Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Long Weekend's Journey into Rubber 3

by Anymouse

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© Copyright 2009 - Anymouse - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/m; latex; outdoors; rainwear; shave; catsuit; bond; sex; oral; anal; toys; cons; X

continued from part 2

Part 3

I lay there quietly alongside her, thinking furiously. What would Jenny have said? How involved was I going to get? What was it that had caused the explosion of lust?

The last question was easy: Lisa was one sexy lady, and I, although I hadn’t thought about it, was ready for sex again. Well, maybe I had thought about it, but I’d repressed it (it’s the early part of the male mid-life crisis – later on, you’re apt to think about it too much, and go out and make a fool of yourself with much younger women).

As for Jenny, I think she’d have said “Go for it, tiger”. I can honestly say that that’s what I’d have said to her, if the positions were reversed. We hadn’t been married long enough to have got round to talking about what would happen if the other died, but one of the great things about our marriage was that we seemed to share identical views on everything. One thing we hadn’t had in our marriage was ‘creative tension’ – Ha! Instant divorce, more like.

So that left; ‘how involved was I going to get?’ To that, I had no answer; and anyway, Lisa might have thoughts on the matter. And where did rubber come into it? So far, my experience was about six hour’s theory and practice, ever since I put those latex briefs on. All I knew was that she was into rubber and latex in a big way, and bondage. And I had certainly enjoyed the experience of being dressed, and the feel of the rubber and latex on my skin.

My musings were interrupted by Lisa’s opening her eyes and sitting up.

“Oh.h.h! I needed that; I needed that. Thank you, Andrew.”

I smiled at her and spoke softly.

“Any time, any time at all. You’ve made me realise what I’ve been missing.”

“Me, too. Oof, I must go to the bathroom – don’t go away.”

She sat up, shook her skirt out, and disappeared. I heard splashing in the bathroom, then she came back – she’d taken her hood off and let her hair down. She said; “I imagine you’d like to clean yourself up, wouldn’t you. Well, you’re still under my direction, so what I want you to do is, take your hood and shirt off and give them to me, then go to the bathroom, take off the cat suit and your briefs, clean yourself up, then put the cat suit back on again – I’m sure you can manage that – leave the ball-stretcher on – I like to see my men well-hung.”

Do you know, I’d forgotten about the ball-stretcher – shows that it couldn’t have been too uncomfortable. I did as she suggested. In the bathroom I took off my gloves, and got myself out of the cat-suit, and my briefs. Lisa poked her head in through the door and giggled.

“Oh, there it is again. No damage? I suggest you use these kitchen gloves” – she passed in the pair of Marigolds we’d used while dressing – “and gently wash the inside of your briefs with soapy water; then leave them over that towel on the rail there.”

I took me about fifteen minutes to strip, wash myself and my briefs, and re-dress myself in the cat suit. As I left the bathroom, she called me from the living room, “Put your cape on, and come along”

I went along and she gave me a scotch.

“There, you deserve that – so do I.”

We sat, and sipped quietly for about two minutes, then she said, “Well, how was your first experience in rubber? I have to say, I didn’t particularly intend it to end the way it did, though I sort of hoped it might.”

“I don’t know how to separate the rubber from the sex,” I replied.

“Well, in that case, are you prepared to try a night of rubber without sex?”

On my present high, how could I say no? So I didn’t.

“Well, you can sleep on the bed in the play room. Finish your drink, and come along.”

In the play room, she took a duvet with a plain white latex cover from the cupboard, and two red latex-covered pillows.

“There you are, all ready. I suggest you dress yourself as you want – help yourself to anything from this end of the wardrobe. For your first time, I suggest nothing too tight.”

She gave me a peck and a smile, and left, shutting the door behind her.

I went over to the wardrobe – which was three built-in cupboards running the length of the wall, with, as I said, mirrors along their fronts. The right-hand section was obviously Lisa’s: the middle section had shelves containing small items, while the left-hand contained male items. I shunted the items along the rail looking for something suitable: I saw the full cat-suit, and some other items, including the shirt I’d worn earlier, but in the end, following Lisa’s advice, settled for a looser version of the shirt – really an old-fashioned night-shirt.

