Pics That I've Touched Myself To

The girls aren't weird, but some of my thoughts are.

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Is this tumblr still active? I always loved this one, but it’s been so long since anything new has been posted!

Thanks! I haven’t logged in here in awhile. I just fell out of the habit, I guess. Reading over the old entries, I remember how fun and freeing it was to write a lot of these.

I should come back. I think I will.

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Minor (Ballbusting) Threat

This happened twelve years ago and I’ve never forgotten it.

In college, I worked as a server in a cheesy corporate restaurant and when it was someone's birthday, we'd sing "Happy Birthday" to them. That meant getting other servers to help out, which was always annoying. It was worse when we were busy and no one could spare a few minutes. One time, the only servers who could sing with me were all girls.

"Oh man, I'm the only guy. My voice is going to really stand out," I said.

Then one of the girls (her name was Nicole) said, jokingly, "I could kick you in the balls and then you'll sing like one of the girls!"

INSTANT hard-on.

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(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7zybGGDW9fY)

The Legslavish girls just want to review hosiery, but here I am jerking off to it. 

I deserve a kick in the balls as punishment. Especially from Rebecca.

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(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G1-gTAnrEps)

Gotta admit, I’m bored with the endless Youtube videos of oblivious girls (many of them DISTURBINGLY TOO YOUNG) answering ballbusting questions from what she doesn’t realize is a sneaky fetishist troll. 

I’m also not into the “sex advice” Youtube videos from women who just learned about the ballbusting fetish yesterday, never intentionally hit a man in the nuts in her life and have more questions about it than insight.

For us ballbusting fiends, there’s been a void of women (in online video form, at least) who understand it, have done it and can talk about it with real authority. 

Enter professional kinkster Sydney Lee to fill that void like she fills a tight dress. Beautifully.

I love this video. It’s sexy because it’s a gorgeous, confident woman talking dirty, but its real charm comes from how she genuinely wants to share her knowledge. The ballbusting fetish is more popular than most of us think, but not many people will talk about it openly. So many men who like it are embarrassed. So many women are mystified by it. There are men who don’t know how to share this interest with their partners. Our communication about it is all dysfunctional (see the aforementioned ballbusting troll questionnaire videos).

Sydney Lee does her part here to help us move toward being a little more REAL.

I haven’t jerked off to the video, as it’s just her talking, but it does inspire a very jerk-able scenario.

BALLBUSTING 101. It’s a class. Our instructor, Ms. Sydney Lee sits atop her desk, lovely legs crossed and lectures. Both men and women attend, but the men MUST be tied up to their chairs, hands behind their back, arms and legs tightly fastened down, as soon as they sit (the ladies meanwhile are free to move as they please). After all, there WILL be ballbusting demonstrations during this lesson--and the men mustn’t be able to get away.

I’d never be late.

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In Praise of Leopard-Print Bikinis

It’s the Sexy Jungle Girl thing. That’s got to be it. A girl who wears a tiny little string bikini already looks wild. Throw some leopard spots on there and she looks even more free. We’re out of polite society and in a place where only the laws of the jungle apply. Be the biggest and best pervert that you can be. The lions and the monkeys and the trees don’t care.

Me, as a man with submissive fantasies, I think a Jungle Girl would probably have great use for a male slave. I’m always happy to serve, be kicked in the balls when she thinks I need discipline and be kept tied up when I’m not needed.

It’s one of my favorite looks. When I’ve spent too much time trying to figure out what that day’s Masturbation Inspiration should be, these pics are old standbys.

