Love of Life Part 4
We arrived at our destination in Noord, Aruba. This would be our new playground for several weeks ahead. We were both looking forward to many hours and days in the sun in Aruba. We decided to look the place over before unpacking our baggage. It was a very spacious house. It was not as big as my firehouse home in Minneapolis, but it was certainly big enough, and the appointments were ideal. The outside was delightful. In addition to the two pools, there was a hot tub, an outdoor cooking area, and a private lounge area. The first thing Sherry wanted to do was strip down to her rubber suit and jump in the pool. I agreed to join her later, then proceeded to bring the baggage in from the car. I was sweating excessively as I carried the bags. For a moment, I questioned my choice in coming to Aruba. Aruba is hot. It is a desert island. The good news is that it is very arid and there is always a substantial breeze to keep you cool. Unfortunately, the breeze is only effective for cooling bare skin. If we are sealed up in rubber, the breeze will probably bring little relief. We would have to plan our outings carefully.
I dropped the bags off in the bedrooms. I chose the master suite as our playroom. Each of us had our own bedroom to change in. Sherry wanted to keep her rubber garments and accessories a secret. I stripped out of my street clothes to join Sherry. The water was cool but not cold. It felt cool enough to give some relief. I love the way the water compresses my rubber suit against my body. We must have splashed and played around in the water for at least an hour before stepping out. This time, the breeze helped. It had a chilling effect, blowing against our wet rubber suits. We decided to rest after the trip. We lay on the lounge chairs in the shade until we began to warm up again. Then we both jumped back in the water and stripped out of our rubber suits. We swam nude for about half an hour, then headed into the house to begin unpacking.
I slipped into a pair of rubber shorts, and Sherry found her transparent rubber wrap, and we each headed for our respective bedrooms and began unpacking. The rooms had big closets, so stashing our rubber items would not be a problem. It took each of us over an hour to unpack and store our rubber delights. We met in the master suite to properly prepare it for play. We stripped the bed and laid down heavy rubber sheets. Sherry produced some restraints that she quickly attached to the bed rails. That was her surprise. I unpacked and began to assemble mine. It was a smaller version of my vapor system, complete with an assortment of “interesting” scents. I attached it to the headboard. We both stood back, giggling at our choices, knowing that there was more to come.
We were hungry, and while the house was fully furnished, there was no food. We decided to go out, check out the island, buy some dinner, and then stock up on some food. We both dressed. I stayed in my rubber shorts, then added a t-shirt and cotton shorts. Sherry dressed in a bright yellow rubber bikini, the through on a floral print loose cover blouse, and cutoff jean shorts. We headed first to get a bite to eat. We found a little place on the water called the Bugaloe Beach Bar and Grill on the De Palma Pier. Sherry ordered a grouper salad, and I ordered the mahi mahi filet. We shared a platter of portia bitterballen with mustard. We ate and then walked on the beach for about an hour. Sherry removed her kimono blouse, revealing her yellow rubber bikini top. No one seemed to give notice except me. It turned me on, and if it was not for our need for supplies, I would grab her and immediately take her back to our playroom.
I calmed down and we headed back to the car. We then headed for the Noord supermarket and bought enough food and supplies to get us through the next few days. We then headed back to the house. Sherry disappeared, so I began unpacking the groceries myself. After half an hour, I finally finished and began looking for Sherry. I headed for the playroom suite only to find that Sherry had planned something special for us this evening. There on the bed was a double rubber vacuum bed, a hooded rubber suit, two gas masks, and various tubes and hoses. She left a note that said, “Put on your suit. I will join you in a bit. Get dressed, put on a gas mask, and slip into bed.”
I did as instructed. The suit was lubed and slid on easily. I pulled on the gas mask and tightened the straps. The first thing I noticed was that the eyeglasses were blacked out. I then slipped into the vac bed, which was also lubed, and waited. Soon, Sherry walked in and quietly started to hook up various hoses and tubes. Then she put on her gas mask and slipped in beside me. We hugged and held each other. She climbed on top of me and opened both of our access zippers. She pulled out my raging hard cock and slowly slid it into her. She moaned. It was at that moment that the vacuum fit, and we were sucked tight to each other. The movement was difficult, but the lube into the rubber bed allowed just enough for Sherry to move about enough to produce a slight amount of stroking motion. I was randy as hell and wanted to cum, but I realized that it might take hours at this rate. I began to think that was Sherry’s idea all along.
