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Old 05-06-2018, 04:35 PM
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Default "Party Girl" - written before many of you were born :)
[I cannot believe I wrote this 21 years ago! But why not recycle?
I did clean it up a little bit over the weekend. Hope you like it! Tracy (f/k/a Tina ages ago....]


Party Girl

For a long time I stared at the invitation. I knew I had to go. I had missed every kid's birthday party in the neighborhood since I had been here, and this time I simply did not have, and could not make up, a credible excuse. Next Saturday I would be in attendance at Beth's birthday party. For most parents (and friends of parents like me) that would mean a slightly tiring afternoon, made well worth it by the happy kids. For me it meant only one thing: balloons popping. Popping while being blown up for the party. Popped by careless kids (or worse--careless adults). Popped just by sheer cussedness. And of course, the cleanup afterwards...

Then I felt the recognizable slow burn of anger and shame. Beth was the only daughter of my best friend Paula. Instead of happily calling up and saying "I'd love to attend!" I was (still) trying to think of any way I could gracefully get out of it. And all because I am just so afraid of balloons popping around me. Even more annoying is the equally incontrovertible fact that I get so hot when I play with balloons myself! I have even--on a couple of brave occasions--managed to deliberately pop a few small balloons. But I knew that this would not prepare me for an afternoon of unpredictable, and much louder, bangs, booms and pops. Erotic? Possibly. But much too frightening to be enjoyed.

Sounding more enthusiastic than I felt, I called Paula up and told her I'd be there. "Great!" she said, but I could hear a bit of hesitation. I asked what the matter was, with a sinking feeling in my heart. "I wondered if I could ask a favor, Tina," Paula started. "Could you come by about an hour early and help us set up?" Well, there was NO getting out of that one. Weakly I said that I'd be happy to help. I was pleased to hear her perk right up: "OK then, see you Saturday, Party Girl!", but I was shaking as I hung up.

Saturday took its sweet time coming around: that week I spent much more time than I care to admit thinking (OK, obsessing) about the party. On Saturday morning I woke up with my heart pounding in anxiety. Well, there was something I could do about that! I slid my hand down my body, under the waistband of my tap pants, between my legs, and I started caressing myself. Then I had an even better idea. I reached over to my low dresser and got out the bag of 7" balloons I had hidden there. Because I hate popping, I don't go through many balloons. I won't even tie off more than a few because I don't want to lose track of any of them (what if a balloon rolls into something sharp?!?). Now I knew I could survive these balloons popping, and I hoped I could acclimate myself to the noise a bit: maybe it would make the afternoon a little more bearable. In any event, it would CERTAINLY make the morning more enjoyable!

Still lying in bed, I gently stretched a little white balloon, put it to my lips and blew. It always amazes me how much resistance these balloons put up! Finally it bulged into shape, as I gasped from the exertion. As my fingers rubbed my nipple through my cami, a couple of small and very slow breaths got it round, but hardly what you could call full. I then turned to the task of knotting. Since I had not gotten a normal lifetime's practice at blowing up balloons, it took me forever to tie them off. On my third clumsy try my nail scratched right over the surface of the balloon. Miraculously it did not pop, but I jumped in fright anyway. Finally with my mouth dry, my chest pounding--and my pussy absolutely soaked--I got it knotted. I dropped it on the bed, grabbed my vibrator from the bedside table and drove it into my aching slit.

As I held the vibrator in place with my left hand, I got my cami off as quickly as possible, leaving me in just my black tap pants. I reached for a balloon with my right and started to blow. This one gave me an even harder time, because I hadn't stretched it out as much. As it inflated I let go and started playing with my breasts--much more forcefully than usual--with the slowly growing yellow balloon resting between my tits. I held the neck of the balloon closed in my lips (occasionally blowing a slight puff into it) as my vibrator and my fingers guided me to a powerful climax. As my body calmed down and my eyes opened, I looked at the balloon which had become quite big (for me anyway) with the neck starting to bulge! I immediately grabbed it out of my mouth and let a little air out--although it was still quite full--and decided to knot it instead of letting all the air out. My already slow knotting was even more hampered by the fact that one hand was quite slick with my juices. As I tied the balloon I felt myself getting quite hot again. This time, instead of my vibrator, I grabbed the less full white balloon, and slid it between my legs, rubbing my pussy and clit through my silk tap pants. I have never much cared for the tactile feel of latex, but I loved the feeling of the balloon squishing and bulging against my most intimate parts. I then got more industrious about blowing up some balloons--pausing in my self stimulation only long enough to knot off each balloon. First a pink balloon, then another yellow, then a red balloon got filled to varying degrees, before I shuddered through another hot orgasm.

I got up, showered and "put myself together" (and clipped my nails back--I learn quickly!) and started to dress. As I slipped on a white bra and bikini panties, I decided to steel my courage and pop the five balloons I had inflated. This would be a big step forward (I told myself)--coldly popping balloons without being emboldened by sexual tension! A woman who could do this could do anything (I told myself)! Still in my bra and panties I walked over to my "odds and ends" drawer and took out a pin. With my heart pounding (and a familiar moisture growing between my legs), I strode bravely forth to do battle, and nonchalantly popped the little white balloon that had given me such intimate pleasure an hour before. [To a neutral observer, of course, the picture may have seemed a bit different: a woman in her undies, weak in the knees, walking with a trembling step towards a tiny pile of tiny balloons, and with one hand over her ear--neck tilted to the side in order to cover the other ear as much as possible with her shoulder, jabbing at a balloon and jerking her arm back as though she was being shocked!] The balloon popped brightly, and I jumped back despite myself. Then I went after two quickly, before I lost my nerve. The first one popped so quietly and dully that even I was not too scared, but the third one--the one I had overinflated as it grew between my breasts--made a real BANG! OK, there was no question but that I was completely terrified. With one last show of courage I popped the remaining two balloons and then dropped back onto the bed, trembling.

After a few minutes I calmed down and congratulated myself on my fortitude with more than a faint sense of irony: instead of building up my confidence, I had just demonstrated to myself how unready I was for a balloon-intensive experience! I also realized that I had to change my undies...How was I going to get through this afternoon without having a nervous breakdown or a bone-shaking chain of orgasms--in either case in front of ten friends and twenty kids???

