Friday was a Rubber Party over at Captain's place. I've been looking forward to this for a while, and the noises on Twitter indicated that it was going to be a good one. I arrived with Babysham for the host, and a grin on my face as I was met by the smell of rubber. I wasn't disappointed. He'd set up a rubber room on the first floor, complete with rubber sheets for walls and padded, rubber cushions on the floor that made me grin with childish delight as I felt them under my bare feet. Like stepping on a warm sandy beach, except for perverts. I had Dandy under a couple of "going out" rules - he stands to my left but a little behind if I'm stood up, kneeling on my left if I'm sat down - and he was on good form as a bodyguard / butler / arm candy, fetching drinks and drawing admiring looks in a full length red rubber skirt. I like a good skirt on a man. I took part in a hitherto unknown fetish activity - eating Krispy Kreme donuts with full length black latex gloves and licking the icing off my rubber fingertips. Whilst being photographed. Ever the exhibitionist.
I saw a few people I haven't seen in ages, including Smart Set who I didn't get nearly enough time to chat with and got to watch a lot of pretty people in a lot of pretty rubber. And a rather adorable furry crocodile - the natural solution for someone who hates the feel of rubber but doesn't want to miss a party. Mr and Mrs Magpie were resplendent in thick rubber and over the knee waders. The earlier part of the night was spent catching up, chatting and admiring outfits, as well as lying down on the rubber flooring upstairs and breathing contented sighs of relief and pleasure. Fetish can become very normal, very quickly and I'm sure that what we were wearing and doing must have seemed very bizarre to outsiders but it just felt like a lot of good (wipe) clean fun.
Later on as conversation and flirtation became play and penetration I decided to locate the doll suit. It still remains on of my favourite pieces of kit for it's combination of creepiness, smooth perfection and fake plastic facelessness. I handed over responsibility for my well-being to Dandy for the next hour or so, one of the many strengths of a switch/switch relationship is the fact that I can still indulge in moments of bottoming and be well cared for.
It took a while, although not as long as last time, to get into it, and I did need the help of friends. I had a small pang of sadness as I finally placed its face over my own and became a doll once more - I had missed being this doll. This particular, made-to-measure one. Poised, posed and utterly toy-like. I realised that this would be only the third time I'd worn this, but all of the memories were still in the silky feel of the thin latex. And all the joyful, lustful absentia. It was a head-swimming experience, partly rendered through the fact that it's really hard to see properly in the suit, so it's easier just to shut your eyes and once you've done that all you can see in your mind's eye (if you can see anything at all above the mental and physical press of the latex, the instant seal and heat it delivers) is how you must look to others. But I could hear it.
There were noises of delight, questions over who was inside the suit, joyful exclamations of perfection, revulsion, fear and half-joking cries of safewords as I cocked my head robotically to one side. Everything began to blur into everything else as the touching began and at no point was I ever especially clear on who was doing what to me. I was awash with delirious sensation, dropping like a stone and becoming weak limbed, floppy as a rag doll. I was stroked, tweaked, penetrated and generally played with until I was lost to the world - like a balloon floating away anchored only by the faintest string of awareness. It took me a long time to come to, and when I did I was in the arms of Dandy and Mischief, giggling like an idiot in the deep, calm high of a post-rubber tryst. Happy.
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