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Tidy this up.
Make it more readable

http://www.kramtoad.com/k-cgi-bin/xmlboard.cgi?board=Contest4&action=read&id=95

 

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For a moment, Jason thought the light reflected by the rain
gauge belonged to a car on the nearby highway---A headlight peering
through the trees as a car rounded the bend. The song of crickets
and cicadas was uninterrupted, however, as he finished checking
percipitaiton. As he stood from his crouching position, soft yellow
light bounced off the weather gauge again. Jason turned to the
wooded area behind him.
Not again, he thought. Not tonight. The flashlight could have
belonged to some fellow science students, making late-night
obersvations on nocturnal weather patterns, or perhaps a couple
frollicking in the woods. But somehow Jason knew better. Like a
storm chaser following a funnel cloud, he knew that conditions were
probable for trouble.
Grabbing his log book, he moved quickly away, trying not to
be noticed. He was careful not to run, fearing that it would draw
attention to him. Instead, he
crossed the field with long strides, paying careful attention not to
step on anything that would make noise.
That was close, Jason said to himself, as he reached the
treeline, too damn close for comfort. Jason hurried through the
brush, making himself clandestined in the darkness of the adjacent
woods. He would have to take the long way home. He could barely see
the silhouette of large trees, let alone any sort of fallen limb or
overgrowth that may lay in his way. He moved forward, slowly careful
not stumble and fall. His hands were held like a blind man,
searching out what was in front of him.

It was slow manoeuvring, but he had a feeling the flashlight
men were far behind. Perhaps, they were searching aimlessly. Maybe
they'll get bored and go away, Jason thought.
He had gone a little ways when he unknowingly set his foot
down on a stick.
The cracking sound seemed to echo through the woods. Jason
hesitated, trying not to make anymore noise than he already had.
Maybe it's not that loud, he said to himself. Maybe it just seems
that loud to me.
Hey, man. Someone's over there, he heard a panty voice
call. It sounded a lot like Troy Schaffer. I can hear him moving
around.
Damn, it's the Delta Phi boys, Jason said to himself. But
how many of them? He struggled to keep his composure. He thought he
had gained more ground---That they were a good ways behind him,
still working their ways across the field. When he heard Troy,
however, he realized they were perhaps thirty yards away.
Are you sure? Greg Yeary's voice cut through the
darkness. I didn't hear anything.
I'm positive. He's over there. I heard him.
Oh, dear God. I'm going to die out here, Jason said to
himself, as his heart began to pump violently. Images of frat
brothers standing over his badly beaten body began racing through
his mind. They'd tie him to a tree, gag him so he couldn't yell,
and take turns seeing who could do the most damage.
The pounding in his chest was so loud, he hardly noticed the
sound of approaching footsteps. Stay still, he told himself. Stay
still and low to the ground and may the won't see you.
Over in there, Troy said. Jason noticed the beam of the
flashlight pass above him.
Just look around, man. He can't be far, Greg said.
Man, are you sure wanna fucking do this? Jason noticed
Shawn Jennings voice
Yeah, we gotta fucking do this, man! No one breaks the
fucking rules on...
There, Dan Sharp interrupted. I think I see him.
As the light fell on Jason's red jersey, he knew he had been
found. Without a moment's hesitation, he sprang to his feet in a
flurry and began tearing through the weeds like a mad man.
It's him! Get that mother fucker!
Run. Run. Run. To the field... Get to the field... His mind
was going into overdrive as he fought his way toward the field. He
could feel thistle and thorns scraping across his legs. If I can
just get the field, I got the advantage. Ain't no one within five
hundred miles that can catch me on open ground.
Just ahead, he could see where the trees thinned out and
the field was on the other side. Jason broke into a hard sprint, but
he had hardly gone a few strides when he felt something ---perhaps a
fallen tree limb-- stop the movement of his foot. He came crashing
to the ground.
Get that motherfucker! Get him! The men were on top of him
before he could even get his hands out.
