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About a week had passed since the BB gun balloon bust and I was lounging on the bench that was on the porch of the general store drinking a Coke. It was a fairly hot day and as always I was wearing my boy scout outfit, minus the knee socks. I spied Dave and Mike coming up the street from their house. They were wearing the longer blue denim shorts their mother had just finished making them topped off with their green gym tee shirts from school. As they came up I looked them over and noted that the additional four inches of leg length over that provided by the scout shorts that I had given them made them look both older and sexier. The legs of their shorts were really full cut and the boys were nearly able to walk with a normal stride without having their thighs push the hems back and forth. The heavy new material that their mother had used was so stiff that the legs of their shorts looked like two cones hanging down from their waist. I hoped the shorts their mom said she was making for me would look as good on me.

I gave my buddies a wolf whistle. Dave just grinned as he said, "At least I don't feel quite as naked and exposed as with your skimpier scout shorts, and I don't have to be afraid they will rip off me if I catch my pant leg on something."

Dave put his leg up on the bench and I grabbed the hem of his shorts. The hem was a good two inches wide and all the seems were triple stitched with heavy canvas stitching thread. The shorts were made from a heavy blue cotton denim that felt as thick as the canvas in my army field tent I had that the boys and I would use for camping.

The boys went into the store, bought themselves each a bottle of pop, and joined me on the bench. We had run out of things to do and we were only about three and a half weeks into the summer vacation. I know what I would have loved to do: get my friends involved in some serious, sensual, balloon busting. However because I was concerned about appearing overly fond of my rubber toys as well as the thought of having my newly acquired stock quickly decimated by my unfeeling balloon buster buddies, I kept my thoughts to myself. I was really dying to know if I could get either of them hot with balloon play when Dave suddenly said, "Why don't we see how high we can shoot those long balloons we got at the carnival."

They had each bought about a dozen from the novelty stand they had helped me run. I said, "Great Idea. Go fetch them and come over to my house; I have some that I got for myself."

The boys showed up at the house within five minutes. Along with their balloons they had brought along with them the shorts their mom had made for me. I was quite comfortable with the scout shorts I was wearing but I felt it would be disrespectful of me not to put on their mom's shorts then and there and give them a try. I zipped up to my room and slipped into them. Compared to the thinner softer scout shorts they were stiff and a bit uncomfortable, but oh so roomy. The wide hems hung just above my knees. I planted my right foot on my desk chair and noted the generous full hang of the leg below my thigh. I felt around up the leg and noted that even the short legs of my baggy gym shorts were not in any way restricted by the heavy blue cloth now covering my upper legs.

I grabbed about a dozen of my airship balloons and a big fistful of the 12 inch rounds from my using stash in the rear of my bureau drawer and jammed them into one of the spacious pockets. Then I hurried back down to the waiting boys.

Summer days I was home alone. My dad and step mom both worked and my much younger stepbrother spent the day at his grandmothers which was about a mile and a half from our place. I was always very discrete in playing with balloons outside on the property because the likelihood of passing motorists who knew us would see me. As a result I restricted my at home balloon play to our large barn or the cellar. Numbers breeds confidence, however, so I figured it wouldn't look too bad for me  if the three of us were out in the yard romping about in our sexy knee pants and ballooning away.

There was a bit of a breeze that afternoon and after surveying for a possible launching site around our sizable yard I quickly decided we would soon wind up with most of the balloons getting hung up in the trees. I didn't think dad would appreciate looking at brightly colored wilting rubber strips hanging here and there about the property, so I suggested we take a hike to the old farm way down in the woods where we had popped off all the balloons on the wire fence a week earlier.

As soon as we reached the old farm we got immediately to work. We each began inflating the long 5 footers to the max starting from the far end first so we could get them fully inflated without chancing a pop. The two fields separated by the barbed wire fence we had used earlier had a total of about 8 acres clear of trees and large brush. This would provide plenty of drift space for the falling balloons without them getting snagged on trees out of reach.