I changed into a fresh pair of pink panties, decided to slip on a matching bra, and started to go through my closet. I decided on a really cute, kind of tight, kind of clingy, kind of short black skirt and a slinky red crushed velvet top. Not trampy, but definitely attention getting. A pair of black thigh high stockings (I hate panty hose!) and 2" heels and I was set. One thing I had going for me was that (not having had any children) my figure was a good bit shapelier than most of the moms that would be there--and I was going to need every bit of self confidence I could get my hands on!!! At last the time came and I drove to the party.

I arrived in a few minutes. As I walked up to Paula's front door, exactly one hour before the party was to start, I steeled myself to enter a room full of balloons. With my heart pounding I knocked and stepped inside. The room was beautifully decorated, with streamers and paper lanterns and a gorgeous cake (Paula had really gone to town) but NO BALLOONS! Quickly I looked around and confirmed that there was not a balloon to be seen anywhere! I wondered if perhaps Paula was afraid of balloons--no, that was not it--what about Beth? That was it, I felt sure. Perfectly normal for a girl Beth's age not to like balloons. Thanking God for Beth, I greeted Paula much more effusively than usual (the relief was so strong I could have kissed her!!!). Paula was a few years older than me--34 to my 27--and was the perfect example of a successful single mother. Attractive, professional and self-confident would be a good description. She was fairly tall, with soft features, medium length auburn hair and an all-around "cute" appearance (even if she hated to be described that way!). A desk job and a child had taken the lithe edge off of her gorgeous college figure, but she kept in good shape as a result of a fanatical devotion to aerobics. But I was not, at the moment, looking at Paula; rather I was looking at the strange man behind her. Paula introduced me: "Tina, this is my cousin Mike...I think I told you he'd be staying here while he finishes his project downtown." Of course--Paula had told me a few days ago that she had a new houseguest.

Paula led us both back into the kitchen. I have always envied her kitchen: good sized, homey and comfortable--this usually was the center of social activity in the house. Things looked totally under control. The only activity was Paula's friend Jen was getting out some plastic cups and paper plates for the kids. I knew Jen socially--we ran into each other a few times a year, Paula being our friend in common. Jen was usually very quiet, a petite, slim woman about 26 years old with short brown hair that fell into a perfect pageboy haircut of its own free will (grrrr.....) and a slender face covering the most stunningly perfect set of teeth God ever put in a person's mouth. She also knew how to dress well, and was wearing a simple but very stylish summer dress that fell just above her knees. So much for blowing away the competition, I thought to myself, as Jen and I exchanged a few pleasantries.

I asked Paula what I could do to help. "Not a lot until Barbara arrives--she should be here in a few more minutes. Just sit and have some wine." So I got up onto a chair, smiling to myself: Paula could not have picked a less similar pair of helpers than Jen and Barbara. Barbara was taller and quite athletic (although like Paula, she had put on a couple of pounds since college), with bright eyes, long dirty blonde hair, a charmingly crooked smile and the most outgoing personality you've ever known. Strangely, she was able to pull off being enthusiastic about EVERYTHING without getting on your nerves!

As I reached for the glass of wine that Paula poured me, I had a chance to examine the new curiosity in Paula's house. I knew from Paula that Mike was 32, and that his consulting business took him all over the country. Medium height and build, with a decent haircut, he was not "drool material" (as Barbara liked to say), but he was cute in an odd, introverted sort of way. I immediately noticed three strong factors in his favor: gorgeous, expressive hands, intense dark brown eyes and a ready smile. While I was not on the lookout for anybody at the moment--and I certainly did not want to get involved with a person who would be in town for less than a month--in the abstract I could see him being acceptable date material...

My thoughts on the subject were interrupted by a car horn outside Paula's house. That HAD to be Barbara--nobody else uses their horn in the suburbs. We all got up and headed out the front door. Barbara had already gotten out and was opening the trunk. She was wearing her trademark jeans shorts and T-shirt. Never mind that it was a party--she would have worn jeans shorts and a white T-shirt to a coronation! "Hey Paula!" she boomed. "Got it all! No problems! Sorry I'm a bit late! Hey Mike! Give me a hand with this, wouldya?!" Mike started down the stairs as I saw Barbara unload two large plastic shopping bags from the trunk. Mike reached down to pick up the bags when Barbara said "No, not those--in the trunk!" Mike leaned over the trunk, grunted and came up. My heart nearly stopped, as he turned around staggering under the weight of a large, slender cylinder. A helium tank.

My heart restarted as I heard Barbara explaining to Paula how the party supply store was having a sale (!) And so the whole bill for all the balloons was only $90 (!) And look at all the pretty balloons I got for that (!!!) And won't Beth be happy (!) And on and on and on. I took one of the bags and started inside, peeking into the bag with a terrified curiosity. I could see that she had gotten a bunch of 12" balloons, as well as several smaller bags of other sized balloons (did that label REALLY say "16 inches"?!?). Well, that was that. I was dead. I would just have to endure this--there was no way I could plausibly escape and I was certainly not going to admit my childish fear to this group. As our balloon brigade marched up the stairs to the house, I braced myself for the upcoming ordeal.

The ordeal was not long in starting. Paula fired the opening round: "come on, we only have an hour." In an instant she had opened a bag of the 12" balloons and was inflating one with deep, steady breaths. I realized that there would be none of the ritual that I usually followed--no exhaustive checking of each balloon for color flaws or weak spots, no gentle stretching, no slow start to make sure nothing awful happened. I watched in horrid fascination as Jen took up at the helium tank and Barbara dove into her bag of balloons, and all the time my eyes returned involuntarily to the red balloon that kept growing in front of Paula. It had become tolerably full--and in an instant had become quite tight, with the neck beginning to bulge. One last deep breath brought out an odd--and very noticeable--shiny tint to the balloon as it became quite translucent. Even in my choked fear I noticed that the slightly overfilled balloon was considerably prettier and more festive looking than the anemic inflation jobs that I did by myself. Without sentiment or ceremony, Paula swung the balloon over and quickly knotted it, running her nails into, around and over the balloon with a carelessness that really brought home to me what it would be like to feel no fear at this time. And more than that--to feel no passion or arousal--as though one were doing dishes! Because the simple truth was that despite the absolute panic that I felt, I was also--much more subtly--finding this experience quite erotic. Not as a lesbian "thing"--I am straight through and through. Paula would never see it this way, but to my mind she was exercising an unfathomable power over something that sexually dominated me, and her ability to control that source of terror (and object of desire) was to me beautiful, awesome and incredibly sexy...

