Testing My New Drysuit

This weekend I tested the comfort of a new Drysuit.  The main thing is that I try to minimize what I wear beneath the suits for comfort.  I typically use a latex catsuit with a spandex catsuit over it as my undergarment when I dive on the job.  I find these are very comfortable for movement and the spandex creates an excellent insulation barrier that allows for diving in waters like the Puget Sound.  This undergarment combination works perfectly for me since I am a bit of a rubber fetishist.  I doubt someone not into rubber would be as excited about the results.

Okay, now anyone who knows me knows that this test turned into a rubber weekend with all of my usual excitement.  I start my preparations on Wednesday night as I take myself off of solid food and begin drinking my nourishment.  I sip those funky diet shakes or have clear broth soup…nothing more in food.  I stock up on the sports drink and make plans to settle in for a long weekend.

Friday evening comes and I do my final preparation for the test.  Since there is no long-term diving involved in this test, I didn’t set out a spandex suit but choose to wear two latex catsuits underneath to provide the same level of resistance (and comfort) that my normal dive attire provides.  I give myself a thorough cleansing of my insides and ready my toys that will entertain me for the two days.

Self inserting a catheter is a challenge.  I have good awareness of my anatomy that helps as I guide the thing into my urethra.  I grit my teeth as the sharp pinch from the tubing against the interior of my body alerts my brain to the foreign intruder.  I push it in slowly until the flow began.  I check the clearness of the flow – no sign of blood – I push it in a little more and inflate the balloon.  I pinch off the tip of the tube for now and attach a rubber surgical tube to the end.  The surgical tube will pass through the two catsuits and reside inside the drysuit.  When I determine that I need relief, I’ll open the drysuit convenience zip and just pee like a man!  It is so exhilarating to be able to urinate with such freedom.

I slip two vibrating toys into my intimate recesses.  The well-lubricated phalluses eased into my front and rear holes.  I felt my tensing body envelop the two intruding toys with eager anticipation of the joys to come.  I moaned as I pulled up a pair of high-waist panties to hold the two toys in place.  I pulled the cath tube around the edge of the panties. 

I roll on a pair of latex stockings.  The slow unrolling of the latex on my legs sent a shiver through my body.  I begin to drift into that world so apart from the real world as my rubber desire began to overwhelm my soul.  I slip my hands into a pair of long black gloves encasing my arms in the rich embrace of rubber.  The first latex layers warm quickly to my heat. 

Now I take the next step in my descent into rubber deprivation.  I slide my rubber-sheathed legs into the lightly powdered catsuit.  The thin latex of the suit covers my legs in shiny black.  I feel the increasing grip of rubber pressing my legs and the massaging touch thrills me as I pull the suit up to my hips.  I pull the cath tube through the zipper opening that goes from the belly through the crotch and up the back.  I pull the suit to my chest and slip my arms into the waiting sleeves.  I shrug the suit over my shoulders and dip my neck to pull the attached hood over my head and to my face.  I adjust the latex and smooth out the flaws.  The custom suit becomes one with my body as it shifts and glides into place.  The zipper begins at the top of the head and I reach behind my back to find the lanyard.  I pull the lanyard down my back and feel the tight latex adjusting more and pressing against every inch of my body in a subtle and loving embrace.  The latex becomes a living being that traps me within its cocoon.  I finish closing the zipper and fit a small lock securing the zipper to a reinforced embedded “D” ring at my belly button.  I contemplate my situation that I am sealed inside this suit until Clara comes over on Sunday evening to release me.

But I know that one suit is not enough.  I take the slightly heavier blue suit and slide my feet into the waiting legs.  My feet settle into the attached feet and I work the suit up my body.  I fish the pee tube through the mostly closed convenience zip at the crotch and tug it closed.  I apply a little piece of plastic tape the secure the zipper rubber in place.  I feel the increasing pressure on my skin and long for the tighter embrace over all my body.  This suit is shoulder entry and I push my hands into the sleeves and work it up my body.  I pull a second hood over my head after fitting a modified snorkel mouthpiece into my mouth.  The mouthpiece serves as a gag and has rubber plug with a through tube in the breathing opening that allows me to attach a drinking tube as needed.  The hood secures the mouthpiece in my mouth as I close its back zip.  The thick rubber of the hood effectively locks my head in a constant rubbery grip.

