Kirk Miller - story tbc

 

Omar Enfedaque's Painful Park Workout

Hey all you ballbusting fans! Here is a new story based on musician and fitness influencer Omar Enfedaque. He is built like a tank and always exercising shirtless in the park with kettle bells so his muscular frame inspired his ball beating!

If you want more videos of him working out shirtless his handle is 

https://www.instagram.com/omarenfedaque - great angles where you want him ballbusted! BBSuzie xxx

Omar showing how he jerks off

Always bragging about being naked

Omar was the kind of guy who turned heads wherever he went. Standing tall with broad shoulders, muscles rippling under his bronzed skin, and a chiseled six-pack that seemed almost sculpted by the gods themselves, he often drew attention when he worked out in the park. His usual spot was right by the fountain, where the sun cast a golden glow over his shirtless torso as he cranked out sets of push-ups, pull-ups, and squats with ease.

It was a warm Saturday afternoon, and the park was bustling with activity. A few women sat nearby, eyeing him as they whispered and giggled. Omar noticed them, but he was used to it. He thrived on the attention his physique brought, always throwing in a few extra reps whenever he had an audience.

"Let's see if he's as tough as he looks," one of the women, Lisa, whispered to her friends with a mischievous grin. The idea struck her out of nowhere, and it was so absurd that her friends burst into laughter. They joked about it for a while, egging each other on, until Lisa finally stood up, the devilish glint in her eyes growing brighter.

As Omar moved from squats to a plank position, completely absorbed in his workout, Lisa approached him from behind. Without a word, she lined herself up, took a deep breath, and with surprising speed, lifted her leg into a perfect mule kick, her heel landing squarely between his legs.

The shock and pain were instantaneous. Omar gasped, collapsing onto the ground, his hands instinctively clutching at his groin. A ripple of laughter spread through the park, and Omar’s pained groan seemed to hang in the air.

His ego bruised more than his body, he tried to get up, but before he could fully recover, another woman from the group stepped forward, eager to join in. "Hey, let me give it a go!" she said with a giggle.

Omar, still on his knees, couldn't believe what was happening. His attempts to stand were cut short as the next woman delivered another brutal kick. His body convulsed in agony, but the sight of his muscular frame crumpling under the blows only seemed to amuse the women more.

------

As Omar dropped to the ground after the first kick, his breath came in short, panicked bursts. He clutched at his groin, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What the hell?" he gasped, looking up at Lisa with a mixture of pain and shock. "Why would you—"

Before he could finish, another woman stepped forward, laughing. “Oh, come on, tough guy, you can handle this, right?” she teased, lining up her shot.

Omar raised a trembling hand, trying to push himself upright. “Wait—no, stop!” he pleaded, but it was too late. The second kick landed with a sickening thud, and he doubled over, collapsing fully onto the grass. "Oh god, please!" he groaned, his voice cracking under the weight of the agony coursing through his body.

By now, more women had gathered, giggling amongst themselves. One woman from the back shouted, “Look at him squirm! I want a turn!”

Omar, struggling to breathe, propped himself up on one elbow, his voice desperate. “Stop! Please... you’re hurting me!” His words came out in ragged gasps, but no one seemed to care.

Another woman, this one with long red hair tied in a ponytail, walked up with a playful grin. "You’re always showing off, Omar. Let’s see how strong you really are!"

He tried to scoot backward, his voice growing hoarse. “No more… I’m serious! You—" His words cut off with a loud grunt as her kick struck home. His body spasmed, his hands instinctively clutching at his groin, but the damage was already done.

Tears brimmed in his eyes as he lay crumpled on the ground. “You don’t understand… the pain… please…,” he begged, his voice barely a whisper. But the line of women had only grown longer.

As the next woman approached, Omar could only manage a weak, "Why? Why are you doing this?" His voice was laced with both pain and confusion, but his pleas were drowned out by laughter and cheers from the growing crowd.

A woman at the front of the line giggled as she stepped up, her boot tapping the ground playfully. "Because, Omar," she said with a smirk, "it's fun to kick a man there!"

And with that, she delivered another brutal kick. Omar’s body jerked violently, and for a moment, he thought he might black out. His vision blurred, and the throbbing pain in his groin became unbearable. He let out a guttural cry, his voice barely audible.

Through gasps, he muttered, “Please… someone… help…” But no help came. The women kept lining up, their laughter ringing in his ears as he lay there, helpless, each kick pushing him further into the abyss of pain.

