Let’s Play Ball

Nuts, olives, plums, grapes, marbles, family jewels – the slang words for testicles are pretty diversified. Some are quite original, like Tom & Harry, chipmunk cheeks or meat and two veg. Mikko’s preference goes to “fantasticles”. He’s a guy from Finland and he adores having a ball, so to speak.

In the Summer of 2019, I took a trip to Scandinavia. During two weeks, I visited Sweden, Norway and Denmark. Being a fan of the homoerotic artist Tom of Finland, I extended my trip to visit his country. I had reserved a ticket for a tour of Helsinki, with an emphasis on the streets once wandered by Touko Laaksonen, better know as Tom of Finland.

On this tour, we see how many clandestine meeting places for gay men have become public places, and how Tom of Finland is now a Finnish icon for “acceptance”. During a stroll through the streets of Helsinki, I noticed that a handsome guy in a wheelchair was wearing a leather harness over a Tom of Finland t-shirt. He kept smiling at me, and I took this as an invitation. I introduced myself and learned that Mikko is 30-years old, lives in Tampere, 160 km north of Helsinki, is gay and an enthusiastic fan of Tom of Finland.

Our last stop was Tom’s Bar, a dungeon-like hangout place for those who want to feel the aroma of virility while sipping a beer. The wall facing the counter is adorned with an enlarged drawing of a police officer arresting a motorcyclist and giving him the choice between a speeding ticket or a “suck-your-cop’s-dick” opportunity. The size of the officer’s bulge is a clear indication of the next move.

Mikko recommended that I order a Karjala lager beer. They range between 4.3% and 8% alcohol content. Because of the environment, my beer had a definite virile taste, lol. During our pause, Mikko said that he liked older guys. He winked and did not hesitate in asking how old I was. When I said 69, he smiled and replied “Can I call you Daddy?” Our hands met and we silently sealed the evening program.

Next to the bar, there is a boutique offering a panoply of souvenirs highlighting Tom Finland’s work: art reproductions, cards, posters, books, t-shirts. I noticed that Mikki was leafing through an album of drawings highlighting big asses, big cocks and big balls. “You seem tempted to buy those COPS & ROBBERS, right?” He blushed and indicated that the book was fuckin arousing, but that he could not afford it. “I will settle for a few post cards.”

I let him choose the cards and I discretely bought two copies of the book. On our way out, I invited Mikko to join me for dinner in my room at Hotel Scandic Simonkenttä. Fortunately, it’s well-equipped for visitors in wheelchairs, is very private and has a Rainbow flag in the entrance. As soon as we settled on the king size bed, Mikko told me that he had surgery a few years ago and it left him partially paralyzed below the waist. “I’ll be very blunt, I don’t get a hard-on, do not cum obviously. I love a daddy who plays with my balls.” I immediately kissed him passionately.

“Don’t worry, Son, I’m a 200% fan of oral pleasure. Liking and sucking your balls will be a pure delight.”

“I like it when a man slaps them real hard.”

“Holy fuck! I often squeeze and slap my balls when I jerk off!”

“I guess we will get along pretty fine, Daddy.”

Real estate agents know the value of location, and testicles aren’t much different than homes. Your left nut and your right plum are not exactly next to each other; one hangs a little bit lower than the other. Each marble is approximately 5 cm by 2.5 cm, although typically the right grape is slightly bigger than the left one. However, even though you might think the bigger jewel should hang lower, that’s not the way nature works. Go figure.

As an outward display of maleness, balls barely register: they’re hidden behind clothes, stuffed into jocks, and tucked into one of the darker corners of a guy’s exterior. Talking of jockstraps, the one that Mikko was wearing seemed to have been made to measure, enhancing perfectly the prominent fantasticles. It was white and the pouch looked like a cup (teabags!). As soon a I grabbed it, Mikko urged me to squeeze. The harder I did, the louder he moaned.

I also got undressed, keeping only my red jockstrap on. Mikko positioned himself so that our ball-packages could frot easily. I bumped my juicy fruits against his chipmunk cheeks back and forth. Mikko didn’t take time to notice and feel that I had a hard-on; he pleaded me to pound his fun bag until I could cream it.

We then took a 69 position, completely naked, and I started to kiss, lick and suck Mikko’s profiteroles. He didn’t have to beg his Daddy for raw oral fun. I popped his cherries in and out of my mouth with frenzy, and chewed his nuts avidly. Moans of pleasure became cries of enchantment.  

We took a short pause to enjoy a glass of sparkling Säde Demi-Sec. Mikko then asked me to help him put on his black leather jockstrap (hidden in the inside left pocket of his coat). Once his chicken nuggets were well-wrapped, he pulled out a small wooden paddle from the inside right pocket. Holy fuck! My Son was an organized gay demon, always ready for virile fun. If Mikko had been able to run, his fantasy would have consisted in being chased by a rugged dominant Daddy cladded in leather gear, eager to slap the wooden paddle on the Son’s spuds, stones, sweetmeats, swingers – you name them!

Mikko was in for a surprise. In my suitcase, I had packed leather chaps, vest, arm bands and bracelets. I got cladded exactly as he imagined his dominant Daddy, maybe not to the image of the thugs seen in Tom of Finland’s drawings but certainly as wild. I removed all the sheets on the bed, so that Mikko had a clear surface to roll over, and I took two more glasses of Säde Demi-Sec to fill my bladder.

Mikko did not expect to get a golden shower, but he welcomed it whole-heartedly. It made the bed more slippery and the leather jockstrap more sparkling. I raised the wooden paddle and that was the signal for a satanic choreography: he rolled over, yelling “try to get me and spank my tightly tucked balls!” I started mildly and triggered a small moan; as I slapped harder, Mikko yelled: “Stop, Daddy, my balls hurt!”. But I knew that he was having the hottest man-to-man pleasure of his dreams. Each new stroke was a Hallelujah for Mikko and a boost for my libido.

I concluded with “I really like it when you call me Daddy, got a little gift to show my appreciation.” It was a copy of THE LITTLE BOOK OF TOM – COPS & ROBBERS.