I have reached the point in life when I am really alone. There is a sadness as I consider my future. I am still pretty healthy, though I do require a fair amount of meds to remain that way. My family is gone. I look forward to visiting my son in Washington but even his kids are no longer kids. Maybe I will have a chance to see and hold a Great Grandchild in about ten years but until then not much is happening.
I remain an unabashed rubberist. This passion has been kept under my surface for the last ten years but now I am free to once again indulge my rubbery desires. With one exception I have always been solitary with my rubber. Even my late wife, God rest her, would not participate in even the lightest rubber games. She was aware of my hobby but kept silent. She had hated it but as long as I did not do anything near her she seemed to have made a sort of truce. Now I was no longer restrained and I was soon browsing the various heavy gear sites looking to restore my rubber collection to some glory.
My idea of latex is not pretty. I am a total enclosure, multi-layer rubber lover. The heavier, tighter and more completely sealing the gear is the better I like it. I also love to climb into my heavy rubber world for hours on end – letting sweat, piss and cum happen and remain inside the interlacing layers that I’ve made as watertight as possible. When so encased, I have always avoided any other type of accident. I discovered early on that the arousal in rubber also helped in preventing soiling accidents. I don’t like crap in my suits!
I already had three Hydroglove dry suits I obtained while the wife was alive. I also had one hood with my prescription lenses securely set over the eye openings. I began wearing these in long-term rubber sessions at least four times a week. I could typically enclose myself in the tight rubbery layers for twelve or more hours at a time.
I cut the legs on one two years ago and added the lower leg to another pants to make longer legs since I am over 6 feet 6 inches tall. Anyway, this third suit gives me three shirts, two pants, shorts (the cut pants) and the Hydroglove stocking-foot wader (since discontinued).
I put all of this gear on for these sessions. It takes 1 1/2 hours to dress completely which includes pushing a gas mask tube under the waders and then taping the seal point tight using an old glove as a gasket and Gorilla tape.
I then spend the next 11 hours or more in total rubber bliss. I surf the Internet. I take turns in bed with the gas mask (lenses covered with thick liquid latex) breathing the air inside the suits. The sweet scent of hot rubber is so incredible. Later a little sweat odor mingles with the sweet rubber... total rubber enclosure heaven. It's not a re-breather since the gas mask exhales into the open room. The system sucks out the air under the waders creating a partial vacuum with each breath that air slowly fills back between breaths. When I am close to cumming the breaths get quick and replenishment isn't as complete - thus I get a very near to asphyxiation experience. I watch that closely and am ready to whip off the mask but I have done this several times and been totally satisfied with the results (if you get my drift)... totally satisfied.
The journey out of rubber is a sad moment but exhaustion and the need to clean up the inside of the clothes of sweat, pee and cum necessitated an end to the session.
The Hydrogloves work perfectly. Not a single drop of anything gets out of the suits during the long sessions.
I begin to dress up in all of the Hydroglove suits regularly, add a pair of hip boots then walk out to the fish pond for wades. A nice six foot long walking stick helps with balance an depth of the water/mud bottom. I find a renewed thrill in slogging around the shallows before dropping in exhaustion to the ground and letting rubber work its magic. One evening turned into morning and though the property is fairly secluded I walk back to the house in daylight, not knowing if any neighbor might spot a black alien in the distance. It is an added new thrill that excites me and I explode with urgent release right in the middle of the walk. Full night excursions with the early morning walk become regular fare for me.
There is nothing better than full-rubber protection when surfing The Web. These sessions last several hours and end up either in bed for a rubbery night or one of my wades at the fish pond. In either case I enjoy the full rapture of rubber heaven and my sealed rubber world.
In December I happened onto a site that offered the ultimate latex suit I could imagine. The suit was custom made from a restraint company in England. They sold very unique and specialized restraints and equipment designed for the most discerning BDSM devotee. The suit was a vacuum suit. It was made of heavy latex and had all the needed connecting devices to work, along with a milking device, to create a total vacuum seal. The photo of the victim on the site gave me a thrill I had not felt in many years.
I contacted the company and provided my request. I wanted whatever was needed to be sealed exactly as the picture. I began a series of e-mail exchanges that lasted about a week as we worked out the details of what my total package would include. I let the company know that I was partial to layering and would almost always be wearing a catsuit under the vacuum suit. They seemed disappointed at this but understood my request. The assured me that the equipment would work just fine over a sheath but the fluid collection system would not remove stuff from under the first layers. They told me anything that leaked into their suit would be removed by the system. I liked that safeguard.
