The games we're playin' (written by Jason)

This wonderful little story was written by our loyal reader Jason (yes, the same one who came up with the awesome idea for The B Factor!). It's his debut as a writer, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

 
Based on a true story.

I'm Jason. Twenty-one years old. I live in Denmark with my parents and my 20-year-old brother. I have always loved stories of family ballbusting between fathers and their adult sons. But I grew up in a conservative environment where even friendly school sack taps weren't typical in my life, not to mention an actual ballbusting experience.

But on a gloomy October afternoon, everything changed.

I've been noticing my dad for a while. In that kinky, 'I want to experience ballbusting with you' way. I wanted him to participate in my ballbusting fantasy. Dad is 45, tall, athletic. He has blonde hair and blue eyes. He works in a bank and worships my mother. He is also a good father who likes to spend time with his sons.

I was twenty when I first thought about my father as one of the potential subjects for experiencing my fetish. I was wondering how I could get him involved. Should I lie to him about making a bet with a friend, and tell him that I have lost it, so he has to kick me in the nuts as a punishment? I wanted to do that for a long time, but I never dared. I was afraid of the consequences. I was afraid he would say I was not normal.

Then, on that ominous October afternoon, mom and my brother went to the cinema and Dad and I stayed home alone. Dad had drank a couple of beers and watched a football game in the living room. And I started cooking. Nowadays I have been spending a lot of time in the kitchen. That day I wanted to surprise my mother and my brother with my famous pasta soup.

So I worked on the meal. I cut the ingredients. I put the water on the boil. Then, as I reached for a plate, I saw a large wooden spoon at the bottom of the cupboard. I knew what I wanted to do with that wooden spoon. I looked at the clock. My mother and younger brother will be away for another 25 minutes. This is the perfect opportunity, this is my moment.

I grabbed the wooden spoon and sat down next to Dad on the couch.

"What are you doing with that shit?” he asked with a strange expression on his face.

"I’m thinking.” I replied.

“Thinking about what?”

“This...” and I hit him in the nuts with the wooden spoon as hard as I could.

Dad screamed. My heart was beating in my throat.

“You asshole. Why on earth did you do that?” - he asked as he pushed me over on the couch.

“It’s a prank.” I said. “I didn’t mean to do that hard.”

“Oh, yes”? and as he said this, he tore the wooden spoon out of my hand and began to beat my testicles with full force.

I couldn’t breathe. I was in so much pain. I just sat there and let him smash my balls. I thought to myself that I had waited for this all my life, but it still hurt terribly as he made every effort to break my nuts.

When he realized that I was just sitting there and tolerating the hits, he stopped and he was ashamed of his action.

“I’m sorry, son. I went too far.”

“I don’t think my balls survived that.” I said.

A silent tear dropped from my eyes.

“Let me see your nuts!” - he insisted.

With my father's support I stood up and he helped me undress. After pulling down my underwear, he saw my tortured eggs and the bruises he had caused on them with the wooden spoon. He grabbed my sack carefully and examined the testicles.

“You’ll live” - he said.

Right in that moment, my brother appeared in the doorway. Dad's hands were still on my testicles. My brother looked at us really confused. All three of us were thinking the same thing: this is one hell of a weird situation.

The next few days passed uneventfully. Strange glances at the dining table, Dad's sorry look when he saw me walking strangely ... it was all surreal.

We didn't say anything to Mom, but my brother made silly jokes about the situation for weeks. He found it very funny that my testicles turned blue and even asked me to show them once. I did, of course. I was excited to see that my 20-year-old brother was so interested in the consequences of my testicular trauma.

Danny was the geek in the family. But besides that, he was a particularly handsome young guy. He didn't have many friends, he would rather read or work on the computer on his science projects. He was the type of guy who didn't know how good he looked.

In early November, Mom left for a conference lasting several weeks, so the three of us stayed home with Dad and my brother. Of course, Danny kept talking about what had happened and brought it up to Dad, which led to unpleasant situations. I knew it was time to give my brother a lesson.

One morning after Danny went to work, I said to my dad:

“I have an idea.”

“What is that?” asked Dad, who was really happy to be able to talk to me again.

“What if we prank Danny? - He is a bit too much lately...”

“What were you thinking? Make him smell his own stinky feet?” Dad asked naively.

“I think I have a better idea. I think we should crack his nuts...”

Dad's eyes darkened.

“No way. Stop this bullshit!” he yelled.

“But we don't have to break his testicles for real...a few kicks will do the trick!”

“No!” he said firmly.

“If you don't help, I'll tell Mother everything...”

“I don’t recognize you anymore...” he replied.

We were waiting for Danny at the door that night. When Danny arrived, Dad caught him and I pulled off his pants. Danny’s beautiful, innocent low-hangers just hang there like there was no tomorrow.

Dad and I both got a testicle and started squeezing it. Danny screamed. His breath was sweet and desirable. We squeezed the balls harder and harder, and Dad even twisted his right one a bit. Compared to how annoyed he was before, he seemed to enjoy it. But not just him. Danny's cock hardened too. I couldn’t believe it. Could it be that the men in my family have always felt the same fetish excitement as I did? Or did I just convince them that it was good fun?

We stopped torturing his poor nuts a few minutes later. Danny fell to the floor and grabbed his belly. Dad and I looked at each other. I could see in his eyes that he couldn't decide why he liked it all that much. But I didn't care why. I enjoyed the moment. After all, the balls are there to punish the men. And this family finally recognized this.