Clowns juggle balls… right?

‘Or was that the Jester’s occupation? Ah fuck it, wrong time to be thinking about this anyways.’

Nolan is pretty tall, so you don’t have to reach down to get ahold of his testicles (it’s less of a “reach down” and more of a “reach across”).

You could kinda guess the texture of a ballsack from all the porn you watch, but actually feeling it in your hand is an entirely different thing. The first thing that comes to mind is one of those silicone balls filled with flour that you get at the dollar store as a child, except with a firmer core… and if it was warm… and, er, had a pulse…

‘Alright brain, stop it with these weird associations, thanks…’

His scrotum is about medium sized, maybe a bit bigger than average. It also feels lighter than you expected it to. You move your attention back to Nolan’s face while still keeping a gentle palm cupped below his balls.

Your heart skips a quick beat at the sight of his expression. He’s got his eyes slightly closed, biting his thick lower lip and his head is tilted slightly back; enough so, that your eyes are drawn naturally to his adam’s apple.

You’re not quite sure why, but this suddenly feels even more intimate. You shift slightly so your body is a bit closer to his and now facing him head-on. Your other unoccupied hand reaches up to grasp his hip; your thumb softly messaging the length of prominent bone underneath his shirt’s hem. Nolan hums in (what you assume is) a pleased sound. In response, he then brings an arm up, perching his forearm to hang loosely over your shoulder and behind your head.

You can’t even begin to suppress the full-body tingle for what he does next…

He uses the hand behind your head to idly play with the hair on the nape of your neck. Your scalp may or may not be more sensitive than most. You gulp.

Ever observant, even while invested in his own pleasure, he notices this but takes it slow. Nolan’s other hand is now languidly tugging his cock while you fondle his velvet pouch. The delicate hairs on your nape receive the occasional light tug from him too. As he speeds up with his pumping, you feel his warm balls jump in your hand - contracting to churn out his cum.

“Ah, shit - coming.” he grunts. You watch his climax with a thirsty fascination. His jaw clenches for a few seconds as he suppresses any sound to stay down in his throat. With the way he’s directing his own spurting cock, most (if not all,) of his jizz ends up plastered lightly across his chest. His sack is still softly spasming in your palm as he comes down from his orgasm.

You’ve almost forgotten about your other hand still tentatively holding onto his hip until he places a hand over it, giving a brief squeeze. You clear your throat and remove yourself from him. Suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment, you turn on your heel and walk to the sink to wash your hands. From the corner of your eyes you notice your pink blushing face, as obvious as ever in the mirror, and it makes you feel even more shy. There’s a soft rustle of tissue paper behind you, a flush, and then he’s beside you in the other sink washing his hands.

“Never done this before?” he speaks. At first, you’re a bit mortified, thinking you’ve done something incorrectly - but a glance in the mirror shows a teasing grin on his lips. Before you can reply, he walks past you and slaps your ass. Your hips jolt into the hard edge of the countertop in shock.

‘Wait… did he even dry his hands first-?’

You turn around in the mirror and sure enough: A big, easily-discernible, wet hand print right on your ass cheek.

“Might wanna let that dry before coming out.” he retorts playfully. A parting wink is all you receive before he’s out the door.