While waiting for the ultimate suit, I proceeded to order hoods, catsuits, wader-suit, sheath briefs, latex shirt, bicycle shorts, gloves, and assorted smaller items. I pretty much blew most of my disposable monthly income for two months on the new gear. I’d be making substantial payments on my cards for a year but I didn’t care. I was going to be so sealed in rubber heaven that it would not matter.
In addition, I had always had scuba fantasies. My property, just north of San Antonio, has a fairly good sized fish pond on it. I know the bottom of the pond was soft mud. I decided to order an Aquala commercial dry suit, a full face breathing system with tanks, and a SCBA fill station compressor. I feel quite comfortable in water and scheduled some basic scuba lessons at a local dive shop so I understood the basics of scuba. I didn’t really expect issues with depth since the pond was only about fifteen feet deep.
I took the class during the second week of January. I asked about the differences in dry suit diving and wetsuit diving during the lessons. The instructor explained that dry suit diving typically required controlling air inside the suit to maintain proper buoyancy and maintaining proper pressure on the body since a dry suit did not allow water into the suit for equalization. I asked at what depths there could be issues and the instructor pretty much indicated that a dry suit buoyancy compensation would be no problem in shallow waters. I think it safe to just evacuate all of the air for my use of the suit. The basic course lasted a week and included pool time with gear. I could also opt to make an open water dive for certification but decided to skip that. Since I had purchased my own air station, I didn’t need the certification to obtain tank fills.
Of course all of my transactions were on-line. The internet is such a wonderful way to obtain any product, no matter how obscure or unusual. I gave no thought of my searches for the products or the growing list of sites visited that related to my very specific hobby – total enclosure and isolation in rubber.
In middle January my purchases began to arrive. For a rubber enthusiast it was Christmas practically every day for three weeks. The small things and catsuit arrived first. Soon I had so much new rubber, I was at a loss on how to begin – almost.
The catsuit with sheath becomes a foundation item. I can’t go wrong putting this fine latex suit on over a brief or bicycle shorts. Two Hydrogloves over the suit and gas mask and I’m sealed in tight for the night. Ah, bliss.
The diving gear arrives in early February. I suit in layers and head for the pond. This time I slog into the watery muck and swim a bit before sinking below the surface and enjoying the water pressing the rubber to my body. The dry air fills my lungs with each breath and I feel total isolation from the outside world for the first time. Soon my thoughts fill my head with erotic images of picture downloads from many years past. I am finally experiencing the feelings and the erotic lust of the people in those photos and I burst with explosive ecstasy. I breathe the air and take time to settle down. I want this to last and repeat itself. I check my gauges and see I have air for another hour. I have plenty of time to reflect on my journey to this point. The journey that began with a fourteen year old boy in chest waders, rain jacket and household gloves in bed and sweating on a July afternoon. I feel the sweat as it rolls down my side. Then I remember that moment when my hard virgin cock burst forth seed in powerful thrusts of pure passion and I was forever hooked.
Finally the milking equipment and the vacuum suit arrive. The special medical examination chair I ordered from the same outfit arrived later the same day. I worked out details with the representative regarding a system that would create a long-term self-bondage that I could not control once I was in it. This involved a locking device on a timer. The system was actually quite simple. The timer controlled an electromagnet in each arm of the chair and under the headrest. The chair featured curved metal flanges where the wrists would rest.
Included in the set were wide steel cuffs that locked on each wrist. The latches on these cuffs were regular jeweler’s clasps. Powerful electromagnets were built into the chair arm at the point of the two rest points. Once I strapped in every part of my body to the chair I would set the timer. A ten second delay would allow me to slip my arms through the two bondage straps that would hold my elbows secure and place the wrist bands onto the curve steel seat. I would have a few extra seconds for second thoughts but once the time lock clicked, electricity would activate the powerful magnets and I would be locked in the chair until the time release.
I study the manuals for the milking equipment and suit. The system is simple in design and so incredibly erotic in its use. Being trapped under all the rubber with the vacuum pulsing and sucking my life out of me brought images of total erotic helplessness. The idea of surrender to this device for even a few hours sent shivers up my spine yet my body demanded I do this now!
I set all of the equipment up. Shiny steels and black rubber straps, black and yellow hoses with shiny chrome fittings all add to the sensory desire of the system. Each piece is exquisitely built and designed to give maximum visual, aural and tactile sensations. I imagine that even sealed under the blinding hood, I will hear the pulsing suck of the machine through my body. The video camera will record the session for me to review. I doubt I will watch it more than once since the actual experience will far exceed any pale rendering on digital media. Still I want to see the gear in action. I want to see my body jerk and clinch with each orgasmic release. I want to see and hear my panting breath as I recover. I want to hear my slurping of sports drink from the camelback as the equipment eerily pulses in the background and carries me to another explosive peak.
