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Excerpts from early years and post war era when my parents got rid of my balloons for my own good.Ret. to Bye Bye B & S Index

These instances of balloons being destroyed by my parents are taken from the Early Years and Post War Era series.

Early Years #1:-

I had been to a friend's birthday party where they had loads of balloons and balloon braking games. I was terrified of balloons and didn't want to bring any home from the party. Dad insisted I take two which I brought home and had just tossed in my bedroom.

The two balloons that had come from the party a few weeks earlier were still about 3/4 inflated when I discovered where they had fallen behind a large toy chest where I had hidden them after we had initially come home from the party. I fished them out and was greeted with a luscious sweet aroma from the now soft and squishy rubber. I handled them very carefully, not because I was afraid of the pop at this point, but because I wanted them to last. I would hold one of the balloons against my face during my masturbation sessions allowing the aroma of the aging rubber to add additional stimulation to the mental balloon popping images that my mind was generating. This went on for about two weeks when I noticed upon arriving home from school one day that mom and straitened up my room that morning and my rubber playthings were no where in sight. I asked about them and she said that they were old and smelly and she had gotten rid of them. I didn't want to appear too concerned, but I was dying to know what she had done with them. I smilingly asked, "How did you pop them?' "Why I just tore them with my fingernails," she replied. "Did they make a loud bang?" I wanted to know. "No, just a tired poof sound," she replied. "Why are you so interested. I thought you really didn't like balloons." What I was really interested in was where the remains were. I hung around the house the rest of the afternoon waiting for opportunities to sneak a peek in the trash or garbage cans. Later that night I finally located the tissue thin rubber sheets in the garbage can under the remains of our dinner. YUCK! So much for that glorious aged rubber smell.

Early Years #2:-

Mom had allowed me to keep the first balloon I had really blown up myself to full size in my bedroom. I was using it as a masturbation aid.

One night I was so tired that I fell asleep without reaching orgasm and mom came in the room and found the balloon in my bed. She put it back where I kept it and when she came in the next morning to wake me she made it clear she didn't want me playing with any toys in my bed when I was supposed to be sleeping; especially balloons. I think she was beginning to suspect that balloons were more to me than just another toy. She brought the balloon over to me and said, "This balloon is old and smelly and it is time to get rid of it." Before I could object she pressed her fingernails into the soft rubber skin and the balloon died with a tired 'POOF'. Seeing my beloved toy destroyed gave me an instant hard on which was fortunately hidden in the folds of my jammies.

Early Years #3:-

I had five inflated balloons left over from our balloon play session that evening. Mother had warned me I was not to touch them or play with them after she had put me to bed. Naturally I couldn't resist pressing the soft sweet smelling rubber against my face and body so I had the balloons in the bed with me.

I started my second masturbation for the evening. Just as I reached climax I heard mother coming down the hall. I couldn't force myself to give up such a pleasurable rush at such a critical time. I was able to get the balloons off the bed and myself into a feigned sleeping position. Unfortunately, although I figured everything would look OK. I had not reckoned on how long it would take the balloons I had thrown off the bed to stop bouncing and rolling around on the floor. Mother spotted the residual movement and sternly informed me in a loud voice, since she knew I had to be still awake, "I told you that you were not to play with these balloons in your bed. You have been a bad boy and disobeyed me so I am going to get rid of these balloons once and for all." Somehow she managed to gather them all up and stormed out of the bedroom. Since they were each at least a foot in diameter with no attached string I would have expected her to just pop them right in the room and then walk out with the torn rubber. She evidently wanted to deny me the pleasure and enjoyment of seeing her bust them.

With extreme determination I forced myself to stay awake. I knew what the fate of my balloons was going to be, and if I couldn't watch them being destroyed I could at least hear the pops as she or dad finished them off. I figured since I didn't hear anything immediately that they would wait until they knew I was asleep before getting rid of them. I was right; and after an interminable time mother came back to check on me. I feigned sleep as she looked in on me, then she quickly walked away.

I didn't have long to wait. A POP, POP, POP, POP, POP, sound came from the direction of the kitchen and I knew my toys were no more. The mental thoughts of their demise caused me to have a third erection that night. As I was getting ready to take care of a hard situation I heard dad go out the back door of the house into the yard. I had always wondered why I could never find any torn rubber remains of the broken balloons in the trash or garbage can from our previous two balloon play nights, so I thought I would take a look see out my bedroom window which faced out into the back yard to see what dad was up to.

I couldn't resist asking my mother the next day what she had done with my balloons, since I didn't think she really liked popping them when they were really tightly inflated. Her response was, "Your father burned them with his cigarette."

Early Years #5:-

Dad and I had cleaned up the mess from my seventh birthday party. Mother had insisted that the 24 decoration balloons be disposed of and I had applied dad's lit cigarette to them. As we were loading the trash into the incinerator I noticed that there were still about ten unused balloons in the balloon box we were about to burn and I quickly pulled them out and stuck them clandestinely into my shorts pocket.

