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All I could do was wait, trembling, as the leering, Speedo-clad youth strutted back in forth perpendicular to a spot ten feet ahead of me, eying my exposed groin with relish. I flinched at his approach but stood my ground. We were both so excited that we nearly hyperventilated before we calmed down enough to begin our little game. Boys at my boarding school are very macho yet insecure enough to spend the effort to plump up our Speedos just so before entering the pool area.

The popularity of these public competitions was too much to keep under a basket so the practice soon spread. He was arrogant and very macho with a shaved head and ponderous, bulging swimsuit.

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Nothing prepared me for a direct hit from a humiliated, vengeful young man such as this. He stood stoically with his tapering legs spread wide, his smooth chest sticking out and his genitals jutting out, his fat erection pointing off to one teen while his full balls were displayed fully by the stretched, gleaming yellow material.

While there were many random groin-centered assaults in the hallways and dorm rooms, these public challenges took a life of their own. While I somehow managed to be quieter than he was during his performance, I was much more flamboyant in my movements. Like the sexual ballbusting we had together, no one could admit to liking it too much even though it was manifested quite obviously that we all did. By then the of our story spread like wildfire among the fifteen seventh-graders and three ninth-grade assistant coaches of the class.

Nav Home Many boys in Argentina attend Catholic, single-sex boarding schools, such as myself.

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We detested each other in that way that young adolescent boys do when they see a potential rival. From the far side of the showers, he ordered me into the pose he preferred legs spread wide, lightly bent forward and with my hands clutched behind my back. Initially it was a bet with a strutting fellow seventh grader over who was quickest at meter sprints. Luckily, he slipped as his foot flailed towards my vulnerable groin.

But he got his revenge in the end. The two of us became something of heroes to our peers and as a result became fast friends. I rose up then fell down to my knees as quickly in mute shock. They all involved a couple or several boys with many more watching on.

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We all laughed at that, which helped to change the mood to a less antagonistic to a more joking one. In fact. The perversity of this rompted four other youths to kneel down and cram themselves on the other side of me. I blame training for our swimming team for this. So the after-swim showers were jam-packed.

The room echoed loudly, first with a crisp slap of bare foot to unprotected, lycra-girded testicles, then by the sweet sound of his pubertal, agonized groans.

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The jabbering mob convinced us that the best. There were only a few boys without prominent erections and even these youths had their half-folded down penises straining against the shiny clinging material of their swimsuits. The result is nearly unrestricted crotch warfare whenever unsupervised. Many boys here also enjoy busting the balls of classmates, such as myself. The bald-headed seventh-grader let loose a victorious grunt a split second before his foot connected squarely into my bulging groin. My close friends complained what a rotten thing this was to pull on a fellow, which only made the miscreants looming over me want to violate me more.

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As all rowdy boys have experimented in this fashion with friends and playground enemiesthis was not my first blow to my private area that I had suffered. He chose a running kick to exact the first half of his vengeance.

Boys caught touching themselves are ribbed mercilessly in our school and the crowd exploded with taunting laughter and cat-calls as the young, writhing teenager appeared to be molesting himself in front of our very eyes. It only glided halfway up my thigh and met only with the air as he sprawled on the floor. However we were all good-natured about things.

They usually entailed the challengers wearing proscribed clothing snug-fitting uniforms such as swimming or wrestling with the occasional making due with combatants wearing only their briefs. Such bets were common enough that we both knew this meant giving the winner a clear shot to the groin with the other boys serving as witnesses. He felt cheated but the jury, to my relief, judged that I met my. He spun around and offered it to the entire crowd, even pulling on it through his swimsuit.

He was far from the only boy presenting an advanced state of arousal, so the mestizo boy merely shrugged and pulled on his erection through his yellow Speedos, challenging the mob by demanding which of the boys wanted some.

However, three of them expressed their intension to shoot the of the self-abuse teen my upper body and face while I writhed helplessly before them. But the swimming pool was by far the most popular arena for our ball-bashing competitions. Then wave after wave of indescribable pain racked my belly and groin. Pair that with the hyper-macho culture of these boarding schools, with the many dark impulses that ballbusting boys possess.

We then relaxed and enjoyed the sight of the boy writhing helplessly under the scalding hot water spraying down on us. For nearly a half-hour, I was at the mercy of the mob. But most of these groin-centered assaults were of the schoolyard story, glancing blows or self-restrained to a certain extent. The mob of jeering boys doubled their efforts as the seventh-grader clinched his gleaming, smooth thighs together and began to undulate his hips up and down as though he were fucking.

From a standing stance, whipped his foot between my spread legs and landed so hard that my feet left the ground. His dark ballbusting eyes twinkled merrily as he approached me. Of course, most of the kids enjoyed hitting balls more than getting theirs hit, although there were many boys that would get especially excited sexually from getting it in the balls I was one of these boys. Besides locker rooms and bathrooms, any boy wearing any sort of athletic wear was asking for it especially badly.

The thirteen-year-old boy commenced moaning softly, slid. He merely glared back at me. Even though I was terrified as was he, even if he knew that he would get to inflict twice the damage than I couldI was as excited as the boys milling around us. While quick side-bets were common teen, a story where two boys were committed to exchange three unrestricted kicks was unusually grueling, especially done so publicly with advanced notice for the others.

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Predictably, several of the boys watching took matters into their own hands. You have so many boys running around in drenched swimming briefs who have conflicted feelings about what they see bulging out. I recall feeling at least three other blows to my groin but was already in such a state of distress that I. My friends said that I writhed and jerked about the floor quite spectacularly but, all in all, I took my medicine manfully. I remember only hitting the tiled floor and curling into a ball, and pain so intense that I was blinded. I won, but it was so close that we raced again, then a third time.

I story. Several minutes later the leanly muscled boy was able to crawl to his feet, cupping his still-throbbing balls we could see his teen erection survived the ordeal and his trying to hide this fact with his cupped hands prompted several boys to tease him relentlessly. He fell on his ass, hard, but the pain of this accident paled next to the realization that he blew one of his kicks. The sensation of my foot compressing the testicles of a strutting classmate and the total dominance over him the instant I am victorious makes worthwhile the countless times that my own eggs have suffered grievously at the hands and feet of other boys.

My dark-skinned antagonist fought to stay on his feet but my kick was merciless and he succumbed to the ballbusting and sank to his knees, then collapsed onto his stomach. The crowded environment while I suffered my ordeal. Even the most hormonally drunk of the boys present had to admit that I had proven myself, so they controlled their urges although this punishment became a gruesomely popular addition to the bets made by subsequent boys.

Thus I was held in place, bracketed helplessly between several masturbating boys that intended to stain my torso and face with their spewing fluids. I chose to deliver my kick from a standing position and carefully positioned myself in front of the dark complexioned thirteen-year-old skinhead.

Witnessing the gleeful anticipation of my team rival sent chills across my body. I vaguely recall seeing some of the fifteen-odd faces that hovered over me and only recall one of the preadolescent youths that took advantage of my helplessness by striking my testicles as I lay sprawled at their feet. I stared into his dark eyes and laughed with pleasure. I rolled around seemingly from one side to another although the crowd of excited schoolboys helped me in this regard by pushing me and rolling me about; several of the smallest boys even took advantage of my helplessness by sneaking in quick slaps and punches into my groin from time to time.

The boys — myself most of all — exploded with laughter.