Bag Boys

My buddies and I work at a small metal fabricating plant, Berkley Ball Bearings, Inc. The job can get dull, so sometimes we like to liven things up with a little physical exercise. You could describe what we do as a form of wrestling. It sort of resembles arm wrestling, except that arms don’t get the workout—balls do.

Although we don’t give points for quickness, we do have fun practicing the art of timing and surprise, such as choosing the right moment to give an unsus­pecting guy a good poke in the nuts. We do that a lot on the job. But serious bagging takes more time, and a place that provides a bit of privacy. Luckily the shop has several storage rooms away from most of the activity—cramped areas, but perfect for cornering a guy and finding out what will make him sub­mit.

To get to our favorite place, part of the shipping department, you have to leave the main plant and enter a separate building only a few feet away. After midnight, my shift, it stands deserted, unless one or more of us takes a guy there to bag him. I learned firsthand about the place soon after getting my job at Berk’s. On my third night at work, a guy named Mike took me there to pick up some containers. Or so he said. Another guy appeared, a tall, muscu­lar dude who introduced himself as “Stretch.” As I turned to speak to Mike, Stretch grabbed my arms and hammerlocked them behind me.

“What’s the deal?” I asked.

“No deal,” replied Mike. “We just wanna get to know you, to see if you fit in with the other guys.”

“Fit in?”

He looked at my crotch. “To see if you’ve got the balls to work here. There’s only one way to do that, man!” He seized my nuts with his left hand and squeezed.

“Ah!” I yelled. “That hurts!”

Mike ignored me and continued to squeeze.

“What’s he got?” asked Stretch.

“Just what you like—stiff ones. Check him out.”

He took his hand away, but my balls didn’t get much of a time-out. Stretch released his double hammerlock, coiled his arms around my waist and captured a testicle in each hand.

“Welcome to the Company, Ken,” chuckled Mike as his buddy began to squeeze. “The guys call it ‘Berk’s Balls’ for short, or better yet, ‘Butch Balls!’” He paused to admire Stretch’s hold. “Yeah, bag those bearings, man!”

My yelling seemed to encourage Stretch, so I gradually quieted down.

“I think you tamed him, buddy!” said Mike.

Stretch loosened his grip somewhat, but started to give each genital shorter squeezes—potent ones, but also kind of playful. Unfortunately, this caused my dick to harden. I tried to distract them with a mild threat. “What if the boss finds out about this?”

“Mike IS the boss,” replied Stretch. “Well, the boss’s son—same thing. That means you’re fucked, guy!” He squeezed harder.

Mike noticed the growing bulge in my tight Levi’s. “Hey Stretch, his cock wants to play with us!” He opened the jeans and stared at my erect rod, half of which already stood above the brief’s waistband. “Whoa! Keep baggin’ him!”

Stretch took advantage of my open jeans. He put his hands inside and securely around each brief-covered ball. “Yeah,” he said, “that’s better.” He squeezed again. Mike pulled the jeans below my crotch so he could observe Stretch’s fingers having their way with my nuts. He also studied my cockhead closely. He grinned when some pre-cum pushed to the surface, then rolled down onto my brief.

“He’s ready for it, man. Make him give!” urged Mike.

The fingers began to pull my nutsack downward. They forced my balls lower and lower, going way beyond anything I’d experienced when wrestling guys in the past. I cringed as the pressure reached scary proportions.

“Now you know why we call him ‘Stretch!’” laughed Mike.

As the musclehunk pulled my balls down, the brief slid down as well, ex­posing more and more of my excited rod. I yelled to him to stop, but it did no good. I grabbed his legs, bracing myself for the agony to come.

“Yeah, stretch that bag,” said Mike.

Pulling on my sack like a slingshot, the hunk showed no sign of stopping. I expected indescribable pain to rip through my balls at any second. But in­stead of pain, an awesome rush of pleasure suddenly filled the nuts. My now fully exposed cock turned to steel. The lower Stretch pulled, the greater my pleasure became. I couldn’t hide how I felt: my groans revealed everything.

“Go ahead, finish him!” said Mike.

Stretch continued until the pleasure became to intense to handle. “I’m gonna cum!” I gasped. Pleasure tore through my tool and burst out in huge gobs. I’ll never forget that orgasm. Stretch kept pulling and I kept shooting.

Mike enjoyed every minute of it. “Nice work, man,” he said to his buddy afterward. “Next time it’s my turn.”

Even though Mike changed to a first shift job, he did get his turn with me—lots of turns, either at his house or mine. I soon realized that along with his incredible love of balls, especially big ones, he possessed an incredible arsenal of holds to use on them. Many guys at Berk’s knew about his ball-wrestling skills, mostly from personal encounters with him. I found that every­one had a story to tell about Mike’s holds, or his legendary, tough balls. No one who bagged him could get him to submit. We called him “the champ” for good reason. He liked the status and never avoided a challenge.

One particular challenge that I’ll always remember involved an obnoxious young bodybuilder. He didn’t believe the stories and often referred to Mike as “the chimp” instead of “the champ.” During a heated conversation, he dared Mike to take a bagging with an open fly. Mike unzipped his Levi’s, took a wide stance, and let the guy put his hand inside. The punk made sure he had the grip he wanted, then on signal, started squeezing. He pushed Mike against a wall, pinning him there while he clawed the hell out of his ballsack. We saw the pain on Mike’s face, yet he didn’t submit. Mike finally drove an open hand into his opponent’s crotch and, even though bagging the hunk through tight, heavy denim, Mike forced him to give in just a few seconds.

To celebrate the victory, Mike opened the punk’s Levi’s and started to pull them down. The bodybuilder fought back by putting a choke hold on Mike’s wind­pipe. But he tripped on his jeans as the Champ stripped them down below his knees. Both guys fell to the floor. Mike pried the choke hand from his throat and surprised the hunk with a strong gut punch. The blow sent the bikini-clad bodybuilder onto his back.

Mike capitalized on the opportunity and took hold of his prominent pouch. It took only one squeeze to make the hunk lie still. Warning him not to move an inch, Mike showed us, though not at full force, how to apply some of his favorite holds to jock-encased balls. During the “demo” we had a great bonus: the bodybuilder’s dick got so hard that it pushed the brief up and off his gut, giving us a super view inside. After that incident, the guy treated Mike with respect. The two eventually became buddies, even “sperm buddies,” if you believe Mike’s later accounts of their fun at his place.

