Latex dreaming - 1

It certainly wasn’t the first time that I had stayed in this hotel nor was it the first time I’d brought a bag full of latex and toys with me, but it was the first time I’d arranged to meet a fellow fetishist there. The place had always seemed appropriate to me: a strange statue in the lobby held up some sort of scroll that, to my perverted eye at least, looked more like a dildo than anything else.

I checked in, unpacked my bag, laid out several latex outfits on the queen-sized bed, and, once I began to feel settled in, jumped into the shower. I ran a razor over my skin just to make sure that I’d removed any remaining blonde stubble (I’d already shaved at home that morning). I felt so smooth. I imagined that I could only feel few freckles left over from those that had covered my face and arms when I was little – but, of course, one can’t feel freckles!

Don’t you love the feeling of fullness when you’ve shot warm water up your back passage? I tense my muscles and hold the water inside as long as I can possibly manage – it’s a game for me but it cleans me out well too. That day there wasn’t much at all to clean out. I hadn’t eaten much all day. To be frank, I was a little nervous and brimming full of anticipation; who needs food when you’re like that? When I felt my enema beginning to seep out, I couch down, and a clear jet of water shoots out and disappears down the drain.

On meeting someone for the first time, you never know what they’ll think. It’s inevitable then that a sense of uncertainty plays on my mind and feeds my self-doubts, adds to my nerves, and multiplies my anxieties and insecurities. And, as the water washes over my body, I can’t help but wonder, will he think I’m too fat, or too masculine looking? What if he doesn’t find me arousing, or doesn’t like my blowjob technique? But, when I focus on getting ready, thankfully these thoughts seem to vanish.

I always enjoy the rituals involved in dressing in latex. It’s with a real sense of anticipation that I pour dressing aid onto the palms of my hands and coat my feet, legs, buttocks, and crotch. For some reason that I can’t quite explain, I always slip on my leggings before pulling on my latex socks. Once I’ve finally worked any wrinkles out of my leggings, I start to coat my arms, tummy, and breasts with the dressing aid – I always seemed to prepare each part of my body in the same sequence.

As is often the case, I simply can’t stop myself from tweaking my already-firm nipples. Getting enough dressing aid on my back is always a challenge; so, just to ensure that I can pull on my long-sleeved top without problems, I dribble some of the dressing aid inside the top to make it nice and slippery. Finally, top straightened, I turn around and look at myself in the full-length mirror. Only my head and hands are white – every other part of me is a dull black that seems to merge with the shadows cast by the large wardrobe behind me.

Before I showered I was wearing a medium-sized plug in my back passage. Now I insert a bigger one that really stretches me out nicely. I want to open and ready when he removes my plug.

Soon I am applying my eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, and carefully shaping my eyebrows – these little rituals also settle me and focus my attention. Wanting to make a statement, I wear my brightest rouge lipstick, which makes my lips look particularly plump, especially when I touched them up with a little gloss. Now, where’s my short black wig? That straightish bob-style one is perfect for today. Okay, that looks good.

Then, over my latex, I pull on a pair of straight-leg jeans; button up a white silk shirt; and tie a red silk scarf around my neck to finish off my look. Red scarf, red heels, and red lipstick – red hot, I hope! Finally, as I check myself in the mirror, I put a treasured necklace with the little gold Priapus around my neck. Not subtle jewellery I know, but I love that little guy.

Then off to meet Jean in the hotel’s cocktail bar just after 17:00. I’d only chatted with him online. We’d talked about our fetishes over many mornings and evenings, and swapped photos, video clips, and advice as well as expressions of mutual desire and fantasy, but I’d never met him in person (cue: drum roll).

Jean’s fetishes overlap with mine substantially – oral, blowjobs, piss, sensual play, breath-play, etc. His includes PVC and leather as well as latex whereas my own are much more narrowly focused on latex. But I think of myself as an adventurous soul who is willing to challenge myself and isn’t afraid to try new things and take a few risks (like the time I allowed a stranger to mummify me in his hotel room – but that’s another story).

In truth, I wasn’t entirely sure whether I’d recognize Jean in bar or not. Well, you know nerves can scramble my brain a bit. I’d Whatsapped him a photo of myself just before leaving the room; but, in response Jean had simply reassured me that I couldn’t miss him. He’ll probably spot me before I see him. I don’t really know what to expect and, of course, that’s all part of the excitement.

It being Friday evening, the cocktail bar is already buzzing, full of laughter and loud conversation when I arrive. I find a table off to the side and, when the waiter approaches, I order a cosmo. Can others see the latex I am wearing under my everyday clothes? Well, yes, if they look my ankles and feet or perhaps catch a glimpse of black under my scarf. But everyone seems too preoccupied with their companions to pay much attention to me. Except, that is, for one man on his own sitting across the bar. As he sipped his wine his eyes met mine and each time, I averted my gaze. Well, it was a little unsettling to be honest.