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Being Kicked in the Balls Vs. Childbirth: Which Hurts More? (The Question Finally Resolved)

(Script for a silly Youtube video. Feel free to steal it. I don't care. Just let me know. The photo above is completely unrelated; I just like it.) Her: Oh, please, childbirth is clearly more painful. Him: Uh, I don't think so. Women are ethusiastic about having kids. How many guys do you know are enthusiastic about getting his nuts crushed? Her: (roll eyes) Well, let me ask you something. Have you ever seen a vagina? Him: I have seen many vaginas. Her: And I assume you've also seen a baby? Him: Yes. Her: Okay, imagine that baby passing through one of those "many vaginas" that you've seen. Doesn't that look like it hurts? Him: Yes, but getting kicked in your jewels still hurts more. They did a study. Getting kicked in the testicles is 27,000 Del units of pain, which is the equivalent to stepping on thirty-eight Legos with your bare feet and then getting trampled by fifteen horses while being forced to listen to a Nickelback album. Her: "Del units"? Is that even remotely a real thing? That's just something you read on the internet. The only people talking about "Del units" are guys who want sympathy for getting kicked in the balls. No doctors or professors talk about "Del units". It's a fake statistic. Him: Okay, you asked me question earlier. Now I have a question for you. Have you ever kicked a guy in the balls? Her: Yes. Him: (Surprised) Really? Why? Her: Well, there was the guy at a bar last week who grabbed my ass, then there was that creep who kept staring at my boobs, and the guy who called me a bitch and then this one guy with a REALLY bad comb-over who tried to hit on me at-- Him: Okay, you can stop now. Her: Alright, but what was the point of that? Him: The point is that I'm now a little scared of you. I now know not to grab your ass, stare at your boobs, call you a bitch or hit on you if I ever have a bad comb-over because you'll kick me in the nuts. Her: You bet I will. Him: Okay so, by that logic, if a guy gets a girl pregnant, are you now scared of him? Her: What? That doesn't even make sense. This argument might be too hard for you. You may need to rest your head. I think I saw a pillow somewhere over there... (points off-camera) Him: Well, we need to resolve this debate. We promised. Her: I know how to resolve it. Him: How? Her: All you have to do is look up (points upward). Him: Look up? Are you serious? Her: Yes, look up. The answer is right up there. Him: Alright. (looks up at the ceiling) What am I supposed to be seeing? Her: (kicks him in the balls very hard) Him: (squeals in pain and clutches his poor manly parts) Her: So, do you feel like you won this debate? Him: (strained and squeaky voice, really hurting) No. Her: (smiles big, jumps with joy) Really? So, I won? Him: (nods, barely able to speak) Yes. Her: You were arguing just to argue, right? Clearly, I made more sense. Him: (face turning red, completely stunned, about to fall over) Yes. Her: You know, I really admire you right now. To admit that you're wrong definitely takes balls. Him: (moans, falls to the floor, curls up in a fetal position, cries) Her: (giggles) I knew you'd see things my way.

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Her: Let’s race downstairs.

Him: What are we racing for?

Her: The loser gets kicked in the balls.

Him: Wait, you don’t have balls.

Her: I guess I automatically win then (kicks him hard in the testicles).

Him: (drops to the floor moaning and shaking)

Her: (giggles)

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Him: That selfie is terrible!

Her: You still jerked off to it. Hush. (knees him in the balls)

Him: (in a high, trembling voice) Okay, you win.

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Her: Sex is sort of like food.

Him: How so?

Her: A pussy is a donut, a beautiful thing with a hole. It’s tempting and a little sinful. 

Him: (looks at her body, up and down) Makes sense to me.

Her: (catches him looking at her breasts) And boobs are melons, big, round and juicy. (winks at him) On some girls, at least.

Him: On some girls...

Her: And a dick is a piece of meat--a sausage, obviously--and is sinful in its own right. 

Him: What about balls?

Her: Oh, balls are eggs (hammers her fist down on his testicles).

Him: (goes bug-eyed, shakes and sputters in pain)

Her: (smiling) They’re so easy to break!

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Can you tell us the story of the first time you got kicked in the balls?

My first time was a punch, actually. It happened at school when I was 14. 

