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Have the Balls

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It was pouring rain for days. So, I was talking to my friend Prana. #Solo #Talk/Text #Objects

She’s Russian, or her family identifies as Russian, and she speaks Russian, even though they’re Tajiki, and her home town, Toshkent is the capital city of Uzbekistan now. It was still part of Soviet Russia when her family left, back before the Muslims moved in.

They also look Muslim, which is probably why they identify as Russian Americans. Politically, it’s just better that way, but you know. Straight black hair, and eyes, not real dark skin, though. Apparently, the Tajiks were originally from Persia, way back when the Darises (1, and 2) and Xerxes were trying to take over the world.

You ever seen the movie 300? Well, the big golden giant king, with all the bling. That’s supposed to be Xerxes, and his son Darius II moved west to conquer, because the Greeks gave his daddy such a hard time. That’s why there last name is Arajanov, or Aryan. (Or from the Arayan area in Cossack) She is Aryan, no matter what the Nazis, and Neo-Nazis, and Nazi sympathizers might think.

It don’t mean blonde hair, and blue eyes, it means Royal, in Sanskrit, or Iranian in Farsi. Same damned word, they just read something from some Cossack tales (Like Baba Yaga, who was a witch, not a Booggyman, and lived in a hut on chicken legs so it could get up, and walk around the steppes.) Basically, they’re talking about the Tajiks.

So, that’s enough history for one day, but I was on computer, and she messaged me. In private, when she could have put something up on my wall, if it weren’t the statue of a Lingam. Her family don’t practice no faiths, but her momma got it on some trip to Jammu, and Kashmir. A literal stone penis, it’s supposed to be for Shiva, or some fertility thing, but she sent me it to brag.

[YTF is it so shiny?]

[Y U think? It’s really rock hard!]

I laughed, and looked up at dad, who turned to see “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing.” She’d shown me it, when I was over there. Up in the glass case her mom kept all her souvenirs, and it ain’t that large, honestly. For a God cock, but still, you can’t expect to leave something like that lying around, with girls in the house, and not get into it. Or it, into her, as the case may be. “Just some meme.” I switched back to my wall, and scrolled down, to pick one at random. Turned the screen to show him, but he was already turned away, and sipping his coffee.

[What’s it like?]

[Cold until it warmed up, do you think it counts, against my virginity?]

[IDK, you feel anything break?]

[Of course, that was the point, but I can say I lost it to a God!]

“Aphihnm!” I bit my lip. She’s barely thirteen, and I’m only 12, so. “I’m gonna.” Checking the charge on the computer. “Take this in my room, okay?”

[Last night.] She sent back, which also bumped the pic up, enough that you couldn’t really tell, it was anything.

[BRB…] I unplugged the power cord, and headed for my room. [Okay, you know how boys say: “You don’t have the balls?”]

[Yeah, uh huh?]

[Well, I guess it’s kinda like hillbillies talking about a “Monsoon.”] She likes language, of course. Not many 13 year old girls have plans to be Interpreters at the UN, but her mamo’s like a Latte brown Lara Croft, or she wants to start her own antiqueties museum at home, which is how she got a Hindi name to begin with.

She figures that’s a chance to travel, once this whole thing blows over. Not the hurricane, sucking rain down from the Ozarks. She laughs at people calling them “Mountains,” because where she’s from, they have “Mountains” like that. Overlooking the plains, but they’re called Foothills, of the Himalayas. You can’t even see Everest from there, there’s too many Mountains in the way. So, if you ask her, it’s not a Mountain if the show cap thaws in the summer.

[This is bad, tho. The rains, I’m not worried about, but the typhoon.]

[Yeah, but it’s not going to get this far inland.] It had to run clear acrost Louisiana, and half of Arkansas to hit us, but it’s been known to happen before, and she’s here long enough to remember Danny. Crossing the Appilatians to tear up the eastern seaboard, but where she’s from. It don’t get much more landlocked then that, which’s why she still calls Hurricains “Typhoons.” [I’m sure it’ll all get back to normal once it heads on into Texas.]

