Balloon Factory Pt. 03: Dorothy’s S

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Quitting time! Dorothy briefly contemplated letting the air out of the balloon in front of her, but decided to be a good employee and give the company an extra twenty seconds of her time. Besides, she had a vested interest. She squeezed the trigger on her air gun and the balloon grew at an alarming rate, squealing in protest as the neck grew and bulged. She stopped just in time, spinning the big orange polka-dotted balloon before the big inspection light. It looked fine, as she expected; the Big Party 18s rarely showed any defects. She went to pick up her earplugs, then took a quick look around for any supervisors. She didn’t see any, of course. Weren’t they always the first to leave on a Friday afternoon? She left the earplugs sitting on the table, squeezed the trigger hard, and BLAM!! She blew the pretty orange balloon to bits.

“Night, Linda,” Dorothy said as she walked past one of the inspection booths. Linda was huffing and puffing, blowing what looked like a 24″ balloon until it was near bursting. Linda was a legend at Fun Tyme, though why she insisted on blowing up each and every balloon by mouth was a mystery to Dorothy. She didn’t mind blowing up balloons herself; in fact, she enjoyed it quite a bit more than she would ever want to let on. And on those all-too-frequent days when the compressor was broken, she had to blow them by mouth. But every balloon, every day? Goodness, no! She didn’t know how Linda did it.

“Got any hot plans this weekend, Dot?” It was Billy, one of the maintenance workers.

“Nothing that concerns you, Billy,” she said.

“Well, how about you let me become your concern?” He gave her a lecherous wink.

“Keep dreaming, sweetheart,” she said as she punched her time card. She knew what he was thinking; she knew what they all thought about her. If only they knew the *real* truth… and then she looked at her watch, and realized she’d better hurry.

An hour and a half later, Dorothy was flat on her back, her legs spread wide, a balloon in her mouth and a cock in her pussy. The balloon was a pretty big one, a Qualatex 24 (such sessions were always a good chance to evaluate the competition), and Dorothy had blown it to about 2/3rds of its rated size. The cock was a small one, which Dorothy had already blown to its rated size. It belonged to an elected official who worked for the city. Though the man didn’t realize it, Dorothy knew his real name, though she had no intention of revealing it; the fact that he would consider discovery of their relationship a major risk gave her all the reassurance she needed.

Surrounding them on the pillow were the shards of two other Q24s that Dorothy had already blown to bursting. The little man was in fine form this evening; it was rare he made it past the second balloon, but now here he was, pumping away like a piston engine, and keeping up a constant stream of chatter.

“Bigger, baby!” he panted as he frantically pounded her pussy. “Keep blowing it, sexy! Blow it bigger!”

Dorothy blew a big breath into the balloon, and said, “Like that?”

“Yeah, baby, just like that! Blow, baby! Blow that balloon!”

She blew another big, deep lung-full into the balloon. “You want me to pop it, don’t you?” She blew again; he liked her to talk while she blew up güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri the balloons. “Should I blow it to bursting like I did those other balloons?”

“Oh, yeah, baby! Blow it to bits!” said the sweaty man. “Oh, God, baby, I’m getting so close!”

“So is this balloon, sweetie!” She blew as hard as she could, puffing out her cheeks, making them big and round, just the way he liked. And, though she would never say it, just the way she liked, too.

“You want me to pop it, sweetheart?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah!” yelled the man, humping away. “Pop it, baby! Blow it until it bursts!”

She blew again. “I’m going to pop it for you, baby…”

“Yeah! Yeah! Blow that fucking balloon till it fucking bursts!”

Dorothy blew, long and strong and hard.

“Bigger, baby! Pop that fucker!”

“I will, baby, I’m going to blow this fucking balloon to smithereens…”

Dorothy blew. The balloon tightened.

“Here it goes, baby…” she said, taking a deep breath.

“Yes! Oh, fucking God! Bust it! Bust that fucking balloon!”