A familiar sound brought me out of my fantasies--the high pitched, slowly deepening rushing sound of a helium balloon being filled. I swung my head around to see Jen, a slight smile on her face, watching a beautiful pink balloon grow terribly rapidly. I could not help but start as the balloon swelled far beyond the size of Paula's. I nearly had a heart attack before I figured out that she was blowing up one of the larger balloons. I now watched, completely transfixed, absolutely sure of and dreading the inevitable, horrible BANG that would cause me to lose control completely. It, of course, did not come. Jen filled the balloon to a normal degree of fullness, deftly slipped in a plug with a long white ribbon attached (when did all of my girl friends become such experts at blowing up balloons? Was there a course I missed in high school?), and started again....

All of this had taken less than one minute. So it was the third time in one minute that I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt Barbara's hand brush my arm lightly. "Earth to Tina! Get busy girl! Have a balloon! Here--we'll let you start easy!" She pushed a white 12" balloon into my hand. I angrily decided that whoever wound up being Barbara's biographer would wear out the typewriter's exclamation point, and looked down at the "easy" balloon--so much much MUCH bigger than the 9" balloons that were the absolute limit of my daring during my moments of self-pleasure. There was nothing to do--Barbara had picked up a huge 16" balloon and was making shocking progress thanks to well-conditioned lungs that thought nothing of 10 mile runs. I watched for a second, noticing how totally goddam "all-American girl" she looked at that moment--tanned, healthy, shorts and T-shirt, cheerful blue eyes, with cheeks that bulged outward with every long, sustained breath. In my aroused state I also noticed her drawing in breath deeply, as her chest swelled out pushing the outline of her bra distinctly against the thin cotton of her T-shirt. Noticing (how could one not?) that the nipples on her ample chest were hard thanks to the exertion, I turned to see if Mike was enjoying this little show! He had vanished for the moment (to the men's room I guessed)--too bad for him!!! Three women (four, if you counted Tina the 'fraidy cat) in leg-showing party clothes, breathing hard (except for Jen, still flashing her fabulous teeth through a mesmerizing smile) was a nice enough view even for a balloon hater!

All this went through my head as I stretched my white balloon a few times. I realized that I could not give my usual FDA-like inspection, but I was damn well going to do what I could. I took a deep breath and let it out, as the white balloon jumped to life. Unconsciously I imitated the "experts" around me. One hand went out to the front/side of the balloon to steady it, the other guided the neck between my lips. After a few breaths I cheated a bit and took the balloon out of my mouth to check its body for flaws. No problems. So I continued slowly and, with knees shaking, managed to get it more or less full. I noticed Barbara, out of the corner of my eye, watching me as I clumsily knotted the balloon, trying to look nonchalant as I dropped it into the pile of seven balloons on the floor.

I picked up a second 12" balloon and started to blow it up. Paula, a very full 16" balloon in her hand, seated herself on a bar stool and, with her free hand, hitched up her skirt to midthigh (just us girls and her cousin around...) so that she could put her feet on the stool's support crosspiece, with her legs up and knees apart. She put the balloon between her legs, holding it between her knees to get better leverage as she pulled, stretched and contorted the neck--knotting it in a flash. She seemed quite happy with this arrangement, but all I could notice was that any time she moved her bare thighs would contract together a bit, bringing her knees inward and pushing a noticeable depression into each side of the balloon. The first time it happened I was so spooked--waiting for the POP--that I let go of the balloon I was inflating. It flopped around the room and everybody had a good laugh. Then Barbara quickly knotted her balloon, saying "C'mon Tina, quit clowning--we've still got a lot to do and we need those lungs, babe!" I took a yellow balloon and started blowing it up--not even stretching it out under the eyes of my new taskmaster. Sure that I was trembling visibly, I put seven successive deep breaths into it, getting a decent round shape for my reward.

Not good enough. In a flash the balloon was out of my hand and Barbara, now standing right next to me, was telling me "No, dummy! That's not full! You've got to keep going!" Before I could protest Barbara was demonstrating...deep breath, exhale (holding the balloon right out in front of my face), breath, exhale (now a bit of the neck showing), deep breath, exhale (I could see Jen THROUGH the balloon, attaching a ribbon to a smaller balloon), breath....

BANG!!!!!!! The balloon exploded in Barbara's mouth. A piece of latex hit my face seemingly even before I was aware of the noise. Then the horrible sharp/deep crack--so much louder than any balloon pop I had heard in recent memory, so much more than I was prepared for. I screamed and jumped. Barbara had given a bit of a shriek; so for that matter had Paula--only Jen was coolly unfazed by the bursting balloon. But--even though I did everything conceivable to restore my self control--they all clearly saw that I had overreacted. "Looks like we've got a bit of a screamer here!" Paula giggled, in a (to me, quite unfunny) reference to a sexual characteristic we had joked about in the past. "Yeah," the usually quiet Jen chimed in, "somebody needs to lighten up on the caffeine." Well, spilt milk and all that--for me the key was not to let my secret get out this way. With my stomach churning I collected myself and picked up another balloon as though nothing had happened. Of course, to the other girls nothing had happened!

"Geez, I can't take you women anywhere!" I heard from the doorway to the kitchen. Mike had returned. He looked at all of us, but in my paranoid state I saw his eyes constantly turning to me. Taunting me. As the terror of the popping balloon subsided a bit--leaving a still sharpened sense of anxiety--I became uncomfortably aware of the mounting sexual tension that always followed. Mike's eyes only enhanced that...he may not have been an Adonis, but he WAS a cute enough man, and up until now there had never been a man around while I had my "balloon fun." His presence--especially since I was sure he was staring at me--caused my mouth to dry out, my chest to ache and my hands to tremble...or was that just the fear and the lung fatigue? I raised yet another balloon to my lips, summoning the guts to blow up this balloon a bit more fully. More than anything I wanted to avoid another of Barbara's "lessons."

I was completely unprepared for what I saw next. Mike took a balloon from the bag and started to blow it up! I racked my brains for any memory of being in a room with a man as he blew up a balloon by mouth, and came up empty (my racing mind settled momentarily--for the zillionth time--on why it was that in our society balloons seemed to be "women's work"?). Barbara was a strong woman, but her lungs were no match for Mike's. In a flash he was holding onto a good-sized purple balloon. He looked directly at me, winked and with a faint grin put another gigantic breath into the balloon. I was utterly unable to take my eyes off him (though I did manage to get another couple of breaths into my own balloon). And now there was no question but that his presence was having an effect on me: in addition to my other symptoms, I felt my nipples stiffen, aching slightly, as my pussy started to tingle, with a comfortable slickness starting to grow deep inside me. Mike took his balloon out of his mouth, looked at his handiwork and quickly knotted the balloon. With a sidelong glance at me, he got up, walked over to Paula and volunteered to start putting the balloons up in the living room and dining room. IDIOT! I thought to myself. Why didn't you think of that? That would be scary work, but so much better than being tortured in this kitchen!?!?! I stifled an urge to kill Mike for taking over what should have been my job, watching as he gathered up some of the fragile globes and taking them out into the living room. With my fear in no way diminished, I returned to my work.

