Please Visit Our Sponsor

By this time it was about 6 PM and Bob noted that he was getting hungry so we headed for the kitchen. I had assumed we would go to the one and only diner in the area for chow but he quickly informed me he planned to cook a repast fitting for his guest. This put me at ease because my dad thought we were on an overnight camp out and people that knew my father would surely see us if we went out.

After stuffing ourselves it had grown dark outside and I wondered what my friend had planned for our next activity. Frankly, even though it was only about 7, I was having trouble staying awake; and I actually had had enough huffing, puffing, and balloon popping to last me for the next month. All our balloon busting followed by the swim had plain tuckered me out.

At this point, ever full of energy, Bob suggested we should take in the latest movie. So much for not being seen. Then he really floored me when he suggested we go dressed in our short short scoutfits.

"No way in hell am I going to walk into the movies dressed like this," I bellowed.

Then he grinned that he was thinking about the drive in located some ten miles away. If we hustled we could get there before the show started.

I really didn't want to chance being seen, especially dressed as I was, but I was tired of balloon play so I agreed to go. Drive in movies in the fall of '51 for the first show mainly attracted families with younger kids. The older guy / gal teens didn't show up until later so it reduced the chance of being spotted bare kneed by our peers.

I made a point of taking a good long pee before we left because I had no intention of getting out of Bob's car to go the refreshment stand where the rest rooms were located and showing off my pretty legs. I also chickened out and switched to the more modest shorts I was wearing when I came. Bob chided me on my lack of guts. It would be risky enough not having my leg flesh seen at the entrance pay booth. Two teen age boys together in a car would raise suspicions; dressed in our short 'hot pants' as we were would eliminate any doubt.

As usual it was a double feature with the family type flick shown first and a "B" rated, more risqué, i.e. kissing and stuff, for the follow up which was replayed after intermission for the benefit of the later crowd. Bob did park off to the side and there were empty stalls on either side of us, so no one paid us any attention. I really didn't enjoy the first movie and found I was dozing off through the latter half. The second was worse, filled with a lot of contrived love scenes designed to send sublimal sex messages to the teen couples. Of course now days they just let everything hang out and slap an "R" rating for 'raunchy' on these flicks.

About half way through the movie while I was in a semi doze Bob apparently got the movies subtle message because I suddenly found his left hand working its way up inside the left leg of my shorts. He was turned toward me and as I snapped awake he smiled and said, "Don't be afraid; just let me play with you a little bit."

He pushed his hand further up my pants leg until the tips of his fingers were massaging my sack. In order to get the extra reach he had to lean closer to me and I suddenly felt he was going to kiss me. I jerked my head away and snapped, "You try and kiss me and I'll bust you right in the chops."

Bob quickly withdrew his hand as he mumbled, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. And no, I wasn't planning to kiss you. I just needed a little relief, that's all."

He sounded sincere but with all the sexual relief we had already had I couldn't see how he really needed any more, especially in such a public place. Without further comment he started the car and we quickly headed out of the drive in. I'm sure he felt as I did that someone would have probably herd my belligerent comment.

As we drove out I wasn't sure if he was mad at me or totally embarrassed. I really would have liked to have him take me home because I really didn't want to chance any more sexual misunderstandings. But then what would I tell my father; that I had a falling out with my Saturday night 'date'? Additionally I was really looking forward to playing with the large target balloons he said that he had, so I apologized for jumping to what was probably the right conclusion. He said he would not touch me again unless I asked him to and I said that would be fine. Damn though, I really did like having him touch me in my sensitive spots when we were playing with the balloons earlier.

As we drove up his driveway Bob remarked, "You ready for some real balloon fun?"

"You mean the big ones you said you had?" I queried.

"Yeah," he replied. "Wait until you feel these babies up against your flesh."

I headed for the rec room and Bob went upstairs to get his large balloons.

We were fortunate for our balloon blowing friend Mr. Electrolux, because I could see blowing ourselves silly using our breath to blow up one of his big red beauties. As I suspected they were the same construction as the two orange weather balloons dad had got me from the airport years earlier. They were 100% natural rubber and as the Electrolux roared away the balloon attached to the nozzle just kept getting bigger and bigger. Bob said they were four footers, but the balloon he was inflating was rapidly hiding him behind a wall of thin rubber that was well over five feet and growing. I really wasn't afraid of the pop that ultimately was coming, but I hated to see such a large lovely plaything so quickly destroyed, so I said, "Don't bust it. Lets have some fun with it first."