Despite the bodybuilder’s good looks, a different guy soon grabbed our attention. A new employee just out of high school, the slender kid sported close-cropped hair and the beginnings of a beard. He liked to wear Levi’s “our” way—in other words, super tight. Although none of us had ever seen the kid naked, the crotch-gripping Levi’s told us more about his dick and balls than he may have thought. The kid possessed gonads of the first magnitude. His dick bulged out real good, but most of us spent more time staring at the moun­tainous bulges below it. In fact, somebody started calling him “mountain boy” right away. We also liked the view from behind: the denim hugged curv­ing buns that would win any contest. Even better, it wedged between them with­out shame, disappearing deep in his asscrack. We speculated about what he wore underneath. A jockstrap? A thong? Nothing? I wanted to be the first to find out.

One night I got Eric to help me carry some equipment to the shipping dock. I made sure he had a lot in his arms when we walked over to the other building. Dimly lit, the room had almost no empty shelving or places to park the stuff I gave him. So he had to hold to it until I gave him instructions. Once inside, I told the guy I wanted to check his gear. I reached under his armload of metal parts, found his fly, and opened it.

“Hey! What are ya doin’!” objected Eric.

“Like I said, checking your gear!” I replied. By now I had the Levi’s pulled down almost to his knees. “Cool—a thong.” I gave his dick and huge balls a quick feel.

“Fuck off!” shouted the kid, finally throwing his load of useless junk to the floor.

He tried to pull up the Levi’s, but before he could, I thrust my hand into his crotch and took hold of his ballsack—or as much of it as possible.

“Freeze!” I demanded. The stud stopped in his tracks, not knowing what I intended to do next. Prodding the balls with my hand, I backed him against a wall. I ordered him to press his palms to the wall and keep them there. “Nice bag.” I examined the massive balls more carefully. “How do you keep these whoppers inside your thong, man?”

“None of your business. Let go of ‘em!”

“Not so fast, dude.” I took hold of his ballsack with both hands, then adjusted my fingers around each thinly-covered gonad to get a good grip.

“No!” said Eric, controlling his voice to prevent drawing someone’s atten­tion.

The balls felt exceptionally hard, as if turned on by the presence of my hands. “Now I’m gonna show ya what sport the guys at Berk’s are into!” I put a sudden, though not extreme, squeeze on the big gonads.

“Shit!” whispered the kid.

I squeezed harder. Eric flinched a little and looked down at his captured balls. But he didn’t cry out in pain—he seemed to handle it O.K. So I upped the pressure—a lot.

“Ah!” he groaned. The kid grabbed my arms. He didn’t try to pull them from his nuts, but hung on tightly as if for support.

“Yeah,” I said. The balls became harder. So did the stud’s cock. I watched it enlarge under the white thong while I squeezed. In a short time the rod had lengthened to the top of the thong, which surrounded it almost like a condom. The sight inspired me to bag the guy with even more muscle.

Eric gripped my arms. He gasped as I tried to make his giant gonads submit. The stud took it longer than any guy I’d ever bagged. Finally, however, he’d had enough. I let go of the balls, but immediately slipped my hands under the thong’s sides and grasped his erect rod. I interlocked my fingers behind the tool and pressed my thumbs into the front of it.

I began to give the rod targeted squeezes and rubs, searching for a spot that would trigger some good spasms. I soon found one, just below the head. The cock really jumped when I squeezed it.

“Damn!” whispered Eric. “Not here!”

“It’s O.K.,” I reassured him, “no one can see.”

I worked on the sensitive spot, squeezing and massaging, until I had the kid paralyzed by pleasure. A spurt of pre-cum shot into the thong. The kid saw it and attempted to wrestle my hands away. But that only heightened the pleasure in his tool. He quickly released his grip. Knowing that he had no further defense, Eric put his hands on my shoulders in defeat. We watched another shot of pre-cum moisten the thong.

“Yeah, let it come,” I said. The cock pounded in my hand, bucking like a wild stallion. My squeezes would soon give me what I wanted. The kid pressed his fingers into my shoulders. Suddenly Eric’s volcano erupted inside the thong.

“Pump it, man!” I whispered.

The first few bursts of cum shot right through the thong. The rest piled up within it. The kid’s massive balls produced a sea of sperm. When the waves ceased at last, they left the thong soaked and dripping. I stood there holding the rod for a long time, not willing to let go. I wondered what Mike would think of this guy, and what he would do if he got his hands on him. I resolved to bring the three of us together so I could find out.

Because Mike worked a different shift than Eric and I, it took a while to find a night that all of us had free. I used caution when I approached Eric about getting together: he seemed embarrassed, and sort of annoyed, that he’d spilled his juice. He wouldn’t talk to me about it or talk about hardly any­thing after the incident. So I told him that the boss’s son had planned a party for some of the employees and that Mike wanted to meet him. I hoped this kind of explanation would encourage him to attend. He balked, but eventually agreed to go.

“Mike’s very informal,” I said, “so remember to dress casual.” I didn’t tell him, of course, that Mike wanted to bag him as well as meet him, and that Mike had invited only Stretch, Eric and I.

Eric arrived wearing skin tight Levi’s—blue, but considerably faded. You could barely read the words on his equally faded tee shirt: “Mountain Park Mustangs.” Blond-haired Stretch looked great in a white muscle tee and white Levi cutoffs. He glanced frequently at Eric’s bulging jeans, as he did at work, no doubt anxious to finally see what the kid had under them. Predictably, Mike stared even more, instantly aroused by Eric’s athletic body and the immense bulges in his crotch.

“I guess the other guys aren’t gonna show up,” said Mike, pretending to appear disappointed. “Looks like the four of us will have the beer to our­selves!”

After drinking a few, Eric loosened up a little. He began to describe funny events from his just-ended Senior year. He also mentioned he’d participated in the school’s wrestling program. An avid wrestling fan—particularly submission wrestling—Mike focused on the kid intently. He asked a lot of questions about Eric’s job as a coach’s assistant: “Did you get to teach holds to the younger guys? What did the team uniforms look like? What’s your favorite hold? Do you like makin’ a guy give?” I knew Mike hungered to get it on with the stud.

“Did you win any trophies?” asked Mike.

“Yeah, a couple.”

“You must be good. Think you can make me submit?”

“Hey, I don’t wanna hurt ya, man.”