---

Omar gasped as he tried to roll away from the relentless line of women, but his body wouldn’t respond. The pain from the first kicks had already left him incapacitated, yet the laughter and taunts continued, as though his suffering was a spectacle they couldn’t resist watching.

---

The first woman’s kick had been more playful than malicious, her heel connecting solidly but without the full force of what was to come. "You should’ve seen your face!" Lisa had laughed, shaking her head as Omar collapsed in a heap.

The second kick, however, was delivered with purpose. The brunette lined herself up, her sneakers digging into the grass as she launched backward. Her heel drove upward and struck his groin with brutal precision. Omar’s breath hitched in his throat, and a strained, guttural sound escaped his lips.

“God, that felt amazing!” the woman exclaimed, laughing. “It’s like I hit a piñata!”

Omar was too overcome to speak. His hands trembled as they hovered over the damage, unsure if even touching it would worsen the unbearable ache. "You... don't understand..." he rasped, his voice barely audible. "It's not... funny. I think—"

Before he could finish, a third woman stepped up, her high heels clicking against the pavement as she approached. She adjusted her stance, her smirk widening. “Let’s see how he takes this,” she said with a wicked grin, lifting her leg in a controlled motion before slamming her heel upward into his groin.

The sharp, pointed heel crushed into him with devastating precision, and Omar screamed. The sound tore from his throat involuntarily, a mixture of agony and disbelief. He could feel a sickening internal snap, and his eyes rolled back as a wave of nausea overtook him.

---

"Did you hear that?" one of the onlookers gasped, her hand over her mouth in mock horror. "That sounded like something… broke."

Omar tried to speak, to plead for them to stop, but his voice was hoarse. “Please… I’m begging you… something’s wrong...” His breaths were shallow, his chest heaving as he fought to stay conscious.

The next woman in line—a tall blonde in running shoes—brushed off his cries. “Oh, come on, you’re built like a tank,” she teased, jogging in place as she prepared her turn. “You’re not gonna let a few kicks take you down, are you?”

Omar couldn’t even lift his head to reply. His hands were pressed against his groin in a futile attempt to protect what remained, but it didn’t matter. The blonde’s sneaker slammed into his hands with enough force to shove them aside and hit its target dead-on.

Her heel crushed into him with a horrifying accuracy, and Omar’s entire body convulsed. His cry was choked, his voice breaking under the sheer intensity of the pain. He curled up on the ground, his face pale and his limbs trembling.

---

The women seemed exhilarated by the effect their kicks were having. One woman stepped away from the crowd, fanning herself dramatically. “Wow, that’s a workout in itself!” she joked, laughing as she watched the next woman take her place.

Each kick seemed to push Omar further toward the edge. By the time the sixth or seventh woman stepped up, he was barely able to move. His groin was a throbbing, swollen mess, and the internal damage was undeniable.

Then it happened. A sharp, gut-wrenching rupture. The ninth kick—delivered by a woman wearing chunky boots—struck with such force that Omar felt an unmistakable tearing sensation. His body stiffened, his eyes widening in horror as a fresh wave of agony consumed him. “Oh, God! I think… they’re gone…” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The woman pulled her leg back, looking down at him with mock sympathy. “Oops,” she said with a smirk, not bothering to hide her amusement.

---

After his testicles ruptured, the kicks didn’t stop. If anything, the women seemed even more enthusiastic, laughing and cheering each other on as they took turns. Omar’s voice grew weaker with every blow, his words devolving into incoherent groans and gasps.

One woman crouched down beside him, her tone dripping with mock concern. “Aww, poor guy,” she cooed, running a finger down his cheek. “You look like you’re in so much pain. Should we stop?”

“Yes...” he managed to whisper, his voice barely audible. “Please... no more...”

But his plea only made the crowd laugh louder. The women spotted Omar's fitness equipment, big heavy shiny kettlebell. "Here girls, help me lift this." Another woman—her heels impossibly tall—stepped forward needing the help of three other women to gift the heavy metal object from the ground. Omar's spots this and sees what that are planning to do with it.

"No..please.." as he tries to roll away only for his large sweaty frame to be pinned back. The 4 women hover the heavy kettlebell over the remain bulge where Omar's manhood used to be. He hoist it high and slam if down between his legs.

