The Sock Party

The Sock Party, by lazarjones

It was not the first time Peter had masturbated to his sister. While sorting the laundry, he came across her newest pair of angora socks, delicate pink with a mint colored cross-weave running around the top.

They smelled like her—the faintest tang of earthy sweat—and made him instantly hard.

He wrapped a bra around his balls and slid one of the dainty socks over his engorged shaft, like a fuzzy condom. The wool felt so good on his flesh, heating it up like an oven, while the plush cups remained cool and soothing. Melanie was a voluptuous girl, always had been, and he was a big boy, at least in the downstairs department. He imagined the two of them rutting in unison, those juicy tits of hers wrapped around his cock, urging him toward orgasm. They were the only tits he knew of that could engulf his size. Or perhaps those cute little feet of hers stroking the length of him, clad in the very socks with which he now pleasured himself. That would truly be paradise.

"Come on, Pete," his vision of her moaned. "Cum for your little sister."

If pressed, Peter would deny his incestuous feelings. Really, when it came right down to it, he knew it was wrong and that Melanie was not meant to be an object of his desire. But with her close-cropped blonde hair, cute button nose, and dynamite body, resistance was futile.

In order to curb the guilt he felt, he often projected the faces of other girls onto her. But the fact remained: the very smell of Melanie aroused him. It didn't matter if he thought of her numerous friends, the hot girls from his classes, or even Mrs. Trayham from next door. It was always Melanie's raw scent that got him going, that seemingly paradoxical aroma of girlish innocence and vixen arousal.

His orgasm approached, starting in his thighs and clenching inward, hitting his balls and ricocheting upward through his dick. It took all his self-control to rip the sock off and pump the load into his hand, his breath coming fast, his moans barely suppressed. He sighed and leaned against the washing machine, spunk dribbling off his palm. He wiped off on one of his own crusty sport socks and zipped his pants.

"Another day in paradise," he said morosely.

As he turned toward the detergent, he caught the sound of a stair squeaking. He froze.

Was that Melanie? Had she heard him? He waited like a startled lizard.

With his long, lanky limbs, buzz cut, and unfinished tattoo sleeves, the comparison to a lizard was not far off. Peter looked like he could be wiry, scrappy, but he was really just thin. He spent his days playing on the computer and doing occasional web design jobs. About the only exercise he got was a short walk to the community college campus or to the store for an energy drink. If Melanie caught him jacking off with her underwear, she could easily beat the shit out of him.

Peter called out Melanie's name but received no response. He finished starting the laundry and went upstairs with a wary heart.

The next few hours passed uneventfully. Peter was tuned out, now engaged in a rousing match of Megaton Empire Online. He and his opponent were both at maximum tech level, their forces stuck in a constant struggle for the center of the map. However, victory was soon to be in Peter's grasp, for he had just finished constructing a Pyrite Class Dreadnought—that's when Melanie entered his room.

"Whatup, nerd?" She wrapped her arms around him from behind, placing his head firmly between her breasts. "Playing video games again?"

"Trying to," he said through clenched teeth, his cock already stirring to life.

He didn't have to look at Melanie to know that she was dressed in one of her thin tank tops, sans bra. Her flesh was still clammy from the outdoors, but it was soft and warming up quickly.

She sighed, chest inflating around his ears. "You are never going to get laid if you do that all day. How old are you—twenty—and still a virgin?"

"Shut up!"

"Or what? You gonna teach me a lesson, little big bro?" Her arms ratcheted tighter, pushing his head deeper into her cleavage. "Look at you. You can't even take your baby sister."

He struggled against her, but only succeeded in jostling his erection, which sprouted to full mast unimpeded.

Melanie's breath caught in her throat. "Oh damn."

Peter froze, afraid and aroused at the same time.

To his surprise, she simply patted his shoulder affably. "Listen, the girls are coming over soon."

"The girls?"

"Yeah," her hand didn't leave his shoulder, "my friends. You know that word? Friend? Buddy? Chum? BFF?"

"I know what a friend is."

For some reason, he hadn't moved to cover himself yet—he stayed frozen, his aching erection on display through his basketball shorts. Part of him thought that maybe she would disregard it if he simply refused to acknowledge the damn thing. But part of him wanted her to look, to approve, to reach down and stroke him.

Peter finally turned around to face her.

She appraised him, her bangs obscuring one eye, tank top gaping open with creamy flesh. "Right, okay, so you know what a friend is. Well, I've got more than one of them and they're coming over for a sock party."

"Sock party?"

"Are you a fucking parrot? Yeah, we're going to test out our new socks."

Though he scoffed, the image of her cute little feet clad in a pair of warm, wooly socks made him throb. "How much 'testing' could a pair of socks possibly require? You put them on your feet and then you walk around in them. Done. They either fit or they don't."

Something about her smirk sent a shiver up his spine. "Why don't you join us and find out? If nothing else, you'll get to see some prime T&A.; It is a slumber party, after all."

"When are they coming over?"

The doorbell rang.

"Now."

Five minutes later, Peter found himself surrounded by hot, nubile young women. Melanie was something of a magnet for other sex kittens, though he took solace in the fact that only four of them had shown up.

On one side were the twins, Mandy and Anna, recognizable by their striking copper hair, heavy eyelashes, and outrageous breasts. Physically, their breasts weren't actually that large, but when built on such tiny waists and ribcages, their c-cups became mythic. They had graceful, serpentine features and bright emerald eyes. They looked like a pair of temptresses out of legend. It was difficult to tell them apart, but Peter could usually identify them by dress. Usually. This evening, however, they had both donned matching white t-shirts (a size too small, of course) and red booty shorts. They were practically interchangeable.

On the opposite end of the room was Erin. Rail-thin, septum pierced, and hair colored like a peacock, she possessed an androgynous, retro 80's skater chic, which Melanie occasionally borrowed from. Peter found her a little confusing at times, especially when she wore polo shirts and baggy parachute pants, but this occasion saw her in nothing more than a sports bra and tiny black thong. Her nipples stood at rigid attention, her hips looking as ripe and feminine as ever. She threw glances at Peter and licked her lips.

Finally, there was Kat, whom Peter found to be the most mesmerizing out of Melanie's friends. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she was not as profoundly attractive as Erin or the twins—and certainly not as delicious as Melanie herself. She was a nerd, a mousy haired geek girl, and it made Peter want her all the more. Supple in all dimensions, she was neither particularly curvy nor too thin. She had short, plump legs and a compact chest that rode high and proud. She wore her hair in a bun and regarded the world with an open, bespectacled kind of curiosity. Many was the night Peter had dreamed of fucking her face, that honest and slightly bored expression of hers overlooking him as his meat slid in and out of her lips.

Melanie, hips a-sway, stepped into the center of the room. Her gunmetal grey tank top and urban cameo panties left little to the imagination, not that Peter hadn't spied her naked multiple times. He knew that the lips of her pussy were heavy and sweet, that her nipples were the color of raspberries, that a little black mole decorated her left thigh. But his brain was not occupied by any of that. He was fixated on the armload of fuzzy socks that she carried.