I tuck the long neck skirt of the hood into the second catsuit and close the two shoulder zips.  I attach a wide rubber collar (not quite a posture collar) around my neck, buckle the strap and slip it under the silver “D” ring then attach a lock.  Now I am sealed inside two catsuits.  The two toys are moving inside me as I walk, sit or stand.  Their presence is a constant reminder of my situation…my encasement in the most supple and erotic of materials.  I finger the remote control that will activate the inserted vibes and know it is best to wait. 

I take up the drysuit.  I study its heavy black rubber exterior and check all of the fittings and attachments.  I check for any obvious flaws or breaks in the material.  The suit is new and I expect to find it in perfect condition but one needs to check these things before the first wearing just in case.  My gloved fingers slowly work through the folds of the heavy rubber.  I lightly touch the logo of the suit.  The chest of the suit announces in plain white lettering, “PRO<AM>1050”.  The suit is top of the line commercial grade and suitable for the type of diving we do in my work… diving in waters with known light levels of contamination.  We will also be getting a couple of PRO-HRM suits for heavier work but I probably won’t be getting one in my size since they are very expensive and the rest of the team can’t use a suit my size.

I closely scrutinize the seal between the neck and the attached hood.  If there is going to be an issue with the seals, it is usually this one that fails.  I see nothing to worry over so I begin to ease my rubber encased body into the suit.

I pull the heavy suit on.  The thick rubber surrounds my body, not with the tight sexy fit of my other garments but with a loose-fitting layer of watertight rubber that will keep me completely dry when I plunge into the cold area waters.  The only tight fits are the wrist seals and the tight neck/hood seal.  I reach around my shoulder and pull the heavy watertight zipper closed.  The booties are designed to wear fins or dive boots depending on the need.

I settle into a chair near my computer and log onto Internet.  I start with checking E-mails, and some of my regular sites.  I log onto Rubberdoll Factory Chat and begin to follow the conversation.  I switch on the vibes as I alternate between the chat and other sites.  I check Gromet’s Plaza for new latex stories.

I let my mind wander to the little vibrating phalluses inside me and I find myself rhythmically working myself into a slow building state of arousal.  I squirm in my seat and feel the shifting throbbing shafts inside me moving closer to my initial carnal release.  This quickly building flood of passion always sweeps me away with sudden abandon then the pulsing toys sweep my body away on multiple waves that ebb and flow then ebb and flow again.  My body surges inside the rubbery cocoon two, three then four times.  I surrender to the hugging rubber as my tortured body writhes under the tight living rubber.  I pant into the mouthpiece and suck air through the attached tube as my nostril openings aren’t enough to supply the needed oxygen my body is burning.

As I roll off that last final high and plunge into the final abyss, I feel the suits closing about me.  I have the five minute panic that always follows my explosive release, that claustrophobic embrace of the suits that always strikes.  I hold myself still and wait for the feeling to pass and I again feel the warm glow of the hugging rubber embracing me in bliss and slowly drift into light dozing sleep.  It’s that sleep that doesn’t take you into a deep dreaming world but keeps you floating just beneath the surface of a shallow pool.  It must be the sleep our ancestors of long past knew when they were sleeping away from their cave/home on the open prairie and had to maintain vigilance against predators.

The rubber suits do this to me.  They strip away the veneer of civilization we cloak ourselves in.  They strip away the lies we present to the world.  They strip away the stage acting we present to the world.  I am left with the raw animal needs of living for now and completing my journey of absolute surrender to rubbery pleasures.

I recover and chat some more on the Internet.  I sweat inside the suits and feel the slippery lubricant allow the suits to move easily over my skin.  The massaging embrace brings on a subtle and satisfying glow.  I chat easily with the folks who have similar interests to me.  I find that some don’t understand the drysuit part of my hobby.  I understand the general feelings of the folks I chat with.  I just point out that what is hidden beneath the drysuit is easily imagined and they should concentrate on what is concealed not what is revealed.  It’s too little avail my explanation pleases my chat-mates.

I drift off to my bed after a good swig of sports drink and a relief of my bladder and let the low level buzzing of the vibes carry me off to a new adventure in lust.  The light sleep punctuated by orgasmic explosions keeps me pretty much awake all night.  I know that I will sleep soundly tomorrow night after my body runs its animal course to exhaustion.

