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Tuesday, 7 March 2017

The Balloon Game

Photo-story from Blushes 90
In the centre of a spacious, brightly-lit room two nude teenage girls are holding coloured balloons in front of them. Other balloons lie around on the floor. They are both very attractive girls, one with short curling dark-brown hair, the other with long and thick ash-blonde tresses loosely tied in two bunches. They are holding the balloons — pink, yellow, blue, green — in front of them to cover their boobs and pussies, because they are not alone in the room, there are also two older men whom they are standing facing.
Then one of the men calls something out, causing an immediate reaction from the girls. They hurriedly check the balloons they are holding. Then discard some and reach around for some of the others lying on the floor. They are discarding pink balloons and replacing them with other coloured ones. In this rather frenzied action of course what they have been covering is revealed. Their boobs and pussies. They are both seen to have very shapely bodies. The blonde girl especially has a ripe womanly shape with big, heavy tits which are nonetheless firm and thrusting.
After some seconds of bending and reaching, tit-swaying action, accompanied by anxious little yips and yelps, they stand as they were before, each holding three balloons before her but now with no pink ones. The blonde girl though has taken a little longer to get herself rearranged. The taller man who has called out the command grins at her. The other man says something and points to a leather-covered stool which is to the side but also out in the centre of the room. Looking distinctly unhappy the blonde girl, still holding her balloons, steps over to the stool. Then drops them and bends herself down over it, so that her ripe bare bottom is raised and thrust up.
The second man approaches. His hand pats and fondles her splendid bottom. And then he transfers into his fondling, right hand what he has been carrying in his left. It is a heavy leather tawse. The other girl watches with wide, excited eyes.
The tall, heavily-built man who is called Henry Randall says, ‘Have you found that girl yet? A nice holiday girl, with nice big boobs. A blonde I think I’d prefer.’
The girl with him gives a short laugh. ‘You’re very choosy. And it’s not at all easy.’
Her name is Monica Varley and she is 17 and lives here in the little south coast seaside town of Frinley. They are standing in the kitchen of Mr Randall’s big house looking out into the sunny garden and beyond where, through the pine trees, you can see the sea glinting in the afternoon sun. Monica, in a summery dress and sandals, is a pretty brunette with short dark-brown hair and a slim-waisted shapely figure. But Mr Randall would like a blonde — as well of course. For him and his friend Mr Mochram. Two girls, Monica plus another one, one of the holiday girls who have now begun arriving in Frinley with the start of the holiday season. It’s very easy for him to say just like that that he wants one. But as it happens Monica has seen a possible candidate.
‘Actually I did see someone yesterday, along the front. A blonde with super long hair, and quite a figure too. She was about my age, with this boy who was a bit younger, her brother I suppose. And actually... I did speak to her. At the ice-cream stand. I said hello and asked if she was here on holiday. She said they were staying for a week.’
‘Great!’ Mr Randall exclaims. ‘A really nice looker! With big boobs? When can you bring her round?’
Monica says she has no idea if she can. This girl might not be interested in fun and games. And of course there is the brother, he would need getting rid of. But Mr Randall doesn’t want to hear of problems, he wants the girl right away. Monica, wondering now if she should have mentioned the good-looking blonde girl, or at least not until she has made some firm contact, says she will try, she will do her best. Mr Randall says, ‘Make sure you do. Tomorrow!’ He is like this. Full of enthusiasm. For girls at least. And especially now with the thought of all these new girls arriving on holiday. Monica gives a sudden yelp. Mr Randall has caught her in a bear hug, with one hand going down to grope her bum. The hand yanks up her skirt, then pushes in between her squirming thighs. His fingers are at her warm pussy through the brief crotch of her knickers. Monica gives a shuddery yelp.
The girl in question is called Fiona Banton and she is 17, the same as Monica. She is staying with her parents at a guest house. The boy with her was not Fiona’s brother but the son of a family friend whom the Bantons have brought with them on holiday. His name is Eric and he is 15. He in fact is a bit of a pain as far as Fiona is concerned because he has developed a crush on her which she thinks is ridiculous at his age. Also the presence of Eric only serves to remind Fiona that she is here without her boyfriend Steve (who is her own age).
