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It was the early 1960's and I was living away from home during the work week in a furnished apartment near my employment. Several times a year I would ride the train in to the large city nearby on Wednesday nights when the stores were open late and shop for sexually "interesting" things. One of my favorite stores was a large Army Navy store that sold military surplus clothing and other gear. When the armed services started issuing class "A" uniforms with shorts for summer wear in the late fifties, used Army shorts started to become available on the surplus market, and occasionally I would be able to buy some really nice khaki shorts and knee socks to augment my still rather large supply of wearable scout shorts and stockings from the pile my father had bought me ten years earlier.

I was in the store near the end of summer when I discovered they had gotten in a large supply of neoprene weather balloons. Each balloon came in it's own individual square cardboard box with the usual military jargon and designations as well as usage instructions printed on of the sides. The balloons were rated as eight footers and came in two colors, red and natural, which upon inspection turned out to be a light yellowish tan. They wanted five bucks a pop for them which I thought was pretty steep considering you could get a pair of Lee jeans on sale for the same price. Nonetheless I blew $50 for ten of them, five of each color, because, although they must have had well over a hundred stacked there I wasn't sure when I would get in again should I decide to buy more. I had hesitated in the past on some items only to find they had sold out by the time I was in to buy more.

I could hardly wait to get home to my apartment to check out my purchase. I grabbed a box with a natural color balloon in it. What I discovered was a large compactly folded rubber bag that was about two and a half feet in diameter with a heavy plain rubber neck that was obviously fused on to the balloon proper. I had expected this because it was the same construction as the orange wind direction balloons dad had got me from the airport back when I was six. The added rubber thickness made the necks sufficiently stiff that there was no problem getting my lips over it to inflate the balloon.

There was a problem with inflating it, however. The neoprene rubber skin was as thin as a normal party balloon and stretched very easily. Relatively little pressure was required to inflate the balloon; the problem was the volume of air required. I was beginning to hyperventilate before I even had the un-stretched bag completely full. I started working on a blow for a minute then rest for a minute routine. After nearly an hour I finally got the balloon up to about five feet in diameter when I decided to call it quits. I wouldn't be able to leave it inflated in the apartment because it took up too much space in the small living room plus the building owner, I discovered, had a habit of coming in during the day every couple of months when I was at work to check and see that I hadn't swiped any of the Salvation Army furnishings. Since I couldn't leave it inflated I didn't want to invest any more time and effort in to getting it larger. At five foot it was still quite soft and squishy and making it any larger would have increased the risk of it hitting something in the room and popping and I didn't want to excite the tenants living below with a massive explosion over their heads at 10 PM which was past their normal week day bed time.

I fondled the large rubber bag for a good half hour forcing the soft rubber against my bare arms and legs. I had donned my balloon play gym shorts as soon as I had gotten home so I was already properly attired. I whacked myself off while holding the balloon against my knees by means of the neck. When I was done I released the neck and let the massive balloon slowly deflate. It must have taken over a minute because the neck was only about an inch and a half in diameter and the very low internal pressure didn't force the air out with near the blast you get from normal sized toy balloons. The balloon very slowly collapsed in to a three foot diameter flat disk in the middle of the living room.

The balloon was all nice and soft but it didn't have the sweet aroma of natural rubber like the balloons from the airport and the target balloons my friend Bob had. It did have a strong odor, but it was more of a chemical smell. I took the balloon into the bedroom and flattened it out on my bed on top of the bed spread and went to the kitchen for a bedtime snack.
After eating I went back to the bedroom and flopped on the balloon face down on the bed with my dick exposed over the top of the waist band of the gym shorts and I relieved myself for a second time with my juice squirting on the balloon. When I came down from my high I wiped the balloon off with a paper towel.

The next night after work and stopping off at a restaurant for supper I pulled out the previously inflated balloon and looked it over. It was about half again as big as when I had taken it out of the box, which is to say on the order of 36 inches in diameter. I had already been enjoying the rubber shorts made from the sweat suits I had bought from Sears for a number of months and I wondered if I cut the balloon in half and made a large cut out where the neck attached it I couldn't convert the balloon into a rubber kilt for my sexual pleasure.

