I have no desire to post FFF today. Seriously, since I’m traveling, I’ve been seeding the morning’s posts the night before — all well and good until I woke up this morning and the first thing I had to do was look for an FFF candidate.
Searching through erotic fan fic archives for the worst stories is dire in the best of times, but to face that horror first thing in the morning? All I want to do is go back to bed and maybe cry a little. Besides, there’s no fucking way I can top last week’s epic tale of architectural bestiality — incidentally, you should know our favorite castle-fucking giant squid has his own Facebook fan page — so I’m sure you folks will be disappointed with this odd little tale of Thundercats and their balloon fetish.
The balloon, filled with air, deflated through Cheetara’s fingers and ruffled about the white and black mane of Bengali.
Exhausted, soft and limp, it crumbled into a wad of rubber within the woman’s grasp.
The youth sighed, eyes rolling with ecstasy, and stood to straddle the cheetah between his legs.
How it started – who knew, who cared. It was simply a kink she learned
as a teenager among those boys of Thundera. She imported the treat into
Third Earth where it languished unsatisfied, frustrated by a lack of
cooperation among the men. Liono could not find any pleasure with it.
Tygra thought it was odd and treated it like a condition to be
analyzed. Panthro just did not get it….
It was not until Bengali appeared that Cheetara found another youth appreciative of that ritual.
It was akin to a toy used to gratify. It was very unusual, though, the
toy and the feelings of pleasure it generated. It required a bit of
practice. But the cheetah always knew sex and its expression was a
function of the mind and not the body and, if willing and able, a
partner could be trained….
I don’t understand the balloon, I don’t understand why someone would write about the balloon, and I don’t know why the Thundercats are involved. It’s all making me very sad, and does the following…
The truth was the tiger was not exactly a virgin yet the inexperience could not be denied.
The toy was part of the fun right at the start of their seduction.
It was night when Cheetara and Bengali sat watch at the top of the
tower. While they chatted she noticed a pile of balloons – the remains
of Snarfer’s birthday party. She grasped a robust, pink balloon and
bounced it about. He noticed and tried to take a balloon but they
slipped through his grip.
If you have ever described a balloon as robust, please seek psychiatric help immediately.
The conversation lulled and she brought up the subject of the
Amazonians and the time he seemed to be spending among those warrior
women. Sitting, again, suddenly he blushed and fidgeted. Giggling, as
if playing along with the discomfort, she let her balloon fall onto his
lap. She pressed it against his crotch. He, reflexively, spread wide
Within the space opened between his thighs that balloon fit snug.
“And what did I stir up?” she asked through whisper.
Nothing? Because it’s a goddamn balloon?
Cheetara pinched the balloon’s knotted tip. Then, slowly, while
Bengali’s eyes followed transfixed, she slid her fingers up and down
its squeaky rubber skin. The long, fat balloon quivered with each and
every stroke. Until she played with its tip, again, and it burst into
wads of latex.
There are so many phallic objects that can be stroked sensually. I’m pretty sure balloons are not on that list.
That move proved to be the key that unlocked a passion only their
child-like play sated. He craved the toy and the way she used it. It
was stand-in, accentuator, magnifier. The game was the center of the
act they shared where it was the intermediate between bodies – it made
the act of touching, flesh to flesh, all nasty and exciting as if
Bengali dropped his loincloth and uncovered the region where his
genitals ought to be. Cheetara gazed – the youth was not yet aroused so
the flesh was nestled within tufts of white and black fur. Invisible.
Except to a woman’s judging eyes….
Overwhelmed by urges fomenting between her legs, she grasped his hips
and shoved his crotch into her face. Against her cheek she felt his
warm, firm tip. His length started to unfurl and sputter. She drew
away, still squeezing and holding onto his cheeks, and watched as his
rough, pink organ poked through the fuzz.
Unfurl and sputter? Dude, you need to see a regular doctor, ASAP.
Cheetara blew into a balloon while Bengali stroked her mane. When full
of air she only pinched its tip. Then she rubbed it along the fur
between the tiger’s thighs. She felt, vicariously though the rubber,
the youth transform from soft to hard – it weighed against the toy and
stunted its motion.
She brought the balloon onto his sac so that the penis lay against the latex.
“Grow big for mommy, baby,” she cooed, kissing its shaft. She loosened
her pinch of the balloon and let air escape to brush against his tip.
“Like that, yeah, bigger, bigger, you can do it, baby.”
I’m devastated to realize that when FFF when ask their underage lovers to call them “mommy” I’m no longer fazed by it in the slightest. Sigh.
“I’m almost there,” he replied, biting his lip, tearing out of the
corner of his eye. “Oh, gods, I’m swelling up – Cheetara – I’m swelling
long and fat…for you…..”
Again Cheetara turned the balloon onto Bengali’s penis. Stroking its
length. Patting its tip. It stood horizontal – and she lathered the
glans with the rubber until the whole of the head what enveloped by the
toy. It popped and the youth replied with a shudder. The woman replied
with a chuckle. She kissed where the flesh was reddened by the burst
and the tiger repeated that head to toe jerk.
Um, what? What the fuck is going on here? First of all, bitch, you pop a balloon near my junk you gonna get the pimphand. Second of all, “lathered the glans” until “the whole head was enveloped”? Is Bengali’s dick in the balloon? Is the balloon Bengali’s dick? What the fuck does this mean? And how did the Thundercat penis make the balloon pop? AND WHY AM I ASKING THESE QUESTION OH GOD LOOK AT MY LIFE
Another balloon. Another round of attention given to the pink glossy
tip swollen with dew. It was leaking a stream of excitement when the
toy met its end – and it was the cheetah who shuddered at the climax.
And a third – and a fourth – balloon followed. The tiger gasped while
she moaned and groaned and squiggled, drawing tightly her thighs
against her sweaty, hot lips. She roared as the toys yipped their pop.
You know what would be almost as erotic? Is Cheetara were stabbing Bengali’s dick with a fork. Seriously, I cannot wrap my head arounf baloons popping on his junk as an erotic act. The fact that I know this fetish exists in real life just makes me hurt and confused and scared.
By the tenth balloon his knees were weak and buckling. His toes were
curling, their claws were digging a steady rent into the floor. His
body was tensing, its skin was rubbing rhythmically against the woman.
When that balloon met Bengali’s tip, like a pair of lips falling into a
kiss, it exploded and a wad of white splattered against Cheetara’s face.
I find “When that balloon met Bengali’s tip, like a pair of lips falling into a
kiss” far more horrifying than the description of Cheetara’s facial. Trying to portray a balloon popping against a Thundercats dick as sensual and romantic is so fucking wrong it makes me want to punch a baby.
The cheetah held the tiger’s thighs and watched rapt while a puddle formed between her own two legs….
The rest of the youth’s orgasm followed like jerking, bucking fountain with the flow falling onto the scraps of rubber.
The End. Just a quick story of Cheetara, Bengali, and a pack of balloons. GODDAMN EVERYTHING EVER. Oh, I should let you know that this story is by Abraxas, author of the legendary Snarf Breeding Manual — who actually emailed me not to suggest this story, but one where Inuyasha‘s Sesshomaru stick whole children up his ass as sex toys. I decided to skip that one, but if you need a bit more horror than today’s FFF provided, have yourselves a fucking ball.