This is a prequel to my other story (make sure to check it out too!), the events are happening 3 years earlier and Kate is 18 there.
That day there was no limit to my excitement. The case was that I'd been a metal fan for quite a long time, and the news about Metallica themselves coming to our city soon sounded like an absolute miracle! Me and my friend, another girl, were anticipating it so much. The day had finally come, we met and headed right to the concert. I think that the songs we got to listen to, or how long had we been there, do not matter that much in context of this story. But what does, is the moment where lots of big black beachballs were thrown in the crowd. My way of thinking and my friend's were quite similar, therefore we both decided that trying to take two of these balls home would be a funny idea. In addition, they would serve as cool souvenirs. After running around for maybe 10 minutes in an attempt to catch beachballs we actually managed to do it. And surprisingly, no one tried to kick it away when we were actively forcing the air out of the toys through the valves. Probably others just thought that the balls got popped. When these finally were flat, we folded them and threw into our bags. After around an hour, the concert had ended, and satisfied, but tired us, staggered home. My friend was living just a few houses away from me, so I didn't have to walk alone for too long. I entered my house and immediately collapsed on the sofa.
Parents and Amy (my little sister) were away that evening. I really wanted to close my eyes and open them only the next morning. But sadly, I couldn't. I still had a submission for school to be done for the next day, but I knew what I was going for when decided to go to the concert instead of completing the task. However, right then I absolutely needed to rest for at least half an hour before starting my work. "But what should I do in this time" I thought. "Oh right, I've brought home a trophy. I think I should at least look at it and make sure it's not damaged". After extracting a pile of black vinyl from my backpack, I grabbed an electric pump we used to inflate pooltoys with, plugged it in the valve and pushed the switch. It took around 3 minutes to fill the beachball with air. "Oh man" – I was finally able to observe it in a calm and quiet atmosphere – "This thing looked a bit smaller to me at the concert, and I don't remember it taking long to deflate it". In fact, it did take long, but the immense excitement right then made us perceive it as just a couple of minutes. "Oh well, I guess that if even I got surprised by its size, Amy will be certainly amazed. I think I should throw this toy in a pool". Before going outside and putting the ball in its appropriate place, I decided to kick it a few times, so that it bounces off the wall, just for fun. When I was about to swing my leg once more, I somehow managed to stumble on my other leg (I'm clumsy as hell) and shrieked "OH CRAP" as my face started approaching the floor. But right at that moment the ball rolled back from the wall and I was falling precisely onto it. "Even worse" I thought cuz I was genuinely sure that the toy would instantly pop under my body weight. But it endured without any complaints and saved me from an unpleasant meeting with the firm ground. "Oh thank God, I need to get up and carry this ball outside before I injure myself". But... I didn't want to. Lying on this huge soft ball just felt... comfortable. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the toy's surface. "Have it always been so comfy?" – wondered I while gently squeezing the ball to my chest – "Maybe I sho... WAIT. What the hell is that now? Am I getting intimate with an inflatable ball? Oh gosh, I must be really tired if my brain performs such stuff... I should get to work immediately". I grabbed my laptop and headed towards the desk. At first it all went quite well, but I quickly found myself barely able to keep my eyes open and willing to tilt forward and lay my head on the table. I couldn't continue working like that. An interesting thought visited my mind: "If it held my weight just well, it wouldn't mind being used as a chair would it?"