How marvellous if Steve were here rather than the annoying Eric! They could go off by themselves and find a quiet little corner, a deserted beach or in the countryside and do what a well-developed 17-year-old girl is keen to do. Some hot smooching! Go all the way in fact, because Fiona and Steve have just recently begun that. Just a few times so far. It is absolutely fantastic. But as it is there is to be no Steve. For a whole week! Only Eric. Eric who wants to follow her around, and of course touch her too if he gets half a chance. Get his fingers on her bottom, or her boobs. Wheedling her for a feel, the disgusting beast. Or doing it anyway, slyly, accidentally on purpose. She has threatened to tell her mother if he keeps on, though in fact Fiona is reluctant to do that. She should really be able to handle this awful 15-year-old herself — and she can of course. It’s just that... oh why couldn’t Steve be here!
Their first morning they all went to have a look around. Frinley seemed a reasonable place, Fiona thought, or would be if you were here with the right person. Her parents are OK of course, she is very fond of them, but at 17 you don’t necessarily want to be with them for a whole week. Her father, Paul, is keen on the possibility of hiring a boat to do some fishing. That sounds pretty boring to Fiona — and to her mother too. Susan Banton fancies just sitting on the beach in her new blue swimsuit and getting a nice tan. She still has a good figure and is not afraid to show it off. Fiona has a new swimsuit too and also quite likes the thought of sitting on the beach. So perhaps her Dad can find a boat for fishing and take awful Eric out in it?
Afterwards, after a fish-and-chip lunch in a cafe on the front, Mr Banton went to see if he could find anything out about boats. Susan had a look round the shops and Fiona, not wanting to do that, had another wander round with Eric. At the ice cream kiosk she spoke to a girl of about her own age who said she wasn’t here on holiday, she lived here.
Today is their third day, with the forecast saying it is going to be hot and sunny, so they are going to spend the morning at least on the beach. Yesterday they spent only a short time there, Susan Banton afraid that too much sun all at once might result in sunburn. Now they go out right after breakfast with deck chairs and towels to stake a place, though in fact it isn’t crowded. Fiona is looking stunning in her new white swimsuit and Eric can’t take his eyes off her. The white elastex material clings to her curves like a second skin. You can see her big nipples sticking out... and down below there is the ripe bulge of her cunt mound.
As she bends to spread her beach towel on the sand he gets a full view of her fantastic ass which is straining the thin white material it seems almost to breaking point. Eric spreads his own towel close in front of Fiona’s, then hurriedly lies face-down on it. His prick is suddenly stiffening, to bulge his skimpy red trunks in an obvious manner. Lying there he squints up along the curves of Fiona’s legs... to her tight white crotch. Yes. He can clearly see it! Under the tight-stretched material the central split of Fiona’s quim. Her cunt! Christ! He writhes his stiff prick into the towel. Imagining himself ripping that swimsuit off... and ramming his stiff thing up into her.
Propping herself on her elbow Fiona sees where Eric has carefully placed his towel, and what he is raptly looking at. The dirty little bugger! She gives him a fierce glare — and then deliberately opens her legs wide to give him a really good look, if that is all he can think about. Then with a little groan Fiona turns onto her front. Thinking about Steve. Why can’t he be here! The two of them on a deserted corner of the beach... and she would reach out her hand for his stiff cock.
Ten minutes later Fiona sat up and glanced around. More people now on the beach. And over there standing by that boat... was that girl she met on their first day! Yes, and she has seen Fiona. Raising her hand. Waving.
Fiona reaches for her beach jacket. Telling her mother she is going to talk to that girl. ‘She’s the one I told you about.’ To Eric, Fiona says firmly, ‘And you can stay here, young Eric. Work on that tan.’
Eric glumly watches Fiona walk away over the hot sand, her ripe bottom now pretty much hidden under the flowery jacket. His eyes turn to her mother. Mrs Banton is actually very attractive for an older woman — well late thirties at least — and she has got a pretty good figure too. Like Fiona’s it is very well revealed in that tight sky-blue swimsuit. Susan Banton is leaning back in her deck chair with her full thighs parted... and if he moves over a bit he will have the same sort of marvellous view that he had of Fiona. A direct view up at her brief tight blue crotch. The vertical split of her cunt.
