Squeak

by Vera Valentine

“Poppy, you’re safe, but we really need to talk.” He tilted his hips and nodded downwards, where his entire pelvic region–still locked into my own–had gone a deep royal purple. And translucent. I screamed.

It was a strange and beautiful happily ever after, and we made it our solemn mission–even after the heat ended–to find out all the ways that two balloons and an open-minded, mostly-human woman could twist themselves up in pleasure.