A pair of hands dug into the back of his shirt. Another pair
wrapped tightly around his left armit bruising grip sunk ddeply
into his bicep. Despite his passive resistance, they forced him to
his feet. A third set of hand grabbed hold of his right arm.
Leave me alone, Jason groaned, as the flashlight lit up
his face. Fear spilled from his mysterious blue eyes, as they held
him up against a tree. He gasped to catch, as the frat brothers
looked him over---Something that wonder out of a Calvin Kline.
advertisement.
Why are you doing this? he asked, as he tried to look
around. There
were three guys standing in front of him, including the one with the
flashlight.
Three sets of hands were holding him up. All six of them jocks and
football players.
Shut the fuck up, Hall. Jason recognized the voice of
Greg Yeary, president of Delta Phi Omega. Greg handed the flashlight
to Troy Schaffer, who was standing to his left.
Look guys, I don't want any...
Jason noticed the ferocity in Greg's face as he lunged
forward, throwing his knee into Jason's stomache. Jason made a
muffled groan as the air was forced from his lungs.
I thought I told you to shut the fuck up! If you'd keep
your fucking mouth shut, we wouldn't have to do this.
Tears began to roll down Jason's face, as he looked up at
Greg. He remained silent, but the expression on his face said: Why?
Why are you doing this to me?
We trusted you motherfucker! We let you in! We called you a
fucking brother, man, Greg ranted. And now all over campus... All
over this fucking town... Do you know what they say?
Jason's head turned slowly from side to side.
Troy, tell him. Tell him what they say about Delta Phi.
Jason saw the hurt in Troy's face. Troy hung his head, a
mutter escaped his lips.
Say it again, yelled Greg. I don't think he heard you.
They say Delta Phi Omega has queers in it.
Greg stepped forward, staring into Jason's face. Do you
know what they feels like?
Jason remained silent, as Greg towered over him---A six-five
hawking specimen of a man. He placed his hands on Jason's
shoulders. It feels like this! Greg brought his knee up so hard
and swift into Jason's balls that it lifted him a couple of inches
off the ground. Jason's balls began to ache at once, as he let out a
a cry. He could feel his legs becoming rubbery beneath him as
nauseua moved through his stomache.
Shut up!!! screeched Greg, as he threw a punch that
knocked Jason's head sideways. Liquid fire spilled across Jason's
cheeck has Greg's solid iron fist drove the inside of Jason's mouth
into his teeth. Blood spewed out at once. A quick left jab followed
that caught Jason's eye, forcing his head back against the tree.
Another right caught landed in his solo plexus, knocking out the
little wind that he had regathered. Before letting go, Greg drove
one more knee into Jason's balls. Greg held his knee in Jason's
crotch for a moment, grinding his Jason's genitals. Greg could feel
Jason's penis flop across the top of his leg as one ball rolled to
either side of his knee cap. Jason's mouth gaped open like a fish.
Soft gaps escaped but nothing more.
Greg took a step back. Jason legs were bucking but three
frat brothers were still holding him up by his arms. Greg looked
over at Troy and nodded.
The scene went momentarily dark as Troy drew the heavy
flashlight up in the air like a golf club. A yellow streak carved
through the air with a whooshing sound. A sound like a tennis ball
connecting with a wiffel ball bat was heard as the flashlight sailed
into Jason's balls. Jason's knees came together, as he let out a
scream that echoed through the woods.
My turn, said the Shawn, as he charged forward throwing a
wild punch that landed just below Jason's eye. Images of policemen
searching the woods with dogs and coming upon the scene of his body
began rushing through Jason's head. I'm dead already, he thought.
It's just a matter of time.
Shawn and Troy were about to swing again when a voice
callled out that stopped them in their tracks. That's enough guys.
The tone was so matter-of-fact and direct that Jason thought it
belonged to one of the men holding him up. It was forceful and
declarative.
Who the fuck are you? Greg asked as he started toward the
approaching shadow of a man. As the flashlight angled on Greg, the
face of Derek Hartly became visible.
Got a lot of balls little dude, said Greg, as charged
toward Derek. Derek was much smaller--- A blonde-haired blue-eyed
minion at five nine, one hundred and fifty pounds.