I got my ball bag out, and grinned. Moving the pointer over to the camera logo, in the Chat window, and took a pic. Grinning. [Are those the balls UR talking about?]

[Yeah, my mom don’t got no solid stone God cock to sneak out the cabinet, and when was this?] It was broad daylight, and I think she set it up on the patio table out back.

[Oh, last week. It healed, but Mom’s out in the area.]

[What area?]

[The general kitchen, living room, and dining room area, where the curio’s at. So, I can’t get at it without her noticing.]

[UR… Though?]

[Yeah, 2 fingers. Now that it’s healed.]

“Uh!” I’m not wet yet, so I popped the littlest in my mouth, and rolled it around, to get it wet.

We’re friends, good friends, not best friends, and definitely not friends with benefits, but we’re open, and honest about stuff, like our sexuality. She showed me her mom’s original copy of the Kama Sutra, in sanskrit. I mean, copy of an original, not translated into English by Lord Burton like 1001 Nights.

That’s probably why she messaged me, privately. Because she can trust me to keep a secret, and not to ruin it, by making it gay. We’re straight, both of us, I’m pretty sure. Not even bi-curious, so we can masturbate together, without it turning all weird. Well, at least we could, before we had to stay inside all summer, and still to this very day, the whole town’s on lockdown.

[Great big orgasms, though!] She sent back, either typing 1 handed, or wiping her fingers off before touching the touch-screen on her phone. I can imagine, because I got to, but I taught her everything I knowed. So did she, it’s more of an exchange of tips, and tricks, to get more pleasure out of life. Which is especially important now, that there ain’t much more to do than sit around, and text with friends.

No pictures though. Being 12, and 13, the last thing we need is to get caught with pictures likeat. Nothing more suggestive than say the lingam standing up on her patio table, with the railing out of focus, and the grass shining in the sunlight behind it.

[Chel?] Sea. It’s Chelsea, after Chelsea Clinton. Not short for Michelle.

[Huh, sorry.]

[What do you do with the balls?]

[Uh, U know. Just roll them around, against my cherry, and dare myself to pop it in, but. Like I said, I don’t have the balls. I bet it really hurt.]

[Not really, too much. I gave myself an orgasm first, so the pleasure drowned out the pain, and I was on my period, so I was already practically bleeding.]

[Ew. TMI.]

[Sorry, but if you wait, then you can make it easier, the next time around.]

[GTK] Backspace, [GTG, my daddy probably wants his computer back.]

[OKbye.]

“Huh!” I deleted the chat, and the photo out of Cache, but that just left MyFacePage up in history. I don’t want to have another talk with my dad, about why I’m looking up pictures of Lingams, but it’s just. Well, flat on the bottom, so you know what’s missing, right?

For a God, Shiva sure didn’t have the Balls! “Uh! I need some fresh air.”

“Not gonna eat something?”

“I already had breakfast, when I got up.” He slept in, because why not? Okay, it was Sunday, but that don’t make as much of a difference, when you don’t got to get up, and get to work, or school during the week.

It was still pouring out, but I kinda liked the sound. It drownded everything out, beating on the corrugated aluminum, slanted over the rafters. There weren’t no wind to blow it in, but I snuck my ball bag out.

Under my skirt, with the drawstrings tied in a bow, through the crotch of my panties so it hung down between my legs, but not low enough to see the purple cloth below the hem, or the gold stitching around the seams. Let alone the Crown Royal logo on the front.

“Huh!” I pulled the loops out, and shivered a little, when the strings sawed across my lips. “Snh!” I sat back, on the chaise lounge, and put my feet up. Pulled my underwear down, and closed my eyes, to think about.

“Balls.” I don’t know if it’s a fetish, or not, but dad’s not the only one in the house that knows how to check the history on a computer. I know that, because I taught him, after I found some links, in Bookmarks.

To sites I wasn’t supposed to go, a couple years ago, but I don’t got no phone, any more. I got to borrow his computer, because mine got confiscated at school for showing dirty pictures to girls in the restroom, until somebody snitched on us.

