward, thanks to his thrust, and grabbed hold of it.  Tom wrapped one arm around my waist and held onto the rope with the other.  This wasn’t gonna work.  I pushed back against his hips.  It got him at the right time; I felt him shift back.  I did it again, and this time felt a tug on my waist and a fist on my back.  I was back almost far enough to grab a rope and push against him.  I felt him pull out and pull me in by my waist.  I didn’t know where he was, but I kicked a leg up into the air and it nailed him.  I heard a thud behind me and I turned around.

Tom was curled up in a ball.  I didn’t think I’d kicked him that hard.  I pulled myself up to my knees and looked at him.  I pulled myself fully up by the top rope.  I’d done something.  It didn’t look fake.  Only one way to find out:  He was bent over so his head was on the mat, his legs stuck out.  I pulled the legs so he’d probably roll over on his back.  He did.  Major yell when I yanked his legs.  I grabbed his ankles and pulled up both legs.  The guys were putting 2 and 2 together and were shouting and stomping like mad.

He looked like he was coming back to earth.  I had his legs up and I parted them really hard.  I knew that created more pain inside.  Tom looked so fuckin’ handsome as he took his hands up to his head, like that would do anything.  I raised my leg and hit his nuts solid with my foot.  His convulsion ripped his ankles out of my hands.  Again, he was on his side.  I grabbed his legs again and pulled them away from what was left of his comfort zone.  This time I flipped him onto his chest.  Now what?  The idea of the crab came to me.  I grabbed his legs, his shins, and pulled them up.  Tom was in pain.  Good.  I pulled up harder.  And then I got inspired.  I let go one leg, pulled my arm in the air, and crushed a fist right into his balls.  His free leg kicked around wildly.  I kept a grip on the other leg, though, and walked around so He had to roll on his back.   I let go and landed a knee on his chest.  I didn’t know how far gone he was, so I drove a fist into his gut.  I flung my chest across his and Charlie counted three in no time.

The crowd went wild.  As I got up, I looked out at them.  They were jerkin’ off, rubbing their hands over their jeans, even bein’ sucked off.  And now it was my turn.

“Hey, Tom,” I said to him.  “Time for more.”  He didn’t budge.  I really wanted to blow him, but it felt like the crowd expected a good fuck.  “Hey.  Let’s go.  Ain’t got all night.”  He seemed to be a little better at knowing what was going on.  “Up.  Over to the corner.”

He smiled.  “Yeah.  Help me up.”  He offered me an arm and dragged him, caveman style, to a corner.  I grabbed him and propped him up against the turnbuckles.  I ducked under the rope and dipped my hand into that excellent lube.  I rubbed it all over my cock, jerked off, right in front of him.

“Fuck me hard with that thing,” he told me as I climbed back into the ring.  I stuck two fingers up his ass to lube his young ass.  “Fuck me.”

I worked my cock in a little bit and a little bit more and then shoved in the rest.  I smacked his ass and started to fuck.  Oh, my god, this was good.  I was fuckin’ this dude who was really cool, really knew how to make you hurt, and I’m fuckin’ him here in a fuckin’ fight ring with all kinds of men yellin’ and screamin’ and cheerin’ me on.  And Tom was moaning like he was gettin’ off.  I reached under and grabbed his balls.  He moaned more.

This was insane.  And to top it off, CJ came up to the ring and said, “I want this one back there,” pointing to the locker room.

“Fuck off, CJ,” Tom said.  Tom?  “We’re fuckin’ all night long.”

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