"Don't panic, little buddy, " Bob replied. "They get bigger than this before they pop. I'm just softening up the rubber so we can have more fun."

Bob gave the balloon another half minute or so of air from Mr. Electrolux then removed the neck from the hose and allowed the air to escape until the balloon was down to about it's rated four foot diameter. He handed me the balloon to hold while he went to fetch some string to tie off the neck. Sure enough, the balloon was super soft and oh so bouncy. I could only reach about half way around the monster as I squeezed it against my chest. The luscious sweet honeysuckle smell of the rubber as I pressed the skin against my face had me all a tingle. Yes indeed these balloons would be fun indeed to play with. Bob tightly wrapped the string around the neck and knotted it.

Bob then inflated a second large balloon to about five feet diameter. Then he removed the balloon from the nozzle and released it. The balloon slowly bounced and turned between the floor and ceiling until it collapsed in a large puddle of red rubber on the floor. He re-inflated it a second time, blowing it even bigger, before he let it lazily bound away from him. Again he inflated it far a third time. I was wondering how much more stretch the rubber had left. It was resting on the floor and was at least as high as Bob was tall when it suddenly burst with a deep PHOOM. A couple of large sheets of rubber flew away landing in soft crumpled heaps on the floor. It wasn't a loud sharp pop like the party balloons we had been busting. Bob was wearing a shit eating grin as he exclaimed. "Hay did you like that? I always wondered how big these babies would get before they busted; now I know."

I had little doubt the large ripped sheets of rubber were going to be tossed or burned along with the huge bag full of the smaller balloon remnants. I could visualize a good deal of sensual sexual stimulation for me from playing with the busted balloon so without any reservation of what Bob might think I walked over and pocketed the two large main remnants of the balloon. While I was doing this Bob grabbed the soft inflated balloon in both hands, held it in front of him, and ran over and pressed it into the front of me. We grabbed hands as we squeezed the balloon between us. The soft compliant rubber was pressing against my entire chest, as well as my arms and knees. It felt good and my stem sprang to life.

Bob began to do a slow dance and as we moved about the rubber squeaked as it reluctantly slid about over our bare legs and arms. It was obvious that if there was more bare flesh then there would be more squeaking, so I suggested that we should remove our scout shirts and shorts. I'm sure Bob was wishing that I meant remove everything, but I left my gym short underpants on so Bob did as well.

We then resumed our balloon dancing. Yum yum good. Inside of sixty seconds my tool was at full attention forming a bulge in the front of my shorts. I noticed Bob was experiencing a 'woody' as well. Darn I thought; I'm having so much fun if I shoot my load now I'll lose all interest in this wonderful sensuous rubber toy. Bob seemed to sense my dilemma and asked me if I was ready shoot or did I want to hold off a bit. I told him I wanted to wait.

We squeezed the balloon between us for several more minutes. I had little doubt the soft rubber contact was doing more for me than Bob because he made a point of insuring I got maximum contact especially on my legs even though this often meant he had to push the balloon away from himself. Finally we had moved to the side of the room and the couch was right behind me. Bob told me to sit down and he leaned in toward me putting most of his weight on the balloon which promptly squished completely down over my knees and up against my face. He was pressing the balloon up against my body with his hands as well as his chest. He obviously wanted to bust the balloon between us. After several seconds of pressure the balloon popped with a deep POOM that reverberated in the large room. I suspect Bob might have helped things along by gouging it with his finger nails. When it let go Bob came crashing down on me and my face was pressed into the side of his neck and I got a good whiff of his manly smell.

Like the first one the balloon ripped into relatively few large pieces. Bob, having observed my salvage of the first balloon, quickly rounded them up.

Bob sensed I was ready to go and as I flopped over on my side he pulled my gym shorts down in the front. He wrapped one of the torn rubber sheets around my stem and started to stroke me. He handed me the other large sheet which I rubbed on my face as I breathed in the luscious rubber aroma. It took less than a minute for me to explode into the rubber ringing my stem. Bob couldn't feel my orgasm directly since it was trapped in the multiple folds of rubber, but my muscular body reflexes let him know I had shot over the top. And how! Whee, this was the best one yet and my third for the day.

