Club Foyer>Chillout Room>Depositions

The closest thing

As an old man in his eighties, I would like to tell you about the various rubber-lined rainwear I have enjoyed in my life.

My first memory, very vague, is of a red raincoat of the sister of a friend. I can't remember any details, only that I was excited. I was only about 5 at the time.

Later, my mother bought herself a rubber cape; it was simply a rubber sheet, no cotton or nylon. Green on one side and green and white checks on the other. She hung it on a coatrack in our bathroom, so you can imagine how much pleasure it gave me. I was about 8 at the time.

My next raincoat was at my boarding school. My dormitory was over a shower-and-bathroom, and all our raincoats were hung on a rack outside the bathroom. A fellow student had a rubber-lined mac, gray on the outside, and the rubber had a tartan design. Of all my raincoats I would guess that the one I had at school was the most supple and soft. For me the smell of raincoats has never been a turn-on: the smoothness and the softness have been the most exciting feature.

At one time my mother took in paying-guests, and one of the girls had a lovely rubber-lined raincoat that I used to slip into my bedroom occasionally for a bit of erotic fun. Once the owner mentioned that I seemed to like her raincoat. This is the closest I ever came to being "found out". I have never shared my fetish with anybody, not even my wife.

I was happily married for many years, had lots of children, but sadly my wife died far too young. When I was a widower one of my sons came to live with me for a few months, and when he went he left behind a rubber-lined poncho, and it has been an exciting and comforting companion for about 20 years. It is in excellent shape , soft and supple and smooth as ever. I occasionally take it into the shower with me to wipe it down with a cloth and hold it up against me for some fun. I hang it on a clothes-hanger and hang it from the shower head, rubber outside, and it dries in a couple of hours. Sometimes I fold it and wear it like a sarong, with a belt. It is always there when I need it.

So that is my rubberite story,

Joe

Dear Joe

I'm so glad you gave us your story.

My first thought is how sad that you felt you had to keep it a secret, even from those you loved most.

But then I think: Is there something really wrong with secrets? I know everybody says you mustn't have any, but everybody actually does and and I suspect that without them we would all melt into each other like chocolates on the radiator.

LE