Dorothy blew again, and she felt the balloon resist. “I don’t think it can take any more, but I’m going to blow it again…”

She took another deep breath and blew, and as if on cue, the balloon exploded with an ear-shattering BAM!!

“Oooooooh!” she moaned. “Oh, God! Oooooh, my fucking God!” The man always assumed Dorothy was faking orgasm when she blew her balloons to bursting. If only he knew… this was the real thing.

“Oh, yeah!” the man shouted. “You popped it! You popped that fucking balloon while I fucked you!”

“You’re goddamned right, sweetie, I blew that balloon until it fucking burst! I blew to popping just for you, baby, and I’ll fucking blow a hundred more if it takes that long to make you fucking cum!”

“OH, GOD!” yelled the man, and as his body tightened, she felt his cock start to spasm inside her.

“Oh, baby!” she moaned, and came again.

A few minutes later, she was walking out to her car, $500 and four orgasms richer. Not bad for a half hour’s work.

Saturday, 2:00 pm. Dorothy was perched on a stool in the middle of the room. A black leather bustier squeezed her breasts tightly, causing them to spill out over the top. It made blowing the oversized balloon harder, and frankly she found it rather uncomfortable, but for what this man was paying, a little discomfort was no big deal. And as for the hotel, that had taken a lot of legwork. Not many places had ceilings high enough to blow a balloon this big to its rated size, let alone ones that would put them in a room far enough away from other guests so that no one would be disturbed. She liked this particular hotel because the front desk was staffed mostly by women who took cash under the table. Most places employed men, some of whom wanted something a little more personal.

“Mr. Anderson,” she said in a small, pleading voice, “Please, can’t I just take a little rest?”

“Blow,” said the little man in the shirt and tie.

She took a deep, quivering breath, filling her lungs as much as the bustier would let her, then put the nozzle to her lips. It was too big to fit in her mouth, so instead she bunched it into her fist and held it to her güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri lips, then blew long and hard.

“It’s just that I’ve been blowing for so long, and look, it’s already so big…”

The balloon was a Fun Tyme Skymaster 72 in a bright shade of blue. Had Dorothy stood up, the balloon would have been an inch taller than her, which meant it would grow another 6″ before it reached its six-foot rated size. And as Dorothy well knew, she would have to blow it quite a bit bigger than that before it finally burst.

“Shut up and BLOW, you bitch!” he roared. Dorothy whimpered, took another deep breath, and blew. She blew again, and again, and again.. She kept blowing, fast and hard, for another five minutes. The balloon didn’t seem to grow appreciably bigger.

“Please, Mr. Anderson, please let me stop, I promise I’ll blow up as many small balloons as you want, but this one is so big, I just can’t…”

They both knew, of course, that she could. This was Mr. Anderson’s favorite scenario, and they had played it out several times. Mr. Anderson worked as a customer service phone representative for a company that imported cheap Chinese tools. All day long, he was yelled at by people he didn’t even know and bossed around by a bunch of jerks. So this was how he spent his money: He hired poor little defenseless Dot, who he liked to pretend had never so much as blown out a candle before they met, and he bossed her around and yelled at her. Specifically, he made her blow and bust the biggest balloons he could buy. Sometimes he bought a six pack of 36″ balloons, and demanded she blow them to destruction one after the other. Once he brought a 50-pack of 17″ balloons, and while it was thrilling to watch her blow every one to shards (and even more thrilling to hear her say that she just couldn’t go on and beg him to let her stop), that one did get a bit expensive, since Dot charged by the hour. But he didn’t mind. There was a sales contest coming up next month, and the prize money would cover the cost of an eight-foot Cloudbuster and enough of Dot’s time for her to blow it until it exploded.

“You can,” he said, “and you fucking WILL.”

“Please, Mr. Anderson,” she moaned, “Please, I just can’t blow any more. Isn’t this big enough? Can’t I be done?”