"Alright, girls, here they are," said Melanie, dumping the socks on the floor. "Our weapons of choice."

"Weapons?" thought Peter. It was hardly the word he'd use—he supposed he might call them weapons of distraction or weapons of arousal.

They were ankle length socks, all made of angora wool, and colored in a wide variety of pastels, including baby blue, lilac, pink, and cream. Intermixed were pairs in more vibrant colors, notably violet and tangerine. His mind revolved through the colors, mentally placing them on Melanie's feet. As he stared longingly at the pile of socks, the girls gathered in a circle around him.

"Hey, Peter."

He looked up at each of them, aware of the individual hairs on the back of his neck, aware of how vulnerable he was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"You asked how we were going to test out our socks, right? Well, this is how. We're going to test them out on you."

"Me?" he squeaked.

In answer, Melanie walked over to the pile and fished out one of the baby blue pairs and began slipping them on her feet. The color matched her eyes perfectly.

"You like socks. I know you do." She wiggled her toes and bounced on her heels. "It's why you're always doing the laundry. At first I thought you just wanted to sniff my underwear, but I saw the truth last week."

Peter shivered. He looked around at the other girls, but they were a wall of silent, hungry stares. Even Kat looked at him with intensity. Despite his nervousness, Peter could feel his lap tightening.

"Why don't you stand up and show us that massive dick of yours?"

If he'd been drinking anything, Peter would have done a spit-take.

Melanie walked over and pointed a foot at him, the toes forming a fuzzy little spear aimed directly at his crotch. "I know you're hung, big bro. I've seen you 'wearing' my socks. It's a snug fit."

His heart sank. "Sis, I can explain—"

"There's nothing to explain. Big brother's got a big erection for his tiny, barely-legal sister." She looked down at her breasts, straining the fabric of her tank top like a pair of casabas, and grinned. "Well, maybe not 'tiny.' Come on, help us out. I bet Kat would like to see it."

Kat nodded her head earnestly, eyes widening. "Oh yeah."

Peter gaped at her and his hands moved of their own accord. He lifted his hips and pushed his shorts and underwear down in one movement. His cock sprang into view, harder than it had ever been."

Melanie purred. "Don't forget the balls."

He was caught up short. "My balls?"

"Your balls, dummy. Pull your scrotum out from between your thighs. Give us the full package."

Though his brain was starting to pulse with warning signals, Peter spread his legs and hefted them up. He'd always found them kind of annoying, but they apparently pleased the girls, for all of them gave a collective gasp.

"Goddamn, boy," said Erin, now on her haunches, crouching before him. "I've seen a lot of plums, but these things are the size of actual fucking plums. How do you walk?"

"He doesn't," teased Mallory. "He sits at his computer all day and masturbates."

Peter's dick twitched and Erin gave a throaty laugh. "Big guy looks like he could blow at any minute."

"He better not," piped Mandy. "We can't have a sock party with a limp noodle."

"I've...already masturbated today," said Peter, "so, you know..."

"Oh, trust me, I know," said Melanie. "You looked so cute, pumping away with your bony arms, my sock covering your dick like a little beanie cap."

He blushed.

"But enough foreplay. Who wants to start?"

Erin was already running over to the pile of socks.

Trying not to sound too nervous, Peter asked, "What are you going to do?"

Erin chose the tangerine colored socks, which complemented her rainbow hair nicely. Without a word, she squatted over him and pressed her warm and slightly moist labia onto his dripping cock head. Her thong was hardly even a barrier. Peter moaned at the sudden friction and contact.

"You like that?" asked Erin in her naturally husky voice, undulating her hips a little.

Peter wanted to soak the whole image in—he couldn't believe this hot punk rocker was centimeters away from fucking him. Erin's reputation was extensive, but she wasn't easy. Her eyes were like obsidian arrowheads, her breasts at full tautness. But his eyes couldn't help but linger on her socked feet.

She caught his eye and laughed. "I almost forgot. This is supposed to be a sock party after all."

He didn't have time to comment. Erin straightened up and brought one heel down on his balls. All attempts at language died in Peter's throat. She jerked her foot as though twisting a knife and he cried out in pain.

"Don't those socks just feel so good?" cooed Melanie. "They're all soft and warm and fresh from the dryer. And it's getting so cold outside—they're just perfect."

"They are," said Erin, raising her foot off his balls before bringing the other one down.

Peter groaned, his entire lower gut on fire. He could feel his balls swelling underneath her feet, becoming even larger. Even more vulnerable.

"Erin, please," he begged, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked sweetly.

"For whatever it is I did," he said with a grimace, "to make you hit me."

"This is the sock party, dumbass. We're testing our socks out on your balls. That's how it works. Don't tell me you've never been to a sock party before."

He shook his head. Despite the pain, he couldn't deny how much he liked having her weight on him, particularly when clad in such lovely socks.

"Well, you're in for a treat, my friend." Erin finally relinquished his package and squatted again, bringing her wet pussy back over his throbbing crown. "Because by the time we're done with you, you're not going to have a drop of cum left."

The other girls exchanged a knowing glance. Peter felt his stomach flutter with excitement. He didn't like the thought of them continuing to brutalize his balls, but when was he going to get another chance like this again? Here he was, surrounded by hot girls—hot girls in cute, fuzzy socks no less. Even in his wildest dreams, he hadn't dared to imagine it. And now he was practically inside Erin. He looked up at Melanie and his heart skipped a beat at the thought of her participation.

"I like them big," muttered Erin as she gyrated, "but this may be a bit much for my little pussy. What do you think, Pete? Should I try it out?"

He nodded vigorously.

She chuckled. "Not so fast, hotshot. This thing could tear me apart." She got on her knees, perpendicular to his hips, and took his dick in hand. "Fucking look at it. Need to go slow with this."

He pumped his hips a little, feeling his foreskin slide with her fingers.

"Ha! You cheeky bastard." Her grip moved lower and formed a ring around his balls, jerking them away from his body in one solid mass.

He cried out in a strangled tone, which only motivated her to tug harder.

"Anyone up for a little kickball?" she asked, brandishing his nuts about.

Mandy stepped forward, a pair of creamy yellow socks already hugging her feet. "Keep him nice and tight."

"Oh, don't worry." Erin winked at him. "You're not going anywhere, are you?"

Peter gulped.

"I hope not. Because then I couldn't do this." Erin flicked her tongue stud against the underside of his dick and engulfed the tip in a wet little kiss.

Peter threw his head back and moaned. His lower body was a battlefield, simultaneously tortured by Erin's painful grip and shaking with pleasure from her mouth. He could see her sock-clad feet tucked up underneath her, like she was kneeling in prayer, having a private audience with his dick.

Mandy took to the far side of the room. Erin scooted to the side a little more and held his balls out even further. Satisfied, Mandy broke into a run.

Peter watched in horror as her beautiful, cream-colored feet came flying at him in slow motion, punting his defenseless balls. He howled at the ceiling, aware of nothing except the anguish. He was sure his nuts had flown clean off.