His friend Brian of course says older women are better for fucking. They know more tricks. They can really give you a good time. Brian, who is also 15, claims to speak from experience. Eric doesn’t know whether he can believe him or not about that. But either way he really wants some experience for himself. If possible with that hot and sexy Fiona who he is pretty sure does it with her dear Steve. But if not... then Mrs Banton would certainly be OK. She probably does it all the time with Mr Banton. Probably at it all last night at the guest house — Eric in fact thought he could hear them, in their room next to his. The bed springs going. And that’s another thing Brian said: the more a woman does it the more she wants. So Fiona’s mother probably wants it all the time.
The girl whose name is Monica is really great! They go to the cafe for a Coke and have a really good chat. Fiona tells her about being stuck with awful Eric (Monica imagined he was her brother!) and all about Steve — or quite a lot anyway. Monica of course lives here and so knows all about Frinley. She says you can have a great time if you know what’s what and they can have a really good time together. Without Eric. Because Fiona can tell her mother she wants to go off with Monica and the two of them don’t want Eric stringing along. That sounds really fantastic to Fiona. She has even, for the moment at least, forgotten all about Steve.
What are they going to do? Monica says to meet her this afternoon. They can go round to see this bloke she knows. He’s got a big house on the edge of the town, and a Rolls Royce. Maybe he’ll take them out for a drive in the Rolls!
Fiona can hardly contain her excitement when she gets back — but she does. She and Monica have decided it’s best to tell her parents she’s just going round to Monica’s house, nothing more exotic than that. And of course her mother does understand about Eric.
‘You can go with Paul, Eric,’ she tells him. Because Fiona’s Dad has arranged a boat for the afternoon. ‘Or if you like you can stay with me on the beach — although we’ll have to watch we don’t get too much sun.’
Eric would prefer to be with Fiona of course. He’s dying to get his hands on her body in that really sexy swimsuit. But if he can’t he certainly isn’t interested in being out in a boat with Mr Banton. ‘OK. I uh... think I’ll go for the beach.’ Sexy Mrs Banton in her new swimsuit is certainly first choice after Fiona — especially if Mr Banton is off in this boat somewhere.
The girls don’t go for a drive in the Rolls although Fiona does see it, in the garage. It is really fantastic, electric blue and chrome, with soft leather seats. Mr Randall says maybe they can go for a drive tomorrow, but this afternoon they spend at his house and in the lovely garden. First of all sitting out on the patio in lounger chairs for a drink. ‘A rum-and-Coke please,’ Monica says, and adds that she’s sure Fiona would like the same. Fiona doesn’t normally drink alcohol, her parents say she shouldn’t, not at 17. She shakes her head but is persuaded with no great difficulty — because she wants to seem as grown-up as Monica.
Laughing she says, ‘As long as I don’t go back drunk!’ They all laugh.
What do they do for the rest of the afternoon? Well after those first drinks they do a tour of the house (which has an indoor swimming pool) and the large and beautifully landscaped gardens. And then back to the patio for another drink. And this time... Monica sits on Mr Randall’s lap. With some initial giggling. Fiona is a bit taken aback at this. For one thing Monica has told her she has a boyfriend, Gary, and they are serious, just as Fiona and Steve are. Mr Randall of course though not really old would be older than her parents. There seems to be no sign of a Mrs Randall.
Monica giggles again — as he puts his arm round her, pulling her close and says Monica is his best girl. And then he kisses her, full on the mouth. Fiona blushes and takes a mouthful of her drink — a second rum-and-Coke.
And then the giggling Monica is struggling up from Mr Randall’s lap. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘But Fiona is your girlfriend too. Now it’s her turn to sit on your lap.’
Fiona, red-faced, shakes her head. She has seen Mr Randall’s hand grope Monica’s bottom as she broke away from him She can’t sit on his lap like that — and probably have him kiss her full on the mouth too. But Monica is pulling her up, and Fiona doesn’t want to seem prudish. Schoolgirlish. And also there are those drinks.
