This is an example of one of my total enclosure rubber adventures that happened during one of my business trips. The trip was a emergency response exercise being held by the Navy at the nearby Submarine Base, Bangor. My job was to assess the response of local civil authorities. our evenings were quite free to enjoy as we saw, My choice was sealing in four/five rubber suits.
Wading in Puget Sound, July 1995
Ten o'clock and it is still light. The dusk is deep and I impatiently wait for the darkness to descend in those last minutes. I look out of the sliding door of my room at the beckoning waters of Puget Sound. The room is dark behind me and I see no one on the paved path along the top of the sea wall. People had been on the walk earlier but it is now growing late. I tentatively step outside. There is a light breeze pressing my face but I cannot feel the chill behind the two latex hoods. I scan the area that is visible from the patio for any sign of people. My dark figure must be very visible in the pool of light formed by the porch light by the door. I cannot turn the light off. The hotel I am staying in controls it...
I left for the Kingston ferry a little after noon. The drive from the office to the Edmonds ferry terminal took about twenty minutes. The day was still gray but the clouds were thin and sunlight filtered through them. The waterfront area was alive with activity. I was already thinking about an evening in latex and on-line. But the hotel had rooms on the first floor that offered another opportunity. Each room had sliding door that opened onto a patio and the hotel sat on the shore of Puget Sound. For that purpose, I included my wading suit with my other latex garments and accessories. I even had a plan just in case I was not on the first floor and the water beckoned. I had jogging clothes that I could wear over the catsuits and I would change into the wading suit, replacing the jogging attire for the latex, and add my hoods under the canopy of my pickup truck. This was a plan of last resort but possible.
The wait for the ferry to begin loading was short. I was directed to the port side of the boat by a deckhand and soon was out of the truck and in the passenger lounge. I strolled onto the starboard side deck to look into the Edmonds Water Park, a haven for divers and snorkelers. Not disappointed I saw several dry suit-clad figures bobbing in the waves. Ah to be surrounded by a nice dry suit or more specifically, a dry suit over two or three tight latex catsuits would be absolute bliss for me. I pictured myself wistfully in the place of one of the divers, protected from the cold waters by layers of latex and the dry suit keeping the water out of the bubble of protection and comfort created by the latex clothes. I saw two women on shore getting ready to enter the water. They were kneeling at the shore and playfully splashing the men that were already in hip deep water. Even from this distance their athletic figures were visible behind the fitted dry suits they wore. Were they closet rubberists using diving as an excuse to indulge in the hobby? Were they completely ignorant of the extra-sexual quality their attire provided someone like me or did they know the absolute power the tight suits that covered them projected?
The blast of the ferry horn broke my reverie and the boat was soon shuddering to life and pulling out of the terminal. The figures on shore and in the water shrunk to unrecognizable blobs and we soon left Edmonds behind. I went back to the car deck to take a quick catnap as the ferry shouldered through the Sound toward Kingston.
The drive to Silverdale brought back childhood memories as it always did. I spent seven years of my life on this side of Puget Sound. Seven young years that ultimately formed much of my yearnings and urges that followed me into adulthood. I passed near Keyport, my home for three years as a military dependent. My father and I would pick oysters from Liberty Bay, he did most of the picking; I liked to wade around the edge of the shore in hip boots. I remember digging a deep pit once and filling it with water just so I could wade in it. I was always looking for a reason to wear the hip boots or a raincoat. In those days I owned a gray rubberized raincoat like you couldn't find today. Rainy afternoons often found me putting on the boots with the coat and rain hood and walking in the rain. I loved to see the water coursing on the rubberized material and feel the protection afforded by the fabric. I always wound up with a juvenile hard-on and an overwhelming urge to pee during these excursions into the weather. How was I to know what these internal feelings would evolve into in later years?
Further down the road was Bremerton. Although I wouldn't go there this time, the memory of the house at Bremerton Annex and the hip boots in the basement welled into my head. These were the same boots that I used at Keyport. I was four years old when I discovered them in the basement of the house in Bremerton; the previous occupant had left them behind. My first tentative wades in the small creek near the house, the wading into the fish lake on the base, or wearing the boots while watching TV were all events that established my love for rubber at an early age. I did not understand the sexual arousal of the material at the time, only that I loved the touch, feel, and protective qualities of this seductive material.