"Don't scream so loud. You'll upset the neighbors."

Limbs quaking, Peter looked down at his crotch. Much as they hurt, he was gratified to see his balls intact, although now swollen and red as cherries. Erin's hand hadn't moved an inch, but she was now actively fellating him. Her mouth moved in confident strokes, each bob of her head rolling the pain back a little.

"Whatsamatter, Pete? Don't you like getting head?"

Erin popped off. "Yeah. Do you want me to stop?"

"No, no!" he said desperately. "But—"

"Good," said Mandy, returning to the far side of the room and squaring up, her breasts jiggling playfully. "Because that wasn't a clean hit. Gonna have to try it again."

"Better switch socks," said Anna.

"Good idea."

Erin hummed on his cock and pulled harder on his balls. Mandy donned another pair of cream colored socks, but these had ribbed trimming around the hem. She did a lunging squat, her toned thighs gleaming in the living room's incandescent light.

"Erin, give me some kind of signal."

At her request, Erin's teeth latched onto Peter's crown, immediately staunching the bubbly sensation and causing him to scream. Mandy pounded across the carpeted floor and put her foot squarely in the middle of Peter's outstretched manhood. The solid thwack filled his ears. His balls rattled around on the end of Erin's fist, swelling to obscene size.

"Good shot," cheered the girls.

Peter was utterly winded, delirious with pain.

"Okay, it's my turn," insisted Anna.

A look of sibling rivalry passed between her and Mandy. "You think you can make a cleaner shot?"

"It's not a question of 'clean.' He's already the size of an actual kickball now. It's all about timing, connecting with them at the right moment and with the right leverage. It's the only way to really get the loft you want."

"Golf nerds," said Melanie with good-natured sarcasm. "Bro, how're you holding up?"

Peter wanted desperately to tell her that he'd had enough. He could feel his balls begging to retract back into his body. His abs were clenching so tight he felt ready to vomit. But then there was Erin's soft mouth, coaxing him back from the edge, drawing soft wet lips and an agile tongue across his most sensitive parts.

Anna was already lined up and ready to strike. Peter tried to catch her gaze, non-verbally entreat her to go easy on him, but her eyes were filled with determination. Her slim shoulders were piled with fiery locks, the shadows of her cleavage like the event horizon of a black hole. She hopped up and down, distracting him even more with the movements of her breasts.

"Fucking go!" heckled Mandy.

With lightning speed, Anna dashed across the room. There was a brief moment in which Peter could see her suspended in midair, the lilac wool of her socks a blur. Then she connected at maximum force, nearly taking Erin's hand out in the process. His balls ricocheted with a meaty, violent slap. The room broke into applause.

"You see, it's all in the timing," said Anna with catty delight.

Peter's mouth was a silent scream.

"Could someone else take cocksucking duty for now?" asked Erin. "My jaw's getting sore. Fucker's like the fat end of a coke bottle."

"I don't think that's necessary," said Melanie. "Not all of us have an oral fixation."

Erin stuck her tongue out flippantly and then winked at Peter. "Maybe you can fuck my face later." Peter could hardly breathe.

"I've got something better in mind," said Melanie, turning to the twins. "I'm thinking it's time for a hotdog with a little ground mustard. Unless Erin absolutely needs to suck my brother's cock..."

***

"Ah, you rookie-ass bitches wouldn't know fun if it blew a load in your eye. I get to be grinder."

Melanie rolled her eyes.

The twins lined up on either side of Peter, their asses poised like luscious fruits waiting to drop off the tree. On three, they went into symmetrical squats and sandwiched his throbbing erection. With their backs arched, orange hair aglow, and the perfect slopes of their buttocks sliding around his meat, Peter thought he might cum right there.

It was like being dry-humped in stereo, fucked by perfect mirror images. The thin cotton of their booty shorts only added to the friction, causing him to squirm. His eyes drifted to their feet, the way their toes flexed within their socks and gripped at the carpet. It was easy to imagine the twins in coitus, bouncing up and down on some beefy jock, moaning in high-pitched tones, those same toes bunching up around a bedspread. Peter could feel his orgasm approach. This was it, all the abuse was about to pay off.

"Someone's getting close," said Anna, slightly out of breath.

Erin cackled. "Alright, time for the mustard."

Heaven was ripped out from under Peter. Though he couldn't see it, he knew Erin had stomped on his balls with all her might. The air was gone from his lungs. There was nothing left in his brain except a world of synesthesia, pain transmuted into colors. Distantly, he could discern her fuzzy heel grinding his balls into the carpet. He thought he tasted blood, or maybe it was his own sperm—political refugees from the battleground that had become his nuts.

"Ha ha, they're so big I almost slipped on them."

"Like a banana peel?"

Laughter filled his ears as pain engulfed his entire lower half.

But the twins were still there, sliding up and down his shaft, which had not drooped at all.

"Maybe a few more pumps of mustard," said Erin.

She stomped repeatedly, though lighter and faster, like she was pumping a brake pedal in the snow. Peter focused doggedly on the lilac wool of Anna's feet, picturing it wrapped around him, stroking him. Somewhere in the process, the incredible pain of Erin's stomping became more and more pleasurable.

"That's it, baby." Her eyes were fixed upon him, one finger inside her thong. "I'm just grinding up a pair of big, fat mustard seeds. I'm just fixing a snack."

Peter allowed the pain to steal over him. He was lost to Erin's foot as she softly, insistently pumped away at his balls.

"Phew," exclaimed Mandy, pausing. "That's a workout."

Melanie stood nearby, a visible wet spot in the front of her panties, her bountiful breasts studded with arousal—Peter couldn't believe how much his sister was enjoying this. How long had she been planning to do this to him?

"I think Kat deserves a turn," he suggested weakly.

The twins ceased moving and Erin gave him a quizzical look. "But what about my mustard?"

"I think you're breaking the dispenser." He forced a grin, hoping it would win them over.

He was answered by a chorus of sadistic smiles. "God, you're cute."

"I think he's right, though," said Melanie. "Kat? You still haven't tested out any socks."

A sprout of hope germinated in Peter's chest. Surely Kat wasn't as cruel as the others. Sweet, nerdy, introverted Kat—she wouldn't try to flatten his balls. It wasn't like her.

She approached, clad in bright pink socks and a thin nightshirt, see-through, especially with her red bra underneath. Through all the pain and humiliation, Peter hoped she liked what she saw. His cock stiffened with pride.

She looked him over as if examining a lab specimen.

"They're swollen like a pair of balloons," she said. "I wonder if you can bounce up and down on them."

"Only one way to find out," said Erin, running a socked toe across his length.

Peter's heart sank.

Air rushed out of his lungs as Kat put her weight on one testicle, then gingerly lowered a foot onto the other. She wiggled experimentally, causing him to gnash his teeth. His balls well and truly resembled balloons by now, swelling grossly as they inflated to support her weight.