“Mike’s tough,” interjected Stretch. “Try him out.”

We pushed the furniture aside. Without much space, the two guys had to face each other on their knees. At the count of three, Eric grabbed Mike’s leg and jerked it out from under him. My buddy landed on his back and immediately flipped over to avoid a pin. But Eric, never having let go of the leg, wrenched it backward as he swung around to straddle Mike. Then he lowered a knee to his victim’s spine and pushed into it. “Give?”

“Hell no!” replied Mike.

The kid pulled back on the leg, showing us a very tight half-crab, and a sexy view of Mike’s Levi-clenched groin. “Now?” repeated Eric, forcing the leg back even further.

“Ah!” winced Mike.

“Nice crotch, man. Does it hurt when he does that?” taunted Stretch.

“I’ll hurt yours, fucker!” threatened Mike.

Stretch squatted close to Mike’s head, spread his thighs far apart, and brought his open crotch within an inch of Mike’s face. “Here it is, dude. Go ahead!

Mike started swearing. Stretch pushed his crotch against Mike’s mouth, causing the crabbed hunk to muffle his words.

“Doesn’t hurt at all,” kidded Stretch. “In fact, it feels damn good!” he said, continuing to rub his crotch across my buddy’s face.

Eric gave the leg another big pullback. Mike shrieked in pain, but refused to give.

“Bag him, Ken,” said Stretch, nudging Mike with his balls.

“Good idea,” I replied. While Eric looked on, I slowly reached a hand down to Mike’s protruding sack and enclosed it within my fingers. “Tight fit, man,” I said. “I bet these Levi’s really pinch your balls good.” Eric didn’t take his eyes off my hand as I started to squeeze my buddy’s gonads.

“Ah!” shouted Mike.

“Ask him now,” I said to Eric.

“You better submit, man,” advised the kid, sounding a little sorry for the ball-gripped, crab-wracked hunk.

“O.K! O.K!” yelled Mike.

Eric let the hunk sink to the floor. But I didn’t release my hold. Putting the squeeze on the Champ’s balls simply felt too good to resist. Eric sat down on Mike’s back, facing me. My hand, buried between Mike’s legs, remained out of sight to him, but he watched my arm closely as I squeezed.

“Give again!” I demanded, crushing the super-tough nuts with everything I had.

Mike pounded the floor and shouted in pain—or in pleasure: with Mike you never knew for sure. Even though the Levi’s protected his balls somewhat from my attack, they didn’t save him. I persisted, grinding away at the gonads un­til he finally yelled out a submission. I pulled my hand out of his crotch, and the three of us moved alongside him. Mike slowly rolled onto his back.

“You guys got me good,” he said. He propped himself up, placing both hands on the floor behind him. “Time out.”

“Time out? You want more?” asked Eric in surprise.

“Sure. You’re up for it—you’re a Mustang, right?” countered Mike.

“Yeah,” grinned Eric, glancing down at his own tee shirt.

“Looks like you’re hung like a mustang, too,” said my buddy.

The compliment caught Eric by surprise, but he did manage another grin.

“I wanna find out how tough Mustangs are,” said Mike. He turned toward Eric and seized his balls before the stud knew what had happened. Mike grabbed with both hands—one around each gonad. The kid tried to stand, but only got as far as his knees. Not daring to press his luck, he stayed put, his thighs forced apart by the presence of two hands in his crotch.

“You bastard!” exclaimed Eric, clasping Mike’s wrists.

“This is called baggin’, kid! Get used to it!” stated Mike, squeezing into the huge testicles.

“For sure, dude,” I said to Eric. “Mike’s gonna have fun with your horse nuts!”

The kid tried to pull the Champ’s hands off his balls. Stretch and I got on our knees, Stretch to the right and me to the left of Eric. We pried his hands from Mike’s wrists and each of us hammerlocked an arm behind the kid. Without the use of his arms, Eric could do nothing now except watch—and feel—his balls get the squeeze of a lifetime.

“Yeah, take it, boy!” said Mike. He kept squeezing with both hands, intoxi­cated by the size and heaviness of the kid’s gonads. Eric struggled and groaned, but didn’t yet out a submission.

“He likes it!” I said to Mike.

The kid couldn’t hide the evidence: his rod had produced an impressive bulge in the Levi’s. Mike leaned into his squeeze, eager to give the stud a much longer ride than planned.

“Hey, I want a piece of him, too,” said Stretch to Mike impatiently. “You promised.”

“I’ll let you know when you get your turn!” said Mike, focusing his strength on Eric’s mammoth balls. I could see the desire escalate in Stretch’s eyes as he watched Mike squeeze. Nothing turned him on more than to bag a sexy guy who strutted around in skin-tight Levi’s, and he didn’t want Mike to ruin the kid before he could sink his claws into this awesomely-hung specimen.

“O.K., you’ve had your fun,” persisted Stretch. He put a hand on Mike’s arm to reinforce his intentions.

Mike glared at him angrily. “Not quite,” he replied.

Mike released Eric’s balls and opened Stretch’s cutoffs with lightning speed. By the time Stretch said, “What the fuck,” Mike had peeled the cutoffs to the floor, revealing his jockstrapped balls and cock. Eric’s mouth dropped opened when he saw the blonde’s tool. Among the guys at Berk’s, Stretch possessed the largest rod by far. We always admired the ten-incher, and considered it one of the “fringe benefits” of our employment there! Standing straight up, more than half of it rose above the the jock. The gonad-filled pouch, well packed and jutting forward, made an equally impressive sight.

“Hold him,” Mike instructed me.

As Stretch reached toward his nuts to shield them from a possible attack, I slipped my arms under his from behind and immobilized him with a serious full nelson.

“Shit!” exclaimed Stretch.

Eric, now able to back away from Mike, or even leave if he wanted to, held his position and stared at Stretch’s jock-encased balls.

“Do ya like boxing?” Mike asked the kid.

“Sometimes.”

“Me, too, when I can work out with the right kind of guy, or with the right kind of punching bag.”

Stretch suddenly looked worried, dreading what Mike had in mind. “God no, man!”

Mike fondled Stretch’s ball pouch. “I think this bag will do just fine.” He let go of the pouch, then drove his fist into it.

“Ah!” yelled Stretch.

Mike socked the nuts again. And again.

“Yeah. You like this, don’t ya,” said Mike, pausing to enjoy the guy’s suffering.