My usual seat was moved away, being replaced with the big black beachball. It was inflated just perfectly for me to sit on the same height. I was made to keep the balance all the time, it certainly helped to concentrate on my work without falling asleep. In process, I was slightly moving my hips back and forth, from side to side, even bouncing up and down on the ball a little, just to keep my mind awake. Half an hour had passed, and even though I still was not about to fall asleep, something was wrong. And this something was draining my concentration. I listened closely to my inner feelings and at first even thought that I was mistaken. "Why would I feel like that right now? There's no way it's this thing again..." I have moved my focus to the beachball, that had slightly stretched over the time, causing me to sink deeper into the vinyl. I squeezed it with my hands and heard a tiny squeak, which made this weird feeling increase, and then it became clear to me. There are plenty of words to describe this phenomena: turned on, horny, aroused... But the fact was obvious, this beachball made me feel it. "This... Makes no sense. C'mon, Kate, you're just exhausted. You need ten more minutes, and you can go to sleep. Now concentrate and finish this!" I grabbed the handle of a cupboard underneath the table surface and pulled it harshly, too harshly... A pop sound came, as the sharp corner of the cupboard pierced the thin vinyl of my ball. I gasped and pushed the shelf back inside. The air was leaving the toy with a hissing noise through a small hole. The tension inside my stomach had risen like mad. That was the moment when I gave up my rational thinking. I sank one hand into my panties, gripping on the ball's surface with the other, and then gave all of myself to pleasure. I hadn't expected riding my beachball to feel more enjoyable than probably anything else I'd experienced so far. Using folded vinyl as a handle, I tried to bounce away from the table, which was actually quite difficult due to the ball losing more air every minute and becoming less tight. Every time the beachball got squeezed between me and the floor, a wave of pleasure ran through my body. The squeaks, the air hissing sound, the soft stretchy material, why was I enjoying it so much? I decided to leave that question unanswered and keep riding my deflating ball. I lasted for around 8 minutes and with a quiet moan collapsed on the toy in pure bliss. Now feeling comfortable from being on top of the beachball was absolutely justufied. It had already deflated by one third and was still gradually going flat. I hugged the injured toy tightly and even gave it a kiss, as I was feeling absolutely wonderful. I had already prepared to unplug the valve and puff in some air to have more fun with this lovely beachball, but suddenly remembered that my homework was still not finished. Moreover, I could damage the toy further. "You know what, my friend? Now I don't think I'll show you to anyone else in this house... And we'll have fun whenever we are left alone" – I said that aloud and opened the valve.
The next time when I was the only person at home, as much as I wanted to grab the pump and repeat the marvelous ride I had on my beachball earlier, I first needed to fix it. I had already prepared glue and scissors, but hadn't though about a source for the patch. We had only one inflatable toy besides my new one, and it was a small 24" beachball Amy sometimes played with. It was certainly not right to sacrifice my sister's toy for such purpose, but right then I had no other choice. I went outside and took the ball out of the pool. "I'm sorry, little one" – I whispered and dug two nails right into the seam. The air started to escape, and the toy instantly lost its tightness. Goosebumps went down my body and I shivered a little. "Ss-so, with smaller ones t-this works too? No, focus, Kate! You have a different goal right now". Not to tease myself further, I moved my arms away from each other, tearing the poor ball apart. Soon a white patch was glued securely to the black vinyl panel. Yeah, that barely looked natural, but at least, I got back the ability to ride my beachball safely. It had to lie still for a day at least and I had to be patient. Even though it was my first experience of fixing pool toys, I seemed to have succeeded. The hissing sound was not there when I inflated the ball again, and it wasn't either when I took a seat on it. A wide smile appeared on my face unintentionally. "Welcome back, bouncy friend. Ready for today's playing?" – never before had I thought that I'd be talking to an inflatable ball in all seriousness, but here I was and didn't see anything shameful in it. "But this time... I don't think I need my clothes on" – in a minute I was already straddling my toy completely naked, feeling the soft vinyl with every inch of my bare thighs skin. The enjoyment of playing with my beachball without clothes was on a whole different level, and this time I didn't restrain myself to one short ride. 30 minutes of intense bouncing and riding were endured perfectly by my wondeful toy. The patch was still there, safe and sound, and I got proud of myself once again for fixing the ball so professionally.
Earlier, I was never really happy about parents leaving the house with Amy, as I had no one to talk to at that moments. But now I was looking forward to every such occasion and the alone time I'd have with my beachball. I even think that I got a little addicted to it, as I was using every opportunity to inflate my toy and have a ride. Fortunately, I had never been caught by my parents or sister. A few months had passed, my beachball remained undamaged and hadled my playing just well. That was good, because rarely did I actually try to play gently and not make the ball withstand my bouncing weight. One day all of us fell ill, and during 3 weeks none of us were able to leave the house for long, hence there was no chance for me to puff my toy up. At some point I was just thinking that I wouldn't be able to take it anymore and would try to inflate my ball secretely. Luckily, not long after, parents and Amy got well and left the house for a whole evening. Once I heard the door lock turn, I ran like hell straight to my room and opened the wardrobe, where the pump and my precious beachball were stored. "There you are... I missed you so much..." – I hugged the pile of black vinyl, as if it was my best friend I hadn't seen for months. I connected the pump and switched it on. My hands were shaking as I was watching the toy inflate and expand with a childish excitement. Soon the ball became tight, maybe even slightly overinflated. Having disconnected the pump and closed the valve safely, I was ready to do it. Without any foreplay or warm-up, I jumped on my firmly inflated beachball and started riding it wildly, like there was no tomorrow. My mind was devoid of any thoughts, it was just me and the pure pleasure, that I was unable to feel for the long 3 weeks. Fingers of one hand was inside my wet pussy and the other was squeezing my breast. It felt amazing... Just like the first time I found myself enjoying riding this toy. Both the squeaks of the ball and my breathing were loud and harsh, and for some time these were the only sounds filling the room... Until hissing became clearly audible. I immediately stopped moving and it didn't take long to find the leak. If the hole the cupboard had made back then was relatively "safe" and I could theoretically keep riding the ball without even patching it, this one was right on the seam, could expand at any moment and put an end to my fun, as the damage would probably be irrepairable. I should have got off my favorite toy, if I wanted to prolong its life, but... not only did I stay on the ball, but I started to bounce even harder. Just like that time, the hissing sound drove me crazy, and that ride was a race, who would give up first: me or my ball? The understanding of having limited time to enjoy my big inflatable friend made me intensify my moves every minute, and that was gradually making the leak bigger. At some point I stopped helping myself with my hands, and instead gripped on the vinyl with them. Now I was just rubbing my pussy over the soft black material and it probably more looked like I was bouncing on a big space hopper. "Please... Don't give up yet... Just a little more" – I spoke quietly. In a few minutes I actually lost the race, my mind went numb and, moaning loudly, I collapsed on the half-flat ball. A couple of seconds later with a POP sound the seam had finally tore apart, and I fell right on the floor.
