A Dick in the Ass Sure Beats a Knee to the Groin (Unless You Like that Sort of Thing)

So, I was talking to this naked man the other day. We were out at the prairie, sunning ourselves. No one else was around. He was tucked away safe in his grassy enclave, lying nude on a blanket. I was standing, wearing a pair of running shorts, at the mouth of said enclave – kind of keeping watch, but mostly watching him. He was a good looking man, in a Fred Durst meets middle-aged John McCain kind of way. He possessed a quick smile and an even quicker wit. We were discussing several things – theatre, pop music, my rampant insecurities – when the subject suddenly veered toward sex (as such conversations usually do).

He was telling me about his previous Sunday evening. He had attended a beer bust (his second one that weekend) at the Eagle, where he caught the eye of an out-of-towner. The out-of-towner had had a few and was very flirty, if a bit sloppy. When the OOT (Out-Of-Towner) then attempted a kiss, my now nude friend (let’s call him Dale), Dale got all weirded out, because apparently public displays of affection tend to do that to him. This did not seem to deter the drunken OOT. He invited Dale to his hotel room, as in – let’s leave the bar and go back to my room and fuck. Dale thought, what the hell, and off they went.

Once in the hotel room the OOT became rather shy. It seems his body was hyper-sensitive. Each time Dale would move in and tweak a nipple or squeeze the guy’s package, the OOT would protest, moving away and claiming the contact too intense.

I laughed because; I think we’ve all been there. You know, that guy who gets all skittish about you touching his body? He gets sort of feminine and all ‘stop’ and ‘don’t’ in that whiney, annoying fey way. It makes for a very tedious session, not much of a turn on at all.

When in a similar situation I always want to punch them in the arm and tell them to man up.

My naked friend, Dale? He had a different approach.

He kneed him in the groin. Not once, but several times. He then removed the guys pants and began twisting and squeezing his balls really hard.

I was aghast, to say the least. Really? Cock and Ball Torture (CBT)? Unsolicited? On a first date?

If Dale doubted his choice, it was hard to tell. The mirrored sunglasses he wore robbed his pleasant, masculine face of any sort of emotion. I did notice that he was playing with his nipples a lot. Was he coming on to me? I checked his still-limp dick and ample nut sack for an indication of interest. Nope. Nothing.

So Dale went on with his story, as if kneeing a complete stranger in the balls was an acceptable form of foreplay. After the OOT was stripped, Dale proceeded to eat his ass big time and while the OOT claimed he had never had his ass eaten before, Dale doubted it, because he seemed to ooo and ahh at all the right moments. We have to take Dale’s word for this, because apparently only those who have experience having their ass eaten know when to ooo and ahh in all the right places. Butt munching is as far as they got. The OOT suddenly wanted to return to the bar and find his friends. Once back at the bar, the OOT continued to flirt and try to mack on Dale, but, for Dale, the moment had passed and a return to the hotel room was not in the cards.

Now, I am not a big sissy when it comes to ball play. I like my balls yanked on a bit. And I love it when a trick wraps their thumb and index finger around the top of my ball sack, forcing my balls down, effectively filling up the bottom of my sack making my balls fit nice and tight. Maybe a little squeeze. Certainly some tongue and lip action (makes me rock hard). But the thought of being kneed repeatedly in the groin as an opening act? Well, it just sends my boys right back to their origins; into the safety of my body cavity.

I do get the whole pleasure/pain principal - especially where the scrotum is concerned. It’s like some kind of electrical thrill – you know, like chewing on tin foil.

I have this little leather studded device – a sort of ball wrap / cock ring combination. I have jerked off while wearing it, but never worn it in front of anybody. The mechanics and machinations involved in putting the contraption on prohibits me from wearing it in front of others, as I have a general rule against props and gimmicks in the bedroom (or the forest, or the restroom, or…). The sensation of my balls being forcibly held down, with the pressure and tension building all the while my dick is getting rock hard is an incredible feeling. And not being one of those blessed with low hangers, I kind of like the false sense of length that this device gives my ball sack. I like to take them and bang them about, as if I did have low hangers. It makes me feel like a big, big man.

By the way – I didn’t buy this device. I found it. In a porta-potty in a park I like to cruise in on occasion. It was just sitting on top of the toilet paper dispenser, so I figured – hey – this must be for me. It took me a while to figure out what it was, because the cock ring itself was missing. At first glance it seemed to be several straps of leather with snaps. But somehow I figured it out and for a couple of weeks it amused me to no end.

But that is the extent of my experience with CBT. Some of the stuff I have seen on the internet (mainly in still photos) does not seem to be my cup of tea. I get the pleasure/pain thing, but I don’t think the pain should ever cloud the pleasure. So extreme CBT, or even mild CBT, is not for me.

Dale and I continued to talk about other things. I must have stood there for an hour and a half. The sun was blazing hot and Dale remained naked, lying on his back, tweaking his own nipples, with his eyes hidden behind those mirrored sun glasses the entire time. Finally, my fatigue overcame my shyness. I told him I was tired of standing and moved to lie next to his naked body. As I did, I asked him, politely, “Just don’t knee me in the groin, okay?”

He didn’t. Nor did he protest when I upped the ante by taking one of his erect nipples into my mouth. I alternated between Hoover suction mode and nipping them gently and not-so-gently with my teeth. This did get a response from him and his dick immediately sprang to attention.

We got sweaty. We kissed. He climbed on top of me. I climbed on top of him. I sucked his dick while he moaned and forced my face deep into his crotch. Then we did sort of a 69, with me sucking his dick and him eating my ass. The late day sun beat down upon us and it was pretty hot in all manners of the word.

He then pushed me forward and made it clear that he had every intention of fucking me, which I had prepared for, so I was good to go. Dale was really very masculine, something I failed to pick up on while talking to him, not because his voice was not one that you would associate with masculinity, but because I am never good at gauging the whole top/bottom thing. Dale turned out to be a great top. I’d let him fuck me in the outdoors anytime. We both shot our loads and he laughed when I pulled out my usual supply of wet wipes and Listerine.

He complimented me on my nipple hovering skills and told me he was thinking that we’d never get around to playing with all the yaketty-yak that had preceded our physical tryst. I was going to point out that bringing up CBT as a practiced means of foreplay probably had a lot to do with my reluctance to get down and dirty, but I let it pass.

For the record? The way into a guy’s pants is probably not via a knee to his groin.

At least not my pants.