Omar arches up and screams. "Ooft that was heavy" the tall woman mocked, whilst the women all laugh mockingly and at Omar's pained reaction. "Let's make sure his manhood's really ruined" as they prepare to lift the kettlebell again and delivered yet another devastating blow. Omar’s body jerked violently, but by now, the pain was so overwhelming that his senses had started to dull. He drifted in and out of consciousness, his world reduced to the relentless pounding in his groin and the mocking laughter surrounding him.

When the last woman finally stepped away, Omar lay motionless on the ground, kettlebell now indented into his groin, his body battered beyond recognition. The women dispersed, satisfied with their fun, leaving him broken and humiliated in the grass.

As the world around him faded, Omar managed one final thought: Why? Why did no one stop them?

In the park showing off his body

Making his wrists stronger for his wanks

Imaging smashing his balls in with that kettlebell

Kick him in his unprotected shorts

Smash his bulge in in those jeans

Drop that kettlebell on his nuts

Operation: Drain the Bunny

Martin was an unstoppable force of energy. At work, he was the go-to guy for anything that needed to be done fast, and in the gym, he was a whirlwind of activity. But in the bedroom, his boundless stamina translated into a less-than-stellar experience for his girlfriend, Fleur.

Martin’s approach to sex was fast. Too fast. Like an Energizer Bunny, he would pump furiously, only to reach the finish line moments later. His hips pumping at lightning speed, sweat dripping from his brow as he pushed himself harder and faster. But, much to Fleur’s dismay, it never lasted long. He approached sex the way he approached everything else: fast, furious, and done in record time. Leaving her unsatisfied and staring at the ceiling while he collapsed into smug contentment.

Last night had been the breaking point. Fleur had watched Martin grin proudly after another three-minute session, his body glistening with sweat as he flopped onto the bed and promptly fell asleep. Her frustration boiled over.

“This has to change,” she muttered to herself.

It was time to put Operation: Drain the Bunny into action.

---

Fleur’s plan began early the next morning. She woke Martin by caressing Martin's cock that instantly stood to attention. Martin's horniness was never the issue, his dick would remain hard and stiff even after cumming, he just couldn't last longer than a few pumps. Martin needed no further invitation. Within moments, he was on top of her, his body already slick with sweat as he pounded away with his usual frenzied pace. Fleur gritted her teeth and let him finish, knowing this was just the start.

Martin moaned as his shoots like load inside her. “Round two?” she suggested with a sly smile as soon as he caught his breath and sweat dripping of his chin onto her.

“Really?” he panted, his face lighting up.

The morning quickly turned into a marathon of Martin’s usual brand of lovemaking. Fleur let him take the lead, knowing it was only a matter of time before his reserves started to deplete. By the time they finished their third session, Martin was visibly winded, his chest heaving and his hair damp with sweat. He throw the third condom full of his spunk on the floor. Even though it was his third load of the day, Martin's high stamina pumps out impressive loads every time.

---

Fleur’s Real Plan Begins

As Martin collapsed onto the bed, his body glistening with sweat, his chest heaving, abs tightened and his sweat-soaked hair plastered to his forehead, Fleur wasn’t ready to call it a night. She straddled him, Her hands ran down his heaving chest, feeling the hard contours of his abs trembling beneath her touch.

“Wait… Fleur,” Martin murmured, his voice shaky. “I’m done. I can’t anymore.”

“Oh, no, you’re not,” Fleur whispered as she grabbed his still rock hard cock, with a wicked smile spreading across her face. “You’ve been going fast and hard all day. Now it's my turn.”

Martin whimpered as she began to grind against him. His body jerked, overstimulated, his abs tensing beneath her touch. “Ah, it’s too sensitive,” he gasped, his voice rising in a pleading tone. “Fleur, I just came—”

Fleur ignored him, her fingers tracing the lines of his damp muscles as her hips rocked with deliberate, unhurried movements. Martin’s hands clenched the sheets, his knuckles white as he struggled to endure the overwhelming sensations. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples and pooled in the dips of his collarbones. 

“Fleur… please,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his overstimulated body bucked beneath her. His hips twitched involuntarily, his eyes squeezing shut. “I can’t —” Martin’s back arched as she moved, his cock twitching inside her, overstimulated to the point of agony. “Fleur!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “I just came! Stop, please—it’s too much!”

“But you're still hard,” she purred, leaning down to kiss his jawline. Her hands slid lower, her fingers brushing lightly over his thighs, then moving to cup him. Martin jolted as her touch lingered, and his moans turned desperate.