We continued for another few minutes--despite the show that Barbara put on, Paula was really making the most progress. "Probably because she has a kid and gets more practice blowing up balloons," I thought to myself. I was still captivated--and turned on--by her total calm. Every now and then, Mike would come back, standing in the doorway to the kitchen until a new set of balloons was ready for him. Then, of course, it happened again. This time Paula was the culprit--and I saw it coming. There was a sharp corner at the edge of the "bar" separating the cooking area from the breakfast nook--right where she was sitting. Still with a balloon between her legs she had swung around to get at her wine glass, and I knew instantly that she would drive the balloon right into the corner. I was right, and a green balloon (that had been an absolutely beautiful deep emerald jewel tone) vanished with a huge POP! Again I shrieked and started. Together, Paula's balloon and me caused Barbara to jump--involuntarily digging her nails into HER balloon, it popped with a somewhat less immense, but still far too loud, bang. And I jumped again! Instead of being angry, all three girls laughed uproariously--they thought this was too much! A fair amount of ribbing followed, during which time I once again used every means I had to reassert my self control. It was a much nearer thing this time--I was actually near tears. Fortunately, nobody noticed because they were laughing so hard...For the umpteenth time I regretted ever having come to this party. I also wondered how much of this Mike was seeing!

A few more minutes crawled by. Mike re-emerged and decided to give us a hand with our inflation tasks. Picking up a medium size pink (!) balloon, he gave it a good deep puff. "Oh god," I thought to myself. "He KNOWS...and he thinks it will be fun to make me jump and scream as well!" I was scared to death, humiliated, angry and unbelievably turned on. I was also utterly transfixed as he quickly, smoothly and (of course) fearlessly inflated the balloon to the "perfect" size--a beautiful round shape with the traces of definition to the neck starting to show. He instantly knotted the balloon, and picked up another. He looked up and, noticing I was staring at him, gave a quick smile before returning to his work. I was embarrassed at being caught staring like a lovesick 16 year old, embarrassed at the fact that my nipples were probably visible from the surface of the moon (WHY did I wear a clingy top?), embarrassed that Mike was probably just about to pop this pink balloon and have a good laugh doing it. But of course Mike was just being a gentleman and helping out.

[cont'd in next post]
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Old 05-06-2018, 04:36 PM
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Tracy Tracy is offline
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Default Re: "Party Girl" - written before many of you were born :)
[cont'd]

No, unfortunately, the next pop was Barbara again. This time I had plenty of warning. I heard Jen's quiet giggle behind me and took a look around. Barbara was, quite obviously, deliberately blowing up a balloon to make it pop. The purple balloon's neck was totally stretched out and the whole balloon was warped to the side. Barbara frowned as she realized that I would not be surprised, and put a huge breath into the balloon. Miraculously it did not pop. I realized that we were all (including Mike) watching Barbara. Even Paula had stopped her work. I covered my ears as Barbara grinned a dirty little smile, took a deep breath in (giving Mike an unavoidable view of her terrific tits), and with her eyes closed and cheeks bulging, gripping the balloon with both hands at the neck like a cheerleader holding a megaphone, administered a breath that made the surface of the whole balloon swell, shimmer a bit in the light and then explode. "Wow!!!" a breathless Barbara gasped (as I uncovered my ears and again tried to pretend nothing was wrong), "I haven't done that in a while!! What a rush!" (Giggle).

We continued another minute when a positively earsplitting BOOM shook the whole kitchen. My head spun around as I nearly fell out of my chair. Jen was holding the remnants of a 16" balloon that she had overinflated to popping with the helium tank. Any doubt I had that this was an accident vanished as I saw her incredible teeth spread into a positively wicked smile. Barbara thought this was just great: her cheeks, already pink from her inflation efforts, turned bright red as she convulsed in laughter, nearly popping the badly overinflated green balloon she was holding. I realized that I was not going to be able to fake it any more. My attempts to cover my terror had led to the worst of all situations...Paula, Jen and Barbara had misunderstood completely. They figured that like the rest of them I thought this was funny too--at least once I got over the initial surprise. So they thought it would be funny to watch me jump, since no harm was being done. Unintentionally, they were torturing me! And I just HAD to stop them, no matter how embarrassing. I knew that once they realized how much this was upsetting me they would cut it out right away, and I needed for that to happen more than anything. As I was opening my mouth to confess, though, Paula beat me to the punch and "saved" me. In her best "mom" voice, she said, "OK, that's really enough of that. We don't have that many balloons to spare, and we HAVE to have this house decorated in 20 more minutes. So knock it off, girls. There's still clean up time for all that popping!" After a little good-natured grumbling, Jen and Barbara got back to work. Then I did too.

I blew up another two balloons and then excused myself to go to the ladies room. Not that I had to go: I just wanted to get away from the balloons for a minute. I got to the bathroom and nearly collapsed. Fortunately, I was not going to cry (even though I sure felt like it). In fact, the trembling had even subsided. The terror had not diminished a bit, but the physical symptoms were a little better. Every erotic nerve in my body was completely overloaded. My nipples hurt terribly from their prolonged arousal; I could feel a bit of dampness running through my panties. At that moment I would have killed for the right man (at that point, ANY man) to just bend me over and enter me. I would have killed just to be able to pleasure myself. Unfortunately, no such option existed. I had another minute to collect myself, and then I had to get back before I was missed.

When I got back, I saw that I could not have picked a better time to get away. The girls had been at work on the 16" balloons that Barbara had bought. About 8 of them were filled with helium. They were an assortment of pretty pastel colors, and all were very, very full, with necks of 6 to 10 inches in length. As they bumped against each other in the breeze they made a high pitched "thump" sound that is unique to overinflated helium balloons. Another half-dozen air inflated balloons were on the floor, similarly overfilled. Paula asked me to put these balloons out. I took the ribbons on the helium balloons as if they were a time bomb, and moved as gingerly as I could. As I passed through the doorway Mike was coming into the kitchen. I was not sure but I thought he was staring at me as I gently attached these huge balloons to the safest places I could find--out of the way of lights, sharp corners and traffic areas.

