Busted in Balloonville Ch. 06: Lungpower in the Lobby

Amateur

Jeff deposited the balloon he had just sprayed with sperm outside on the patio. He was tempted to call Janice so that he could watch her stomp the cum-covered balloon into oblivion, but he was just too embarrassed; after all, she had only blown it up a few minutes before, right after she busted the last balloon he had jizzed all over. Men cumming on balloons didn’t seem to faze Janice much, but why push his luck?

Jeff decided he needed a little rest, realizing with some amusement that this might be the first time in his life when he wanted a break from images of women blowing up and popping balloons. He laid back on the bed, but the feel of the mattress reminded him of Suzette, who had used her incredible lungs to blow it rock-hard even as it bore both his weight and hers. Turning on his side, he gazed at a big 24″ balloon sitting in lounge chair, and wondered what goddess had blown it so big and tight—a thought that made other parts of him start to grow big and tight. His cock ached with the effort, as if to say, “Not again!”, but it responded nonetheless. No, he wasn’t going to get any rest, that was for sure.

He tried to conjure up a memory of the photos BustyLaura1234 had sent to him, tantalizing teases of her balloon-sized boobs showing a valley of cleavage and just a hint of brown areolae. But instead he found himself thinking of Tracy and the feel of her big, soft breasts pressing against his hands as she filled her mighty lungs and blew into a giant vinyl inflatable. He thought of the way her cheeks puffed big and round as she mercilessly delivered the death blow to a poor pink balloon that she had inflated well beyond its rated size, blowing long and hard into the trembling latex until she blasted it into a million rubber shards that floated away on the wind.

He thought of Suzette, her legs spread, her sparkling eyes drilling into his, forcing air from her lungs into the mattress they were lying on and pretending not to notice the tip of his cock as it pushed into her pussy, the head of his cock separated from its warm, wet folds only by the thin fabric of her panties.

He thought of Janice digging her fingers into a balloon that wasn’t quite perfect, her nails dimpling the latex just before it yielded to to her crushing grip and exploded. He thought of the way she quickly and expertly inflated another to replace it, blowing it big and full in wh at seemed like a matter of seconds, then casually tucking the tightly-inflated pear-shaped latex balloon under one slender arm as her experienced fingers tied it.

He thought of Alicia, her doe-eyed innocent features contorted as her cheeks swelled with the effort of blowing the big purple balloon, and Nan, lithe and fit, the first older woman to ever give him a hard-on as she blew up the same balloon even bigger and faster.

His hand curled around the shaft of his member, and that was all he needed. He blasted yet another load of cum into the comforter atop his bed.

So much for a nap, he thought.

Jeff thought about taking a walk around town, but he was concerned about what he would see; after all, he only had so Muğla Escort many pairs of clean underwear. He decided instead that he would explore the hotel a bit—maybe check out the pool, where Janice had told him the bellgirls would be happy to blow up any pool toys he might want. He wondered if they had those big six-foot beach balls he had seen on the Internet, and he was pretty sure they did—along with a pretty maiden to transform it from a flat, featureless pile of latex into a sphere taller than he was using only lips and lungs, a woman who would undoubtedly huff and puff and puff and huff until every last wrinkle was blown smooth.

Down, boy, he thought.

Jeff pulled on clean clothes and headed down the stairs into the lobby. He hadn’t really looked around much when he checked in, distracted as he was by all the colorful balloons decorating the place—not to mention Janice at the front desk, who was blowing one of them up. The lobby had been mostly empty of people when he checked in, but now it was buzzing. There were clusters of comfortable chairs by the floor-to-ceiling bay windows, and most were full.

He wandered close to three women seated around a coffee table on which a briefcase was open and several balloons were laid out as if on display. One of the women, nattily dressed in a business suit, was holding up a bright red latex paddle that Jeff guessed would inflate to three feet or more.

“I imagine all the latex shards from overnflated balloons wreak havoc with your vacuum cleaners, Mrs. Inflar,” the woman was saying. Mrs. Inflar – Hadn’t Janice said she was the owner of the Balloonville Bed & Breakfast? The older woman sitting across from the woman in the suit chuckled.

“Oh, you have no idea,” she said, and the woman next to her, a petite young lady wearing a maid’s uniform, said, “I knew when I took the job I’d be cleaning rooms and blowing balloons, but I had no idea I’d be doing appliance repair!”

“I want to show you Fun Tyme’s latest innovation,” said the woman in the suit. “It’s called Bust-Rite. It’s a specially developed form of latex that bursts into fine shards that disintegrate easily and won’t clog your vacuum cleaner.”

“That sounds interesting,” said Mrs. Inflar, “but not all of our clients want their balloons to burst into shards.”

“That’s the beauty of Bust-Rite,” said the saleswoman. “In situations where a balloon would normally bust into small pieces, say its been overinflated, that’s when the technology goes to work. But if you pop it some other way—stomping, squeezing, sitting, pins, knives, cigarettes, whatever—then it pops like any other balloon would, into fewer and larger pieces.”

“Wait a second,” Mrs. Inflar said, leaning forward. “Are you telling me you’ve invented a balloon that actually knows how it’s being popped?”

The saleswoman smiled. “You could say that,” she said. “It has to do with how pressure is applied to the latex, and what the forces are that cause it to fail. So the latex fragments differently for an evenly-applied overpressure, like you would get if you blew the balloon to destruction, Muğla Escort Bayan versus a tearing failure as you would get if you pierced the balloon with a stiletto heel.”