Greg through a punch that was interrupted by a sharp block
and counter punch into Greg's armpit. Greg's arm appeared to go limp
after the shock to the nerve center. Derek made a sudden sweeping
motion, taking Greg's feet out from under him. As Greg fell on his
back, his legs sprawled in the air. Derek grabbed a hold of Greg's
right leg, pulling up on his while he stamped his heel down into
Greg's crotch. Greg moaned until Derek lifted his foot and sent a
snap kick in Greg's jaw that knocked him out cold.
Dennis Haulsman, Dan Sharp, and Ken Sluter let go of Jason,
as Troy and Shawn stormed toward Derek. As Troy came brandishing the
flashlight toward the Derek, he stepped to the side, catching Troy's
arms and throwing him to the ground. Derek shot off a round house
kick that landed aside Troy's head, as Shawn reached around trying
get him in a headlock. Troy was staggering, dizzy and unable to
help Shawn. Derek took a step to the side with his left foot,
lowering himself into a stance that looked like he was riding a
horse. This left Shawn's body open, so he through an elbow into
Shawn's solo plexus before slamming his open palm down into his
balls. Derek's fingers dug into Shawn's sac grasping them tightly.
Let go of me, Derek said calmly, but Shawn was still being
stubborn with his headlock. So, the man threw up a backfist punch up
that broke Shawn's nose, sending a stream of blood into the air. As
Shawn fell back, Derek slapped his balls once more, caught Shawn's
right arm, and forced him to the ground.
The three remaining men were already charging forward.
Dennis Haulsman,
a lineback, was ahead of Dan Sharp and Ken Sluter. Dennis moved as
if he were going to tackle the man, but as he approached Derek
leapt into the air, firing
a single side kick. A heel came crashing against Dennis's head that
knocked him out on his feet.
Dan and Ken grasped a hold of the Derek's shirt, like they
were going to pull him to the ground. He stood, facing them. Since
they were within arms reach,
his right hand dug into Ken's testicles and his left hand into his
Dan's. His fingers curled tightly around them, like he was holding
up two dumb bells. Dan and Ken began to squeal and squirm, but they
held on stubbornly at first. So, the man twisted each fist to the
insde, as if he were switching from standard curl to reverse curl.
Simultaneously, he was tugging upward on the testicles. Squawking,
they let go at once.
Very good, said. Then, he tugged Ken forward close enough
so that he could smash his forehead into Ken's nose. As Derek let go
of Ken's testicles, Ken fell to the ground. Derek brought his right
fist down on top of Dan's testicles which were still twisted and
trapped by the man's left hand. Dan went out like a light, as Derek
looked over his shoulder.
Troy was staggering to his feet, as Derek came around with a
back-spin kick that connected with Troy's ribs. Troy clutched as
ribs and stooped forward. Derek stepped forward, throwing a ridge-
hand strike into Troy's groin. As Troy's mouth gaped open, Derek
finished him with a roundhouse kick to the side of his head.
Derek heard the muffled sound of sobs behind him. He spun
around at once, half-expecting another attacker. Instead, there was
Jason, writhing, barely conscious against the tree trunk. His hands
were cupping his groin.
Jason! Derek shrieked, as he rushed to his side.
My balls, muttered Jason....
 

Derek heard the muffled sound of sobs behind him. He spun
around at once, half-expecting another attacker. Instead, there was
Jason, writhing, barely conscious against the tree trunk. His hands
were cupping his groin.
Jason! Derek shrieked, as he rushed to his side.
My balls, muttered Jason. My balls. My balls.
Derek knelt over Jason, studying his face. Blood was
running out his mouth and his left eye was beginning to swell shut.
Derek noticed that Jason was trembling.
Jason, what's wrong?
I think I'm gonna be sick, groaned Jason, still clutching
his groin. I got my balls smashed by that flashlight.
Derek glanced down at Jason's crotch, notcing how the fabric
seemed strained.
Jeez, Jason, Derek gasped, as he reached for Jason's belt buckle.
Reflexively, Jason tried to sit up.