"This is fun," said Kat with a little smile, successfully bouncing up and down on his tortured jewels. "Are you having fun?"

He gave her a pitiful look, his eyes begging her.

"Look at my breasts, Peter." Her coyness had blossomed into unabashed sadism. "Look how perky they are, how horny you're making me. Can you see them jiggling?"

He could. Despite the overwhelming agony, his cock was an iron rod, ribbed with swollen veins and purple in hue. Kat looked at it hungrily. His balls throbbed beneath her heels.

"Anyone else want a turn on this air castle?"

The other girls looked eager, but it was Melanie who stepped up first. "Let me. I've wanted to do this since I was 12 years old."

Peter didn't have time to process that. Kat had no sooner disembarked from his testicles, giving him a brief respite from the pressure, when Melanie took her place. And unlike Kat, who had been somewhat gentle, Melanie jumped right on.

"Oh, these are awesome," his sister whooped.

"Mel," Peter moaned in strangled agony. "Mel, please..."

She bounced vigorously, each iteration like a fuzzy, woolen punch to the core of his being. Every fiber was twisted up, thrashing, trying to escape the punishment.

"I love how big they are—they're like overripe plums, just waiting to split open." She squatted, all her weight still firmly on his balls, and wrapped her hands around his erection for balance. "However, it's your banana that's truly impressive. I think it's the biggest I've ever seen. Someone needs to take that virginity of yours, big brother, and it's going to be me."

Peter gasped with relief as she stepped off him. He could feel how swollen he was, how turgid and sensitive his balls had become. He glanced between his legs, saw that they were the color of eggplants, and almost as large.

His vision went dark as two feet slid over his head and covered his eyes, tickling him with woolen fibers, inundating him with the smell of fabric softener and feminine heat.

"No peeking," said either Mandy or Anna.

Peter found this development far more terrifying than anything else that'd occurred previously. The loss of sight magnified his other senses, and in particular, his feelings of helplessness and the pain that saturated every nerve. He expected something horrible. He waited for another jab, another flying kick, or another heavy body to stand on his most sensitive parts. What he got instead was a burst of profound warmth.

For a moment, he thought Erin had resumed blowing him, causing his cock to flex with eagerness and pleasure. This was met by a sharp, feminine inhalation, clearly Melanie's voice. His hips were being pressed into the floor. That's when Peter realized that he was inside his sister—he and Melanie were having sex.

"Mel," he groaned.

"Shh, I know." He could feel her straining around him, gently lowering herself down.

"How's your first cock treating you?" asked Erin in a saccharine whisper.

First? Peter bucked, but his arms and head were pinned under nubile girl flesh.

"That's right, bro. You're my first." He could feel her shiver as she plunged deeper. "And goddamn but it is fantastic."

Socked feet caressed his chest. His sister moaned and began to move more vigorously, tight as a fist. The power and intensity of it was incredible, more than he'd ever imagined. He was dying to see her on top. Her hands were on his stomach, her body a hot, heavy weight. She gyrated to a frenzied tempo, driving little moans and squeaks out of herself.

"Ohmygod, I'm cumming," she shouted.

Peter smiled like an idiot—he couldn't believe he was making his sister cum so easily. Meanwhile his own orgasm was welling up, causing his dick to spasm. The feet withdrew from his eyes, giving him an eyeful of Melanie's o-face. She looked to be in pain, screaming silently, but her thighs were locked tight around him, as though she never wanted to let him go. Her breasts were magnificent, pushed together by her arms and spilling out of her tank top.

"I'm going to cum too," he said hoarsely.

"Oh no you aren't," replied Kat in a deadpan voice.

A sharp and immediate pain stripped him of all pleasure. Peter nearly choked on his tongue, such was the swift intensity of the feeling.

"You can't see it, but Kat's twisting your balls," reported Erin in a gleeful tone. "She's just going for it."

"Can't have him spoiling the party," she said, giving his balls another quarter turn

Melanie shuddered as her orgasm finally began to subside. "Oh fuck. Oh, Pete. Ohmygod."

She and Peter clung to one another as Kat continued applying the brakes to his orgasm. Melanie stroked his hair and planted soft little kisses on his mouth. He was in too much pain to reciprocate. He could feel his tubes squealing for mercy.

"I can feel your spasms inside of me." Melanie nipped his earlobe. "We can't untwist them just yet. Not until the little gentleman calms down."

"I can't believe how much control you can exert through these things," said Kat, eyes wide behind her glasses. "I'll have to try this out on my brother."

"Darren?"

"No, not Darren. I'm talking about Robbie. The little shit keeps walking in on me when I'm taking a shower. Definitely on purpose."

"Well, that's an easy fix," said Melanie, wriggling her hips and causing Peter to moan. "Just grab a handful of his M&M;'s."

Kat snorted. "There's no way he's big enough to warrant a 'handful' of anything. Speaking of which, I think Peter's finally ready for round two."

Peter sighed with relief as his nuts were untwisted. Grudgingly, Melanie slid off him. He could see her labia: puffy and wet, like a slit peach.

Erin jaunted over, divested of her thong and sports bra, butt naked except for her bright orange socks. "My turn."

Mandy and Anna made disgruntled noises, to which Erin flipped them double birds. "Don't pout. He's got a mouth, you know."

"Two at once?" said Anna incredulously.

Erin winked at her. "I've got a mouth too, sugar tits."

She grimaced, arms crossing over her breasts. "I don't really swing that way."

"Well I'm not opposed to it," announced Mandy, pulling her shirt up. "Show me what you got."

Her sister blanched. "Really?"

Mandy shrugged, unclasping her bra and letting her tits roll into view. "Erin's cute. Why not see what Pete can do for you."

Anna bit her lip in a way that caused Peter's dick to flex.

Erin smirked and began working the head of his cock around her entrance. "I just can't get over this thing. I've seen a lot of quality dick—there's a reason I hang with the punk crowd—but this is fucking absurd."

Mandy kneeled by Erin, cupping her own perfect breasts and pushing their cherry-tipped nipples out. Taking the invitation, Erin's lips closed around one, eliciting groans of pleasure from them both. Simultaneously, Erin lowered herself onto Peter's shaft and her groan became a sharp, muffled gasp. The same wonderful heat enveloped him and he did his best to enjoy it without thinking about Kat's twisting fingers.

Anna stood over him, a questing look on her. "You ever eat a girl out?"

Peter shook his head, his concentration split between the copper-haired goddess and the slender she-devil currently riding him.

"You're about to learn."

She slid her booty shorts off. A landing strip of fiery curls guided him to her enshrouded lips—the aroma coming off her mound was heady and sweet. Without ceremony, she sat down on his face, plunging him into darkness.

"Wiggle your tongue," she commanded.

Peter moaned as Erin picked up speed, clenching tight around him.

"Kat, get his attention."

Excruciating pain returned, wrenching Peter away from Erin's ministrations. Desperate, Peter began tonguing blindly, replicating what he'd seen in numerous porn videos.

"That's a good start," said Anna, not sounding much impressed. "Find my clit—it's a firm little button, just under the hood. Press the button."