So very shortly Fiona is sitting on Mr Randall’s lap. His big muscular arms round her. Pulling her close. She tries to twist her head away but his big hand turns it back. He is wanting to kiss her. Her head spinning as the kiss comes. Because at the same time she can feel Mr Randall has got a big erection. She is more or less sitting on it. It is up in between the cheeks of her bottom.
The kiss comes. His tongue forcing Fiona to open her mouth... and then pushing in. She feels like she is going to suffocate. Faint. Mr Randall’s hand is mounding one of her big boobs.
Probably after that Fiona should have said it was time for her to be going. Well she did in fact say that but the other two said no, of course not, and Fiona didn’t insist. It was partly because her head was in such a whirl when she finally got up off of Mr Randall’s lap. Struggling up... and in the process, yes, his hand groping her bottom just as it had Monica’s.
‘No of course you can’t go,’ Mr Randall said. ‘Why not have a dip in the pool now? It doesn’t matter that you haven’t got your suits. Monica’s been in in the altogether, haven’t you Mon?’
Monica, hot-eyed, said, ‘Yes. Why don’t we!’
But they don’t. The two of them don’t try to make Fiona do that. Instead a bit later Mr Randall says, ‘shall we play a game then?’
Monica says eagerly, ‘Yes! What? The balloon game?’ A tinkly little laugh. ‘But maybe it’s too soon for the balloon game. Maybe Fiona isn’t ready for that yet. So... what about the quiz game. With forfeits.’
Mr Randall says, ‘Yes, a nice quiz game.’
Fiona briefly wonders what the balloon game is but then their host is coming out with a set of cards. Or rather it is two sets; one has general knowledge questions, and the other has answers. Monica has played the game before but this is a new set of cards so she won’t have an advantage. For every correct answer you win 50 pence. For every five wrong answers you have to pay a forfeit.
What is the forfeit? Monica when they begin to play recklessly calls out answers, not caring if they are right or wrong. So she will quite quickly incur a forfeit. So that Fiona will see what it is. What it is is having to take your knickers down; then pull up your skirt and get over Mr Randall’s lap. To have your bare bottom spanked.
Fiona watches, scarcely able to believe her eyes. The two drinks plus having to sit on Mr Randall’s lap have set her head spinning. Now... this! Monica over Mr Randall’s lap with her knickers down round her knees. Her bottom bare! And Mr Randall’s big hand rhythmically whacking down onto those gleaming white spheres. Monica makes a gaspy grunting sound each time the hand splats down. Her bottom and legs squirming and writhing. Her bottom which very quickly is no longer gleaming white but has bright red blotches from that devastating hand.
The spanking goes on. Ten or more heavy whacks, and then it is at least over. Monica struggling to her feet. Her face is red now, like her bottom. She gives Fiona a rueful grin. Fiona at this stage has three wrong answers of her own. So two more.
She blurts, ‘Look... I don’t want to.’
Doesn’t want to continue to play is what she means. Now she has seen what a forfeit is. Monica and Mr Randall both laugh. Monica says, ‘Haven’t you ever had it before? You may quite fancy it!’
It is five o’clock and at the guest house Paul has just returned and is in the bedroom telling Susan about his fishing trip. Susan is not saying much, she is not really listening and has a distracted air. She and Eric returned from the beach about an hour ago. She is thinking of that.
Eric in his room next to theirs is lying on the bed masturbating. The door is locked so no one can suddenly burst in. So he can concentrate all his thoughts — but not as usual when engaged in this activity on Fiona. No it is her mother Susan.
When they got back from the beach Susan Banton said she needed to put some sun cream on her body as a matter of urgency, otherwise she was going to really burn. Eric offered to help. A little hesitation, then, ‘Yes. Alright.’
They went up to her room. She gave him the cream and stood still for him, in the tight sky-blue swimsuit. Eric’s shaky hand spread it on her hot smooth shoulders. And then her legs. Her thighs... He was trembling. And somehow his voice, all trembly too, said, ‘Shall I take the swimsuit off. So I can.’
Susan Banton took it off herself. To stand nude in front of him, presenting everything. Those fantastic, ripe-nippled tits. The dark blonde bush of her cunt. He felt a bit sick. His engorged prick was almost bursting out of his own brief trunks. So big and stiff that it felt painful under the tight material. So... he just took the swimming trunks down. His seemingly enormous erection jerked out, pinky-purple-headed. Desperate for some action.