Relax, Derek reassured, placing his left hand caressingly
against Jason's chest. Just sit back. I'm certified in first aide.
How did you know I was in trouble? asked Jason, as Derek
unfastened his belt buckle and pushed his cupped away from his
balls.
Jason noticed the embarrassment on his face.
Jeez, you have a firm ab, Derek quickly changed the
subject, as his knuckles pressed against Jason's flesh to undo the
button. Do you work out a lot?
I try to, replied Jason, as Derek unzipped his fly. I do
a little bit of modelling. It helps to stay in shape.
Derek appeared astonished as he opened Jason's pants and saw
his red bikini underwear. As he moved pulled down his underwear, it
was obvious that Jason's testicles were badly swollen. Each was
roughly the size of a peach.
Jason winnced as Derek began handling his testicles, moving
them around, checking for damage. I think they're okay, said
Derek. Just a lot of swelling. Let's get some ice on them.
What about my dick? asked Jason, glancing down at his
penis.
It's uh... Derek paused, smiled, and looked into Jasons's
eyes. It's more than alright. Terrific actually.
You think?
Derek nodded, as he moved his hands to Jason's face. The
swelling around his eyes was of little concern. It would go down.
The biggest concern was blood coming from his mouth. Derek's left
hand slid behind Jason's neck, helping to support his head. His
right ran along Jason's jaw, feeling for damage. His thumb pressed
against his lip.
Open up, said Derek.
Derek held Jason's head in hands, as he stared into his
mouth. Some minor cuts, he observed. I don't think they will
require stitches.
Jason closed his mouth and tried to sit up. His balls were
still hanging out his open fly. Ohhh! Jason winced, as his balls
pressed against his underwear.
Are you going to be able to walk? asked Derek.
If I can get my balls packed okay, replied Jason.
Maybe these things fit to tight for all the swelling,
suggested Derek, removing a pocket knife.
What are you going to do with that? Jason cringed, as
Derek approached his crotch with the knife.
Relax, babe, said Derek. I'm just going to cut the
waistband. He made careful cuts through the sides of his underwear.
Then, he pushed his knees apart, so that his groin would have more
room.
This may hurt a bit, Derek warned, as he cupped Jason's
balls. He then tugged on his underwear, so that they slid between
his legs in one piece. He then wadded the underwear and threw them
against the tree.
Jason moaned as Derek's hand grazed against his penis. He
let go of his balls and tried to position them delicately in his
jeans, as he laid his penis on top of his swollen balls.
This may be a little uncomfortable, said Dererk, as he
gingerly zipped Jason's fly, careful that nothing got caught. We
can't walk out of here with your dick hanging out... Or at least we
shouldn't.
You never did answer me, muttered Jason.
What that? replied Derek, as he moved to help Jason to his
feet. He slid an arm under Jason shoulder and grasped his right hand
with the other.
How did you know I was out here like this? And in trouble?
Jason wrapped his arms around Derek, and began to pull himself up.
He could feel the strength of Derek's arms as he lifted.
I... uh... I've been... he looked into Jason's eyes, as he
hobbled to his feet. I've been watching you.
You mean tonight? Jason appeared confused.
Tonight. Last night. The night before. Every night. I can
see when you pass by my window. And I... Derek was feeling
embarrassed.
It's okay, Derek, replied Jason. I look at you sometimes
too.
I have to drop everything, continued Derek. I don't know
why. I mean I know why. Look at you. Even tonight, with blood
dripping down your shirt and you're eye swollen shut, you're
gorgeous. I have a thing for you.
The scent of Jason's cologne nearly sent Derek into a dream
world, as Jason pulled him into his embrace. What did you ever say
so? Why didn't you ever come over talk with me?
I was afraid, replied Derek.
You! Afraid? After what you did tonight, I can't imagine
you be afraid of anything.
I was a fraid you wouldn't feel the same way about me that
I feel about you, said Derek.
Though pain was shooting through his face, Jason forced a
smile. He continued to lean against Derek for steadiness, as Derek
led the way out of the woods.
Come along, he said. We need to get some ice on your balls.