We continued to writhe and gyrate just enough to drive me nuts, but not enough to cum. I was then at the stage where two kicked in. My air was shut off. There was nothing. I sucked on my gas mask, mashing it to my face. This must have lasted for at least a full minute. By then, I began to jerk and squirm, becoming more and more violent as time went on. My violent motions were enough to bring Sherry to a crashing climax. She screamed into her gas mask, and suddenly, my air returned. I was gasping to breathe. It was then that I was hit with the disgusting smell of stale piss. I was retching. My gasping made it worse as I was gulping in the horrid smell. I began to catch my breath when the air shut off. Again, I began to buck and struggle, which brought Sherry to another climax. The air came back on. This time, I was smelling stale cum. It smelled sweeter than the piss but still disgusting. As before, I was greedily gulping cum-tasting air to regain my breath. Just when I caught my breath, it started to become harder to breathe as if the air supply was slowly shutting off. I could breathe, but I remained gasping for breath, sucking in the disgustingly vile smell of stale cum with each breath.
Everything stopped. Fresh air came in through my mask. I was awash with sweat. Sherry still clung fast to me. I tried to move enough in hopes that I could cum I desperately needed to. Instead, we just lay there. Sherry did not move, which meant I would not cum any time soon. Then it started again. My air was shut off. This time for what must have been at least two minutes. I went wild, and the wilder I went, the more Sherry came. No doubt, this was her evil plan all along. She started to buck and struggle and finally began to scream into her mask. My air returned just in time for me to orgasm. It seemed to go on forever. All I saw were stars, then I passed out.
When I came to, I was alone in the vac bed, still sucked tight in its embrace. Sherry was there alongside me outside the vac frame, gently caressing my body. Her hand slid down and began stroking my cock through the layers of slippery rubber. It did not take long for me to cum again. This time it was not as intense. Afterward, I just lay there in the afterglow with Sherry beside me. It was then that she leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Good night, my pet. Sleep tight.” My fate and my rubber-covered body were sealed tight within the rubber vac bed, and here I will stay until morning. Alarmed at first but knowing that Sherry was by my side, I suddenly relaxed and fell asleep.
I woke up to what smelled like roses. I was confused at the first intake. I realized that I was still masked, wearing a rubber suit, and sealed in a vac bed. I heard Sheryl’s voice saying. “Wake up, sleepy head. Time to show me the island.”
With that, the vacuum was released, and I was finally free of my rubber cocoon. I pulled off my mask and kissed Sherry. I said “Thank you,” and proceeded to work the stiffness out of my body after a night in the vac bed. The sweat in my inner suit was thigh deep, and I needed to clean up. I jumped in the shower and took off my suit. I toweled off and proceeded to dress for the day. Not knowing what to expect weather-wise, I chose to wear my rubber shorts again. I added a Tommy Bahama silk beach shirt and looked for my cotton shorts. “Sherry, did you see my cotton shorts?”
“Not today, honey. Today we treat the Arubans to some old-fashioned rubber.” With that, I joined her in the kitchen. I could not wait to see what she had planned to wear. I was not disappointed. She was wearing another rubber bikini, but this one was teal in color with a yellow rubber starfish-shaped appliqué on her left breast.
“Is that all you plan to wear?” I asked.
“No, I have something cool to slip over it.” She was making Hawaiian roll breakfast sliders and cappuccino for breakfast. “It’s a bit heartier than most, but we may need our entry for today,” she said with a glint in her eye.
Breakfast was great, and she wrapped her beach wrap and a basket of local fresh fruit, and we headed out. It was 86ºF/30ºC and sunny as usual. We got in the Jeep and turned on the air, knowing that once we were out of the car, things would heat up quickly. We headed down Route 1 South to the city proper. We drove through the various streets, enjoying the local color and remnants of old Dutch architecture. We decided to do something touristy and visit Fort Zoutman and the Willem III Tower. This would take us up to lunch, where I had something special planned.