I returned to the kitchen and we finished our work. No more balloons popped, to my eternal relief. We had just about finished the decorating (and I was pouring myself an overgenerous refill of wine) when the first guests arrived. The party proceeded apace. Mercifully, only one balloon popped the whole time (in the living room), and I was in the kitchen when it happened. Mike quickly moved the helium tank into the living room and in an instant replaced the popped balloon. At a couple of points during the day, I could have sworn that Mike was watching me--but I was so generally flustered and out of sorts that I did not trust myself. All I wanted to do was to get through this, go home and have a bottle of wine, a bubble bath, and about three hours alone with my vibrator! I knew the end would come pretty quickly. Paula had planned for the kids to start the party here, then to go to a popular family pizza place. I figured that I'd go along as a chaperone, hang out for a while and then bail out. Congratulating myself on this little plan (which would also get me out of the clean up), I smiled as Mike came up to talk to me. We exchanged some small talk and I told him that I'd be going over to the pizza place. "Yeah--that should be fun." Mike replied. "I promised Paula I'd pick up around here a bit...frankly I've had enough of kids for one day. And it sounds like it will be quite a zoo over there." I asked what he meant. "Oh, well I guess I can tell you-it's not your birthday party! [chuckle] That's where the serious decorating has been happening. A year ago Beth and Paula went to some event that had a balloon drop...you know, where nets in the ceiling open up and drop hundreds of balloons on the crowd?" I nodded--of course I knew all too well! "Anyway, Beth LOVED it! So Paula has arranged for a balloon drop at the pizza place. Don't ask me how she managed, but it should be quite a spectacle." I gulped, agreed, and we continued the chit chat. All the while I was thanking God that Mike had given me this tip!

By the time people were getting ready to go over to the pizza place, I had figured out my plan. No way was I going to suffer through a balloon drop! I would tell Paula that I wanted to stay and help Mike clean up. Then I'd figure out a way not to be there when the balloons had to be popped. Maybe I'd tell Mike to save them for Jen and Barbara, since they were having so much fun popping all those balloons when we were getting ready! The first part of the plan worked perfectly and in 20 minutes I was alone with Mike in a thoroughly trashed dining room. Terrific, I thought, as Mike headed into the kitchen. Now to just get myself out with a minimum of fuss...

A loud bang from the kitchen made me jump. One of the balloons had met its end. Mike walked out of the kitchen a few seconds later, holding a large blue latex fragment. That was not what I noticed, though: what struck me was the VERY odd expression on Mike's face. Like a cat that had cornered a mouse, I thought, as he asked, very un-cat-like: "Sorry, did that scare you?" "N-no," I stammered a bit. "Not a bit. Not as much as you scared that balloon!" I joked lamely. To my utter surprise, Mike walked over to one of the huge 16" helium balloons and untied it from the chair that anchored it. He then smiled a knowing smile and said simply, "I think I did scare you. A lot." Perhaps, but at that moment I was more nervous--and aroused--than I had been all day long! And I was determined to carry out the bluff. I shrugged and asked "what do you mean?" In response, Mike (still smiling), took a Bic lighter out of his pocket, fired it up and started to slowly move the flame to the pink helium balloon in his hand. I held out for a second and then it came out: "no no no...please don't....you're right....please....yes....I'm really scared...just please do not pop that balloon...I can't take that...please?" I was furious with myself for losing control, furious with Mike for learning my secret, and absolutely exploding from sexual tension. My thighs were moist with sweat, my pussy wet of its own accord.

Maybe the sexual distractions explained why I did not believe my ears when I heard the next thing Mike said: "But that's not all...is it?" Well, I was sure he hadn't figured out THAT part of my secret, so I just said (wearing my best tearful little girl face) "Isn't that enough?" He responded by lifting his foot and stomping on a little 7" balloon that had rolled out onto the floor in front of him. It popped with a much sharper bang than the duller "Booms" I had been hearing all day, scaring me anew. "No lies to me, Tina," he said sternly. "Tell me the WHOLE secret...now!" He said this staring right at my breasts, leaving no doubt that somehow he knew it all--and he was going to make me say it! A fresh flush of embarrassment and anger swept over me, and was pushing me to a last stupid act of defiance. As I got ready to deny all once again, Mike took the helium balloon by its knot and started waving it around--with the lighter just a few inches away. It worked. I turned a deep red, took a deep breath, and..."I'm sorry...you're right...I should not lie to you. I am really scared of balloons popping...and they also make me very, very hot."

"That's progress, Tina!" Mike smiled sincerely for an instant, but then the feline grin reappeared. "Now, then. Let's have some fun." What the hell was he talking about? He gently allowed the helium balloon to rest against the ceiling and released the lighter. "First, let's move these balloons...you are going to help me move all of the balloons in here into the living room." OK, I thought to myself, that is not a problem...but where is he going with this? To my complete relief Mike was almost as careful with the balloons as I was while we moved the whole party's worth (about 100 balloons, 1/3 of which were helium filled) into the living room--I recalled that Mike had put the helium tank in there as well. By the time we were done the floor was thick with a beautiful, multicolored sea of 12", 16" and some smaller balloons. There were also six bouquets of helium balloons. Mike had taken all of the 16" balloons that Jen had (over)inflated and had grouped them in a bouquet that he tied to one of the easy chairs. I still could not help my gaze from returning to those balloons--dreading the possibility that one might pop.

"Tina, get one of the balloons from that bag." Mike pointed to a bag of 11" balloons. "Blow it up for me. Now." I stared at him, as though I had not heard him. Was he out of his mind? Mike lifted up his left leg and put his foot down on a balloon--it's neck bulged terribly from the added weight, but it did not pop. For a second I thought of running out, but I realized that he was between me and the door. Even if I got past him he would be able to pop a bunch of balloons before I escaped. I also began to recognize that I did not really want to run. Sure, I was scared to death, but this was already becoming one of the most erotic experiences of my life. So I demurely smiled, and said "All right, if that is what you order me to do..." I picked up a yellow balloon, stretched it a couple of times, put it to my lips and began to blow. It took me a while to get it started, but it started to take shape. As I was blowing the balloon up under Mike's attentive eyes I was shocked to see the front of his pants developing a very noticeable bulge. With a start I realized that I was not the only person here who was turned on by balloon play! And just as quickly I realized exactly what Mike had in mind--and that I had no intention whatsoever of missing out on this, no matter how scared I was! I put a final breath into my balloon (now tolerably round) and knotted it.