Safe here, thought Jason, as the door swung open at the
Jackson Street apartment. Safe behind the strong door of a... What
the hell is Derek? A poet of motion... that kind of fluid quickness
that move like a reflection in water.
A sigh, followed by a deep breath. Something very relaxing.
It was easier to fill his lungs. The air was somehow thinner. He was
with Derek. And who the hell was Derek? A one man Marine landing.
One way or another Jason didn't have to run anymore.
As Jason slid from his grip, Derek lit up with the sort
assured confident smiles that sell toothpaste and shaving cream. It
spoke sentences without saying a word. You're safe here, my friend.
Come hell or high water. You're going to be okay.
Jason fell back on the black leather sofa. His legs remained
sprawled, careful not to add pressure to his swollen balls.
Nonetheless, he let out a groan, as his testicles bounced against
the cushion.
Derek hunkered down by him, placing a hand against his
chest. He could feel his heart beating wildly. The back of his left
slid against his cheek, feeling his flesh---clammy and feverish.
Studying him carefully, their eyes met. Jason could read concern in
his face.
"What's wrong?" asked Jason, as Derek brushed a trickle of
sweat away from his eye.It seemed to Jason that the world around him
was racing in a blur of motion and color. Everything was going too
fast---spinning out of control and he couldn't slow it down.
"Nothing," muttered Derek. "A little bit of shock. You need
too..." Derek
forced himself to look away. He rose from the sofa and started
toward the kitchen. "Who were those guys anyway?"
"You mean the thugs that did this to me?" Jason followed
Derek with his eyes.
"Yeah, those bastards," replied Derek, as he disappeared
into the kitchen. Bitter conctempt was discernible in his voice.
Jason could hear the sound of the freezer door opening and
an ice tray being removed. "I was in their fraternity," he called.
"And this is how they treat all their brothers?" Derek's
voice spilled from the kitchen, above the sound of ice cubes being
plucked from a tray.
"All the brothers who are like me," replied Jason, as Derek
returned with a couple of bags of ice.
"Like you? You mean devastatingly good-looking?" asked
Derek, with a smile. He sat down by his side and coaxed him to lean
back and relax.
"I mean gay," replied Jason.
"Didn't they know you were gay when you pledged?" asked
Derek, unzipping Jason's jeans and placing an ice pack against his
swollen balls. Jason winced as cold fire broke loose in his groin.
"Uh-uh. No. It was such a crazy time. I'm not even sure if I
knew myself at the time. I mean on some level I knew, but..." Jason
sat forward, changing the subject. "Shouldn't we call the police?"
"I can call them if you want, but I doubt it will do any
good," replied Derek. He continued to hold ice against Jason's
balls with his left hand, while his right held ice to his face.
Jason's hands were folded on top Derek's left hand, as he gently
massaged his balls. "The fuzz in horse-shit college towns like this
don't exactly count cracking down on homophobes as a priority.
They'll just fill out a report and you'll get lip service."
"What else can I do?" asked Jason.
"Until the world changes... And I don't look for that to
happen any time soon, you can constantly run to call the police. And
the police can't really protect us. Can they?"
Jason turned his head from side to side.
"We must learn to protect ourselves," continued Derek. "We
live in a society that encourages people not to take responsibility
for themselves on every possible level. We say well society will
take of us, when in reality there is no such thing. There is no
collective group of people to act with your best interest in mind.
How could the? There are simiply 'other people'. You must be your
own last resort."
"That's easy for you to say," replied Jason. "We're not all
black belts in... whatever the hell that was you did tonight. What
was that? Karate?"
"A little bit of everything," said Derek. "Karate, Kung Fu,
Brazilian Jujitsu. A little Aikido. All that's martial arts
though. You don't need any of that to take care of yourself."
"Man, you were a bad ass tonight," marvelled Jason. "Do you
think you can teach me some of that?"
"Maybe," replied Derek. "It will take at least four years to
earn a black belt, more likely six. All that's martial arts though.
You can learn self-defense much quicker. Besides, I saw a black belt
get ass whipped one time by a Chinese kid in biker shorts. He could
stop the little shit from punching his balls."