After I came down I didn't think Bob would be ready to go since it had been several minutes since our toy had busted. Although I could care less about balloons at that point I was more than willing to play with another one for Bob's gratification. I was still lying on the couch with the waist of my shorts pulled down below my balls when Bob reached over. I just assumed he was going to pull my shorts back up and stow my totally limp tool. However instead he started fingering my limp dick once again. I was really surprised that he was able to massage life into it so soon. I let him play with me for a minute or so then I said, "Shall we blow up another balloon for you?"

Bob gave me a reproving look as he disgustedly growled, "I don't need children's rubber toys to sex me up."

I smiled and replied, "You just need me; right?" as I reached over and grabbed his stem through the thin wet cotton of his gym shorts.

I wasn't able to provide him much stimulation this way so he stopped fooling with me and I asked him, "Are you ready to trade places?"

Bob shot me a quick glance and replied, "Yes, but not here. Let's go up on my bed where we can both be comfortable."

I pulled my shorts up over my semi hard and followed him up to his bed room. As I passed by the balloon supply on the table I grabbed a couple dozen of the large paddle balloons. Maybe my buddy didn't need rubber toys but I found them much more stimulating than playing with his genitals.

In Bob's room our attire had been reduced to the loose white gym shorts, our knee socks with the garters under the roll at the top to keep them up, and our sneakers. As we were removing this last item Bob told me to hold off on taking off my stockings. He wanted to show me a quick way to remove them that some of the scouts used to insure they wouldn't have to wear the silly looking knee highs again.

I automatically assumed he was going to demonstrate how they could be easily destroyed. Having my stockings get ripped and torn on low brush down in the woods and then later putting them to the torch I found to be just as sexually stimulating as with the destruction of any of my other fetishes, so I was interested in his demonstration. In any case he was giving me several pair of the new style nylon stockings so I felt I was ahead of the game. On the other hand since my supply was limited I hated to see knee socks with potentially several hours of life left in them just destroyed for a moment's enjoyment.

Bob quickly produced a large Bowie style hunting knife and told me to stand sideways in front of him. I cringed and hesitated as I visualized the razor sharp point slicing down the side of my leg through the thin nylon. Bloody bloody mess, I thought. Bob, sensing my concern, laughed and said unless I moved he wouldn't cut me. I stepped closer and Bob, holding the knife perpendicular to the outside of my calf, plunged it with the flattened back of the blade against my skin down behind the stocking roll and garter. As he pressed the knife downward these bulged out to the side to accommodate the nearly two inch wide blade. As he slid the knife downward the razor sharp edge sliced through the extra thickness of nylon and then the garter itself, which I felt let go as most of the tension was relieved. Bob held up the limp top of the stocking as he pushed the knife down through the readily parting cotton. In a moment my stocking was a clump of olive drab cotton lying in a heap around my ankle. I turned my other leg toward Bob and he sliced my other stocking in two just as easily.

"Hay now. Wasn't that fun? Quicker and easier than undoing the garters and pulling 'em off," Bob chirped.

I smiled in agreement. Then he suddenly grabbed the bulge that had formed in my shorts from the stim of the stocking destruction. He then sarcastically remarked, "My my my. Short pants and even these silly knee socks really do turn you on. You really like being a little boy, don't you?"

Bob's stinging comment hurt but I knew it was probably true so I shot back. "Yes, so what."

Fortunately I held my tongue and didn't attack his obvious homosexual leanings or my visit and our friendship would have ended right on the spot. I had to admit I really enjoyed having a balloon busting buddy and although playing with him sexually didn't really turn me on I enjoyed having him whack me off. Having a partner allowed me to concentrate on my rubber toys. Bob grinned then added, "I'm glad that at least you at least like wearing shorts 'cause I like seeing your tough skinned knees and sexy legs."

Bob had twin beds in his room so there wasn't too much space between us as we lay on our side facing each other. Bob had noticed that I had brought up several of the large 24" paddle balloons that we had had so much fun squeezing and rubbing before. So always the perfect host, he suggested we blow them up for some rubber rubbing fun to get me properly revved up. We proceeded to do so while we were in our rather close positions. Unfortunately my growing stimulation kept getting interrupted by the one in four balloons that didn't survive the initial over inflation that we were giving them to soften them up. I was more considerate of the deteriorated state of the rubber and only had one suddenly bust in my face; but Bob finished managed to bust off four of them. Any sexual issues aside, I could see Bob really enjoyed breaking toy balloons.