"Well Tina, that was a good start, but that balloon isn't terribly well inflated, is it now?" Mike's voice was positively taunting. "I guess not," I replied. BANG! The balloon under Mike's foot exploded. I started--covering my ears too late--as Mike said: "I think you should address me with a little more respect, don't you?" I was getting ready to snarl a totally bitchy reply when he re-lit his lighter and moved it to the bouquet of balloons next to him. "That son-of-a-bitch," I thought. It was quite simple. He had me. I wasn't going to run, and I was going to do whatever he said. And he knew it--everything on his expression made that clear. My face reddened even further as I heard myself say, "You are right, sir. I did not blow up that balloon enough." He smiled evilly: "Well, do it again. But take off your blouse first--that's your penalty." Again, for an instant my stupid pride tried to reassert itself, and again a careless movement of the lighter (very nearly popping a beautiful orange jeweltone balloon) made me give in. I did not even bother to argue that Paula might come back--she had indicated that she would be gone for at least three hours.

Knowing full well that Mike was enjoying my childish attempts to assert myself, I turned my back to him and slowly lifted my top over my head. I brought it down in front of me, covering my chest (partially) and slowly--and as seductively as I could--walked over to the bag of balloons. I put on a nice show of picking up several balloons with the hand not holding my top, trying to decide which one I wanted to blow up. Eventually I looked at Mike, with the best submissive expression I could muster. "I would like to blow up this pink balloon, sir. Would you like that?" Mike nodded--obviously I had gotten the idea. I licked my lips and started to blow up the balloon. I kept my head down, so that the balloon slowly grew in front of my chest. When it was large enough to cover my tits (good thing I'm not Barbara-sized or I'd need one of those 16"ers!), I dropped my top from behind the balloon. Then I slowly lifted my head and the swelling balloon, giving Mike a nice look at my breasts through the lace and satin of my pink bra (wow! I thought--matches the balloon!). Mike shifted in his chair to better cover what was becoming a very nice looking erection. I was admiring the view myself as I continued blowing up the balloon, which is why I did not notice how full it was getting. Then my fingers holding the neck of the balloon were spread out as the neck started to inflate. Surprised, I took the balloon away from my face, and was stunned to see a fully inflated 12" pink balloon in my hands, with the neck bulging suggestively. I smiled a huge smile and flirtingly held the balloon out to Mike. "Is this good enough, sir?" I said in my best schoolgirl voice. Mike--a little taken aback--stammered out a "yes-that will do." I then turned my attention to knotting the balloon--much more difficult to do with a really full balloon, I realized. But I managed and batted the balloon toward Mike.

Mike made me repeat the process two more times. As I got the second, red balloon about 1/2 way full I saw a flaw in the latex near the top. Immediately, reflexively, I let all the air our of the balloon. A stern voice boomed "did I tell you that you could stop?!?" I tried to explain that the balloon was defective--shutting myself up when I saw Mike pick up a 16" balloon by the neck and squeeze it powerfully. Mike continued: "Pick...up...the little...white...balloon...at your feet." I obeyed his command with an immediate "Yes, sir." "Now sit on it and pop it! "NOW!" he shouted, squeezing the balloon in his hand even more. Realizing I had a choice between popping a small balloon myself and having him crush a huge 16" balloon, I moved to obey. I put the balloon down on a kitchen chair that had been brought out for the party, and tried to sit as demurely as possible. The balloon's neck jumped out, but it would not pop. I realized I would have to bounce up and down to make it pop. Feeling terribly self-conscious as my tits hopped up and down in my bra, I started to bounce--half hoping that the balloon would pop quickly, but still dreading the noise. The BANG came, and a sharp sting of latex hit my thigh as my bottom hit the chair. Humiliated, I realized that I had just been spanked by Mike for my misconduct!

"Well, maybe that will teach you not to misbehave. Now start over, and this time take off your skirt." A fresh wave of embarrassment hit me--I was being commanded to strip and submit myself sexually--and I could not bring myself to end this domination! Instead I unbuttoned and unzipped my short skirt, re-positioned myself in the chair, and slid the skirt off my legs. I got up, in my pink bra, pink panties and black stockings (too late I realized that the colors clashed!) and softly asked Mike to forgive me for disobeying him. He smiled and told me to continue--obviously enjoying the show. I returned to the bag of balloons. "Use the helium tank," Mike ordered. Before I knew it I was explaining: "Oh no, you see, I don't know how to use one and I don't think..." POP! Another small balloon on the floor got stomped, hurting my ears and making me wince. For a moment I had stopped noticing the fear--now it swooped back in uncontrolled. "Yes, sir...I'll do it right away." Fortunately for me, a helium tank is not a complicated piece of machinery. I fumbled for a second, but got a purple balloon fairly well inflated before I stopped. Mike ordered me to keep going. I put a little more helium in it. "Keep going." A little more. "Tina......" Closing my eyes and flinching involuntarily, I let a last good burst of helium into the balloon. Relieved (no bang!), I took the balloon off the nozzle and knotted it. As I let it go I realized I had forgotten to attach a ribbon--mercifully it hit the ceiling and did not pop.

"Very nice. Now I want to watch you masturbate while you blow up a balloon." For a moment I thought I had not heard correctly, but the look in Mike's eyes corrected that mistaken impression. I was planning to engage in one last act of idiotic defiance--what was I going to do at this point, run out to the street in my bra and panties? Then I realized that my insides were aching with lust, and that I truly wanted nothing more than to "attend to myself." If Mike wanted a show, he was about to get it! And if he wanted to join in...

"O.K....will you pick out a balloon for me to blow up?" I asked as I settled myself in an overstuffed leather chair. I slowly opened my legs, spreading them to let them hang over the arms of the chair, making myself look as totally vulnerable as I felt. As Mike picked a pretty green (16" should have figured!) balloon for me, I started to run my hands up my thighs to my belly, and started caressing my breasts through my bra. With my mouth, I took the balloon Mike offered and, pinching my nipples, began to blow. I started to unhook the front closure on my bra when I heard "leave it there." Remembering what followed when I failed to obey, I simply smiled and obliged. When the balloon was partially full, it rested atop my hands--busy playing with my ultrasensitive nipples, pausing to run slowly under the bottom of my tits. The balloon bounced and jumped playfully as my hands batted into it during their movements across my chest. The feeling was indescribably sexy. Holding on to the swelling balloon with my right hand, I started to slide my left hand down my belly, and started to gently stroke my clit through my panties. I arched my back as the pleasure swept me--this had been too long overdue today. The balloon, meanwhile, continued to grow. Certain that Mike wanted me to overinflate this balloon, and equally certain that I could not force myself to do it, I took the balloon out of my mouth when it was tolerably full but not overloaded. "Mike, I'm begging you...please let me tie this balloon now...please?" Mike sighed and consented--and for the first time in my life I was truly happy to knot a balloon.

