I hail from a small Russian town, all the people of which were very fond of going to the bath-house every weekend. Saturday was the men's day and Sunday the women's. Up to the age of six I was performing my weekly ablutions on Sundays - my mother used to take me to the bath-house along with her and my younger sister. My story begins on a Sunday when I was already six and my younger sister just turned five. As usual Mom, my sister and I were going to visit the bath-house.

On our way from home to the bath-house, which lay through an aspen grove, I felt like taking a pee and told Mom about it.

"Just go up to that big tree," she said to me.

Having my bladder emptied, I rejoined Mom and sister who kept on walking along the path. Soon I heard my sister asking:

"Mom, why do Pete pee standing up and not like I do?"

"Because he has a wiener, like all boys."

"And when I'm grown-up, Mom, will I have a wiener too?"

"No, dear, you won't," Mom replied taking sister by her hand, "when you're grown up, you'll have a pair of beautiful breasts, but never a wiener. Girls don't have wieners."

"It's a pity," my sister sighed wistfully...

When in the bath-house and totally naked, I and sister, as usual, started frolicking and romping joyfully around. From the very early days when I first set my eyes on a naked woman (no doubt it happened in that bath-house) I always thought the female body to be very attractive. But that day I felt I possessed something important that no girl had and all girls might be somewhat envious of that thing. After all it was not bad at all to have something that all the others around could envy you and with such thoughts I decided to taunt my sister a little bit.

"Hey, Tina," I addressed her with a jeering smile upon my face, "I know you wanna have a wiener, like me, don't you?"

"No, I don't," she replied, standing opposite me.

"Yes, you do," I stated firmly, "but you'll never have one. And me, when grown-up, will have a big, big wiener, big like..."

I saw a plastic tube of shampoo laying on the wooden bench beside me. I grasped it and pressed it to my pelvic area, imitating a penis.

"Big like this." I exclaimed. "I'll have a wiener big and strong like this. Men have wieners and that's why they are stronger."

"And I'll tear it off from you then," Tina smiled and with a quick movement of her hand snatched the shampoo tube off me.

"Give it back to me!" I snapped angrily.

"Never!" and with the shampoo tube in her hand she skittered away from me. I darted after her and we started a chase among  and between the naked girls and women, along and round the wooden benches and shower booths. When I managed to catch up with her, I hugged my sister from behind and started grappling with her, trying to get the shampoo tube back from her. She raised the hand with the "plastic wiener" high above her head and with the other hand was trying to release herself from my grip around her body. All of a sudden she drove her swinging hand right into my groin...

I'd never been hit down there before. I'd hurt my knees, elbows, stomach, my buttocks, my shoulders before but never that little sac that hung beneath my little penis. And never before had I known a pain that could be compared with the one that I felt the very moment my sister's little hand sharply slapped my scrotum – that little skin sac that every boy has in addition to his wiener. Never had I have any idea that the two tiny orbs hanging in that sac were so sensitive. So sensitive as to let a girl’s tiny hand so easily make them explode with shocking pain. A sharp, stinging, unbearable kind of pain. 

"Oooooh!" I cried out and grasped my aching balls. Along with the pain, my legs got at once too weak to support my body and I first knelt down, holding my balls with both my hands, and then dropped onto the wet floor. By helpless clutching my testicles I tried to soothe the pain in them, but all in vain. Instead the pain spread high up into my stomach.

"My baaaaalls," I groaned. I knew those awfully aching things in my trembling hands were called balls but never before had I said that word aloud. Never had I paid much attention to my testicles and now I was too well aware of my possessing them. Just a slight slap with a small girl's hand granted them with such a pain as to render me absolutely helpless and one of my first thoughts, while holding my burning balls, was to give that kind of pain back to my sister, to make her grasp her own aching balls and fell down in the same painful shock. But my eyes, stuck to my sister's groin, at once sent to my mind the message - "she's no balls at all". Another second and I remembered I was the only one with a pair of balls in the whole bath-house. The only one with a wiener and balls.

The young girls of about my age gathered around me and some of them started giggling. Some of them had never seen a boy hurt his balls and they didn't understand why I was rolling on the floor, holding my hands between my legs and moaning something painful. I think they couldn't see my little testicles hidden in my hands. And there were their mothers and elder sisters who told them what I meant by groaning "my baaaalls" and how weak those things situated between every boy's legs were. And all through my pain I heard the girls laughing at me. Laughing at my balls, the balls they didn't have. The balls that made me lie down at their feet, unable to get up. I raised my painful eyes to see a row of legs towering over me. About a dozen of pairs. And nothing hung from between them. I enviously stared at my naked sister who merrily giggled at me and seemed to be proudly showing off her smooth groin to me. Damn, why didn’t my own groin look the same? Why didn't I have the thing all the girls had between their legs - that nice, cute slit instead of my boyish possessions. The possessions that could be so easily abused by any little girl.

Mom helped me to get to my feet. She was naked as all the other women and while she was picking me up from the floor, her pussy was so near my eyes. I remembered the dangling balls of my Dad, I'd seen them couple of times before, and I realized that when I grew up, I'd have those low-hangers and not the thing my Mom had, the thing I stared at as I stood before, holding my balls in one of my hands, while my other hand clutched her arm not let me fall down again. All the younger girls went on giggling as they watch me clutching my scrotum, my little wormie-penis nervously quivering over my hand. And whenever I cast my painful look I saw pussies, pussies and pussies. Don't know if any of the girls could guess that I was badly envying them, but no doubt none of them was envying me then, especially when they heard me telling Mom about how my balls hurt. Mom told me that boys should be careful not to let their balls be hit for it would always hurt them very bad. The girls heard Mom's words and saw the painful grimace on my face. And then they heard my silly question. I don't know why I did it - for I knew it was a silly question. Anyway, I asked it.

"And girls?" I said.  

"What about girls?" Mom inquired.

"Should they protect their balls?" There couldn't be any sillier question at that moment.

"What balls, sonny?" Mom looked at me, surprised. "Girls don't have them, don't you see?"

All the girls burst into laughter. Maybe they thought that it was my pain that made me so stupid and blind. But I knew only too well they had no balls. And of course, I could see they had none. But something deep within me made me ask that question. Something that wanted me to hear aloud the confirmation that being a girl meant possessing some sort of advantage. And I asked Mom one more question:

"Then they are lucky, aren't they, Mom?" I asked her, still holding my balls in my hand and my eyes fixed on her pussy.

"Yes, we are," I heard the ringing voice of my sister and turned aside to see her kick the shampoo tube away along the wet floor of the bath-house, crowded with naked girls and women. The tube stopped at a corner by the feet of some girl, who sneered at me, then pressed her hand against her smooth groin, doubled over and grimacing a pain on her face, shouted:

"My balls, my poor balls!"

More female laughter surrounded me. I grasped my aching balls harder and looked around me to see pussies, pussies and pussies...