I guess I have been attracted to rubber from infancy. My earliestmemories were the young lady who lived downstairs from us in our rowhouse in Chicago. She was dutch (as I recall) and wore a fantastic greyrubber trenchcoat for most of the year. She helped my mom with thebooks of her company, and would often come up to our place and leavethe coat hanging over a chair, or on the sofa. It was soft, VERY heavy,smooth, rubbery, smelled great, and made the sweetest sounds when shewas putting it on or taking it off. I am sure I didnt know why, butjust seeing her button it up, tighten the straps on the waist, wrists,collar, buckle the cape, etc.; just made me aware of the rising dilemmain a new frontier.
When I was in 6th grade, 11 or 12, I accompanied my mother to an afterschool PTA meeting. Rather than sit in the dark auditorium listening tonuns, priests and brothers lecture parents on 'Catholic' education, Itook a walk up into the darkened school building (Mom though I was inthe gymnasium with the other kids). I stopped by the nurses office, theone room you never wanted to be sent to, and tried the door; it opened.I went inside and quickly surveyed the territory. There were glassdoored cabinets full of bandages, medicines and antiseptic; a long,leather covered exam table and several desks. There was also a closet.When I opened the door I was stunned to see a full rack of long, shiny,heavy yellow rubber slicker style coats, the same ones the nuns used toget us to the bus or our drivers car in the rain. They were all hoodedand closed with zippers to a high buckled collar. Being a rather horneychild, for reasons I will never know (not even the shrinks can help), Itook two off their hangers and laid them on the table.
Without any concsious thought or deliberation, I zipped one up andturned it inside out; the I pulled it on backwards OVER my shirt andjeans. Then I zipped up the other one and pulled it on backwards overthe top. I then pulled the hoods over my face, reached behind my neckand pulled the drawstrings out tight and crossed them, pulling themaround my neck and tying them under my chin. Then I climbed up on thetable and laid down on my stomach as though I was operating on remotecontrol. I laid there for a while, squirming, trying to breathe, myarms at my side. Suddenly I felt something strange, started strugglingand exploded in my jeans. I was terrified! I dont remember much more,but somehow I got out of the rubberwear, hung them up in the closet andwent back down to the gym. I was drenched in sweat; much more than anyof the players. I just ran around for a little while longer until themeetings were over, then found my mom and wenbt home. All she keptsaying was how hard I must have played basketball.
I tell this story to illustrate my early experiences, and to let youknow how much I sweated during the whole thing. That's important,because as I continued to dress up in order to be aroused, and tomasturbate; i would sweat profusely after climax. This continuedthrough early high school, but slowly started to decrease as I grewolder. In fact, using rubber raincoats to enclose the upper portion ofmy body only seemed to make me sweat the heaviest. As I grew older, andstarted to purchase more latex and rubber, sweating has decreased. Now,its amazing to me; I can spend 24 hours or more layered in heavy rubberand latex, and seem to perspire very little. To this day; its onlyHEAVY rubber total enclosure, often topped with a leather straitjacketor bodybag that seems to generate any perspiration at all. I realizethat my heaviet sweating always seemed to occur after orgasm, howevertoday it doesnt seem to happen at all!
My point is; do we really 'acclimate' ourselves to rubber and latex? Icant think of any other answer. I have been doing this for over 40years, so maybe I am a strange example; but I would love to know whatopthers think.
Thanks, and please let us all know what you think...
