“I’ll set the cameras up; you just…try not to kill that balloon.”
“We have two hundred –”
“Don’t kill the balloon.”
Scott cracked his knuckles. “It’s taking everything in me not to.”
Thomas snorted and busied himself with the tripod.
“Why this room?” Scott asked.
“I think your subscriber will appreciate how dramatic it is. They’ll see every balloon before you burst it.”
“And the one hundred extras in the background?”
“This room has a good echo too,” Thomas replied, ignoring Scott’s question completely.
“It does,” Scott agreed.
“And I don’t think we could’ve got this many in the upstairs bedroom.” He flicked the shutter off the main camera. “Can you squat a few times?”
“You mean slut-drop.”
“If that’s what you want to call it, then yes.”
Scott mimed bursting balloons with his arse cheeks while Thomas got the right zoom.
“Does he want me to moan each time?” Scott asked.
Thomas shrugged. “He didn’t specify. Do what comes naturally.”
Scott frowned at Thomas not giving him any direction. He had poetic licence over his vocals, and the same thought cameback to him – there was nothing sexier than the sound of a man getting close.
“You ready?” Thomas asked.
Scott blinked. “Shouldn’t I take my clothes off?”
“Nah, he wants them on.”
“Oh…okay.”
“Set positions.”
Scott looked down the lens. “What?”
“And off we go.”
Scott grabbed the first balloon, Janice’s smiley face, and sat on it with more aggression than necessary.
He grabbed the next one, and the next, putting on a show that he was enjoying himself while popping balloons.
They’d looked up balloon fetish the day before, those partaking commonly referred to as ‘looners’. There were two categories: those sexually excited by popping balloons,poppers, and those who enjoyed balloons being inflated and deflated,non-poppers. Scott fully understood the brief and fully intended to satisfy hisloonerpopper.
Thomas counted down from a hundred at a pace that was hard to keep up with, but Scott tried his best, quickly getting out of breath. He gave up moaning around balloon fifty. He couldn’t fake getting aroused by a balloon, especially when he hated them, so his cock remained limp, but with his jeans on, no one could tell.
When Thomas finally said, one hundred, Scott collapsed on his hands and knees, gasping at the wooden floor.
“That was a lot harder than it looked,” he panted.