Saturday morning arrives with me slowly coming awake to the buzzing inside me.  I feel the tight press of rubber and the dry rubbery taste of the respirator mouthpiece.  I slowly remember that I am testing the comfort of my new drysuit.  How can I forget this since I am totally encased in rubber layers?  I slept well after about 2:00 AM and three rousing rubber induced cums.  I categorized the events at only three though the first one produced three separate cums in rapid succession. 

The first one hit me like a fist.  It was hard and quick sucking my essence out as I shook with explosive ecstasy while I sucked at my respirator hose for living air.  Then even as this first blast subsided a boiling inferno of hot passion rose from inside and burst upon me, flowed over me drowning me in its thick choking desire.  The second explosion just ebbed away as a final quiver of ecstasy – more imagined than felt – pulsed through my limbs.  Le Petite Mort was complete and I felt the flooding release of desire as I wanted to rip the suits from my body.

The claustrophobic episode passed and I snuggled into my pillow to sleep.  An hour later the buzzing wands again woke me from the light sleep and a second cycle of orgasmic pulsing spread from my rubber concealed flower.  I arched my back and pushed at the crotch to gain the release as quickly as possible.  This time I was certain to fall into slumber after the one explosion.  Sure as my thoughts, I tensed with my whole body as the vibes pushed me to the beyond.  I panted again into my respirator and drifted into a second slumber.  The final explosion was more whimper than explosion as my exhausted body succumbed to on last thrusting heave of the vines.  I switched the things off then since I knew I was now completely exhausted inside my encasement.

I wake about 10:00.  I slowly pull my thoughts together and remember what I am doing.  I pull myself slowly from the bed and swill sports drink.  I go to the bathroom, unzip the convenience zip of the drysuit and unclip the tube clamp on the cath.  My full bladder passes the stuff to the commode as I lean against the wall for support.

I swill more fluids and take a light diet shake.  Today is the water test.  The Sound will be cold but I only plan to be in it a few minutes to make sure everything is working on the suit.  After the water test, I’ll wash off the outer shell of the suit, dry myself completely then off to the Internet to check on things.

I also will be using a full face breathing system.  This mask provides positive pressure and a complete seal to the diving hoods for use in suspected contaminated waters in which we frequently dive.  It also gives me a very sealed up and isolated feeling when it is clamped to my face and I am breathing the cool compressed air from the tank strapped on my back.

I pull on my buoyancy compensator/tank pack.  I buckle the waist strap and pull the crotch strap through and connect it to the waist strap.  I cinch the shoulder straps snug followed by the crotch strap.  The tanks are secure and snug against my back.  The regulator hose dangles at my side and I grab the mask as I head for the back door.  My back yard ends at the edge of the Sound.  Beachfront property was relatively cheap when my Dad bought the place years ago. 

I reach the rocky beach and sit on a large piece of driftwood.  I pull on my fins and put the regulator hose to the mask.  I hand-tighten the hose snug to its seals then give it a short twist with a wrench to assure the seal.  I then pull the five point harness of the mask over the smooth rubber hood of the drysuit.  I begin to tug the straps tight, pulling first the two below my ears, then the top center one and finally the above the ears straps.  I recheck the fit of the lower straps and suck against the resistance of the airless regulator.  The mask collapses nicely to my face and holds seal.  I reach over my shoulder to the air tank valve and open it.  Air immediately flows and I breathe in the cold odorless stuff.  I adjust the exhaust valves to allow for slight pressurization of the mask, simulating the conditions for routine diving in lightly contaminated waters.

I begin to wade into the water.  The water reaches my waist.  I feel the suit collapsing against my body.  I wade up to my chest and neck.  I check my buoyancy and find I need to make minor adjustments to reach slightly negative buoyancy. 

The cold water stuns me.  I take make the short swim out to my buoy, place the dive flag and slip under the surface.  Everything is working fine as I check out a couple of starfish.  A sand shark swims nearby.  I see nothing else in the murky water.  My dive is short as I return to the surface after only about five minutes.  I swim into the shore until I find footing on the bottom.  I wade out of the water, the glistening black suit takes the few sun rays glimpsing through the clouds and refracts them nicely on the clinging water droplets.

I remove the fins and trot back to the house.  I haven’t removes the mask yet and my breathing is noisy spurts in my ears.  The shower inside the utility room waits and I turn on the water…hot.  I get into the shower and rinse the suit and my scuba gear thoroughly.  The hot water feels so good after the quick dive in the cold Sound.