There was no way the two of us and any quantify of the large balloons were going to fit in his bed so Bob jumped up, moved out the night stand from between his twin beds, and pushed the other one over against the one I was on. Now we had some room to pile a number of the large balloons between us. Even so there were eight to ten that remained on the floor.

Bob grabbed several of the balloons and pushed them under himself as he attempted to roll over on top of them. His effort took several tries during which time excessive pressure popped several of the balloons. Finally he made it and his six foot plus frame was pneumatically suspended on five balloons. It required all his effort to maintain this position on his unstable perch so it wasn't a particularly sexually stimulating maneuver. He then bent his legs applying additional force on the balloon that was under his knees and it went POOM. He then arched his back and the balloons under his lower belly and chest popped as well. This left him with the balloon under his feet and the one under his face. He pressed his head into the upper one and finished it off but his feet were keeping him from sufficiently squishing the lower balloon. He then raised his lower legs and managed to scoot the balloon to the very end of the bed allowing him to press his toes into the soft yielding rubber. I think his toe nails did it because the balloon quickly joined the four other busted ones. Bob's maneuvering while all this was occurring caused the balloons to emit a continuous tortured squeal as the rubber scrubbed under his flesh. By the time his toes had finished off the last one my stem was reasonably well inflated.

Bob then grabbed one of the balloons in his big paw and started rubbing it from below my knees up to my chest. In short order my tits were hard along with my tool. He made a point of being rough with the balloon so it didn't last very long. He quickly replaced it with another and continued stroking me. I figured I would give him some added incentive for his work as I pulled the waist of my shorts down exposing my short stiff dick. After about five minutes he had gone through four balloons and I was oozing goo. Bob asked if I was ready and I said, "Oh yes."

I figured he was going to give me a hand job but instead he quickly shifted sideways at right angles to me across the foot of the two beds and placed my stem in his mouth. His firm lips and tongue had me in orgiastic heaven within seconds. YES! YES! YES! This was better than any of my hand jobs. However as I came down from my fourth euphoric high for the day I realized that I now owed Bob two. I was hoping he wasn't going to request anything really kinky or disgusting.

Turned out he wasn't. His working on me and seeing me get all excited had created a nice wet spot in the front of his shorts below the waist band. As he resumed his position facing me he pulled down his shorts and grabbed my hand and placed it over his throbbing dick. Bob obviously wasn't concerned at this point about messing the bed and after less than two minutes of ecstatic groans he discharged his load into my hand. I tried to capture most of it but about half spilled out or oozed between my fingers creating wet spots on the bedcover.

There were still several balloons on the floor and while he was sitting on the edge of the bed Bob was able to corral a big fat green one with his outstretched leg and the tips of his toes and pull it towards him. When he got it next to the bed he plunked his bare size 12 foot down on it and slowly applied pressure. The pretty balloon flattened on the floor as his foot sank into the yielding rubber; nice and slow. Bob wanted to torture the balloon before it broke. I was surprised that the aged rubber held up as well as it did. However the pressure was finally too much as the balloon popped causing his foot to slam to the floor. The bulk of the shattered balloon formed a dark green spaghetti like ball a few feet from the bed.

Bob hopped off the bed and rounded up two more and tapped one in my direction. We performed a dual balloon squash in unison. However my balloon probably had a deteriorated area because it burst almost as soon as I applied pressure to it ripping into only three large pieces. Again Bob's balloon put up a good fight before bursting with a loud BANG.

At this point there were maybe eight balloons left, cowering in the far end of the room. As Bob went and retrieved two more I suggested some balloon wrestling might be a 'funner' way to bust them. He agreed, as he squished one of the two directly into my face. As I tried to push it away both our hands were deeply pressed into the rubber skin causing the balloon to protest loudly. I reminded him he was supposed to be trying to pull the balloon out of my grasp not crushing it against my bare body. Then he commented, "Yeah, but little buddy you sure seem to like getting rubbed with them even more."

Then for some unexplainable reason Bob snatched the balloon away from me, and before I realized what he was up to, he slammed it down on top of the front of my head. The rubber came down over my face all the way down to my mouth before the balloon busted . The suddenness of his action immediately erased the stimulation that had been building since he popped the first balloon so tantalizing with his foot. As he grabbed for the other balloon he had brought over I barked at him, "Hey man that wasn't any fun. Not sexy at all."

Bob gave me a shit eating grin and replied, "Ho ho. Now I thought it was."

I figured he was going to repeat busting another balloon in my face so I tried twisting and pulling to get the second balloon away from Bob; but it popped in less than thirty seconds.

