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It was a Saturday night and after dawdling around my dad and step mom finally got themselves dressed and out of the house. They were headed for the club in town where I was surely hoping they would be until after one AM. As I heard our car drive away I headed for my room to fetch some rubber toys for my night's play from the inventory I kept in the rear of my upper bureau drawer.

I had worn a pair of the cut down scout shorts that Bob had made me all day long along with my high top hiking boots and knee socks and I was anxious to try the short shorts out with my balloon play in the cellar. Normally I just wore a nice loose fitting pair of the salvaged cotton gym shorts for my balloon sessions. I figured the cut off scout shorts would provide just about as much leg exposure, although I obviously would not have near the same balloon contact on my tool as if I was wearing just the thin gym shorts alone. The upside was that if I took a notion to go on a moonlight romp in the woods I would at least not be running around outside in the dark wearing the equivalent of boxer underpants.

I had pulled a couple of bags of balloons out of my inventory; twelve and fourteen inch rounds along with a bag filled with previously inflated balloons. These I had inflated one or more times and they had gotten aged by hanging them in the sunlight for and hour or two when I was down in the woods enjoying being a little kid again in my nice comfortable shorts. This sun treatment really added to the softness of the rubber as well as the aroma.

I was about to make my balloon play selection for the evening when I heard a knock on the kitchen door, the usual point of entry for visitors that knew us. I had never considered the possibility of Dave or Mike showing up at the house late on a Friday or Saturday night and catching me in the middle of some serious balloon fun. Had I, carrying the thought of potential exposure in the back of my mind, surely would have sullied my enjoyment as I played with my toys in the basement where I could be easily viewed through either of the two low windows in the cellar wall located up next to the ceiling.

My initial reaction to the knock was that there was an emergency and someone needed to use the phone. The fact that I had most of the lights on downstairs suggested that someone was likely at home. Also a stranger wouldn't have known, but we were one of probably eight dwellings out of the twenty or so located within a quarter mile of downtown (the crossroads where the general store and hotel were located) that had a telephone. I put the bags of balloons aside on one of my beds and ran down to see who was at our door at nearly ten at night.

When I unlocked and opened the door I saw it was my older buddy Dave. I thought it unusual that his younger brother Mike wasn't with him and I immediately jumped to the conclusion that he might have had a falling out with his parents and they had thrown him out of his house or something. Adding to my thought was the fact that he was wearing one of the Boy Scout uniforms I had given him; shorts, knee socks, neckerchief, and all. During the day and as I left him before coming home for supper he had been wearing mid calf length boot socks and the longer more modest heavy blue denim shorts his mother had made for all of us. The only time he or Mike usually wore the scout outfits, especially the neckerchiefs, was when we went on day long hikes or over night camp outs. Then again, since this is a fantasy, I didn't question further his appearance or presence at my door.

Dave was standing on the kitchen stoop uneasily, as though wondering why he was at my house to begin with. I invited him into our large farmhouse style kitchen and poured us each an ice filled glass of Coke from the fridge. Because he seemed so to be ill at ease I just engaged him in some idle talk relevant to some of our activities of the day. After about ten minutes of this he appeared much more relaxed as he finished the last of his glass; but I sensed Dave was looking for a way to end our conversation and take his leave. One thing I was sure of was that he hadn't hiked the half mile or so over to my house in the dark to re-hash our lazy uninspiring days happenings, especially wearing his scout outfit that I suspected he realized I really enjoyed seeing him wear.

Seeing Dave or Mike in the scout uniforms I had given them always stimulated me and I'm sure they sensed this. Sitting there talking with him I couldn't help but visualize just how much fun the two of us could really be having with each other down in the cellar or up in my room playing with my rubber toys; and at this thought my dick began to respond accordingly. I had noticed that both the boys had appeared embarrassed, ashamed, and turned off by our balloon play and the following mutual jack off in the tent on the mountain. As a result I had not dared to bring up the subject of further mutual sexual fun since that time; however I felt there had to be some significance to his untimely visit. In addition there was the fact that he had bothered to change his clothing apparently for my benefit; so I took a chance and offered, "You know buddy; I really like seeing you wearing that scout uniform with those boots and knee socks. Those shorts really let you show off your nice strong sun tanned legs."

Dave gave me an embarrassed then somewhat disgusted look as he replied, "Yah I know you do. What are you? Some kind of a homo?"

Actually, probably, I thought. When Dave and Mike were so attired I had to use restraint to keep my hands off their pretty tan skinned muscle filled legs.

"I just appreciate seeing a guy with good looking legs wearing sexy shorts, that's all," I shot back.

I slowly stood up in a non threatening way and positioned myself to the side of the table so he could get a clear front view look at my body. Then I rotated to give him a side view as well which would now reveal the tent that had developed in the upper fly area of my shorts. Dave looked at me for several seconds before he quietly commented, "Well I guess you must be. I guess I really do turn you on, don't I?"

"Well Dave, if you want to know the real truth your sexy legs with dirt smeared knees and those nice sexy short pants you're wearing do get me excited," I replied quietly.

I suddenly wondered if I hadn't done the most stupid thing of my sixteen year life. After a few seconds of awkward silence I suddenly blurted out, "Didn't anything we did up on the mountain last month get you more excited then you had ever been before? You made a point of putting on your scout uniform tonight because you know it makes you look sexy to me. Does wearing shorts make you feel sexier too? Do you enjoy seeing me wearing these shorts as well?"

I paused to let my words sink in. Finally I added, "Then you hiked over here to display yourself in front of me. Why? Do you want to have some fun with me? Just the two of us?"

I couldn't believe how blunt my last comments sounded and the fact that I had totally blown my homosexual feelings toward Dave.

Dave's face turned crimson faster than a Chameleon changes colors when tossed into sunlight. He had involuntarily answered my question and knew it, and as he sat on the chair he began fidgeting with the hems of his shorts. Finally he looked up and said sheepishly, "Yes, I kinda like seeing you shorts too. I Knew you were home alone and I thought maybe you would want someone to play with and help you bust some of your balloons."

Wow! I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My wildest fantasy appeared about to come true. But at the same time, since he admitted he was so interested and well informed about my weekend late night balloon play, I wondered how many times in the past he might have been spying on my balloon busting activities in the cellar.

"So playing with balloons and rubbing them on your bare legs and arms gets you sexually stimulated too, does it?" I offered.

"Ummm, well sort of," Dave cautiously replied. "I think maybe its more seeing what the balloons do to you. I know when I play with them in front of you, then rub them real hard so they squeal nice and loud and then finally bust them, you really seem to get excited. When you get excited that ah...well gets me excited too."

"Do you like to see me wearing my scout uniform while we are having fun with balloons?" I suggested. "I know I like grabbing a hold of your nice solid bare legs gives me a thrill. I've noticed when we have been wrestling in the grass you seem to like feeling up my legs as well. Does wearing and running around playing in shorts that expose our legs get you excited at all?"

Dave looked trapped as he reluctantly replied, "Yah pretty much so. I like feeling your legs too I especially like it after we have been wrestling in the grass and mud and your knees and legs are all dirty. I really like to see your knees when they get scraped up and have some blood stains on them. Seeing your skin rip is sorta like seeing a balloon bust. It kinda gets me excited."

"You like my shorts too?" I queried.

"Yah, those baggy scout shorts you like to wear make it easy to reach up your leg and feel around; especially those new shorter ones you are wearing now. I also love the fact that you wear gym pants for under shorts. That makes it great too," Dave murmured as he stared intently at the floor in front of him.

I thought about what he had said for a moment then I replied, "I guess you know I like having you feel up my legs as well."

Dave was staring at my legs and didn't seem to have anything additional to offer for the moment so I added, "Well why don't we get started then? Come on up to my room and we'll get some balloons to have fun with. Then you can help me bust some of them. What do you say?"

Dave gave me a nervous smile as I turned and we tromped up the steps. I had momentarily forgotten that my 'using' inventory was still on top of my bed, but I figured Dave had to have realized by this time that I must have a rather large supply of balloons available somewhere. Even so when he walked into my room and saw the large bags and the balloons I had planned to use for the night spread out on my bed he was impressed by the number I had. He pressed me into explaining how I had obtained them. This made it necessary to reveal that my dad was well aware of my passion for rubber toys. He couldn't believe that my father hadn't destroyed them when he found out playing with balloons sexed me up. Dave allowed that if it had been his father, who was strict and could get very nasty at times, he would have put them to the torch the moment that he had discovered them. I was thankful my dad was understanding, very understanding.

I indicated which balloon sizes were in the bags and told him to help himself. He questioned me about all the used balloons wondering why I hadn't just busted them when I had finished playing with them instead of taking the time to untie each of them and let the air out. I explained how nice and soft and yummy smelling the balloons would get after they had been blown up several times and left in the sunlight for awhile. I was well aware that Dave had his own favorite ways of letting the air out of balloons which tended to suddenly turn them from sexually stimulating toys into torn sheets of rubber in an instant.

Dave grabbed a limp used fourteen inch balloon and started blowing away. I selected and started to inflate a fresh twelve incher. If I was going to have help in popping my inventory I wanted us to concentrate on the far more numerous even if somewhat less sexy smaller balloons.

I soon realized Dave had no intention of playing with the balloon he was inflating. It could become a nice soft fourteen incher when inflated to rated size; perfect for body and leg rubbing. However that was obviously not his plan for it. He quickly had it beyond that point and was obviously going to take it all the way to bust. This would generate a shower of shredded rubber slivers that would get all over the bed, the floor, the furnishings creating a major clean up mess. I couldn't afford to have my step mother, who was a fastidious housekeeper, find any traces of burst balloons in my room.

I managed to stop him before it popped and told him we had to do that sort of balloon busting down in the cellar where the clean up was easier. Our cellar was not subject to the cleanliness scrutiny carried out by my step mom who I was sure could spot a rubber fragment smaller than a fraction of a square millimeter. She only went down there to do the wash. Dave released some of the air just to get his toy a bit smaller as we left my room and headed down the stairs to the cellar with the three bags of balloons in hand.

When we reached the cellar area and I turned on the lights I turned and faced Dave as he enthusiastically said, "OK now if I see just how big this baby will get?

I really hated to see the pretty blue soft rubber bag destroyed because it had had produced the extra sensuous feeling that helped me go over the top on at least two previous occasions. The faint smears from cum that had landed on it when I exploded bore mute evidence of my previous pleasure. Dave didn't seem to take notice as he quickly replaced the air he had released. Then he intently set about blowing more into it until the helpless rubber would finally be forced yield to his strong youthful lungs.

"Why don't you let a little more air out of it and tie it off. That's a nice soft broken in rubbing balloon you have there," I ventured as I attempted to save my valiant toy.

"Nah! Let's see how big this baby will get. You have more than enough balloons for us to play with. Besides, what else are balloons good for beside busting 'em?"

It was obvious my buddy still wasn't aware of the sexual stimulation that nice soft sweet smelling balloons can create when rubbed on bare skin; especially in the crotch area. There had been little balloon rubbing on Dave during our previous sexual get together in the tent up on the mountain and I think just having me whack him off instead of his brother created the main stimulation for him to squirt his load during that session.

Dave was standing about five feet in front of me. His strong legs were spaced about a foot and a half apart and the ample legs of his scout shorts hung freely about half way down his thighs. I had made a point of supplying both he and Mike with oversized uniforms so they wouldn't grow out of them before they were worn out. The more than generous leg openings framed his tightly muscled thighs.

I watched mesmerized as the balloon hiding Dave's face grew to about 17 inches. BOOM! Suddenly the pretty translucent blue bauble was gone in a shower of rubber confetti and I was left staring at Dave's broad grin. "Did you enjoy that?" he quipped.

Boy did I ever. My dick was fighting for upward mobility. I got off the stool I was sitting on and made the necessary adjustments.

"Dave you know I did," I replied. "I love watching you blow up balloons until they bust, especially when you are wearing shorts. They make you look like a little kid that is really having balloon busting fun."

"That was a lot of fun," Dave agreed. "It really got big and didn't put up much of a fight at all. It busted nice and easy. Now let's see you blow up the balloon you got until it pops."

I was more than up to his challenge. The balloon I had brought down stairs was only a twelve incher and hadn't been previously inflated. I stood up in front of Dave and forced in about five more lung fulls before the balloon exploded with a resounding BANG. In the confines of the cellar it was considerably louder than the larger used balloon Dave had just finished off. I looked intently at Dave's crotch area to see if he was experiencing anywhere near the stimulation I was; but I couldn't discern any unusual bulge in the front of his scout shorts. Dave was well endowed and at 16 years his fully inflated tool was a good eight inches and if at all 'excited' would have been impossible for him to conceal.

For his next pop I suggested Dave use a fresh twelve inch balloon while I selected an unused fourteen incher. I lazily began to inflate it as I watched Dave huff and puff into his toy with a vengeance. No question; Dave really loved to blow up balloons until they popped and I really loved watching Dave in action. In short order Dave's balloon pear shaped, hesitated as all the available rubber reached its elastic limit and the pressure built, then exploded as mine had with a loud BANG. The wet presence of my boy juice smearing on the front of my gym under shorts let me know that I would be popping soon myself.

"Hay, now that one was worth the effort. It got really good and tight before it busted," Dave was grinning from ear to ear well pleased with his latest effort. "Your turn, buddy."

As I stood in front of him forcing breath after breath into my ever expanding rubber orb I could see through the tightly stretched rubber that Dave's gaze was fixed on my crotch. Suddenly I saw involuntary movement under his scout shorts just below his belt. Hot dawg! Davy boy had finally got himself a bit of stimulation.

BOOM! My observation was suddenly shattered as the balloon exploding in my face. I had been so fixed on Dave's stim that I hadn't taken note that the rubber had reached the ripping point. And rip it did as additional rubber confetti was added to the existing latex debris on the floor. Clean up tonight was definitely going to require the services of our vacuum cleaner.

At this point we hadn't been in the cellar much over five minutes and I was more than ready to hustle back up to my bed room for some hands on excitement. Dave, however, was apparently getting all the stimulation he wanted for the moment from just busting my balloons. He quickly grabbed another one and began blowing away. I followed suit and as his balloon reached a nice size I suggested, "What other ways do you like to bust balloons, Dave?"

Dave stopped blowing and gave me a sort of funny look as if to say 'is there any other way'. Then he quickly knotted his balloon and strode the few steps toward me. I was sitting on the workbench stool with my left foot on one of the leg rungs causing my knee to jut out in front of me. My back was nearly against the workbench, which was lucky because before I knew what he was about, Dave who had his balloon cupped in his right hand crushed it onto my left knee. As he pressed it inward he gave it several twists and the rubber responded with loud squeals of agony as the trapped balloon tried to survive both the pressure and the friction.

Dave began to laugh as he lightly fingered the fly area of my shorts with his other hand and said, "How does this feel, buddy? I love to hear balloons getting rubbed real good and hard knowing that they soon are going to bust. I'll bet you do too."

After a moment or two he added, "Woowee! I can feel you are all nice 'n big down here."

