Hi guys. I'm working on a new story and I thought I would share what I have so far.
I don’t normally go to parties. It’s not that I don’t get invited; it’s purely my choice. No-one knows the real reason though. And so Mom has pretty much forced me to attend my cousin’s birthday party today. I’m walking up to the front porch with the present under my right arm, and my heart is racing. I really hope there isn’t any in there.
Who am I kidding? It’s a birthday party. Of course there will be balloons in there. I’m deeply petrified of balloons. More specifically, I’m scared of balloons popping. I’ve never told anyone this of course. They’d only laugh at me if I did. But it plagues my entire life. I can’t go anywhere without worrying if there will be balloons there or not. And of course, I can’t go to parties. Not willingly, anyway.
I’ll just have to sit in the corner minding my own business, and hope nothing happens.
I wake with a start, in a cold sweat. Why am I dreaming things like this? I haven’t dreamed of how it all began in years.
I roll over and look at the sleeping face of my wife, Callie. She looks so sweet while she’s sleeping.
Now I know why I’ve been dreaming of my past. Callie hasn’t indulged me in nearly a year. I made a point of telling her when we first got together about my balloon fetish, and she seemed accepting, although she didn’t really understand. She agreed to play along for the first three or four years of marriage, albeit once in a blue moon. In fact, we haven’t even had regular sex in a long while, much less balloon sex.
I lie back on my pillow and sigh. Where did it all go wrong? Does Callie not love me any more? I still love her. I have been madly in love with her since we met seven years ago on that dating site. I was instantly attracted to her long, brown hair and blue eyes. She looked just like the girl who gave me my first orgasm. I couldn’t stop imagining those lovely lips wrapped around a sensually red Q16, her breaths rushing inside, trying to make it pop.
How things have changed since then.
I turn to face Callie and stroke her sleeping face. My hand trails down past her neck, and down to her naked arms. I love her. I really do. My cock starts to harden. I could take her right now, but I know that would be wrong.
I decide to lie back on the pillow and try to get some more sleep.
The party is in full swing now. There’s music and dancing and a big, tasty cake. But I can’t take my eyes off the balloons. Sooner or later one of those is going to get popped. I’m bracing myself for that moment.
And here it comes. One of the girls takes a balloon, a big, tight red one, and places it beneath her. She bounces up and down on it lightly, her small tits jiggling with each bounce. Suddenly I get a spontaneous erection. What’s happening? This is supposed to be scary, not sexy. But at the same time I can’t take my eyes off her lovely butt squished against the taut latex. The next distends against the knot as she bounces harder. She’s giggling; she knows it’s going to explode any second. She flicks her brown hair back and loses herself in the moment. She’s enjoying this a little too much.
BANG!
The balloon bursts into a hundred tiny latex shards. The girl falls to the floor, laughing loudly. And I come, intensely. My first orgasm. I quickly make my excuses and run to the bathroom. Once in there I replay the scene in my head, stroking myself until I come again.
I wake again, my heart racing. What is it with these dreams? Why am I dreaming of some random girl whose name I don’t even know, instead of my wonderful wife?
I say wonderful, but life with Callie really has gone downhill lately.
I made it a point to tell Callie early on about my fetish. I waited until we’d been together for about six months, and intimate for about one. God knows why it took us so long to get intimate. I couldn’t wait to rip her panties off from the moment I saw her. Anyway, I decided to pull no punches when it came to my fetish, and tell her what, exactly, turned me on.
She took it well. Sort of. “That’s OK, I guess, but I’m not sure how it works.”
I sighed. “All I want is to see you blow up a balloon until it pops, before we make love.” I’m not entirely sure why I enjoy watching blow-to-pop; I usually enjoy more intimate methods of bursting. “Or maybe sit on one,” I added.
“Do you have any on you now?”
Of course I did. We were sitting in my old room at my mom’s house, and I opened my bedside drawer and brought out a packet of jewel tone Q16s. Callie took one and started to blow it up. She was so good at it. Her tits heaved with every breath. I tried to resist the urge to start fapping, but failed miserably.
“You enjoying yourself there?” she said, taking the balloon away from her face as she spoke.
I nodded, pushed her back on the bed and started kissing her neck. “Keep blowing,” I instructed her.
She started back on the balloon, which was now growing against her lips. With a few more breaths, the balloon burst. I quickly ripped her panties off and plunged myself into her. She giggled as I pounded into her until I came.
It was the best sex we’d ever had. And it was one of the only times Callie indulged me with balloons. I sigh deeply and look at her sleeping face once more. And that’s when I realize I won’t be getting back to sleep tonight.
I head over to the study to take matters into my own hands.
