© Copyright 2009 - RbrBill - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-M; latex; waders; mud; envelop; MF; cons; X
After all these years, I’ve slipped back to my roots of rubberism. I am wading again, not just wading in water to my knees or waist but deep water and thick mud. The deeper the water and mud the better! Feeling the gooey mud pressing rubber close about me is the most amazing feeling. The cool from the mud works it way through the layers and keeps me cool even as I exert great effort just to pull my feet out of the bog and sink into the next brown sucking spot.
My walking stick keeps me balanced and finds those spots that may be too deep. It’s an incredible feeling to have the boggy elements surround me and know that I am safe and clean inside my rubbery costume.
When exhaustion sets in, I will just sit in the stuff and slowly sink into the muck. I always pick a spot close to the edge of the mud hole so when it’s time to leave I can find some solid ground to help work out of the muck. It has come up to my upper chest on occasion. I find that extrication from this situation is nearly impossible. I have to roll on my side and plant feet and walking stick into the muck and pull with all my strength to break the grip of the mud. I can finally crawl the few feet to solid ground and pull myself out. I then usually collapse in total exhaustion and rest on the shore.
When I do this activity in a hard rain, the rain washes the mud from my outer clothing as I rest. The cold rain helps cool me down. My head-to-toe rubber protection (always with a hood) keeps the rain out.
Okay, now the preparations for these nocturnal adventures must be provided so the dedicated rubber fetishist can appreciate my dress and appearance when I take these little trips to the mud bog.
I start out with a sheath brief. It is tight and has a nice cock and ball pouch to cradle me in rubber. It also has a plug that I sometimes insert or not, as I feel. This night I lubed and pushed the thing inside me. Then I pull on a rubber wrestler’s suit, long gloves and stockings. A full catsuit with feet is next. I put on a hood with a wide shoulder skirt before I finish with the catsuit. This effectively locks the hood inside the suit.
Then I pull on a two-piece replica rubber dry suit. It has the pants and shirt that require you to fold and roll the pant and shirt seams together to make a seal. The attached hood of this suit further prohibits removal of the full hood underneath.
The last total rubber fetish item is the thick rubber wader suit. This suit is basically an unlined rubber Viking dry suit with wader feet. It has attached gauntlets and provides complete waterproof protection when it is worn.
Inside this gear, I feel the sweat begin to build. I feel the wet inside cause the suits to move against me as I pull and tug the outer layers on. I can almost let myself drift into oblivion as the rubber takes my very being into the dark abyss of lust. I could rub myself to satisfaction right there in the room. I could lay out my heavy rubber bag and crawl in, clamp a gas mask on my face and just drift into carnal passion. There are so many options for me to do, but this night is for wading.
Over the black rubber gear, I pull on a green rubber rainsuit. This suit hides the gear beneath so no one passing me as I walk to my wading spot sees the more kinky stuff. The rain hood of the suit provides sufficient shadow from passing motorists, though the occasional walker might see my rubber hoods. Hopefully, I pass them in dark shadows and turn my head slightly away from them to hide the face a bit. It has worked before as I mumble a greeting to them and press on for the wading place.
On rainy evenings, I feel fine geared up in this way. I get a bit worried on those nights when it’s been raining as I begin preparations but the rain slows to drizzle by the time I am ready to leave the house. These are the times you meet people out for a late night walk to get the dog to go one more time before bed. I step outside and find that this night is a drizzle night.
My juices were flowing and I was under the absolute influence of total rubber enclosure. I couldn’t turn back until the wade was done… I didn’t want to do that. I started to walk to the park where the mud bog was. The bog was a place to watch birds. Of course the birds weren’t around at night. Usually the park was deserted at night, though its walking paths were sometimes populated with the late night dog walkers. I walked the sidewalk and arrived at the one main street between me and the dark park. The street light on the corner exposed me. As cars approached I turned away from the headlights. I waited for the gap in traffic and thumped across the street into the park pathway. I didn’t see the car slow then speed on as I slipped into the shadows of the park.
The walk to the water always was hot. Sweat was satisfactorily lubricating the inner suit and the rubber glided over my skin in a wonderful massage. I reached the edge of the pool and took my first step into the water. As always the thrill of my feet sinking into the muddy ooze sent a shiver through me. I eased my second foot in and pulled at the sucking muck to step further into the stuff. In short order, about three steps, water/mud was over my knees. I slogged further out and soon my legs were under the mud, then my waist. I struggled to move further out, pulling at the mud to break suction. I fell forward and caught myself with my arms. I crawled/walked along the surface. The mud is just a few inches below the water surface at this point.
I pull at the thick ooze trying to gain purchase to move beyond the deep mud to the more open water away from the shallow end of the pond. I pant through the mouth opening of the hood. I feel myself sinking into the stuff as I rest.
I push my legs down and pull myself up. The mud is about mid-chest and I find that I am thoroughly stuck. I work at finding even the most basic break in the suction. I swing my feet back and sort of try to “swim” in the mud. It is slow going and the cold mud keeps me from overheating. I finally move the ten feet or so needed to grab some long grass on the firm bank. I feel the satisfaction of knowing I am close enough to the shore to again extricate myself from the messy stuff. I let myself slip into the upright position and rest.
I feel my cock growing from the excitement. I feel the pressing mud to rubber to body as I slowly regain some semblance of safety. I feel the rush of excitement that comes with taking on the thick mud and winning again. The muddy embrace helps cool my body as the cock surges deep under rubber layers. I feel the thing in my ass move and tickle me as I let the mud buoy me. It’s an almost weightless feeling in the mud. The air inside my suits has long since been forced out leaving rubber on rubber close to me.
