Jason had actually dreaded this moment. Although a virgin, he was by
no means ignorant, and through his reading and by the coarse jokes and
bragging told in the swimming team locker room, he had surmised that
cunnilingus was a distasteful and unpleasant experience. All that
changed in the next thirty seconds. As she lowered her crotch over his
face, she began stroking his erect cock, occasionally leaning forward
to tongue and partially suck on him. He was eager to return the
favor. He sniffed cautiously. A melange of scent surprised his nose.
The smell of the latex miniskirt, now hiked up around her hips was
reminiscent more of certain pipe tobaccos than the smelly innertube
rubber he was more familiar with. This was mixed with a new smell,
musky and rich, not unpleasant, but... strange, with a hint of some
musky cologne. He suspected she had scented herself here as well.
Encouraged, he reached out with his tongue, exploring the pink flesh
hidden in the hair. She tasted much the same as she smelled- he decided
that the boys on the swim team must be crazy or liars, because he was
already beginning to like it.
As his tongue made it's first tentative entry into her hungry sex,
Mandy moaned, backed up into his mouth, and bent further to take him
completely into her mouth. Jason bucked his mouth and tongue against
her and into her, having only a fleeting instant to think- I'm doing
it! At last, I'm actually doing 69 with the best girl in school!
before the rising heat in his groin became a pulsing fire that swept
through his mind, leaving only peace and a growing love behind it.
"Hey buddy, if you're not gonna drink, how about letting someone else
use that stool, huh?" Jason awoke with a start from his reverie,
realizing his daydream had become that lucid, remembering sort of
sl**p-dream. He looked up at the hard hat that had spoken, realizing
that the deep voice belonged to a huge, muscular woman dressed as a
construction worker. She had one meaty fist clamped around the wrist
of a fierce-looking smaller woman sporting a green mohawk, the other
around a huge can of Buddweizer.
Jason blinked and said, "Uh, I was just leaving."
Sometimes, he thought heading for the other end of the bar, discretion
is the ONLY part of valor.
As the saddening memories of his lost love returned, Jason hailed the
bartender, who had been replaced by a six-foot tall pink elephant, and
ordered another shot of the Macallan. Wistfully, he thought about that
first night of blazing hot sex, of exploration and learning. He
remembered that at one point, Mandy had been lying back, knees in the
air, while Jason, his hands lifting her ass, lapped and sucked hungrily
at her pussy. Essentially they were waiting for Jason's plumbing to
recover before having at it again. Mandy had suddenly lowered her
legs, tucking her ankles into his armpits, and pulled her skirt down
around his head. When he started to back out to see what was wrong,
she urged, "No, keep going," and pulled him to her with her ankles.
Jason, his head squeezed between her muscular thighs and the tightly
stretched skirt, his nose assaulted by her strong musk and the aromatic
scent of the rubber, set to with renewed vigor, and soon found his tool
hardening again. It had been an incredible night, and he had learned a
few new skills, too.
>From that day forth, he had developed a special affinity for Mandy's
style of dress: high heels, tight fitting, yet revealing jackets and
blouses and skin tight dresses.
His lover had quite a few sexy outfits, including several made from
leather, or shiny, stretchy plastic, and a purple latex sheath dress
that looked as if it were painted on. He especially liked the look and
feel of the rubber outfits. She even had a pair of black bicycle
shorts made of latex that she insisted he try on. The unique, clingy,
slightly restrictive sensation had made him instantly hard, and when
she rubbed up against him in her purple rubber dress, he surprised them
both my suddenly coming in his pants.
The smooth, stretchy material seemed to be the ultimate in second skin,
emphasizing the shape of the body, smoothing imperfections, and even
offering a kind of isolating protection from the weather. He looked
everywhere for items made of it, but to no avail. To be sure, latex
dresses and rubber pants were shown off on perfect bodies in various
fashion magazines from time to time, but all he found locally were
rubber kitchen gloves.
Finally, he asked Mandy where she had gotten her rubber items. "Why,"
she giggled, "do you want a dress for yourself?"
"No," he lied, "I think I prefer rubber dresses on you. I thought I'd
get you something new, but I can't find anything."
"Oh, my dad bought some of it for me when he was in New York, I don't
know what store. Then I found mom looking through a catalog from some
British company, and I just asked her to order some things for me,
Jason had wondered what sort of parents bought teir daughter rubber
miniskirts, but kept his thoughts to himself.
For seven months, they were inseperable, despite the accusations from
his mother that Mandy "looked like trash" in her wild, sexy outfits.
When Jason told his mom who Mandy's parents were, and what neighborhood
they lived in, that was the end of that.
He did finally get to meet Mandy's parents, and received several clues
about Mandy's maturity and free lifestyle. Both parents were highly
paid professionals, mom a mathematician for an engineering firm, and
dad a nursing instructor for a local university hospital. They were
smart, they knew their daughter was too, and they were apparently very
open minded about her sexuality. Their only iron-clad rules concerned
her academic performance, and her health. Jason learned that they were
the source of Mandy's uncommon but sensible fixation on what she
called, "safe sex".