Sweaty, heavily breathing and ecstatic, I was lying on my popped beloved beachball. It was sad to realise that it wouldn't be able to make me feel good again, but that ride... was an exceptional pleasure. Now I had to hide everything and probably go take a bath not to attract any suspections. Now I had a dillema, I needed to replace my old toy, but this time I wanted it to be durable enough to withstand my roughest rides. And I went right to the Internet, where actually ended up discovering who looners are. Earlier I actually thought that I was the only person to love beachballs THAT much. Various videos of men and wowen bouncing on inflatables, which were enduring them just well, were really hot, but the prices of such toys... Damn capitalists, they know how to earn money on one's fetish. Therefore, I stuck to the big cheap beachballs I could find in stores nearby. They were doing their job just well, and sometimes were even softer, but gave up far more quickly than my lovely Metallica ball did. Anyway, I was happy to know that much more people like me existed around the world. But how nice it would be to meet such person in life... And even if I do, who could it be...
s-l1200.jpg
That day there was no limit to my excitement. The case was that I'd been a metal fan for quite a long time, and the news about Metallica themselves coming to our city soon sounded like an absolute miracle! Me and my friend, another girl, were anticipating it so much. The day had finally come, we met and headed right to the concert. I think that the songs we got to listen to, or how long had we been there, do not matter that much in context of this story. But what does, is the moment where lots of big black beachballs were thrown in the crowd. My way of thinking and my friend's were quite similar, therefore we both decided that trying to take two of these balls home would be a funny idea. In addition, they would serve as cool souvenirs. After running around for maybe 10 minutes in an attempt to catch beachballs we actually managed to do it. And surprisingly, no one tried to kick it away when we were actively forcing the air out of the toys through the valves. Probably others just thought that the balls got popped. When these finally were flat, we folded them and threw into our bags. After around an hour, the concert had ended, and satisfied, but tired us, staggered home. My friend was living just a few houses away from me, so I didn't have to walk alone for too long. I entered my house and immediately collapsed on the sofa.
Parents and Amy (my little sister) were away that evening. I really wanted to close my eyes and open them only the next morning. But sadly, I couldn't. I still had a submission for school to be done for the next day, but I knew what I was going for when decided to go to the concert instead of completing the task. However, right then I absolutely needed to rest for at least half an hour before starting my work. "But what should I do in this time" I thought. "Oh right, I've brought home a trophy. I think I should at least look at it and make sure it's not damaged". After extracting a pile of black vinyl from my backpack, I grabbed an electric pump we used to inflate pooltoys with, plugged it in the valve and pushed the switch. It took around 3 minutes to fill the beachball with air. "Oh man" – I was finally able to observe it in a calm and quiet atmosphere – "This thing looked a bit smaller to me at the concert, and I don't remember it taking long to deflate it". In fact, it did take long, but the immense excitement right then made us perceive it as just a couple of minutes. "Oh well, I guess that if even I got surprised by its size, Amy will be certainly amazed. I think I should throw this toy in a pool". Before going outside and putting the ball in its appropriate place, I decided to kick it a few times, so that it bounces off the wall, just for fun. When I was about to swing my leg once more, I somehow managed to stumble on my other leg (I'm clumsy as hell) and shrieked "OH CRAP" as my face started approaching the floor. But right at that moment the ball rolled back from the wall and I was falling precisely onto it. "Even worse" I thought cuz I was genuinely sure that the toy would instantly pop under my body weight. But it endured without any complaints and saved me from an unpleasant meeting with the firm ground. "Oh thank God, I need to get up and carry this ball outside before I injure myself". But... I didn't want to. Lying on this huge soft ball just felt... comfortable. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the toy's surface. "Have it always been so comfy?" – wondered I while gently squeezing the ball to my chest – "Maybe I sho... WAIT. What the hell is that now? Am I getting intimate with an inflatable ball? Oh gosh, I must be really tired if my brain performs such stuff... I should get to work immediately". I grabbed my laptop and headed towards the desk. At first it all went quite well, but I quickly found myself barely able to keep my eyes open and willing to tilt forward and lay my head on the table. I couldn't continue working like that. An interesting thought visited my mind: "If it held my weight just well, it wouldn't mind being used as a chair would it?"
