Neptune's Nut
An ode to balls and why they should be appreciated by all.
The boys changed. After one balmy summer holiday they returned to school as men. As if overnight. Their voices had grown deeper, and their bodies taller. Stomachs that were once soft and round had become flat and gaunt. And all about these young men hung this musk of puberty and it was intoxicating. The boys' walks had changed from meek shuffling to a swagger; as it was the manhood that lay between their legs that had become their centres of gravity.
And of course we all know that the sole cause of these wild changes were those nuts now plump and full; hanging low and vulnerable between these boys' legs.
I too had changed. From a washboard figure my breasts had become handfuls, and my sex became wet and willing. Once weary of the immaturity of boys I had become fascinated with the men in my life with a renewed vigour. I became near obsessed with the outline of every package in those tight-fitting jeans.
It was not long after that we had discovered our sexuality that I began to discover the joy of balls; and the joy of Neptune's balls in particular. My lust for the tackle of this lithe fox was insatiable. It was always outwith the school grounds upon the shoreline; a beach that ran for miles along the coast with pristine white dunes. Neptune and I went swimming almost every day we could, and this Indian Summer was no exception.
Neptune's vulpine body stood there in the pale sunlight of a muggy October day. His body glistened with speckled sea spray. I knelt before him, and could feel the heat and grit of the sandy beach against my calves, matched only by the heat I could feel radiating from Neptune's nether regions.
"You want my balls that much?" He laughed.
I suckled upon each testis individually and savoured the moment. In my mouth was the very definition of manhood. Two potent silos of seed which generated that wild male hormone which coursed throughout Neptune's body, savaging his underlying rationality, leaving only a man who wants to rut, a man who wants to fuck, breed and fight! Such dangerous machinery these balls of his.
And to find a fox like Neptune who can fight those primal instincts is a great treasure. Neptune was a man who can restrain that coursing desire to fuck me raw, to ejaculate within me. Neptune overcame his base desires and tore his attention away from that throbbing dagger of a penis and concentrate on his true pleasure centres, his true maleness, his balls. He was a treasure. A real man.
Wordlessly I held his nuts in my hand, and began to worship them. Filling my maw with them, tugging gently. I pulled softly on each. I swirled my tongue, exploring each nook and crevice of his scrotum. I caressed them like soft velvet against my mouth. Balls were designed for sucking, for exploring. The taste was salty and tart like the crystal ocean that Neptune had swum just moments ago. Yet my nose was embedded deep within that soft pubic fur, and I could inhale that deep male musk which screamed out his base needs to rut.
Neptune signed, and idly began to stroke his dick. I batted his hand away. No penis!
"Come on babe," he whined, "just let me..."
I grabbing his vulnerable sack firmly in my hand and tugged until he could feel the pinch. A taunt sack will remind men of who is really in control.
"You can cum from your balls," I cooed, "you've done it before, babe. You know the rules."
Neptune whined, but nodded softly. His red rocket would remain unmolested, jutting out, begging for release in the mid-morning air. He will thank me later! A balls-only orgasm is the only true orgasm for men in my opine. An orgasm that can only be achieved through the careful, directed and undivided attention of a loving worshipper.
I resumed. Oh! To kneel in front of the very core of maleness, the very centre of paternity! I don't feel truly happy unless I prostrate myself at the alter of the male sex.
Perhaps it is the vulnerability which encourages other men not to dwell upon their sacks. A great deal of trust is required for him, that powerful male, to place his delicate and sensitive core in my willing mouth, and to concentrate, really concentrate, on his balls' manipulation. Balls represent so much male aggression, yet when both fit comfortably in my maw, their testicles must feel such sensitivity and exposure. Neptune knew the pain I could inflict. All men know intimately how sensitive their own ballsack is.
Perhaps you, dear reader, see it as a cruel jape of the gods to place what is the very core of male aggression on the peripherals of the body, and even crueller still to make that organ the centre for fertility. I see it as a gift. Balls were placed on the outside for us women to appreciate.
Neptune moaned softly as I began to arhythmically tug on his sack. I hummed into his balls, hoping that the vibrations of my moans may yet send him over the edge.
I was soaking wet by this point. Neptune could smell the want dripping form my sex, driving him yet deeper into lustful madness. He thrust his exposed dick into the air mercilessly, but true to his word did not touch his sheath. He concentrated instead on the pleasure afforded to him to have his balls so expertly worshipped.
I could feel his balls tightening as his euphoric state began to reach its plateau. From low-hangers his testicles transformed to round and plump eggs, hugging close to the base of his penis. Preparing for that glorious ejaculation. I savoured every moment of the transformation which took place in my mouth. Oh how I loved this moment! The way the balls moved and changed with the heat of orgasm! Such versatility!
He growled, "I'm close, babe! Keep going!"
As if I were to stop! I was in my element, I could cum solely from sucking his balls. I grabbed a firm buttocks in each hand, and began to worship with all my might, probing all I could, while pulling softly on the testes, entering a tug-of-war with his scrotum.
He growled, thrusting his dick in the air with primal ferocity. His testicles were on fire; sucked to a point of almost pain, engorged with blood. His turgid penis slapping my forehead with every stab at the open sea air.
I could feel it happen, his balls pull tight, his scrotum shrink, and his penis began to pulsate, throwing his ejaculate across the coarse sand.
I pulled my head back, and allowed myself to receive my reward. Thick ropes of cum arced across my face. Fresh and male. I closed my eyes and hit nirvana. This was the power of balls, this was the definition of maleness. This was my reward for my faith. The warm, sticky seed, with its overpowering scent of testosterone, baptizing me, rewarding me.
Neptune groaned and threw himself onto the beach beside me, he was panting heavily. His balls spent and small now, the beach thick with the scent of his cum.
"Man, you're like, one sick puppy, you know that? I don't think any other girl is obsessed with nuts like you are," he said.
"They're missing out." I replied. "It's almost spiritual."