“That’s amazing,” Mrs. Inflar said, sitting back. “And it really works?”

“It’s pretty incredible what our R&D department can do,” the woman said proudly. “Our lab researchers inflated and destroyed over 50,000 balloons in the development of Bust-Rite. It took a while to get it right, but the results are incredible.”

“It’s a little hard to believe,” said the woman in the maid’s uniform.

“I didn’t believe it either, to be honest with you, so I did my own comparison. I took a bunch of Bust-Rite balloons and a number of regular balloons, and I blew them up and popped them in pairs, one Bust-Rite and one regular, in every way you can think of. I stabbed them with pins, I sat on them, I stomped on them with different shoes. I even asked one of my co-workers who smokes to pop them with her cigarette. And of course I overinflated a bunch of them. I blew most of them by mouth. Some I overinflated right away , others I blew and deflated a few times so they would stretch and get extra big when I blew them to popping. I also blew a few to bursting with compressed air or helium. Every time I popped a balloon I would compare the shards, and I had a hard time telling the difference between the remains of a Bust-Rite balloon and a regular balloon. I blew dozens that day, and the only difference was how easily the overinflated Bust-Rite balloons went through our vacuum cleaners.”

“But does it affect the strength of the latex? You know, that’s why we use so many of your balloons here, Mary. We like knowing which ones are more durable and will take more rough treatment, and which ones are more delicate and will pop easily. That’s a big part of why our clientele likes it here, because we can always present them with the right balloon or inflatable for a given situation.”

“There’s no effect on performance of the latex, Mrs. Inflar,” Mary said. “Bust-Rite does make some of the thicker balloons a little harder to blow, but from what I hear, that’s not a problem for your employees.”

“That’s true,” said Mrs. Inflar with a smile. “They could ask us to decorate an entire room with blown-up hot water bottles, and my girls could handle it.”

“But let’s not try,” added the woman in the maid’s uniform, and all three of them laughed.

“Well, it’s an interesting idea, Mary,” said Mrs. Inflar. “I’d like to see it in action. How about we go up to my office for a demonstration?”

“Sure,” said Mary, pushing the balloons into her briefcase. The women stood up and headed towards Jeff on their way to the front desk. “I’ll start out by blowing a couple of 16″ balloons until they pop, one Bust-Rite and one regular, so you can compare the remains of the destroyed balloons for yourself. Then I’ll inflate some others for you so you can try different methods of popping. Jean,” she turned to the woman in the maid’s uniform, “Would you mind blowing one of the 60-inch balloons until it bursts? I want you to see Escort Muğla that the technology works even on very large balloons.”

“Sure, I can handle that,” Jean said, “and I’d like to try blowing up at least one of the 36″ balloons to bursting, since that’s such a popular size for us here…” Their voices trailed off behind them.

Jeff found himself with a sudden need to hide his burgeoning hard-on, so he sat down in the chair Mary had vacated, which was still warm from her body. He wondered what she would look like, her chest swelling under her formal clothes as she filled balloon after balloon so they could be mercilessly popped seconds later, or what it would be like to see Jean’s small, lithe body pumping air into a giant latex orb until it stood as tall as she did, and then blowing it even further until it could take no more. How long would it take her to blow such a giant balloon until it exploded in her face? Would she flinch? Probaly not- Jeff thought of the last thing he heard her say. She knew she had a giant five-foot balloon to blow to popping, and she was talking about overinflating a three-footer right afterwards! He wondered if the big red balloon he had seen Mary holding up was the one that Jean was going to blow to destruction. His hard-on was threatening to burst through his belt again. Gosh, I thought these pants had a looser fit…

Sitting on the couch, he could now hear the women in the group of chairs behind him.

“He’s all, like, ‘Blow it, Vicki, blow it bigger, blow it bigger!’ And I’m like, ‘I can’t, it’s too hard!’ which of course it isn’t, and he knows that, I mean for God’s sake, I’ve been playing the bagpipes since I was 15, and if I can’t blow up a measly 36″ balloon to popping, I should probably quit blowing balloons altogether. But it really gets him off, so I do it. ‘Please, Steve, don’t make me blow it any more, I can’t, I can’t…’ My goodness, the things we do for love.”

“Well, at least your man likes balloons,” said another voice. “My guy is all about the inflatables. Big ones. You know what he does? He lets the air out of our king size mattress, and says, ‘Oh, honey, it’s a little soft, just top it up a little.’ Like I don’t know what he’s up to!”

“Doesn’t he know you blow up air mattresses and other inflatables for a living here at the B&B?” said another voice.

“Honey, if he knew what I got up to in this place, he’d either divorce me or follow me to work every day,” and all three of the women laughed.

Jeff couldn’t take any more. He picked up a magazine from the table (“The Inflationist,” which featured a Brazzolla ad on the back in which a busty blonde in a blue evening dress was blowing a big white sousaphone), held it over his crotch, and walked over to the front desk, where he found Janice—who, of course, was in the process of blowing up a big green balloon.

“Hi there,” she said, then took a deep breath, puffed out her cheeks, and blew a big neck into the balloon. It was all Jeff could do not to cum in his pants.

“Janice, I was wondering… you said this place had popping and non-popping rooms. What happens to the balloons in the non-popping rooms?”

“You know, not many people ask,” Janice said, tying the big green balloon and adding it to a pile at her feet. She looked at her watch. “I’ll tell you what, it’s just about time for my break. Come with me and I’ll show you.”

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