“Huh!” I don’t know what I’d do to her, if I ever found out who it was, but I’d think of something. It really depends on her, and who she is what’s the best way to get back at her, but. “Huh!”

This is not helping me, loosen up. I guess it all started when some boys came over to do some yard work. My daddy mowed, and he told them that he just mowed, but they also brought saws, and stuff. Pointed out the overgrown bushes in front, that looked like they had little Christmas trees sticking out the tops, because they’re cedar, and they hadn’t been trimmed since mom left.

“Huh!” Long story, I’m just not getting into it. So anyhow, they cut those off flat, across the bottom of the window sill, where I could watch them from the living room, but I guess that was the first time I started feeling.

Ignored? I mean, there was a lot of boys, with a lot of tools. Saws, and big shears, they had this one power saw like a machinegun. Only the saw blade sawed in, and out, but they had to plug in the charger on the back porch. Right there, in fact. I could look over at the outlet cover, but that’s not what really peeked my interest.

I took my clothes off, in the living room, for attention. I didn’t realize that they couldn’t see in, because it was bright outside, dark in the living room, and the big picture window was reflecting the sky out front like a giant mirror. It was the first time, I tried anything exhibitionistic, and I just failed, completely. Which is why I got so desperate to get their attention.

Then, dad got back from the store, with the money. He used the cash machine, and also picked up a gallon of sweet tea for them to drink. So, I ran back to my room to put some clothes on. Then, I opened up the back window, to smell the cut cedar from all the way out front, but before long, the boys came around to pick up the back yard.

Now my daddy, he went to the minimal effort up front. He kept the grass cut short enough for the neighbors to complain, or cut it when they complained it got too long, but our back yard was littered with sticks, and covered in leaves. So, the grass didn’t even grow, for years. (After mom left, and he got depressed.)

So anyhow, a long story short, they joked about “Faggots.” That’s a bundle of sticks, they had to tie up so the trash people would pick them up off the curb. They had to rake the leaves up, and stuff them into bags too, but all those sticks just fell off the trees dead, on their own. So, they had to get cut up, and they wore out the one battery on the Saws All.

That’s what they called it, but it wouldn’t saw all the sticks, without recharging a bunch. Finally, they set one up, so a branch was on top, and they could stomp it, to break it up. They’d done the same thing to others, propped up against the stone wall, so it would snap. Chopped at it with a hatchet, and machete, to make it easier, but this one, sprang right up, and caught a boy between the legs.

“Ah, my balls!” He fell down, holding himself, while the boys laughed, and I guess. I don’t know why I got so obsessed with boys, having balls in their pants. I mean, he touched himself, yeah. But he wasn’t playing with them, or nothing, he just. “Huh!”

Well, they came back, again, and again, until the job got done. I got to see them with their shirts off, and they had great tans. Pretty muscular arms, and some of them even had a little hair under there. They didn’t look like dad, or he didn’t look like them no more.

He got depressed, drank a lot more. I mean he used to have a beer when he got home from work, but he didn’t get drunk. Unless they went out to a party, and he had a few too many, but then mom left, and he got drunk a lot more. Started drinking hard licker, like Crown, and Coke. So, he put on weight, lost a lot of muscle, and eventually got to the point that he couldn’t see his own dick without a mirror.

He was a grown man, though. Single again, and he still had needs, which he took care of on his own. He tried to date, and his failures there didn’t help his depression neither, but he didn’t whack off in front of me, or nothing. I didn’t even know he was doing it, until I got on his computer, and saw what he was whacking off to.

Fairly normal middle aged mainstream porn. You want the keywords? [Tits] first, followed by [Natural] He don’t like implants, but he likes them big. Skinny little women, with big saggy tits, and if you watch the videos enough, most of them end up with a dick between them at some point. Dad’s a tit man, a tit fucker, and if she can lick her own nipples, that’s a plus 2.