The next day Fiona finds out what the balloon game is. In spite of the fact that she has told herself she won’t go round to Mr Randall’s ever again. Not after yesterday and that awful quiz game. When Mr Randall did make her do it, made her take her forfeit, in spite of her frenzied protests. Twice in fact. Twice she had to get over his lap. After first taking her knickers down and then bunching her skirt up round her waist. So that, like Monica, the whole of her bottom was bare and on display. Because if she hadn’t they said they would do it for her. Laughing but nonetheless saying they would do it. Hold her and take her knickers down.
So Fiona had no choice. Get over his lap with her bottom bare and then take that awful spanking. Mr Randall’s big hand walloping down on her nude flesh... Three lots of it! Because although Fiona knew quite a lot of the answers (and won £12.50) you couldn’t know them all. So three awful spankings.
So of course Fiona vowed to Monica afterwards she would never go to Mr Randall’s ever again. But Monica just laughed. Putting her arm round Fiona’s waist. ‘Don’t be silly. It was just a game. I bet you liked it really! Having his hand on your bum! And don’t forget you won all that money too.’
Naturally Fiona hasn’t said anything to her parents. And actually they weren’t too probing. Her father was full of his fishing trip and her mother seemed preoccupied. Fiona would have expected her mother to want to know all about Monica. Eric too wasn’t such a pain as usual. Maybe sitting in the hot sun had got to them.
So when Fiona said she thought she would see Monica again tomorrow afternoon there was no problem. But she certainly didn’t intend to go to Mr Randall’s again, if that was what Monica wanted. That was what Fiona told herself. And it was what she tried to tell Monica. But... Monica just wouldn’t listen. ‘Don’t be silly. Don’t tell me you don’t like Mr Randall. And today... maybe we’ll go for a ride in the Rolls!’
But they don’t go for a ride in the Rolls. For one thing there is another guest at Mr Randall’s, a friend of his called Mr Mochram. They all go out to the patio again. Rum-and-Cokes again for the girls although Fiona knows the rum is probably not a good idea. She is feeling very nervous because she really didn’t want to come.
Monica evidently already knows Mr Mochram who is about Mr Randall’s age. She is laughing and giggling. Then she says, ‘Fiona doesn’t want to play the quiz game again. No, she wants to play the balloon game today. She’s really very keen for the balloons.’
This of course isn’t true. Fiona has actually forgotten that balloons were even mentioned, yesterday’s subsequent events wiping them clean out of her mind. She shakes her head. Forcing a smile.
Mr Mochram says, ‘Great! Balloons are my favourite where pretty girls are concerned.’
Fiona nervously: ‘Wha...What...? I mean what... is the game?’
Mr Mochram tells her. ‘It’s a bit like musical chairs I suppose. Only the girls playing have balloons. To cover themselves. Three balloons each are allowed. To cover all the important parts. Because that’s all you have of course. I mean you’ve both taken all your clothes off. And then if Henry here calls out ‘Pink!’ say, well, you have to get rid of any pink ones pretty quick. Before Monica. And if you don’t...’
‘You get a good belting from Mr Mochram,’ Monica puts in. ‘With the strap.’ She gives an excited laugh. ‘It hurts of course! It really stings your bum! A whole lot worse than a spanking.’
Fiona can feel her face burning. Weakly she shakes her head. Picturing what Mr Mochram has said: her and Monica with no clothes on, holding these balloons. Are they possibly having her on; it’s just a joke? She tries to smile, hopefully.
But of course it isn’t a joke. It’s a real game that they want to play. If you can call it a game. Mr Randall says, ‘Another drink then? And then we’ll go in.’
Fiona stutters, ‘I can’t that. I mean... I... I don’t want to.’
‘Oh we’ve got to,’ Monica tells her. ‘Mr Randall makes every girl who comes here play the balloon game. It’s his favourite. And Mr Mochram, it’s his favourite too. But I expect you’ll get a present afterwards. If you’re a good sport.’