“Fleur! I’m too—ahh!” His cry cut off as Fleur gave his balls a light smack, just enough to make him jump. His entire body shuddered, his thighs trembling as she followed it with a firm squeeze.

“Sensitive, huh?” she teased, tilting her head. “Good. That means we’re finally getting somewhere.”

Martin’s breath came in short, ragged bursts as Fleur worked him methodically, alternating between slow, sensual grinding and playful smacks that left him writhing beneath her. His skin glistened with sweat, the room filling with the scent of his exertion. Every time he thought he couldn’t take any more, Fleur pushed him further, her movements coaxing out ragged moans that sounded almost like sobs.

“Fleur,” he begged again, his voice hoarse. “I… I can’t…”

“You can,” she countered, her hands gripping his hips to hold him in place. “And you will.”

Martin’s body arched beneath her as she drove him to the edge again, his protests dissolving into broken groans. His abs tensed, his head pressing back into the pillow as he cried out, his body convulsing as she finally wrung another release from him. His cum trickles down his shaft out the condom, coating his balls and pooling on the sheets under him.

Fleur didn’t stop. Her pace was deliberate, her movements calculated to draw every reaction from him. His protests turned into desperate moans as his overstimulated body betrayed him. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples and chest, mixing with the fresh sheen of exertion as his head thrashed against the damp pillow.

“Fleur, I came—ahhh!” he cried out as she tightened around him, his hands clawing at the sheets.

“You’ve got more in you,” she purred, her fingers trailing down his sweat-slick abdomen.

His body shuddered violently beneath her, his muscles twitching uncontrollably. Despite his cries for her to stop, she continued, her movements unrelenting as she brought him to the edge once again. The bed beneath them was a mess—soaked with sweat and streaked with the evidence of Martin’s repeated climaxes.

“Fleur, please!” he begged, his voice hoarse and desperate. “It’s so sensitive—I can’t take it!”

“Sensitive, huh?” Fleur teased, her voice a playful purr. “Let’s test just how sensitive.”

Her hand slid down his body, the slickness of his sweat making her touch glide effortlessly. Martin groaned as she cupped his balls, his thighs quivering beneath her.

“Fleur, no!” he begged, his voice high-pitched and frantic. “I can’t take it!”

But Fleur only smirked, her hand tightening slightly before delivering a sharp smack to his balls.

Martin’s entire body jolted, his hips bucking involuntarily. “Ahhh! Fleur! Stop!” he screamed, his voice echoing in the room.

“Stop? But we’re having so much fun,” Fleur said with a mock pout, delivering another smack.

Martin thrashed beneath her, his muscles clenching as the combination of pain and pleasure sent him into sensory overload. The bed was a mess, pools of his previous climaxes soaking the sheets beneath him, mixing with the sheen of his sweat. His body glistened under the dim light, his abs contracting with each jolt as Fleur continued to ride him relentlessly.

The Unyielding Ride

Martin’s body was a trembling mess beneath Fleur as she straddled him, her hips rolling steadily against his overstimulated cock. His sweat-soaked torso glistened in the low light, each muscle twitching and flexing involuntarily. His abs, once taut and strong, now shuddered with exhaustion as he tried to endure the relentless sensations Fleur was forcing upon him.

“Fleur,” he whimpered, his voice weak and hoarse. “Please… I’ve already cum… I can’t anymore… it’s raw, it’s so sensitive…”

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Fleur’s head was tilted back in ecstasy, her moans filling the room as her body moved in perfect rhythm. Martin could only gasp, his back arching as another wave of overstimulation wracked his body. His hands weakly gripped her thighs, his fingers slipping against her slick skin. His chest heaved, every muscle in his body quivering under the strain.

“Fleur! Stop, please!” he cried, his voice breaking as she slammed down again. His protests were interrupted by another orgasm wrenched from his overstimulated body. Martin let out a strangled cry as he came again, his hips bucking involuntarily as his release spilled out, adding to the sticky mess pooling beneath them. His thighs shook violently, his entire body trembling as his cock throbbed painfully.

“Fleur, I cum again!” he sobbed, his voice cracking. “Why… why won’t you stop? It’s too much! Please, stop!”

But Fleur didn’t stop. In fact, she leaned forward, her hands splayed across his sweat-slick chest as she rode him even harder. Her nails dug into his skin, leaving faint red marks as she let out another loud moan of pleasure.