With this comment Dave gave my rock hard stem a firm squeeze. Then he pressed inward on the poor balloon a bit harder sinking my knee cap halfway into the yielding rubber. One last mighty squeal and POOM the balloon was suddenly a couple of sheets of thin rubber spinning downward toward the floor.

Dave was grinning. "Sting at all, buddy?"

It hadn't, but I knew Dave was hoping I might have experienced some discomfort. He and Mikey always liked to see my bare legs and knees getting all scraped and busted up especially if it resulted in generating some oozing blood.

"Your turn," I challenged as I hopped off the stool and bade him be seated.

I blew up the balloon I had until it was well pear shaped as he expectantly settled himself on the stool. Then I released about 30% of the air to make it nice and squishy soft. Dave had both his knees raised and I initially pressed the balloon between them as I twisted it. This really made the rubber scream because the balloon was sort of wedged between his knees. After about a minute of this he allowed the balloon to force his legs apart and I squashed it all the way into his crotch. The pressure on the sides from Dave's legs made it impossible to twist the balloon any longer as it would have just popped, so I just rolled it up and down from his waist to the seat of the stool. Dave was leaning back with his elbows on the workbench and appeared to be getting "hot".

I think I was really making progress with him when the rubber gave out and the balloon burst with a sudden POOF. No question we had committed a logistical blunder in not having additional inflated balloons at the ready. One of my greatest desires was to see Dave shoot his load into a pair of scout shorts. I have often wondered how many boys are introduced to self stimulation in the scouts while wearing their cute shorts and how many of the olive drab knee pants get christened with their boy juice.

"Shit!" I announced. "Just when it looked like you were beginning to have some fun. How are you doing anyway?"

With that I slipped my right hand up the amply sized leg of his shorts, my fingers gliding over his 'ballroom' and coming to rest on the top and right side of his shaft. It was inflated but not hard.

Dave was taken aback by my unexpected exploration and tried to recoil but was constrained by the workbench at his back. He grabbed the top of my hand through the fly of his shorts as though he could remove the invasion of his private area in this manner. Dave's hand notwithstanding, I worked the tips of my fingers to the top of his staff that I started to finger. I was consoled by the fact that the head was nice and gooey acknowledging that our brief balloon busting time together had indeed gotten him 'excited'.

Suddenly the pleasure I was giving him hit home and Dave made no further effort to halt my enjoyable massage. I wished I had a nice soft inflated balloon I could rub him with. My balloon supply was in my right pocket and was hopelessly out of reach of my left hand. I then thought I could grab one that Dave had in his pocket and asked him which one they were in. Dave was beginning to really float as he shook his head and gasped, "Forget the damn balloons. Rub harder."

I shifted my position more to the side and began to squeeze the muscles on the back of his right leg above his knee. I loved the feel of the sweat sticky skin of Dave's thigh. I didn't have much time to think about this however, because within a minute Dave suddenly groaned and threw his head back. His stem give a mighty pulse followed by several lessening after pulses. In short order not just my fingers but my whole hand was coated with Dave's warm sticky fluid. I slid my hand out of the leg of his shorts and with a couple of snaps of my wrist shook the bulk of the gooey material free, splattering it on the concrete floor. The fly area of his shorts, now free to rest on his area of ecstasy, quickly absorbed Dave's fluid and turned dark.

It took Dave a good two minutes to float down. He just looked at me with a Happy Face sort of smile and said, "Wow! That was great."

"Glad you enjoyed that," I responded.

At this point Dave became aware of a decided wetness in his attire. He looked down and commented, "Oh jeeze, what a mess. My mom will have a fit if she sees these shorts."

I told him not to worry. We could wash them out in the kitchen sink and dry them in no time in the electric oven that had a bun warming setting. We went up to the kitchen and as he shucked his shorts I ran upstairs and fetched a pair of the salvaged school gym shorts for him to slip on.

I was somewhat dismayed. Our fun together had been far more stimulating than my usual solo activities; but in the span of ten minutes or so I suspected Dave had pretty much had his fun for the evening. We hadn't had anywhere near the popping good time I had envisioned when we initially rushed up to my room to gather our rubber supplies. I didn't doubt that Dave would be happy to reciprocate, but I was hoping for more balloon busting fun foreplay before I allowed my juice to fly.

After washing out Dave's shorts and twisting them to wring out most of the water, I stuck them in the oven under the stove and set the temperature for warm. At this point Dave rather insisted that I remove my abbreviated scout shorts and just wear my gym shorts, which I did before I hustled him back down to the cellar.

Once there, we each grabbed a fresh balloon. Dave looked at me quizzically as he asked, "What do you want to do with these? How do you want to bust them?"

No question, to Dave balloons were just brightly colored rubber bags that were simply supposed to be inflated and burst. It was obvious at this point, since we really hadn't had any lengthy balloon contact play in the past, that he just was not aware of the sensual feeling stretched rubber on bare skin can produce. I figured now would be a good time to introduce him to balloon wrestling like my father and I had done when I was a little shaver.

"Lets just blow them up as big as they'll get; then let some of the air out so they are nice and soft and rubbery," I offered laughingly. "Then we can squeeze and rub them on each other 'till they pop...or we pop."

"OK, if that's what you want," Dave replied. "But we had better blow up a number of these babies before we start 'cause they are gonna bust! We don't want to run out like the last time."

We started with the balloons we each had in hand. Then I indicated the 14 inchers would be the most suitable for our intended use. With his first balloon I realized Dave was taking quite seriously my suggestion that we initially blow them as big as they would go. Since you never know how big a balloon can really get until it busts, I could see that he was using this as his inflation criteria.

Suddenly BOOM! Rats, I wasn't able to stop him before the remains of a nice orange balloon sprayed about the cellar. Dave grinned sheepishly, "Oops, a little too big."

"Yah, that's all right. Like you said that's what balloons are made for," I replied as I judiciously finished filling my rubber orb to what I felt was it's limit.

I held my balloon up and lazily waved it around for a few seconds before allowing some of the air to escape; reducing the size from about 16 inches to around 12. I gave the sphere a squeeze with the fingers of my left hand and found the texture and feel to be nice, very nice. Then I tied the neck off.

"Now this is how you want to get them, Dave," I ventured. "Here feel how nice and soft this balloon is."

I flicked the balloon toward Dave who was holding the balloon he was inflating in his right hand. As the balloon drifted within reach he snagged it with his left hand, digging his fingertips into the soft rubber skin. I could see he was thinking, if only briefly, of ending it's life right then and there; however he thought better of this and lightened his grip as he twisted it toward himself and bounced the balloon up against his left knee. When he had fully inflated then released air from the balloon he was working on, Dave dropped the one I had given him to the floor so he would have both hands free to tie off his balloon.

The two of us spent the next several minutes inflating nearly a dozen additional soft rubber beauties. I knew Dave was fully knotting the necks on his balloons, pulling them good and tight, so that popping the balloons was the only easy means available to deflate them. I only had about three gross of the 14 inch balloons left in my inventory. As a result I felt that I always had to ration their usage because the supply would have to last until I was on my own and in a position to buy more; so I called a halt and told Dave I thought we had enough for the night.

As Dave awaited my next orders he was tapping the balloons that were lying about on the floor with his boot. I could sense he really would have liked to simulate a field goal kick using a few of them. I could visualize the heavy dirty brown leather toe of his boot sinking into the soft sides of the balloons until they burst as they helplessly tried to fly free. Even if they did survive the kick, ricocheting off the rough stone cellar walls and the overhead joists would have surely done them in.

I quickly explained the basics of balloon wrestling as I picked up a red balloon and with it gripped firmly between my two hands jammed it into Dave's chest. Dave instinctively grabbed the balloon with both of his hands at which point I tried to pull the straining rubber away from him.

Screech..squeal..brrrupppt. The balloon let it's displeasure with our torture be known as we grappled for control of the soft squishy bag. It didn't take more than a minute until the rubber tore and the balloon died with a tired POOF. I quickly scooped another balloon off the floor so we could quickly recover the momentum of our play.

Dave was really getting into our fun play. He was pulling and twisting causing his hips to really swing and sway. The somewhat oversize gym shorts I had supplied provided zero hindrance to the motion of his thighs that moved freely about in the generous leg openings. When there was hem contact, his unrestrained semi inflated dong kept peeking out below the hem as the thin light cotton draped effortlessly over the flesh of his legs.

I wasn't sure if it was Dave's shorts or the sensuous balloons we were popping at regular intervals, but I was getting really, really, excited. The tip of my stem was kissing the inside of the waist band of my gym shorts and my balls had the heavy ache that comes from excitement and a load well past ready to go. We had finished off about eight of the balloons by this time and I was surprised that Dave's stem wasn't more rigid.

Dave apparently was also paying attention to my condition because suddenly instead of trying to get the balloon away from me he pushed it inward and down toward my crotch. I instinctively aided him in this maneuver. In a moment the balloon was being pressed and scrubbed over my rock hard tool and the front of my thighs. My wet gym shorts really made the rubber squeal. Dave pushed me backwards toward the workbench and waiting high stool. When I felt the stool seat I scooted my cheeks up on it. Dave kept pressing the balloon toward me as I spread my legs apart inviting the sensuous pressure the balloon was applying to my joy organ as his hands just kept sinking deeper into the thin rubber.

Finally POOM! The balloon popped with Dave's hands just inches from my crotch. In a quick motion he yanked the waist band of the gym shorts outward and jammed it down between my spread legs hooking it below my sack. My fully inflated stem jutted out rendering Dave a snappy salute. Then in the next moment Dave grabbed a hold with his hands on the outside of my thighs, dropped to his knees, and clamped his mouth firmly over my quivering stem as he jammed his head into my crotch.

Oh oh oh oh oh! I pushed down on the floor with my feet and leaned back as my entire body stiffened, but for a moment. Whooeeee! The release was better than anything I had experienced, even with Bob. Dave maintained lip pressure as my thrusts and the surge of fluid subsided. Then as he slowly disengaged and pulled away I saw his cheeks were puffed out to provide a receptacle for my sex fluid. Dave turned and spit the contents of my enjoyment on the concrete floor. A couple of drips of my boy juice hung from the corners of his mouth. With a swipe of the back of his hand the strands of glistening fluid were transferred to his knuckles. Ugh! How gross and disgusting. But wowee how wonderful the feeling.

After shaking off the back of his hand, Dave sheepishly turned to me and said, "Did you enjoy that, buddy?"

Yes I sure enough did as I smiled and nodded. I felt completely relaxed as I wiped the remnants of goo off my stem and pulled my shorts up to a more modest position. We had both, I assumed, had a super orgasm and I knew I wasn't in any condition for another go around at least for awhile. While I was still floating down I suddenly confronted the likelihood of Dave requesting reciprocal treatment. I had no trouble with hands on, but I wasn't about to stick anybody's dirty dick in my mouth let alone risking the chance of swallowing their boy juice. Then it dawned on me I could just have him slip a rubber (that's what they were called in those days) on his shaft which would solve the sanitation problem.

I knew I was done with our balloon play in the cellar for this night. Without consulting Dave I gathered up the bags of our balloon inventory and headed for the stairs. Because of the over inflation bursts I knew I had a major mess to clean up after Dave took his leave. I had planned to just let the four remaining inflated balloons in the cellar and finish them off if I couldn't get the necks untied; but Dave had already grabbed the balloons. With some effort he got them through the cellar way, up the stairs, and through my bedroom door where he deposited them on my bed. Dave's shorts wouldn't be dry this soon so I was confronted with how to entertain my guest in the interim. One thing for sure, if we were going to shoot off again I didn't want any major messes to contend with in my bedroom. We would keep our juice under containment using the adult balloons that my dad had given me that were intended for this purpose.

We were flopped sideways with our feet on the floor across one of my beds facing each other. Two of the balloons were between us and the other two had fallen down between the two beds. Dave soon had one of them in his hands, fingering the rubber skin lightly creating sexy sounds that only rubber balloons can create. I began to play with the other balloon as well.

After a minute or two fingering his balloon Dave rolled over on his back, grabbed it firmly between his two hands, and began to stroke the balloon up and down over the front of his thighs. In short order he moved the area he was rubbing toward his waist and soon the balloon was pulling the loose legs of the gym shorts I had given him to wear up into his crotch. Then he continued to slide the balloon further upward over the lump that had formed under the thin cotton. I couldn't believe he was ready to go again in such a short span of time.

Dave, who was watching me closely as I observed his activity finally said, "Are you going to help me out here?"

"Sure," I said. "But I don't want any messes on the bedspread, rug, or floor. OK? Let me get us something I think you will enjoy."

I fished around in the back of my upper bureau drawer and brought out a fresh condom and brought it over to where Dave was laying. I pushed his balloon out of the way and yanked the waist band of his gym shorts down below his ball room. Free of it's constriction his stem sprang upward at a jaunty angle. Before he realized what I was about I was unrolling the rubber sheath over his stick.

Dave looked at the tissue thin white rubber covering for a moment before he said, "Hmm, feels good. I always wondered what using a rubber would feel like."

"Well let's give it a try," I suggested.

Dave clamped his balloon under his left hand up against the side of his leg and began massaging it with his long fingers pressing into the soft rubber skin. His right hand busily began stroking his more than ample length tool. In short order his oozing juice had coated the inside of his rubber sheath. This however reduced the friction and Dave began pumping harder. The increasing crescendo from his tortured balloon indicated he had also increased the efforts of his other hand as well.

Within moments there was a sudden POOF as the balloon he was rubbing ruptured from the abuse. I quickly handed Dave the other balloon on the bed but as I jammed it into his hand the nail of his outstretched finger must have jabbed it because it suddenly burst shooting a sizable sheet of it's rubber skin up under his chin.

The look on Dave's face indicated he needed some immediate additional stim if he was going to make it. I put my inhibitions aside as I quickly knelt on the floor between his legs and stuck his rubber cased dick between my lips. I slid my hands up the outside of his thighs under the legs of his shorts and began squeezing his legs as my tightly clamped lips moved up and down over his most sensitive area.

Within moments Dave groaned and stiffened his legs as I felt his stem give a mighty pulse and his boy juice slammed against the confining end of the rubber. I kept massaging his tool for many seconds until he finally pushed my head away. Dave was one super 'laxed dude, to say the least.

After a couple of minutes Dave floated down and his dick began to deflate. Dave sat up on the edge of the bed and looked down at the dangling rubber bag partially filled with his boy juice. He slid the condom off as he said, "What do you do with this?"

"Here I'll show you," I said as I took the rubber sack from his fingers.

Dave pulled the waist of his shorts back to their normal position and followed me into the bathroom where I proceeded to rinse out his rubber. With it filled with water I was able to deftly re-roll it so that it was as good to go again as when I first put it on him.

"Dave, if you rinse them out and re-roll them like this and then stick it in a small air tight container, I use a Copenhagen snuff tin, you can use your rubber over and over again," I suggested. "I've had several last as long as three weeks before they finally rip while I'm using them."

As I handed Dave the rubber I cheerfully said, "You had better be sure your folks don't see this or they are liable to get all excited about what you might be doing in your spare time."