The fort is the oldest remnant of Dutch architecture, completed in 1796. Fort Zoutman was named after a Dutch Rear Admiral who had outwitted a British convoy on the North Sea during the 4th British War. The tower is situated on what was then the shoreline and is armed with four cannons. The Willem III Tower was added to the Fort in 1868 as Aruba's first public clock and served as a lighthouse equipped with a spire and petrol lamp. We walked the grounds and took a tour of the fort. We enjoyed the tour, but even though we were only wearing a minimal amount of rubber, it was still hot. The good news is that no one paid any attention to it. We were back in the car and cooling off when we realized that it was noon and we needed to catch something to eat, and “Catch” is the keyword.
We headed for Zeerover’s, which is a classic fish house in the sleepy village of Savaneta. Zeerover is all about fresh, Aruban-style seafood. The place is open-air, cooled by ocean breezes. Their fish comes straight from the sea—in fact, you can watch from the restaurant’s perch on the pier as fishermen pull in their catch. The menu reflects whatever the boats bring in that day. The way it works is you buy your choice of seafood by the pound. It is great to mix and match. Then you buy a bucket full of cold bottled beer, and they cook your purchase and serve it to you out on their covered deck. Sherry loved it. We sat in the shade near the water, and those famous Aruba breezes did their job, keeping us cool.
I love the way the sunlight reflected off Sherry’s rubber-covered breast, and my mind suddenly changed from tourism to other pursuits. We finished eating, and we both came to the same conclusion. Let’s go back to the house and relax, and spend a quiet afternoon on the back deck. At least that was the plan. We drove back to the house. It took us about ten minutes. Once inside, I shed my shirt and Sherry her wrap, and we headed to lounge chairs on the deck. It was relatively cool in the shade. After some time, we both fell asleep. I was suddenly woken by a cold slash of water as Sherry jumped into the pool. I quickly joined her and we swam, splashed, and played for some time.
Once refreshed from our swim, Sherry and I headed back into the house. We both wanted to play but realized that, as yet, we had not unpacked all of our playthings, so we set to work unpacking and finished setting up our makeshift playroom. The work went on with enthusiasm as we went through each item fantasizing on how it would eventually come into play. It took us a couple of hours to sort through all our items. This included the items that Sherry and I chose to secretly bring for each other’s pleasure.
Sherry finished before I did. I looked for her and found her at the kitchen table rifling through various “Welcome to Aruba” brochures.
“Find anything interesting? I asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. Would you be interested in going out for the evening?”
I had to admit to myself that I had other plans, but decided to attempt to play along. “What did you have in mind?”
“Seems there is quite a voracious appetite for kinky stuff here in Aruba. I thought we might check one or two of them out while we are here.”
“Tonight?” I heard my voice crack.
“Why not. Then we can come back and play all night.”
I thought for a minute and then decided to calm my libido long enough to cater to Sherry’s wishes. “So what looks good?”
Sherry pushed a flyer in front of me with the heading ARUBA AFTER DARK. “According to this, they are having a gathering of kinks at the Renaissance Wind. I thought we could join them for a couple of hours, then come back and play.” She winked and grabbed my crotch to drive her point home. “Let’s get dressed.”
We headed off to our playroom and laid out some items to wear. Sherry did not like my choices, so she chose my sleeveless hero suit and my rubber Chuck Taylors. She chose a similar legless catsuit for herself. “Shall we go? she asked. “What, like this with nothing else?”
“Why not. We are over twenty-one. Let's show them how we do it in Minneapolis.” With that, we slipped into the car and headed for the Renaissance Wind.
It was about a ten-minute ride to the Renaissance. It is a large complex with a hotel and a casino. I wondered where we were supposed to go, especially dressed as we were. I could not imagine walking up to the desk in a busy hotel and asking, “Where is the fetish party?” We noticed a couple who seemed to be properly dressed for a kinky evening. We left our car and caught up with them. I hesitated to ask, but Sherry jumped in and said, “We are looking forward to the Aruba After Dark Party.”
