Sunday Quickie: Full of Hot Air

On the most beautiful day of the summer last year, I finally caved in for my boyfriend. Ryan had mocked me since New Year’s, chided me for being a big baby. He bullied me, pressured me until I couldn’t tell him no any longer.

He set up the hot air balloon at the riverside campsite where we’d first had sex. The maple trees were green and lush, and all the wildflowers were in full bloom. The air was hot, and heavy with the scent of nature.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, eager to be done with this balloon trip. I did not like heights, and Ryan knew it. But something about watching him work made me giddy. He wore tan shorts and a red polo shirt, with white sneakers. I helped where I could, pulling ropes taut, moving stuff around, but mostly I just gawked.

The sun beat down on my bare shoulders, tempting me to change out of my yellow tunic and into my bikini. I pulled at my denim miniskirt, and wondered how distracting I’d be to Ryan if I were half naked.

He finished the work in what seemed like no time.

It was his charming laugh and debonair smile that convinced me to climb into the basket. Ryan helped me in, and soon enough he had the flames high and we were rising.

A few feet up. A few yards. Above the trees, and I wanted to pee. I clung to his arm, knuckles white and straining to hold on. I’d never been this clingy to a boy or man in my life. I figured this would be a good place to start.

Higher. The trees became small. The campsite just a postage stamp on the ground. The river cut through the canopy like a blue wound.

And then I saw how damn beautiful everything was from up high.

Ryan turned me away, facing outward. I planted my hands on the basket’s rail, squeezing tight. I felt scared and wonderful, thrilled and completely unsure of myself all at the same time. Ryan made the balloon go higher yet, so far up I could see the valleys where I lived and worked.

He placed his hands on my waist. As we rose in the air, I could feel the bulge in his pants rising as well. Up in the sky, the air was cooler, less humid. But the basket was just heating up, with his body pressed close to mine.

“Hold on to me tight,” I said.

“I won’t let go,” Ryan said.

I took his hand, and pressed his fingers between my legs. “No,” I said. “I mean, really hold onto me.”

Ryan kissed my ear. Massaging little circles on my twat, he pushed up against me even tighter. I responded by bucking and gyrating my hips. His kisses became more passionate, intense. The fear of being this high up mixed with sexual desire, concocting a devilish emotion I’d never had. A sort of helpless amazement.

I slipped my panties off for Ryan, eager to let him inside. He obliged by taking off his shirt and unzipping his pants. But he only pushed the tip in. In the bedroom, I might’ve slammed my butt against him, to force him in deeper. In the hot air balloon, I dared not move too suddenly.

His throbbing member slithered in, too slow. The anticipation killed me, and I let out a high pitched moan. I turned my head, whipping him with my long black hair. Ryan had a smug grin on his face, gripping my hips as he inched his way into me. My knees wobbled, and I swear if he weren’t pricking me I might’ve fallen out.

He increased his pace, making the basket jitter slightly under my feet. He pulled my tunic down, and then my bra straps, exposing my breasts to the big blue sky. 

So vulnerable, every sense heightened and magnified. The pressure in my tunnel built, each kiss wetter and sloppier than the last.

I thrashed against his cock, losing control. Weightless and tipsy with desire, my nipples tingled. Everywhere up and down my skin was hot and sweaty. I dared to let one hand go of the rail, and reached around to grab Ryan by the hip.

To force him faster. Deeper. My nails dug into skin, leaving red and blue scratch marks.

Ryan obliged. Pumping me even faster. I could barely breath. My head seemed so light, so woozy, as if I’d drank a bottle of wine too fast. I closed my eyes, and enjoyed the sensation of flying.

My orgasm hit me from nowhere. My tunnel clenched Ryan, making him gasp and pump even faster. My juices ran down my thighs. And then Ryan pulled out, and popped his load on my back. His hot come dripped across my skin.

He held me close the rest of the trip. Never before I had felt more safe in a man’s arms.

Ryan and I plan on continuing this tradition every summer. Now, I tease him, asking when he’s going to rise to the occasion for me again.


Copyright © 2020 Hermit Muse Publishing

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Author: David Anthony Brown

Indie writer and publisher. Among other jack-of-all-trade skills...

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