So. Who’s to blame for my girlfriend’s new found obsession with rubber? That would be me. But anyway, what’s with this ‘blame’ thing? There’s no blame here. It’s the best thing I ever did.
Until she met me, Jade had never squeezed herself into a clinging latex dress. But I’ve been a devotee – a slave to the charms of latex, if you like (and I do) - for a long, long time.
OK, it’s also true that until recently I’ve only been on the periphery of the BDSM and fetish worlds. For most of the past 20 years I’ve lived in London. I’d been to a few of the clubs – Torture Garden several times, including two memorable New Year’s bashes, the Rubber Ball, Submission and one or two others. But that was over 10 years or more. And I’d never made it past the tourist stage. One of the crowd, milling around the stage during the shows and on the edges of the action in the play room. Hardly steeped in fetish.
But ever since I introduced Jade to rubber, we’ve been addicts.
Last night in bed, I wrapped her head in the folds of the long black rubber Samurai skirt I was wearing, cutting off her breathing and burying her face in lengths of glossy, shiny latex. When I came, she licked my cum off the ebony rubber.
It’s only one month since I brought back her first dress to try. It was from London, probably the perve capital of the world and it was green. Yep. Pea green, so she tells me. Not exactly the classic black rubber start, but then I’ve always believed it’s good to start the innocents slowly, gently. No latex hoods here. Not yet. That can wait. A week or so…
Jade took the dress and the latex knickers that went with it to the bathroom of the hotel we were in to change. She was nervous, that was obvious. I had to persuade her to put the knickers on as well, offering encouraging noises from the bed while trying to keep the note of anticipation and excitement out of my voice.
She was nervous, I was more nervous. This was my fantasy coming to life in front of my eyes. I’d bought these rubber clothes more than a week ago, flown with them across the Atlantic and waited, interminably, until at last the right moment (I hoped) had presentd itself in a hotel room in New York’s mid-town.
Now she was squeezing her to-die-for body into the rubber. What if she hated it? What if she thought I was a dirty little pervert? So what if I was?
Getting it on wasn’t any trouble. Like I said, this was a real sweet girly dress, with an oversized white satin bow at the top of the halter neck and a flouncy skirt. Pretty, as well as pervy.
Quietly, with just the occasional (gorgeous) sound of rubber spanking back against her skin, Jade put the dress – and the knickers - on. Then she left the bathroom and slowly walked across the room to the bed where I lay.
I didn’t have any latex shine to polish her new clothes, but I was already too turned on to worry about that. Only where the rubber slipped over Jade’s tits and taut stomach did it slick and suck to her milky skin. A pair of two-inch wide latex straps rising up from the swishy skirt offered the sole cover above her waist. They gripped her handful-sized boobs, making them even perkier than usual. ‘Pert’ doesn’t come close.
Her nipples, the buttons I love to bite and tug on every day, pushed at the thin glossy latex, making inviting rubber mounds. I licked them through the green, slippery material, smelling the rubber, taking it into my mouth, devouring it. I open my mouth wide, swallowing as much of her tit as possible, gorging myself on her flesh.
Jade relaxed. I could feel her getting turned on as my hands roamed her body. I gripped her ass through the thin material. I licked down the length of her beautiful body until my tongue found her latex-covered cunt.
As if in one of my many fetish-themed wet dreams, I licked her through the rubber, tasting the metal flavour of the latex as her shaved pussy heated up, getting wetter. It was - almost - with some reluctance that I slowly pulled the rubber to one side and buried my mouth in her wetness.
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Saturday, February 21, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Suspended
My girlfriend is a dominatrix. Not a pro, not even that experienced. But a dominatrix, nonetheless.
I wasn’t aware of her need to put her hands around my neck and choke me, or force my mouth onto the slippery, stiletto heel of her patent thigh boots when we first started seeing each other a few short months ago. But then, neither was she.
Where are we now? It’s a club buried in the after-hours basement of a New York City Chinese restaurant. My beautiful, butter-wouldn’t-melt 23-year-old baby is whipping the shit out of me. She’s taking me right to the edge. Maybe beyond. I could pass out here. I don’t think I could stand now if she released me. I don’t want her to release me. I don’t want her to stop.
I’m tethered to a giant, wooden St Andrews cross that dominates the centre room of this Far Eastern-style torture chamber. My arms are manacled over my head. The black rubber ball gag is straining in my drooling mouth while her oh so gentle fingers are easing their way, two at a time into the slippery, greasy hole that is my butt.
Her other hand is working my cock. Stiff, distended, pumped full and oozing glistening pre-cum, my dick has been wet all night from the red latex thong I’m strapped inside.
I want my latex-smothered dick in her mouth. I want my gasping mouth on her cunt. I want her stream of hot wet piss to fill my face, my nose, my eyes.
But then, when did it ever matter what I want …?
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I wasn’t aware of her need to put her hands around my neck and choke me, or force my mouth onto the slippery, stiletto heel of her patent thigh boots when we first started seeing each other a few short months ago. But then, neither was she.
Where are we now? It’s a club buried in the after-hours basement of a New York City Chinese restaurant. My beautiful, butter-wouldn’t-melt 23-year-old baby is whipping the shit out of me. She’s taking me right to the edge. Maybe beyond. I could pass out here. I don’t think I could stand now if she released me. I don’t want her to release me. I don’t want her to stop.
I’m tethered to a giant, wooden St Andrews cross that dominates the centre room of this Far Eastern-style torture chamber. My arms are manacled over my head. The black rubber ball gag is straining in my drooling mouth while her oh so gentle fingers are easing their way, two at a time into the slippery, greasy hole that is my butt.
