Pebbles woke them, as he always did, with a quack that started somewhere deep in his chest and rose into a demand. Hazel's arm was warm across Ivy's ribs, her breath slow and even, but the duck was already at the foot of the bed, the special harness dangling from his beak like a promise. Hazel groaned, pulled the pillow over her face. Ivy laughed, quiet, and kissed the curve of Hazel's shoulder.
"We've been saying we'd do this for weeks."
"I know." Hazel's voice was muffled. "I know. But it's early, and you're warm, and he's being very bossy about it."
Pebbles quacked again, louder. Ivy sat up, reached for her glasses on the nightstand. "Come on. We'll walk to the park, get coffee on the way back. It'll be nice."
Hazel emerged from under the pillow, hair wild, eyes soft. She looked at Ivy like she was still surprised to find her there. "Fine. But you're carrying the duck if he gets tired."
"Deal."
They dressed slowly, unhurried, the morning light slanting through the curtains. Hazel pulled on a flowy yellow sundress, barefoot still, padding to the kitchen to fill Pebbles's water dish while Ivy found her worn-in boots. The harness was a careful thing — Ivy had ordered it weeks ago, adjustable straps that wouldn't press too hard on his fragile keel, a soft neoprene pad across his chest. Hazel knelt and Pebbles waddled into it, patient, lifting each foot as she guided the straps around him. She clipped the leash, looked up at Ivy. "Ready?"
"Ready."
The street was quiet, the kind of Saturday morning where the world felt a little softer. Pebbles stepped off the porch like an explorer setting foot on a new continent, his head swiveling, his beak parting in a soft sound of wonder. The leash stayed loose in Hazel's hand, her fingers wrapped around it like she'd been holding it her whole life. Ivy walked beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed, and watched the way Hazel's whole face softened when Pebbles found a patch of clover and investigated it with grave seriousness.
They passed the corner bakery, the little bookshop with the cat in the window, the house with the rose trellis that had finally bloomed. Hazel pointed at things — a particularly fluffy dog, a child's chalk drawing on the sidewalk, a mailbox painted like a ladybug — and Ivy smiled at each one, at the joy of being someone Hazel wanted to share the world with.
At the park, Pebbles found a puddle and stood in it, contemplating his reflection. Hazel sat on the bench, the leash still looped around her wrist, and Ivy sat beside her. The morning was warm, the air thick with the smell of cut grass and something floral from the gardens nearby. Ivy watched Hazel watch the duck, and felt something settle in her chest, a quiet rightness.
Then she remembered the handbag.
She'd slipped it onto her shoulder before they left, unthinking, the way she always carried it. But inside, tucked in the side pocket, was something she'd bought on a whim two days ago. A punch balloon, eighteen inches round, deflated and folded small. Rich purple, the color of violets. She'd meant to save it for later, for some private moment, but watching Hazel sit there in the sunlight, content and beautiful and hers, Ivy felt a different impulse rise.
She reached into the bag. Her fingers found the smooth latex, pulled it out. Hazel glanced over, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "What's that?"
Ivy held it up, still flat, a limp circle of purple. "A surprise."
Hazel's cheeks flushed, a slow pink that crept up from her collarbones. "Ivy. We're in public."
"I know." Ivy smiled, small and mischievous, and brought the balloon to her lips. She blew, a long steady breath, and the latex swelled, the purple deepening as it filled. She tied it off with practiced ease, the knot neat and tight, and held the finished sphere in her palm. Eighteen inches of supple rubber, bouncy and light. "Want to see what it does?"
Hazel's breath caught. "Ivy."
Ivy stood, the balloon in one hand, and took a step back. Pebbles looked up from his puddle, curious. And then Ivy swung her arm, the rubber band of the balloon's nozzle gripped between her fingers, and punched the sphere lightly against Hazel's shoulder.
It bounced off with a soft thump. Hazel blinked. "Did you just—"
Ivy did it again, this time to her other shoulder, the balloon rebounding with a satisfying smack. "Just a little teasing," she said, her voice light. "You look tense."
Hazel's lips parted, a sound caught in her throat. The balloon had hit her chest this time, right between her breasts, and through the thin cotton of her sundress Ivy could see her nipples hardening. "Ivy, there are people."