We still had time to kill until his pants would be dry. I had no doubt that Dave was finished for the night. I tried to get him talking about balloons and the fun we had and could have with them but the fetish stimulation was long gone. I could sense that he felt that he owed me another whack off which really I didn't feel I needed or would even be able to perform. As we talked he did admit that he really did like seeing me get sexed up and shooting my load. As far as balloons were concerned they were not overly important to him insofar as getting him off, but he really liked the effect the rubber toys had on me. He also allowed that seeing me playing with balloons while wearing my baggy shorts gave me a young boyish look that made me sexually stimulating to him.

After about fifteen minutes Dave decided to retrieve the two remaining balloons on the floor. With them in hand he said, "What can I do with these to get you excited again, buddy?"

I had to tell him I didn't think I could go again no matter what he did to me with them. Then he suggested I lay back on my bed with my knees up. Dave was grinning as he exclaimed, "I guess we gotta get rid of these. You seem to like having balloons busted on your knees and I really like busting them that way."

With that Dave squashed the one in his right hand down on my right knee and started twisting it as he pressed it ever harder onto my kneecap. The rubber protested loudly as he slowly increased the downward pressure. Finally the balloon broke with a sharp POP as his hand slammed down on my knee. At this point Dave began firmly squeezing the front of my lag as his hand slowly inched it's way down under the leg of my shorts. Oh oh oh. His firm hand felt good as my dick sprang to life. Soon his fingers were flicking my stem. After less than a minute of finger massage, Dave pulled the waist of my gym shorts down. He shifted position and knelt on the floor beside my bed. He handed me the balloon he held in his left hand as he started pumping away on my shaft.

I was staring at him through the rubber of the balloon I was holding as I began to squeeze and rub it. As I neared orgasm I increased the pressure my fingers were applying to the rubber skin. The balloon was a toughie and before I knew it the sudden surge of ecstasy overtook me. My juice shot up onto my tee shirt just below my chin. As I went over the top I gouged the balloon I was holding and it obediently popped between my hands as the rubber tore asunder.

Dave used his hand to squeegee the goo off my stem and then proceeded to try to wipe it off his palm by smearing it on my knee and upper leg. Then he got up and sat on the bed while I floated down. I spread the blobs of boy juice on my tee shirt around a bit working it into the cotton so it would dry quicker and not have a chance to inadvertently transfer to something else. Then I hiked my gym shorts up and we went down to the kitchen to get Dave's scout and under shorts out of the oven that were getting dried.

Dave stripped off the somewhat oversize gym shorts I had given him to wear and replaced them with his gear. Then I bade him farewell and he headed for home.

I went down in the cellar and gathered up all the larger pieces of torn rubber along with the neck nubs and put them in my busted balloon rubber bag for later disposal. I ran the vac over the concrete floor to gather up the hundreds of small shards from the over inflated balloons we had popped.

After a nice bath I hopped in bed with the pair of gym shorts I had given Dave to wear. They were still damp from Dave's sexual excitement not to mention the strong scent of his crotch sweat. As I fingered to soft well worn cotton I quickly became stimulated and in short order I had a third delightful experience in a period of only about two hours. No question I would have to find a suitable hiding place for these 'special' shorts because there was no way they were going to get tossed in the dirty clothes bin. Wow, what a night to remember.

Fun In the Woods-                                                        <Ret. to Top>

It had only been a couple of days since Dave's late Saturday night visit. It wasn't unusual if he wasn't working for a local farmer or doing chores for his mom for him, invariably along with his younger brother Mike, to come over to my place to see if I was doing anything interesting. Now the boys standard summer garb was the longish baggy denim shorts his mother had made all of us, tee shirts, and army style boots with calf length boot socks. This day, however, Dave showed up alone wearing the scout uniform I had given him; knee socks, neckerchief, and all. He and his brother only wore their scout uniforms out of deference to me only when we were going on a major hike or overnight camp out. As a result I immediately sensed that he was looking for more than our usual play fare this bright sunny day.

It didn't take me more than a minute or so to rush up to my room and jam an assortment of rubber playthings into the roomy pockets of my scout shorts. At the last moment as I finished gathering up the balloons for our trip I grabbed a fistful of the rubber bands I had made from busted 560 airship balloons. When they popped they almost always split open from one end to the other. I would salvage the resulting long three inch wide rectangular rubber sheet and tie the neck to the far end forming a wide rubber band. I enjoyed wearing the brightly colored strips of rubber around my head, above my elbows, and over the roll at the top of my knee socks just below my knees. When I would put them on they immediately gave me that distinctive Native American look.

With a stock of play toys in pocket and a noticeably excited feeling in my crotch area we quickly set out. Soon we entered the woods and were out of sight of houses. I told Dave to wait up and I fished several of the brightly colored broken balloons out of my rear pocket. Dave stood watching me slip the bands on over my arms, legs, and head. By the time I was done and handed over some bands for his use Dave laughingly said, "What the hell is this? You look like some kind of queer Indian."

"So what's wrong with that," I shot back. "They add some color to these dull scout uniforms and I think they look and feel sexy. Besides with your sweat and the sun beating down on the rubber they will soon smell really good."

Dave was far from convinced but he did bring the handful of the used rubber sleeves I gave him up to his nose. After hesitating for a few seconds Dave said, "If it gives you a thrill I'll put them on just for you."
Dave slipped the bands on and positioned them at the appropriate locations. Then as I had he spread out the rubber sheets so they weren't just bundled and rolled up like a rope. When he was finished adjusting things and as he turned to move on he commented, "I hope these silly hunks of rubber don't get you juiced off before we get to the interesting stuff, buddy."

Not likely, but the bands on his legs did set his knees off nicely and added color to his tanned muscular legs; very nice indeed. I took note that Dave's comment indicated he was hoping for some hands on fun at the conclusion of our afternoon's activities.

When we were about three quarters of the way to the area where I felt it would be safe for us to pop off balloons without arousing too much attention Dave stopped and indicated he had to take a leak. Normally he would have turned his back to me and pissed up against a large tree. We were, however, in the middle of a small grassy glen and after making his announcement he turned to me and asked for a balloon. I handed him a party size clear blue one thinking maybe he was planning to piss in it and then try to pop it by pressing it against my body. We would both wind up getting sprayed with his urine. This wasn't his plan, however.

As Dave set to work blowing it up he marched back and forth flattening a patch of grass about five feet square. He blew up the balloon to an over inflated pear shape then allowed some air to escape until the neck collapsed to a tear drop configuration. As he tied the balloon off Dave casually remarked, "I'd really like to piss on your cute shorts and legs but I don't think you would go for that, so pissing all over this balloon will have to do. Do you gotta go? Why don't you squirt it too?"

Dave had misjudged what caused me to get excited. When the dogs were after us up on the mountain and the boys had peed all over my shorts, legs, and stockings to give me a strong scent, I had found the wet smelly warmth of their urine on my clothes and body stimulating. However this was in the beginning of our day's adventure and as I was already uncomfortable from my own bodily fluids that were oozing out of me I was satisfied to let the blue rubber get sprayed. We stood on opposite sides of the balloon target, hiked up the leg of our scout shorts and let fly.

To the insect sounds in the woods was added the unmistakable drumming of our streams of water hitting the inflated balloon. The inertia of our pee hitting the sides of the balloon caused it to bounce up and down and get pushed from side to side just like when fireman compete to push a huge field ball over a goal line by squirting it with fire hoses. In our case it was on a much smaller scale.
Now grass cuts wet rubber every bit as easily as broken glass. As my stream petered out, Dave who had more to unload then I did, was able to push the balloon toward me with his last major squirt. Some of the wet surface was scrubbed on the grass and the balloon popped at my feet. The flying wet urine coated rubber sprayed my boots, stockings, and legs. Dave enjoyed it because he thought it was funny and thought it would anger me, but I didn't really mind that much at all.

Finally, well sweated, we reached our play area. I emptied our balloon supply from my pockets onto the ground and divided the balloons between us. I didn't bring any fourteen inchers because I only had about five gross left in my stash, and at least for now, I wanted to reserve them for myself. I had little doubt Dave would turn his half into so much ripped rubber long before I did and I couldn't see watching him bust off my big ones as readily as he finished off the smaller balloons that I had in far greater abundance. Then again I really got more stim out of watching Dave bust balloons than if I popped them myself. Balloons really were not a fetish item for Dave. For him they were just toys, playthings, something that was fun to break. And he really did enjoy breaking them and seeing the effect that this had on me.
Dave scooped up his share of the rubber bags and stuffed them in the pocket of his shorts. Then he pulled off his neckerchief and began to mop his face with it as he commented, "At least this is one thing these silly neck rags are good for."

"Why, what's silly about them," I said. "Hell they sop up a lot of sweat that would otherwise run down your neck and soak your shirt and they add a dash of color to your outfit. Besides if they weren't of some value why would cowboys always be wearing them? Hay let's face it. Our shorts label us as being boys and our neckerchiefs as scouts. I think a neckerchief gives us an outdoorsy macho look, don't you?"

"Well maybe," Dave allowed, "But both our shirts are already sweat soaked even with wearing these neck rags."

After wiping his face Dave didn't seem to be in any hurry to replace his neckerchief so I thought I would give myself a bit of extra stim by asking if he would like to trade and I at least could wear his. Smelling his sweat and BO would be more stimulating than my odor, which after sixteen years, I was fairly oblivious to.

I pulled down the slide on my neckerchief and as I slipped it over my head I asked Dave if I could wear his. He gave me a funny look and handed me his neckerchief and to my surprise at the same time grabbed mine. He didn't seem to mind trading at all as he quickly took it, flipped it over his head, and cinched it about his neck.

Dave soon had a balloon out of his pocket and had the rubber bag stretched out a foot or more between his hands as he asked, "How do you want to start busting them, buddy?"

"Well we have a pretty nice open play area here, why don't we blow up about a dozen of the round balloons for starters," I suggested. "We can bat them back and forth to each other or maybe try some balloon wrestling. Let's just blow them up until they are nice and round though. That way they will be a lot tougher and won't bust so easily on us when we get rough with them."

I really didn't want to see my balloons just being slaughtered, although that would have been sufficient for Dave. I wanted to have some fun popping them off. I like to give balloons a chance to fight for their lives before the rubber skin rips. I think it is much more sexually stimulating that way.
We immediately set to work and in a matter of a few minutes had six balloons apiece inflated and tied off. I finished my last one a bit ahead of Dave and as he was knotting the neck on his last balloon I walked over to him with it firmly clamped between my two hands. I used my balloon to knock the balloon he had just finished tying out of his hands. Then I jammed my balloon in Dave's face causing him to instinctively grab my balloon as well to push it away.

Naturally with two guys and four hands on one balloon there was a lot of squeezing and rubber getting rubbed. This in turn generated a good deal of that unmistakable sound of a balloon being tortured. My semi limp dangling stem was quickly roused to life.

I could see Dave was really getting into our play because his efforts at controlling our rubber toy became more aggressive. He apparently also took note of my heightened excitement because he suddenly managed to yank downward on the balloon which gained him a moment or two of control that he effectively used to scrub the balloon around on the sensitive area just below my belt buckle. Ooooh it felt really good. I delayed opposing his balloon parry.

Apparently the corner of my western style buckle gouged the rubber because just as I was beginning to really enjoy things the balloon went POOF in Dave's hands. He immediately verified his suspicions of my condition by grabbing the fly area of my scout shorts and squeezing my inflated tube that was trapped beneath.

"Oh ho, silly balloon got you all sexed up I see," Dave smirked.

We then both turned and ran to get some of the remaining balloons out of the grass and into the air. We each batted a couple toward each other. There wasn't much of a breeze and they didn't travel very far even when given a good swat with our hands. We had to bat them a second time to get them into each other's operating zones. In short order the two of us were within arm's reach of each other whacking the balloons off each other's bodies. Inevitably the flying balloons would eventually get trapped between our hands and the other guy's body and would pop from the force of our swings. A couple of others fell to the ground and were quickly trampled underfoot. Sudden squeaks and POPs punctuated our play for the next several minutes as one by one the balloons we were abusing were reduced to torn sheets of rubber.

Then suddenly as Dave lunged trying to bat a balloon back to me near the edge of the glen his left foot caught on a root or something buried in the grass. He landed hard on his right knee and I heard him stifle back a pain induced yell. As he slowly got to his feet he uttered a curse and I could see bright red blood making it's way down his leg from a gash in his knee. I knew when we set out this afternoon I was hoping we would bust our knees up enough that we could both sport the red badge of boyhood courage on our bare legs before we headed home. I really doubted if Dave had the same self mutilation thoughts, however a sudden twist of fate had given me some perverse enjoyment at my friend's expense. As I ran over to him it looked like he had really done a number on his knee.

Dave bent over and fumbled around in the grass and soon retrieved nature's hidden weapon that had so readily busted his skin open. It was about a two pound piece of broken off rock buried in the grass that had a couple of really sharp edges where it had cracked from a larger stone. Dave had it in his hand and was about to toss it as far as his anger driven strength would permit. Then suddenly a smile flashed across his face as he said with a bit of a sneer, "How about the two of us becoming bare knee blood brothers?"

I immediately discerned his intent and was just what I wanted to hear. Fortunately in the early fifties no one ever heard of AIDs and many a boy traded blood with another, or at least thought they did, in the manner of Twain's Tom and Huck. One thing was for sure, if I were going to allow Dave to mutilate me it had to be right now while he was still free flowing and I hadn't the time to consider the physical pain that would be involved or how to explain it to dad later tonight.

I quickly knelt down in front of Dave on my right knee and allowed my left to be up thrust toward him. With the rock in hi hand Dave swung his arm down and gouged one of the sharp edges into the hide on my kneecap. The blow felt like a searing hot flame. Alas his first effort busted my skin but didn't produce any great amount of blood. Dave was undaunted, however, and before I was even prepared, he gave my knee another slicing blow. This quickly produced a copious amount of the desired red fluid.

Dave and I hunched our butts toward each other and planted our bloodied knees in contact with one another, hopefully wound to wound. I told Dave I was committed to wearing short pants year around until I went off to college when I was eighteen (This was more like a mandate from my father). Dave was not nearly as willing to commit his legs to the physical, mental, and emotional rigors of wearing shorts but he finally allowed that he would wear shorts to the extent possible. He even excitedly mentioned that we could be busting snowballs off each others knees when winter time arrived. I took this to mean that he wasn't going to burn at least the shorts I had given him at the end of October as he and his brother Mike had planned to do when their mom said they could stop wearing shorts for the year unless they wanted to.

I doubt very much if there was actually any transfer of bodily fluids between us but in the minute or so of knee to knee contact we really managed to smear up or knees and the fronts of our legs well down into the roll of our knee socks. The rubber bands around our legs below our knees were all gummed up with sticky blood and did little to prevent it from flowing down past and soaking the tops of our scout stockings. The flesh to flesh contact did stem the flow of blood to a large extent and when we parted most of the flow had stopped. We would definitely have to go further down into the woods to reach some clean water to get ourselves in less goulash shape before we headed for home.