“You came to the right place. My name is George, and this is June.” We introduced ourselves, and George said, “Follow us. We’ll get you to where all the fun is.” They explained that the party was at the cabanas on Renaissance Island and that we would be taking a boat to the island. Sherry and I looked at each other, both thinking that this seemed more intriguing by the minute.
The four of us reached the terminal and were about to board the boats when we were asked about our invitations. We told George and June that we were sorry, not knowing this was by invitation only. “No worries. You will be our guests,” and before we knew it, we were on the boat heading for Renaissance Island. It was a short ride to the island and a short walk to a group of three cabanas on the far end of the walkway. They were alive with activity, with about fifteen couples all dressed in a wide variety of exotic wear. At first glance, we seemed to be the only ones dressed in rubber, although there were a few couples in full leather who seemed to take notice of us. George and June introduced us to the group. They all seemed to welcome us with a great deal of enthusiasm; so much enthusiasm that it became unnerving as the evening went on. I was beginning to feel like we were new specimens rather than just new guests.
We worked our way through the crowd. Lots of them seem very interested in our rubber costumes. There was a lot of customary groping and fondling. We were used to this by now. About an hour into the evening, we met up with a couple in leather. They commented on our rubber outfits but did not seem as enamored as others in the group. They were more curious about our lifestyle than our dress.
We told them of some of our interests, and that we use the term “rubberist”. They seemed to know the term and began nodding to each other. They naturally asked us about the choice of rubber on a desert island. One of them asked, “Do you enjoy sweating a lot?” It seemed like an odd way to ask the question, “Isn’t it hot wearing rubber?” We laughed it off, saying it was part of the charm of wearing rubber. Again, the group started enthusiastically nodding at each other.
I was beginning to think that we were somehow part of an inside joke. I talked more when a barmaid came up and offered us a cool beverage. It was some tropical fruity drink. It was refreshing, so we drank it quickly. It did not hit us for a few minutes when it became obvious that there was something in the drinks besides fruit juice. Before we knew it, we were out cold.
When I finally woke up, I realized that I could not move. I also could not see or hear anything. I was gagged and could only grunt. The only sense I had was the sense of smell. There was a strong scent of leather. I sensed that I was still in my rubber and also wrapped in leather, perhaps a leather bondage sack complete with hood and straps. I began to protest, but all that came out were grunts and moans. Shortly after that, I heard another grunt from what I hope would be Sherry. My guess is she was in the same predicament as I.
As my mind began to clear, I realized that we were drugged and then bound and gagged in what is surely leather. The next question is, where are we? All I know is I am lying on my back, strapped so tightly that any movement is impossible. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. All of a sudden, I heard voices, then the doors slammed, then we seemed to be moving. We were in some kind of vehicle. At first, the ride was somewhat smooth, then it became rougher and rougher as we proceeded. Eventually, we were being tossed around like dolls on a trampoline. This went on for what seemed like forever. Eventually, we stopped. I heard voices again, then doors slamming, then what I assume was the trunk or tailgate of our vehicle open up.
It was then that I felt a tremendous heat begin to permeate my leather bondage. Little by little, the bondage sack began to get hotter and hotter. This did not look good. I was then dragged out of the vehicle and laid on a hard surface. The top side of my bondage sack was beginning to heat up. I was beginning to swelter in my rubber and leather layers. My bottom was cooler than my top, so I assume I might be outside in the sunlight. Next, I heard voices again and faint grunts, which I assumed were Sherry being laid beside me on the same hard surface. Then everything went silent.
We lay there for quite some time. I was beginning to bake in this intense heat. All of a sudden, I heard water splashing on my bonds. It was somewhat cool. It was a welcome feeling. The water kept coming until the point where the leather was saturated. Then I heard a voice say, “Enjoy your day in the hot sun. By tonight, these leather bindings should begin to tighten up, squeezing you two down to nothing. Who knows if you will survive being gradually crushed by this unforgiving leather? Oh, and by the way. Last night, you said you did not mind sweating in your rubber. I hope that’s true. Have fun.” With that, the voices were gone.