“Fleur, it’s raw!” Martin wailed, his hands flailing weakly as he tried to push her off. “I can’t cum anymore—it hurts!”

---

The Ball Strikes Begin

As Martin had his seventh forced orgasm ripped out of him. Fleur was still reaching her peak, she began to slam her hips down harder, and with each thrust, trying to get a reaction out of him. His toned sweat drenched body sprawled on the bed. Even with his stamina he would only now occasionally let out a grunt and moan. The bed underneath him was soaked in his repeated climaxes.

Fleur frustrate with his unwillingness and wanting a reaction out of him reached behind and delivered a sharp smack to Martin’s balls. The surprise strike made him yelp, his entire body convulsing beneath her.

"Argh!" Martin cried. His abs clenched and his chest heaved, the muscles in his arms and legs flexing with every desperate twitch. His sweat-drenched body jerked with each impact, the sharp stings making his overstimulated cock ache even more.

Fleur quickly followed with a another playful tap.

“Fleur! No, please!” he shouted, his voice cracking as his hips bucked uncontrollably.

Fleur, however, seemed to be in a trance, her close orgasm consuming her as she continued to ride him. With every downward thrust, her hand came down on his swollen balls, sending fresh waves of pain and pleasure shooting through him.

“Fleur, please!” Martin sobbed, tears streaming down his face as he writhed beneath her. His voice was hoarse, his throat raw from shouting. “Not my balls! It hurts!"

The bed creaked beneath them, the soaked sheets clinging to Martin’s sweat-soaked back. His muscles strained and flexed as he tried to endure, his entire body trembling with exhaustion. Fleur ignored him, her hands sliding down to cup his heavy, cum-soaked balls. They were swollen and tender, the skin flushed and glistening with sweat and the sticky evidence of his drained reserves. A wicked smile spread across her face as she gave them a firm squeeze, drawing a sharp gasp from Martin.

“Fleur! No!” he cried, his voice breaking as his hips jerked involuntarily.

Without hesitation, Fleur raised her hand and brought it down sharply on his balls. The loud slap echoed through the room, followed by Martin’s anguished wail. His entire body convulsed, his abs clenching and his legs kicking out as the impact sent a wave of unbearable overstimulation through him.

“Please!” Martin sobbed, his voice hoarse from screaming. “Stop punching me in the balls! I can’t—”

Another sharp strike cut him off, his words turning into a choked cry as his cock twitched helplessly inside her. Fleur grinned, her movements becoming even more frenzied as she slammed her hips down in time with each strike.

His cum-drenched balls jiggled with each impact, the sticky fluid splattering onto the sheets beneath him as Fleur’s strikes came faster and harder.

“Fleur! It’s too much!” Martin screamed, his body thrashing beneath her. His arms flailed weakly, his hands gripping the sheets in a futile attempt to ground himself. “I can’t… I can’t take it!”

His entire body spasmed with each punch, his thighs quivering and his toes curling as the overwhelming sensations consumed him. Despite his desperate protests, his cock continued to twitch aggressively, with another large dribble of cum forced out down his shaft with each punishing strike.

Fleur’s breath hitched as she neared her climax, her moans growing louder as she rode him with wild abandon. Her hips slammed down onto him, her nails digging into his trembling chest as she delivered a final series of rapid, brutal strikes to his tender balls.

Martin’s screams grew louder, his voice breaking as his body arched off the bed. His abs rippled, the muscles contracting violently as his overstimulated cock twitched one last time, releasing a heavy, final spurt of cum. His legs kicked out wildly, his entire frame convulsing as Fleur’s relentless pace pushed him far beyond his limits.

With a final cry, Fleur was reaching her peak. Her hand now balled up into fist came striking down onto Martin's pump balls.

"ARGHH!!!" Martin torso arched up only to be pushed back down my Fleur's free hand. She held his chest in place whilst she frantically rode him whilst delivering brutal blows to his balls.

"MY BALLS FLEUR!! STOP PUNCHING ME IN THE BALLS!!" Martin legs kicked out and tried to thrash his body over but Fleur's hips pinned him in place. Her punches pounded down in rapid place in time with each thrust. “PLEASE STOP...HURTS...IT HURTS....STOP HITTING ME THERE...PLEASE!"