Dave pulled the blood coated rubber garter off his right leg and then removed the one from his left. It seemed like a good idea to me as well so I pulled mine off too. I didn't have any more to replace the two that had become mucked up from our knee abuse. Dave tossed his two bands on the ground next to mine and I put the ones that were not blood smeared in my back pocket. The other two would have to wait until I could get to some water to wash them off.

Dave observing my recycling effort had other ideas. He reached in his side pocket and pulled out the cigarette lighter he always carried as he said, "These two are all messed up. Lets hang them on a tree limb and burn them. I love to watch rubber burn."

Dave was my kind of guy. We got up from the grass and moved a bit into the woods where we found a small branch that was overhanging a large rock that would catch the burning drops of rubber. Dave snapped the end off the branch and I hung the sticky rubber rings from the limb. Then he flicked his lighter to life and let the yellow flame kiss the bottoms of the rubber loops. The rubber quickly flared into orangish flame and blobs of burning rubber cascaded down on the top of the rock as the flames raced up the rubber sheeting. In less than 30 seconds only the melted black drippings on the rock that were still flaming remained. We could see the rock from where we were sitting on the grass so it was safe for us to head back to our play area.

There were still several balloons from our volleyball game lying about in the grass. Dave was behind me and as I walked into the glen I kicked up a green balloon that was hiding in the grass as I passed by. I was sort of testing Dave to see what his response to the fragile rubber toy would be. As I reached the spot where we had been sitting a sharp POP made it clear that he couldn't resist busting the helpless toy. I quickly turned around to see how he had finished it off.

Dave was just straightening up and had a sheepish grin on his face. While we were walking back and he had his lighter in hand he had lit up a cigarette. It was clear that the rubber skin of the pretty green balloon had been seared by the cigarette's glowing tip. Standing there in his scout shorts Dave looked like a kid at a birthday party that had just busted another kid's balloon. Almost apologetically he said, "I love to bust balloons with cigarettes. Here do you want this cig to pop off a few?"

I really didn't want to chance the tobacco smell on my breath when I got home so I declined his offer. In any case there were only four inflated balloons left from our play and I really would rather enjoy watching Dave apply his busting weapon to them in his inimitable way. Dave walked over to his first target and was just going to burn it right where it lay in the grass when I yelled at him to wait and I would bat it up in the air toward him. This would give us a much better chance to view the flying pieces of ripped rubber as the balloon burst. Dave backed away from the balloon and as I walked over and picked it up he took a drag on the cigarette to insure that the tip was searing hot and ready to go.

There wasn't much of a breeze so I batted the balloon up in the air because it wouldn't travel very far in the absence of air currents. Dave swooped in and with the glowing tip pointed upward he allowed the hapless toy to drift down on it. The balloon POPPED probably before it actually contacted the glowing ash. At least two large sheets of rubber flew off to either side and fluttered to the grass as the balloon tore asunder.

Dave appeared downright gleeful as one at a time I fetched the balloons from their resting places and swatted them to their doom as Dave deftly intercepted their flight with his cigarette. POP POP POP! There is never any doubt about the result when rubber balloons and fire get together. Rubber burns baby. No question, in Davy babes I had me a real live balloon busting buddy.

There was still quite a bit of life left in Dave's cigarette and he obviously wanted to make more destructive use of it. He transferred his cigarette to his left hand, fished out a balloon, started blowing it up, and bade me do likewise. We still had a number of balloons left so I figured since he was enjoying burning them so much, not to mention the enjoyment I was getting watching him, he could touch off another dozen or so and we still would have some left for more sensual play later.

Dave didn't bother to fully inflate his balloon. With it about three quarters full and still in his lips he just swung the cigarette up and pressed the burning tip into the rubber skin. POOF! The balloon popped in his face and about half of it, still attached to the neck, dangled down over and below his chin. After a moment or so he spit the torn rubber from between his lips, broke into a wide silly grin, and started working on blowing up another one.

I guess, since I was supplying the balloons, I wanted to get a little more bang for my buck I continued inflating mine until the neck expanded up to my lips. Dave took note and moved toward me until he was only a step or so away. I had watched him burn his through the translucent skin of my balloon. I also now clearly saw the business end of his cigarette heading toward my face.

I would have had time to remove the balloon from my lips and properly present it for destruction, but I was betting Dave would get a lot more enjoyment popping it right in my face. It really wouldn't be any different than if I had time to put another breath or two into it causing the rubber to rip on it's own, so I let it float in front of my face.

BANG! A nice loud POP. Dave had applied the cigarette to the far end so the balloon split open toward me. This caused a large chunk of the rubber to give me a good sting on my cheek where my fingers weren't providing protection. Dave enjoyed what he had done and the sudden bright red mark that quickly flared on my face. "Got ya," Dave beamed.

Then he bent down and retrieved the large rubber sheet that had swatted me. He stuck the cigarette in his mouth and stretched a section of the rubber between the fingers of both of his hands. He brought the sheet up to his face whereupon a large hole suddenly opened up as the glowing tip of the cigarette burned through the rubber. He stretched another section of the sheet and proceeded to pop another hole in it as well. Then he tossed the rubber aside as he removed the cigarette from his mouth and examined it. After a few moments he commented, "This busts rubber better than a pin. Burns it lickity split. Let's see what it will do to some of your tough skin. Stick your leg over here buddy."

Dave lunged toward the expanse of bare flesh between the top of my stocking and the hem of my shorts on the leg he hadn't cut up. I jumped back as I shouted, "No way. You damn well are not going to burn me."

"What's the matter? You chicken?" Dave laughingly exclaimed. "Your old man burned your little ole knee and you were proud that you could take it. Come on, let me hear you scream a little."

"You first, smart ass," I demanded. "Hand me that cigarette and let me burn your knee first and we will see if you can take it. If you don't let out a yell my skin is all yours to burn or bust up however you want."
Dave had to think my offer over for a bit. If his knee that he had gouged on the rock when he fell stung and burned anywhere near like mine that I had let him purposefully slice up was aching, additional leg pain avoidance was that smart choice at this juncture. He was intently eyeing up my dirty but un-bloodied knee as he was contemplating his course of action and I could see that applying the burning tip of the cigarette to my flesh would have really made his day and maybe might also get him stimulated sexually a bit.

I knew I could take the searing pain without a sound leaving my lips; I had in the past. So to allow him his pleasure and demonstrate that my guts were up to his challenge, I stepped toward him, gingerly kneeled on my sliced up knee and presenting my other knee up thrust to him. Dave smiled suspiciously then took a long drag on his cigarette. He bent over and slowly pressed the burning ash into the flesh on my kneecap. I recoiled slightly and sucked air into my lungs as the searing pain flooded my brain. There was a small waft of smoke and the acrid smell of burning flesh as he removed the now crushed out cigarette from my knee.

Dave gave me a kind of silly embarrassed look as he said softly, "Boy you really can take pain, can't you. I guess now it's my turn. My knees aren't as tough as yours, you know."
"I'll be happy to burn your knee if you want, but it's not really necessary," I replied. "And I am not going to call you a chicken either if you don't want me to hurt you. Hay, you didn't scream when we took our brotherhood vow up on the mountain and we burned each other with the fire brands; and they caused worse burns on our legs then your cigarette did just now."

Dave hesitated for a moment and then tossed the crushed out cigarette into the grass. Then with a decided disgusted air he flopped down on the grass. He was angry with himself because he was afraid he wouldn't be able to prevent yelling out if I were to burn his knee.

We were both sitting on the grass facing toward each other with our knees up in front of us. Dave was positioned at a slight angle so his lower legs didn't block most of the view presented by the generous full cut legs of his shorts as they draped from his thighs. I noted the leg openings were so roomy that even the hems of his boxer under shorts hung free and unrestricted. Because of the shade thrown by the trees I couldn't discern anything much further up than that unfortunately. I noted Dave's gaze was focused on the same general area of my anatomy as well.

I finally broke the silence and said what I was hoping Dave was thinking, "Dave I really love seeing those shorts on you. Along with those knee socks they really show off your nice and tough strong legs. Not being afraid to wear shorts shows that you are not afraid to be a boy, a boy that looks forward to getting his bare legs and knees skinned up."

"Really turn you on, do I," Dave replied with a hint of sarcasm. "That's good because I really do like to see you get yourself all steamed up. I know you get really excited when I blow up and bust balloons for you and I guess you know I love to bust them even though it doesn't get me near as excited like you."
"What does get you excited, Dave?" I offered. "It can't just be watching me get a good hard on, can it? Does the way I'm dressed and look now do anything for you?

Dave thought for a moment before responding, "I love your innocent little boy look that you have when you are wearing shorts, especially gym pants or the shorter scout shorts you had on Saturday night. I really like looking at your sexy legs and tough skinned up knees too. When you have a balloon in your hand, particularly when you are blowing them up, it makes you look even more like a little boy. I especially enjoy watching you bust balloons and helping you get your legs and shorts dirtied up. And I really enjoy knowing your rocks are getting all loaded up when we fool around with each other."

"Same for me too, Dave." I replied. "I love those baggy shorts you're wearing along with your knee socks. They really show off your sexy legs really well. And yes I especially like watching you play with and bust balloons and I also enjoy griming up your knees. And I do like seeing the sweaty neckerchief around your neck. It really gives you that scoutish outdoorsy look."

"Good," Dave said emphatically. "I really don't mind wearing this neck rag if it turns you on and you know I'll be more than happy to bust as many balloons as you want any way you want. Hell what else are they good for except to blow up and pop?"

I threw Dave a snappy salute as I said, "You got that right Dave. Balloons have one function in life and that is to get busted."

Dave rolled over a bit on his left side so he could grab a few balloons out of his right pocket. I watched as he blew up a nice dark green one, only stopping when all of the available neck had become fully distended. I wondered what he had planned for the overly stretched translucent rubber toy. After examining the balloon for a few moments he allowed air to escape until the inflated neck had all but disappeared and the balloon was a more durable round shape. Watching me closely he then he knotted the neck and proceeded to allow his fingertips to lightly glide over the rubber skin creating that unmistakable sound of a toy balloon being rubbed.

I was already more than a bit excited down below simply from our brief frank conversation and the sound of rubber / skin contact. The anticipation this created started my dick oozing again. I did not hide my growing excitement from Dave and he responded by pressing in harder with the palms of his hands greatly increasing the crescendo from the tortured rubber. It would be only a short matter of time until the abuse was too great and the pretty rubber toy would burst ripping into useless torn sheets of green latex. Dave was smiling at my rapt attention and obvious enjoyment of his activity.

Then, rather than continue rubbing until the balloon busted, Dave pushed himself up from where he was sitting in the grass into a semi squatting stance. He took the balloon and jammed it between his legs and slowly lowered his butt down on it causing the rubber to swell out to the sides as the balloon was crushed down on the back of his calves. As he applied his weight the neck was forced out from between his thighs from the front of his crotch. As he applied his weight the rubber from the upper front portion of the balloon had to be in intimate contact with his balls and the lower portion of his stem.

Again monitoring my reaction to his sexually stimulating effort on my behalf he gently started bouncing his butt up and down which caused the balloon neck to repeatedly thrust out from between his legs. The expanding rubber sliding against his sweat dampened shorts and the skin of his upper legs created a very stimulating auditory adjunct to his balloon torture.

Alas the pretty green rubber all too soon fatigued and with a sudden POOM the balloon disappeared and his butt dropped further down and bounced off the back of his combat boots.
Still fixing me with his stare Dave queried, "Hay buddy, did you enjoy that?"

"You know I did Dave," I replied. "I love to see good rubber / skin contact. Now what I want to know is did you really enjoy busting the balloon like that?"

Dave just grinned as he grabbed another balloon and started inflating it. In a flash I heaved myself up from my sitting position in front of him and lunging toward him I knocked him over backwards from his squatting position. I planted my knees into the grass on either side of his boots as I pushed him backwards. Dave's legs were together with his knees up in front of him as I pressed my crotch down on them. My right hand quickly gripped the fly area of his shorts and the hard tubular organ verified my suspicions that balloon play could get buddy boy turned on just as well as me.

Dave wasn't too pleased with my sudden hands on verification of his stim status as I sarcastically announced, "I see a little balloon rubbing and busting does turn you on too."

Dave didn't really know what to say next so, as he lay flat on his back with me straddling his legs, he started pumping air into the balloon he was holding. Meantime I was scrunching my sensitive area around on his knees. Dave reached up with his left hand and grabbed my shorts just below my belt buckle and gave a good squeeze. The sudden unwelcome pressure on my sensitive tip broke the reverie of the moment and I realized that jacking off by rubbing my stem on Dave's knees probably wasn't the most appropriate action. I lifted myself off him and as I backed away pulled him upright to a sitting position. All this time he was filling the balloon he had gripped in his right hand.

I watched as he over inflated the balloon to soften it up as he had the last one. This time, however, there was a defect in the balloon or he had just forced in a tad too much air. Because as he removed the neck from his mouth and was about to relieve some of the excess pressure, the balloon suddenly popped with a resounding BANG that reverberated down through the woods and caused both of us to jump at it's unexpectedness.

"Oops, I made the sucker a little too big, I guess," Dave said sheepishly. "Oh well, that's what balloons are supposed to do, right?"

"Right," I said positively. "Busting balloons is what they're all about, buddy. I know you really enjoy popping them and I really enjoy watching you in action."

Dave flashed me a smile as he said, "Anytime buddy. I enjoy making you happy and, uh, keeping you all hard."

Dave fished around and grabbed a third balloon from the pile he had pulled out of his pocket and started working on it. I found a fourteen incher and blew it up for my use. Again we both over inflated our toys and let some air out to get them soft before we tied them off. Then we reached between our legs holding our balloons behind us as we lowered our butts down on them. The fourteen inch balloon I had was a bit large for this use because I wasn't able to squat down very far before the neck fully distended and the tension of the rubber skin reached a dangerous level.

My focus was on Dave who again started riding his toy causing the sides and neck to squirt out to the front and sides with a brrupt, brrupt, brrupt, sound. Then POOM, as a couple of sheets of rubber flew out from under Dave's ass. I was so engrossed in Dave's activity that I was oblivious to the balloon that was attempting to support my butt. It too suddenly burst with a nice snappy POP as I unconsciously applied too much pressure. I was rewarded with a nice rubber sting on the back of my left leg right below the hem line of my shorts.

"Get you excited there buddy," Dave called out. "It's fun to squash them that way, don't you think?"

"Yes," I replied. "The balloons tend to put pressure in the areas where it counts."

Dave looked me over for a minute and then said, "Are you ready to go yet?"

"It's too early to head home yet," I shot back. "We have another hour or so to have some fun."

"I didn't mean go home," Dave replied in an annoyed tone. "I meant are you ready to shoot some cum, ol' buddy."

"Yes I could go for some of that, but let's go down in the bog and find some fresh water and get ourselves cleaned up a bit before we have some of that kind of fun," I suggested.

