View Full Version : The Panamanian Mania

07-06-2012, 01:04 AM
One day I was drunk and headed out to the football match. Before getting there I must have drank one bottle of Corona Extra Light. I was smashed!

The match went well and decided with my confidence and exuberance to hit on a couple of girls who were by the concessions stand. One was a dark skin Panamanian the other a tall brunette. We had a lot of fun talking and I had enough bravado to place a bet that my team would win.

I wagered a night out with them. They wanted forty kicks to my balls. I agreed, having a secret fetish, I thought it was an anti-Catch-22. Right? Wrong.

My team lost. My face would have described it without a doubt that my high had come down really fast. I looked away to the bathrooms and decided that I should find an escape. I moved fast towards the bathroom when I tripped on the Panamanian's foot.

"Nuh, uh, big guy! You have to pay up!" the Panamanian said.

"Since you caught him, you can kick him," said the brunette.

"Oh no, he's gonna get punished for trying to run away. Girl, you have longer legs, you kick him," she said.

"Thank you! Boy," she said looking at me, "You're going to wish you were a girl!"

First came a kick. Then another. Her kicking precision was about nine out of ten. After twenty kicks, I didn't think I could take any more. In the beginning it was funny. I would get kick and let out a laugh, involuntarily. But it got worse quickly. By the twenty-first kick, I was already starting to feel the nausea. It was slowly building, from my nuts to the base of my sternum, a pulsing wave of pain that felt stronger and stronger after each kick.

People all around us had seemed to take an interest on some level or another. There was a small group of guys who circled around us, whooping and yelling, encouraging the brunette.

I was in so much trouble. I think I would have taken forty hard shots from her friend, the Panamanian, easy because she had adorable size six feet. The brunette on the other hand had massive size ten feet and each time she kicked it was either with the top of her foot or the balls of her foot.

She would ask me:

"Did I hit or miss?"

And I would say:


Woe were the times I said missed. But she had. One time she hit my gooch and I was stupid enough to look at her, make eye contact, and smile.

That made her angry and she asked:

"Hit or miss?"

"Miss," I said.

"Then I have to give you an alternate," she said.

She got on her back and took off her shoes. Her barefeet were facing me when she said "Hop on."

I did. She pushed up with all her might and I blacked out.

I woke up later in a corner-- the stadium was empty! I looked at my hand and saw a number. Under that was the message: "You better call me, =3."

The End.

07-06-2012, 03:11 PM
Excellant.....I love to be kicked by women....!!!