Peter had no idea what she was talking about. It was difficult to breathe and his head was being pulled in so many different directions. Erin gave a loud, open-mouthed yelp, now riding him full force. Kat had not stopped squeezing his balls. He continued to probe until he found something that resembled her description. He worked up a mouth full of saliva and sucked on the tight little bud.

The transformation was instantaneous. Anna bucked as if electrocuted and ground down on his mouth, demanding more. He obeyed, suckling and flicking his tongue like he was working away at a tiny ice cream cone.

Anna cooed. "Good boy."

Peter didn't know how long their little orgy continued for, but at some point, Erin latched onto his hips—much the way Melanie had—and began shouting in orgasm. Anna joined her a few seconds later, both of them grinding and pounding and screaming away on top of him. He wiggled his hips, working hard to secure his own orgasm before Kat could rip it away from him. He was so close.

"Coming through!"

Erin's heat was ripped from him, along with Anna's. He was re-exposed to the world, bright and naked and cold. For a moment, his vision was filled with the fluorescent living room lights. Pounding feet brought his focus to Kat, who was charging full force at his open legs.

He watched in slow motion as she went flying through the air and landed with both feet on his crotch. The pain was transcendental, unreasonable, all encompassing. Dimly, he registered the look of complete satisfaction on her face, but his head was primarily occupied by the orgasm that was once again denied him. His paralyzed diaphragm unbuckled, finally sucking in air, though it only launched him into a coughing fit. He began to tear up.

"Don't cry, Peter." She stepped off his violated manhood and allowed him to curl into a fetal ball. "It's unbecoming."

He clenched his teeth, biting back a retort.

Melanie came over and cradled his head in her lap. "I bet you're still hard."

"I can't help it," he moaned.

"Of course not. But, Petey, the party's not over. Kat and Mandy and Anna still haven't sampled your wonderful cock yet. You don't want to disappoint them, do you?"

"I need to cum." He looked at her pleadingly. "It hurts so bad."

She sniffed. "Well that's a selfish attitude. You've got a room full of beautiful girls fawning over your dick—more gorgeous pussy than some men get in a lifetime—and all you can think about is shooting your load as quickly as possible."

He gaped at her. "I can get it up again. I promise. I'll last even longer the second time."

Melanie shook her head and buried his face in her cleavage. "No dice, bro."

He breathed in her sultry skin, one hand tentatively cupping her breast.

"See?" she said with a boisterous laugh. "You're fine. You just need some boobs. 30ccs of boobies, stat! Come on, big bro, don't be shy. Play with your little sister's titties. You've been aching for them since freshman year."

He sampled her flesh, grunting and slurping at the delicious, pliant breasts that enveloped him.

"You know how many guys would kill to do this? You are one lucky man."

He nodded, finding one of her nipples and slipping it between his teeth.

"Mmm, Pete. That feels so nice."

A woolen foot began prying at his legs. Nervously, but obediently, Peter spread them, eyes magnetically drawn to the honeybee yellow socks now gracing Mandy's feet. Her hands were already on him, tugging his shaft and pumping his balls with gentle but insistent squeezes. "No more distractions. I want you inside me. Now."

Melanie giggled and untangled herself from Peter's roving lips, tucking each heavy breast back into the confines of her tank top. "I'll twist. You hump."

Kat took Melanie's place at Peter's head, this time offering up her own dripping snatch. "Annie seemed to enjoy herself," she said, her collected empiricism now replaced by eager embarrassment.

Peter allowed her thighs to settle on either side of his head and dove into her heat, savoring, giving himself fully to the moment. Kat had a spicier taste than Anna, more acidic and heady, but he loved it. And judging by the squeaky gasps escaping her, so did Kat. All reservations fell away as she curled her fingers into his hair.

Time dilated. Peter serviced the rotating cadre of women, each one taking their turn on his cock and face. The need to cum had grown into a raw, driving hunger that burned his brain like a fever. Stockholm Syndrome took its toll and Peter found himself uttering words like, "You're going to make me cum if you don't stop." Invariably, someone was on hand to twist his balls until the orgasm faded.

At one point, Melanie called for a break and the girls took turns stroking him with their feet.

"I know how much you like socks," she said, her nipples once again in his mouth. "You just have to be a good boy and not cum for us until we tell you can."

Mandy wore pastel green socks, little baubles on the hem, and was busy tickling his balls with the tips of her toes. "How many kicks do you think you could take, Peter?"

His eyes went wide.

She giggled. "You've held out pretty well—longest lasting sock party I've ever been to. I bet you could take a hundred kicks. Full on."

"Well don't try that just yet," said Kat, showing new bravado since taking a ride on Peter's dick—her cheeks were still flushed from the experience. "I want to bounce on his balls some more."

"And I still want him to fuck my face," interrupted Erin. "Can't break his balls just yet."

"Tell y'all what," said Melanie, "everyone gets five minutes to do whatever they want to Peter. After that, we'll ask him what he wants. We'll go in ascending order of intensity. Fair?"

"I just want to fuck him some more," said Anna, eyes aglow with lust, "so I guess that puts me at the front of the line."

The others conceded this. Anna gave his enormous sack a playful kick, causing him to wince, then crawled onto his lap. Arms twined around his neck, she carefully inserted him. His hands instinctively went to her hips and the two of them commenced their dance. She held him close, biting his shoulder, and pounded away. Her hips undulated, the powerful muscles in her ass rolling with each thrust. Her breasts were like silken pillows on his chest, her hair a curtain of floral scents. One of his hands clasped her foot, thrilled at the touch of soft angora wool. He thrust harder, trying to create more friction. Finally, she threw back her head and came with a whimper, her juices flooding out. She wiggled gently and allowed him to pump some more, caress her feet, but Melanie called out time.

"Thanks for the ride," she said, giving his balls a forceful punch that caused him to double over.

Erin was next and she wasted no time in palpating his jewels, crunching the thick and swollen gems between her fingers like they were putty. "How ya feeling, stud?"

Peter moaned pathetically as she continued to knead him.

"Oh, you love it," she said with a wink. "And you'll love this even more."

She made a show of licking him, from base to tip. Caught between excitement and the agony that burned throughout his body, Peter gave a feral, frustrated groan.

"Now that I like." She guided one of his hands to her colorful hair and closed his fingers around her scalp. "Fuck my face, Pete. Shove your dick down my throat."

She nearly gagged when he obliged her, ramming in as much of his impressive length as her esophagus would allow. She sputtered and choked, but every time he tried to slow down, she only moaned in protest and forced him deeper. He was hesitant to push her head down, but the more he did so, the more her noises were intermingled with cries of pleasure. She came up for air several times, but he never left the confines of her mouth. She gave him a darling look, mouth distended by the fullness of his shaft. Peter always imagined Kat in this position, but he couldn't see her enjoying it—Erin, on the other hand, was practically cumming just from bobbing on him.

"That's time," said Melanie suddenly, looking envious.