Driving south from Kingston I passed through the heavily wooded parts of Kitsap County north of Poulsbo. I turned right onto State Route 305 and two traffic lights later reached the on ramp for Highway 3 south. The freeway, though faster, offered no views of Liberty Bay. I accepted this little price for the convenience of getting to Silverdale quickly. Passing the SUBASE (submarine base) exits, I soon reached the community of Silverdale. This little unincorporated wide spot of my childhood was now a bustling commercial center, thanks to Submarine Base Bangor. Still unincorporated, it has everything found in any medium size city, fast food joints, chain restaurants, a mall with the normal mall stores, and every chain store found in the surrounding strip malls. The hotel is the best in "town" and sat right on the edge of the bay. Upon check-in I found I had a room on the ground floor.
As I saw my room, the plans for the evening quickly formed. My room was on the end of the wing and the patio door was less than 50 feet from a set of stairs leading to the beach. It was better than all right, it was perfect! Because I had driven to Silverdale, I had my complete collection of latex with me. Most important, considering my growing plan, was the wader suit that was usually left behind. I quickly settled into the room. I hung my garment bag of clothes. I pulled the underwear and socks, the normal clothes, from "The" suitcase and opened the garbage bag that remained.
The sweet smell of latex wafted from the open bag and I began laying out all of the gear needed for the night. I prepared the four catsuits, the three hoods, the briefs and the tee shirt, powdering them and laying them out in order of donning. I pulled the street clothes off and put them away. I knew that I would not need them for the rest of the night. I was naked for mere seconds before I began the process of covering myself in shiny black latex.
I pulled on the sheath brief and my newest addition, the brief with cock ring. I pulled the sheathed and hardening shaft through the ring and made sure the ring was seated firmly at the base of my swelling buddy. I took the three hoods and pulled each in place. The first hood with the attached nose tubes and long neck skirt was followed by a second, tighter hood. I pulled the tubes through the second hoods nose holes and zipped the third hood with mouth tube on after assuring the nose holes and eye holes were all aligned. I pulled the tee shirt over the head to lock the long neck skirts of the hoods in place.
I then fed my legs into the first catsuit and made sure my feet were firmly seated in the attached socks. This catsuit is a front zip suit of lightweight latex with an attached open hood. I attached gloves to it years ago. As I pulled the latex up my legs and smoothed the latex to my skin, I felt the inevitable surrender to the latex approach that I always experience as I cover myself with each successive layer. I zipped the suit closed and used black duct tape to seal the zipper run even further. I sat on my bed and began to pull the heavier and tighter molded shoulder entry suit with attached gloves and feet up my body. The tight latex of this suit magnified all the rubber effects in my mind. I could have easily stopped with these two catsuits and had a full and satisfying rubber experience, but I was drowning in latex desire and demanded more.
I added the medium weight back zip hand made latex suit over the first two suits. I felt my movements become more restricted as the added layer pushed me deeper into the latex realm. I rubbed my gloved hands over my body and was rewarded with the tingling thrill of the latex pressing to my skin. Sweat was already covering my skin and I slid easily beneath the first suit, enhancing the massaging effect of the material as I moved. I booted up the lap top computer and added the fourth suit, a medium weight suit like the third one save for the shoulder entry, to my encased body. Now movements were difficult. Latex layers fought each move with elastic tension that enhanced the tactile experience and erotic massage.
It was only 4:00 PM and I was completely enclosed by four catsuits with sheath brief and tee shirt under them. Three hoods squeezed my head in latex and muffled all sounds to my ears. My vision was reduced to the narrow tunnel afforded by the reduced eye opening from three different hoods. I was safely and cozily encased in latex layers as I logged the computer onto my ISP and surfed into my favorite chat rooms as "sealednrbrbill".
Chatting as "sealedn" let the regulars know what was up. By now they were all aware it means I am on the road and in a long-term enclosure situation with multiple layers. New people on the chat were appropriately surprised or shocked when I explained the meaning of the nickname. Although many people like latex clothing and quite a few like to layer and indulge in total enclosure, I have met only a few to rival the immersion in latex that I attain when I "seal in".
I surfed for six hours as the afternoon turned to evening and finally to dusk. I had many regular chats about what I have on and comments on how hot I must be or how can I type. I partook in one cyber session with a lady friend who wanted to be dressed in binding latex layers, teased and pleasured. Even in release as the session proceeded, I knew that I would need more tonight. I knew that I needed to feel the rubber tight against my body from the pressing water of the Sound.