Only once did Jason glimpse anything unusual about the senior
Rafool's. During one weekend visit to Mandy's house to get her help
with some schoolwork, Jason went to the kitchen to grab them some
Coke's. On the way back, he passed the garage door which had been left
ajar, and from which some rather frantic moaning and grunting was
coming. Upon peeking through the gap, he was greeted by the sight of a
large black mummy suspended by chains from the garage roof. The bag
looked like leather, and covered the body within it from scalp to
toes. It was liberally equipped with straps and buckles that had been
drawn tight, making the entire form-fitting arrangement quite taut.
Nonetheless, it was quirming enthusiastically, and he noticed a wire
dangling from the bag that trailed off to his right.
Then he noticed, at the edge of his view, a pair of crossed legs
belonging to someone seated just out of sight. The legs had on an
extraordinary pair of knee-high boots with high platform soles, whose
spike heels must have been a foot long! Above the boots, the legs were
dressed in something skin-tight, red, and very shiny which he suspected
was rubber. Shaking his head in amazement, he quietly returned to
Mandy's room without telling her what he had seen.
Of course, thought Jason, it was to good to last...
Mandy's mother had been hired to a lucrative position with a think tank
in Washington, DC., and the f****y moved away within a month. It
happened with hardly any notice, and Mandy and Jason were crushed.
They spent days saying goodbye. For almost a year, they wrote
constantly, and once Mandy's parents payed her airfare back to St.
Louis. They had a few precious days together, fortunately during
summer school break, which they spent seeing movies, shopping, and
enjoying wild and imaginative sex.
Before she left, Mandy told him that if he couldn't come to Washington,
she would be looking for another partner to spend her life with.
Although he knew it was only fair, having it out in the open drove home
the fact that he had lost her. It was years before he tried dating
Years later, in an adult book store, he found a magazine dedicated to
"fetishists". The pictures of women (and men!) in corsets, rubber, and
high heels were tantalizing and a kind of relief, as he had imagined
that his fascination was unique. He bought it and went home to look up
the word, "fetish". It fits, he sighed to himself. I suppose I'll
never find another girl like Mandy. Inside the magazine, he found page
after page of amazing photographs. And the clothes! Every page showed
men and women in the most delicious rubber costumes imaginable. There
were rubber dresses, rubber shirts, long rubber gloves and stockings,
in every color one could want. There was even a severe-looking rubber
corset that compressed one happily suffering woman from her neck to her
ankles! Moreover, the people were doing the strangest things! As he
drooled over the steaming scenes, trying to figure out the straps,
hoses and other paraphernelia, he noticed a tiny ad in one corner. It
was a company that sold all these wonderful things!
Fortunately, Jason was working in the computer field, and had a good-
sized income, or he would have gone broke within a year. He ordered a
few rubber goods from that first company, and subscribed to a magazine
they mentioned. He was still getting over the shock that there were
other people out there who loved rubber as much as he! In the
magazine, there were advertisements from other companies making
everything from anoraks to zoot suits, out of several different kinds
of rubber. He had immediately reached for his checkbook.
Over the years, he built an impressive collection of rubber goods, from
tight women's dresses, to men's "blue jeans". But through it all,
despite his best efforts, he could find no-one to wear any of it with,
or to share his growing interest in bondage. Oh, he dated, and
socialized, but he never found anyone to share his secret desires.
Just once, he had dared to mention his fetish to a woman he had been
dating for some months. They had made love a few times, and she had
proved quite conservative- almost boring, Jason would have said. But
she did seem to enjoy dressing sexy, although more for looks than the
feeling of the clothes themselves, so he casually mentioned that he
would like to see her in a dress he'd bought for her, and when she
agreed, he brought out a rather plain sheath dress in shiny black
It fit her well, but she complained that it 'felt weird', and wouldn't
wear it again. He never dared to bring up the topic again.
After they stopped seeing each other, he resigned himself to a lonely
life of masturbation and fantasies.
Attending tonight's Hallowe'en party was a half-hearted attempt to get
out and see the local nightlife. He'd noticed, over the last few years,
a subtle trend toward a 'trashy and flashy' look in fashion, and had
begun to have hopes of finding a lover who shared his tastes. He had
debated for hours what to wear to the party, balancing the requirements
for a costume against his desire to "come out" in something kinky. In
the end, he settled on renting a Spanish toreador outfit worn with his
own black rubber knickers, and a simple domino mask.
It took all his courage to wear the pants, too.
But as he pulled the stretchy, shiny latex over his legs, he realized
it didn't matter what people thought, tonight was Hallowe'en! Tonight
was the one night he could wear anything at all without fear of
ridicule or outcry. He revelled in the tight, smooth feel of the
rubber jeans. To hell with it, he thought, I'm going to enjoy myself
At the party, which was hosted by a local radio station, he was greeted
by a delightful array of leather dresses, spandex pants and skirts, and
other sexy costumes. But as he danced with various partners in turn,
he realized that to these nervously laughing people, they were just
costumes, and none of them would likely wear such things to the
office. There was no lack of spandex, plenty of cheap imitation
leather, and a fair amount of real leather, but not one bit of rubber
was to be seen. Eventually, he sat down at the bar to rest and console
himself with a drink.