I shake myself off and take a towel to the suit.  I enjoy the isolating feeling of the scuba equipment as I finish toweling off.  I decide to wear the full gear for a while and I find the vibe remote.  The switch is easy to push.  The desire to push it is complete.  The delay in pushing it is sweet denial that I hold in my hand.  I wait for the final push and settle into a chair to massage my rubbery body.  I lose track of time as I drift into reverie within my cocoon.

I put Irma Vep on and watch Maggie and the other girl dancing around in their rubber suits and basically making me nice and warm in knowing the secret of latex that is only hinted in the movie.  My hand drifts to my hidden sex and I lightly stroke the rubber.  The intensity of the touch is amplified by the transmittal through the layers of latex.

I moan in my private ecstasy and thank the latex gods for giving me the gift.  I think of the vast majority of people who are missing the glorious latex world and consider their loss as my esoteric gain.  I really have no intention to push my feelings on other, though my door is always open to any who wish to wander in and test the waters.

I drift into light sleep through mid-afternoon jolting awake as my dreams of orgasmic pleasures turn to suffocating dangers and are all too real.  The air has exhausted from my tanks and I struggle to quickly pull the face mask off.  Wow, a near thing!  And such a foolish error that could have been disastrous for me; I shudder involuntarily as I realize the nearness of the potentially fatal accident.

The sun shines brightly and the air is cold and crisp.  I hope for heavy clouds and steady rain so any excursions outside in my attire are semi-justified but it appears this is not the case this weekend.  We are having a rare cold, clear spell.

My visit to the mailbox evokes little attention from neighbors.  Most are aware of my job and know that on weekends I do recreational diving.  They accept my explanation that once I am geared up it is too cumbersome to change for such minor details as a trip to the mailbox or a walk along the beach.

After the mailbox I go around the back and take a walk along the beach.  I let the waves wash my feet and ankles secure inside the drysuit booties and I feel the fresh air chilling the outer layer and penetrating to some extent to my body.  I think at times that a dog to retrieve sticks of wood tossed into the Sound would be fun.  I’m sure a dog would always be a loyal and faithful companion with no judgment on what I wear.

After about 30 minutes I am ready to get out of the cold and head back to the warmth of my home.  I take a quick plunge in the shower to clean off the feet and any spray that might have gotten on the suit and to get warm!

More drink, another pee and some liquid food… hot broth to warm my insides too… is in order before I settle into a solitary reverie in my layers.  I hit the remote switch and let the toys inside carry me off to that other world.  I moan in ecstasy as the waves of passion build under the layers and I am carried to the first orgasmic glow of the evening.  I drift into the half-dream comfort of my situation and remind myself of how I reached this point in life.

Two years ago I worked for the US Fish and Wildlife Service.  Seven years before that I graduated from school and began with the Forest Service before transferring to the Fish and Wildlife Service.  Shortly after taking up my new position I had to do fish tagging in the Klamath River of Northern California.  Hips boots were a must to keep warm when wading into the icy water to get fish from nets for tagging.  The boots were so high up on my legs.  They brushed against my lips as I moved in the water or walked.  The clamping feel in the water was comforting as I pulled the nets free.  We wore long industrial gauntlets to try to keep our hands dry and warm.  I soon associated rubber with security and protection.  The tease from the boot tops aroused me as no man ever had.  It was like constant foreplay!  Boots could do that?  Was I the only one with these odd feelings?

I wondered about my diving background and why the drysuit never did this same stimulation until the first time I dove after the boots.  Suddenly the rubber smell and the tight security of the total body coverage did arouse me!  Something that before had been a utilitarian necessity of my work became an erotic excursion into a new world.

I smile under my hoods at the thoughts of how my conversion happened.  Many hear tales of being introduced by someone close.  There is the accidentally on purpose discovery by a friend leaving something out to be found.  There are the myriad of fantasy tales but reality like mine!  To think that my introduction and seduction into rubber was my work is incredible.

I switch the vibes on and let them carry me off to Shangri La in rubber!  I am soon panting as my first cum subsides and a second builds right on its heels.  The muscle spasms send audible moans from between my mouthpiece as I writhe inside the suits and squeeze the intruder tightly to hold it longingly inside me.  I swill a quick gulp of sports drink and moan as the second washing wave covers me.