Actually the gash Dave had done on my knee was hurting big time and would have most certainly inhibited my ability to reach orgasm. A clean up for both of us wouldn't hurt and would improve the possible infection situation. Also if we got into an intimate huggy feeley mode it wouldn't do to get the grime and blood that coated one of our knees on our clothing. Dave agreed with my suggestion and we headed further down the woods into the marshy bog area.

I was leading the way and not paying any particular attention to Dave. As we broke into the open wet marshy area I was suddenly startled by something hitting the back of my knees. I spun around and discovered Dave had blown up his airship balloon as we hiked along and had tried to jam the end of it between my legs as I walked.

Dave was laughing as he took the one end of his five foot long balloon and stuck it up between his thighs. Then he told me to turn around and face forward and do likewise with the other end. This put us about three feet from each other coupled by the tightly stretched thin rubber tube that we had clamped between our legs and jammed up into our crotch's. Dave pushed forward so I started to continue walking. Naturally the balloon did not stay up between the legs of our shorts for more than a few steps and had soon worked it's way down to the bare skin region above our knees. Between our legs swinging back and forth past each other and the fact that it was impossible for us both to be in lock step the roaring and screeching sound of the rubber sliding against the skin of our legs soon drowned out the ambient woodland sounds. A few more steps and we had to grab the balloon which had now worked it's way down below our knees and was in danger of getting popped by the grass or the rough tops of our boots.

We spread our legs apart and re-positioned the balloon back up into our crotches again. This time I told Dave to grab hold of it with both hands as we tried to keep it well up between our legs. Needless to say the rubber tube caressing the inside of my thighs as well as my sack had my tube fully inflated. We managed to stumble along for a couple of hundred feet further before the balloon gave up and burst.
It was a no brainer for Dave to figure that the balloon rubbing in my crotch had me super excited. I should have checked him out but he quickly pulled another airship balloon out of his pocket and started puffing away on it. I was mesmerized watching the rubber tube expand from his face outward; the wrong way to blow up a tubular balloon. I was resigned to watching it's most likely sudden demise as he tried to get the far end fully inflated. To my surprise Dave got the entire balloon up and actually stopped blowing before it busted. The neck end was really really tight with the rubber skin at its limit, however. Dave examined his work and actually allowed a bit of air to escape before he tied off the neck.

"Stand here and spread your pretty legs apart," Dave commanded.

I moved next to him and planted my feet about thirty inches apart. Dave standing along side of me slid the balloon between my legs and grabbed each end. He pulled up on the ends and proceeded to pull the balloon back and forth through my crotch in the same manner I used to dry myself down there after a bath. The pulled up ends massaged my ass cheeks in the rear and my balls and tube in the front. Since the rubber was in contact with my shorts the squeaking sound was minimal but the effects on my stimulation were maximal. I was getting all gooey big time in a hurry. I think given another few minutes I would easily have been able to cream right in my shorts.

Sensing my growing excitement, Dave pulled up even more on the end of the balloon in front of me to increase the contact. This quickly overtaxed his rubber stimulator which actually burst in half forming a front and rear section.

"Damn," Dave muttered. "Just when I think you were beginning to have fun. You looked like you were almost ready to cream yourself right in those sexy shorts of yours."

I looked at Dave and asked, "Would you have liked to see me do that, Dave?"

"Sure I'd love to see you squirt in your pants and get them all wetted up with your jiz," Dave said almost breathlessly.

Then just on a hunch I offered, "Well one thing I do know is that I need to get some relief down below here. How about we blow up a couple of balloons and you play with me and I'll shoot my load into my gym shorts. And then would you like me to give them to you to take home to play with and maybe wear later?"

Dave immediately laughed my question off but I could see from the sudden flush in his face that either my scout shorts or the gym shorts I was wearing underneath, well coated with my boy juice, would be a highly appreciated gift.

I quickly led us to a higher somewhat drier area of the bog and quickly unbuckled and dropped my scout shorts. We each blew up a couple of the round balloons for my added stimulation. I lay back on the grass with a nice soft balloon clamped between my hands that I could smell and rub on my chest. Dave was down on his knees to the side of me and started rubbing a balloon over the fronts of my legs and up over the waist of my gym shorts that were somewhat damp from sweat overall and down right wet in the area over my extended stem. When the sliding balloon hit this area of my shorts there was a sudden increase in the rubber squeal.

Dave massaged me for several minutes. I was almost there but just couldn't get over the top. Sensing my stalled condition, Dave swung himself over the top of me with his knees planted on either side of my hips. He jammed his balloon down in his crotch and proceeded to squash it down on me with his hips that he was rocking back and forth. His arms were on my chest to help support himself and his fingers grabbed into the balloon I was holding. The squeaking of the two balloons between us and the intimate body contact separated only by the rubber toys quickly sent me over the top and I blasted a massive load of juice into my gym shorts and all over my lower abdomen.

Dave sensed my release and jammed his fingers into the balloon on my chest which burst with a half hearted pop. He flattened his hips on mine as my juice started to gush and managed to get the other balloon to bust with a wet sounding POOM. With that accomplished Dave rolled off of me to give me room to float down from a truly spectacular orgasm.

After a couple of minutes I had recovered and my tube was shrinking back to normal. I rousted myself from my bed of grass and slipped out of my sticky wetted white school gym shorts which I dropped on the ground next to Dave. I retrieved my scout shorts and put them back on. We were off to the side of the bog near the woods but still pretty much exposed. Nudity isn't my bag, and although it was highly unlikely there was anyone within a mile or so, having my half limp dick exposed felt uncomfortable.
I smiled at Dave and said, "Your turn. Do you want some balloon rubbing to get you started or what?"

Dave didn't answer but he did get up and slipped out of his scout shorts. His stem was definitely at the ready, forming a nice tent in the thin cotton of his under shorts. He pulled the elastic waist band down and hooked it under his sack. Finally he pulled off my neckerchief he was wearing and held it in his right hand.

Dave's apparent stand up orgasm caught me by surprise. However I soon understood why when he demanded, "Suck me off buddy. I'll catch my juice in this neck rag for you. How does that sound?"

The thought of Dave's dirty dick in my mouth was appalling. The thought of catching his juice almost made me gag. But there was his inviting joy stick prominently distended above his baggy under shorts not to mention his bronzed nicely muscled legs that were inviting me to grab and massage them. So without really considering the sanitary ramifications any further I knelt in front of Dave, stuck his tool between my lips, and clamped my hands on the thighs of his legs to brace myself. Dave immediately began pumping his tube for all it was worth in and out of my mouth as I clamped down as hard as I could with my lips. The salty taste of sweat and urine was overpowering. Fortunately Dave was ready to go and within a minute he tightened his leg muscles and quickly withdrew his stem from my mouth. He clamped the cotton triangle of my neckerchief over his tube as he thrust several loads of his whitish juice into it. Dave then sat down on the grass and flopped over backwards to let the pleasurable moment flow over him.

After a minute or so Dave removed the neckerchief from his still partially inflated stem and handed it to me. The entire neckerchief was wet from Dave's sweat but I could see that the center section was well coated with an extra sticky substance. I balled the neckerchief up and after removing the couple of balloons that were still in my left pocket I shoved it in to carry it home.

After another couple of minutes Dave exclaimed, "Wow that was just great. Did you have fun too buddy?"

"Sure did," I said. Do you think you are going to need to go again, or should we get cleaned up and head on home?"

"I don't know about you, but I think I am done for today," Dave finally allowed.

"Yah, me too," I replied. "Let's get our knees cleaned up and head on out.

There were still two inflated balloons left intended for backup to cover premature breakage during my orgasm. Without even a second thought Dave walked over to each of them and slowly crushed them under his combat boots. They each flattened surprisingly well into the grass before exploding into sheets of colored rubber.

We found one of the springs that fed the water to the bog and got our legs, knees, and stockings cleaned up as best we could. The messy smears and caked blood belied the rather modest wounds that we actually had. I knew my father would be pleased to see I had sustained what appeared to be an honorable short pants wearing injury this day when he got home.

Mud Wrestling                                                                                          <Ret. to Top>
 

About a mile further into the swampy bog from the old abandoned farmstead was a muddy open grass covered area. During wet times there were pools of shallow water covering the black gooey mud that required high water tight boots to navigate because your feet could easily sink down a foot or more into the muck. I had often thought about how much fun it would be to roll around in the mud with one of the boys while we were wearing sneakers, white gym shorts, and tee shirts.

It was a hot summer afternoon when Dave stopped by the house. He had a paper bag in hand from which he removed two pair of white gym shorts and two white tee shirts; ones I had given him from the large batch I salvaged from school a couple of years before. He invited me to go with him down into the bog for some mud wrestling.

Dave was wearing sneakers, short socks, the scout shirt I had given him, and the baggy denim shorts his mother had made for all of us. I assumed he was wearing the same gym shorts and tee shirt as he had in the bag as under garments because this was what he normally used the salvaged gym outfits for.
Dave had accepted wearing the scout shorts I had supplied in public as well as the denim ones his mother had made, but he drew the line at running around town in the thin cotton school gym shorts. In any even I don't think his mother would have approved of such skimpy attire. In my case dad encouraged me to wear the gym shorts outside, especially down in the woods, because it would greatly increase the risk of them getting ripped and destroyed. Getting rid of my lifetime supply of short pants, especially the ones salvaged from the high school that had the other kid's names on them was on dad's agenda a good deal of the time.

When Dave showed up at the house I was wearing my high boots, knee socks, and baggy scout shorts. So when he suggested fun in the mud down in the swamp I high tailed it up to my room to trade my boots for a pair of Keds that I could easily wash. I quickly grabbed two pairs of white shorts and two tee shirts from my drawer and dumped them in Dave's bag. I wore large and Dave was a medium, so there would be no problem grabbing the right gym outfit when we get ready to play.

As Dave and I quickly hiked the three miles or so to our mud hole I realized that it wouldn't be too likely that we would be bringing our white gym outfits back home intact. I was wearing a green set of identical gym shorts and tee shirt under my scout outfit and Dave generally wore the same used gym clothing as under garments as well.

I was hoping that he wasn't just trying to get rid of the nice baggy boxer gym shorts so he wouldn't have them to wear as underpants. I really appreciated being able to see the hems as they forming a nice loose loop hanging from his solidly muscled thighs inside of the still larger loop formed by the extra full cut legs of his heavy denim shorts. I think Dave often sat in front of me with his knees raised just to let me enjoy the view.

After a bit less than an hour we reached the area of our planned activity. We both stripped off our outer shorts and shirts. I was wearing one of the white tee shirts so I left it and my red with yellow striped border scout neckerchief on. Dave, already wearing sweaty white gym shorts and tee shirt, was all ready to go. I stood in front of him and didn't bother to turn away as I slowly pulled off my green gym shorts and replaced them with the white shorts I had brought with me. Since my stem was under control, even though my body was tingling with anticipation, I made a point of not rushing so Dave would have the maximum time to check out my equipment.

It had rained the previous afternoon and there was plenty of shallow water keeping the black muck nice and gooey. As we gingerly walked further out from sold ground the mud clawed at our feet trying to rip off our sneakers. My feet and stockings quickly became wet from the nicely sun warmed water. At least our fun wouldn't be marred by having to play in cold water.

Suddenly without warning Dave lunged at me. I couldn't pull my feet out of the mud fast enough to keep from getting knocked over on my side. SQUISH! My right arm, the side of my shirt and shorts, and my right leg sunk into the black goo. For a moment I panicked as I quickly tried to regain my feet only to discover I was locked into my prone position by suction from the mud. I was hoping we weren't in quicksand or our planned fun could turn suddenly deadly.

As Dave stood laughing at me I slung a handful of the wet mud at him. It went splat on his right hip and the black ooze dribbled down the leg of his shorts. Finally he reached over to give me a hand up and I gave him a good tug that managed to pull him over on top of me. Dave's out stretched arms cushioned his fall on my chest as his hands tunneled into the mud. As he came down on me his bent knees passed to either side of my hips and spared me what could have been a painful shot to the groin.

Having Dave's strong body in intimate contact with mine instantly switched my sexual organ into high gear. I grabbed Dave around the waist bear hug fashion as my dick roared to life. Dave instinctively tried to break free but he had no solid place for his hands or legs to push against to lift himself off me. He quickly straightened out his legs so he could pull his knees up on top of mine. Dave's crotch was pressed firmly against mine As they pulled loose from the mud. OOOWEEEEE! Did it ever feel good. There was no mistaking what I was feeling. Dave's cock was racing mine as they both pushed upward toward our waists under the cotton of our shorts.

Dave suddenly blushed as he realized the wonderful intimate feeling he and I were getting from one another. The side of his face was next to mine and I whispered, "Donut fight it. Just enjoy it."

I could feel Dave's body relax as he spread his weight more evenly over mine. I released my grip on his waist and moved my mud encrusted hands up to his head as he began to scrub his hips over mine. The ends of our cocks were compressed next to one another, separated only by the school gym shorts. Dave's face was only inches from mine and I could smell the strong odor of sweat from his neck and hair. The euphoria of being in intimate sexual contact for the first time with another person removed any inhibitions I might have had and without even thinking I pulled his face towards me until I had his lips pressed against mine. Dave immediately tried jerking his head away using his neck muscles, which I'm sure he could have easily done; but his heart wasn't in the effort so our lips parted for only a moment.
We were both breathing heavily; me because Dave's weight was bearing down on my chest making breathing difficult, and Dave because of his hip action and the sexual high he was experiencing. Dave repositioned his head and pressed firmly down on my face with his lips. Next thing I knew the tip of his tongue was trying to pry my lips apart. I allowed his tongue to have it's way allowing it to flick over the front of my teeth. Oh my my. Every inch of my body was a tingling fire even though more than half of me was buried in black gunk.

After a minute of dueling tongues my balls felt like they were ready to explode. Dave was apparently at the same point. We broke our embrace as Dave managed to lift his upper body off of me by grabbing my upper arms. He allowed his legs to slide down on either side of mine, our crotch areas still in close contact.

At this point Dave threw himself over to one side, pulling my back loose from the mud and causing us to roll over on our sides. Dave's actions indicated he wanted to trade places, having me ride him. Using my one leg and arm I pushed myself up on top of him rolling him over on his back in the process. We both straightened our legs and I allowed mine to slide over his so that my knees were outside on either side of Dave's hips. I loved the feel of the warm gooey mud on my knees as I re-positioned myself so I could resume rubbing my cock on Dave's.

I started kissing Dave's neck, then his face, and finally on to his lips. A few groans issued from Dave as I felt him tense up and then his body go limp. Dave had blasted his load right into his gym shorts. The thought of his cannon, that I could readily feel pressing against my abdomen, shooting his juice into his nice white mud grimed gym shorts sent me over the top and my hips convulsed as I added my contribution to the sticky soaking wet cotton between us.

As soon as I regained some control I rolled the two of us, still pretty much in frontal contact, over on our sides so Dave would be able to breathe normally and could enjoy the ecstasy of the moment.