Erin rolled her eyes and gave one of his testicles a long, hard pinch, holding the pressure until he begged her to stop. "Good luck, boyo."

"Erin," he said desperately, wanting her with every fiber of his being, "please. It hurts so much. Just get me off. I don't care if it's a handjob or even just a toe, but please—"

"Shh shh shh," she gave him a radiant smile. "Believe me, I would. I would swallow every drop and then do it again just to make sure you were empty. But that wouldn't be fair to everyone else. Just hold out for another ten minutes, okay?"

Peter detected a note of melancholy in her voice, but Kat was upon him before he could say anything more. She inspected him, hefting his thoroughly bruised scrotum and feeling for the solid, meaty orbs at the center.

"They can certainly take a lot of abuse, can't they?" she said loudly, perhaps jealous of Erin as well—Peter didn't like the look in her eyes. "Maybe yours were made to be abused."

He shook his head in disagreement.

She arched an eyebrow at his erection. "He seems to have a different opinion."

"Just get it over with," said Peter, sick of being teased.

Kat's eyes narrowed. With spiteful force, she mounted his balls, stomping her feet as though trying to crush grapes. His yowling filled the living room as her trampling grew more forceful.

"It must suck having such large balls," she said over the din of his anguished cries. "Look at how weak and vulnerable they are. There's no reason for them to exist. I'd be doing you a favor if I just squashed them right now."

Her assault seemed to last an eternity, but when time was finally called, Kat finished by standing tiptoed on his nuts, arms stretched to the ceiling.

"Forget yoga mats—I should practice on a pair of these from now on."

Melanie laughed. "I take it Robbie's in for a surprise?"

"Oh is he ever."

Kat left him a ragdoll, unable to do much more than moan.

For Mandy's turn, Peter was brought to his feet, forcibly held up by Anna and Melanie. He remained limp in their grasp, his stomach clenching painfully in anticipation.

"Someone stroke that cock," said Mandy. "Don't want him getting soft."

Erin obliged, giving him a furtive wink and tugging lovingly at his foreskin. He looked at her with a plea in his eyes and she mouthed the words, "Five minutes."

"Fifty with the left and fifty with the right," said Mandy, taking a fighting stance.

"Legs or testicles?"

"Yes."

She balled her fists and went to work. The first few kicks were light, though nonetheless painful—his balls were fire engine red and hypersensitive. He grunted with each strike, trying not to think about how many kicks a hundred really was. Around thirty, they became slower and more forceful, jerking his pelvis up and causing him to cry out. Her breathing got heavier.

"Winded?" asked Anna. "You need to get back to the gym."

"Shut up. When's the last time you did fifty kicks in a row?" Her ire manifested into a vicious snap kick that made Peter crumple. "Now the left leg."

The girls redoubled their efforts to hold him up—Erin stroking all the harder. Mandy's five minutes were nearly up and she put on a burst of furious speed, delivering rapid fire kicks with unerring precision.

"Time!" called Melanie just as Mandy reached the end.

No longer supported, Peter collapsed to the floor, his chest heaving.

"Well, that's all she wrote," said Melanie. "How are you feeling, bro? Never mind. I think I can guess. You've been such a good sport—you've made this the best sock party ever. Now it's your turn. What can a room full of gorgeous babes do for you?"

Peter was delirious with nausea. He didn't know if he could—or even wanted to cum anymore. But he said it anyway.

"Let me cum. I'm begging you."

Erin fidgeted, but Melanie made a move first. "Wait a second, bro. I didn't have a turn yet."

His mouth fell open. "Sis—"

"No, don't pout. It's only fair, isn't it?"

Peter thought he might cry.

"Fortunately," his sister quickly amended, "we both want the same thing. But I think there's going to be a bit of an issue with that."

"Issue?" Peter looked at her in confounded horror. "What issue?"

"Um, have you seen your cajones lately? They are in bad shape."

He looked down at his crotch, discovering that his genitals had turned a sickening blue color, like two gigantic bruises.

She hissed in agreement. "You're probably going to need the ER."

"No!"

"I'm afraid so. You're going to need a doctor and you won't get to cum for a long time."

"Oh my god!"

"Calm down. There is one alternative."

"What is it? Tell me!"

She sucked in a dramatic breath. "Let's break your balls and force the cum right out."

Peter was dumbfounded.

"It's just like fixing a clogged hose. One good running leap should do it—they're already so damaged, it won't matter if I deflate them. Might even make it easier if you don't have all that juice sloshing around. What do you say, big bro? Should I break your nuts open? Or should we just take you to the hospital right now?"

His jaw chattered. "Mel—"

"We don't have a lot of time. You gotta pick one. Do you want to cum or not?"

Peter was adrift. He couldn't think. He could barely breathe. The pain in his muscles was unreasonable and there wasn't room in his brain for any word except "cum." He looked for Erin's gaze, but she was deadpan, or maybe he was too delirious to see straight. His cock throbbed and a spasm rocked his whole body, head to toe.

"Pete?"

"I need to cum," he whispered.

Melanie's smile was brighter than the rising sun. "I was hoping you'd say that."

He lay prone, spread eagled, while she took to the other side of the room. She flashed him a thumb's up and broke into a dead sprint.

At the last possible moment, her socked feet left the ground, heels high, destined for his exposed crotch like a falling arrow.

"Best. Sock Party. Ever!"

The pressure was like an explosion in his gut. White hot pain overthrew his every mortal sense, but was followed swiftly by a transcendent pleasure that was more radical, more complete than anything he'd ever experienced. Despite all the pain, his lizard brain had been craving this since the beginning.

Gargantuan fonts of cum erupted from his dick, coating his gleeful sister's feet. Furious jerks of his shaft accompanied each blast, spewing more semen than he even knew he could produce. He was bellowing with something beyond pain or pleasure. An unmistakable orgasm was plastered all over Melanie's face, with the others looking equally pleased, even Erin. Peter continued to jizz onto Melanie's woolen feet until, as promised, he didn't have a drop of cum left.

*** EPILOGUE:

"So, when do you get off?" Lothario asked. "I'm thinking we could go for a cocktail. You provide the tail and I'll provide the cock. Na'mean?"

"I don't really drink," said Erin, and immediately took her break.

Erin didn't know his real name—Trent or Bob or something—but "Lothario" came into the glass shop at least twice a week to pester her. In a college town filled with young babes, she was apparently the only one he wanted, or maybe just the only one who would stand still long enough.

"Meet you around back for a smoke?" he called.

She didn't answer him.

The attention might have been endearing if he wasn't such a fucking prick. He had the body of a gym rat and the wardrobe of Vanilla Ice, though his drinking habits were becoming apparent around the midriff. He would meander through the store, banter about the stock, and take every available opportunity to talk about her hair, tongue ring, or tits. The worst of it was that he bought just enough stuff that he couldn't be accused of loitering. Not that her boss exactly gave a shit about the harassment.

"The customer is always right," Albert would say in an uncompromising and snotty tone. "Besides, I can't exactly blame him—just take it as a compliment."