My class went to the auditorium to hear the principal talk about something or other. While we were all sitting down, a girl named Rachel walked up to me and swung her fist into my balls for no reason that I can remember. My reaction was to pretend like it didn’t hurt. Don’t embarrass myself, don’t cry, don’t even speak. Just sit and get through it. So that’s what I did. 

Meanwhile, it was UNBELIEVABLE how much it hurt. I didn’t hear a word that the principal said. Instead I spent that assembly frozen in my seat in shock, wishing that I could curl up somewhere and hoping that the wetness I felt in my eyes wasn’t actual tears. 

The teacher didn’t see a thing. A few kids saw what happened and laughed. Rachel got away with it.

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Her (girl in her best Power Girl cosplay): What’s the first thing you think about when you think about Power Girl?

Him: Can I be honest?

Her. Sure.

Him: Big boobs. She’s got really big boobs.

Her: Big boobs? Is that it?

Him: Yeah, that’s it.

Her: I bet I can make you think about something else.

Him: Like what?

Her: Like... (kicks him very hard in the balls)

Him: (moans loudly, drops to the floor, hands over his sac)

Her: (smirking) I bet you’ll think about that from now on.

Him: (writhes and whimpers in defeat)

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Her: So what did you think of the new STAR WARS film?

Him: It’s pretty good, but the girl hero was a bit much.

Her: What? How so?

Him: I’m really tired of all of the girls in action movies today. What happened to guys like Arnold Schwarzenegger and--?

Her: Well, that TERMINATOR movie last summer was awful. It bombed.

Him: Whatever. I just think that between all of the women in Marvel movies and--

Her: There haven’t been any female-fronted Marvel movies.

Him: Not YET, at least. I’m sure they’re coming. It’s the trendy thing now, even though it’s completely unbelievable.

Her: How is it unbelievable?

Him: Are you serious? No one believes girls being dominating like that. No one believes girls being strong like that. No one believes girls beating up guys like that. It’s just political correctness gone ma--

Her: (hammer-fists him very hard right in the balls)

Him: (gasping, high-pitched voice) --aaaa... (drops to his knees, face red and eyes wide with shock, holding his testicles, in a world of pain and looking very stupid)

Her: It sure seems believable to me.

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The latest Tweets from lotsoflamps (@lotsoflamps). Just some jerk-off who jerks off

Haven’t posted here in awhile. Maybe I’ll come back sometime. Meanwhile, I presently vent my love for breasts, butts, bikinis, skintight leggings and, especially, girls kicking guys in the balls on Twitter. It’s fun. There are cute girls there! They post selfies! They want to show the world the new bikini they just bought! You can follow them (just please don’t harass them)! They probably won’t follow you back, but, in my case, that’s probably for the best.

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I know that it's unusual for a man to look at a picture of a pretty girl dressed up as Red Sonja and stroke his pole to a fantasy of her kicking him in the balls and tying him up, but that's what I did this morning. 

It's our secret, okay?

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Jack's head came up exactly to Pam's breasts.

He was 5'5" of pale skin, saggy muscles and premature male pattern baldness.

She was 6'1" of firm and curvy showgirl proportions and a head of healthy flowing blonde hair.

Jack made a pass anyway. He bats out of his league all of the time. Every now and then, it works. 

She was on her way to her dressing room when he approached her.

"What are you doing after the photo shoot?"

"Just going home."

Pam walked her long legs right past him. Jack glanced down at the womanly swing of her rear end as she moved in an under-sized schoolgirl fetish outfit.

"Home? That doesn't sound like fun. You should hang out with me." He followed her.

"No thanks".

"We could have dinner."

"Not hungry."

"I just bought this new Mustang and it's--"

"Look," she said with roll her of her eyes, "leave me alone."

The tall girl spun around and kicked the little man in the balls with the power of a heavy swinging pendulum.

A big girl doesn't always know her strength. A guy doesn't always know it, either.

But now Jack had an idea. Getting kicked in the balls by the towering Pam was like being hit by a train. His testicles could have been completely flattened for all he knew. He was unaware of anything but the trauma between his legs and the way it rushed into his stomach. He wanted to yell, but nothing came out. 