I’d seen Stretch withstand Mike’s ball punching in the past, so I knew he could take the blows in stride—up to a point. This time Mike wanted to reach that point and go beyond it. He took careful aim and fisted the nuts several more times.

“You’re never gonna interrupt me again, right?” Mike asked Stretch.

“No! No, never again!”

“Or what’s gonna happen to your balls, man?”

“You’re gonna smash ‘em.”

“Yeah. I will, dude. Like this…..” Mike held his fist beneath the guy’s nuts, knuckles up, and slammed it into the bottom of the pouch.

That one really got Stretch. His loud, sexy cries sent spasms of pleasure through my Levi-covered cock. I humped his asscrack as I nelsoned him. Eric gazed at Stretch’s cock and began to rub his own jean-bulge.

“I bet you wanna see the whole thing,” Mike said to Eric.

The kid grinned slightly. Mike pulled the jockstrap to the floor. Stretch’s tool continued to stand fully upright without the jockstrap’s help. Mike wrapped the fingers of one hand around it. “It’s my favorite cock,” he said, slowly pulling up and down on the long sex muscle as if caressing it. Stretch groaned in pleasure.

Eric, overcome by desire, unbuttoned his Levi’s and peeled them to the floor along with his thong. Seeing the kid’s exposed balls and cock for the first time, Mike abruptly halted his jackoff of Stretch, although maintaining a grip.

“Whoa!” said Mike. “A true mustang, man!” His eyes roamed over Eric’s massive, curving nutsack for a long time. The testicles hung between his strong thighs like golf balls—hairless, hard and ready for anything. Mike wanted to bag the naked giants immediately, but he restrained himself and scrutinized the kid’s cock. It stood erect, like Stretch’s. The rod twitched as if beckoning to Mike.

“Nice one, kid,” said the Champ.

Eric moved closer, offering it to him. Mike felt the tool from top to bottom. After the inspection, he coiled his fingers around it. Now with each hand around a naked cock, Mike treated both guys to an unhurried jackoff. His arms rose and fell as though working out on an exercise machine. Feeling the pleasure build, the guys began to groan, especially Stretch. Mike soon had the blond hunk aroused to the peak of excitement. He stopped jacking the rods and turned to Eric. “Watch this, kid.”

He started to pull Stretch’s cock gradually toward him. Eric could see the long rod resist, trying to return to its straight-up position. But Mike applied increasing pressure. He soon had the cock aiming at his navel.

“Ah!” yelled Stretch. “No farther, man!”

Mike continued the pressure. Still constrained in the nelson, Stretch saw his rod losing ground inch by inch to the downward pull. Despite Stretch’s pleas for him to stop, Mike cranked the big tool lower, until he finally had its head pointed directly at the floor. Stretch shouted loud submissions, hoping that Mike would free the big pole, but my buddy kept the cock firmly in place between the hunk’s legs. The Champ grinned at Stretch’s agony, then squeezed, making his victim yell louder.

Mike gave Eric’s balls another visual check. They had swollen even larger. He started to jack the kid’s cock again. Eric’s gaze remained on Stretch’s tortured, out-wrestled rod. To show the kid what he could do, Mike turned once more to the blond and jerked down powerfully on the hunk’s rod. Stretch screamed, yet I heard within it for the first time the sound of pleasure—tre­mendous pleasure. Mike repeated the killing jerk. Stretch cried out, stunned by pleasure. I tightened my nelson.

“Yeah,” said Mike, apparently feeling a change within the rod. He yanked once more, this time keeping the downward pressure on at maximum strength.

“Ah! Shit!” yelled Stretch.

A few seconds later, his cock exploded. Eric watched the hunk’s thick, white cum blast the floor as Mike held it down. I forced Stretch’s chin against his chest with the nelson, brutalizing him as his cock went out of control.

“God!” exclaimed Eric, gaping at the squirting rod. He grasped his big balls and groaned throughout the long orgasm. By the time Stretch had discharged the last of his whipped cream, Eric’s cock twitched in nervous excitement.

Mike, always eager to torture a guy after he submitted, gave Stretch’s in­flamed rod some pulls and squeezes that finished the job in style. When we let go of the hunk, he fell to the floor screaming and clutching his cock.

“Awesome,” I said, watching Stretch writhe in an overabundance of pleasure.

I heard Mike whisper something in Eric’s ear. Suddenly, both of them charged into me. My shoulders hit the floor, and Eric crawled onto my legs. As I lifted my upper body, Mike caught me in a sleeper from behind. His python-­like arms coiled around my neck with authority. I knew I had just a few moments to escape from the hold before it claimed it me, so I used all my strength to pull the python away. Soon, however, I could feel my arms weaken­ing.

“I’ve got ya, man,” said Mike.

Unable to speak, I tapped his arms anxiously to announce my submission. He only seemed to squeeze harder. I clawed at him feebly, helplessly. My arms finally went limp. I saw Eric’s huge balls in front of me, then nothing…..

I awoke on my back, naked. Mike and Eric sat on top of me, each facing my crotch.

“Yeah…a little more and you’ll get him again,” said Mike.

Again? Had Eric juiced me? I sensed wetness on my gut, but I didn’t have time to think about it: an extraordinary pleasure in my cock distracted me. “What are ya doin’ to it?” I groaned. The pleasure seemed to play with my tool. At one moment it preyed on my cockhead. At another it burrowed into the base of the rod. The pleasure became stronger, soon challenging my endurance. I grabbed Eric’s sides, grunting in desperation. I could feel my balls swell with juice.

“You got him,” said Mike to Eric.

The pleasure turned my grunts into screams. A few seconds later, my cock let loose. The juice both punished and titillated the inside of my rod as it shot up. I dug my fingers into Eric and screamed like a madman.

“Keep squeezin’,” said Mike.

The kid continued to work on my squirting rod, forcing out every last drop out of it.

The guys at last got up and threw me a towel. I stared at the chestful of cum that covered me.

“It’s not all yours, man,” said Mike. “Eric shot off when you did.”

I looked up at the kid. “How many times did you juice me?”

“Twice, thanks to Mike.”

“I coached him a little, but he’s a natural. Your cum ain’t safe around him!” smiled Mike. “Isn’t that right, buddy?” He put an arm around the kid’s shoulder.