The aroma of rubber filled the room. It was obvious that Lisa and her ex had a complete latex lifestyle – and what it must have cost, I didn’t like to think. I’d got an idea of the cost of some of the items from following the links when I looked at Gromet’s Plaza. But, I was getting hooked, not a doubt.

So, on with the ‘night-shirt’ – a tasteful dark green colour, with wide-ish sleeves, press-studs at the neck, which came down to mid-thigh. I took the ball-stretcher off – a moment of exquisite agony – and slid in under the duvet. I was surrounded by rubber, my nostrils were filled with the scent, and I had to exercise all my will-power not to get a hard-on and cum, just from the latex. Well, I tried, but it didn’t really work. I got the hard-on, but by gripping the base of my cock I managed to prevent a spontaneous ejaculation.

After ten minutes – or so it seemed, but was probably only about three, I gained control of my senses, and relaxed. The feelings were still there, but I managed to be a bit more objective about them: almost as if I was a psychiatrist listening to a patient telling him how he felt. After another five minutes I turned out the light, and went to sleep.

I awoke refreshed, with sunlight outside the windows. The way the latex slithered sensually over my body, awoke my other senses, too, and my penis started to become erect. Before it could reach full erection, I decided I’d better go to the bathroom, while the going was good. Which I did, and washed as well. As I came out, Lisa’s door opened, and she came out wearing a pink latex baby-doll nightie, under which she had a pair of knickers. In her hand, she had another pair of knickers in midnight blue, which clearly had a dildo inside them.

“Sleep well?” she said.

“Yes, indeed”, I replied.

“Well, I’m just going to get dressed, and make some coffee: come through as soon as you are ready, and we’ll talk about what we might do today.”

She smiled, and like that very old song about “the sunshine of your smile”, suddenly the whole world seemed a brighter place.

My mind brought back my thoughts of yesterday – How far was I going to get involved? Lisa clearly had ideas of her own. Did I want to get involved with any woman? – especially one whose lifestyle, to say the least, seemed eccentric. And suddenly, it hit me like a lightning bolt: yes, I did want to get involved. For too long I’d been the staid accountant: I’d been lucky to be happy with one woman: if fate or the gods had taken her away, why shouldn’t I try to find happiness again with another – particularly since she seemed to be attracted to me. I didn’t suppose she’d have reacted the same way to any man who helped her out of a tight spot. It was The Rubberist which had done the trick.

Well, if I was going to get involved, I’d better make a start. I went back to the play room, delved in the cupboard, and came up with a crotchless latex leotard and some black rubber flip-flops. A bit of powder on my torso, on with the leotard, and over it the cape from last night. This time, I put the hood (an open-faced one) up as well, and went along to the kitchen.

Lisa looked round as I entered, and said, “Oh, you’re still trying, are you?

“Yes”, I said, “I am, I’m hooked: both on you and rubber and latex – in that order. I haven’t ever met anyone like you, and right now I feel I want to start a relationship with you. It hit me, just now, like a fist in the solar plexus. And rubber makes me feel good and sexy in a way I never knew I could feel – and finally, it seems to me that I like what I know about your lifestyle. If you’re prepared to have me as an apprentice, both as lover and rubberist, it’s what I want.”

There was a small breakfast bar in the kitchen, and Lisa sat down with her coffee, and pushed a mug over to me.

“Wow! That was quite some speech – for an accountant. You’re sure?”

“I was never more sure.”

“Gosh! You’ve taken me slightly aback, but I can make my mind up as quickly as you can. I like you – you seem genuine and honest, and I think I can probably really get you hooked on rubber and latex, so that we can enjoy it together. So, let’s make this a whole rubber week-end, when I’ve got the chores out of the way. First thing, I’ve got a pupil coming at ten, but after that, the rest of the week-end is a blank – well, it’s just got filled. OK?”

“Yes, fine,” I replied.