Every time Martin arched up Fleur would pin him down. The room was filled with Martin's cried and the sickening wet thuds of her fist slamming into his tender defenceless balls. Semen continued to pour from his cock with each impact, pooling beneath him in sticky streams that drenched the sheets. His legs kicked weakly, his toes curling as the relentless stimulation pushed him past his limits.

Finally after a few dozen punches she reached her climax. Her body shuddering as reaches behind and grabs onto Martin's now bruised balls.
"ARGGGGGHHH!!!!" Martin screams as her hands grip on his balls like an iron vice. Fleur can feel his meat squish between her palm like she is squeezing a lemon. "MY BALLS!!! YOU"RE CRUSHING THEM!!!" Martin finally able to arch up and choke out. 

She rides out her orgasm, feeling Martin's cock pulsate inside her. She squeezed his balls harder causing him to scream out till he chokes with no more air coming out of his lungs. The longer she squeezes the more intense her orgasm lasts. Martin finally collapses onto her, retching drooling onto her chest. Fleur starts squeezing his balls like it's a pump and causes Martin to involuntary spasm with every squeeze. His cock pulsates out his remaining cum down his still rock hard cock onto his balls still being gripped by her hands. 

Fleur finally reaching her deserved orgasm. Pats Martin on his sweaty back and pushes him back down on the bed. Martin's barely conscious body bounces on the bed with his arms flailing to his sides. Martin’s heaving chest, her breath ragged and her body trembling with satisfaction. Beneath her, Martin lay utterly spent, his chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as his tight muscles twitched uncontrollably.

The bed beneath them was utterly soaked, the sheets clinging to Martin’s sweat-drenched back as the evidence of his repeated climaxes pooled around them. His entire body was trembling, his muscles flexing and twitching uncontrollably as he endured Fleur’s relentless assault. Martin whimpered and convulsed  softly, his body too exhausted to do anything else. Fleur smiled to herself, tracing a finger down his damp chest, "ready for my round two Martin?"

----

EPILOGUE

Fleur stood at the end of the bed still on the wave of the best orgasm of her life, admiring the handy work she laid on her man. Martin limp sweat soaked body sprawled across the damp bed. His chest expanding up and down in now gentle breathes, with an occasional groan and mutter.

Between his legs, his proud erection still stood hard and tall still even after the forced climaxes ripped out from him. The skin now red raw, glistened with it being covered in a sheen of his semen, dribbling down to his bruised miss coloured balls. Martin's balls were still surprising plump from all the beating and milking. Underneath him a unmistakable patch of his drained repeated climaxes pooled under him, soaking the isolated batch on the bed a darker damp tone. The room smelt of sweat, sex and Martin's cum drenching the air.

Fleur was in a daze, finally getting all her sexual frustration out on Martin, after all his rabbit jack hammering 'sex' he thought he was so good at. Fleur reached out and grabbed Martin's balls, causing an automatic gripe out of him. She wasn't even gentle handling them, it was like as if though she was dissociated that they were the most sensitive part attached to a man. She rolled each sticky orb between her thumb and fingers, pinching and pressing down the plum stretching the skin. She admired the purple bruising and the shades of colours she had caused by her repeated pounding on them.

She let out a smirk whilst Martin wheezed and grunted, and let the balls flop back on the bed. 'That was the best orgasm of my life' Fleur thought, 'the way his dick felt inside me whilst I grabbed his balls,' she quivered just from the thought of it. 'and it was all to do with those plums.' Fleur wanted to reach that orgasm again but needed something rougher to get her off now she had tasted the aggression.

She sat on Martin's chair next to his bin full of his cum tissues to think when she noticed something in the corner. Leaning on the wall next to Martin's 7 filled condoms was another stiff object. Martin's hockey stick. Martin was an energiser bunny in bed and on the field, he would be smashing balls up and down the pitch running around with boundless energy.

A wicked smile grew on Fleurs face as he got up to grab it. She lifted it up to her face, examining its solidity, and smacked it against the baseboard with a thud. 'This will do', she thought.

She went over to Martin's semi-conscious stretched body and stood up on the bed. She kicked his legs wider apart and stood over one leg, to give herself a wider, bigger space for the target. She lined up the hockey stick like she was going to play golf with it. She lined it directly, that if she took a swing it would land directly into Martin's balls. Martin was still in too much pain to realise the further devastation she was going to inflict on his manhood. His dick still stood stiff as a board like the hockey stick impressively as she prepared her strike.