I lose control.  I surrender to the rubber.  I am engulfed in its hot folds and squeezing embrace.  Rubber is my constant companion as my body accepts its constant touch.  I pant inside the confined cocoon as I try to hold back another slowly building eruption.  The forced passion builds and I surrender to my fate.  A third rolling cum flows over my tormented and aching limbs.  My tensing muscles are numb by now yet the desire in anticipation of another hovering flood keeps me on a hones edge.  I quiver in desire.  No longer do I want to strip off the hot rubber after the passing releases as I know another is near.  My whole body is on edge… walking a tightrope of desire, anticipation and constant fulfillment.  Amazingly I slip into light slumber in my arousal and see rubber dreams swimming before me.

I see my meeting with Lydia and her interest in my clothing that day.  I was sitting at an Oyster Bar in Ballard.  I had met with a fishing boat owner to discuss arrangements to hire his boat for some of our contract work when his boat wasn’t engaged in fishing.  Most fishing boat owners don’t like the boats to idle between fish openings and an easy hire that requires minimal crew is a good thing for them.  Part of the meeting included a thorough inspection of his boat, both above deck, below deck and bottom.  I like my contracted partners to be as meticulous to details as myself.  One easy way to check is the maintenance of their equipment, in this case the boat.

I was in my drysuit as a result of the boat inspection when I went to the Oyster Bar for lunch.  Under the drysuit were my usual latex and spandex catsuits.  I had removed the weight belt but had clinched a wide canvas belt around my waist to keep the drysuit somewhat out of the way.  There’s nothing worse than bulky folds of rubber as you sit getting in the way of your chowder.

Lydia was sitting near me and she was obviously interested in the black drysuit that hid but also revealed me as I sat sipping my soup.

“Excuse me,” she came up to me and said.  “I couldn’t help noticing the dive suit.  I mean I’ve seen plenty of guys here in dive gear but you’re the first woman I’ve seen.”

“I dive.  I need to eat lunch.  I plan to go under again in about an hour.  It’s kind of pointless to strip off the gear to eat then have to put it all back on again.  Besides in this cold wind it’s pretty comfortable,” I said.

That was our first curt exchange.  Lydia wasn’t turned back by my abruptness.

“Normally I wouldn’t bother but I have been looking at some new gear and wondered if you could tell me why this rubber suit is your choice over some of the newer and more colorful suits.”

She was pressing close to me in the crowded counter and I felt her warmth.  “It’s utilitarian.  I do commercial diving and these suits are best for that job.  I use them for all my diving since there isn’t any reason to have a ‘sport’ suit too.”

“I see.”  She ran her fingers along my suit sleeve.  “This looks much sturdier and tear resistant than the suits in the dive shops.”

“Yes.  These are thicker and if they do tear they are easy and quick to repair, like a bicycle inner tube.  You can be back in business in a matter of an hour unlike the newer stuff.  I’m willing to give up looks and weight for security and rough wear ability.  These can take a lot of punishment from sharp edges and rocks without getting compromised.

“It’s so smooth to the touch.  The other suits have a fabric feel; this is more liquid to the touch.”

“Yes, rubber is very smooth and feels very protective,” I said.

“I see that,” she said.  Her fingers continued to linger on my sleeve.

Well time to shock I decided.  This woman was kind of bothering me.

“Some people like wearing rubber gear for other than protection from the elements or for diving,” I said.

“Really?”

 “Yes.  I for one enjoy its feel as often as possible.  In fact I wear tight rubber suits under my drysuit when I dive.”

“Oh,” she said politely.

“Yes.  I have a tight rubber suit on right now under a similar spandex suit.”

“Is that like a Zentai suit?”

“Exactly.”

Usually that sends them packing but this one just looked in my eyes.

“I love Zentai suits,” she said quite unabashedly as she openly showed her interest in my drysuit by clinging to my arm more aggressively. 

“I’d love to package you in all of your rubber and take you home,” she whispered in my ear

Well that was a shocker for me!  So I met Lydia and now we see each other three times a week in a loose relationship of rubbery fun.

I think of her arrival tomorrow afternoon and her plans to satisfy my rubber smuttiness and humiliate me publicly before we romp in the bedroom for a few hours of rubberized bliss.  But that is for tomorrow.  Now I am concentrating on making it to tomorrow as I stew in the layers and think of the locks keeping me inside my rubberized prison.  Lydia holds the keys to my rubbery pleasure and freedom later.