Our first shots went great. The balloons were nice and straight and the fresh unused rubber provided sufficient thrust to get them 50 feet or more into the air. Once air was exhausted the spent balloons then came fluttering slowly to earth and we rushed like outfielders to intercept them so their tender rubber skins wouldn't get ripped by any brier bushes or thistles that dotted the fields. This was done at the expense of our own leg flesh, however. I was glad we weren't wearing our scout knee socks or they would have been well ripped up by the end of our play session. As it was, by the time we were done, we were all sporting splotches of the red badge of courage between our ankles and the hems of our shorts from contact with the rough underbrush. Our legs would have had even a rougher time if we had been wearing the shorter scout shorts.

The balloons were sent aloft again and again. On each inflation the rubber at the neck end distended more and more, and the fatter balloons with dwindling thrust were only getting up in the air about 20 to 30 feet. After about the 10th shot, Dave didn't bother to retrieve his now tired balloon, but pulled out a fresh one. His brother, noticing the dwindling lack of thrust after  his next shot followed suit. On my next inflation I decided I would put my balloon out of it's misery the honorable way, so I just kept blowing. I was surprised how much more stretch the tired rubber still had left. Finally my balloon had all it could take. It burst with a sort of "poom" sound. A large long rectangular piece of rubber tore off the neck I had gripped in my fingers and fluttered to earth about 5 yards in front of me. The balloon had ripped neatly from the neck to the far end straight down the side.

I picked up the super soft rubber sheet and inhaled it's delightful aroma as I gently fondled it in my fingers. At that point I noticing an oozing scrape just below my knee. I laid the rubber flat over the wound and tied the ends together behind my leg forming a brightly colored band just below my knee like Native Americans wear for ceremonial dances. The brothers noticed the addition I had made to my attire. To my surprise as their balloons wore out and they popped the boys also salvaged the torn rubber bands and affixed them around their legs as well as their arms.

After about 25 minutes of flying the airship balloons  we were pretty well winded and were all sporting brightly colored rubber bands below our knees, on our upper arms, and around our heads, sweatband style. We used un popped balloons for this latter function and even with our sweat and body heat shrinking the rubber they were not uncomfortably tight on our heads.

Because of the inflation effort that was being expended fully inflating the balloons to shoot them up as rockets the brothers decided that a one time shot into a particularly menacing clump of briers, instead of into the air, would speed up the popping process. They released their balloons horizontally about 25 feet in front of the bushes. The balloons leapt from their hands and zoomed headlong to their doom. I found the scene disgusting. The balloons hit the briers with only the neck half of the balloon still inflated. The tired 'poof' as the still inflated portion of the balloon split open was a total turn off. What a waste of good rubber. The rear half of their balloons was still intact and lay draped over the thorny branches with the split open front half still attached. My staff went from half mast to totally limp in nothing flat. I had to come up quickly with some other form of balloon fun or their remaining 560 airship balloons would get wasted in a similar fashion. I wasn't about to loose the enjoyment of watching well inflated balloons getting sensually busted by my bare kneed buddies if I could help it.

At this point I figured each of the brothers had either 4 or 5 of the long balloons left. I still had six because I wasn't about to waste the beautiful 560's in my pocket on a close encounter with a brier bush. I also had about 4 dozen of the 11" round balloons. I noted with some optimism that the brothers even appeared to be a bit disappointed in the less than spectacular death of the balloons they launched into the briers.

I was desperately trying to think of a fun way (at least fun for me) to enjoy the remaining airship balloons. I was hoping they would call it quits for the day and save the others for some other time when suddenly Dave said, "I wonder how big these babies will really get ."

My stem flew to attention as he started to inflate a fresh rubber tube with hefty lung fulls of youthful air. His brother and I stood a few feet from him and watched as all the available rubber down to his lips was pressed into service to contain the ever increasing volume of air. I was transfixed by his solid well muscled legs and arms sticking out beyond the hems of the baggy shorts and shirt he was wearing as he puffed away. Man, what a balloon busting machine.