Dave and I had wrestled many times in the past, mainly for the enjoyment of bloodying each others knees. Smelling his body and feeling his bare legs and arms against mine generally always aroused me, but this was a first for a sexual spontaneous encounter that resulted in mutual orgasm without benefit of hand intervention. Without question our relationship had moved to a higher more intimate level.
As we lay side by side Dave started playing with both of us. After three minutes we still were both semi hard and we were close enough together that Dave's fingers could contact both of our cocks. I couldn't believe Dave was in condition to go again so soon and even I was amazed the solid hard I achieved after only a half minute or so of his effort.

Dave continued his fingering for an additional several minutes. I realized that I was not going to go again and laying in the smelly swamp goo, warm as it was, was becoming uncomfortable. I relayed this information to Dave and asked him if he thought he could shoot another load so soon. Dave nodded in the affirmative and motioned me to roll over on my back once again.

Dave mounted me and started scrubbing his tool up against mine. He buried his nose in my sweaty grimy neckerchief as he began to breathe heavily. Since I wasn't getting particularly sexed up I didn't demand any kissing, I would let Dave have his fun his way.

This time it took him a while but Dave went shooting over the top again. I could feel his juice squirt against the cotton of my shorts. When he finished he just lay like dead weight on me for a couple of minutes until I literally had to slid him off me. He was one well spent puppy; so relaxed I think he would have fallen asleep on my chest if I would have let him.

We finally got ourselves up out of the mud and on our feet. We were both covered in black gunk from our hair to our feet. The only sections of our bodies and clothing that weren't mud soaked were a couple areas where we had been pressing against one another.

Our total time in the slime was probably only twenty minutes. As we sloshed back to solid ground I asked Dave, since we were totally muddy messes at that point, if he really wanted to thrash around in the muck some more since our thin cotton attire, though filthy, was still intact. Actual wrestling would certainly result in our shorts and tee shirts getting ripped. I thought the sight of them tearing, although being wet I didn't figure the cotton would make much of a sound when it ripped, might get me excited enough that I could get off a second time. Dave said that was what he had in mind for us to do because he had an urge to destroy some of the gym clothing I had given him, and he thought wrestling and groping in the mud would be a fun way to finish them off. Seems he had seen a couple of guys wrestling in a large pan containing hundreds of gallons of Jell-O on TV the night before.

We found a pool of clean water and rinsed the muck out of our hair and off our arms and legs, got the heavier deposits off our shorts and shirts, and sat in the hot sun a while to dry off. Dave looked at me sheepishly and explained that he never expected what we had just done to ever happen, and he felt guilty and ashamed because he knew it was wrong for him to have enjoyed it so much. When he asked me how I felt I had to admit to the same feelings; but damn it sure was FUN.

After a bit we headed back out to a nice gooey area and faced off. I couldn't tell if Dave was more interested in sliming my legs and shorts or trying to rip them off me. I had a couple of chances to get a good hold on the hem of his gym shorts, but the thought of destroying pants that showed off his pretty legs so well caused me to pass up the opportunities. In short order our legs and arms were quickly coated with the slimy mud making it nearly impossible to get a good grip on each other's bodies; so it was inevitable that we would start grabbing for each other's shorts. Dave yanked really hard on the one leg of my shorts that promptly split open with a quiet sighing sound as the outer seam tore. Busting my shorts seemed to turn Dave on and it didn't take him but a few seconds more to get a good grab on my other leg and rip it open as well.

Dave had me pinned down on my back and I couldn't get free even if he hadn't been holding me. The mud was clamping my back and butt in a suction vise. Dave reached into the crotch area of my shorts, the back of his hand brushing against my semi hard dick, and pulled upward with a mighty heave. The two inner seams of the legs suddenly popped and I was left clad in two free hanging cotton sheets, one in the front and one in the back. The upward motion of his hand flipped the muddy wet front sheet over on to my chest exposing my equipment to the hot rays of the sun.

Dave wasted no time before fingering my sack and stroking my stem which dutifully inflated to it's usual unimpressive length. As he worked on me I felt the rush of orgasm gathering. Suddenly, as I felt I was nearing climax, he stopped and said, "Hay if I juice you off now you won't want to wrestle and you haven't ripped my shorts yet."

I gave Dave an annoyed look and replied, "I don't want to rip your damn shorts. I like to see you wear them. They show off your pretty legs. Balloons are made to be busted, not shorts. Why can't you just wear them until they wear out or you outgrow them. You could always pass them down to your cousin Joshua. I’ll bet he would love to wear them when you don't want them anymore."

"You like my sexy legs, huh," Dave whispered. "Well seeing you in short shorts kinda turns me on too, buddy. So just for you I won't get rid of them even though you know you gave Mike and me at least two dozen of these old gym shorts each." Dave paused then added, "I just felt in the mood to rip up some of my gym shorts today. Hey, you got any balloons with you."

I smiled as I said, "You know I always carry a few of my toys around with me just in case I get an urge to relieve some frustration. Why don't we get cleaned up and pop them off while you pop me off."

We sludged out of the mud pit a second time, gathered our outer shorts and shirts and stuck them in Dave's bag with the additional gym clothes. Then we hiked in our mud caked outfits an additional mile further on where there was a shallow pool of clean flowing water where we were able to wash the mud off our bodies and out of our socks, sneakers, tee shirts, as well as my tired neckerchief. After letting the sun cook us for a half hour or so we donned dry gym outfits. Then we went back up into the swamp area again because the pool was only about a mile from civilization and the sound of our popping balloons would have likely been noticed.

I only had four balloons in my scout shorts pocket. To relieve Dave's destructive frustration I gave him a nice red one and watched as he inflated it until the thin rubber skin just could not get any bigger. The balloon disintegrated with a rifle shot BANG. Watching my bare legged boy friend pop it in such a professional manner immediately got my sexual system back in high gear. I was at full staff by the time he had turned the second balloon I handed him into rubber confetti as well.

Dave grinned and said, "Did watching me bust them like that get you excited?"

I handed Dave another balloon and he and I blew the two remaining ones up to a nice squishy size of ten inches or so and tied them off. Dave had me flop on my back on the grass and started stroking the front of my legs and up over my crotch with his balloon. My stem began to ooze as he scrubbed the complaining rubber over my flesh and loose gym shorts. Oh did it feel good.

Suddenly the balloon gave up with a rather tired POOM sound. Without missing a stroke Dave grabbed the balloon I was holding and resumed his work. I was soon ready and I grabbed the waist band of my gym shorts and pulled it down under my sac. Dave stuffed the balloon back into my hands as he clasped my stem and quickly coaxed my juice into erupting in a euphoric squirt that splattered on my tee shirt. WOOOEEEE! Did that feel great. As my body let go I squeezed my fingers into the rubber skin until the balloon in my hands went POOF.

Dave was on his side facing me holding himself up with one arm. He had his upper leg raised allowing the leg of his gym shorts to form a nice loop under his thigh. Although this created loose folds of cotton to form in his crotch area I could see that a tent had formed which meant Dave was also excited from his work on me. Even though I was just beginning to float down I reached up inside the inviting opening and began to stroke him under his shorts.

Dave soon began to moan and he flopped down on his back. I still kept massaging him. The end of his stem was becoming gooey and I was about to retract my hand from the leg of his shorts and pull them down so he had some freedom to explode when I felt his stem pulse and he squirted right into his pants. Oh well. The look of total relaxation on Dave's face indicated it didn't matter to him at all.
I knew I was done for this day and Dave indicated that he was satisfied as well; so we cleaned up, slipped into our outer shorts, and headed home. Two well spent ‘bucks’.
3/2/02 edit.

Caught Wearing Shorts                                                    <Ret to Top>

It was a bright midweek summer afternoon when Dave showed up again without his brother tagging along. He was wearing a scout shirt and neckerchief for my benefit along with the full cut baggy denim shorts his mother had made. I immediately got the feeling he was looking for us to have some private fun together.

Unlike the scout shorts that extended a little more than half way down his thighs that I preferred to see him wear, the blue denim shorts hung about three inches above his knee cap. The combination of his boots with the rolled over scout knee socks that came about half way up the calf of his leg really did set off his solid well formed knees nicely.

When he arrived I was wearing a pair of bright red cotton gym shorts, tee shirt, and canvas sneakers. This was my usual attire when I was working around the house and didn't plan on going anywhere.
Dave had his old single shot 22 rifle with him. This indicated he was at least looking for company down in the woods where he had his trap line. After some small talk he wondered if I might enjoy our pumping a few lead pellets through some of my rubber toys. Needless to say I was more than interested. Popping balloons is always fun. Popping them with a buddy that also likes busting them is far more fun. I was impressed that he was willing to blow what was for him some serious money on 22 shells that were a lot more pricey than BB's for his air gun that we had used for balloon target shooting in the past.

Dave accompanied me up to my bedroom so I could change into something a bit more rugged and acceptable for public display. Actually Dad had rescinded his policy that I could only wear gym shorts in and around the house. In fact he actually encouraged me to wear them for my forays down in the woods, where it wasn't likely others would see me, with the hope that they would quickly get torn and ripped up and thereby reduce my rather extensive collection.

For Dave's benefit I put a scout short sleeve shirt on and was going to don a regular pair of scout shorts over the gym pants when Dave indicated he would rather I wear a pair of the cut down scout shorts that Bob had given me. I dug out a pair and slipped them on and transferred the belt from the regular pair. The hems of the cut down shorts came about one third of the way down my thigh and hung about an inch above the bottom edge of the gym shorts hiding underneath. I finished my dress by grabbing a scout neckerchief and slide and cinching it about my neck.

Dave was impressed at the quantity of balloons I had in my using stash. I gave him several dozen of the twelve inch political balloons that we could use for targets. I pocketed some as well along with a few fourteen inchers and some 560 airships.

As we headed out for our hour long trek down to the well isolated sections of the woods Dave remarked that it stimulated him thinking about how easily a speeding bullet would zip through the thin rubber skin of my balloons. I immediately recalled that the last time we had popped off balloons in a similar manner we were using air powered BB guns. During that occasion on the way home Dave had been more than insistent on discovering how easily the BB pellets would also rip through the skin of my knees as well.
I mentioned my misgivings to Dave, who then replied far too gleefully, "Man I'd really love to shoot a bullet through those sexy shorts you're wearing and those legs of yours. It's fun thinking how easy it would rip through your shorts, zip through your skin, tear through the muscles of your leg, and then bust through your flesh as it came out the far side."

I glared at Dave as I said sternly, "Yah, and think how easy it would be to graduate from prison rather than high school, buddy."

Even I had witnessed on occasion the interaction of a speeding bullet and animal flesh when he used his 22 at close range to finish off hapless woodland critters that got caught in his traps. The skin and meat was no match for a speeding bullet

The idea actually did sex me up just as it had in real life when I allowed Dave to shoot a couple of pellets into my knees earlier had done. I realized the pain of a bullet ripping through my thigh would be far greater, but the knowledge and proof that I was man enough to endure such a trial I felt would be more than sufficient compensation. I would surely treasure the scout shorts with the bullet holes in the leg and the wound might just be far enough down my leg so as to be readily viewed below the hem line of my school gym shorts. Umm, just thinking of all my nice red all American blood from the bullet holes inching it's way down my dirty tanned leg began to get my stem oozing.

Shit I was just born in the wrong place too late. Ten years earlier I could have been fighting the Germans with the British Tommy's in North Africa while wearing their sexy khaki shorts. I'm sure a number of them experienced bullets zipping through their cotton knee pants and ripping through the flesh of their legs. That would be a most honorable wound assuming the slug entered the front of the leg and ripped out the back. I mentioned my thoughts to Dave who was quick to reiterate his willingness to grant me the experience.

Dave assured me that he would not shoot me even though he allowed he would thoroughly enjoy my discomfort and would really like to see what a 22 slug would do to my leg. I felt somewhat at ease but I still made him walk in front of me and lead the way. If I were in front knowing that watching the generously cut legs of my abbreviated shorts flipping on my thighs as I hiked along just might reduce Dave's inhibitions to a dangerously low level and I wasn't taking any chances. I knew following him down into the woods I found it exciting watching his overly full cut heavy denim shorts flopping against his thighs above his knees.

Nicely sweated up and with our knees and legs somewhat dirtied from the low brush we had been plowing through for a good hour we reached one of the small open glens that I used for balloon play. We needed a breather so Dave and I flopped facing each other on the grass with our knees pulled up in front of us. I couldn't help keeping my eyes off Dave's bronzed legs and the inviting caverns formed by the generous hanging loops of his near knee length short pants.

"Like what you see," Dave offered?

"Sure, you have good looking legs and I love your nice baggy long shorts, Dave," I responded.

"Well I really like to see you in those short shorts you got on. They, well, make your legs look really, um, sexy," Dave finally replied. "With those loose baggy gym pants you got on underneath I can just about see your equipment."

"My shorts get you horny, then," I replied. "I guess the balloons don't do very much for you."

Dave thought for a moment and then said, "I like balloons rubbing on me and I sure enjoy blowing them up and busting them. They pop so easy. But they don't really get me all sexed up like they do you. I love to see how excited you get when we are playing with them, especially when I rub them on your legs and bust them for you. Seeing you all steamed up gets me excited as well."

"Well buddy, you do get me sexed up when you play with balloons with me," I replied. "I really enjoy seeing how much fun you have busting them. You really enjoy popping them, that's for sure."

Dave mulled my comment over for a moment and responded, "Then why don't we head over to the dump and pop off a couple at long range with my rifle? It's a safe place to shoot and we can stand back a couple of hundred feet to make it a bit more sporting."

Another thirty minute hike brought us to the really isolated area of the township where the dump was located. The dumping area was along the side of a hill and the built up refuse had formed a plateau that was up to fifty feet wide in places and over four hundred feet long. The additional rise of the hill at the end provided a safe backstop for bullets and any number of people used the dump as a makeshift firing range for that reason.

At this point the sudden realization dawned that were totally exposed out in the open in a location that was frequented by most all of the township residents who drove up in their cars and could come upon us suddenly. We weren't even way far back around the side of the hill where Dad and I had our first major confrontation on the way home after he bought all the old scout shorts and then allowed me to buy all the junk political balloons. I expressed my concern to Dave who surprisingly felt, because we were only plinking with his 22 and just happened to be using balloons as targets, that we wouldn't appear too weird. I guess he felt this was a legitimate reason for two teen aged boys to be playing with toy balloons. However I couldn't think of any rationale for the short pants we were sporting other than the fact it was a hot summer's afternoon. Nonetheless I felt uneasy because boys our age just plain didn't wear shorts except for sports, summer camp, or at the pool, and they certainly wouldn't let themselves get caught wearing them while playing with some silly rubber balloons.

We walked to the far end and began to blow up the twelve inch balloons we each had. We then snapped off the ends of small limbs of the brush that was growing on the hillside and attached the balloons by twisting the necks over the broken off ends the same as if we were tying them to regular balloon sticks.
As I was blowing away I wandered over to where there were a couple of makeshift wooden panels that had been erected to hold paper targets. I took note that the ground in front of one of them was littered with the shriveled sun baked remains of what appeared to be small penny balloons. Obviously someone else also found balloons to be a most inviting target as well.