Dad put a match to the paper trash. I always enjoyed seeing things destroyed by burning, and watching the flames racing through the thin wrapping paper from my presents did nothing to relieve the pressure in my shorts. I then asked dad what we were going to do with the big bag filled with nearly a half gross of busted balloons. He replied, "It's fun to watch rubber burn; the way it melts, sparks, bubbles, and boils. When the paper is done burning we will put a match to the rubber in the bag along with the balloons I saw you put in your pocket. I'm sorry, but your mother and I don't think that it is good for you to have any more balloons to play with until you get older and interested in other things." (I didn't know then he was referring to girls). He continued, "But I'll make you a deal. Blow up one of those balloons until it bursts like your friend did at the party and I will let you keep them." Alas I was still too afraid of balloons to take him up on his offer. Ten perfectly good unused balloons went in the bag with the broken ones. Dad lit a match and applied the flame to the bottom of the rubber filled bag. The paper in the front half of the bag quickly burned away exposing the brightly colored pile of rubber inside which was shriveling as it tried to escape the searing heat. The flames soon reached the unbroken balloons on top and I watched sadly as the ends burned out of the rubber bags. Dad was right. Rubber does have a unique exciting way of burning, and to this day watching balloons burning I find sexually stimulating.

Early Years #6:-

I had attended my friend Harry's party and had managed to bring home two used and three unused balloons.

The next day, as I was changing into my play clothes after church, mom came into my room and asked me point blank what I had done with the balloons I got at the party the day before. She had obviously gotten this information from Harry's mom at church. I told her I didn't want them to get broken so I had deflated them. She said, "Let me see them." I had hidden the three unused balloons in the same place so I was forced to hand over all five. She continued as we walked toward the kitchen, "I told you I do not want you to play with balloons anymore. You are making yourself silly and it's not good for your health (she and dad had discovered I tended to have erections when I was around balloons). I'll fix these so you won't have to worry about them anymore." By this time we were in the kitchen. She picked up one of the used balloons in her left hand and blew some air in it, enough to fill the bladder without really stretching the rubber. It was about three inches in diameter. She picked up the cigarette she had been smoking from the ash tray on the kitchen counter in her right hand, took a drag making the tip glow, then pressed it against the balloon. There was a small puff of gray smoke as the burning cigarette seared through the thin rubber skin allowing the entrapped air to escape. The balloon drooped limply from her fingers. As she repeated this procedure with the other four balloons my stem expanded to full attention under my play shorts. Watching my mother so ingloriously destroying my favorite toys really aroused me sexually. At the same time, however, I was heartbroken. "There," she replied, "That should fix them so you won't have to get excited about having fun with them." Then she added, "And I better not catch you taking this smelly rubber out of the garbage can either."

Post War Era #2:-

After a great expenditure of time and money I had managed to win two large stand up Mickey Mouse balloons with cardboard feet, a large body section, plus the normal round head and ears. Inflated they were over two feet in height. I had them sitting on the bureau in my bedroom the following day when I came home from school. She had also bought me a pair of camp shorts during the day which she made me put on. She had been drinking, was in a surly mood, and wanted to know if balloons still sexed me up even though it had been several years during the war since I had had contact with balloons to any extent.

Mother grabbed one of the Mickey balloons off the top of my bureau and started rubbing the head and ear end on my bare legs and knees. She then started squishing the ears into my crotch. "Let's see if balloons still make you silly; shall we," was her comment. I fought to control the pleasurable feelings that were flowing over me, but the feel of the balloon massaging my bare legs and crotch area and the smell of the aged rubber soon overcame my ability to control myself and my penis sprang to life. This was what my mother was looking for. "Ah, I thought so," she snapped. "These damn balloons still make you silly." She threw the balloon on the floor and stormed out of the room as it bounced around, saying, "I'm going to get you a nice sharp pin and I want you to bust those balloons and get rid of them right now."

At this point I was getting mad myself. I had gone to a lot of trouble and expense to get a couple of lousy balloons for my pleasure and this would be the fourth time she had destroyed them or made me destroy them. I quickly pulled the necks of the balloons loose from the cardboard feet and let the balloons sail around the room as the air discharged. Mom, of course, heard the sound of the deflating balloons and as she walked toward my room with the pin she yelled, "I want those damn balloons destroyed so you can't play with them again."

I picked up the nearly foot long limp rubber bags and handed them to her. I said, "Since you don't like to hear balloons popping you can get rid of them like you did before." She gave me a quizzical look and I continued, "Remember how you just filled them with a little air and then burned a hole in the rubber skin with your cigarette." (This is what she had done to the balloons I had brought home from Harry's birthday party 5 years earlier). I had found this inglorious way of destroying balloons very sexually stimulating, and if they had to go I wanted to get the most erotic stimulation possible out of their demise. She gave me a sadistic grin and said, "I've got a better idea. Let's get rid of them once and for all."

Balloons in hand we went out to the back yard through the kitchen where she stopped to pick up her cigarette lighter. She handed me the balloons saying, "Here, hang your balloons up from the branch over here and I'll show you how to get rid of balloons so there is nothing left to play with." (She knew just playing with the torn rubber from broken balloons could get me aroused). I snapped off two branches and stuck the balloon necks over the broken ends. Two very limp Mickeys were hanging head and ears down. Mother flicked the lighter to life and applied the flame to one of the ears. The rubber immediately shriveled away from the heat but she quickly raised the lighter in hot pursuit. The rubber quickly burst into flame and big drops of burning latex started dripping on the ground. She moved the flame over and torched the other ear. By the time the head and ears were gone the heat buildup in the body section caused the remains of the balloon to erupt in a large smoky flare that quickly melted off the neck and dropped to the ground. On the ground beneath the burning neck section of the balloon was a cauldron of burning bubbling rubber. We watched the smoky orange flames for a minute. She then applied the lighter flame to the ears of the second balloon and it burned just as fiercely. She seemed to enjoy watching my toys burn and did not seem to notice the massive hard on that was creating a bulge in the front of the new shorts she had bought me.