"No one's looking." It was almost true — the park was nearly empty, just a jogger in the distance and an old man reading on a bench far away. Ivy swung again, the balloon landing against Hazel's thigh with a soft slap. "Relax. It's just a game."
But it wasn't, not really. Hazel's eyes had gone dark, her breath shallow. The balloon connected with her stomach, her hip, the curve of her ass as she turned, and each impact sent a small shudder through her body. Ivy watched her chest rise and fall, watched the way her hands gripped the leash a little tighter, and felt a heat building low in her own belly.
"You like this," Ivy said, not a question.
Hazel's voice was thin. "I like you."
Ivy hit her again, the balloon landing square against her cunt, and Hazel gasped, her thighs pressing together. The latex was warm now, carrying the heat of Hazel's body. Ivy pulled it back, aimed lower, and sent it bouncing off the inside of Hazel's thigh, close enough to feel the tremor.
"Walk," Ivy said, her voice soft but firm. "Keep walking. I'll keep teasing."
Hazel stood, unsteady, and started down the path. Pebbles waddled ahead, oblivious, the leash trailing from Hazel's hand. Ivy followed, the balloon ready, and every few steps she would swing it — against Hazel's back, her ass, the backs of her thighs. The sounds Hazel made were small, bitten off, swallowed before they could escape. But Ivy saw the way her hips rolled slightly with each step, the way her hand kept drifting toward her own stomach before pulling away.
They passed the playground, empty and still. The rose garden, the little bridge over the pond. And with each impact, Hazel's breathing grew rougher, her steps less steady. Ivy hit her between the shoulder blades, and Hazel stumbled, caught herself on a tree trunk, her forehead pressing against the bark.
"Ivy." The word was a plea, ragged and raw. "Ivy, I'm—"
Ivy stepped closer, the balloon pressed against Hazel's lower back. "You're what?"
"Close." Hazel's voice cracked. "I'm so close, and you haven't even touched me, and I—"
Ivy swung the balloon between Hazel's legs from behind, the latex pressing against her through the sundress. Hazel's whole body jerked, a strangled moan escaping her throat. And then she was trembling, her knees buckling, her hands flat against the tree trunk as a series of shudders rolled through her. Her mouth open, her eyes squeezed shut, her breath coming in broken gasps.
Ivy held her steady, one hand on her hip, the other still gripping the balloon. She counted the tremors — three, four, five — until Hazel's body went slack, leaning back against Ivy's chest.
"Fuck," Hazel whispered. "That was— I didn't even—"
"I know." Ivy kissed her temple, soft. "I could see it. Every time the balloon hit you, you got a little closer. You came from a punch balloon, Hazel. In a park. With your duck watching."
Hazel laughed, shaky and disbelieving. "I hate you."
"No you don't."
"No I don't." She turned, her face flushed, her eyes bright. "But you're going to pay for this when we get home."
Ivy smiled, slow and wicked. "I'm counting on it."
The walk back was a blur. Hazel's hand found Ivy's, their fingers laced, the leash still looped around her wrist. Pebbles waddled beside them, tired now, his exploration complete. Ivy swung the balloon idly, letting it bounce against her own thigh, watching Hazel watch her.
The apartment door had barely closed before Hazel had Ivy pressed against it, her mouth hot and hungry, her hands finding the hem of Ivy's shirt. "You think you're so clever," she breathed against Ivy's lips. "Getting me all worked up on the street, making me come in public like it's nothing."
"I thought it was hot." Ivy's voice was steady, but her heart was hammering. "Watching you fall apart over a balloon. Knowing I did that to you."
Hazel's eyes went dark. "Take off your clothes. Get on the bed. Face down."
But she paused. ‘‘First let’s get Pebbles out of his harness.’’
They did, and Ivy went.
The bedroom was warm, the curtains half-drawn. Ivy stripped quickly, her boots kicked off, her jeans pooling on the floor. She lay face-down on the bed, her cheek against the pillow, her body already humming with anticipation. Behind her, she heard Hazel opening the drawer, the familiar sound of the strap-on harness being taken out, the soft clink of buckles.