Bob sensed I was 'ballooned out' and suggested we take a quick shower and hit the sack. I still had a couple of dry gym shorts from the six I brought so I went down to the rec room to get them. The two we were wearing had boy juice on them. When I returned Bob was already in the shower and he called loudly from the bath room to come join him. I had never had an occasion to visit his upstairs 'potty' so I didn't realize they actually had a fairly large stand alone shower in addition to a super large iron tub that had water jets around the sides.

Bob wanted me to get in the shower with him. I didn't suspect for a moment that he was not particularly interested in conserving water. Because he had gone out of his way to give me as good a time as he knew how 'my way' I felt obligated to let him have some fun 'his way'. As I finished undressing in his room he called for me to bring the remaining balloons. I could only easily handle four, two in each hand. In any case I figured there couldn't be that much additional room in the shower with the two of us in there.

Bob was rinsing off his head to toe lather and continued to do so as I stood in front of the shower stall. When he was done he shut off the water, slid the door open, and ushered me and the four balloons in. The shower was about three by four feet and there was actually room to move around a bit when the door was closed even with the bulky toys.

Bob turned on the water again which made a much louder roaring sound as the spray that missed his head and shoulders drummed on the balloons I was holding between us. Bob took one of them and positioned it over his penis then grabbed a hold around my waist and pulled me toward him. I grabbed him as well and we managed to compress two of the four balloons between us. The other two squirted out to the side with a satisfying wet squeal. Through the flattened balloon I saw Bob's dick rising and I sure enough could feel mine was inflating as well. We twisted and wiggled our hips as we had done earlier with the large balloon to scrub the rubber over our sensitive areas. The other balloon was between our chests and was doing a number on our tits as well. Because most of the pressure and rubbing was on the lower balloon it burst first after about a minute of our torture.

We then changed our grip to each others shoulders and just flattened the upper balloon. POOM. In the confines of the shower the pop felt like an explosion. Our bodies suddenly came into contact our tools pressing together. Bob encircled me with his arms in a bear hug keeping our bodies in tight contact. It felt good. Too damn good. I didn't even try to resist when he kissed my lips and ran his tongue around inside my mouth

Bob suddenly realized he had way overstepped the bounds of our relationship and he quickly shoved me away. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to do that,"  he managed to blurt out.

I was so busy trying to sort out my feelings of utter disgust on one hand and sexual ecstasy on the other I could think of nothing to say as he managed to bend over and retrieve the other two balloons from between our feet.

Both our stems were at full attention as we pressed them against one of the balloons which I began to twist in a circular motion between us. The water provided some lubrication on the rubber so the turning didn't produce too much discomfort as our dicks were twisted to one side. The rubbing quickly got to Bob because he started groaning and was about ready to blow his load so he thrust his hips toward me crushing the balloon between us. POOM, another explosion. He dropped the other balloon.

In a totally uncharacteristic for him meek and ashamed tone of voice he asked me if he could enter me. When he had brutally done this to me a few weeks before down in the woods it had been down right painful. He assured me that with all the water and a good soap job on his stick I might even enjoy it. I didn't really buy his assumptions;, but again Bob deserved to have his fun too, so I agreed to let him give it a try. It turned out to be far less painful than before and I felt his juice give me a mini enema along with a positive tingle. Actually I doubt that he was more than half way in my ass before he shot his load.

At this point I had gotten a handle on my feelings and they were negative. My dick had started to collapse when the balloon I was rubbing between us burst and was below half staff by the time he finished shooting his load in me. I turned around to face Bob. In any case he was on cloud nine and in no condition to take care of me. Finally he did notice my limp condition and bent over to pick up the last balloon but I had had enough so I quickly stomped on it, ending it's all too brief life. I told Bob I was OK and he left the shower so I would have room to wash off.

Bob was in seventh heaven and hadn't totally floated down even after we were toweled off and had donned another pair of dry gym shorts. We left the beds pushed together and hit the sack. Bob soon had his hand over on my side massaging my limp stem and balls through the cotton shorts. The thought of him actually 'loving' me left me cold and his efforts did not give me any arousal.

My sleep was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a balloon popping near my head. Bob had finished off one of the two that remained and as I sprang awake informed me that breakfast would be ready in five minutes. He was wearing one of the abbreviated scout shorts he had cut down the day before along with a tee shirt and ankle length socks. I donned a pair of the short shorts as well; but as I only had knee length stockings with me that's what I put on.