Then, as I am fiddling (nervously?) with a button on my shirt, I sense a presence in front of me and glance up. ‘Hallo, Alice. I’m Jean.’ He smiled slightly when he spoke. His words cause a jolt of arousal pass through my body; it’s as though Jean has attached a little electrode to my girldick that’s activated solely by his voice. My eyes flash up Jean’s well-built athletic body and, in a blink, connect with his dark brown eyes. ‘Hello! It’s so good to finally meet you,’ I replied. I try – and fail! – to stop my eyes from sinking down to his crotch.

The top couple of buttons of Jean’s shirt are open and as he bends to sit down opposite me, I glimpse dark latex beneath. That’s perfect!

Naturally, Jean isn’t in the mood to linger and talk in the bar. Neither am I. I finish the last sips of my cocktail before we head out into the lobby. Jean trails behind me wheeling his large suitcase. I can’t help but wonder what he has packed in there! But, learning what is in his suitcase will have to wait until later. Somehow, we can only summon small talk: ‘How was your flight?’ ‘How as the train from the airport?’ ‘Nice hotel, no?’ ‘Have you had anything to eat?’ As we ride the lift to the third floor, Jean’s eyes lock onto my mine with an intense gaze. As he reached out to touch my left arm, he says, ‘I can’t really believe I’m finally meeting you.’ ‘I know,’ I replied.

Isn’t it funny that at moment like this that music seems to match the scene? Have you watched those incredible – almost unbelievable – professional porn videos where two fetishists are fucking like they’re possessed by demons, but the music that accompanies their passion is muzak? Well, the background music in the lift is just like that. Poetic symmetry, I think. I know it wouldn’t be long until we two will be pleasuring each other – though perhaps not quite like that porn movie. The soundtrack running in our ears won’t be bland sonic wallpaper, it will be the exhilarating sound of rubber on rubber.

The door of the room has just clicked shut behind us and I am already loosening my scarf and unbuttoning my shirt. I want to be my true rubbery self as quickly as possible. I am stripped down to my latex and I’m pulling on my hood and gloves before Jean even has time to open his suitcase. He stands watching, slightly surprised by my speed. As he looks on, he can hardly miss my excited nipples pressing against my tight latex top or my little girldick straining against my latex leggings.

‘I want you to shine me, please, before I slip that dress on,’ I said pointing to a black and red number with a laced-up corset-like front lying on the bed. ‘But let’s get you ready first.’

Soon, Jean reveals that he is wearing the tightest form fitting Libidex black neo-catsuit. Even though his latex is still dull, his muscles and pecs are defined beautifully. He has the lean body of a distance runner. The latex highlights his thin waist and accentuates the curves of his firm buttocks – the perfect complement to his bulging cock. His thighs look sculpted and hard. ‘Delicious! I’m going to love shining every inch of your rubber body!’ I blurt out.

Reaching into his suitcase, Jean pulls out a hood. Then, as he sits on a chair aligning the eye holes of his hood and straightening the hood, I stand over him and begin tightening the lacing. I’ve never laced up a hood like this before. I thread the lace through the eyelets and keep going back up and tightening the lacing as I work my way down the back of Jean’s head. He seems to like it very tight, and I love the way he moves his head slightly from side to side to make the lacing even tighter. Although I am focused on this task – and enjoying the slight sense of power over Jean it seems to give me – I can’t help but think about how we might use the buckles at the side of his hood. As I tie off the lace, I remind Jean how much I had been looking forward to shining his latex body.

We stand facing each other; my stilettos bring me up to his level. As we gaze into each other’s eyes, I cupped my hands around his head and start to polish the back of his hood.

Forget using a cloth for shining; I wanted to polish his whole body with my gloved hands! My fingers work around his eye and mouth holes. I take particular care as I polish because it gave me an opportunity to examine his brown eyes, his full lips, and to taste his breath as he exhales. His mouth almost seems to pout as the tight latex pushes it forward. I tease him by running a rubber pinkie across his lips.

I moving back round behind him again. My palms and my fingertips play over his shoulder blades. I go down feeling the muscles in his back as I move down towards those beautifully rounded buttocks. Jean’s body is firm and muscular – it’s the perfect complement to my soft rubber body, which, although toned, is giving to the touch.

Then I move back round to Jean’s front. As I polish, I linger on his nipples, which already feel like hard pelts. Jean lets out an involuntary sigh as I on concentrate on his chest. His tight catsuit is amplifying the sensation of my sensual polishing.

For me, armpits have always held a fascination and I carefully polish the cavities of Jean’s pits as he rests his hands behind his head. I bend slightly as I work my way down his rib cage, my fingers enjoying the contrasting hardness of his ribs and the softer valleys between them.

Jean then begins touching my shoulders gently – clearly, he wants to speed me up. ‘Nah, Jean!’ I want to stop him because I am enjoying the intimacy of shinning him and don’t want to be distracted. ‘Like I said before, I want to polish you properly before we do anything else. I think I’ll have to put cuffs on you.’

With that I wipe my gloves on my rubber tush and lift the cuffs off the bed. Jean is obliging and doesn’t protest; in fact, I think he likes having his arms pulled back and restrained. This will certainly make it easier to shine below his waist.

To be continued…