My usual seat was moved away, being replaced with the big black beachball. It was inflated just perfectly for me to sit on the same height. I was made to keep the balance all the time, it certainly helped to concentrate on my work without falling asleep. In process, I was slightly moving my hips back and forth, from side to side, even bouncing up and down on the ball a little, just to keep my mind awake. Half an hour had passed, and even though I still was not about to fall asleep, something was wrong. And this something was draining my concentration. I listened closely to my inner feelings and at first even thought that I was mistaken. "Why would I feel like that right now? There's no way it's this thing again..." I have moved my focus to the beachball, that had slightly stretched over the time, causing me to sink deeper into the vinyl. I squeezed it with my hands and heard a tiny squeak, which made this weird feeling increase, and then it became clear to me. There are plenty of words to describe this phenomena: turned on, horny, aroused... But the fact was obvious, this beachball made me feel it. "This... Makes no sense. C'mon, Kate, you're just exhausted. You need ten more minutes, and you can go to sleep. Now concentrate and finish this!" I grabbed the handle of a cupboard underneath the table surface and pulled it harshly, too harshly... A pop sound came, as the sharp corner of the cupboard pierced the thin vinyl of my ball. I gasped and pushed the shelf back inside. The air was leaving the toy with a hissing noise through a small hole. The tension inside my stomach had risen like mad. That was the moment when I gave up my rational thinking. I sank one hand into my panties, gripping on the ball's surface with the other, and then gave all of myself to pleasure. I hadn't expected riding my beachball to feel more enjoyable than probably anything else I'd experienced so far. Using folded vinyl as a handle, I tried to bounce away from the table, which was actually quite difficult due to the ball losing more air every minute and becoming less tight. Every time the beachball got squeezed between me and the floor, a wave of pleasure ran through my body. The squeaks, the air hissing sound, the soft stretchy material, why was I enjoying it so much? I decided to leave that question unanswered and keep riding my deflating ball. I lasted for around 8 minutes and with a quiet moan collapsed on the toy in pure bliss. Now feeling comfortable from being on top of the beachball was absolutely justufied. It had already deflated by one third and was still gradually going flat. I hugged the injured toy tightly and even gave it a kiss, as I was feeling absolutely wonderful. I had already prepared to unplug the valve and puff in some air to have more fun with this lovely beachball, but suddenly remembered that my homework was still not finished. Moreover, I could damage the toy further. "You know what, my friend? Now I don't think I'll show you to anyone else in this house... And we'll have fun whenever we are left alone" – I said that aloud and opened the valve.
The next time when I was the only person at home, as much as I wanted to grab the pump and repeat the marvelous ride I had on my beachball earlier, I first needed to fix it. I had already prepared glue and scissors, but hadn't though about a source for the patch. We had only one inflatable toy besides my new one, and it was a small 24" beachball Amy sometimes played with. It was certainly not right to sacrifice my sister's toy for such purpose, but right then I had no other choice. I went outside and took the ball out of the pool. "I'm sorry, little one" – I whispered and dug two nails right into the seam. The air started to escape, and the toy instantly lost its tightness. Goosebumps went down my body and I shivered a little. "Ss-so, with smaller ones t-this works too? No, focus, Kate! You have a different goal right now". Not to tease myself further, I moved my arms away from each other, tearing the poor ball apart. Soon a white patch was glued securely to the black vinyl panel. Yeah, that barely looked natural, but at least, I got back the ability to ride my beachball safely. It had to lie still for a day at least and I had to be patient. Even though it was my first experience of fixing pool toys, I seemed to have succeeded. The hissing sound was not there when I inflated the ball again, and it wasn't either when I took a seat on it. A wide smile appeared on my face unintentionally. "Welcome back, bouncy friend. Ready for today's playing?" – never before had I thought that I'd be talking to an inflatable ball in all seriousness, but here I was and didn't see anything shameful in it. "But this time... I don't think I need my clothes on" – in a minute I was already straddling my toy completely naked, feeling the soft vinyl with every inch of my bare thighs skin. The enjoyment of playing with my beachball without clothes was on a whole different level, and this time I didn't restrain myself to one short ride. 30 minutes of intense bouncing and riding were endured perfectly by my wondeful toy. The patch was still there, safe and sound, and I got proud of myself once again for fixing the ball so professionally.