So, what do you think?
I don’t normally go to parties. It’s not that I don’t get invited; it’s purely my choice. No-one knows the real reason though. And so Mom has pretty much forced me to attend my cousin’s birthday party today. I’m walking up to the front porch with the present under my right arm, and my heart is racing. I really hope there isn’t any in there.
Who am I kidding? It’s a birthday party. Of course there will be balloons in there. I’m deeply petrified of balloons. More specifically, I’m scared of balloons popping. I’ve never told anyone this of course. They’d only laugh at me if I did. But it plagues my entire life. I can’t go anywhere without worrying if there will be balloons there or not. And of course, I can’t go to parties. Not willingly, anyway.
I’ll just have to sit in the corner minding my own business, and hope nothing happens.
I wake with a start, in a cold sweat. Why am I dreaming things like this? I haven’t dreamed of how it all began in years.
I roll over and look at the sleeping face of my wife, Callie. She looks so sweet while she’s sleeping.
Now I know why I’ve been dreaming of my past. Callie hasn’t indulged me in nearly a year. I made a point of telling her when we first got together about my balloon fetish, and she seemed accepting, although she didn’t really understand. She agreed to play along for the first three or four years of marriage, albeit once in a blue moon. In fact, we haven’t even had regular sex in a long while, much less balloon sex.
I lie back on my pillow and sigh. Where did it all go wrong? Does Callie not love me any more? I still love her. I have been madly in love with her since we met seven years ago on that dating site. I was instantly attracted to her long, brown hair and blue eyes. She looked just like the girl who gave me my first orgasm. I couldn’t stop imagining those lovely lips wrapped around a sensually red Q16, her breaths rushing inside, trying to make it pop.
How things have changed since then.
I turn to face Callie and stroke her sleeping face. My hand trails down past her neck, and down to her naked arms. I love her. I really do. My cock starts to harden. I could take her right now, but I know that would be wrong.
I decide to lie back on the pillow and try to get some more sleep.
The party is in full swing now. There’s music and dancing and a big, tasty cake. But I can’t take my eyes off the balloons. Sooner or later one of those is going to get popped. I’m bracing myself for that moment.
And here it comes. One of the girls takes a balloon, a big, tight red one, and places it beneath her. She bounces up and down on it lightly, her small tits jiggling with each bounce. Suddenly I get a spontaneous erection. What’s happening? This is supposed to be scary, not sexy. But at the same time I can’t take my eyes off her lovely butt squished against the taut latex. The next distends against the knot as she bounces harder. She’s giggling; she knows it’s going to explode any second. She flicks her brown hair back and loses herself in the moment. She’s enjoying this a little too much.
BANG!
The balloon bursts into a hundred tiny latex shards. The girl falls to the floor, laughing loudly. And I come, intensely. My first orgasm. I quickly make my excuses and run to the bathroom. Once in there I replay the scene in my head, stroking myself until I come again.
I wake again, my heart racing. What is it with these dreams? Why am I dreaming of some random girl whose name I don’t even know, instead of my wonderful wife?
I say wonderful, but life with Callie really has gone downhill lately.
I made it a point to tell Callie early on about my fetish. I waited until we’d been together for about six months, and intimate for about one. God knows why it took us so long to get intimate. I couldn’t wait to rip her panties off from the moment I saw her. Anyway, I decided to pull no punches when it came to my fetish, and tell her what, exactly, turned me on.
She took it well. Sort of. “That’s OK, I guess, but I’m not sure how it works.”
I sighed. “All I want is to see you blow up a balloon until it pops, before we make love.” I’m not entirely sure why I enjoy watching blow-to-pop; I usually enjoy more intimate methods of bursting. “Or maybe sit on one,” I added.
“Do you have any on you now?”
Of course I did. We were sitting in my old room at my mom’s house, and I opened my bedside drawer and brought out a packet of jewel tone Q16s. Callie took one and started to blow it up. She was so good at it. Her tits heaved with every breath. I tried to resist the urge to start fapping, but failed miserably.
“You enjoying yourself there?” she said, taking the balloon away from her face as she spoke.
I nodded, pushed her back on the bed and started kissing her neck. “Keep blowing,” I instructed her.
She started back on the balloon, which was now growing against her lips. With a few more breaths, the balloon burst. I quickly ripped her panties off and plunged myself into her. She giggled as I pounded into her until I came.
It was the best sex we’d ever had. And it was one of the only times Callie indulged me with balloons. I sigh deeply and look at her sleeping face once more. And that’s when I realize I won’t be getting back to sleep tonight.
I head over to the study to take matters into my own hands.
So, what do you think?
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