As the darkness neared, I began to let folks know about my plans. Many were surprised at the idea of me putting on yet another suit, this one quite heavy, strolling down to the water's edge and wading right in. The discussion ranged from what does the water do and feel like to the possible dangers of wading in unknown waters and in water often up to mid-chest or even the shoulders. I explained that the trick is not to panic; latex is actually a relatively neutral material when dealing with water. In fact, some air remains inside the suits even as the water squeezes the latex to the skin. I also have a walking stick with me that will warn of any holes that I might fall into. Besides the adventure of the unknown and the security of the latex skins is all part of the eroticism of the wading adventure. The sensual pleasure of standing chest deep in water or better yet, sitting up to the chest in mud, and knowing that you are safe and secure beneath the intertwining latex layers can be very arousing.
It was time to finalize my dressing for the adventure. I powdered and pulled the wading suit on over all my gear. I knew that five full suits would be great protection from the cold water of Puget Sound. I struggled to close the shoulder entry zippers of the wading suit and pulled the military rain parka on. It wasn't raining but I decided that in the dark, the parka provided some disguise and could be construed as protection against the chill breeze that developed when the sun went down.
I stepped out onto the patio and closed the sliding door behind me...
I look around and find the walkway behind the hotel deserted. I walk quickly down the slope from the patio and find the steps leading to the beach. I descend the steps and cross the rocky beach to the shore. I hear laughter from the hotel and am not sure where it is coming from but I am committed now and know that safety means getting into the water, as far from shore and in deep water as quickly as possible.
I begin to wade into the Sound and find this area to be shallow with only a gradual declination. It seems an eternity before I reach hip deep water and as it finally laps at my waist, I feel the latex pressing against my skin and nicely aroused tool. The moon is up and almost full so I know that my dark form is visible if anyone looks so I squat lower into the water and that adds increased pressure against my lower body as I "duck-walk" into deeper water.
I turn north along the shore. My goal is a stream mouth and road culvert about one fourth of a mile distant. I slog my way through the water. The arousal is checked by the physical effort of the wade but I am still at a high level of anticipation and a heightened awareness surrounds me. I hear the laughter and conversation from shore. Obviously, hotel guests are on their patio or balcony and having a lively chat. Do they see the shadow I present on the water? Can they guess that this moving spot is human? Might they decide to investigate the unusual sight more closely or call the authorities to do the investigation? Since I am committed to the wade, I let those thoughts pass quickly from my head. I am a mere dark spot in the water and I am certain that I am unrecognizable to anyone on shore, especially since the shallows go so far from shore.
I pass an old abandoned and rundown dock and make my way around the point to the estuary that contains the stream mouth. I see traffic along the road and approach the culvert entrance. The culvert is huge, at least six feet in diameter so it easily accommodates my over six feet tall frame with minimal bowing. I wade through the pipe and struggle through the riprap on the other side. I find the mudflats that I have seen from the road on previous trips and test the sludge for firmness. To my chagrin, I find the mud completely stable and compact. I find no foothold in it, much less the desired sinking up to my knees or hips in it. I sadly retrace my steps along the shore to the hotel.
I decide to slog out of the water at a remote part of beach since it is now past 11:00 PM and the shore is surely deserted. I will get back to the hotel quicker this way. But as I try to leave the water, I discover the terrible fact that my wading suit has ripped at the seat and the legs are full of water! The weight of the water as I exit its buoyancy makes walking next to impossible. I struggle along the shore for a while before giving up and taking back to the water.
I only go into the water to my hips, enough to counter the effects of the water inside the suit yet not so deep to make the wade a struggle. I press toward my goal, the stairway near my room at the hotel. I am making good progress pausing every few steps to listen for voices that might reveal the presence of people. All seems quiet, it is after 11:00. Then the laughter peels out from the balcony room at the hotel and I hear the conversation. Have they spotted me? I wade quickly to deeper water and crouch so only my head is above the water. It is now that I discover the fascinating phosphorescence of the plankton I disturb as I move in the water. Each arm and hand motion is accompanied by a trail of silver-white. I stop and create illusive ever-changing patterns in the water, swirls of silver, or slight curves. It's incredibly beautiful and peaceful in this little moment.
I hear sirens and fear they might herald the arrival of authorities and spotlights fingering hungrily out on the water surface, but they are fire vehicles responding to some unknown emergency. I finally get past the corner of the hotel that blocks the view of the known danger. I scan the shore for any clue of other people strolling about the premises. I see nothing so I struggle to shore and pull my heavy, water filled boots to shore. I slowly climb the shore and tackle the large rocks at the foot of the stairs. I'm up the stair and into my room in less than a minute.