Eric grinned, enjoying the attention from Mike. He got more. Mike began to tease him with playful headlocks. Shortly, however, the playfulness disap­peared. He pulled Eric to the floor with a headlock, forced the young stud on­to his belly, and stretched out on top of him. Mike pushed his cockhead be­tween the beautiful buns. Eric tried to wiggle out of the hold, but Mike wrapped his arms around Eric’s waist and teased the hole with his cockhead.

“Ah! No!” objected the kid.

“Wanna get fucked, boy?”

“No!”

“Then don’t move an inch!”

The kid complied. Mike unwrapped his arms and took hold of the massive gonads, one in each hand. “Shit!” he said, exploring the naked nuts for the first time. Mike put all kinds of short, test squeezes on the balls. Eric’s cock responded with lots of twitching. After several minutes, this “practice session” ended and Mike suddenly pressed all ten fingers into the ballflesh with brutal power. The kid yelled in terror.

I recognized the hold. One of Mike’s favorites, it had a purpose beyond simply bagging a guy. Since it looked and felt like an ordinary ball squeeze, the victim usually believed he could withstand the hold and thus demonstrate his toughness. But instead, he ended up demonstrating how much cum he could shoot! Even though the hold took time, and the right combination of squeezing and pulling, a guy had little defense against it.

Eric gasped and looked down at the fearsome grip on his balls.

“Yeah, take it, man,” I said to him.

After a while, he began to groan as pleasure surpassed pain. I saw some cum ooze from his cockhole. It clung to the tip, growing larger and larger. Finally it dropped onto the floor beside me. More cum formed on the tip.

“Oh god!” groaned Eric, gradually succumbing to the pleasure.

“Yeah, give in to it,” I said.

Another heavy drop of cum fell from the cock. The kid continued to gasp, tortured by a pleasure that grew at slowly but surely. He stared at his imprisoned gonads, amazed that they could survive this kind of hold for so many minutes—and give him so many terrific sensations.

“How do they feel?” teased Mike.

“Fuck! Do it! Do it!” pleaded Eric, yearning for a climax.

His cock began to leap as if trying to trigger an orgasm on its own. But still it didn’t come. I watched Mike’s ball-embedded fingers continue to do their work. More cum plopped to the floor. I’d never seen my buddy apply this hold with such strength. Yet, Eric’s pleasure kept building. His cock confirmed the pleasure. Loaded with cum and ready to fire, the cock finally did fire—but only a single squirt. The kid gasped and again begged me to finish him off. But I let him suffer, for the real torment of the hold, as Eric now knew, consisted not of pain, but of unre­lenting, unbearable pleasure.

The sperm-packed balls tightened around Mike’s fingers.

“Shoot us more of it,” I said to the tortured kid.

Eric tried to hold it back, but soon his cock spit another gob of cum. He slammed a hand against the floor in defeat.

“You’ve really got him going, man,” I reported to Mike.

As the minutes rolled on, the stud’s twitching tool kept ejecting juice sporadically, never quite reaching all the way to orgasm. I described every spurt to my buddy, whose chin now rested comfortably on the kid’s back. Yet he probably didn’t need my updates. Although he couldn’t see the mammoth balls he controlled, Mike gained valuable information about them through his fingers. Plunged outrageously far into the gonads, the finger-spikes constituted the ul­timate submission hold, yet they could also detect levels of pleasure. The longer he had the guy’s nuts radically bagged like this, the more they revealed to him.

In Eric’s case, the testicles seemed to express volumes. Mike grinned occasionally, aware of some sexy condition or reaction taking place deep inside them. The kid’s balls had become his betrayers. I used his cock as my barometer, of course. In addition to twitching frequently, it rose higher along with the kid’s pleasure. Only his gut stopped its rise. The muscle held itself there, looking like it could explode at any second. Eric stared at his sex pole, no doubt mentally commanding it to fire. The rod continued to press against his gut in excitement, yet did not let loose. The stud’s body glistened with sweat. He groaned, straining to outlast the agonizing pleasure.

“Yeah, stiffer” said Mike, sensing a change within the balls. I guessed that they had hardened considerably. They appeared to have grown larger as well.

“Yeah, load ‘em up,” said Mike.

Eric’s sack started to bulge out between the squeezing spikes. The pleasure-consumed kid slapped the floor with both hands. He begged me again to go after his cock. “One squeeze, that’s all I’m askin’ for! Or a punch! Give it your fist, man!”

The idea of shoving my fist into his frantic tool tempted me greatly. I wanted to see it explode after taking a single hit. But I didn’t have to wait much longer. Even as he spoke, the kid’s words began to weaken, to drown in a sea of pleasure. He lowered his head once more to check out the spiked nuts. Eric’s deep groans became one continuous cry of submission. I’ve never heard anything so sexy. Mike grunted in total arousal while his fingers, stuck in the big balls for so long, finally conquered the kid.

I could almost see the gonads flex as they forced Eric’s juice into his cum tube. An instant later, it gushed from the cockhead. I watched the liquid shoot out in eight or nine big spurts. Mike released the balls at last and crawled to the kid’s other side to see how much cum his hold had produced.

“Nice shootin’, kid,” said Mike, putting a hand on the out-of-breath stud.

Eric managed a smile and collapsed on his back to rest. His cock jerked upward every few seconds, still remembering the awesome climax. I couldn’t resist taking hold of it. The kid yelled, feeling a new wave of pleasure. When I put some serious squeezes on the sensitive head, he shrieked and grabbed for my hand. But Mike caught both arms before they reached it. He straddled the kid and planted his butt on the guy’s upper chest, toward me. Holding Eric’s arms motionless, Mike watched me try to force the cock into another orgasm. The stud bucked like a wild stallion as I squeezed and rubbed his rod’s pleasure center.

“Shoot it and I’ll let go!” I yelled over his shrieks.

My assault on the cock immediately made Mike’s tool jump upright. Not able to endure such an acute combination of pleasure and pain, Eric bolted high enough to throw Mike off him and break my hold on his rod. Sitting on his knees with arms held at his sides in a defensive position, the kid glanced down to see the condition of his twitching cock. “You guys play rough,” he grinned.

“Looks like your dick wants more,” I said, gesturing to his still erect muscle. “Whaddya think, Mike?”

“I think his nuts are holdin’ out on us. Look at those heavy brutes, man! I bet there’s lots of water left in the reservoir! He paused, then added, “Maybe I should check to make sure!”

Mike moved a hand toward the balls. Eric backed away apprehensively, keep­ing his big gonads just out of striking range. Mike stopped to try a different approach.

