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Username: Macsub34

Post Number: 2
Registered: 10-2010
Posted on Saturday, October 09, 2010 - 09:19 am:   Edit Post

Excitement in Mackintosh
"I love the feel and smell of rubber"
I froze, the telephone handset quivered in my hand. I could not believe what I had just heard my friend Sheila say. Did she realise that I too enjoyed the same things? Of course not, how could she. But from such things new experiences were to happen, although I did not know this at the time. I could do little else but to admit to my own "secret".
Thus it was that Sheila and I set off some weeks later on a holiday to Spain. As requested I took my own S.B.R. mackintosh, as well as one left by my wife when we had split. Luckily this was to fit Sheila perfectly. I also packed a pair of rubber pants for each of us, black rubber sheets, and my one-piece black rubber suit. I only hoped that Barbara would not be offended and find all this too much.
She certainly was not, and requested to wear the pants for the evening when we went to dine at a restaurant. As it was December, the evenings were quite chilly, so we both wore our macks. Indeed we wore them every evening. Barbara looked magnificent, the belt tight around her slim waist, collar turned up. She obviously loved the sensations she was having as she swished along, and I was in seventh heaven.
That first evening, as we emerged from the restaurant, she grabbed my arm tight and I felt her tremble as she was hit by an unexpected orgasm, induced by the feel of the panties against her bare body and the sight of us both so well mackintoshed. I had not realised that this was possible before, and was to lead to her wearing only my rubber suit and a mackintosh for a walk through the town and a drink at a café on a later occasion.
We were lying on the beach sunbathing and talking about fantasies, when the next bombshell hit me. "I have always wanted to whip a man, and have often fantasised about it." she said. It was then that I committed myself. "I believe that everyone should realise their fantasies at least once" I boldly stammered, "and believe it or not I like the idea of being whipped by a beautiful woman dressed in a shiny rubber mackintosh." "You mean you would let me whip you?", she asked. "Yes, if you want to", I bravely replied.
With perfect timing, an Algerian seller was strolling along the beach, and, plucking up enough courage, I approached him and bought a whip of plaited leather, some four feet in length, for the princely some of about £1.
Returning to Sheila, I handed her the whip, which she placed on the sand alongside her. I think she spent the whole afternoon stroking and fiddling with it, and I spent the afternoon with a degree of fear, excitement, and a disturbing erection.
That evening, after a meal and walk, we retired to our room. Both stripping off first, Sheila slid into the rubber pants before sliding seductively into her shiny rubber mackintosh. I had laid a rubber sheet on the bed, and had donned my own rubber pants, which barely hid my rising excitement. I then laid face down on the bed, my hands and ankles were fastened to the corners, and a rolled up rubber glove placed in my mouth. We were worried that I might make too much noise. I also felt that, with something to bite on, I would be able to bear my "punishment" better.
Sheila stepped back, picked up the whip, and, with a rustling of mackintosh, the whipping commenced.
I do not know how many strokes landed, certainly more than I had ever imagined. I do know that Sheila shuddered several times during my whipping, and the strokes at these times were almost more that I could stand. Halfway through, she decided that it would be more fun (for her?) if my pants were lowered, and the whipping continued on my bare bottom. She could then see the weal marks forming, which seemed to increase her pleasure even more. Afterwards she admitted that she had "come" several times whilst whipping me. Certainly the weal marks were to take some three weeks to fade. She even allowed me to give her a few, so that she could fell the sensation. An evening we will never to forget.
She returned, to the husband she was then separated from, shortly after our exciting holiday. A husband with whom she cannot explore her sexuality. I still talk to her occasionally on the telephone. How I long to ask her to become my beautiful mackintosh mistress again, or even find another such mistress to serve.
The punchline – this story is TRUE

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