‘Oh yes, I certainly expect so,’ Mr Randall confirms. ‘For good sports,’ he leans across to squeeze Fiona’s thigh. ‘You’re a good sport, aren’t you Fiona dear?’
So no, it isn’t a joke. And there is no way Fiona can avoid playing this balloon game. Could she just say she was leaving? And go? What would happen? Would they grab her — and simply take her clothes off? But anyway Fiona hasn’t got the nerve to try that. She can only stay with Monica. And that means...
In the house she and Monica go upstairs to a bedroom to take their things off. All their clothes. In the wardrobe are a couple of dressing gowns. ‘We can put these on to go down in,’ Monica says. She has been here before of course, has played this game before. ‘Cheer up! It’s only a game. And you’re only going to get a whacking with the strap. I mean you’re not going to have to screw them. Not unless you want to that is.’
And that is all it is really. Holding the balloons in front of your nude body, and then at Mr Randall’s word feverishly grabbing for different ones. And then having to bend over that stool to get whacked on your bare bum by Mr Mochram’s diabolical strap. Fiona getting whacked quite a bit more than Monica because Monica has played before and is quicker at getting rid of a colour and grabbing a replacement. It is really awful: that dreadful strap and also just the fact of being nude in front of the two men. Displaying your nude boobs, and your bottom and pussy.
But... that is all. Fiona doesn’t have to screw anyone. She thinks Monica does though. Mr Randall. After the balloon game has finished (and it goes on for quite some time) the two of them go off into another room for a while.
The next day, Wednesday, Fiona sees Monica but refuses to go to Mr Randall’s. She is not having any more of that awful business. She and Monica go to the cafe and Monica tries to persuade her, but Fiona won’t. So Monica goes off by herself, which leaves Fiona at a bit of a loose end. Eric and her mother are on the beach again, but not the main beach. Apparently they found another little beach yesterday where there weren’t any other people and they’ve gone there. And her father has gone out in that boat again, though he hasn’t caught any fish yet. So when Monica goes off to Mr Randall’s Fiona is left to her own devices. She even rather misses Eric who hasn’t been bothering her these last couple of days. What she really misses of course is Steve. Why couldn’t Steve be here! A man tries to pick Fiona up when she wanders along the front, wanting her to go for a drink. She says no of course. Later on another man tries the same. It is all a bit depressing.
On Thursday when Fiona meets Monica she says that yesterday she and Mr Randall went out for a drive in the Rolls. It was great! ‘No games?’ Fiona asked and Monica shakes her head. ‘No. Well, not really.’ And Mr Randall has said he’ll take Fiona out today.
Fiona hesitates, and then says. ‘Well, OK. If you promise there aren’t going to be any of those awful games.’ Monica says no, there won’t be.
And this time Fiona does go out with Mr Randall in his Rolls. Just the two of them because Mr Mochram has come round and Monica stays with him. Mr Randall drives her out in the country and then they stop in this quiet little place next to some woods. Mr Randall has brought a picnic, with some wine. With a blanket to sit on.
No there are none of those games but there is something else. Because Mr Randall screws Fiona. After they’ve had the picnic, and the wine of course. She shouldn’t have drunk that wine. Because after that she more or less lets him. Protesting of course, saying she can’t possibly. But he just goes ahead with what he is doing and she isn’t really stopping him. Mr Randall taking her knickers off on the blanket and’ then his hand up there. Playing with her pussy. Getting her hot for it. And then... just doing it. It is the first time Fiona has done it with anyone other than Steve.
At about this same time Susan Banton and Eric are lying on a large beach towel on this quiet little beach they have found. It is just a tiny place and no one else is there. Susan is in a blouse and short skirt, not her swimsuit, but she has no knickers on under the skirt. She is lying with her legs open and Eric, leaning over her, is playing with her pussy.
He wants to screw her again of course and Susan knows she is going to let him. That is why she has the skirt on rather than her swimsuit. So that if someone did appear she would have some chance of covering up. She really doesn’t know what has got into her. How can she be doing this with Eric? It is unbelievable. But it is also unbelievably exciting. And she can’t resist it.
It’s a good job Paul is so keen on that fishing. And Fiona has found that nice friend.

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