“OK, then, after breakfast, I suggest you go home, sort out anything you have to do there, and come back for eleven o’clock – and don’t be too early, I don’t want my pupil’s mother to see you coming in – it’s not that I mind gossip, I don’t give tuppence for what anyone thinks – but I don’t want to arouse any one’s curiosity – I value my privacy out here. I mean, look at the result of the bin-men dropping that copy of The Rubberist. Just bring yourself – oh, and your shaving gear – that’s all.”

We sat in companionable silence for fifteen minutes – I ate a bowl of cereal and some toast, Lisa just had some bread and honey. I sat and admired her. She was wearing a blue latex housecoat with latex ruffles from neck to hem. When she got up to get some more coffee, I could see a flash of the midnight blue knickers, and a matching bra.

After a quarter of an hour, I rose, and she said: “Leave the dishes – off you go now. I want to tidy things up a bit before young James comes, and make myself presentable. Remember, don’t come back before eleven – in fact, better make it quarter-past.”

I suppose I must have looked disappointed, because she leaned over and gave me another deep kiss, saying: “Don’t worry, I’ve got one or two things to do for both our pleasures”.

I smiled, and said;

“Oh, but I’m glad you don’t smoke.”

“What! What’s that got to do with anything?”

I just said: “Have you ever kissed a smoker? It’s like licking an ashtray that hasn’t been emptied for a week.”

She chuckled and said: “Oh well, there’s one thing we’ve got in common.”

I went back to the play room, took off the cape and hung it in the cupboard. I left the leotard on, and found some latex socks, which I powdered and put on. Then I found my everyday clothes, put them on, and left: Lisa was splashing in the bathroom when I went.

At home, I answered a couple of e-mails, and some voice-mail, and put a note out for the milkman telling him not to deliver on Monday. I went to the bathroom, showered and shaved. My latex leotard was so like a second skin that it wasn’t until I was in the shower that I realised I hadn’t taken it off. So, I didn’t bother, but just dried it carefully when I’d finished showering, and took my hair dryer – if I have one vanity, it’s my wavy hair, which I wash twice a week – and played it down inside the leotard: easy enough for the front but I had to be a bit of a contortionist to get it down, and up, the back.

Then I remembered, I had a pair of black rubber riding boots in a cupboard under the stairs. (Jenny and I had both learned to ride when we were children – it was one of the interests we shared – and we had gone on a riding holiday on Exmoor the year before … . I dug them out, pulled them on, with my trousers outside them, and then I was ready. I took a last look at Jenny’s photo, and said “You’re still with me, my love”, and I heard her voice – but a great way off – “I know, but – go for it, tiger!” Then it was time to go back to the present, and Lisa. It had been a bright, sunny, morning, but as I walked the track back to the Lodge, a bank of cloud started to cross the sky from the north-west, and as I reached Lisa’s door, the first raindrops started to fall.

She let me in, and said, “Now, first thing, before the rest of the week end, is some lunch – and we’re going out. Two reasons: one, I haven’t any food in the house, and two, you need to get used to being rubbered up in public, so we’ll go to the shopping centre to get some food and one or two other things, then we’re going to my favourite pub.”

My jaw dropped, I hadn’t expected this. Lisa said, “Like I said yesterday, our bodies are our own, to do what we like with. So, what’s so unusual about rubber? – on a day like today it’s entirely practical.”

She looked me up and down – I just had a lightweight anorak over my ordinary clothes.

“Oh, I see you’ve got some rubber boots – well, that’s a good start. Go and put that shirt you had yesterday, and you’ll find a pair of rubber jeans in the cupboard. Over that the cape, and there you are – you’re protected against the rain.”

Lisa herself had a figure-hugging purple rubber dress, knee-length, with a scalloped neck. It wouldn’t have attracted any particular notice on the street, except for its sheen. Her eye-make up was fairly heavy, and matched the colour of the dress.

I went back to the playroom, dropping my shaving gear in the bathroom as I went. I did as Lisa told me (which, it turned out, was going to be the pattern of the week-end), and went back to the front door. By this time, it was pouring down, and Lisa appeared in her blue Macintosh, pulling up the hood. She handed me a rubber sou’wester, saying “You’ll need that, too.” She opened the door, I went out, and she followed, slamming the door as she went.