Erin stood in the back room for as long as possible, texting Melanie and nibbling on a cereal bar.

"We gonna get shitty tonight?" Melanie asked. "Drinky drinky?"

"Me no want drinky," texted Erin. "Head hurt. Ovaries hurt. Want ice cream."

"Bitch, you are a subpar human being."

"Please, Bitch is my mother's name. Friends call me Pussy Master."

"OH IF ONLY. Btw you might get a surprise tonight."

"What's that?"

";) gotta be patient. And you gotta come out tonight."

The door chime rang and Erin begrudgingly went back to the front. It turned out to just be Lothario, who was now opening and closing the door like a hyperactive child.

"Don't worry, it's just me," he said. "I missed you."

"Oh goodie," said Erin, hoping against hope that he would notice the sarcasm. "I've asked you so many times before not to—"

"You never answered me about that drink. I'm serious. When you get off?"

"The hours are posted on the door," she said coldly. "But I plan on staying overnight."

He chortled as though it were a joke. "Haha, what? You gotta do inventory or something?"

"Nope. I'm actually a robot. Once we close, my manager just wheels me away on a palletjack and plugs me in for the night. Also, I don't have genitals. Did I not mention that?"

His shit eating grin didn't slip. "Girl, you crazy but you sexy. I like that."

Erin was fed up. "Is there something you want to buy? Or are you just going to be weird and offensive all day? Because I got shit to do."

He shook his head, a thick coat of smarm plastered over his face. "Alright, alright, I can dig it."

"Good."

He bellied up to the counter. "I don't normally do this, but I'll make an exception for you."

She arched an eyebrow at him, ready to ask what the fuck he was talking about when he suddenly dropped trou. He wasn't wearing underpants and his penis flopped out onto the glass like a raw sausage.

"Try it before you buy it, babe." He cupped his balls and placed them on the counter as well. "I know what you're going to ask and the answer is nine and half at full mast. Six inches around. It's not John Holmes, but if you've had bigger, I'll eat my hat."

Erin sighed, not having moved an inch since he exposed himself. She clicked her fingers and studied his junk with pursed lips.

"Don't be shy," he said, glancing at the front door. "We can go in the back if you—"

"No, out here is fine," she said, abruptly grabbing hold of his meat. "The security cameras aren't working anyway."

He hissed contentedly. "You got some strong fingers."

"Mmhmm," she said, pinching and pulling his foreskin. "But, as it turns out, I have had bigger."

"Bullshit."

"Oh it's true," she worked the tip of his shaft, causing him to shiver and lean forward. "His cock is the stuff of legends. He might well be John Holmes incarnate."

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"Don't be jealous." She took each of his balls in hand and stroked the tender orbs. "You've still got some impressive meat on you, boy."

"I knew you were a freak," he said, face flushed with triumph. "The moment I saw you, I just knew you were nasty."

"Definitely. I am a fucking freaky bitch and I'm about to show you something." Erin made sure she had a firm grip on his jewels before pinching her fingers together and driving her nails deep into his scrotum.

Air rushed from Lothario's lungs. He didn't even scream, just choked on his own panic and surprise. Erin eased off and reapplied pressure in rapid succession. She imagined squeezing two clown horns and nearly giggled. Lothario wasn't even attempting to break away—his feet seemed rooted, hands frozen halfway to action. His mouth was open in a silent scream.

"Oh my gosh," said Erin, continuing to rhythmically mash his balls, "you look like a kicked puppy. Jesus, if I didn't know you, I'd almost feel bad."

A whimper escaped him. He began to reach for her hands and she twisted his manhood in response.

"I wouldn't do that. You've given me way too much trouble, so you're going to be a good little boy while I have some fun."

"I'm sorry," he wheezed. "Oh god."

"My name is Erin."

"Crazy...bitch..."

"That's what I tried to tell you." She hummed lightly and gave his sack another twist. "Why don't you come over here for a second?"

She walked him down the counter to the register, his balls trailing across the glass with a loud squeak. He hobbled and winced and begged her to let him go.

"Don't move an inch," she said, taking one hand off him. "I'm just getting something."

He tried to wriggle out and her remaining hand pinched so hard that he finally screamed.

"I warned you." She opened the register and picked out a roll of quarters. "I need your help opening these."

She swung the roll of silver down, creating a testicular pancake. His eyes bulged like a toad's. He had no air with which to make any more noise.

"Damn. The wrapper's still intact." She swung the quarters again, burying them in his swollen balls and pressing hard. The roll see-sawed over the tight little egg of his testicle. "One more ought to do it."

He shook his head wildly from side to side. In a matter of moments, he'd been reduced to a feral animal, utterly consumed with the pain in his balls, the fear that she was about to crush them.

"I know this will reflect poorly on other women, but really, we deserve better than this," she said, quarters poised above her head. "We deserve better than you. Show some respect."

She slammed the roll down and the glass countertop shook. The quarters finally broke free and were sent ricocheting off across the shop. Lothario crashed to the floor, balls finally slipping from her grasp. Erin came out from behind the counter and knelt at his side.

"Let's see what we got." She roughly shoved her hand between his thighs and felt him up, eliciting moans of despair. "Hmm. Both still there. Tough little fuckers, aren't they?"

Lothario was a babbling mess. She helped him to his feet and scooped up his testicles, shoving the swollen orbs back into his jeans. She left his dick flopping out like a soggy burrito and tugged the zipper up to the hilt.

"Aww, it's so cute looking."

"I'll tell your manager," he said, finally regaining some of his senses. "I'll tell the police."

"Tell them what? That you pulled your dick out in front of a strange woman and she reacted in self-defense? Or are you actually going to give them a play-by-play recap of how I broke a roll of quarters on your nuts? That makes you sound like a crazy person."

"I'm gonna get you for this, bitch. One way or another."

Calmly, Erin yanked the zipper up into his exposed manhood, catching it along the scrotum. Lothario uttered a high pitched yelp and clutched her shoulders. His eyes were straining in their sockets, his teeth clenched together with enamel-cracking intensity.

"That looks like it stings," said Erin, pulling him to the door by the head of his trapped penis. "You should probably go home and take care of that."

"Oh fuck. Oh Jesus."

"I told you, my name is Erin. Now get out."

Lothario obliged, hands shielding his junk. Through the blinds, Erin watched him hobble down the street in humiliation. People were stopping to watch him go, some taking cellphone pictures.

Just then, her manager returned from lunch. "Hey, Erin. Did I miss anything?"

She shook her head and smiled sweetly. "Not at all."

***

The parking lot was refreshingly dark and empty—another day gone by. Erin meandered to her car, debating on how to tell Melanie that she was feeling anti-social when she noticed someone leaning against her car. Her first reaction was to suspect Lothario. Had he liberated his junk and come back to rape her? Erin's hand went for her knife.

"Oh shit," said the figure, his voice instantly melting her antagonism. "Erin, please don't stab me."

"Peter?" She broke into a wide smile and jogged in for a closer look.