"Where's the balloon?" Hazel's voice was low, almost a growl.
"On the floor. By the door."
Footsteps. The soft squeak of latex being picked up. And then Hazel was back, and something cool and round was being pressed into Ivy's stomach, a gentle pressure that made her gasp. The purple punch balloon, still warm from the walk, was pushed beneath her, cradled between her belly and the mattress. The latex was taut, the sphere pressing up against her, lifting her hips slightly.
"Stay." Hazel's voice was a command. "Don't move."
Ivy heard the harness being fastened, the quiet grunt as Hazel adjusted the straps. Then the bed dipped, and Hazel's weight settled behind her, and the tip of the silicone cock pressed against Ivy's entrance, slick with lube Hazel must have already applied.
"You teased me for an hour," Hazel said, her voice soft and fierce. "Made me come in front of strangers. Made me feel like the dirtiest girl in the world."
Ivy's breath hitched. "You liked it."
"I loved it." Hazel pushed forward, the cock sliding into Ivy inch by inch, and Ivy's fingers curled into the sheets. "But now it's my turn."
The balloon shifted beneath her as Hazel thrust, a soft pressure against her belly that moved with each stroke. Ivy's mouth opened, a sound escaping her that she didn't recognize. Hazel's pace was relentless, her hips slapping against Ivy's ass, the cock driving deep and harder with each thrust.
"You're so wet," Hazel said, her voice rough. "You got this wet watching me come in a park?"
"Yes." Ivy's voice was barely a whisper. "God, yes."
Hazel leaned forward, her chest pressing against Ivy's back, her mouth finding Ivy's ear. "I'm going to fuck you until you squirt. And then I'm going to make you do it again."
The balloon was a constant presence beneath her, the latex slick against her skin, the sphere rolling slightly with each thrust. Ivy's teeth found the rubber band, the ring where it was tied, and she pulled, stretching the rubber band taut between her teeth. The balloon's resistance was a counterpoint to Hazel's rhythm, a tension that built with every stroke.
Hazel's hand slid between Ivy's legs, her fingers finding Ivy's clit, pressing hard. Ivy's hips bucked, the balloon shifting, and she bit down harder on the rubber band. It was warm and smooth against her tongue, and she could feel the pressure building in her core, a wave that was rising faster than she could control.
"I'm going to come," Ivy gasped, the words muffled by the balloon. "Hazel, I'm—"
"Do it." Hazel's voice was a command. "Come for me. Now."
Ivy's body obeyed, her cunt clenching around the cock, her hips grinding against the balloon. A gush of wetness flooded out of her, soaking the sheets, the latex, her thighs. She heard herself cry out, a sound that was almost a sob, and felt Hazel's hand press harder, drawing out every pulse of her orgasm.
And then Hazel was coming too, a strangled moan as her hips stuttered, her body shuddering against Ivy's back. Ivy felt the warmth of Hazel's release, felt it mix with her own, felt the balloon beneath them shift and strain.
The pop was sudden, sharp, a burst of air that made them both jump. The balloon had given way, the latex torn apart from where Ivy had bitten it on impulse, and for a moment they lay tangled in the wreckage, breathing hard.
Then Hazel laughed. A real laugh, surprised and delighted, her forehead pressing against Ivy's shoulder blade. "Did you just bite through the balloon?"
Ivy laughed too, the sound shaky and raw. "I think I did."
Hazel pulled out slowly, the cock sliding free, and collapsed beside Ivy. They lay facing each other, the shredded balloon between them, the sheets a mess of cum and sweat.
"That was incredible," Hazel said, her voice soft, her eyes bright.
Ivy reached out, her fingers tracing Hazel's jaw. "You're incredible."
They kissed, slow and deep, the taste of each other mingling with the faint rubber scent of the popped balloon. Outside, they heard Pebbles quack, a soft contented sound, followed by the splash of water as he drank from his dish almost sitting on it.
Hazel pulled back, a grin spreading across her face. "He's having a good day."
"He is walked a duck, watched his moms get freaky with a balloon, and now he's hydrating." Ivy kissed her again. "Living the dream."