To set the scene, it was a Friday night, well technically, Saturday morning a bit after 1 and I was on the last commuter train from downtown Frankfurt out to my apartment in Dortelweil. I had spent the day job searching in Frankfurt and then spent the early evening dining with some friends. And when they suggested that we go to a biergarten they liked, I, of course, did not say no. And so we had spent the late evening quite enjoying ourselves with beer and conversation with pleasant company. But now I was on the train going home and was slowly sobering up, but to be frank, was still pretty drunk, probably drunker than I should have been.
Initially, the train car I was in had a dozen or so people in it, but there was a girl who especially caught my eye. She and her friend had clearly been out at some night club having a good time themselves. The friend was cute, but the girl who caught my eye was amazing. She was sort of girl-next-door pretty with a round face and a fantastic figure. I could see her figure clearly because of how she was dressed. She was wearing a skin tight leopard-print catsuit and a sort of a dark colored bolero jacket on top. She had a belt around her middle to show of her slender waist and was wearing wedge heels which made her look especially tall. With the heels, she looked like she was 185cm, so even without, I'd bet she was at least 175cm. The shoes also showed off her pretty feet. She had her toe nails painted red.
I think the catsuit was cotton rather than spandex because it wasn't glossy looking, but it definitely fit her very tightly, hugging every curve. And boy did she have curves. As I already mentioned, she had a very small waist with a black leather belt around it. And then she had some nice, wide, round, lovely hips. And up top, she had a magnificent pair of tits. They were big and round and she didn't have a very large rib cage, so they just dominated her upper body. Her catsuit showed just a little cleavage, but her bolero jacket I'm sure kept her arms warm, but it didn't button across her chest, so I could see her lovely breasts very easily.
And, really, I guess I was staring at them too much. I usually try not to stare, but I was a still pretty drunk and I was sort of oblivious to the situation. When the train started downtown, there were only about a dozen people in the train car, but as we got away from downtown, more people got off. After Frankfurter Berg, only the girls and I were still on.
The way I know that I was staring too much is that when the train was approaching Berkersheim, the busty girl's friend said, "Well, this is my stop coming up."
And the busty girl in the tight catsuit whispered to her friend, "Do you have to go? I'm worried about that guy, he keeps staring at me." Although I think she was trying to whisper quietly, they were not that far away and I could hear her clearly.
I felt really bad because I had no bad intentions and had not meant to creep her out. I should maybe have just kept my head down, but alcohol always loosens my tongue, so I said, "Hey, no. I'm sorry! I am harmless. I wasn't trying to stare. It's just that I'm drunk and you're so pretty. I didn't mean anything. I promise. I'm a nice guy. I just stared by accident at your lovely boobs. I mean, at you, at your lovely self. Plus, even if I were to try something, which I wouldn't, but if I were to, I'm kind of slow and unsteady right now, I'm pretty drunk, and you could just kick me right in the balls. You could just use your pretty foot to smash my balls in if I tried anything and I would be all hurt on the ground with my poor smashed balls. Yes, I would. So you're perfectly safe. I won't do anything and if I did, you would smash my balls easily anyway."
The girls just kind of looked at me as I rambled through all of that. And then they looked at each other. The busty one smiled at her friend. "I'm sure I'll be fine."
The train came to a stop and the friend departed, leaving only the busty girl and I together. Once the doors closed, she turned towards me. "So, does it really hurt that bad, getting kicked in the balls?"
"Oh, yes," I said, "it hurts like a lot. Like, very, very much. Have you kicked a guy in the balls?"
"No. I've wondered about it, but I've never done it."
"Well, you should some time. Guys are rude. They ought to get kicked in the balls more. I'm not rude. I'm nice, but like other guys." I'm not sure why I said that, really. I mean, alcohol was part of my excuse, but then I guess that secretly I liked seeing other guys get their balls kicked.
"What about guys who stare at a girl's tits on a train? Should they get kicked in the balls?"
"Only if they don't have a good excuse, like being drunk." I offered as a defense, but really, I was already imagining her long leg with that wedge heel and her pretty feet with the painted toes smashing right into my balls. The thought was starting to make my heart race, and between looking at her and thinking about it, I was starting to get an erection, which seemed odd to me because I'd never gotten one from thinking about having my balls kicked before.
"I don't think that's a good excuse. I think you need to come over here and let me have my first ball kicking experience."
"Well, I, uh," I stammered. I didn't know what to say.