"So, what happened?" Jason's face lit up with curiosity.
"This little shit got him down and pounded on his groin for
fifteen minutes or so," answered Derek. "For a minute, I thought he
had ruptured one, but the little boys are resilient. Lots of
swelling though. So much worse than this." Derek rattled the icepack
which was against Jason's balls.
Jason groaned a little as the pain seemed to reawaken.
"A little bit of training goes a long way though," said
Derek. "If you're not used to it, the surprise of getting hit in the
balls is as bad as being hit itself. And it's kind of scary because
you don't know what's happening to you. It's really psychological."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there are more devastating targets actually than the
groin, but when you punch a man's balls, you're really punching him.
Ya know, it's like you can punch a man in the arm and you're
punching his arm. You can kick a man in the leg and you're kicking
his leg. But when you punch a man in the balls, it's like so much of
his
perceived value, his pride, his manhood is right there. And smack!
Not only are you busting his balls but you're busting his ego. Ya
know?"
Jason nodded. "I guess. To be honest with you, I've never
hit a guy like that before."
"Really? Never?" Derek slid his hand from the icepack and
stood up slighty. He took a few steps forward and began removing his
jeans.
"What are you doing?" the excitement was audible in Jason's
voice.
As Derek, turned toward Jason, he was pushing the elastic
band of his underwear past his knees. A soft smacking sound was
heard, like the sound of raindrops on awnings as Jason's cock
bounced back and forth, bouncing against
his thighs. Two Grade A Large testicles were visible behind the
dangling cock. Hypnotized, Jason's mouth fell open.
"I want you to make a fist," asserted Derek, as he hunkered
over Jason.
"Wh-what?" Jason looked at him dumbfoundely.
"Make a fist," order Derek.
Jason fingers curled tightly as he asked "what for?"
"I want you to punch my balls." Derek's face lit up with a
smile.
"You want me to just punch your balls?"
"Yes, Jason. I want you to punch my balls. How can you punch
a man's balls in a fight if you can't punch my balls here when I'm
standing still?"
Nervously, Jason leaned forward, his fist moving slowly
forrward like he was doing a slow-mo scene in a moving. Softly, his
knucles pressed into Derek's
naked balls.
"Oh, what the hell is that?" Derek laughed. "I said punch
me. Really punch me. Punch..."
Jason's fist flew forward in a flurry, blasting into Derek's
balls. A squishing sound was heaerd as his balls smashed against his
pubic bone.
Jason let out a soft groan and stooped forward slighlty. He
crouched, re-enforcing his posture by placing his hands on his
knees.
Jason's eyes filled filled with concern as he looked over
Derek, struggling to compose himself.
"I'm okay," groaned Derek. "I'm quite used to this. How did
it feel?"
"It felt good."
Derek stumbled to the couch and sat down by Jason, clutching
his groin. Jason removed an icepack from his face, sliding it down
between Derek's hands.
"Here let me," whispered Jason, as he held the pack against
Derek's balls.
Derek's left hand slid on top of Jason's, helping to hold the back
against his balls.
His right hand moved to help Jason hold Jason's pack against his.
"You know I think we should...
 

"Here let me," whispered Jason, as he held the pack against
Derek's balls.
Derek's left hand slid on top of Jason's, helping to hold the back
against his balls.
His right hand moved to help Jason hold Jason's pack against his.
"You know I think we should..." Jason's voice trailed off,
as his thoughts seem to spiral. I don't think it's shock, he thought
to himself, as his heart continued to sputter in his chest. It's
you, Derek. Street-legal ecstasy, all carved out like a toy soldier.
"Should what?" Derek leaned against him, half-snuggling,
eager to hear his thoughts.
"I don't know. I'm really attracted to you, Derek. You're
someone I'd really like to get to know. Maybe we could start
training together or something. Or maybe..." Jason stared into his
eyes, lost in thought. Perhaps modeling for a Greek art project, or
wrestling across the floor, held tightly together.