The skinny dork had his arms crossed, brows furrowed like a tough guy. His tattoos were looking good, the sleeve now filled in and vibrantly colored—a mishmash of animal imagery and fantastical combat.

Erin hugged him without warning, crushing her chest into his, arms twined around his neck. "Pete! Ohmygod, how are you?"

He hugged her back, running his palms up and down her back with tenderness. "I'm, uh, I'm good. How are you doing?"

She raked him with her eyes. "Better now that you're here. Assholes at work and all that. Let's talk in the car." Peter crammed his lanky frame into her tiny ass Geo metro, head brushing against the roof. Erin put the radio on low and turned her glittering gaze to him. She couldn't help but sneak a glance at his crotch, bulging with its legendary contents.

"I can tell you want to ask, so go ahead and ask," he said.

Erin liked the cool assertiveness in his voice. "Well, you're not speaking in a falsetto, so I assume the babymakers are still there?"

"It doesn't work like that. But yeah, they got me into surgery just in time and reconnected all the plumbing. Turns out this town has the highest rate of testicular trauma per capita in the nation, so they were prepared."

She giggled. "We've got the most skillful ball doctors around?"

"So it would seem," he said with a grin.

The warmth of that smile struck Erin in the heart, causing her mood to slip into serious mode. "Are you...mad for what we did?"

Peter looked pensive. "I was at first. But every time I thought of the intensity of that moment, that last orgasm, I was transported back into the ecstasy of it. It was the most incredible thing I've ever experienced. Yeah, there was a lot of pain at the ER, but I was lucky. When they told me they were able to fix the ruptures and that I would heal, I felt such an overwhelming relief. Now, everything seems different."

Erin bit her lip. "Like what?"

"My confidence is different. It's higher. A lot of guys think that losing their balls would be the worst thing to ever happen. But if the worst thing that could happen turned out to be one of the most astounding things...it really changes your perception of what's possible."

She ran a hand along his shoulder. "Can I see them?"

He gave her a wry look. "I don't think so."

"What? I'm not going to hurt them, Pete."

"Sure you are, and I'm going to let you, but I want it on my terms."

"Now that's not something I expected to hear."

He took her hand into his palms and looked her square in the eyes. "Erin, will you go out with me?"

"Oh my." Her fingers meshed with his. "I thought you had a thing for Kat."

"Maybe I have a thing for lots of girls."

"You definitely have a thing for your sister," she teased. "Not that I blame you. Girl is built like a brick house. How many times have you guys fucked since you got out of the hospital?"

"None. I want you, Erin. I want to give my balls to you."

This made her blush. "That's definitely not something I expected to hear."

"What's your answer?"

"Of course we can go out, dumbass." She leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips. "I don't let just anyone gag me with their cock, you know."

"Oh yeah? You seem the promiscuous type."

She ran her thumb along his jaw. "I am. And that's thing one you'll need to learn about me real quick. Sometimes I get bored and my boredom makes me do impulsive things."

"Like bust balls?"

"Especially that." Her hand sank to his crotch. "Fortunately for you, sweetnuts, I think you'll have an easy time keeping my attention."

Their lips met and they were lost to one another. He wasn't an expert kisser, but it hardly surprised her. She would just have to train him.

"Unzip," she said breathlessly.

"The boys are still tender," he admitted.

"As long as they can blow a load in my mouth, I don't care."

Working together, his fly was yanked down and his package freed. Erin whistled at his size, which was even larger than she remembered. She almost snorted at the memory of Lothario's sausage and ran a hand up and down Peter, loving the smoothness and the heat of his cock. She bent forward and tugged out his jewels, each one as large and full as billiard balls.

"They got bigger," she said, tracing the puckered surgery sites that lined each one. "You poor thing—they feel so heavy. When was the last time you came?"

"I had to 'test' them out recently. But that was the first time in weeks."

She sat up and bit his earlobe. "I'm going to drain you dry, Pete. Just going to bite and suckle and milk until you've got nothing left. Would you like that?"

His hand snaked under her tank top and took hold of one nipple, pinching the delicate ridge. She gasped and leaned into him, hands still filled with his balls. He ripped her tank top down and went to work on her breasts, twisting each nipple and spreading kisses along her collarbone and cleavage. Her hips lifted into the air. Her grip on him tightened.

"Peter." She wanted to kiss him. "Oh, suck my titties, Peter."

"Squeeze my balls," he rasped in return.

She hung onto his scrotum for dear life as his mouth took hold of her nipple. He ran his teeth and tongue along each one, only grunting mildly as she squeezed.

"They're tougher now too," she said as she delivered the same rhythmic mashing that Lothario had earlier endured. "Oh I love that."

They continued to buck and grind, Peter suckling every inch of her breasts and trailing lower until she pushed his head off. She rearranged their limbs and eventually got herself facing his lap, the purple crown of his dick poised at her lips with quaking expectation. She flicked her tongue along the delicate ridge and was gratified by the shiver it sent through his hips. One hand massaged his incredible length while the other slapped his balls.

"Gotta give them a good shake," she said. "Otherwise all the protein sinks to the bottom."

"That doesn't make any sense."

His objections were immediately stifled as she swallowed the head. She moaned on the warm mouthful of bucking flesh and swirled her tongue around and around. No tricks and no teasing this time. She wanted him to cum. Her suction increased and her hands locked together, tugging as much of him as possible. She bobbed at a frenzied pace, occasionally delivering slaps to his heavy testicles. His fingers ran through her hair. He lightly fucked her mouth on each downstroke.

"Erin," he breathed.

"Mmhmm?"

"Erin, I'm going to cum."

"Mmmhmm."

"Oh, Erin. Oh, Erin!"

She felt him cross the threshold—balls tightening, shaft flexing against her tongue and cheeks. She delivered a last hearty slap and corkscrewed her hands and mouth together over and over until he shouted in ecstasy. The first shot leapt down her throat and she had to pull back to keep from choking on subsequent shots.

He filled her mouth with hot semen and just kept pumping out more as his whole body shuddered. She moaned greedily. He made guttural, overwhelmed sounds as she continued to work him long after he'd finished cumming.

"Erin. Erin, please."

She ignored him, slurped up the mess, and continued to ply his cock for more.

"Baby, it's too much. Please, Erin—"

"I love it when you call me baby," she said and bit the very tip before engulfing him once more.

His second orgasm was waterier, more like urine than cum. He gasped even louder, practically screaming, and convulsed wildly as he unleashed. There was just too much and she pumped it out with her hand, allowing it coat the dashboard in arching streams while she tongued his balls.

Peter was completely spent. He lay crumpled up in the passenger seat as she gave his cock a last, affectionate pull before relinquishing it.

Erin wiped her lips and buckled her seatbelt. "Let's get the hell out of here, stud. I've got movies to show you."

Her phone buzzed with a new text message from Melanie.

"I'll just go ahead and tell you that Peter's all healed up," it read. "He's not answering his phone, though. Hasn't been home today."

Erin smirked and texted back, "Way ahead of you."