She gave me a sweet smile. "Please! I really want you to be my first!"
I'm not sure if it was the alcohol impairing my judgement or what, but I said, "Uh, yeah, okay."
She stood up and took hold of one of the overhead straps to steady herself as the car continued to rock. She looked amazing, so tall and sexy.
I pulled myself up out of my seat with some great effort and managed to move unsteadily over towards her. I grabbed onto a couple of the commuter straps to steady myself.
She stretched her left foot out and nudged my right foot with it. "Spread your feet apart some."
I clung to the straps and slowly slid my right foot farther away until I had my legs pretty well apart. I knew that she was planning to punt my balls, but perhaps because I was still inebriated, I didn't see it coming at all. By the time I realized what was happening, her kick had landed, the top of her foot smashing the hell out of my poor crotch. I let out a yell which I think startled her a little, and my legs turned to jelly. My testicles were little balls of hurt which radiated pain all up into my gut.
I was still upright, but only because I managed to still hang onto the commuter straps. My hands and arms had tensed up under the pain, but I was starting to shake under the strain of holding myself up that way.
Noticing that she hadn't actually floored me, she frowned a little and said, "Rats. I thought that would get you on the floor for sure. Well, let me try once more."
I tried to say no, but instead just a little grunt came out which she apparently interpreted as agreement because she stepped towards me and then as I watched in horror, her knee came flying suddenly up into my groin. Again my poor bollocks were viciously smashed. This time, I could feel them flattening agonizingly against my pubic bone quickly and forcefully. It was the most painful thing I'd ever experienced and I collapsed completely all the strength draining from me.
My hands released the straps and I fell in a heap on the floor. I just lay there, moaning in pain.
I heard her giggle. "Yup, got you pretty good that time. That did look like it hurt."
A part of me wanted to put on a good face and smile, but I just couldn't manage it. The pain was still too overwhelming, so I just continued to lie there.
"I hope I didn't break anything. I mean, that was pretty fun, and it would be kind of hot if I did break something, but really I hope I didn't. Are you okay?"
I sort of grunted in response.
"Is that a yes or a no?"
I wasn't being able to find words, but I did manage to make a thumbs-up sign.
"Oh, good. I'm glad you're still intact. It was kind of hot, though, when I thought that I might have really broken you. I definitely liked the kicking, though. I might try it more if I can find the opportunity. It was neat having that sort of power over you."
I could feel the train stopping at Bad Vilbel Süd, but she stayed on. I continued to lie there. Finally, as the train was approaching Bad Vilbel, I manage to pull myself up to a sort of sitting position. My balls were still sore and hurting, but the pain wasn't as sharp as it had been.
"Ah, doing better, I see," she commented.
I nodded.
"Well, here's a special reward for being such a good sport," she said with a smile. And then, as I watched, she pulled the front of her catsuit down, showing me her nipples. Even with my testicles still aching badly, I was thrilled to see them, my mouth gaping open as I stared. She smiled. "Do you think I could kick you again some time?"
I was very divided. There had been something very sexy about the whole thing, but at the same time, I'd never been in so much pain before in my life. But the combination of alcohol and big lovely exposed titties won out. "Yeah, sure."
She got out her phone and I gave her my number. She said she was gonna text me. The train slowed down as it approached the station at Bad Vilbel and, much to my dismay, she put her tits away (although there was a nice bit of jiggling and squeezing as she adjusted them back into place while the train was braking). Once at the stop, she sashayed off the train and I stared at her lovely round ass which the catsuit hugged very tightly. It felt like such a let-down when the door closed behind her.
After she was gone, I realized I should have invited her back to my place, but I was so focussed on my tortured balls that I didn't even think of it. By the time I got to Dortelweil, I was recovered enough to get up and limp back to my flat.
As soon as I got home, I masturbated with my still aching balls and had a really satisfying and messy orgasm. It's been a week and a half since the incident on the train and I've masturbated at least once a day since then thinking of her busting me and showing me her tits or showing me her tits and then busting me for looking.
But what hasn't happened since then is that she hasn't texted me. I worry that being drunk I might've messed up some digits when I was telling her my number or given her an old number by accident. Or maybe she's just feeling awkward about actually sending a text to the guy whose balls she kicked on the train. All I know is that I haven't heard from her. So now I'm keeping my eye out every time I ride the train and feeling hopeful every time I hear my text message alert that it might be an invitation from her. But for now all I can do is remember what happened and hope for more.