Enough imagining what will happen. I set to dressing for my session. I will be simple today, only two layers. I put on my catsuit with attached feet, gloves, hood and sheath. I decide against using a plug for this session – I will add that sensation another time. I pull on the very loose fitting vacuum suit. The thick latex hangs in folds around my body. It is much like a catsuit that is three sizes too big. Since this suit is custom made for me, it has attached gloves and feet. I put the milking device over my sheathed cock and secure it to the suit.
I begin to snap the fittings into place. With each click, I feel a thrill of becoming part of the suit. I feel the isolation of being sealed in rubber and my hardening cock signals its intention to take control of my emotions. My mind fills with desire and nothing can stop me from completing the task at hand. Years of experience has showed me that I must carefully plan a session before starting. Each step toward the end must be almost automatic since my mind is typically turning to mush from anticipation.
I slip my mouthpiece with drinking tube in. I bite down on it and set my teeth in the grooves of the piece. For additional security of the drinking tube I have a second, very heavy hood that I pull up from my chest. The drinking tube was fitted through the mouth opening of the hood earlier. I pull the hood over my head and check the breathing tube alignments in the nostril holes before zipping it closed.
I set the timer on the electromagnetic lock to “10”. I will be locked in my ultimate pleasure and desire for ten hours. I set the timer at the side of the chair. I climb into the chair and starting at my feet I begin to tighten the bondage straps. I lock my ankles to the stirrups of the chair. Next each shin is tightly strapped. Then I pull two thigh straps around each leg. My legs are completely immobilized. I pull straps across my belly and chest. Now I must put on the blinding hood with the rebreather hose. After this third and blinding hood is in place I check my breathing. It is restricted but fine. I suck on my drink to be sure this new hood hasn’t cut off my fluids. The heavy duty drinking tube is fine and everything is working.
I blindly fumble for the steel neck corset. This fine steel device cradles my head in its embrace. It has a soft rubber lining. Like the wrist cuffs it locks with simple jeweler’s clasps. More importantly, when the time lock activates the magnet in the headrest locks the corset to the chair. Movement of my head will be impossible.
I slip my arms into two loose straps over my biceps. Once the arms are in these straps, I have limited movement backward because the straps are thick and not too stretchy. I check to make sure I have enough movement to slide each forearm into the lower straps which are also a little loose. My arms have some limited freedom until the wrists are locked to the chair. If I ever have a partner, I will make sure these straps are as tight as the others securing me to the chair.
I reach across and push the button to start the milking/vacuum system. I hear the pulsating device distantly through the three layers of rubber over my head. I can feel it beginning to work on me. I feel the pulses in my crotch. I know the suit is slowly sucking to my body with each pulse. My rock hard cock is pulsing under its rubber sheath to the beat of the milking device. I feel it quiver with each surge. I now I am already close to my first orgasmic release. I want the locks set before that happens. To explode before the locks might cause me to chicken out and that will not do.
With all of my willpower I hold back the orgasmic surge of carnal ecstasy and reach for the locking switch. I flip the switch and pull my arms back enough to slip each wrist through the forearm straps. I put the wrist cuffs on the curved steel rest and wait. My building explosion is suddenly racing to the finish. I realize I might explode before the ten second delay is complete and would still be able to pull the arms free. Such a defeat on my first try of this bondage would be so humiliating. Only I would know but that still gives me a stomach flutter.
CLICK!
The wrists lock to the arm rests. My head is pulled against the headrest and cum explodes in a gush from my fully aroused cock. My panting breath fills the room in accompaniment to the steady pulse, whoosh, pulse, whoosh of the vacuum suit/milking system. I want out and know I have no choice but to let the minutes of desperation pass to another building explosion of sexual desire. I have ten hours to contemplate what I have done and a smile slowly creases my hooded face.
“The bloke did it, Tom,” said Harry as he monitored the computer readout.
“What you think. Should we fly over to get him straight away?” Asked Tom.
“It only takes seven hours to get there. We can wait a day or two. After all, if he set that thing to “10”, he’ll be in the suit another 100 hours.”
“He’ll be well cooked by then I should think, mate.”
“We’ll leave tomorrow and let him out after two days. He’ll only be half-baked for his trip here.”
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09.04.14