Now, after two stiff scotches, he had become positively soggy with
nostalgia. So, as he sat sweltering in his sweaty costume, feeling
utterly alone in his perversion, he was overwhelmed to see two women
walk in, wearing what appeared to be mostly rubber costumes. And what
costumes! The first to enter, a tall redhead with an impossibly
exaggerated hourglass figure, was wearing what looked like a cross
between a form-fitting jacket and a corset, made of black patent
leather. She possessed the smallest waist he had ever seen. Below
that, a skin-tight glossy hobble-skirt flared around her ample hips,
compressing her legs together from waist to knee. Judging from its
smooth, shiny texture and its fluid movement as she walked, it was made
of thick latex rubber. On her legs, she wore knee-length boots with
six-inch heels, that laced all the way up.
Her companion, a shorter brunette, was dressed in a classic french
maid's uniform, complete with white doily, except that her uniform was
made entirely of rubber. She had on long black latex stockings with
lace garters showing just under the hem of her skirt. His eyes grew
On her feet were a pair of cruel looking patent leather ankle boots
with 6- inch spike heels, and heavy ankle straps attached to each other
with a sturdy little chain.
They seemed to be giving her trouble, because she faltered a bit as the
pair walked toward him. Her hands were covered by black latex gloves
and she carried an old-style feather duster. She truly looked the part,
right down to a pert little leather maids cap. Both were masked with
plain black dominoes.
As he drank in the incredible sight of the two ladies, the red-head
caught him looking and began walking toward the bar, staring him
directly in the eye the whole way. She hardly paused on the way, the
crowd parted around the pair like the Red Sea. Perhaps because of
their dress, women and men alike seemed in a hurry to get out of their
way. Jason watched her walk, mesmerized, as her legs wrestled with the
tight hobble skirt for room to breathe, the thick rubber forcing her to
take mincing steps on the precariously high heels.
It suddenly occured to Jason that the couple was probably lesbian, and
he was about to get the proverbial stuffing kicked out of him by
spike-heeled shoes. He glanced left and right, looking for an avenue
of escape. But by the time he made it to his feet, swaying slightly
from the booze, she stood before him, a stern-looking vision in rubber
and leather. She said nothing at first, looking him up and down, a
faint smile playing on her lips.
Trying to look nonchalant, Jason swung around and glanced about the
dance floor. It seemed he was not the only one who found them
attractive. Practically everyone's eyes had been locked on the pair as
they threaded their way across the dance floor.
They were still receiving hotly critical stares from a few female
partners. Finally, the red-head in the hobble skirt spoke, smiling
"You must really like our costumes," she said, "I could feel your stare
from across the room!"
Jason looked sheepish. "I'm sorry. It's just that, well, they are a
little little unusual, even for Hallowe'en. I mean, you seem to be
comfortable wearing this sort of thing, even those heels, which umm,
by the way, don't look easy to walk in...and you know, everyone else is
just renting their costumes for the evening. And...and they fit so
well, did you make them yourself?" he gushed. He paused for a breath.
"Sorry. Sorry, you ladies really look wonderful, I love what you're
wearing...I guess I'm just... well, it isn't every day a guy has two
gorgeous women dressed in rubber in front of him. Er, can I buy you
ladies a drink?"
"Why certainly," she replied, "we'd love to have a drink, wouldn't we,
dear?" She looked at her companion. The other woman, who Jason guessed
was a few years younger, said nothing. In fact her expression hadn't
changed since they walked up. She seemed distracted, staring off
across the room. Jason turned to the bar and ordered another Macallan,
"and whatever the ladies are having."
"And what makes you think I'm a lady?" she said coolly, eyeing him in
the bar mirror.
Oho, he thought to himself. "Despite your bizarre outfits, I've got to
assume you're a nice girl from uptown until proven otherwise," he said
"I'm a woman, not a girl. You only get one warning."
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean...sorry. By the way, my name's Jason."
"Enchente', Jason. For this evening, I am 'Mistress Mayhem', and this
is my faithful sidekick, 'Maid Marion'.
"Maid Marion! Aaugh!" he groaned at her pun as the drinks arrived.
"So, Maid Marion, what prompted you to do this particular scene?" She
looked blankly back at him, or rather, just over his shoulder. She
seemed not to hear. Odd. Her makeup is a tad to heavy, he thought.
He noticed now too, that her free hand was bound to her waist by a
slender leather cuff attached to her waist-belt. It looked very much
like his dreams had come true!
"She ahh, doesn't talk much, I'm afraid," said 'Mayhem', "but, really,
the whole thing was my idea. I liked the idea of a Hallowe'en costume
party, and actually, we dress up in costume quite a bit. We didn't
make the outfits, it's too tricky working with rubber, you have to get
the seams just right. We have them custom made overseas."
To Be Continued...