I was jerked out of my reverie by the loud BOOM as the balloon performed it's final life function in splendid style. The sound reverberated off the trees at the far end of the field. As with all the others it ripped down the length and the long rectangular piece of rubber flew in a lazy arc and landed about 20 feet in front of Dave. The stub of the neck was still in his mouth and the round piece from the far end had flown off somewhere else, never to be found. He retrieved the rectangular remains of his balloon and slipped it into his pocket with the comment that it would make good 'rubber' for a slingshot. He then challenged us to duplicate his effort. Man, now that's a challenge that could really turn me on!

I had never seen Dave's brother Mike inflate a balloon purposely to burst it. I was hoping if he had a problem with this that he wouldn't get too embarrassed or feel shamed. Two years ago I wouldn't have had the guts to pop one of these beauties this way either, so I quickly pulled out a 560 from my pocket and started blowing away. My audience watched attentively; the balloon, I hoped, not my shorts which were also inflating from my rapidly hardening tool. I finished the balloon off with confidence since I knew that, barring flaws, they tend to burst from the neck end out. The balloon burst with another resounding BOOM. Dave retrieved the rubber sheet for his slingshot project. Now it was Mikey's turn to show us what he could do with his balloon.

Now I knew Mike had no problem with normal inflation. He would readily blow rounds pear shaped, but at this moment he looked far less confident than his year older brother. He made some comment about seeing how high he could get his balloon to fly, but Dave wasn't buying it. He wanted to see if his younger brother had what it takes to blow up his balloon until it burst.

Mike took his balloon and reluctantly started blowing away as Dave and I watched closely. He soon had it fully inflated and the expanding wall of air was pulling what remained of the balloon neck away from his lips. He was a lung full, two max , from burst. I could see his confidence was beginning to waver and I thought he was about to chicken out and just let the neck slip through his fingers allowing the balloon to rocket away. Mikey needed some immediate encouragement. I suddenly shouted "YOU CAN DO IT MIKE! YOU CAN DO IT MIKE."

Dave quickly took up the chant. Mike suddenly ashamed of his fear gave one last mighty blow and BOOM his balloon was history. I never saw Mikey so happy, or relieved. He had passed his first balloon busters initiation. His brother Dave was smiling too.

Dave and I knew that Mike had to bust some more balloons by over inflating them right away before his new found confidence waned. I really didn't want to see our limited dwindling supply of airships popped off in this way, so I quickly handed Mike one of the round 12 inch balloons I had brought with the comment, "Here Mike; bust these."

No one questioned where the balloon had come from, and Mike went right to work on it. Round balloons are generally easier to over inflate and these had nice long necks which was a plus. We watched intently as Mike's balloon pear shaped and the expanding neck reached his fingers. With his new found confidence he didn't even hesitate on the last blast although I saw he had his eyes closed (always a smart move if you are not wearing glasses). The bang when it burst was almost as loud as the airship had made. Being a smaller balloon a lot less rubber shrapnel was produced. Looking like a mass of spaghetti the bulk of it shredded and landed in the grass a few feet in front of him.

I handed Mike about a half dozen more round balloons with the comment that when he finished those off he would never be afraid of popping any balloon again. Dave was anxious to bust a few as well so I handed him some to pop. Watching the boys in their sexy shorts standing at attention in front of me as they methodically blew up their balloons one by one until they each burst soon had my rod to the bursting point as well. No question I was soon going to need ball room relief.

I was hoping to limit the number of balloons just getting blown up until they popped because I wanted to have a sufficient supply left in the event I could find a way to get my buddies involved in some really stimulating balloon play. I was hoping some physical balloon contact between us might lead to some direct hands on sexual interaction. I was trying to think of something we could do to get us out of the blow to pop mode we were in when Dave piped up, "Hay you got some more that I can bust?"