“Hey kid, how about if we wrestle for ‘em. You make me give and your nuts hang free; I make you give and I bag ‘em til they’re empty.”

“They’re already empty, dude!” the kid replied.

Mike looked at me and said, “Hey, could our muscleboy be turning into a chicken?”

“O.K., O.K.,” agreed Eric grudgingly. “But if I win, I fuck your ass.”

Mike smiled. “Deal.”

The naked guys stalked each other on their knees, looking for an effective opening maneuver. Their erect dicks swung when their bodies moved, tantalizing me with every motion. Mike’s stuck out horizontally, pointing toward Eric, while the kid’s stayed upright.

“You’re a lucky guy, Ken,” Mike said to me. “You get to witness the baggin’ of the century!” He taunted Eric with some strikes at the huge ballsack. De­liberately calculated to miss the target, the jabs nevertheless kept his opponent on guard.

But the kid had his own strategy. He took a swipe at Mike’s outstretched rod and connected with a slap. When my buddy looked down at it, Eric caught him in a front headlock. The kid forced Mike onto his belly, then whirled around to apply the hold from the side. Confident that he had the headlock securely in place, Eric spread his legs and enjoyed the feeling of domination. He pulled my buddy’s head backward for several seconds in a camel clutch-like position. The painful embellishment made Mike yell. The kid did it again.

“Give?” asked Eric.

“Fuck you!”

The kid pulled back once more, wrenching the head still further and holding it there longer. As Mike yelled in pain, Eric’s cock did some noticeable twitching.

“No!” shouted Mike.

Eric normalized the headlock, but soon applied another backward wrench. Mike cried out, yet refused to give.

“I’m gonna keep doin’ this til you submit, man, so save yourself the agony!”

Eric decided to raise the stakes. He swung around, straddled my buddy’s back, and went for a full camel clutch. Mike hated this hold—at least, hated becoming its victim. He struggled to get away before the kid had him hopelessly trapped. His efforts failed. Eric interlaced his fingers around Mike’s chin and pulled back hard.

“Ah!” gasped Mike.

The kid pressed his stiff tool against my buddy’s spine. “Ready to get fucked?” He pulled harder, arching the body severely. Mike’s scream could only emerge as a kind of desperate whisper. To threaten even more, Eric removed one hand from the chin and brought it back to Mike’s ass. He stuck out his middle finger and worked it into the butthole. My buddy yelled again.

“Yeah!” gloated the kid. “My cock’s gonna like this ass!”

The comment, plus the inserted finger, seemed to ignite the Champ. He started to raise his butt off the floor. Eric retaliated by forcing it back down with his fuck finger.

“You’re finished, man!” said the stud.

Mike tried again, this time raising himself to his knees. He freed his arms and let his hands settle on the floor. The kid drove his finger as far as he could into my buddy’s ass to discourage an escape. Mike yelled, but remained on his hands and knees. Knowing that the guy had lifted himself high enough to slip out of the hold, Eric removed his finger and changed course. He knifed his legs into the Champ’s sides. Mike instantly cried out in pain. The kid knifed him twice more, then pulled his victim to the floor with the scissors. Mike slowly twisted his body in an attempt to free himself from the pressure. He finally succeeded, but the scissors still imprisoned him. Now lying on his back, Eric’s powerful thighs began to grind into his gut.

“Now you’ll give,” proclaimed the kid, squeezing to the max.

Mike cried out as the leg vice crushed into him. He pounded the upper thigh with his fist, then tried to pry it away from his gut. Nothing could weaken the vice.

“Say it!” advised Eric.

“No!”

The kid responded to my buddy’s stubbornness with a punishing squeeze that made Mike lift his shoulders off the floor in agony.

“Ah” he gasped, shocked at the strength in Eric’s legs. His shoulders fell back to the floor.

Impatient for a victory, the kid grabbed Mike’s nuts. Now certain that he could get a submission, Eric squeezed the tight ballsack. Mike groaned, yet only from the damaging effect of the stud’s scissors. Eric squeezed the balls in every possible way. Mike’s toughness both astonished and impressed him. Frustrated, he suddenly jerked the ballsack down. That move got to Mike. He gasped and clutched the stud’s thigh. Eric gave the sack another big yank toward the floor.

“Shit!” yelled Mike, obviously in trouble.

Up to now I didn’t think anyone could whip my buddy using his balls. But while he could survive long and nasty bagging squeezes, Mike apparently had a more difficult job with plain and simple ball jerks. The kid became better and better at executing the maneuver. For one thing, he discovered that he could intensify its impact by keeping the balls held down for several seconds after he yanked. He also found that one isolated, rough jerk made Mike yell louder than a series of them. As a result, Eric began to follow each with a renewed scissors attack on the gut.

This alternating strategy worked well. Mike’s cries grew more desperate. He clawed the kid’s thigh during every tortuous ball assault. But I started to question if only pain caused his reactions: Mike’s cock appeared to like what Eric did. A drop of pre-cum oozed from the rigid tool.

My buddy fought hard to escape. Using all his strength, he slowly turned himself, forcing the kid on his back. Additional scissor jabs stopped Mike temporarily, but he gradually pulled forward, bringing Eric’s legs with him. The scissors finally fell apart. My buddy gripped the stud by his ankles and jackknifed him.

“Thought you had me, didn’t you!” said Mike, grinning down at the pinned kid. “Now we’re gonna watch you suffer!” He began to pull Eric’s legs apart.

“Fuck no!” shouted the kid.

“Fuck yes, tough guy!” replied Mike. He continued wishboning the legs until he had them in an extreme split. Eric beat the floor with his hands. My buddy didn’t stop. Applying more pressure, he made the stud shriek as pain stabbed into his crotch.

“Give!”

“No!”

“You can’t take this, man. Nobody can.” My buddy spread him even further.

“Ah! No!” screamed the kid. He grabbed his thighs, but their bulging, overstretched muscles couldn’t help him now.

Mike maintained the crotch killing split, determined to make the guy submit. Eric slammed his hand to the floor again, screaming in pain.

“You can end it,” said Mike almost compassionately. “Just say the word.” The stud cried out again, unwilling to surrender. I watched his agony in disbelief. How could he tolerate such pain? In any case, observing the scene made me incredibly horny. Mike reacted the same way. Splitting well-hung guys wide open definitely churned up his juice. He put all of his body weight on the grievously separated legs.