Then Mike laughed and noted that I had failed to inquire as to the penalty! At this point, I knew that resistance would be stupid, so I simply slid my hand down my panties and, stroking my uncovered clit, asked (in a demure voice) what penalty my new master had in mind? Mike told me he wanted to watch me bounce on a balloon while I touched myself. "That feeble balloon you just blew up should do nicely!" he remarked. I obediently got up, took the green balloon and put it into the huge leather chair and daintily put my weight down on the balloon. The balloon made a loud squeaking sound as it rubbed over the leather, and it bulged out in a hundred unnatural ways, but my weight was clearly not enough to pop it. Again I spread my legs and settled back. The balloon, settling under my bottom, rubbed up against my ass and pussy. The pressure was, putting it mildly, arousing--and the possibility that the balloon would explode with another terrifying BANG generated constant waves of erotic anxiety. I took another inflated balloon from nearby and started pressing it into my tits, and simultaneously grabbed the neck of the balloon under me, rubbing it into the lacy crotch of my panties. Occasionally I would take the balloon pleasuring my chest and run it up and down my legs, enjoying the subtle pressure through my sheer stockings. I was really getting into this--and gearing up for a nice orgasm when Mike said: "That's enough--you've finished your punishment." I ignored him for a second--I was just about to come--when I saw him shrug and grab the ribbon of one of the 16" balloons, jerking it roughly toward him. I stopped with a very sincere groan as my orgasm started to subside--leaving a horrible need unfilled. At that moment, to add insult to injury, the balloon I had been riding popped. Mercifully the noise was muffled (a bit) by the soft chair, but my ears were still ringing as I got up, rubbing the sore spot where the popping balloon had stung my bottom.

This time I was completely sincere when I kneeled at Mike's feet and begged him to please make love to me. I told him that I would do anything he asked, without question. He commanded me to strip. I took a small 9" balloon in each hand, holding them just below the neck, and moved my hands to my chest. As I unhooked my bra, I put the balloons over my breasts and let the cups fall open. In response to Mike's command, I let one balloon go and squeezed the other balloon tight to my chest. He commanded me to pop the balloon by squeezing it, while all the time he was nonchalantly threatening to start a rampage of balloon popping. I turned my nails to the balloon and squeezed again. The snapping latex whipped across a nipple, adding a tone of pain to my frightened scream. As fear and pain subsided, I was even more desperate for fulfilment. I slowly slipped my panties off and stood before Mike (fully clothed), naked except for my stockings. At a gesture I immediately knelt before Mike and unzipped his pants. I took out his cock and started to lick the underside. Mike's hands ran through my hair. As I began to take him into my mouth, I heard a familiar rushing sound. Looking up, I noticed that Mike was blowing up a balloon! While I was pretty nervous, I was also massively turned on. As was Mike, judging from the throbbing of his shaft in my mouth. I felt his hands release my hair, and sensed that he was tying off the balloon. I flinched back a bit, afraid he might pop it. He sternly told me not to stop, and I continued to pleasure him straightaway. Then I felt an odd sensation. Mike took the balloon he just inflated, and another balloon, and held them to either side of my head, touching my ears. If I stopped pleasing him, or even slowed down, he started to press the balloons in--threatening to pop them right next to my ears! As if kneeling in front of him, sucking his hardness was not enough, I was being given directions as to technique! Of course, I had no choice but to comply, and I took a strange added pleasure in letting him completely use me as he pleased. One benefit of this arrangement, at least, was that I was free to rub my pussy as I pleased--he would not be able to see thanks to the balloons he was holding.

By taking the balloons away, Mike indicated he wanted me to stop--and he also saw that I was disobeying his order not to touch myself. I got to pop another balloon by sitting on it as a "penalty." The sting of the popping balloon was much worse without even my satin panties to cover me. I was again blushing furiously at the aptness of the spanking analogy. But my reward was finally coming--so to speak. Mike ordered me to lay down on the couch. I willingly obeyed and spread my legs, as he moved his head just over my positively throbbing slit. He picked up a large (pink again) balloon and started rubbing it over me, before starting to pleasure me himself. He looked up at me as I was writhing in pleasure and said: "I want you to blow up balloons for me--I want to watch you as I go down on you. Blow them up full or I'll pop this balloon between your legs and I won't let you come all night!" At that point my fear took a total back seat to my lust and I grabbed the nearest bag of balloons, heedless of size and took out a large balloon. I started blowing it up, holding onto it as best I could as my body pulsed uncontrollably thanks to Mike's skilled tongue. I was aware that I was deliberately moving my body so that my naked breasts would run my erect nipples over and into the latex skin of the expanding balloon. When the balloon was quite full I tied it off, then threw it to the floor. It hit something sharp and popped with a really sharp CRACK--like a rifle shot. I screamed and jumped--driving my clit against Mike's tongue. Although I was surprised and quite scared, I was also NOT going to let ANYTHING make Mike stop. I immediately grabbed another balloon and started to blow it up. I was rewarded by Mike energetically continuing. By the time this balloon had been inflated my body convulsed with a shocking orgasm.