Oh well; easy come, easy pop. The three of us just stood there in the field having a merry old balloon circle POP. Wow was I stimulated by the loud BANGs and the flying rubber shrapnel. However what I desperately needed was more sensuous fun with our balloons. We had just finished our third balloon bust race when Mike called for a time out. That had been his sixth inflate to bust in a little over five minutes and he appeared on the verge of hyperventilating. While the boys were catching their breath I blew up another round balloon to a good squeezing size and tied it off. Now I felt was the time to change the direction of our play.

I walked over to Dave and squished the balloon in his face twisting it about to make it squeal. This caused him to instinctively put up his hands to push the balloon away so he could breathe. The balloon shrieked in protest between our four hands as he tried to push it back into my face. I was hoping he wouldn't purposefully gouge the rubber with his nails just to get rid of the balloon; but would allow our contest to continue until our rubber toy broke naturally from the abuse we were giving it.

I wasn't disappointed. Dave seemed to like our balloon tussle as he repeatedly tried to squash the rubber sphere on my face. The thin rubber skin withstood over a minute of our torture before finally tearing. Man was I hot. As we fought over the balloon my fully inflated stem was whacking back and forth in the freedom afforded by the gym shorts I was wearing under my new denim shorts.

When the balloon broke Dave remarked as he pulled another round balloon out of his pocket and started blowing away, "Hey that was fun."

My thoughts raced wild. If I could just keep the momentum of this body contact type of balloon play going for another ten minutes or so the boys would surely have to be psyched to the point where they would need a whack off to go with our pop off. As Dave, Mike, and I fought over the new balloon I could see the problem was going to be that our play would being interrupted by the necessity of stopping to inflate replacements for the balloons as they broke.

Because there was an intermittent breeze that afternoon we couldn't just pile inflated balloons on the ground because the wind would quickly blow them around until they were punctured and popped by the brush and tall grass in the field. I looked over at the dilapidated barn and said, "Lets blow up a bunch of them and play with them in the barn. They will be out of the wind and won't get busted until we need them."

I was afraid this sudden change of pace might break the spell but it didn't. The three of us went racing the 100 yards or so over to the old barn. By the time we completed our dash the boys had the next balloons out. We all emptied the toys from our pockets and made a pile on a small broken down table that was in the corner of what had probably been the milking parlor. As we puffed away the pile of inflated balloons on the floor next to the table grew. Soon we got to the remaining 560's and they joined the pile of multicolored stretched rubber on the floor.

Although we were on the ground level floor of a bank barn there was a reasonable amount of light filtering in owing to sections of missing roof and loft flooring. We had light enough to have fun but I wasn't sure I would be able to visually check out the results of our play regarding the boys sexual stimulation. There was no question in my mind that when we got down to just a few balloons remaining I would go for it with dad's direct crotch grab approach if necessary. I knew the boys wore boxer under shorts if they wore any at all so I didn't feel discerning a stiff rod on either of them would involve extensive probing, but I hadn't counted on how stiff and heavy their new denim shorts were.

As Mike knotted the last balloon, all hell broke loose. We each made a dive for the pile of balloons on the floor, scooping up as many as possible and pushing them into each others faces, asses, crotches, and between our legs, depending on our relative positions at the moment. The rubber squealed in protest as we crushed the balloons on each others bodies and scrubbed them on the exposed skin of our legs, arms, and faces. I was surprised at how much pressure and twisting it took to bust the balloons on the boys knees and faces. It was balloon popping pandemonium.

For the most part the round balloons went first. They were easier to grab and control in regard to squashing them into each other. We were rolling over each other on the ground that was covered with several inches of decayed wood, hay, and no doubt manure. I was in such a frenzy I almost forgot why I had engineered all this fun. I could feel the pre cum dribbling all over the crotch and legs of my gym shorts. How I avoided shooting a massive load out the full cut leg of my shorts I'll never know. Forget about saving any balloons for potentially later sex play. I knew at this point they were all goners.