"I'd do anything with you," replied Derek, his voice
becoming soft. He too found a strange and seductive chemistry about
Jason. As a model, he definitely had the physical appeal, but it was
so much deeper than that. It was more than Derek could rest his eyes
upon.
Anything? Where would you stop? Jason wondered.
"So, what's the first thing I need to learn?" asked
Jason. "Go strait for a man's balls?" He jiggled Derek's icepack in
his hands, causing him to groan a little. "Well, that's one
way," Derek replied with a smile but his voice was strained. A wince
on his face suggested his balls hurt. "Kenpo, in particular, goes
for the balls a lot."
"A lot of ball busting?" Jason's voice rose with excitement.
He began contemplating long, exhausting training sessions, where
Derek would handle his testicles, teaching him all sorts of ancient
Chinese and Japanese secrets. All the while Derek would witness form
and composition, the male body, an expose in Greek art work.
"Edward Parker, father of modern kenpo, believed in focusing
on what works. Very direct," Derek explained with the tone and
cadence of a college professor, extrapolating modern history.
"So, how many different techniques are there for busting a
man's balls?" asked Jason, subconsciously rattling the ice pack
against his crotch.
Derek reclined slightly, thinking. "It's hard to say. You
know I've never really counted. How many different ways is there to
punch a guy in the face? Ya know? It's kind of like that. There
isn't really one way. It depends on how creative you want to be."
An erotic art film was playing in Jason's imagination.
Derek, of course played the lead. You want creative? The character
in Jason's film asked. I'll show you creative. I'll show you every
curve and angle, every swirl of color. Deeper than thatthe kind of
art a blind man appreciates. The kind you press against, sense the
texture of it. The heat.
"Well, what's the most unusual testicle technique you know
of?" asked Jason. He listened, but the movie still played in his
mind.
Derek's face began to glow as he thought back on a
particular technique.
"There's this kenpo technique--- a black belt technique--- called
Bowing to Buddha.
Quite devastating actually, but a wet dream come true."
"How's it done?" asked Jason.
"Well, it begins in a kneeling position, like you've been
knocked down fell to your knees. An attacker is coming at you with
mawashi geri."
"Mawashi geri?" asked Jason, but really thinking that he
wouldn't have to be knocked to his knees if he were up against
Derek.
"Oh, yes. It's a round house kick," replied Derek. "And you
move right, and you block the kick, using an inside-outside block.
If you can, trap the leg between. your arm and body...."
The naked form of Derek moved across the screen in Jason's
mind. Then, Jason saw himself, kneeling there, smiling. His body
shuddering as Derek's leg pressed against his body.
"Then deliver a right elbow into the groin, like an upward-
rising elbow. Then, follow that immediately with an open palm smack
to the groin, using your left hand. "
An image of Derek's testicles held gingerly in his hand
stopped in Jason's mind.
"The left hand stays there, cupping the testicles from
underneath. Your right fist raises in the air, draws up by your head
for maximum leverage, and you hammer fist down into your left hand."
"I thought you said the left hand is cupping the testicles,"
said Jason.
"Yes it does," continued Derek. "You want to sandwich the
testicles between the palm and your hammer fist.
In Jason' imagination, it was a closing shot, the kind that
ends a film. One final bit of action before fading to black.
"Fuck! So you intend on damn near killing the guy?" Jason
could barely contain the excitement in his voice.
"Well, it's definitely a winning technique," Derek
agreed. "Just be careful he doesn't vomit on you or pass out."
"Have you ever done that to anyone?" Jason came alive with
curiosity.
"Not all the way," answered Derek. "Of course you know I
bust balls, but I have only done the first part of that technique:
The elbow and the open palm. I've never sandwiched the testicles
like that. I would if necessary though."
"I bet you would," Jason smiled, as he closed his eyes and rested his head against Derek's shoulder. Moments later he could feel Derek's cheek, pressing against the top of his head. Their bodies were warm as they pressed against each other.
The living room became a distant thought about them as sleep drew near. Eventually, the ice packs fell away, and their arms drew around each other. It had been a long night and morning was a long time coming.
 

By Fraternity