Moment of Truth Ch. 01

"I would so love to slap your balls. We need to try to do a call where we slap the cum right out of them. I really really would love to try that."

Although the email was very straightforward – 33 words – its unmistakably enthusiastic tone blew my mind.

It was about midnight as I read the email, and I was having a hard time sleeping. I hadn't come for about three weeks, and I'd also had a really hard workout at the gym that evening, so I guess my blood was pumping in more areas than one. The email was from my phonesex buddy, Cristina.

We'd been talking periodically for a couple of years, almost every time ending our calls with me high and dry. She loved orgasm denial, absolutely loved it. I know it sounds contradictory, but after talking to her the first time, I lusted for her denial. We did roleplays, just like "regular" phonesex, except for the ending. She always found a way to end the call with an excuse, a reason, a rationale, for not wanting me to come. Frankly, the controlling factor holding me back from just jacking off by that point was that the call had been so intimate, had pressed so many of my buttons, that I just did not want to come alone. I wanted to share my load with Cris more than I wanted to simply let it fly. If she didn't want me to come, there didn't seem any logical alternative but to zip up and say thank you.

I said our calls ended without me not coming "almost" every time. Once, very early in our unusual relationship, I had called her about 4 days in a row, and on day 4, I softly stroked just under the head of my straining pole as she cast her spell. Suddenly, I realized I'd gone too far, and sort of grunted, and pulled my hand away. The orgasm was not satisfying, but it was an orgasm. I immediately said, "Cris, I'm sorry. I just came. I'm sorry." As I was new to this denial thing, she was very compassionate and forgiving, but I could sense she was disappointed that what seemed like some good potential had been wasted. I was determined to do better.

Several months after that, I suggested a pretty intense scenario that she seemed to think would be fine. The roleplay – where we both were play-acting, of course - would have her teasing my "character" into proposing marriage, and also promising to make her pregnant. She let me blow my wad this time, and wow was it a doozy. Having her extract from me the promise of marriage, the gift of a wedding ring, and the promise of a child together was sheer bliss. Then, as she sweetly described spreading her legs for me, and whispered, "Make me pregnant Pete, shoot your load into me", I pumped out a long, grunting, pulsing, thrusting draining load; she moaned in satisfaction.

Those were the only times I'd blown. She never let me come again. One time last summer, though, she lit a fire in my churning balls so intense I couldn't, absolutely could not, hold back. This time, when I knew I'd blown it, I went ahead and really squeezed out a nice orgasm, in contrast to my earlier mistake. Cris could tell what was happening, and, in a pissed off and disbelieving tone, asked "Are you coming, Pete? Are you coming?"

As my male readers will instinctively understand, I wasn't able to speak while my orgasm was underway. The human brain does not have that capability. I was also unable to contain my grunts, moans, and satisfied sighs.

Our call ended on a very, very uncomfortable note, as you might imagine.

I felt so guilty. The one thing Cris had ever asked of me was that I not come while she enacted these roleplays, which were mostly inventions of my own choosing. She brought my balls to a boil, that day and many many others, over and over, unlike any I'd ever experienced . . . only to hear me, on this awful occasion, come . . . after agreeing not to.

I apologized profusely, and we did several calls following this incident. Once, after mentioning it had been about 40 days since I'd come, I casually mentioned I'd set up a tryst with an escort in the town in which I live.

She demanded I cancel. For some reason I thought it would be OK if I saw an escort; I thought Cris' only requirement was that I not jerk off. It was most definitely not OK.

Strike 2. Big, swinging strike.

On our next call, we were reminiscing a little, and I told her about a phone sex lady I'd talked to many years ago, who liked to have me slap my balls with a belt, loud enough for her to hear. (I always came on the calls with this lady – denial wasn't on our radar screen, believe me.)

When I mentioned this to Cris, I was flabbergasted at her response to my description of the ballslapping I'd received. "I like her," Cris veritably purred.

After a long silence, one of us mentioned the hypothetical possibility of slapping a load of come out of a man's balls, just by slapping them – no shaft contact whatsoever. Then Cris mentioned a very specific pair of balls. Mine.

My selfish, foolish mistakes, described above, were coming home to roost. I thought (hoped) that after a while maybe Cristina would sort of forget about this idea.

Then I got the email with which this story began, which said:

"I would so love to slap your balls. We need to try to do a call where we slap the cum right out of them. I really really would love to try that."

It didn't sound like this idea was going to go away. I was scared about the ballslapping Cristina had in mind, but I was a lot more scared that I'd lose her if I didn't make her happy. And this idea obviously had made her happy.