A few months ago I had a brief romance with a friend I’m going to call “the squirrel”.
The romance was brief because she was on holiday in my city and lives more than 10,000 kilometers away – a pity because in many ways she was a keeper.
But it was memorable. I call her the squirrel because she is crazy about nuts.
This was great because it dovetailed with one of my own preoccupations and it is rare to find a woman as devoted to that part of the body as I am.
Rumour or fiction
My squirrel is from a country in southeast Asia which people often overlook when it comes to the sexuality of its women.
But an Eastern European friend of mine who is experienced in these matters told me it was his favorite travel destination for that reason.
For some reason all the women he hooks up with there love sucking a guy’s balls, he told me.
I made a mental note.
Most of the women I end up sleeping with tend to handle a guy’s balls with the kind of nervous fidgety delicacy that you would imagine they would reserve for disposing of primed explosives. That is at least until if and when I manage to teach them better.
The problem is that edging on the side of caution sometimes fails to edge on the side of anything.
Whose balls are they? I’ve even asked on occasion when the woman seems even more concerned than me that no harm should come to the family jewels. Does it really matter to you that much that you don’t hurt them?
Discovering we are in the same ball park
By a coincidence very soon after I found myself on a date with someone from the country my friend had mentioned. In truth when we matched I thought she was well out of my league. I very nearly cancelled the date because I thought it would be a waste of time.
But a voice in my mind urged me to go because of an outside possibility that it might lead to something. I tend to have better luck than average with Asian women just as in the same way I fare worse than average with French women. I think there’s just something in my looks and manner that sits relatively well with Asians and doesn’t chime especially with what French women are looking for.
My friend is “proved” right
As it happened things progressed quickly with my Asian friend. We hung out throughout the afternoon.
Then I took her to a cool restaurant and after that things just fell into the place. Afterwards we kissed and headed back to my flat.
Within 30 seconds of getting through the door she had her tights off. About a minute later I was reflecting that perhaps my friend was right about women from this country being partial to testicles.
She cupped them, examined them, tugged at them and squeezed them. Then she sucked them and sucked them some more.
Not only was I delighted with my playful new friend, she was also having a ball.
Her last boyfriend had not enjoyed having attention paid to this area. She was keen to catch upon what she had missed out on.
Unusually I even had to actually ask her to leave my balls alone for a while to let them recover from her enthusiastic attentions.
I find this sometimes happens with a longer-term sexual partner who discovers the joys of ball play and goes a bit overboard. But it’s rare in someone I’ve slept with for the first time.
A testicle festival
We spent a few days together and I showed her around.
When she went to sleep one of her hands would invariably nestle cupping my balls.
In the mornings when she woke up it would be the first part of my body she touched.
We even went for a walk in the hills and at one point as we sat down and she unbuttoned my jeans and began to play with my dick there and then in the open air. Of course my balls soon followed.
At that point a curious phenomenon emerged which sometimes happens with women who really buy into my love of ball play. They get jokingly possessive about my balls and start to jest about keeping them.
Having a ball
I’ve had one girlfriend who used to joke about wishing my scrotum could be unscrewed. This was so she could keep my balls in her pocket all day and then give them back to me when we saw each other.
Another liked to talk about her “anti stress balls” when we were having sex. This was something she would take a touch literally when it came to massaging them.
My squirrel duly began to joke about how her ideal souvenir of her trip to Europe to take back home would be my gonads.
Don’t worry she said at last giving me a kiss when I must have started to look a bit fearful. I’m not going to take your balls home with me.
A trick of the eye
After a few days she had to return to her country. But the connection between us was strong. Almost as soon as she was back in her city relationship our chats began, recalling various aspects of our holiday romance in hot detail. It was only a matter of time before we started to exchange explicit photos.
The first thing she asked for was a photo of my balls. The strange thing was that the selfie I took through an accidental (honestly) trick of perspective, made them look enormous.
Soon this seemed to play a trick in turn on her memory.
She was falsely remembering my balls as being every bit in reality as big as they appeared to be in this flattering genital pic.
Before long she wasn’t only remembering what fun she had with my balls but how memorably big they were.
Saying goodbye with a tear in my eye
She now has quite a library of genital selfies of mine on her phone – ones she has asked for.
But as always holiday romances start to dissolve.
We still talk but now she is getting to know another guy and I’m getting to know someone else and so we have put a moratorium on sexting between us to help us concentrate on them. I haven’t asked her if the guy she’s seeing likes “squirrels”.
If he does, he might or might not know it yet, but he is a lucky guy.
By Max