Mr. Anderson now stood very, very close, and she could feel his substantial hard-on pressing against her thigh. He spoke in her ear, his tone low and dangerous.

“You’ll be DONE,” he said, “when that fucking balloon is in SHREDS and I’ve blown MY fucking load all over your nice soft tits.” He grabbed one of them now, and none too gently.

Dorothy moaned. To Mr. Anderson, it sounded fearful. Only Dorothy knew it contained an element of genuine pleasure.

“Of course, if you need a little more incentive…” Mr. Anderson unbuckled his pants, his hard-on standing as erect as a US Marine. He stood behind her and pushed the head of his cock against her. Not where he thought of as The Good Place, but what he thought of as The Dirty Place. It was already slick with lube, as was the condom he was wearing.

“Okay, Mr. Anderson,” she said quickly, and emptied a big breath into the balloon. “I’ll blow, I’ll blow it as big as you want, I promise, please, Mr. güvenilir bahis şirketleri Anderson!”

But, of course, she wouldn’t blow fast enough. She never did. But the balloon would eventually burst, and so would Mr. Anderson; not all over her nice, soft tits, not even on her pretty face, but deep inside The Dirty Place.

Truth be told, that was just fine with Dorothy. It was more than fine. It was a huge fucking turn on. But she would never tell him that. She would just blow his balloons and take his money, and if she got a nice hard assfucking on top of that, well, that was just a bonus.

Dorothy could hear the afternoon crowds leaving the church next door as she blew a big fat neck into the red balloon, tied off what little uninflated rubber was left, and tossed it on the floor with the others. If the church was emptying out, that meant it was 3:00, and he would be here any minute. She was nearly done with her second bag of fifty balloons. Three had popped as she blew them up. She would have to have a word with the girls in quality control on the Big Bright 16″ line.

There was a knock at the door, and she waded through the balloons, blowing up a purple jewel tone balloon as she went. She opened it, and the nervous-looking young man looked both ways up and down the hall before squeezing into the knee-high pile of balloons.

“Hello, Peter,” she said, then blew one last breath into the balloon and tied it off. “You’re early. I’m almost done.”

“That’s… that’s a lot of balloons,” said the young man. His voice was quivering and his pants bulged. He handed her an envelope; she opened it to check its contents, then slipped it into her purse, and began to blow up a yellow balloon. When it was full and tight, she tossed it into the others.

“I know,” she said. “I blew up every single one! I’ve been blowing up balloons all morning, without any help. Only one more to go…”

She put an orange balloon to her lips and began to inflate it, but the young man didn’t stare. He was enraptured by the room full of balloons. Dorothy blew the orange one to its rated size, tied it off, and tossed it onto the bed.

“Tell me again what we’re going to do,” he said.

“Why, we’re going to fuck on the floor of our balloon room,” Dorothy said, and she was sure she saw the bulge in his trousers grow. Better free him soon, she thought. He’s a big boy, and he’ll pop right through that zipper.

She waded closer and spoke softly in his ear.

“And while we fuck,” she said, “I’m going to pop every last one of these balloons.” She picked up a big green balloon next to her and gently emphasized each word with a tap on his nose. “Every… last… one.” She squeezed the neck, digging in her long, red nails, and it exploded with a BANG. The nervous man almost jumped out of his skin, but Dorothy didn’t so much as flinch.

“And then,” she said, her voice now the faintest whisper, “You’re going to fuck me among the shards. Because we know what popping balloons does to you, don’t we?” She reached down and gave the bulge, now rather massive, a squeeze.

“Unnnnnnggh,” was all the young man could manage.

“You know, after blowing up all these big balloons, I wish I had another big thing I could blow…”

She dropped to her knees, popping a balloon as she did, and unbuckled the young man’s belt. She was looking forward to the afternoon, but she also wanted to get home to bed at a reasonable hour.

After all, the next day was Monday. And she would have a lot of balloons to blow up at Fun Tyme.

To be continued…

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