As soon as I was outside, I could feel, hear, the rain falling on the cape, and starting to run down in rivulets. Lisa opened the garage door, and backed her car out, waving me to shut the door behind her. I did, and hopped in. She even had rubber covers on the car seats.

We drove down the track where I’d first seen her, and turned towards the little shopping centre. We parked, and Lisa said, “I’m going to get some groceries, you’d better go and get some condoms.”


“You’re going to need them – no point in making a mess every time you cum, now, is there?”

“But … I haven’t got any cash – there aren’t any pockets in this gear”.

“Oh my”, she giggled, “nor there are. I was going to say, ‘Men! Typical!’ Oh well, here’s a tenner, don’t go mad with it.”

I bolted across to the chemist, found what was needed and took the pack to the cashier. It was an elderly man, who looked at the pack, then at me, and said, “Sort of makes it complete, doesn’t it?” I turned brick-red, gave him the cash, and ran back to the car.

Lisa came with two bags of groceries in about five minutes, sauntering across the pavement as though everything was quite ordinary (which it was to her, of course – and anyway, her Macintosh was not particularly way out – and most people were hurrying along, heads down, and would scarcely have noticed if she’d been in a suit of armour. But with the cape and sou’wester I looked like Darth Vader).

Lisa got into the driving seat again, and we set off. She said; “I’m going to take you out to the ‘King’s Oak’ at Badsey”, she said. “You’ll like it, and you can really prove how waterproof your cape and hat are. It’s a walker’s pub, mostly, for people walking the Mid-Anglian Way. There’s no car park there, and we have to park at the foot of the brow, and walk up to it. I doubt if there’ll be many people there today.”

The pub was exactly how she described it, just below the crest of the hill. We walked up the rise, the rain drumming off our coverings, with the gullies along the trackway running fast with water. It was about half-past twelve when we reached the pub, and as we came up to the crest, a blast of wind met us, blowing the rain horizontally into our faces - but not a drop entered my cape. We stood in the porch, and dripped on to the mat, and the nearness of her, and the rubber smell emboldened me, and I seized her shoulder, and gave her a deep kiss, my tongue probing into her mouth. She closed her eyes and kissed me back, and whispered, “Oh good, I thought you never would.”

When we went in, there was only a damp-looking couple, clearly walkers, who were seeking shelter from the weather as much as anything. Lisa put her hood back and the landlord greeted her as a regular, and then said, “Who’s your friend, Lisa – Darth Vader?

“Now don’t try to be funny, Kev, it doesn’t suit you. Take your hat off, Andrew” – she giggled – “actually, Kev, you’re right, he does look like Darth Vader – I never really noticed. Anyway, Kev, this is Andrew, and yes, he is my friend. He saved me from setting my house on fire last week.”

“What? How did that happen?”

“I’m not going to tell you, it would make me even sillier than you think most women are. Give me a half of lager and - Andrew …?”

“Mine’s a pint of the same, please.”

Kev moved along the bar to the handles.

“Stella or Foster’s?”

Lisa and I replied simultaneously, “Foster’s”. I said, “Well, that’s another shared taste.”.

Kev said, “You going to eat?”

“You bet” said Lisa, “we’re going to need our strength.”

She positively grinned at me, and spoke in a soft voice – “well, you are.”

I think it’s the third time I’ve said this, but I really had never met a woman like Lisa. She could drop suggestive remarks, or a plain sexual invitation, into the conversation, just as though she was discussing the weather. OK, she wasn’t an ingénue, but even so, most women, or all the women I’d ever met, were far more modest. But I was getting to like it. You knew where you were with Lisa – she had called a fuck a fuck yesterday. (I found out later that she had joined the Wrens when she was 18, but had left two years later when they were integrated with the male Navy – she said she enjoyed what she was doing, and the easy camaraderie with the sailors with whom she worked ashore, but she didn’t fancy life on board ship.)

Kev said, “Go and sit over in that corner, I’ll bring your drinks over in a sec. And the menu is up there on the board.”