The rest of Saturday is summed up as drink, pee, and cum.  I toss in a little rest now and then but I am pretty much exhausted by the routine of the weekend.  I zone into an out-of-world experience as I imagine floating among the heavens.  The buzzing probes maintain my constant arousal and my whole body is poised on the very brink of carnal explosion with the occasional plunge into the depths.  By now the explosions are somewhat misstated as the passions are now sweeping over me in small and exhausted ripples.  Still I quiver inside the suits as each wave passes through me and more sweat slicks the inner rubber suit and more sports drinks passes my dry throat.  My trips to the bathroom to open the tube and relieve myself are not that frequent and I note that I need to swill more drink.  I am content to let the time pass in the comfort of my cocoon and drift into that light reverie of physical happiness.

Sunday morning comes.  I am pretty ripe inside my layers by this point.  I am exhausted from the constant teasing of the toys and my rubbery confines.  I lay on my bed looking at the ceiling as I hear the distant sound of the door.  It seems early for Lydia so I pull myself up to see what is up.

“Hello rubbery pet,” says Lydia.  “I bet you are really in need of some salvation today.”

What is this about?

Lydia pulls a beautifully done latex head mask from her bag.  The mask is perfect in its detail.  She comes over and pulls the drysuit hood off my head.  Next she pulls the mask on.  She aligns the glass eyes with my hoods and the perky little nose to the short protruding tubes.  The tubes are actually flush with the mask nostrils once she finishes with the adjustments.  Only very close scrutiny will reveal this minor flaw in the appearance.  The bright red lips of the mouth hide the gag/tubes underneath.  The eyes are unblinking and wide as a doll eyes are.  I look into the mirror she hands me and wonder what this is about as I am now a perfect rubber doll.

Lydia tucks the neck of the mask into the drysuit and pulls its hood back in place.  She takes out a wig of long think black hair and sets it onto the drysuit hood.  She combs out the hair of the wig to cover the entire drysuit hood.  I wonder at what she plans.

She hands me a pair of black leather slacks she brought with her.  I pull the slacks on and find that they are snug at the waist when over all of my rubber and hide the lower rubber under its less kinky skin easily.  She passes me a thick black woolen herringbone turtleneck sweater.  The heavy turtleneck collar covers my upper body.  Only the latex face and my rubber gloves are exposed.

“I don’t think you’ll be taking the sacrament today, Hon” she says.

The staring eyes of the mask hide the horror I feel as her words mean she is taking me to church!

I know the sweet scent of warm rubber is apparent though the leather pants might hide it some.  The church will be pretty full and we will not be sitting alone.  Lydia leads me out the door.  It is chilly but inside all of the layers I am sweating heavily.  She shows me the remote to the vibes and a slow grin comes to her face.

I plea silently for her to not turn the things on in the church and know I will not win that one.  She will do what she will do and I have no choice in it.  She drives the five blocks to the church.  We bump along and I squirm as the things inside shift a couple of times.  As she parks the car and opens her door, she switches on the vibes!  The things erupt inside me and not on low either!  I fear for the sounds from the buzzing intruders reaching beyond my enclosing layers.  I shouldn’t fear that possibility…the toys buried inside my body, three heavy layers of rubber and a layer of leather effectively masks the buzz.

It’s the body reaction that I should fear as my situation is so humiliating and public that my arousal blasts beyond anything I imagined possible after two days of constant stimulation and satisfaction.

“I know that you need help to achieve cums today, dear.  I hope this little idea works,” Lydia whispers as she guides me from the car. 

“But in church!” I scream silently.

One hour later, sweat flowing freely under the rubber, my panting breath quite apparent on at least four times during the hour, I find myself wobbly as we proceed to the exit.  Lydia steers me to Father even as I try to slip away from his greeting hand.

“Ah, Lydia, where is Shirley?” her asks.

“Shirley is sick today, Father.  This is my sister, Angelina.  She’s a bit shy.”

I take Father’s hand and nod a greeting with a little mumble through the gag that isn’t quite words.  I try not to look at him so the fake doll eyes aren’t too apparent.  He looks at my gloved hand and smiles thinly.

“Welcome, Angelina.  I do hope Shirley is feeling better,” Father says to Lydia.

“Yes, Father.  I’m sure she will be fine tomorrow.”

“Enjoy the rest of your day, my children.”

“We will, Father.  Don’t worry about that,” Lydia smiles in reply.