As we got down to mostly the long airship balloons left I shoved the end of one of them between my legs and yanked the end of it well up into my crotch. Mike stood right in front of me and grabbed the other end and shoved it up his crotch between his legs. We pulled away from each other stretching the balloon longer and longer until the rubber started to slip between out thighs. I thought how much more enjoyable this would be wearing thin gym shorts instead of the heavy canvas ones we had on. As it was, the feeling of the tight rubber sliding between my legs and under my balls was driving me wild. I looked at Mike and he seemed to be really enjoying himself. Before the balloon pulled completely free from one of us it burst, tearing essentially in half then splitting open for most of it's length. Dave and I popped off a few more of the long ones this way.

Finally with just a few balloons left we found ourselves rolling around in a heap in the dung and dust of 30 years or more of decay. This would be my last opportunity to collect the data I had been seeking. Mike was next to be rolling over on his back and I took the opportunity to give the fly area of his shorts a quick squeeze. If either brother was going to be stimulated by balloon play I was sure it would be Mikey. Alas there were no noticeable signs that he was aroused. Checking out Dave would be a bit riskier without making my intentions obvious, but a moment later I got an opportunity to trip Dave and I managed to give him a quick feel. Wow! To my astonishment Dave's dick was hard as hard and stiff as a length of pipe. He had obviously really been enjoying himself. I wondered if Mike would have also been aroused if he had tried the airship balloon in his crotch play. I would definitely be performing additional balloon experiments with Dave in the future.

Because Mike didn't appear to be aroused, I didn't want to chance pushing any sex play, although my balls were aching for relief, unless they both had showed signs that they might be interested. As we got up and brushed ourselves off as well as we could my raging sexual fire was dampened by the knowledge that one of the boys had also tested me. I wasn't sure, but I suspected it was Dave. I hid my disappointment as Mike suddenly killed the moment by announcing to his brother, "That was fun, but kind of silly. Dave, I think we had better head on home."

We rounded up all the torn rubber we could find in the barn and stuck it under a large rock out in the field. The shredded remains of the balloons in the field we blew up until they popped we left lay except for a few large sheets of rubber from the airship balloons that Dave again pocketed for his slingshot project. The other airship balloon remains we had tied around our arms, legs, and heads. I really didn't like leaving all the other busted balloons laying around out in the field so I made a point of coming back the next day and thoroughly cleaning up all the fragments I could find.

We headed on back and the boys took their leave about a half mile from my house. By the time I got home it was late and my stepmother and brother were already there. Little brother spotted me as soon as I started across the yard and came rushing out toward me.

"Please, please, can I have some of these," he was screeching as he waved his arms excitedly in my direction.

YIKES! I was in such a state of euphoria from the balloon fun I didn't realize I was still sporting the rubber balloon arm, leg, and headbands I had been wearing since we busted the airship balloons earlier in the afternoon. If I were to give him one and dad would see it my balloons, shorts, and ass would surely get burned; probably in that order. Fortunately I was wearing my well sweat soaked scout neckerchief which I quickly pulled off, finished rolling, and tied around his head. It wasn't what he wanted but he was ecstatic anyway as he raced in to show mom. As soon as he turned and ran for the house I quickly pulled off my rubber decorations hoping he wouldn't mention them to his mother. When I got to the house my step mom demanded to know why I had tied my sweaty, smelly, neck rag around junior's neck. I said truthfully, "He insisted".

The ruckus he made when she made him take it off substantiated my claim and also caused him to forget about my other decorations. As a result nothing more came of the incident except I lost a good neckerchief to my stepbrother.

I was surprised she didn't ask where I hod gotten my new blue denim shorts, but as I found out later, she and dad had been told by my friends mom that she wanted to make a couple of pair of shorts for me as well as for her boys. When dad came home saw them he thought they looked great on me. He suggested I should save them to wear for school in the fall because their longer length was more modest and didn't make me look so boyish. His chilling words gave me a sick feeling in my gut and dread fell over me. I vowed to really step up my exercise and weight training workouts. Revision Date 2/03.
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