Earlier, I was never really happy about parents leaving the house with Amy, as I had no one to talk to at that moments. But now I was looking forward to every such occasion and the alone time I'd have with my beachball. I even think that I got a little addicted to it, as I was using every opportunity to inflate my toy and have a ride. Fortunately, I had never been caught by my parents or sister. A few months had passed, my beachball remained undamaged and hadled my playing just well. That was good, because rarely did I actually try to play gently and not make the ball withstand my bouncing weight. One day all of us fell ill, and during 3 weeks none of us were able to leave the house for long, hence there was no chance for me to puff my toy up. At some point I was just thinking that I wouldn't be able to take it anymore and would try to inflate my ball secretely. Luckily, not long after, parents and Amy got well and left the house for a whole evening. Once I heard the door lock turn, I ran like hell straight to my room and opened the wardrobe, where the pump and my precious beachball were stored. "There you are... I missed you so much..." – I hugged the pile of black vinyl, as if it was my best friend I hadn't seen for months. I connected the pump and switched it on. My hands were shaking as I was watching the toy inflate and expand with a childish excitement. Soon the ball became tight, maybe even slightly overinflated. Having disconnected the pump and closed the valve safely, I was ready to do it. Without any foreplay or warm-up, I jumped on my firmly inflated beachball and started riding it wildly, like there was no tomorrow. My mind was devoid of any thoughts, it was just me and the pure pleasure, that I was unable to feel for the long 3 weeks. Fingers of one hand was inside my wet pussy and the other was squeezing my breast. It felt amazing... Just like the first time I found myself enjoying riding this toy. Both the squeaks of the ball and my breathing were loud and harsh, and for some time these were the only sounds filling the room... Until hissing became clearly audible. I immediately stopped moving and it didn't take long to find the leak. If the hole the cupboard had made back then was relatively "safe" and I could theoretically keep riding the ball without even patching it, this one was right on the seam, could expand at any moment and put an end to my fun, as the damage would probably be irrepairable. I should have got off my favorite toy, if I wanted to prolong its life, but... not only did I stay on the ball, but I started to bounce even harder. Just like that time, the hissing sound drove me crazy, and that ride was a race, who would give up first: me or my ball? The understanding of having limited time to enjoy my big inflatable friend made me intensify my moves every minute, and that was gradually making the leak bigger. At some point I stopped helping myself with my hands, and instead gripped on the vinyl with them. Now I was just rubbing my pussy over the soft black material and it probably more looked like I was bouncing on a big space hopper. "Please... Don't give up yet... Just a little more" – I spoke quietly. In a few minutes I actually lost the race, my mind went numb and, moaning loudly, I collapsed on the half-flat ball. A couple of seconds later with a POP sound the seam had finally tore apart, and I fell right on the floor.
Sweaty, heavily breathing and ecstatic, I was lying on my popped beloved beachball. It was sad to realise that it wouldn't be able to make me feel good again, but that ride... was an exceptional pleasure. Now I had to hide everything and probably go take a bath not to attract any suspections. Now I had a dillema, I needed to replace my old toy, but this time I wanted it to be durable enough to withstand my roughest rides. And I went right to the Internet, where actually ended up discovering who looners are. Earlier I actually thought that I was the only person to love beachballs THAT much. Various videos of men and wowen bouncing on inflatables, which were enduring them just well, were really hot, but the prices of such toys... Damn capitalists, they know how to earn money on one's fetish. Therefore, I stuck to the big cheap beachballs I could find in stores nearby. They were doing their job just well, and sometimes were even softer, but gave up far more quickly than my lovely Metallica ball did. Anyway, I was happy to know that much more people like me existed around the world. But how nice it would be to meet such person in life... And even if I do, who could it be...
s-l1200.jpg
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