It took awhile to locate the rubber glue from my surgery on the sweat suits and fortunately it was still usable. I got out my trusty scissors and the sharp steel quickly destroyed the first of my $5 weather balloons. I glued a narrow hem around the edge where I had cut the balloon in half and a wider one inch hem where I had cut the neck section away. When I was done gluing I hung my creation up to let the glue dry thoroughly. By turning up and gluing a hem top and bottom I eliminated the likelihood of the cut rubber edge ripping, especially around the waist when it was stretched, as I pulled on my new kilt. The double thick rubber also increased the gripping force at the waist and insured that my rubber skirt would stay up.

I walked over to the dresser mirror in the bedroom and tilted it down so I could view my new creation. I knew immediately that I had not wasted five bucks. The neck half of the weather balloon hung like a nice very full cut pleated skirt about five inches above my knees. It had been one of the natural colored balloons and I looked like a Roman gladiator in his thin leather skirt. The skirt was so full that my fully erect dick wasn't overly noticeable in the gathers of loose rubber hanging from my waist.

Needless to say by this point I had to take care of things down below so I just flopped on the bed and juiced off right into my new kilt. Now I had both the outside (from the previous night) as well as the inside of the former balloon baptized with my sexual fluid. I found that using my balloon kilt was far more enjoyable than shooting off in my rubber shorts because there was more freedom and it was much easier to clean up the residue because there was essentially only a single flat surface to deal with, not like the pieced together sections of the shorts.

I still had the other half of the balloon so I modified it in the same manner as I had the neck end. To allow for the hems for the first kilt I had cut the balloon in half about two inches below the mid point, so the second kilt was about that much shorter than the first. It still reached down far enough to cover my ass and the important thing in front, but things did get well exposed when I knelt down or bent over. For this reason I basically used the kilts made from the bottom half of the balloons that I cut up to masturbate in, and the longer, slightly more modest ones, when I romped around down deep in the woods.

Because of the gigantic size of the balloons it was obvious that mouth inflation to any thing near rated size was impracticable. Also the large size and difficulty of handling such a large balloon in any kind of breeze would make it nearly impossible to play with them out in the woods where there are countless sharp objects just waiting to puncture thin rubber balloon skins. These factors essentially limited my inflated balloon play with them to the cellar of my parents house when I was home on weekends. My dad and step mom generally always went out to their club on Saturday nights, but my stepbrother who was now about fifteen was often at home on these nights. I had made a point of concealing my unusual love for balloons from him so there were relatively few play sessions with the meteorological balloons for the next several years until he graduated from high school and went into the army. I did involve him in balloon bursting play from time to time during these earlier years to the extent that I would not expose my sexual desires or raise the ire of my father who was well aware of my fetishes. (See Adult Years- Fun With My Brother).

I took four of each color balloon home with me the weekend after I had bought them and by good luck was able to conceal them for safe storage with my main stash under the front porch. I kept one of each color out and put them with my "using" balloons way in the back of my dresser drawer. I had to wait several weeks, however, before I found myself in the house alone with sufficient time and safety to bring them out and have some fun with them.

Although we didn't have a tank type cleaner, the upright vacuum we had did have had a provision for attaching the hose and nozzle to the output side of the blower and was capable of putting out a more than sufficient blast to inflate the meteorological balloons. I had tried using the vac in the past to inflate standard party sized balloons but it just didn't develop sufficient pressure.

As always for my at home balloon play I was wearing a tee shirt and thin cotton gym shorts with nothing underneath as I pulled a natural colored balloon out of it's box. I re-read the instruction panel where it said the balloons were to be boiled first before using. I could understand this requirement if the balloons were stored in sub zero conditions, but I couldn't figure the rationale when used in the 65 degree ambient of the basement. I hadn't boiled the balloon I inflated back in my apartment and It had no trouble inflating to five feet or so. Because I was concerned about any potential smell I decided to forgo the boiling and just blow the sucker up.

I connected the hose to the output side of the vacuum, turned it on, and stuck the cleaning nozzle into the balloon neck. I wanted to see just how big they would get. This was always the first test I performed on any batch of balloons from a new source that I bought. The limp rubber of the balloon quickly filled and began to stretch. It didn't take long to get the balloon to about four feet or so but then the rate of expansion dropped dramatically, not because the balloon was any harder to blow up, but because the relative volume was so great. I just stood there holding the balloon neck and hose and letting the vac do it's thing. Soon the balloon was so big it was resting on the smooth concrete floor of the cellar. Anticipating this, I had carefully swept up all debris from the floor in the area where I had sufficient room to blow the balloons up. At five bucks a shot I didn't want any unplanned pops.

