The Morning After

I am, of course, referring to this morning, after last night’s ball blasting.  NW and I just happened to wake up about fifteen minutes earlier than I normally do.  The opportunity was not lost.

As I was wanting to feel my balls ache, all day, we took the chance to revisit the previous night’s CBT.  Yeah, yeah…NW had orgasms.  I had my balls squeezed and hit.  In fact, at one point, I had to call her off because she was hitting them, over and over, with a good bit of force, and carried on longer than I could endure it.  That hasn’t happened in a while.  Afterwards, I was, of course, edged, several times.

At the end of the play, NW took me in her mouth, as is our ritual, and I pressed my prostate, from the outside, and ran my fingers up my urethra, to push as much pre-cum as possible into her waiting mouth.  Apparently, it was a rather copious amount, as she was audibly surprised by it.  The thought of expressing all of my sweet, silky frustration into her mouth always makes me happy.  Almost like a twisted way to share the denial she is imposing on me, and the wonderful frustration that comes from it.

In any case, it was off to the shower and getting ready for work.  Prior to dressing, though, I was concerned that the ache might not last the day.  So, I cornered NW, grabbed my own balls, and offered them up.  After a bit of convincing, she punched them.  Not as hard as she could, by far, but given their beaten up condition, it was more than enough.  She took me in her mouth and began working me.  She slapped my balls with moderate force while doing so.  She stopped slapping and I grabbed her head and began fucking her mouth in earnest.  With my urging, she began slapping my balls again.  She edged me.  Then again.  As a final act, I grabbed and offered up my balls one last time.  She punched them again, but with less force than before.  That was okay.  They are pretty battered.

Now, sitting at work, I can confirm that we hit the goal.  When I am standing, the ache is almost imperceptible.  When I am sitting, though, and my pants press on my balls, the ache is not only evident, but mildly attention grabbing.  It is a very nice feeling…an ever available reminder of our play and my denial.

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