Dave was only blowing up his balloons to about half rated size and when I called him on this he said they were too easy to hit when they were fully inflated. Besides what is the difference between popping a fully inflated balloon or one that is only partially blown up. I got the ones I blew up to a nice round size. I still had about a half dozen of the small round balloons left along with several of the larger sized rounds and a few of the airships when Dave said we had enough targets. He admitted he was only willing to part with a couple of dozen rounds of ammunition for the purpose of popping balloons. In any case he would have to be sure to save a few bullets in case he had to dispatch any poor animal that might have been snared by one of his traps.

When we were done inflating our targets we hiked back about two hundred and fifty feet toward the front end of the dump. Dave adjusted the elevation on his rifle and chambered a 22 short round. I questioned Dave if the low powered target round would fly that distance with any accuracy. As an answer Dave shouldered his rifle and squeezed off a shot. As if by magic one of my larger balloons suddenly disappeared. Any sound it's pop made, however, was drowned out by the report of the rifle echoing back from the hillside. Dave fired off several more shots at his smaller balloons all of which resulted in balloons suddenly disappearing.

Dave then handed me his weapon and six rounds of ammunition. Six shots later I had busted two of my larger balloons and I mentally conceded that Dave was a much better shot. Dave then proceeded to shoot off a dozen or so rounds and wiped out all but two of my big balloons, which he hadn't been shooting at, and three of the smaller ones. He only had a couple of rounds left and because he might need them to finish off any animals that we might find in his traps Dave indicated the shooting gallery was closed. I found the whole experience of using his 22 to pop off balloons far less stimulating then when we had busted a hundred or more with our air guns. Then at least you could hear them bust as well as see them pop.

We headed back to the surviving balloons and pulled them of the branches. Because the necks were only looped over the broken off ends they could be readily deflated and re-used. Dave pulled the first one of his partially inflated balloons off the branch it was tied to and with the neck clamped shut in his fingers simply pressed the soft rubber orb into the sharp broken off end of the branch. The balloon made a soft tired POOF sound as the branch pressed inward and finally punctured the rubber skin.

"Hay Dave," I cried out. "Save them. We can have a lot more fun with them than that later."

Dave gave me a "whatever, I thought the idea was to bust off your balloons look" and then obligingly pocketed the other two after allowing the air to escape as I did with the two larger ones I salvaged.

Other than the fields around the old barn or the often wet marshy open bog areas, the dump provided the only other sufficiently large isolated open area to sail my airship balloons. I told Dave to park his rifle against one of the target boards and indicated I had some balloon play in mind for us.

As we walked away into the open area I put aside my fear of being discovered playing with balloons and pulled two of the airship balloons out of my pocket and handed one to Dave. I set to work inflating the one I had but Dave had another use for his. He stretched it back out to about four feet in length between his two hands and proceeded to try to sting the large inviting bare area of my thighs with it by trying to get his one hand near my leg while releasing the far end. His initial efforts missed the mark and resulted I think in his getting his fingers swatted. Finally on the forth try he hit home and he caught the side of my thigh just below the hem of my shorts. It stung really good for a minute or so and generated a nice red mark.

I had managed to get my airship balloon fully inflated about the time he stung me. I steadied it in a vertical position and released the neck. It lifted skyward almost straight up just like a rocket should. The balloon climbed upward until the last of it's air was exhausted. Then the collapsed rubber ribbon fluttered back to earth where I was able to snag it before it hit the ground.

Dave was impressed by my rubber rocket's brief flight and he immediately set to work getting his balloon inflated. I told him he had to start the inflation from the far end, otherwise the balloon might pop before it was fully blown up all the way. This was especially true for subsequent inflation's because the rubber is thinner and not as strong at the neck end of long tubular shaped balloons and gets rather soft and weak from fatigue after multiple inflation's.

Dave waited until I had my balloon blown up a second time and we sent them skyward together. Dave's went higher than mine even though it exhausted it's air sooner. This was because with the second inflation my balloon was bigger and the elasticity of the rubber did not generate as much pressure as when the balloon was blown up the first time.

We recovered our rubber toys and began blowing them up again. This time Dave did not adhere to my caution that the inflation had to start from the far end. I took my time blowing mine up as I focused my attention on the bulging neck end of Dave's balloon as he worked on trying to get the last inch or so at the far end of his balloon to blow up. Dave loved to blow balloons up until they popped and I think he was really planning on finishing off his toy in this manner rather than letting it sail again because it did appear that he got the far end fully up but he still kept pumping in additional breaths of air.

POW! There was the sharp snap of suddenly ripped rubber and Dave was left standing there with the short stump of the neck between his lips. The remainder of his balloon shot away from his face, did a couple of lazy flips in the air, and fell in a crumpled puddle of rubber about fifteen feet away. I had my balloon almost fully inflated as Dave walked over to retrieve his busted toy.

Suddenly there was the roaring sound of a vehicle being driven rapidly up the hill to the dumping area. The roadway leading to the dump and the surface of the dump itself was rutted and most people who drove up in cars took it slow and easy to minimize tire cuts and possible damage to the underside of their vehicles. My first impulse was to try and flee, but that would have been useless because there was no cover for a good hundred and fifty feet or so. Dave turned and looked back over his shoulder as he leaned over and picked up the limp rubber strip that had been his balloon. I spun around to face our unexpected visitor.

Normally people would pull into the current active dumping area about an additional hundred and fifty feet toward the entrance of the dump from where we were standing, and then back their cars up to the edge and just toss their junk and garbage over the side. This guy came racing up at full speed right to where we were standing. I thought for a moment he wanted to run us over. At the last second as I was about to jump out of the way he slammed on the brakes and brought his WW2 surplus Jeep to a sliding halt about ten feet from me.

The guy was big and muscular and was wearing a khaki short sleeved military style shirt and a broad brimmed cloth military hat with the brim on the left side snapped up. I momentarily wondered if he had his rifle with him. At least he was ready to carry it about on his shoulder if he had. A leather strap under his chin kept the hat in place because the Jeep had no top and with his height the guy's head was nearly as high as the top of the windshield

"'Ow what 'ave got here now," he said with a decidedly sarcastic British twang? "I first 'ave thought you were girls when I first saw you what with those short pants an' playin with balloons to boot. Now I come to see it's two big boys tryin' to look like girls. If I say so myself you both got yourselves nice pretty legs. Now I'm thinkin' what are two grown up boys wearing short pants doing playing with silly 'ol balloons up here on this smelly dump anyway?"

I could feel the rush of embarrassment along with the annoyance of his snide comments flood my body as I stood there rather foolishly holding my nearly inflated airship balloon. I told him we were shooting at some round balloons and the long tubular ones like I was holding we were shooting up into the air to see how high we could get them to go. The guy gave me a disgusted I don't believe it look.

Dave was standing further away behind me and had picked up the large rectangular sheet of rubber that had been his balloon. He draped over his right hand and started walking up to me with it. The guy pointed at Dave and demanded, "What's that. You got a balloon too?"

Dave immediately piped up, "Naw, I blew this one up too big and it busted."

Then the guy turned his attention to me as he gruffly said, "And just what are you going to do with your balloon? Bring it over here and let me take a look at it."

I immediately sensed that the rubber toy in my hands was never going to soar skyward again. I was quite sure in fact that it was only a few seconds away from becoming another piece of torn rubber like Dave was holding. Per his command I obediently walked from where I was standing in front of the Jeep around to the driver's side. As I did so I was looking at the ground, avoiding eye contact, when my jaw dropped as I stopped dead in my tracks. With no actual doors on the Jeep I suddenly was able to see that the guy was sporting longish khaki shorts, khaki knee stockings long enough to afford a wide at least double rollover below his knees, and mid calf style dirty brown military style boots. The guy immediately said in a harsh tone of voice, "What are you staring at boy? I told you to come here with the damn balloon."

Dave quickly trotted over to see what had so suddenly caught my attention. Not being overly inhibited in voicing his thoughts Dave piped up, "Gee he's wearing shorts too."

The guy quickly turned his attention to Dave as he growled, "I sure am boy; he man shorts like you. Not the little boy sexy fuck me shorts like your buddy here."

I could feel the blood rush to my face. I had a sudden hatred for the guy. I stood my ground as he pivoted in his seat and dropped his firm kneed well muscled legs over the side down to the ground. He was still half sitting on the seat of the Jeep causing the full cut legs of his shorts that stopped about four inches above his knees to hang back against the edge of the Jeep floor. Just looking at him caused my dick to roar into life. He just had to be wearing a WW2 British tropical uniform or a damn close replica. A firm 'come here' wave of his right hand broke my reverie and as I reluctantly took another few steps toward him I said, "This balloon needs a few more breaths of air to be full."

I added three more good blows and then, holding the balloon in the upright launch position, I presented it to him. Rather than grabbing for it he suddenly said, "You can get it bigger than that, boy,"

"No. It's been blown up a couple of times before and it will bust if I put any more air in," I replied in a matter of fact tone.

The guy gave me a disgusted look and appeared to grab for it but instead as I held it out he apparently pinched the rubber between the nails of his thumb and forefinger near the neck where I was holding it shut to keep the air in. Suddenly POOM! I was left holding a short stub of the neck as the remainder of the balloon shot upward and behind me and then fluttered towards the ground just as Dave's had done a couple of minutes earlier. Dave who was standing behind me was already positioned to stick out his hand and snare the long rubber sheet before it hit the ground. He deftly transferred this additional torn rubber to his left hand where he was already holding the remains of his busted balloon.

The guy took note of Dave's maneuver and said sarcastically, "Tell me now boy, balloons turn you on so much you even play with the buggers when they're busted?"

I turned around toward Dave who looked mortified by the guy's comment so I came to his rescue and grabbed the remains of the two busted airship balloons from his hand.

"Yes I do. This kind at least," I shot back as I slipped one into my pocket and proceeded to tie the other about my forehead. The guy had a smirk on his face as he intently watched as I tied the ends together behind my head.

After a pause the guy shook his head as he said, "Our sexy little boy here likes to dress up in rubber, does he? You really think it makes you look cuter and sexier. You know you are too damn old to be playing with balloons to start with and wearing them is something only a little kid would think of doing."

My greatest desire at this point was to get away from this guy and get the hell out of there. Although he hadn't been as verbally attacked I sensed from Dave's expression he wanted to escape from our embarrassing situation as well. I started to walk away and Dave turned to follow. Before I had taken two steps the guy roared, "An where do you think you're going children? I want to see what big boys that wear short pants do with their little boy toy balloons. I know you have more. Blow some up for me. I'll bet it will make sexy shorts boy here look even cuter. Come over here and stand in front of me. I want to watch your balloon blowin' up close."

Out of total fear Dave and I dutifully walked over and stood about five feet in front of the guy. Dave whipped out a twelve inch round balloon which were the only ones he had. I grabbed a handful from my pocket and selected a fourteen incher that I knew would get noticeably bigger than Dave's. I don't know why I gave a damn about impressing this wise mouth guy. We immediately set to work huffing and puffing away.

Dave had his balloon over inflated to a nice pear shape by the time mine was still in the round stage. When Dave's balloon was as big as it was going to get he stopped and held the neck shut between his fingers awaiting the guy's next command. I had little doubt Dave was hoping to get an opportunity to exhibit his fearless and most impressive inflate to burst prowess. His wish was immediately granted as the guy pointed at Dave's balloon and said, "Now I'll bet you can get that little ole balloon bigger than that, boy."

That was all Dave needed to hear. He was all grins as he jammed the neck back between his lips and forced in another two good blasts of air. That was enough to finish off his toy as it suddenly evaporated with a sharp loud report that echoed off the hill nearby. A chunk of torn rubber spaghetti landed near the guy's foot and he glanced down at the remains. Then he looked up and turned his attention to me as Dave, realizing he had an appreciative balloon busting audience, immediately started blowing up a second balloon.

It was obvious the guy wanted to check out our balloon busting fearlessness, so I just kept forcing in breath after breath of air. My larger yellow balloon pear shaped at about sixteen inches in diameter. I had a notion to step closer to him as I forced the final destructive blasts of air into my rubber bag, but I thought my effrontery might piss the bozo off and that could lead to physical unpleasantness for me.
I was surprised that it took two more breaths to shred my balloon as Dave's had done. The guy seemed at least pleased with my effort.

"Yes you do look cute in your little shorts there boy when you blow up a balloon and bust it like that," the guy commented. "I like to see little boys that aren't afraid of a hunk of inflated rubber like some are."

I couldn't resist the chance to zap the guy back with, "Yah, and we are not afraid to wear shorts and get our legs and knees skinned up either like most boys are. If you think we are silly 'cause we are wearing shorts than how come you got your knees out?"

He glared at me and I thought I was in for it. Then he suddenly broke into a smile as he said, "I've just been funning with you boys. I can see by your tanned and banged up legs that you have been wearing shorts for some while. You are the first boys anywhere near your age that I have seen round these parts that have had the guts to show off their bare knees in public."

The guy paused to let his praise set in. Then he pointed at Dave who was holding his partially inflated balloon in front of him and said, "Now this playin' with silly balloons thing is something else. Little boys play with rubber balloons not big boys. Bring that hunk of rubber over here and let me get rid of it for you"

Then he pointed at me as he continued, "Now big boys your age, especially when they are wearing sexy shorts like you here got on here, should be playing with, ah, um, each other."

Oops. How could the guy know as I stood there looking at his magnificent legs set off by his tropical military uniform how big and hard my stem had become. Hopefully I wasn't bulging in the front in too obvious a fashion. I suddenly wondered if his bare knees were solely the result of a need for freedom of movement and cool comfort in warm weather, or like me, the guy had overriding sexual requirements that exposing his knees to the wind satisfied.

Dave held out the balloon he was holding to the guy who promptly pinched it with his nails causing it to go POOF and just split open from the far end to the neck. Then addressing both of us he stated, "Boys you age don't play with balloons. Now empty out your pockets and I'll show you how to get rid of all the rest that you have in a hurry so as no one else will catch you looking like silly sissies.

I wasn't about to watch the couple of dozen balloons we had left between us get destroyed just to give this bozo his jollies. So I pulled a round balloon out of my pocket and held it up as I said, "Look we really weren't playing with these balloons we were shooting at them with Dave's 22 rifle. Besides balloons are fun to blow up and bust no matter how old you are. You seemed to enjoy watching us pop a couple just now. Here, now let's see you blow this one up until it busts. Try it, you'll like it."

The guy had an annoyed look as he grabbed the balloon from my hand and with the balloon pinched between the thumb and forefinger of each of his hands pulled the hapless toy out to a good sixteen inches or more. I was sure he was just going to rip the neck right off it. Then he released the far end and the balloon snapped back into his other had with a sharp crack. With a sweep of his hand he had the neck to his lips and a moment later was filling it with massive blasts of air from his barrel chest lungs. He was glaring at me intently as he quickly stretched the rubber skin to the limit. My dick was oozing at the realization of the hopelessness of the thin rubber bag fighting this guy's massive lungs. It was no contest. The balloon burst with a sharp rifle crack sending slivers and small sheets of rubber flying away from his face.