We went over to the table, and Lisa unbuttoned her Mackintosh, and I unzipped the top of the cape. We both looked at the board, but under the table her hand moved over to my crotch, and things started to spring to life.

Kev brought the drinks over, and Lisa said, “First things first”. Then, as an afterthought, “Well, first things until a little later.”

Kev said, “What can we cook for you, then?” Lisa looked at me enquiringly.

“Can I have some whitebait as a starter, and then some spare ribs to follow.”

Lisa said, “I’ll have the ribs, too, and bring two sets of cutlery for the whitebait – I’m going to have one or two of Andrew’s.”

She resumed her stroking of my crotch, and I put my hand on to hers – but the dress was so tight that I couldn’t really finger her properly. But she sat there with a half smile on her lips, until my finger drew a squeak from her rubber, and the walking couple looked over at us wondering what on earth … Lisa moved away, well, not that much, and said, instead, “Let me tell you what I’ve got planned for day two of your introduction to rubber. First of all, we’re going to sort out your balls.” She giggled again. “I just mean deal with your bush. And I think we’ll do your legs as well, while we’re at it. But we’ll leave the rest of your body.”

“Then, I’m going to dress you properly. After that, we’ll see – if you’re game, I’m going to try a little bondage on you – see how you like it. I find it can be a turn on, both self-bondage, and as a couple.”

At this point, Kev brought over the whitebait, and I started in on it. Lisa picked up the second fork to prong one, but I took the fork from her, and fed it to her. She bared her teeth, and took it delicately off the end of the fork. Then she bent down under the table and I heard, rather than felt her unzipping my cape from the bottom (it had a two way zip). She sat up, moved a little closer, and I felt her hand on my groin again. We ate the rest of the whitebait that way, with her left hand tickling my balls down below, while I fed her whitebait, one at a time, above.

When a girl from the kitchen brought out the ribs, Lisa moved away again (shame – I was beginning to like it!), the better to use both hands on the ribs. We ate the ribs using both our hands, and I think we must both have had the same idea at once. Lisa said “Tom Jones”, and I said “Yes, Albert Finney and Joyce Redman.” And we both roared with laughter.

Have you ever seen that film ‘Tom Jones’? It was made back in the sixties, before either of us was born, but it gets trotted out about every five years when the TV programmers are short of a period piece – it has been described as a “bawdy romp”, which it is: great fun. The point of all this is that there’s a scene in it (Google “Tom Jones – film”, and then click on “Video results for Tom Jones”, and again on “Lusty eating scene”) which shows you exactly what we were like.

We finished the ribs, and Lisa said, “Time we got down to business”. So we stood up; I zipped myself up, top and bottom and she belted, buttoned and strapped herself up. Then she paid, and we went out into the wind and rain, she pulling her hood up, and me pulling on the sou’wester.

We fairly ran down the hill, pushed by the wind, and drove back as fast as the weather would allow. She put the car away, and we went into the lodge. She said, “Take off the cape and hang it by the back door in the kitchen – you’ll see there’s a special hook over a drain.” Now that’s attention to detail for you. With ordinary cloth rainwear, your coat just gets heavier and heavier as the material absorbs the wet, and you spread it out to dry by evaporation (that is, unless you’re like me, when I tend to hang it up in the cupboard regardless, so that it makes things damp – Jenny used to chide me, but I hadn’t really improved) but rubber is always going to drip, and drip all over the mat, or whatever: but Lisa had had a special place with a built in drain in her kitchen.

She followed me into the kitchen, and hung her Macintosh in the same place, then said, “Right, you, strip, then bathroom.”

I went into the playroom to find that there was a lot of latex laid out on the bed – Lisa had obviously had time to make some preparations when I went home in the morning. I did as I was told, and went back to the bathroom, where Lisa was waiting for me. She had taken off her dress, and was wearing just her knickers and bra, and a matching hood. The bra had peep-holes for her nipples, and the hood was a full-faced one, with eye, nose and mouth holes with silver trim, giving a devilish look to her eyes..