As I came down, I realized I wanted Mike inside me more than anything in the world. I begged him: "If I blow up more balloons for you, will you please do me?" He agreed, but set one condition: "Use these," he said, pointing to an nearly full bag of 9" balloons, "and pop every one when it's full." At that point, I would have agreed to shoot off a cannon to be allowed to ride his cock. He took his turn on the sofa, and I straddled him. He entered my drenched pussy easily--his erection felt like it would split me in half. I rode him sitting up nearly straight, and took a balloon from the appointed bag. His hands ranged over my stocking-tops, to gently rub my clit, and then up to my chest, constantly roving over my body. I started to blow up the first balloon. As it got more and more full, I started to ride Mike more urgently--hoping that we would climax before the balloon got too tight. Nothing doing...I got to the point where another breath would have almost certainly made the balloon pop, and had to give up. I knotted the balloon and then (feeling Mike's cock stiffen perceptibly inside me) drove a nail into the latex skin. The balloon exploded, showering us both with shards of latex. I took a second to regain my composure and started again. Again Mike held out. This time I decided to tease him a bit. I tied off the balloon, felt him go even harder, and then started running my nails over the edge of the balloon. I could not believe that I was willingly torturing a balloon, but the feeling between my legs was simply to intense to pass up. I held the balloon close to my chest, squeezing it to make the neck protrude even more. Then I tried to take the neck into my mouth. I started to rub the balloon into his chest, gently at first, then--responding to the increased urgency with which he drove himself inside me--more forcefully. The balloon popped after about fifteen seconds of this abuse. I picked up balloon number 3 and, as I started to inflate it, I had another positively wrenching orgasm. Somehow I managed to keep myself together enough to continue blowing up the balloon in my mouth. Finally, what I had dreaded all day happened. With my next breath, the balloon turned strangely resistant, shuddered and--before I even knew what was happening--it popped in my mouth. This time my scream was VERY real! Apparently, that was what Mike had been waiting for--with a massive, bucking thrust he came inside me.

I could not remember having felt so emotionally drained and fulfilled. I gently extracted myself from our lovemaking and started to lie down, facing Mike, on the couch. As I leaned my head against Mike's bare chest, I remarked that he had incredible intuition for a man. After all, none of my normally observant female friends had any hint of my interest. He replied "Well, I knew what to look for! I've always had a sexual interest for balloons, and you were not exactly being subtle. I suspect the only reason that YOU did not figure ME out was because you were, er, distracted. Also, I sort of kept to the side because I was too busy enjoying the view of the four of you playing your little balloon games." "Oh," I replied, "so you WERE watching us!" (I blushed) "Yep...it was absolutely incredible. And then once I figured out your little secrets (I blushed again) I knew I had to figure out some story to keep you here." In an instant I sat bolt upright and turned to face him. "YOU MEAN THERE WASN'T A BALLOON DROP AT BETH'S PIZZA PARTY?!?!?" Mike smiled--a smile to which I was fast becoming addicted. "Of course not, you nut! Haven't you ever been to the pizza place--the ceiling is maybe 9 feet high! And doesn't a balloon drop seem a bit extravagant, even for Paula?" I was trying hard to be angry with Mike, but he was right. For god's sake, I hadn't even asked Paula about the balloon drop. And we both knew that, for all the terror I had been through, the sexual pleasure of submitting to Mike had been worth it.

We cleaned ourselves up, and I went out to buy some trash bags to finish the party clean up. When I got back, all the balloons were gone. Mike noticed that my obvious relief was mixed with a bit of disappointment. He promised that we would "do it again--and next time as equals." I kissed him, and simply said "yes, master."
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Old 05-06-2018, 10:12 PM
b0f0s0f b0f0s0f is offline
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Default Re: "Party Girl" - written before many of you were born :)
Holy fuck... you wrote this? This is one of my favorite looner stories of all time, it can still be found along with many other stories at this web archive link: https://web.archive.org/web/20021207...loons/stories/
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Old 05-06-2018, 11:36 PM
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Tracy Tracy is offline
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Default Re: "Party Girl" - written before many of you were born :)
Originally Posted by b0f0s0f View Post
Holy fuck... you wrote this? This is one of my favorite looner stories of all time, it can still be found along with many other stories at this web archive link: https://web.archive.org/web/20021207...loons/stories/
LOL! Yes, blushing, I wrote that. I'm so thrilled to hear that you enjoyed it.

Apparently written when I was 29, which is sort of horrifying... But back in very late 1998, Emery G had taken up running the Balloon Buddies mailing list. Interest was sort of waning, probably because for the first time ever there was a lot of (pay-for) balloon oriented content becoming available. (You young kids just stop talking so loud! And stay off my lawn!!!)

Anyway, Emery had a contest - put up any new content on the BB group and whichever is judged best wins a prize. I had some of the ideas for Party Girl kicking around my mind for some time... I am not into dom/sub but I loved the idea of someone using the balloon "thing" to create a d/s scenario. The story sort of wrote itself. (Well, the story idea, a few balloons, and a hot pink vibrator! But that's ANOTHER story...)

A bunch of people posted new photos in the contest. Given that original balloon pics (to say nothing of vids) were still something novel, I fully expected to get crushed in the contest. Somehow, though, I won! And the prize was one of those big USPS express mailer boxes FULL of balloons!

And what happened to those balloons? Well, let's just say that I could/should have written Party Girl 2, Party Girl 3 (revenge of the balloon sith), Party Girl 4 and so on

Thanks again!
Tracy - then known as Tina....

Last edited by Tracy; 06-06-2018 at 03:01 AM. Reason: Thx for the wayback link. I was off by a few months...
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Old 06-06-2018, 04:24 AM
PopFromDownUnder PopFromDownUnder is offline
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Default Re: "Party Girl" - written before many of you were born :)
WoW fantastic story and in depth writing Tracy great work
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Old 07-06-2018, 07:35 PM
b0f0s0f b0f0s0f is offline
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Default Re: "Party Girl" - written before many of you were born :)
That story really hit home with me because it described my fetish pretty much exactly. The whole "party decoration" scenario would have been my worst imaginable nightmare and the domination aspect of someone effortlessly controlling the object of your fears is super appealing to me. On the flip side, I would love to discover a girl that had a balloon fetish the way mike did, and use it to tease and torture her to her own arousal like that. I often think about what it would be like to get to indulge someone else's balloon fetish.
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Old 07-06-2018, 08:23 PM
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Default Re: "Party Girl" - written before many of you were born :)
I'm very glad you both liked it. Thank you!
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Old 08-06-2018, 07:09 AM
Infl8 Infl8 is offline
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Default Re: "Party Girl" - written before many of you were born :)
That's a really nice story, Tracy! Thanks!
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Old 08-06-2018, 10:20 AM
Born2popUK Born2popUK is offline
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Default Re: "Party Girl" - written before many of you were born :)
Wow, that was amazing! You’ve definitely gotta put a few more stories on here like that.
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Old 15-08-2018, 04:56 PM
LuckyLooner LuckyLooner is offline
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Default Re: "Party Girl" - written before many of you were born :)
I think I remember this one! Was it on the old chipple stories site? I think I came across that page shortly after the contest had ended.
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