balloon fetish, balloons, brothels, clients, fantasy, fetish, kink, money, personal stories, sex industry, Sex Work, sexuality, south australia
Most of the people in my life do not know what I do for job. But every now and then I will feel the need to tell someone close to me for whatever reason, or if I’m in a cheeky mood at a party I might to decide to tell the unsuspecting stranger when they innocently enquire ” what do you do?”. Sometimes I’ll smile sweetly and respond “I’m a hooker”, and watch their face register shock/interest/disbelief/disdain sometimes all four at once. No matter why or where I choose to disclose I have to be prepared to do a “sex work 101” education session with who ever I tell and as part of that session there are certain questions that I’ll get asked. One of the questions that invariably comes up is “what’s the weirdest thing you have ever done/ who was your strangest client?” or variations to that effect.
So I tell the story of the Balloon Guy. I have since found out that this guy is fairly well-known around the traps, and is happy to share his story. As it turns out there is quite a community of balloon fetishists. I have mentioned before that my service has always been a fairly vanilla service and so I havent had a lot of experience with different or extreme fetishes and there are many sex workers and others who are experienced and provide more specialised services catering to people with alternative fantasies. But I still get lots of opportunities to learn about the wide and wonderful world of human sexuality.
This story is set in yet another brothel on a very quiet day. There was only the receptionist and me on shift. Every now and then the door bell or phone would interrupt our gossiping and chatting. Dull and boring with not much money to be made. And then Balloon Guy phoned. He was calling to check if there was anyone on shift who would be willing to cater to his particular interest. The receptionist put his call on hold and asked me if I would be willing to blow up balloons untill they popped, I laughed and said “sure – why not”. I didn’t for a second think this guy was serious, or that he would even show up. We get lots of strange calls, not many of them eventuate into an actual booking.
But, within the hour the doorbell rang. The receptionist answered the door and showed the client to the waiting room. She came back laughing and saying “it’s that balloon guy who rang up!”. I wasn’t sure if I even believed her so I laughed too and went to meet my client. Sure enough before he paid the client produced a bag of balloons.
“I’m the guy that rang up. Did the receptionist tell you about me? I have a balloon fetish, I really want you to blow up some of these balloons, maybe even enough to pop one.”
I probably laughed again. But I quickly agreed and took the money for an hour booking plus $100 extra for a ‘fantasy fee’. I took him and his balloons to my workroom and left him alone for a moment to “make himself comfortable” while I put the money away.
On a quiet day, I was thrilled for the money, but as soon as I left the room I started freaking out. I mean, it all sounds easy enough, but blowing up a balloon until it pops? Could I actually do that? Oh well, I had his money now, so I may as well give it a go. Fake it till you make it. Another funny story for the future book.
When I went back in, he had the balloons spread all over the bed. He had collected them from all over the world and he lovingly showed them to me while he told me their stories. All I could think of was “oh my god, they’re specialty balloons, they’re huge, I have to blow up these over sized, good quality balloons until they pop. What have I agreed to!!”
And eventually it came time for me fulfill my part of the agreement. By this time I was in my underwear and he was naked. I began blowing up the balloons. He watched me, smiling. I would stop to answer his questions: he asked how it felt, if I was scared, if I liked the smell of the rubber. He wanted me to tell him what I was doing.
“I’m going to blow up this big balloon until its huge, and if I keep on blowing it, it might pop!”
“Yes I am scared, because if it pops, it will make a big noise, and will bang in my face, and I’ll probably scream and jump”
“It smells and taste like rubber, the smell is all on my hands and in my mouth”
I kept blowing the balloon. It was pretty scary blowing up a huge balloon stretching it beyond its limit. Every breath could burst it. The anticipation was killing me and I played it up for him which only made it worse.
He got me to swap balloons occasionally, blowing up many different balloons and then letting them down. None of hem had popped yet. He told me stories about balloons from his childhood. About the girls at the fair who would blow up the balloons for the kids. He would hang around watching them all day, he loved it when one would accidently pop a balloon, it would make them jump and giggle. He told me about how he would beg his mum to blow up balloons for him and then he would rub it on his skin until it made that awful squealing noise which made his mother tell him off, and he loved it.
Each time the balloon got really big, I’d slow my breathing down. I wasn’t sure if he wanted anything sexual from me as well, so I was trying to read his non verbal cues, as well as psyching myself up for the big bang. He touched me a little, and he touched the big balloon I was blowing up, a lot.
I kept talking balloon dirty to him, and he began to touch himself.
“It’s so big, it’s scary” *giggle*
I blew and blew and blew and blew. His sexual interest in the balloon and himself intensified. It was while he was rubbing it (the balloon I mean) that it popped. It actually wasnt as scary as I had anticipated, having his hand on it sort of took the impact out of it. He didn’t orgasm, but his sexual intensity had peaked.
As per usual, my timing was impeccable and the hour was nearly up by the time balloon had popped. The Balloon Guy dressed and packed up his precious rubbers. I asked him if he was satisfied with his booking, seeing as he hadn’t orgasmed. He told me he rarely orgasms with strangers, but that the memory of our session would give him lots of inspiration for future orgasms.
Once I showered and dressed I showed him out the front door and hurried back inside ready to tell the whole story to the extremely amused receptionist who had been patiently waiting to hear all about it.