He dropped to his knees. His head now came up to Pam's crotch. Jack might have enjoyed the view if he could see anything but his pain and inner panic.

Pam looked down at Jack and smiled. She put one hand on her hip and stroked his bald head with her other hand. He was bug-eyed and shaking, moaning wordlessly, frozen inside.

"Awww," she said, mock baby talk-style, to him. "You know what? You're actually kind of cute like this."

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"Want a cupcake?", Shayleen asked me. There was a tray of them on the porch table.

A cupcake wasn't even in the top five list of things that I wanted in my mouth at the moment. That list was entirely made up of parts of Shayleen's voluptuous body. Her form-fitting low-cut dress struggled to contain her breasts and it fought tightly for its life against her round hips and ski-slope backside. Shayleen caught me staring downward at least three times.

"Sure, I'll take a cupcake," I said. Can I eat it from between your big boobs, I thought to myself.

"Do you want one with crushed nuts?"

"Sure," I said mindlessly. Then I looked at the tray. "I don't see any with crushed nuts."

"Oh," Shaleen said, "the crushed nuts are right here."

As if to punctuate the sentence, Shaleen punched me square in the balls and then time sorta stopped for me. Her thin arms and little girl fist don't look like much, but against a man's testicles, they feel like a battering ram that can bring down iron doors. The pain was a world-shaking thunderclap that boomed between my legs, reverberated up into my stomach and prodded at my brain with anxiety over the blow to my fragile parts. I gasped at an embarrassing high pitch, sat up stiffly, clutched myself and felt tears form in my eyes. 

Shaleen giggled and relaxed in her chair. She took a bite of a cupcake.

Mean girl.

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Got a funny feeling in my pants the moment I saw this pic of Kelly Brook. She looks primed to humiliate a man. I wacked off to it in record time and popped out with a little ballbusting threat fantasy.

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Being beaten up by a girl isn't any less embarrassing when she's a superhero. Shadow Girl tied me up, gagged me and stripped me. She even pulled off my hairpiece ("How does a wealthy jewel thief like you have such a cheap toupee?", she said as she threw my hair on the floor while all I could do was wriggle in my bondage.) She also emptied my safe, stole my Escalade (with me in it, tied up in the back) and kicked me in the balls.

I've had better days.

She stopped the Escalade just off the desert road, in the middle of nowhere.

"We walk from here," Shadow Girl said. With tape over my mouth, I couldn't ask her where we were going.

She came to the back of the van where I was and untied the rope around my waist that held me to the seat and freed my ankles. She let my hands stay tied behind my back though, and she didn't untie the rope that wrapped around my chest and stomach and kept my arms down.

I stepped out of the van clumsily, off-balance due to being in bondage and still limping from that earlier kick in the nuts. I had no shirt, no pants and not even shoes. All I wore was a small pair of blue bikini briefs in which I toted a fierce bulge. I looked and felt ridiculous, but if we had a long walk ahead of us, being almost naked would make the desert heat more bearable. If I had nothing else going for me, I at least had that.

Shadow Girl looked very intently eastward into the unpaved desert. She seemed to be seeing something that I couldn't see. Some marker for a hidden hideout, maybe.

I took a quick peek at her long legs and her firm and curvy ass, hugged tight in a spandex leotard. 

"We walk that way. It should take us a few hours," she said.

Then, she looked back at me. She tugged at the ropes that held my arms and wrists, making sure that I was tied up tight. Satisfied that I was defenseless, she then looked straight into my eyes and said, "And if you give me any trouble at all--if I even think that you're trying to escape--I'm going to go right for your balls."

She pointed down at the bulge between my legs. An easy target.

"I'm not going to ask questions. I'm just going to kick you in the balls very, very hard. Understood?"

She gave me a firm one-fingered jab in the sac. I winced and nodded sincerely.

"Now, let's go."