Yesterday my dream came true at long last, it would haunt me all this time: the massive French 40-inch Burgundy-coloured balloon …was gone with a pleasingly surprising soft pop.
I had dreamt of them for quite a while. And now the gifts were there, four of those monsters.
Even inside the packing, they looked pretty impressive, and as I took one of them and felt the weight, I was immediately overcome with respect and overwhelming desire to unpack it right away … and do it on the spot, here in my own office. However, I imagined my superior’s facial expression who might unexpectedly pop into my office, I used my will to hide the unpacked balloons, squeezing the four monsters into my handbag. Certainly, I spent my remaining working time “not here”. I could not help keeping an eye on the handbag, holding in its womb four coveted things, and my imagination just denied portraying anything, referring to “…too many inches of latex”.
Needless to say, I was in a special rush on that very day from work.
And finally… I made myself snug in the bed in the bedroom and threw the treasure already (yet) at my discretion out of the plastic bag and added another four mammoth pieces. I gave it some time to admire but could not stick it any longer. Beyond my will, the hand was off to grasp one of the new balloons. «Colour - Burgundy. Made in France», a tag indicated on the tightly sealed packing produced from compact and thick plastic. Sure, there was no need in scissors. In a matter of seconds, the packing was exposed to frenzied bites and nailed apart into pieces. The balloon … feeling like latex was warm and silky. My lips reached out to the thing as they did to breathe life into it – and it came indeed to life. My heart pumped hard and I couldn’t let it off. Massive, more than a meter wide, fabulously gorgeous, shimmering with pearl luster, coloured like noble French wine, it was set to grow more and more … I felt it was anxious and expecting me to carry on … I took a break for an instance to fetch breath and feast my eyes – and was startled. It was just incredibly big and devilishly superb. Its perfect and smooth body would send purple reflections up and down. My mind produced a weird picture: glow of hellish fire. I had no more strength to resist temptation and, in a practised move, made a regular knot on the latex neck of the balloon. Now I could embrace it and press my body hard closer. It was strong, warm and bouncy – how fabulous.
Beyond my will, the hand was off to grasp one of the new balloons. «Colour - Burgundy. Made in France»
So as not to hurt it, I took pains to put it down to the bed, and for an instant as I let it off from my embrace I slowly lay above it. It accepted me with gentle and taut lightness, in an accurate effort to repeat all curves of my body, and I finally felt this unspeakable «full contact» of my skin and silky warm latex of the balloon. I could lie this way indefinitely: sprawling my body above, holding it in my arms, giving it a slight swing back and forth … but a scorching fire was slowly blazing up and running high in my breast, with treacherous throbbing and painfully delightful feeling of heaviness below the waist which I was keen to make stronger and let go at the same time… I pressed my body harder and harder, hugging and squeezing it, heat in the chest unbearable, tanned skin exuding droplets of sweat, and there beneath… there was overpowering pain and wetness. It seemed it would continue ever and I was on the verge of death. Pain and pleasure intertwined and filling the whole of my world. The hands convulsed and clutched the latex, the balloon grew tense and throbbing beneath me and… popped.