As we were eating Bob informed me in an analytical manor that he still had nearly 1500 rubber toys that he had planned to dispose of and he wanted to know what method I would enjoy the most. I really preferred playing with balloons after blowing them up; then torturing them a bit and seeing how much abuse they would take before they broke. With ten plus gross to pop and only about six more 'safe' hours remaining before his parents returned we would obviously have to emphasize the pop and forgo the play. I really did not see why he couldn't save most of them for another time when he could invite me over for some more rubber ripping fun. The reality of my situation at this point was that I didn't care if I saw another toy balloon for a month. The previous day I had inflated and popped more balloons than I had up till then during my entire life. My fingers were sore from tying all of them off.

Bob, however, was well aware that busting balloons was what turned me on. Getting me excited turned him on so he pressed me for a fun popping method that I would really enjoy. I mentioned that I had seen a kids TV program where they put a contestant with a pin in a large pen about three feet deep filled with balloons. The kid was given 60 seconds to bust as many balloons as possible in an effort to find the one that held a slip of paper signifying a major prize. I had always wondered what it would feel like flopping around on a massive mound of inflated balloons.

Bob beamed. "Hey, I've got just the thing. Lets fill the coal bin in the cellar to the ceiling and jump in on those suckers."

As we rushed down to the cellar I was wondering why their coal bin wasn't currently filled with coal since it was the end of September and winter was soon coming. Actually, except for several cardboard cartons and a stack of twelve inch wide boards that were used to close off the opening when it would have been full of coal, it was not only empty but quite clean. Turned out the year before his dad had converted their stoker furnace to oil.

The bin was about eight by eleven feet with walls to the ceiling. We put our friend Electrolux to work as we inflated probably a good five hundred of his twelve inch party balloons. We exhausted the overage batch we had started with the day before and had to finish filling the bin with some of his newer stock. We stuffed the balloons in until they were all the way to the underside of the floor joists in the rear half of the bin, tapering down to about a six foot height at the narrow bin opening which we had closed off with the boards.

Fortunately they had a four foot step ladder which was just the right height to climb up and crouch on the top of the upper board. Since I had suggested this fun activity Bob wanted me to go first so I climbed up. There was just enough clearance for my head under the ceiling. I leaned into the bin pressing my knees down on the balloons in front of me. Then I propelled myself forward in the same manner as I had during the summer when I flopped on the balloons in the tent when I was camping with the boys. On that occasion I had whacked my head into the tree that was directly behind the tent. Not wanting to repeat the experience I kept my head down so I wouldn't hit the floor joists as I just plowed into the balloons face forward toward the back of the bin.

My previous experience told me that the balloons were capable of supporting me so I wasn't surprised that only a couple popped as I dove in. What I wasn't expecting was how suddenly I fell to the floor even though I was more or less horizontal. The balloons offer nearly zero resistance to my fall. Although there was little excess space in the confined bin, the balloons quickly squirted out from under me as they flowed back over top. I loved the feel of the rubber as it scrubbed on my bare legs and arms along with the delightful squeal that tightly stretched rubber on skin produces. There were a couple of more pops as the balloons directly under my feet and knees got flattened on the bare concrete floor as I landed. I was fortunate I didn't break my wrists or fracture my knees.

I tried kicking and swimming to get myself on top of some of the balloons but this just resulted in more of them next to the floor busting. I knew my 180 plus pound buddy was going to jump in at any moment so I stood up and pushed my way to the back corner so he wouldn't land on me. Even standing there were still balloons over my head. I was totally immersed in my beloved rubber toys.

I felt Bob hit the balloons as they pressed against me and pushed me backwards, making room for his body. I couldn't see him, but the motion of the balloons indicated that he too had rapidly sunk through the sea of stretched rubber. I allowed myself to fall backwards into a sitting position in the corner which trapped a dozen or so balloons under my butt and between my back and the walls and one by one they busted with the satisfying pop pop sound I love so well.