She gave me a similar hood, saying: “One of the joys of hoods and masks is that you can be anonymous. This isn’t Lisa and Andrew any more, it’s just two rubberists, about to enjoy their rubber and latex. I hope you know just a little bit about me to realise that I like being in charge, but I would never, never, harm my partner. Are you content to let me take total charge of our games?”

I’d allowed her to lead me this far, and yes, I did think she was trustworthy, so I said,

“Yes, Miss Lisa.”

She smiled at that – and said,

“Right, yes; in our games you can call me Miss Lisa, when I give you the opportunity. Now, stand over there.”

She pointed to the shower cubicle. I pulled the hood over my head, and settled it: it was a plain, shiny black one with similar eye nose and mouth holes to hers. She found my razor and shaving cream, and creamed all round my genitals and worked it up to a lather with my brush. Then she took the razor and started to shave my belly from the navel down. She ran the shower gently, and wetted my face-cloth and wiped my belly as she went. When it came to my balls and prick, she went rather more carefully (thank Heavens – though any injury might have frustrated her as much as it damaged me!).

After that, she took a large tube of proprietary hair remover, and applied it to my thighs and lower legs. Then she said, “And we’ll get rid of the last traces here, as well” and smeared it round my cock and balls.

“Now, turn round, and bend over”; I did, and she parted my arse cheeks, and smeared it in my crack and around my anus.

It’s funny, but somehow, I’d managed not to get more than half-hard while all this was going on. I suppose, when you know that the manipulation is not for sexual purposes, something switches off in your brain.

After ten minutes, she stood me inside the shower, and washed me down from my waist to my feet. And there I was naked and cool.

She said, “Dry yourself, then powder yourself top to toe - there’s the glove to help you do it. When you’ve done that, then go next door, and wait for me.”

So ten minutes later, looking rather like a naked miller (except for the hood), I stood in the middle of the play-room waiting for my lover – yes, because we’d made love – and my mistress – someone who would introduce me to untold sexual delights.

When she entered, I gave a gasp – she was in an all-over catsuit the same midnight-blue colour as her underwear and hood, with knee length boots to match. Like the ankle boots yesterday, the heels weren’t excessively high, but added two or three inches, and gave her a more commanding presence. Her waist was cinched in by a corset in the same colour, with silver trim like the hood, and it was clear that she meant business.

“Ball-stretcher first” she said, and repeated the process we’d gone through yesterday.

“Now, a proper catsuit”, she said, pulling at a footed leg, and a catsuit slithered out of the heap on the bed, and plopped at our feet. She ran the zip down to the base of the back, and indicated that I should put my left foot in. Then my right followed, and she worked the suit up to the top of my thighs, with the rest of the suit hanging down in front of me. At this point, I noticed that this suit was slightly different from the half-suit I’d worn yesterday. Instead of a built-in cock-and-ball sheath, this had a reinforced hole, about an inch in diameter.

That’s for the whole shebang”, she said, “cock and balls.”

She pulled the suit up a little further, then reached two fingers in through the hole from the front, and distended it, then put a third finger in and grasped my penis and pulled it through the hole. Then, two fingers again, and she worked my balls out through the same hole, and when they were through, withdrew her fingers, and settled the ring in the suit above the ball stretcher, and immediately against my skin.

She fitted the waist of the suit around my waist, and then barked, “Arms.”

I put first one, then the other, into the sleeves, which ended in gloves. Lisa settled my fingers right into the fingers, then drew the suit up around my shoulders, and zipped the suit up to between my shoulder blades. Then she took my hood off, remarking, “As you can see, this suit has its own full face hood, so you won’t be needing the other one – but we’ll go back to that open-faced one you had yesterday.”

She found it amongst the heap on the bed, and pulled it over my head, remarking, “I don’t like men with shaved heads, but hair does get in the way of zips, so we’ll use this instead. “

She felt round each cheek for my ears, and popped something into each of them. “Ear-defenders”, she said, “to stop you from being distracted by sounds.”