I didn’t have nothing, in fact I didn’t even have all my teeth back, when I started watching porn. A lot, he started clearing history, but by then, I already knew where to look at. In fact, it didn’t even take me long to find a video of a man stuffing his balls in a woman’s ass. He tried sticking his dick in the top, and stuff his balls in her ass, with her panties tied tight around the whole shebang, but he couldn’t get them all in at once.

So anyhow, the boys finished up the yard in a couple weeks, but I didn’t never have no brother. I didn’t really know any boys, not even them. Dad sure didn’t want them talking to me, hanging out the window, and he wouldn’t let me go out there when they’re working, because it was dangerous. I didn’t even learn his name, but that’s the first time I heard them say “You ain’t got the balls.”

My first, childish crush was on the boy, I knew literally had the balls, because he’d wracked them, trying to break a branch off. They dared each other to climb up, and tie a rope to the “Widow Makers.” Those were the branches that didn’t break off, but just kinda hung there, and dad told me they’re called that “On account of they kin fall off any time, and kill you.” So your wife would be a widow after that.

They called each other “Chicken,” and made “Bwock bwoack!” noises too, but quite often, they said he didn’t have the balls to climb up there with a saw, to cut them down. Also, I felt sorry for him, because he hurt himself, and they laughed at him, but it didn’t take long for me to start playing with balls in my pants.

Then 1 ball, because it wasn’t easy to keep 2 straight, lined up with my cracks to roll it back, and forth. Finally wet, I popped the smallest one in to roll it around, and pop it out, to roll it down further. “Inh!” I grunted, enjoying the stretching, the popping through, and the pucker, kissing my fingertip. I pushed, to poop it back out slowly, but then I popped the second smallest one in my mouth.

My baby hole, to roll around against my cherry, then down to my butthole. Then the next biggest, and the next, until finally, I had them all tucked up my butt, normally.

“What’re you doing out there?”

“Uh!” I sat up, and tried to cross my legs, with my panties still strung between my ankles, and my skirt pulled out over them. “Nothing, dad?”

He looked out the back door, which I couldn’t hear opening, for once. Drownded out by the pouring rain, but I clenched up, which not only held in the string of pearls, tucked up my butt, but also stretched the skin tight over one of the larger ones. I had quite a collection, and I tried not to moan out loud, through my teeth, but I could feel it starting to tear. “NGHUH!”

It popped, and I gasped for breath. “Huh, uh daddy?” I looked back at the door. The back door to the kitchen, shut and he was gone. “Snh?” It hurt, and I just remembered Prana’s advice. To orgasm first, so the pleasure drowned out the pain, and also wait for my period, for some reason.

Too late for that, I pulled my underpants up, and ran into the bathroom. Sobbing, and squatted over the toilet to poop all the balls out. “Snh! Huh!” The bloody ball came out too, pushed out by the string of balls, which was usually, the best. “Uh!” A lot of shit came out too, stuck to the balls, and then following them to splash in the toilet. “Ugh!” It stank, and I felt a little pukey, but the pain went away. Right away, so I wiped my eyes. Blew my nose, and turned around on the toilet.

He got this bidet seat, when toilet paper was scarce, and super expensive, even to order it. I had to pull the towel off, and hold onto the rod to get the angle just right. With my feet up on the toilet tank, and clamp my teeth for the warm gush. “NGHheuh!” My first real douche, I’d enemaed with it before. So I thought I’d flush the residue from that out too, and I hit the flush handle with my toes, before I realized that I hadn’t fished the balls out the toilet yet.

“Huh, shit. Nevermind.” They didn’t all go down, and irregardless, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it now. I didn’t even want to look at dad, when I finished drying off, hung up the towel, and pulled up my underwear, but he was waiting in the hall. Leaned back up against my door, with his arms crossed, “We gotta talk.”

“Oh daddy,” I just hugged his tummy, and he uncrossed his arms to hug me back. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Huh!” I wiped fresh tears out of my eyes, and took a deep breath. “You better go in, and sit down, but.” I nodded. “Huh, you’re right. We do need to talk.”

I’m not a virgin no more, but I made a note to tell Prana. Yeah, it totally counts if you DiY.

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