Terry and I have been together for four years now, and our weekends are our time together. Terry is a body builder, and every weekend is spent keeping his body in prime condition for the stage. That means I shave every hair from his incredible body, including crotch and ass. He exercises and lifts weights, and practices his poses and routines, and I oil and massage him ALL over, a good FUCK usually the result of oiling and carressing his cock and balls.

I have my weekend ritual as well. Where Terry is most proud of his tight, tiny butt, I'm most proud of my big balls and the low-hanging sac that supports them. I'm into ball-stretching and ball pumping. Normally my nuts are the size of eggs and hang well below my dick, the head of which nestles between my two large orbs. But I want them bigger and to hang even lower. I've used saline drips to expand my sac to the size of a grape fruit, slowly letting my body reabsorb the saline over the weekend. My sac hangs very loose and low after a weekend session, my balls not quite reaching the bottom of my sac, leaving a nice loose web of scrotal flesh dangling betwwen my lower left nut and its' higher brother to the right.

And I've managed to pump my nuts from egg-size to the size of lemons. Then they really stretch my sac to its' lowest reaches. I can barely walk with my "lemons" banging from one thigh to the other, but when I pull my bicycle shorts up and position my balls to best display, I present quite a package. Terry loves it!

I mention the bicycle shorts because I ride a bike along the footpath by the canal that runs through R---. There are many bicyclists and joggers who take advantage of the footpath each day, free from the danger of being run down by a car, and many people canoe along the canal, and the local university has a rowing team that uses the canal for practice. My job is to see that no one comes to grief by the canal, a sprained ankle, a tumble over the handlebars, or even a mugging. I carry a badge and a radio receiver to call for help in an emergency.

We had recently had a rash of robberies take place along a certain stretch of the canal. Lone bikers had been stopped and robbed of any valuables, their bikes taken, and if they offerred any resistance, they were stripped naked and left to hide in the bushes until someone passed who could then contact the police.

I had just interviewed one such victem, offerring him a blanket to cover himself, and noticing his terrific build and the size of his cock. He was furious, demanding the police do something to stop this continuous string of assaults. He was more angry about the loss of his expensive racing bike than his stripping.

My chief swore that something would have to be done to protect our citizens from more outrages. I normally ride a police bike in a uniform, but from now on, I was to ride my own bike, and wear my own cycling gear. I would carry my badge, but could only wear a small "wire" to communicate for help. In other words I was being used as bait!

Nothing happened the first week of my undercover rides. I got up Saturday morning, and began my usual pumping routine. My balls had reached their lemon-size, when my chief phoned to say that the regular undercover cop could not show up for his Saturday surveillance, and that I would have to take his place. I told him I would be right on it, waiting to swear a blue streak after putting down the reciever. How could I leave the apartment with my balls as big as baseballs? I somehow got my bike shorts up over my butt, and carefully positioned each nut in the front. My spandex shorts were stretched to their limit! I tied a jacket around my waist and left my building with my bike held in front of me.

Once I was on the bike, with a large nut hanging over each side of the seat, each one rising and dropping as I pedalled, things weren't so bad. I rode from one small canal-side town to the next with nothing out of the ordinary, and turned around to return to the first. I had gone about two miles when I came upon a young girl jogger who was laying accross the footpath. I assumed she had twisted her ankle, and was just climbing off my bike, when three young men came out of the bushes growing by the path, one behind me, and the other two to stand over the girl. She got to her feet and came up to me, with a nasty little smile on her pretty face.

"Nice bike you got there. What did that baby cost you?" I knew I was in trouble, and brushed my hand accross my chest to activate my "wire". The officer in the squad room would hear everything that was said. "I thought you needed HELP!", I said, emphasizing the last word. They were all over me in a flash. While the three guys dragged me into the bushes, the girl got on my bike and rode off down the footpath.

I struggled as they began to untie the jacket from my waist, and got a cuff on the helmet as one of them went through the pockets.

"Nothing here", said the one who took my jacket. "Check his other pockets." As I was held from behind, my crotch was thrust forward, showing the huge bulge in my bike shorts.

"Shit, this guy must be really turned on by a mugging", said the guy in front of me. He put his hand in my pocket and pulled out my police ID.

"He's a fucking COP!", shouted the guy. He punched me in the stomach, and I doubled over. Dragged back up, the guy approached me and grabbed my package. "His fucking balls are HUGE! Let's have a look at 'em."

My shorts were pulled down to my knees, and my large balls dropped halfway down my thighs, my dick laying on top of them, pointing at the guy.

"These can't be real! No one has nuts this fucking big!" He held one big nut in each hand, squeezing and hefting them like a juggler.

"There's one way to find out if they ARE real", said the guy holding my arms behind me. "Open up his sac."

The two guys in front of me grinned at each other, and one got down on his knees in front of me and held my legs together, his face inches from my swollen sac. The other guy pulled a large hunting knife from its' sheath at his belt. "See how sharp this is?" He brandished the knife in my face, then lowered it to my throat. Instead of cutting my throat, he cut my spandex shirt from collar to waist and pushed it over my shoulders to expose my chest.

"God, you got some build on ya. And what's this taped to your chest?" He had found my "wire".

"The fucker's wired! Lets get this over with." I began to struggle, my big ballsac bouncing up and down, my dick suddenly hard and swollen to its' fullest, standing up against my belly, completely exposing my flopping nutsac.

The guy with the knife tore the wire from my chest and threw it into the canal. "Lets see if these fuckers are real." He put the knife between his teeth and used both hands to grip my nuts, twisting and squeezing until my balls were hanging below his fists. Finally able to encircle my nutsac with one hand, he pulled the knife from his teeth and placed it below my throbbing cock.

He looked up at me. "Real or not, I'm cuttin'em off ya." His friend on his knees was starring wide-eyed at my dangling nuts as they swung and slapped my thighs with my struggles. He put his blade against the neck of my sac and drew the knife accross the gathered flesh of my nutsac. I couldn't believe the fiery pain! My sac was so heavy, one stroke of his blade was not enough. I don't know how I remained conscious as he sawed his blade back and forth until my balls came away in his hand. I remember him rising to his feet with my balls hanging from his fist. The guy who held my legs tried to grab them from his friend, and they went off down the canal-path laughing and fighting over my lost nuts. The guy behind me pushed me down, jumped over me and followed his friends around a bend in the path and out of sight. I remember putting my hand beneath my cock and finding nothing but a bloody tag of skin. Then I passed out.

I came to in the hospital, Terry crying by my bedside. "Your balls. Your beautiful BALLS!!!" I looked beyond him, and saw my division chief standing in the door. He was watching Terry and his hysterics with a very big frown on his face. He looked at me, then turned and left the room.

The results of my experience were;

1. I lost my lover

2. I lost my job

3. Most important to me -

I LOST MY BIG BOUNCING HANGING SAC OF BALLS!!!!!!

I have to admit, it IS easier to ride my bike now!