This was the only way the balloons would pop except for just squeezing them and tearing them apart. POP POP POP POP. We threw ourselves against the walls, flopped on the floor, crushed them with our fingers; and when we got the pile down to waist level, flattened them between our groins. When we reached the three foot level we started flopping on them, using our arms to insure that several would be trapped under us. POP POP POP POP. Finally when we got down to only two layers of balloons covering the floor we started stomping them with our sneakers. The balloons really shrieked in protest as the rubber skin stretched over the soft rubber soles. We were down to maybe about a dozen that had escaped the mayhem when Bob suddenly called a halt. The bin floor was completely covered with multicolored rubber scraps. In total our little exercise had provided me nearly ten minutes of the most enjoyable and frantic balloon busting I have ever experienced,

I didn't think I could get aroused again from any more balloon play, but the near total skin / rubber contact did me in. Bob lost no time in determining my sexual status. After his command to stop he quickly reached up the loose leg of my scout short shorts and grabbed my stem. "Ready little buddy?" Bob beamed. "Do you need some more balloons to get you going?"

I shook my head and quickly dropped my scout shorts. As he squatted down in front of me he pulled down the waist of my gym under shorts. In a moment his mouth was over my dick and in less than sixty seconds I had been relieved once again.

Bob did spit my seed out this time. As I stood in front of him coming down from my orgasm his strong fingers began massaging the bare flesh of my legs from the top of my knee socks all the way up inside the legs of my gym shorts. He certainly wasn't making it easier for me to collapse my equipment and close up shop. While he was working me over I asked him if our balloon frolic had turned him on and he said no, it was fun but he needed more than rubber toys any more. He really enjoyed seeing me get all hot and excited, however.

"Do I turn you on, Bob?" I queried.

"Yeah man, little buddy. Do you ever. I love your body, especially when you tease me wearing those sexy short shorts I made you."

As he stood up he pulled my shorts to their proper position over my semi limp tool. The now visible lump in his shorts indicated that his was far from limp so I volunteered to relieve his problem. As I feared what he really wanted was a blow job, so we quickly removed the boards at the opening of the coal bin and headed for the sofa in the rec room. We had washed out the rubber I had used the day before and after he dropped his shorts I unfurled it over his stem. As he reclined on the couch I relieved his animalistic desires amid a crescendo of his groans.

By this time it was mid afternoon and we were two well spent bucks. I'm sure Bob had more left in him, but I was totally shot. We had some lunch following which we engaged in a frank discussion about our weekend activities. Although I enjoyed it, I made it clear that I had no intention of having a homosexual relationship with him. I admitted that I was sexually immature and that I was not sexually stimulated by his body per se. What did turn me on was the 'scoutfit' he was wearing and what he liked doing with balloons. I told him about the near disaster I had had with my father the previous weekend and he obviously now knew I was sexually stimulated by boy's short pants.

Bob apologized again for the incident in the car at the movie and again in the shower and we agreed to forget them forever. Then Bob made the decision that it would be best if we didn't have any future one on one contact because he couldn't guarantee that he could control his primeval desires. I was dismayed because I really liked having a shorts wearing balloon busting buddy that I could safely confide in. Wearing shorts while popping lots of balloons, Bob was my dream come true. My other buddies, Dave and Mike, wore the shorts I had given them somewhat reluctantly and had no problem popping off my balloons, but they were definitely not fetishists because the short pants and balloons were not a sexual stimulus for them in the way they were for me; only an aid. I couldn't force my fetishes on them any more than Bob could his homosexual desires on me.

The coal bin was littered with rubber confetti but would be the easiest to clean up since most all the debris were well contained. It was the only section of the cellar that didn't have ceiling tiles so we did have to inspect well up between the rafters to remove smaller pieces of latex that were trapped in the cobwebs. Cleaning up the rec room was a breeze as well because of the tile floor and tiled ceiling. After sweeping, the rubber remains were dumped into shopping bags. To insure that even the smallest fragments were recovered, Mr. Electrolux was used in the normal fashion on the floors, ceiling, and even the furniture.

When we finished with the rec room Bob gathered up the remains of his balloon supply. We had converted nearly two thirds of his stash into multicolored rubber confetti. I knew it would be impolite to ask my gracious host what he was going to do with the rest of his balloons since he didn't seem to enjoy them any more and we didn't appear to be heading for any more balloon popping sessions. However the sensuous fun with the large target balloons prompted me to ask him if I could buy a few of the large beauties from him. He replied that they were the only balloons he had that he really still enjoyed but he would be happy to give me six of them. As we got up to his room I just had to ask what he was going to do with the rest of the party and the few dozen of the twenty four inch paddle balloons that were still left in his collection. Bob indicated he hadn't decided what their fate would be. Before our fun weekend he had considered just destroying them but indicated if later he didn't want them he would let me know and I could have them.