Years before I had checked the clearance from the cellar floor to the underside of the floor joists and it was about seven feet eight inches. After several minutes of roaring away the vacuum had the balloon large enough that the upper surface was beginning to press against the floor joists. At this point the neoprene was super thin and there was little doubt that dirt, splinters, or just a rough spot on the floor or the overhead beams would finish the balloon off at any moment. It was obvious I would never determine the ultimate burst size inside any structure I had available. I pulled the nozzle out of the balloon neck and folded the rubber back to keep the air in while I contemplated what I was going to do with this monster I had inflated. I was standing a mere foot and a half away from a floor to ceiling wall of thin latex and I was beginning to wonder how much danger this posed should the balloon decide to burst.

At that point the useless roaring of the vacuum then caught my attention so I turned and reached over to shut it off, but since I wasn't really looking in the direction of my hand as I groped for the switch on the handle, I managed to knock the vac over with the handle falling away from me. With out thinking I turned around further and moved toward the screaming machine as I squatted down to grab the handle to get to the power switch. This maneuver caused me to tug on the neck that was in my other hand and drag the balloon a bit scrubbing the rubber on the floor and ceiling. That was all she wrote.

The balloon went PHOOOOM as the neck was jerked out of my hand by the rapidly contracting rubber. It really wasn't a loud pop at all. A tightly inflated party balloon made just as big a bang. I surveyed the remains; three very large sheets of rubber. Two of them would be useful to juice off on but the other piece that had had the neck section attached near the center of it was only good to get put to the torch which I would do the next day when I could have my fun out in the woods. I was thankful the balloon didn't rip into a thousand shards as some of my balloons did when I blew them up until they burst. The hundreds of square inches of latex which pretty near matched the color of the floor would be a real pain to clean up. One down, one to go.

I inflated the red balloon as I had the natural colored one, but I stopped short of having it press against the ceiling. After holding it for a few minutes I released the air and allowed the balloon to deflate to about a four foot diameter. I found some string and tied it tightly around the neck to keep the remaining air in. I then had in my hand a super soft highly squeezable red rubber bag. I could easily take my fists and press them together through the center of the balloon.

I was sitting in a chair as I grabbed my arms around the balloon and pulled it tightly up against the front of me. My bare knees were pressed well into the soft yielding rubber which was sufficiently compliant to press my hard dickey against my lower stomach. I twisted the balloon around listening to the rubbery squeaking sounds only a latex balloon can produce. It didn't take me long to get hot and I stroked off quickly cupping my tool in a handful of the torn rubber from the burst balloon. Um, um, good.

After I came down from my high I blew up and popped off several toy balloons from my collection before resuming play with the big red balloon sitting in the corner. I would have loved to have batted it around because it was unbelievably bouncy, but I knew that it wouldn't survive such play at all, so for safety I was limited to just fondling it and pressing against myself until I was ready for my next orgasm.

After I shot my second load for the night it was time for clean up and I deflated the red balloon and tried to stuff it back in it's box. LOL. Even with my best effort the sides and bottom were bulged out and the top wouldn't stay closed. Because I was concerned about the pungent smell of the neoprene permeating my bedroom I knew I had to store it in a reasonably sealed container. Fortunately I was able to find a airtight plastic bag to use that I could tie shut, and I returned it to the stash in my room along with the other balloons I hadn't popped.

For the most part this was representative of my use of the meteorological balloons as balloons. Most survived several squeeze and rub sessions, and then rather than just bursting them, I cut them up to make additional kilts to wear when I was out deep down in the woods where there was little chance of being seen by anyone. I never wanted to have to come up with a viable story as to why a grown man was running around in the woods wearing a thin rubber skirt.

Three or four of them did burst while I was rubbing and squeezing them or popped when they accidentally banged into something sharp. These resulted in a large POOF as the balloon essentially just split open. The resulting large sections of rubber made great sheets to have fun on but none ripped when they burst in such a way that I could make an additional kilt from the remains.

The rubber kilts I made from the used balloons didn't have a very long life expectancy when worn in the woods because the loose full skirt readily got hung up on branches and low brush and would rip before I realized that it was snagged. The rubber shorts made from the sweat suits faired better because the individual legs weren't as open, but they too would often get snagged and ripped. The total freedom of loose rubber clothing is very sensual but quite impractical out doors. My rubber garments tore far easier than the thin cotton gym shorts I often wore. Posted on / /99

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