I pointed at the guy as I said, "See, that's what big boys do with balloons. Now busting that balloon like that was fun; now admit it."

"Yah, I suppose so," he reluctantly agreed.

Then he broke into a smile as he added, "But you can get rid of them a lot easier and quicker than this and I'd be happy to show you how. You know boys, real men get their jollies from playing with other things like, a, well, women. Some blokes, especially those that wear sexy shorts like you got on, well now they sometimes like to play with each other. We wouldn't have that here now would we?"

Notwithstanding the truth in his statement, it embarrassed and annoyed me. When my anger passed I said firmly. "I think we'll pass on your offer. Me and Dave like blowing them up and hearing them pop when they go. That's what balloons are made for."

The guy thought things over for a moment and then he said, "You can call me John. Tell you what, I'll take you boys on over to my house for a while and you can show me just what all you do with balloons to have fun. Then I can show you boys some things to do that we can all have a wee bit of fun together. What do you say mates?"

Oh oh, big time danger. I had little doubt that seeing Dave and me wearing shorts had him sexually aroused and I had little doubt that his term "fun" equated to sexual play. And this big brute of a guy had the potential to play a lot rougher than my friend Bob who had managed to intimidate me in real life with his sexual advances.

Dave had left his rifle leaning against one of the target boards at the foot of the hill when we moved out into the open flat area to play with the airship balloons. I pointed this out to the guy and Dave and I turned to head over to get Dave's gun. I was surprised when the guy said, "Fine. Go get your pea shooter and if you want me to show you some big boy games come on back over here. I'm going to back up to the edge and dump my garbage, meantime."

Dave and I quickly hustled over to the hill at the end of the dumping area while the guy revved the Jeep full speed backward over to the edge where he could easily toss his garbage over the side. As we approached the target board Dave said breathlessly, "Let's make a run for it up the hill. He won't be able to follow us in his Jeep, it's too steep with all the heavy brush and everything."

As we quickly walked over to where Dave's gun was I thought about John's offer. It caused me to think, based on the fact that my now gooey stem was still rather well inflated as a result of watching his highly professional destruction of my balloon moments before, potential danger aside, getting to know John might well provide some real stimulation regarding my short pants and balloon fetish enjoyment.
As Dave grabbed his gun and was ready to race up the hill I grabbed his arm and said, "Hold on. I don't think John want's to hurt us any. Besides, this is only a fantasy story and if bad things happen they are not for real anyway.

Dave gave me a funny look and replied, "Yeah, I guess you are right. I think, like you, he really likes busting balloons. All right, let's take a chance and go have some fun with him."

We headed back toward where John had his Jeep parked at the edge of the dump. As he finished sticking the empty containers in the back and turned to get in the Jeep he spotted us heading toward him. He gunned the engine and again came shooting over to us. As with our first meeting he jammed on the brakes at the last moment and brought his vehicle to a sliding stop right along side of us. I suddenly realized that the real danger in our being involved with John was going to be getting to his house alive.

John was all smiles. I think he really thought we would take advantage of our separation and make a break for it. Over the noise of the engine he indicated he wanted Dave in the back seat and me in the front next to him. This didn't surprise me. I suspected that he might want to get to know a little better the added expanse of bare legs created by the cut down scout shorts I was wearing. As soon as we were inside the Jeep he took off bouncing us over the uneven surface of the dump. With no seat belts and no doors I was hoping I could stay inside and not get dumped out on my ass at the thirty five miles per hour we must have been traveling. Hitting the ash, gravel, and broken glass that constituted the surface of the dump at that speed would really do a number on more than just my exposed flesh.

John lost no time in confirming my suspicions. As soon as we left the dump and turned onto the narrow township road his massive paw clamped on the knee of my left leg. His muscular long fingers dug into the flesh on either side of my leg as he slowly worked his hand up my leg. His fingers digging into my leg muscles was damn uncomfortable, in fact it hurt like hell, but at the same time it was a sensuously sexy feeling. When he reached the hem of my shorts he began fingering the ample fold of loose cotton and quickly discovered the baggy gym shorts hiding beneath. Then he pushed the hems of my shorts up until his fingers started tickling my sack. It was only a matter of moments before he withdrew his hand from the leg of my shorts and ran his fingers ever so lightly up over the fly area giving my tool a most sensuous feel. My rock hard stem was what he found. Although I didn't turn to look, I was certain Dave was taking in every aspect of John's touchy feely actions.

John used a circuitous route to get to his abode. As I figured it would be, it was well isolated from any of his neighbors. John could have his fun relatively unobserved. I don't know why he didn't realize that Dave and I wouldn't recognize the locale relative to where we lived in the township. It was in fact only about three miles from our houses on the far side of the bog area. We could walk it in little over an hour and a half through the woods.

John's place was pretty run down; not much more than a large shack. As I had assumed, John lived to himself. He invited us in and immediately pulled three Schmidt's beers from his ancient Kelvanator fridge. I wasn't into alcohol consumption, but I was hot and sweaty, the beer was icy cold, and I had little doubt that my manhood would really be called into question if I had asked for water or a coke instead.
John was on one side of his kitchen table with Dave and me on the other. To relax the tension somewhat I took the liberty of introducing Dave and myself. As we downed our brew he grilled us extensively regarding how long we had been wearing shorts, did we really like to wear them or had they been forced on us, what did we enjoy about wearing shorts etc. All but the real question I felt he really wanted to ask; did wearing shorts or seeing him in short pants sex us up.

During the course of our interrogation blabber mouth Dave had to tell him my fantasy of wearing military shorts like John was wearing and getting shot in the leg just to add a bullet wound to the already existing trials of pain my legs and knees had already endured. John laughed and agreed with Dave that watching a bullet rip through my tender flesh would be a really stimulating sight. Then he hinted that he had some abusive ideas of his own that involved wearing shorts like I had on that would test my boyish manhood with far less risk of major lasting injury.

With our beers consumed and the generalized small talk running out of topics I asked John point blank what he found sexually stimulating about Dave's and my attire. John was visibly displeased that I had suddenly taken control of the conversation. He put aside his momentary anger, however, and came right to the point. "As a kid in England before the war I had to wear shorts year round. When I got to be near your age I hated wearing little boy pants but my parents insisted I wear shorts all through my school years. There were a few other older boys that had to wear shorts as well. Then we discovered we really enjoyed wearing them and seeing each other in them so we began wearing our shorts for play and socializing. Soon the inviting leg openings got us into playing with each other, you know, the hands on thing. From that point on I began to enjoy shorts myself and especially seeing other boys wearing them."

After a pause John continued, "I couldn't believe my eyes when I spotted you two blokes sporting bare legs. Few if any boys near your age have guts enough to wear shorts around these parts. Dave here with his long baggy shorts is dressed fine for work and hiking about in the brush. They show off his good looking knees that he isn't afraid to get dirty. Now those short shorts you have on are down right sexy. They show off your nice strong legs and the short loose leg openings are just ever so inviting for a quick feel. What do you think, Dave?"

Dave grinned as he said, "I agree. I like to see him wearing his short shorts an' showing off those nice sexy legs."

"Did you ever give him a quick feel," John wanted to know.

Dave had walked right into that one. He blushed and quickly shifted his gaze off to the side toward the floor as he blurted out, "Ah, not really," Dave lied, "I just like to look."

"Oh come on now, Dave," I chided, "You have explored up my pant legs a number of times. Felt really good too and it got you all excited as well, I know."

"Ah, so you boys have discovered the pleasures of each other's bodies," John exclaimed. "Ho ho, I never would 'eve guessed, Why else would two older boys like you be wearing shorts and putting up with the guff from your other buddies if you didn't find them sexually exciting. I'll bet you even find those rubber toys you have in your pockets sexually exciting as well. Am I right?"

Dave sensed his chance to get back at me as he pointed in my direction and said, "Him, not me. He can juice himself off just playin' with and rubbing balloons on himself."

John jumped in before I could respond and shot back, "Ah, so you are a big boy, eh? You don't find rubbing balloons on your bare legs and over your balls and willy at all stimulating, Dave?"

John turned his attention to me as he ordered, "Blow up a couple of those balloons you got in your pocket and show me what kind of fun you have with them. Maybe we can show your mate Dave here a trick or two."

I pulled out one of the larger round balloons I had left and indicated to Dave that he should lend his breath and blow up the few he still had as well. Dave pulled out one of the balloons we had blown up as targets and we both earnestly set to work expanding our rubber spheres. I assumed that John was thinking along the lines of balloon rubbing as the play mode for our toys, so I made a point of inflating my balloon until it had a good neck on it. Then I released some of the air to bring it down to a more roundish durable shape before tying the neck off.

Dave's idea was to get his balloon as big as possible, and since it had been previously inflated he got it to a good fourteen inches or so. He pulled it from his lips, gave John a wicked grin, stuck the neck back in his mouth, and proceeded to force more air into it. John, however as I suspected, wanted us to actually have some fun with the balloons, not just bust them, so he immediately ordered Dave to stop and let some of the air out.

I could see the gears turning in Dave's brain as he realized John probably wanted relatively soft squishy balloons most likely for us to rub on each other's more sensitive parts and he didn't relish the thought of quickly generating a hard on or possibly publicly shooting his load in front of John in particular as the result of a balloon rub. As for me, getting stimulated by having balloons being rubbed on me was a fun way to shoot my load. I was actually getting myself well worked up as I blew up my balloon in anticipation of John making Dave scrub the rubber toys on my legs and sensitive areas.

John grabbed the first balloon I had inflated while I was working on a second. He scrubbed the palms of his hands over the rubber skin causing the balloon to shriek in protest. He tortured the toy all the while I was blowing up the second balloon. When I had it tied off John suddenly demanded that I put my left foot up on the chair next to him. With his right hand he firmly grabbed the top of my thigh and with the balloon in his left hand he proceeded to squash it down on my up thrust knee. The balloon squeaked and squealed as the rubber slid and stretched over my kneecap. Partially inflated as it was, the balloon was able to flatten out over my entire knee leg area, and as such was capable of sustaining a considerable force. Since he was seated off to the side of me with his arm fairly well extended John could not apply enough pressure down on my knee to bust it so he was limited to twisting his hand and rolling it about on my leg. Finally after a minute or so he muttered, "Tough bugger, ain't it?"

With that he pinched the rubber skin between the nails of his forefinger and thumb and the balloon popped with a satisfying BOOM. John lost no time in performing an "inflation check" of my cock. "Ah ha, I see that rubbing the balloon on your knee feel good?" he quipped.

I didn't say anything as I handed John the balloon I had just finished blowing up. I was stimulated but a long way form any possible orgasm. I was far too uptight being in John's dominating presence. In fact I didn't think when it got to that point I would be able to "perform" for him.

I had thought that John would just pop the second balloon on my up thrust knee, but instead he demanded that I remove my abbreviated scout shorts. He watched my every move as I undid the belt and fly buttons, dropped them to the floor, and then stepped out of them. As I picked my shorts up he reached for them with his free hand and fondled the soft olive dab cotton that had so recently adorned my loins. His eyes were riveted on the green thin cotton gym shorts that felt noticeably damp in the front and not just from perspiration either.

Finally after a good minute of staring at my prominent frontal bulge, John tossed my shorts on the table and lunged towards me grabbing the hem of my gym shorts and pulling me towards himself. Fortunately I was able to respond quickly enough to prevent the well worn cotton PE shorts from ripping as they tended to easily do when abused in this manner. John squashed the balloon he still had in his other hand into my crotch area and started to rub it about as he had the other one on my knee. The hand he used to yank me over circled around behind to my lower ass cheeks to counter the pressure that was being applied frontally.

The damp gym shorts caused the rubber to really squeal but my dick was only really getting side to side pressure. It felt good. Really really good, but it was certainly going to take a lot more stimulation than this to get me over the top. After another minute or so John came to the same conclusion and a few hard crushing rubs later the balloon burst with a POOM.

John quickly stepped to the side in front of me and dropped to his knees. With a quick flip he had the waist band on my gym shorts yanked down causing my freed stem to pop up and give him a right smart salute. In a moment his fingers encircled my joy stick and began rhythmically began to coax my boy juice out of me. Meanwhile his thumb rubbed the oozing fluid over the sensitive tip of my stem.

Meanwhile Dave had been just standing there holding the balloons he had blown up taking this all in. Out of the corner of my eye I saw John motion for Dave to come over. Sensing what John wanted, and even possibly my need, Dave dropped to his knees along side John and proceeded to rub the balloons he was holding gently on my legs. Oh oh oh, did it ever feel good. I felt that I was really going to make it when suddenly John shifted my joy stick from his hand to his mouth. His lips and tongue just coaxed the boy juice out of me. With the added stimulus Dave was providing there was no way I could have possibly held back. With a mighty thrust I blasted my load into John's waiting jowls. He swallowed my load without hesitation and without interrupting the massaging action of his lips that continued to coax wave after wave of euphoria to flow throughout my being. WOW! What a trip.

Dave stopped rubbing me with his balloons and rose to his feet when I shot my initial load. John maintained his lip lock on my throbbing stem until I was totally finished and ready to float down. It was all so unexpected and so sudden. Man, I thought. I had popped off in under two minutes from a state of fear and anxiety. That was a record in itself even from a relaxed condition.

John got up off his knees and left the room momentarily, returning with a partial roll of toilet paper that I was to use to clean the residual goo off my body. I pulled the front of my gym pants up over my semi collapsed stem and grabbed my scout shorts off the table. As I was about to step into them John indicated that my gym shorts / underpants were on the dampish side and I should just leave them there and go home without. As I slid them off and hiked up my nearly as abbreviated scout shorts i had no doubt that John had some plans for my smelly under garment.

Having more than satisfied me, John turned his attention to Dave who was just standing there holding a balloon in each of his hands. After looking Dave over for a moment he said, "Your mate here has just had himself some real fun. Are you ready to give it a go?"

Dave stared at the floor as he nervously replied, "I ah, don't think so."

John roared, "What! You telling me you don't like to shoot your load like a man? Like your buddy here did? Give you a little balloon rubbing to get your engine revved up. Or don't playing with these rubber little boys toys do anything for you like they sure do with your buddy here."

"No. Balloons don't get me all excited like him," Dave mumbled.

"I wouldn't bet none on that," John retorted. "Let's give it a go."

Dave shook his head and said nothing as he continued to stare at the floor off to his side. Big John didn't seem to be impressed by his half hearted denial as he added, "The next time you boys swing by when I have more time to deal with your immature sexual toys we can just all see if that is the case, Dave. Be sure you bring a big bag of balloons with you and I'll show you how to get rid of them nice and easy."

John indicated he wanted Dave's balloons as a souvenir of our visit and Dave was more than glad to hand them over. As we took our leave I suddenly got the feeling that John not only liked wearing macho he-man shorts but also enjoyed them the way I did. I also suspected he was familiar with the sensuous feel of inflated balloons and rubber on his legs and private parts as well. I had a premonition that the three of us were in for some stimulating fantasy fun in the future. Post 6/02

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