“That wasn’t so bad now was it, Hon,” Lydia says to me as we walk to the parking lot.

I’m aghast at the encounter.  Father Ward had to know better.  I know he expects me at Confession this week as a result of this little escapade.  We reach the car, Lydia opens my door and I fall into the seat.  She gets into her side and switches off the vibes.

“Lunch is next.  I guess you can sit and watch as I eat.  Personally I’m famished.  I’ll make sure you get something to drink.  You can take a straw in your mouth, I think,” she says.

Lydia hops on the I-five south to State route 16.  We exit SR-16 just before the narrows Bridge and head south toward Titlow Beach.  We are at a Seafood Café. 

“I bet you could go in here in your drysuit but this is Sunday so I think we’ll keep you covered,” Lydia says.

She runs to my side of the car as I climb out.  My body is so exhausted from the days inside rubber and the high energy activity associated with the ordeal that Lydia has to support me as I stumble as much as walk with her.

Her lunch is salad.  My lunch is ice tea… lots of ice tea.  The view is magnificent as I look west across the narrows to the Kitsap Peninsula.  Even through the slightly distorted view of the mask eyes, I enjoy the sight of beach, water and green land on the far side.  I see a couple of divers working their way into deeper water from the beach.  I almost want to join them rather than sit here in this place as I steam inside my suits.  I’m sure my smell is noticeable.  Once or twice the waitress looks at me oddly.  There aren’t many nearby customers and the squeaky rubber sounds are muffled as I move in my chair.  The mask and gloves are most noticed. 

“Today is so beautiful!  Don’t you think it is beautiful?” Lydia asks.

I nod.

“Oh I forgot you’re a bit mute today.”

“You’re such a wonderful companion.  I seal you in your suits and you’re as happy as a clam.  I can take you out and you don’t make any fuss at all.  I never lose an argument with you.  You’re my silent companion.  Then we get home and you’re my most exciting and wonderful partner.  I didn’t think I’d ever find such happiness!  Oh that day at the oyster bar when I first saw you sitting there in your dive suit.  I just knew you were for me.”

I nod as she chats away.

An hour later we go home.  I think I will finally be let out of my gear as it is now 2:00 and I’ve been sealed inside since Friday evening.  Wrong!

Lydia orders me out of the street clothes and helps me into my dive tanks.  I wonder at this as Lydia doesn’t dive.  I find out soon enough that we aren’t diving.  Lydia just gets herself comfortable in one of my Japanese wetsuits… the ones that are of fine smooth black neoprene… and leads me out to the beach.  She straps my regulator to my face and just sits me on the sand.  She sits next to me and begins to play with my suit.  She strokes me as I pant inside the sealed breathing system.  She whips up me vibes AGAIN and then she pulls me to her rubberized form.  I know I must arouse her and fast.  I begin to pet her rubber skin.  I massage her hidden mounds and push my gloved finger against the beaver tail covering her sex.  She pulls me to her and strokes my face around the edge of my full mask.  She orders me to kneel at her feet and worship her rubbery form.  I kneel as the vibes take me to heavenly bliss.  She is aroused by what I do.  She is drinking in the power she holds on me through rubber.  She is drunk with desire as I erupt inside the suits and almost collapse from the explosive release.  I am jelly that will spill out onto the ground if the suits didn’t hold me in.  I see the vision of me as a blob of flesh with no bones just spilled onto the ground, completely surrendering to my fate.

Soon Lydia takes my hand and drags me to the water.  She pushes me in.  She wades in with me and pushes me into deeper water.  I feel the buoyancy on my body and the weight lifts from my weak legs.  She pulls me to her and crushes against me.  She wraps her legs around my waist as she floats half submerged and ruts against my outer shell.  I feel her pressing against me and my hands search out her pussy.  I press against her sheathed flower as I feel her tense in response.  She is obviously very aroused as she lets me finger her deeply through the thick rubber skin of her suit.  She hugs my shoulders and lets me take most of her weight.  It’s minimal in the water as we ride the waves to her explosive satisfaction.  Now she is panting hard on the faceplate of my mask.  Her hot breath actually leaves little misty clouds of vapor that quickly fade in the chill air.  She holds me tightly as she comes off of the peak of “Mount Passion.”

“That was so gloooooorrrrriiiious,” Lydia moans into my ear.  “Let go inside and get you clean!”