Cleaning Bob's room was the hardest because there were so many places for the rubber scraps to hide. Fortunately the large paddle balloons we popped in his room were old and mostly ripped into large sheets so we didn't have to hunt for a large amount of rubber shards

With our clean up complete I naturally wanted to watch all that rubber go up in smoke but Bob nixed that idea. He noted that the clouds of black smoke would tip off the neighbors that rubber or oil was being burned. He naturally didn't want to get questioned by his father on this point. What he did suggest, however, was that since I was supposed to be out camping with him we ought to light a small wood fire in the back yard and smoke up my scout uniform that I had left home in.

I quickly changed into the clothes I had worn when I arrived and joined Bob in the back yard where he had started a small fire of twigs next to their incinerator. It was fairly smoky and it didn't take more than a minute or two to stink up my 'scoutfit' with wood smoke. When I had finished this task he also noted that my shorts and clean legs didn't look like they had spent the last 24 hours out in the wild either. Bob set about correcting this minor problem by suddenly tackling me and dragging me around on the grass. Even though the fall grass was somewhat dry it didn't take long for mud and grass stains to appear on my shorts and legs. I was pleased that the toughened skin on my knee caps was up to his challenge because after he was done dirtying me up there was no sign of blood on my legs. When he was done dirtying me up he insured that the small camp fire was out.

As we started back to the house Bob grinned and said, "Oops. One more thing we gotta do to make you look like you have been out in the bush. Put your foot up on this rock here."

As I placed my foot on the rock which raised my out thrust knee to nearly waist level he bent over and picked up a small stone that he grasped in his hand. By the time I realized what he was going to do he had gouged my knee with it busting open the skin on my kneecap. I found it disgusting that my flesh ripped as easily as the balloons we had been busting all weekend. My blood quickly oozed and ran down to the roll of the top of my knee sock. I wiped off some of the excess with my hand so that my stocking wouldn't get completely saturated.

My buddy inflicted wound wasn't overly painful but his obvious enjoyment in bloodying my knee annoyed me. I yelled at him, "Why did you have to go and do that?"

He smirked, "Boys that wear short pants are always supposed to have skinned knees. I like seeing your legs with a little blood on 'em."

I grinned at Bob as I put my other foot up on the rock as I said, "Hey, if it turns you on bust up this one too."

He was more than anxious as the sharp edge of the stone tore the skin of my other knee open.

To stop the oozing blood and give it a chance to coagulate I knelt on the grass and  scuffed my knees along allowing the grass strands to wipe out the wounds. After a minute or so my grimy knees had stopped bleeding and we headed back to the house.

It was time for me to head home so I gathered up my stuff and securely hid in my backpack Bob's target balloons he had given me along with most of the round ones I had brought with me that we hadn't used. We had finished off the dozen 560 airships I brought when we were playing in the pool. As we drove out his driveway I suddenly realized that we could have swung past our township dump with the bags of busted balloons and put them to the torch there. After our exciting weekend, however, I didn't think Bob would want to engage me in any further sexual fantasies.

When I got home I got the usual de-briefing session. Dad suggested I get cleaned up a bit before supper so I put the uniform I had been wearing in the dirty clothes bin. I weighed the implications of slipping into the short shorts Bob had made from the regular scout shorts because they really were comfortable and would be great to wear around the house in place of just gym shorts as I had been. I was afraid if Dad knew I was getting additions to my shorts fetish collection he might reconsider having me destroy them. But if I was going to be able wear them in his presence I would have to explain where I got them sooner or later. Sooner seemed the safest choice since he wouldn't think I was trying to hide them from him.

When I got downstairs I walked over to Dad and modeled my abbreviated pants for him. He had me approach him and as I did he reached out and grabbed the loose hem. I thought he might be going to rip them off me as he had done with some of the undersized gym shorts out in the barn, but he just fingered the soft cotton. I also felt the tips of his fingers toy with the hem of the gym shorts I was wearing for underpants. Then he firmly grabbed my thighs below the hem line and looked up at me and said, "Good I like them. At least your under shorts don't show. Yes indeed, if your going to show off your good looking legs then lets see as much of them as we can. I want you to wear these when you are around the house. When you just wear gym shorts you show off too much of your manhood."

Phew. I lucked out again.           Rev. Date: 4/03
<Continue to Later Years #17 >

Sponsored by: Ashley's Sex Toys and Adult Video Store