I feel pattering drops as the rain returns. The rain is soon drumming on the rain jacket hood. I realize I can pull out of the stuff and let the rain wash the muck away from the rain suit.
I struggle out of the pond and lay on the grass. I spread my legs and arms and just let the rain pepper the suit. I feel the occasional drop on my lips or in my eyes, my only exposed parts. I rub at my crotch and feel a satisfying surge as my carnal desires build. I open the rain parka and let the rain drum on the outer wader suit. I close my eyes and drift in the glorious feel of rain, water and satisfying rubber enclosure. I thrust inside the suits and feel my erect cock rubbing against the inner suit. Soon I reach a point of no return and the hot cum spurts into the rubber sheath. I feel the heat slowly subside and I look at the water again.
This time I enter the water away from the mud. I quickly see the mud washing from my suit. I open the jacket so the clean water washes the wader suit. The water in the pond is splashing from the hard rain. The sound is music to hear as I let the water work into the outer layers and clean as much of the mud as possible.
“Hello!”
The dark, the rain and my bad eyes (no glasses, clear sight) have betrayed me. My security of the heavy rain is obviously misguided for some hearty soul has braved the rain and is at the pond.
“Stay right there.”
Now is this authority? Probably not. I doubt an authority would tell me to stay. To my amazement, the dark figure slips into the water and is pushing out to me. She (the voice is female) is soon up to her hips and over as she approaches.
She is right up to me now and she sees the hood under my rain parka.
“Wow, rubber on the head. And everywhere else too?”
I’m caught, “Yes.”
“Good.”
She pulls out a hood and slips it over her head. “Now we are both head-to-toe in rubber. What a sight we must be, chest deep in cold water and all rubbery!”
She seems cheerful about the situation.
“I bet you like the mud too.”
I nod.
“Follow me, if you dare.”
She works herself out of the water and I follow.
She leads me off the park path and across the open grass. I’ve never strayed into this part of the park before. She reaches an old wire fence and works along the edge until she finds a gate. She pulls the gate open. There are thick trees and underbrush inside this enclosure. I hear the light burble of flowing water. She pulls me through the final screen of trees and I am standing at the shore of a very small boggy area.
She steps into the wet stuff and her feet sink quickly to her knees.
“Come on,” she says.
I step in and my feet and lower legs disappear into the muck. I test the solidness of footing and find that about two feet under is fairly solid ground. She is full of surprises as she pulls a gasmask from under her rain parka. She hands it to me. “Put it on.”
I notice long hoses from the inlet and outlet ports on the mask. They are linked together along their length by metal straps. The end pieces are hooded like miniature air scoops from an old ship and are locked into a wide flat piece of plywood.
“Lay down and let the stuff cover you; the breathing tubes will float above the surface.”
She pulls out a similar mask and pulls it over her head. She slips further out while pulling me to follow; drops to her knees and slides under the surface. I see the thick ooze close over her body. Only the floating wood and the two breathing ports are visible.
I follow her lead and find myself completely covered by mud. Any light disappears as the mud swallows me. I can tell that we aren’t that far below the surface so breathing isn’t too restricted. I feel a touch on my body as she searches for me in the muck.
I reach out to the touch and find her shape. She quickly finds my crotch and begins to grope me through my layers. I figure her advances require reciprocation so I return the favor. I find that she has something hard under her gear and she directs my hands up to her breasts. I get the message… massage her breasts and help warm those two sensitive erogenous globes to complete her arousal. I pinch and stroke at her mounds as I reach a quick climax from the unplanned and erotic actions by this unknown rubberist. My cum was so quick that I feel I let her down, though I continue the massage and very soon she tenses as the vibrator and my fingers bring her satisfaction.
I move to get out of the mud but she pushes me back. Now her arm is over me, holding me gently down. I guess the afterglow is better spent under the mud. I slowly recover from the excitement and find that she is pulling me to her. There is urgency in her effort to snuggle against me. The cold mud is getting uncomfortable but her hot body is pressed against me. Even through the multiple layers of rubber I can feel her heat as she thrusts against my crotch and shakes in a second, silent trip into ecstasy. She snuggles against me now and I dare not move until she stirs.
I don’t know how long we are under the muck. She finally stirs in her sleep and untangles her legs and arms from me. We ease above the surface and I wipe the muck from the eye ports as best I can. It is no good as the stuff on my gloves just smears the stuff on the eye ports. I slowly crawl to the firm ground and pull myself out. I pull off the mask and am surprised to see the early morning glow of pre-dawn in the east sky!
The sky is brightening and early morning gray is slowly seeping into the park. Things are very visible! Two mud-covered people are not going to be easy to disguise in the light. I reach into the muck to rouse my rubbery partner. She slowly rises from the muck like some mythical monster. I must look the same. She pulls of her mask and looks around.
“Where do you live?” she asks me.
“About a mile from here”, I answer. “I live on the other side of Fourth Street.”
“I really did it for you. It’ll be kind of hard to sneak past the morning commuters to get home in that get up,” she chuckles as she says it. “Can you call in sick to work?”
“Sure. But that doesn’t do me any good.”
“It does you lots of good… I live just over there,” she points to the house that is looming just above the trees. “You can call in sick from my phone and I’ll treat you to some breakfast and well… we’ll see what else we can do to occupy your day. After all, it would be a shame to waste all of this glorious rubber gear and a whole day with nothing to do.”
01.07.09