For the moment, the water cooled off my leather bondage sack, but it was not long before it again heated up. I was sweltering in my bondage layers. The heat was unbearable. After some time, I began to realize that the heat was not all I needed to worry about. The sack was beginning to shrink. It began to squeeze me tighter and tighter, constricting me to the point it was beginning to become painful. The bondage sack was crushing me. This was the purpose. Someone had decided this would be our fate, but who would go to such lengths as to deliberately allow us to perish here in the hot sun? This was too well planned. This was a calculated setup just for us. It was not a random act based on our chance meeting with a group of locals.
The pain of the crushing leather bondage bag forced my attention back to my situation. I was still being brutally squashed; however, I began to feel some areas beginning to loosen. Was this my imagination, a hopeful illusion? No, it was real. While the leather continued to shrink, the laces did not. They began to pull apart. Before long, they let loose. Far from free, I began to struggle. The more I struggled, the looser the laces became. Finally, I was able to move one arm enough to reach my neck and undo the knot holding the laces. I was finally able to wriggle out of my bag. I was free. I ran to Sherry’s side and began to tear at her laces. She was not moving. I feared I was too late. I ripped her out of the leather bag. She was unconscious but still breathing. I looked around and began to realize where we were. We were on what is known as the “wild side” or desert side of the island. This is a barren, sandy, deserted area forming the island's east side. We were miles from the inhabited side. We were a long way from help.
Fortunately, we were near the shoreline. The water was about a hundred yards to our east. I grabbed Sherry in my arms and rushed her toward the water. All the while, the sun was baking me in my black rubber suit. I was trudging through the hot sand. I was not sure I could make it. I stumbled several times but somehow managed to get up and keep going. We reached the water, and I ran out into the surf. Finally, we were in the cool turquoise waters of the Caribbean. We plunged into the water, finally able to cool off. We floated for a few moments, then I tried to revive Sherry. I feared I was too late and she might have succumbed to the heat. Finally, she started to come around. The cool water had revived her. She was crying, hugging me with all the strength she had left in her. We floated neck deep in the water for at least half an hour, trying to figure out what our next move would be. Returning to the hot sun dressed in black rubber would put us back in peril. Our best bet was to wait here in the cool water until sunset, and then try somehow to make our way back to the populous side of the island.
After what seemed like an hour, the sun began to set. By now, the water was becoming chilly, so we decided to try to exit and begin to trek back to the city. It was then that we began to see the lights of a vehicle approaching. It was a Jeep. They left it running with the light on. They were no doubt back to see what became of us. By now, we would have surely been dead from the heat and crushing effect of our bondage. What they found was not what they expected. We had escaped. They immediately began to search the area with their flashlights. Fortunately, the light from their flashlights did not reach far enough to see us in the water. For some reason, they began to search in the direction of the city, apparently believing that we headed that way. This was our chance. We slowly exited the water and headed toward their vehicle. Unaware of our presence, we easily reach their Jeep. We quietly jumped in. I checked their position. They were a hundred yards or so behind us. I put the Jeep in gear and, with a blast of spraying sand, drove off, leaving two guys desperately running after us. Once out of range from our captors, I was able to find a trail that led us back to the north end of the island, guided by the light of the California Lighthouse.
We reached the road along the western shore and then drove down to our house. We had no keys, but we managed to break into the house and reset the alarm. We were exhausted. All we could manage to do was hug each other, thankful that we survived. We managed to make our way to the shower and finally remove our rubber suits. Our skins were pale and withered from the combination of heavy sweat and hours in salt water. We showered quickly and managed to make our way to our bed, where we collapsed.
Morning came. Sherry was still sleeping when I arose. I was a wreck. All my joints ached, and I recognized that this meant I was dehydrated. I began to sip on electrolyte sports drinks. I slowly began to recover. Once I regained my strength, I immediately began to try to piece together yesterday’s events. I did not doubt that we were meant to die by suffering an excruciating death by both heat exhaustion and being crushed to death in a leather sack. But who would do such a thing and why? To add to this, whoever it was knows we are still alive. What happens next? Are we still a target, or is it time to plan our own retribution?