Ah, out of the suits finally, I think.  Wrong again!  Clean is the shower to get the saltwater off the outside.  She takes me into the playroom and straps me to the bed.  She fits me with a huge dildo and she pulls the wetsuit off to reveal the sheathed catsuit under.  She lubes the black cock up and slams her sheathed womanhood onto the shaft.  She proceeds to take herself to a second explosion as I squirm under her vigorous assault.

Lydia opens the relief zip on the drysuit and pulls out my urine tube.  She opens its clamp and directs the stream onto my chest.  My piss streams over my rubberized body and splashes the scuba mask I am still wearing.  It flows into the rubber sheets on the bed.

“You’re such a slut!  You can’t even hold your pee,” she scolds knowing that pee can’t be held with an inserted cath.  “You’ll clean this entire mess up before I release you from the suits.”

She puts the clamp back on the tube and she climbs off me, carefully avoiding the pooling pee.

“You will drink anything that gets on the floor when you get off the bed,” she warns.

An hour later I am finally off the bed.  Nothing got on the floor as I hold the four sheet edges together with my piss inside. 

How did I do it?  I knelt in the center of the bed and let the pee congregate in the depression.  Then I pulled up each end of the sheet with me in the center.  I let one corner go and slowly eased my feet off the bed while keeping pressure on the center.  With one hand pressed into the pool of piss, I reached with the hand holding the other three edges to the lose corner and successfully grabbed it without too much slopping out.  A few drops dribbled onto the floor that I was able to clean up with paper towels while Lydia was out of the room.

I carried the sheet to the bathroom and emptied it into the tub.  Next I ran water, lots of water, to dilute the thick and got into the stream to rinse off the outer suit.  I quickly made sure that no piss remained on the floor as I toweled any wet spots.

Lydia comes in as I am finishing up.

“How dare you hide the evidence?  You got piss on the floor, didn’t you?” She admonishes me.  “I trust the suit didn’t leak but you still got piss on the floor.”

“For that you sleep in the bed in your gear tonight with the cath tube unclamped and inside!”  She asks, “How is your air?”

It’s kind of an afterthought but I have been in the rebreather system for over three hours.  I check the guages and see that I am still within limits but should be getting out soon.  I shake my head negatively.  Lydia goes for the dive locker and returns in minutes with a second unit.

“We’ll take you out of the rebreather for now but this one will keep you happy while you sleep.”

The next four hours are spent drinking fluids and “exercising”.  By nine I’m totally exhausted.

Lydia looks me over, “What a pathetic slut you are?”

I nod affirmative.

“You are just a rubber slut, you know that don’t you?”

I nod.

“I know you were locked inside five days a couple of weeks ago.  Tomorrow is just the beginning of your third day.  This should be easy for you.”

I nod a negative.

“What do you mean by that?  You don’t love to be sealed in rubber?”

I nod affirmative.

“You love to be sealed in rubber?”

I nod.

“You love tight rubber 24/7, right?”

I nod negative.

“You don’t love tight rubber 24/7?  But you’re a rubber slut!”

I’m confused.

Lydia helps me into the second rebreather of the day.

“Get into the bed, slut!”

I get on the bed.

Lydia ties my ankles to the rings at the bottom of the bed.  She ties my wrists to my rebreather belt pinning them to my body.  She opens the drysuit zip and unclips the cath tube.  Pee immediately flows as she closes up the zip again.  She pulls a heavy rubber sheet on top of me and clips it to the bottom sheet using a series of large clamshell clamps.  I am soon tucked neatly into the bed.

“I’ll check in on you regularly, dear.  Sweet dreams.”  She leaves the room tuning off the lights.

I can tell the air is growing stale.  I have suffered through the night inside heavy layers of rubber but Lydia true to her word checked on me regularly.  She checked the air supply guages each time before leaving me to stew in my juices.

Sometime during the night she switched on the vibes and I was suddenly pushed to orgasm as the heavy rubber raped me.

Finally I dropped into exhausted sleep.  My breathing was regular and slow which probably extended the endurance of the rebreather system.  Lydia finally coaxed me awake a full nine hours after she tucked me in.

The cleanup is anticlimactic.  I strip in the shower to me skin and wash out the piles of latex in the tub.  I scrub myself with fragrant conditioning soap.  I rinse and dry everything.

The drysuit held up magnificently.  It will be a very fine addition to our dive locker for both work, recreation and pleasure.

21.01.10