Her other hand is working my cock. Stiff, distended, pumped full and oozing glistening pre-cum, my dick has been wet all night from the red latex thong I’m strapped inside.
I want my latex-smothered dick in her mouth. I want my gasping mouth on her cunt. I want her stream of hot wet piss to fill my face, my nose, my eyes.
But then, when did it ever matter what I want …?
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First Time Fetish
St. Jude came into my life on a pleasantly warm September evening; I’d gone to watch a friend’s band play at an LES hole-in-the-wall and he’d shown up to take pictures. I remember him as a slightly over-excited Brit with gorgeous blue eyes and a quick smile. A few hours, two bars and many drinks later found us wrapped around each other participating in my first orgy. What a way to meet the love of your life….
Fast-forward four weeks and you will find St. Jude and me curled up in bed on a Saturday morning in a very posh NY hotel. He had just returned from a business trip to London and I was wrecked from a 75+ hour work week spent producing a legal conference. Snuggled under the covers in our bathrobes, St. Jude produces the gifts he’d brought back for me and I set to work opening the packages, as always, careful not to rip any of the wrapping.
The first package reveals a collar made of rich brown harness leather and a bronze metal leash to go with it. The collar was stiff and smelled like a new saddle, rich and warm and comforting, a smell I knew. My excitement heightened and my mind started racing to guess what the other package contained. I tore into it…finding a pair of high-waisted pea green rubber underwear and a matching baby-doll dress which fastened around the neck with a white silk bow. I was a latex virgin and the material felt cold and slimy in my hands, an alien object, and I wondered what attraction it could hold for anyone. Paralyzed by my confusion, I offered St. Jude no reaction at all…looking back he must have been terrified. I eventually acquiesced to St. Jude’s urging to try on the dress, although I still maintained that the underwear was on no account going anywhere near me…it wasn’t my style…yet.
I wiggled the slick material onto my body, the coolness making my nipples instantly hard. Instead of the color of the dress giving me the pallor of a seasick boat passenger like I expected, it looked pretty against my ultra-white skin and blonde hair. With the bow tied around my neck, the dress made my tits look instantly fuller and perkier, two perfect round shapes revealed between a plunging neckline that reached almost to my belly button….it may actually be the most flattering dress I have ever worn.
I nervously emerged from the bathroom unsure of what to expect. St. Jude’s eyes traveled down the length of my body and back up again…he must have liked what he saw because he became hard almost instantly. I walked over to the bed and St. Jude pulled me on top of him. Then he was on top of me, one hand holding onto my hair, the other running over the latex, his tongue in my mouth. He ran his tongue down my neck, pausing only to bite me softly, and then took one of my nipples in his mouth and began to tease it. I arched my back, moaning softly, grabbing his head and pushing him harder onto my breast. By now the latex was hot, causing my skin to grow damp and stick to it. The underwear slipped back and forth against my soaking cunt, exciting me even more, and St. Jude groaned as I raked my red nails across his back, red welts rising in their wake. Wriggling out from beneath St. Jude I straddled him, the soaking wet latex now pressed against his cock. I pulled the underwear to the side and slid my pussy down onto his cock.
Read more!
Fast-forward four weeks and you will find St. Jude and me curled up in bed on a Saturday morning in a very posh NY hotel. He had just returned from a business trip to London and I was wrecked from a 75+ hour work week spent producing a legal conference. Snuggled under the covers in our bathrobes, St. Jude produces the gifts he’d brought back for me and I set to work opening the packages, as always, careful not to rip any of the wrapping.
The first package reveals a collar made of rich brown harness leather and a bronze metal leash to go with it. The collar was stiff and smelled like a new saddle, rich and warm and comforting, a smell I knew. My excitement heightened and my mind started racing to guess what the other package contained. I tore into it…finding a pair of high-waisted pea green rubber underwear and a matching baby-doll dress which fastened around the neck with a white silk bow. I was a latex virgin and the material felt cold and slimy in my hands, an alien object, and I wondered what attraction it could hold for anyone. Paralyzed by my confusion, I offered St. Jude no reaction at all…looking back he must have been terrified. I eventually acquiesced to St. Jude’s urging to try on the dress, although I still maintained that the underwear was on no account going anywhere near me…it wasn’t my style…yet.
I wiggled the slick material onto my body, the coolness making my nipples instantly hard. Instead of the color of the dress giving me the pallor of a seasick boat passenger like I expected, it looked pretty against my ultra-white skin and blonde hair. With the bow tied around my neck, the dress made my tits look instantly fuller and perkier, two perfect round shapes revealed between a plunging neckline that reached almost to my belly button….it may actually be the most flattering dress I have ever worn.
I nervously emerged from the bathroom unsure of what to expect. St. Jude’s eyes traveled down the length of my body and back up again…he must have liked what he saw because he became hard almost instantly. I walked over to the bed and St. Jude pulled me on top of him. Then he was on top of me, one hand holding onto my hair, the other running over the latex, his tongue in my mouth. He ran his tongue down my neck, pausing only to bite me softly, and then took one of my nipples in his mouth and began to tease it. I arched my back, moaning softly, grabbing his head and pushing him harder onto my breast. By now the latex was hot, causing my skin to grow damp and stick to it. The underwear slipped back and forth against my soaking cunt, exciting me even more, and St. Jude groaned as I raked my red nails across his back, red welts rising in their wake. Wriggling out from beneath St. Jude I straddled him, the soaking wet latex now pressed against his cock. I pulled the underwear to the side and slid my pussy down onto his cock.
Read more!
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