I could hear her, but only just. She flattened my ears against my head and gently pushed my head forward and down into the face of the suit’s hood, which had similar eye, nose and mouth openings to the other one. Then she pulled the sides of the hood together behind my head, and seized the zipper between my shoulders and ran it up to the crown of my head. There was a click, and Lisa said, “There, you won’t get out of that until I let you”, and she showed me a little padlock key.

Next, she said, “Where did I put those condoms we got this morning? Oh yes, I remember.”

And she left the room, returning in a minute with a single condom which she had already taken out of its packet. She slowly and sensuously placed it over the end of my cock which was wholly erect by this time, and rolled it down the length of the shaft, licking her lips as she did so. It was incredibly sexy. Then she took a black cock and ball sheath, and inserted my prick into it, and then tucked my plum-coloured balls and their ball-stretcher into the ball sack. By this time, I was rock-hard.

“That way”, she said, “we don’t have to undress you each time you want to have a pee.”

“Now, one more thing, and you’re complete”. She found a wedge-shaped block of rubber, and before I could protest (would I have?) jammed it into my mouth, and secured the straps at its base to buckles on my hood each side of the mouth.

“Now” she said, “I said we’d try a little light bondage”, and she produced two wrist cuffs and two ankle cuffs. “Hold your hands out”.

I obediently did as I was told, and she buckled them on. Lisa, Miss Lisa, I should say, pulled the duvet off the bed, taking with it the rest of the heap of rubber and latex, and gave me a push, so that I fell across the bed, and she padlocked each wrist to one of the posts at the head of the bed. I didn’t resist, why should I? – this was a game, and I was a willing participant. Then she seized one ankle after the other, and did the same at the foot of the bed. So there I was, an anonymous black latex figure, rather like I’d seen her six days ago – Great Heavens, was it only six days?

“Now”, she said, “let’s put that lovely hard-on to some use – I’ve been aching for it for the last two hours.”

There was no foreplay – well, how could there be? : my mouth was gagged, and I couldn’t use my hands. She took some KY jelly from the bedside table, and applied it lovingly to my rigid prick. She undid the zip at the crotch of her suit, took her finger, and applied a little to her own labia.

The she knelt astride my groin and slo.o.owly lowered herself. I thought, ‘I’m just a thing, now’. Then I thought, ‘Sod it, I don’t mind,’ so I closed my eyes and thought of England – well, actually I thought of the countryside and milk-maids, because Miss Lisa was slowly rising and falling on my prick, with her muscles clenching and releasing for all the world like hands on a cow’s teats. I could almost hear the spunk squiring into the pail. Don’t take me too literally, I’m not that superhuman that I could come and come again on each stroke. In fact, I did turn my thoughts elsewhere, to stop myself from cumming before Miss Lisa did – but the sensation was exquisite – her warmth, her rhythm, her obvious pleasure in herself. (I couldn’t hear, but I could see, and I could see her mouth opening and closing as she panted, and the lost look in her eyes as her gaze seemed to focus inside herself.)

She came – in how long? I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. But I could see her gasp and she slowed, and slumped, then lay on me, her head just under my chin. I could only just lie there, and will my feelings for her to come through our rubber skins, hoping that she’d know that in taking pleasure from me, she had given me pleasure – though I hadn’t yet come, and I was still hard inside her. It was the rubber and latex that did that.

After a couple of minutes she stirred, opened her eyes, and rolled off me – my prick sprang back to attention, and she said (I think, those ear plugs were pretty effective); “Ah! Oh, dear! I was so bound up in my own pleasure, I didn’t think about yours. Tell you what – I’ll take that gag out, and we’ll have a bit of 69.”

She unbuckled the gag, threw it away and climbed back on to the bed, and placed her vagina over my mouth. I tasted the sweetness of her juices, and she licked at the same juices on my sheath.

I explored all round her vagina, finding the nub of her clit, and flicking at it with my tongue. I gently bit and sucked at her labia, while she found the spot underneath the head of my penis which is my most sensitive spot. I was too occupied with my tongue up her passage to be able to say anything more than “arrgh” – which, believe me, can be said so that it sounds appreciative, and this time, we came together.


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