Screaming frantically, Eric clawed the air with his hands. “I give! I give!”

Mike threw his head back in triumph. “Say it again!”

“I give! That’s enough, man!”

My buddy released the legs. Still writhing in pain, the kid grabbed his crotch. Mike stood alongside and watched Eric caress it. Then he reached down, flung the arms away and gazed at the stud’s aroused equipment. He took the rod in his hand and started to pleasure it with a very slow but firm jackoff. The kid grunted in relief, enjoying the unexpected reward.

Mike dropped to one knee and added more muscle to his cock-agitating pulls. The slowness of the pace deceived me. It kicked the tool into high gear with unusual speed. Eric grunted louder. He felt the pleasure steadily escalating, and his control over the cock slipping away.

“Yeah,” said Mike. My buddy grinned as he ensnared the rod in a pleasure too powerful to ignore. Staying on his present course, he could have wrestled the juice out of the stud in a matter of seconds. Yet I knew that something else remained his top priority: the giant balls. He looked at them lustily. “Time for me to claim my prize, kid.”

Eric interpreted the comment to mean that the victor wanted his cum as the prize. He lifted his butt off the floor, thrusting the cock up so my buddy could take his sperm. But instead of milking the guy, Mike let go and slammed an open hand into Eric’s bulbous ballsack.

The kid screamed as my buddy bagged it ravenously. Eric seized the bagging arm with both hands. Mike started to pull the sack upward. Eric pushed himself higher to lessen the pressure. My buddy kept pulling, forcing the stud into a bridge. Continuing to grip his prize, he stepped between Eric’s legs. The Champ resumed the pull, stretching the ballsack beyond comprehension.

“Like it, Ken?”

“Shit yes!” I answered, gawking in amazement.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when Mike did the unthinkable: he pulled until the kid’s feet left the floor. Eric screamed in terror.

“Oh yeah!” shouted my buddy, suspending the stud by his nuts.

The sight sent pleasure thrills up and down my cock. Leg-spread and hung by his balls, Eric didn’t dare move. To top it off, Mike began squeezing the whoppers as though wringing liquid out of a soaked sponge. The stud screamed in that low, sexy voice of his and spread his dangling legs as far as he could. Mike’s biceps bulged as he bagged the gonads with squeezes that many guys would feel for a week. Did Eric have submission-proof balls? Mike bagged them as though he did.

Eric’s cock started to do upward leaps. During one of them, it fired a stream of pre-cum onto the stud’s chest.

“Nice shot!” said Mike. “Now let’s have the rest of it!” He pulled the nuts higher. He and I watched the rod leap up again, freeze in breath-stopping pleasure, then explode in ecstasy.

“Shit!” exclaimed Mike, admiring the kids’ output of cum and also the beauty of it—thick in texture and brilliantly white. Mike looked awesome him­self. Standing between Eric’s thighs with his fingers buried in young ballflesh, he growled in pleasure as stream after stream of stud juice shot from the cock. But suddenly he seized the guy’s legs and flipped him over into a Boston crab. My buddy positioned his victim so that the still-spurting cock hung down directly in front of me. I grabbed it and milked the remaining juice out of the kid, drop by drop.

“Crab it,” said Mike.

Fearing what I might do to his shaft, Eric struggled to get out of Mike’s hold. The effort left him more exhausted than ever and still locked in the crab. I started to pull the tool toward me. The kid moaned as I bent the shaft in an unnatural direction. The muscle put up a good fight. I loved feel­ing it oppose me, then inevitably give in to the pressure I exerted on it.

“Fuck!” yelled Eric.

I continued my slow assault, gradually bending the shaft backward between the kid’s widely crabbed legs, and beyond.

“Yeah, all the way,” urged Mike.

I didn’t stop until I had the cock pressed against Eric’s asscrack. The kid cried out in shock.

“Keep it there til he shoots again,” said Mike.

“I can’t cum!” shouted Eric.

“Bet you can,” I said, squeezing the completely back-bent shaft.

“Ah!” yelled the kid. “You’re gonna wreck it!”

“Then you’d better start pumpin’ while you still can!” I said.

Desperate and frustrated, Eric spent the next several minutes trying to bring himself to a climax. But it didn’t happen. Eager to use another tactic, Mike released the legs and let the kid fall onto his belly. I disengaged my hold at the same time. When Eric began to push himself up, Mike dropped to his knees behind him, waited for the right moment, and swung a fist into the stud’s crotch.

Too stunned to do anything except cry out, Eric’s statue-like position on his hands and knees made him an easy mark for another unhurried blow to the balls. The kid’s rod leaped up. Mike pulled Eric’s legs further apart for better access to the nuts, then ordered him to keep his hands on the floor. This kind of prep signaled a session of ball punching. My buddy looked at the giant gonads hanging in front of him, took careful aim, and de­livered the third stud-taming blow.

Others followed, yet rarely in quick succession. Before attacking, Mike usually paused to determine the angle of each ballstrike and the amount of power he wanted to use. After the punch, he liked to keep his fist pressed in the sack for a few seconds to reinforce the blow.

Throughout the long session of punishment, Eric’s yells became increasingly erotic. Most lingered in the depths of his throat long after each strike. Mike loved hearing them.

“Louder, kid,” he often demanded. Then he’d shove his fist into the waiting nuts and revel in the response.

But getting Eric to cum again remained his primary goal. While Mike ball- punched, I watched the kid’s cock closely. One particularly sexy blow split the nuts apart like a wedge and forced a shot of pre-cum instantly out of the stiff rod. A follow-up punch brought the same result.

“Another score, man,” I reported.

Eric looked down at his crotch and groaned. Mike surveyed the virile, un­guarded balls for the best strike, then plowed his fist into them. The kid grunted as he saw his cock involuntarily discharge more semen.

“Yeah, punch it outa him!” I said.

The blows became harder, and most of them accomplished their objective. The sexy scene looked like an orgasm in ultra slow motion. Yet despite Mike’s persistence, the ballstrikes didn’t bring the desired climax.

Now impatient, my buddy grasped Eric’s left testicle—definitely big enough to satisfy a single hand—and bear hugged it. The kid cried out and grabbed for Mike’s hand. A bigger squeeze convinced him to resume his position on all fours. The hold looked wicked. Focusing his strength on one ball, Mike made Eric scream and pound the floor. The kid even moved his thighs into an extreme spread, hoping to appease his attacker. That didn’t work: it made Mike squeeze even harder. Mike finally let go of the ball, but immediately gripped the other one and applied the same grueling hold. The kid screamed again as Mike crushed the juice-filled giant.