Fleur couldn't wait to see how this would feel and bit her lip in anticipation.
"Martin?...Marrrrtin?" she teased trying to get him to stir a little at least. Martin let out a murmur, not sure if was in response. "Say goodbye to your balls..."

With that Fleur raised the hard hockey stick over her head and brought it down with an ungodly might smashing it into Martin's plump balls!

"ARRGGGGGHH!!!" Martin arched awake finding a hockey stick wedged into his nuts. Instant tears filled his eyes. His whole face strains, with the veins on his neck popping and angry red. He starts chocking on his screams, running out of air. His hand try to cup his balls but his muscle to seize from all the pain to protect them properly.

Fleur smiles and lets out a teasing laugh. The ecstasy of seeing Martin getting hurt in the balls had become the only thing able to get her off. Martin still hunched gets kicked back down by Fleur with her foot, lying back down with his back on the bed. Without hesitation she raises the hockey stick high above her head again and slams it down on Martin's nuts catching even his dick this time.

"HUHH!!!" Martin let out with the little air he could grunt out, barely able to catch his breathe. He thrashed around as much as he could being paralysed in pain from his crotch. His body strained and face turned red. He spluttered and coughed, retching like he is almost gonna throw up.

A wave of sensation washed over Fleur as she heartedly laughed. "You sound like a frog' she mocked. Martin continued to retch and dry heave, with his arms clawing Fleur's leg holding him in place and anything he can grab to pull himself away from the pain. "Fleur....no...stop...pain.." Martin coughed, trying to make a coherent sentence.

His words fell on death-ears as all Fleur was doing was admiring his toned muscular slim body writhing underneath her. Without missing a beat she raised his own hockey stick above her shoulder again. Martin's eye widen, pleading, unable to speak through the retches. The force of the stick head smashed in-between Martin's leg so hard the bed jolts forward from the ground.

"ARGH-HUH-HUHH!!!" Martin wails as his whole body arches up only to slam back down. Martin body shudders like a like a fish flapping out of water. Fleur had slammed his hockey stick so hard into his balls it literally forced the cum out of them. Ropes and ropes of Martin's thick hot semen squirts out of him like a broken hose. The force was so powerful it almost reaches the ceiling, spraying over him to coat the headboard and wall in a thick layer of his man cream.

Fleur stood shocked and stunned only to let out a full blown laugh of amusement. She watched as Martin cried and retched as his cock sprays everything in the room. She took this chance to continually ram his hockey stick more rapidly into his nuts. Again and again she would bring down the wood onto his orbs. Martin anguishly cried at every strike. Each strike would send a fresh wave of cum out of his hard cock. This cum was streaking and coating everything. The walls in all directions were dripping in his white fluids. The clothes on the floor were sprayed and drenched. His own torso and face was covered with a pool of his cum. The more she struck the more semen would pump out. She pulled the hockey stick back and a web of cum would stretch from it being raised from his balls. The stick head would be dripping in Martin's own jizz.

Even with the amoun Martin can cum, Fleur was impressed by the amount a single man could produce. Fleur now set her sights to Martin's dick. She would slam the hard cock like a game. Trying to get the cum to spray every corner of the room. "My cock..." Martin managed to chock out. She would hit the cock to the left then hit his cock to the right, spraying the whole room in a coat of hot cum. His cock was so hard still it would just spring back in attention ready for it's next hit.

Martin croaked twisting whatever direction his cock was being hit in. Fleur then raised the hockey way above her head like a hammer and swing it so hard like she was going to smash a watermelon. She aimed directly on top of Martin's cock causing it to bend in a weird position, what followed after was the sound of a SNAP and a POP! Fleur had snapped Martin's penis and popped his balls in one swoop!

"ARRRGHHHhhhhhh...!!!" Martin whole body arched up, dripping is cum everywhere. In a instant his scream cut off as he collapses and passes out. He body doesn't even convulse anymore, he is out cold. His eyes rolls to the back of his head, with the veins on his neck and abs still pulsating. His body and room is dripping in his own cum, every inch coated and drenched. His raw dick, standing so tall even though all the assaults now snapped and broken, with his balls also finally being turned into empty sacks of mush. Fleur quivered in orgasm, not even touching herself, as she watches her broken man's cock finally turning soft and limping. The bruised purple cock flopping to the side, dripping out Martin's ever final load like a leaky tap down his thighs.