“What’s wrong? This one more sensitive than the other?” taunted Mike. “I think it needs some discipline!” He pulled the ‘nad out from under Eric’s crotch.

I came in close for a good view of the hold. With his palm cupping the bottom of the testicle and his fingers surrounding it on all sides, Mike dug in. He pressed deep into the top of the sperm-maker with his fingertips. The kid kept yelling submissions, but Mike continued to squeeze.

“That’s not enough, man!” he said. “You know what I want!”

My buddy’s thoroughly aroused cock looked thicker and longer than usual. It stood straight up as he worked on the huge gonad. “Get the other one,” he said to me.

I didn’t need coaxing. I pulled the left testicle toward me, copied Mike’s grip and began applying pressure. Eric instantly shouted another submission. His head fell downward, and his arms weakened. The top of his head hit the floor, where he kept it as a prop for his upper body. From this upside down position, he could observe everything Mike and I did to his balls, and that surely heightened his anxiety.

“Who’s makin’ him scream the loudest?” I asked Mike with a grin.

“Let’s find out,” answered my buddy.

We took turns putting squeezes on the ‘nads. Shrieking wildly, the kid watched us use his balls for a submission contest.

“No!” he yelled as we tried to outdo each other’s bagging technique. Squeezing the stud’s huge, super-hard testicle soon became addictive, es­pecially since Mike and I had never bagged a guy together before. My buddy felt that way too, battling it out with me for a long time while Eric screamed. I finally had to admit that Mike’s squeezes produced the sexiest sounds from Eric.

“You win, man,” I conceded.

Mike celebrated by locking a hand around each ball and pulling down.

“Ah!” gasped the kid.

“What do I win, dude?”

“My balls!”

“Yeah,” said Mike, pulling the ballsack lower. “What else to I win?”

“Ah fuck—my cum!” gasped the sweating stud. “But it’s too soon!”

“Think so?” said my buddy. He worked his fingers deep into the low-slung giants, agitating Eric’s newly formed stockpile of sex cream. The kid cried out in loud, erotic grunts. “Yeah, feel that juice, man!” said Mike. “Your nuts are stiff with it.”

He became rougher, wrestling the ball-confined cum with pulls and squeezes that made Eric continue to yell and groan in pleasure. Mike had predicted cor­rectly: no bagging could surpass this one! In a sense, I hoped that the kid wouldn’t spill his juice. That way I could go on watching my buddy wrestle his balls all night.

Mike did give Eric a brief time-out, but just for the few seconds it took to flip the guy onto his back. Sitting between the kid’s legs, he grasped the gonads once more.

“You like this, don’t ya,” said Mike.

“Yeah, I do,” gasped Eric, feeling the fingers agitate his juice again.

Suddenly Mike attacked the crotch-split stud with the most fantastic squeeze I’ve ever witnessed. The ballsack bulged, stretching the skin so tight around the nuts that you could see every vein. The kid screamed. I crawled on top of him to watch at close range. Eric’s balls had reached unbelievable proportions. My buddy stared at them in shock, his own cock jerking in ecstasy. The kid’s tool strained like hell, trying to stand upright. I took hold of it at the base with my left hand and moved it to a vertical position.

Eric rubbed my back in appreciation. “Rassle it!” he grunted to me.

I knew that would cause an orgasm. So I decided on a slower approach to make the stud suffer for a while. Keeping the vertical cock steady with my left hand, I gripped it halfway up with the thumb and first finger of my right. Using the two digits like pliers, I squeezed into the stiff shaft.

Eric uttered a series of ecstatic cries. “Higher, man!” he begged, hoping I’d move the pliers upward slightly and go after his center of pleasure.

Since that would make him shoot right away, I kept the pliers away from the spot, although close enough to drive the kid crazy with desire.

“You fucker!” he yelled, realizing that I intended to torture his tool, not try to trigger the orgasm he craved.

But I had underestimated the pleasure generated by Mike’s “death grip” on Eric’s balls. It became clear to me that the hold would soon conquer the kid and make him shoot. Simply watching my buddy squeeze the mammoth nuts pushed my own juice to the edge. Mike saw my cock jump.

“Turn it loose,” he said. “Get me wet, buddy!”

The words sent a shock of pleasure through my balls as if he had shaken them with his hand. I stiffened, unable to defend myself against the advancing cum. I gasped and looked down to see my cock erupt in huge volleys of sex cream. The first blasts struck Mike’s twitching tool. The rest splattered onto the wrestler’s gut in thick, huge loads.

“Yeah, squirt me!” he shouted. The excitement made him squeeze Eric’s nuts beyond what any guy could endure.

“I submit! I submit!” screamed the stud.

I felt his cum shoot through the tool as I throttled it with my pliers. Eric bolted upright, throwing me off him as his cock ex­ploded. He lunged at Mike, grabbed his flexing, cum-coated rod and jack-wrestled it violently. Instantly disarmed by the pleasure, he let go of the balls and fell backward to the floor.

Eric’s sex gun kept firing. The stud’s powerful crotch pump catapulted load after load of heavy cream onto Mike’s body, and beyond it. Though grunting in obvious pleasure, the kid didn’t let this spectacular orgasm slow down his all-out assault on my buddy’s cock. Mike yelled as Eric forced the rod to fill itself with cum. It erupted immediately. I watched both guys squirt each other until their cocks had pumped dry.

Mike looked up at the energy-drained stud on his knees beside him. He moved a hand between Eric’s legs and caressed the massive gonads.

“God that feels good,” said the pleasure-whipped kid softly.

Mike gripped the nuts firmly, making Eric’s cock jump.

“Hey man, I can’t do another one! Don’t you ever give up?” said the kid, grinning. .

Mike smiled. “Not very often. But you’re gonna give again!” He squeezed the nuts hard.

“You fucker,” said Eric. “Let go of ‘em, man. It’s late—I’ve gotta work tomorrow.”

“No you don’t,” I said. “Didn’t Mike tell you? He took the three of us off the schedule for tomorrow.”

“That’s right, kid. We have lots of time,” confirmed Mike. He pulled down on the balls as I brought my mouth up to the stud’s stiff tool.

(end)