I go right to the shower and work myself out of the clothes. I see the tear in the wader for the first time, a foot-long tear but I will have no trouble repairing it. I shower and soap and clean everything to make certain that all of the salt water is off. I hang all the suits to dry and settle in for the hour I have to wait before I can reverse the suits to finish the drying and go to bed.
The wade exhausts me. Despite the suit tear and the disappointment at the mud flat, I still feel some satisfaction in I explored a new watery area that has intrigued me for months.
But is this the end of the tale? No.
The next Day.
I get to the room from the conference at about 5:00 PM. I already know how to complete the repairs to the suit. I tape the outside of the torn part with electrical tape and invert the suit. I take some old latex and my latex cement and settle about repairing the suit.
I buff the suit at the damaged point and make sure everything is clean before applying the cement to the suit and to the latex strip I have cut for a patch. I carefully press the patch into place and apply pressure with my hand to assure the bond between the two latex pieces.
I take the suit to the bathroom and begin to spread liquid latex over the patched area. I discovered some time ago that two or three layers of liquid latex applied to a patch give it addition strength. It works exceptionally well for long tears and on stress points.
I use the hotel hair dryer to speed the curing of the latex and the suit is ready for the next wade in less than an hour. I then concentrate on donning my other latex clothes for the night's activities. I put on exactly the same clothing as I did the night before. I am again immersed ever deeper into the clingy grip of latex layers. The shiny blackness of the suits emphasizes my body. I feel the stirrings of my latex-buried friend as my passion rises with each additional layer. By 7:30, I am logging onto the chat and spend the next two plus hours discussing the latex issues of the day.
At 10:00, I log off and pull the wading suit on. This time I add a military rain overall to the rain parka as added protection for the suit. I check the outside and seeing no one immediately in the area, take the quick walk to the steps and the shore. I wade out into the water and decide to explore in the other direction from the previous night. The water provides the same wonderful pressing feel to the latex as I slowly wade into the deeper spots. I feel the tightness of the latex against my skin. The cold water is barely cool by the time it passes its physical properties through five latex suits and the tee shirt. I stop in water just above my chest and find I am in mud that allows my feet to sink in about two inches, enough to anchor myself in place. I study the surface of the water and look to shore. I see cars passing along the streets. I see the low courtesy lights along the path behind the hotel winking as someone progresses along the way. Again, I have the unsubstantiated fear of discovery...I am a hundred yards from shore with only my shoulders and hooded head above water. The blackness of the clothes provides minimal reflective quality in the light of the three-quarter moon.
I move my hands in the water and observe the same florescence I encountered the previous night. I am enjoying the peace and tranquility of the quiet water, the tight latex and the protection. My wader suit is holding well and I can tell that no water is getting inside of it. I begin to massage my crotch and feel building arousal as my cock responds to the touch of the gloves pressing the latex to it. I enjoy the heightened arousal and the euphoria washing over my body. I am close to satisfaction but not making the final push beyond the point of no return. I try to fantasize with my eyes closed but the elements of the cool pressing water distract me in my thoughts.
I see the lights along the path winking again as someone, probably the same person walks back along the path. I turn my attention to the silence. The water is so still. The moonshine traces a silvery path along the quiet water. I feel buoyed and heady from the tight latex pressing against me. I love the cool of the water through my layers. I know the water is actually quite cold, even in July, but me suits keep me seductively warm. I explore my watery world and revel in the peace and tranquility. A startled goose honks and wings splash the surface as it rises in frightened flight. I smile under my hood at the idea of the goose being surprised by the sudden appearance of this unknown shiny thing.
Soon I want to finish the pleasure that the wade has awakened. I want to get ashore and back to my room. The thought of drawing some warm water into the bathtub and putting on my gas mask with inlet and outlet tubes and the latex sheathed eye ports stirs my desires. I begin to work my way to shore. One part of me wants to remain in the peaceful water, wade and explore the shore, build up the sweat and reach exhausted bliss that will assure restful sleep. But my more primitive side wants to relish the hot latex, feel the massaging material on my body and push myself to erotic arousal and explosive release. Ironically both desires will result in restful sleep and my sexual stirrings are commanding my needs.
As I pull myself into the shallows, I am happy to find the wader suit is dry inside. My repair worked and the suit provides complete security and protection. I pull onto the shore after looking for any late-night interlopers and crunch across the rocks to the stairs. I haul myself up to the walk and make the quick walk to my patio door.
Inside, I shed the rain suit and begin to fill the bath. I get my gas mask and step into the swirling water. I close the shower curtain and begin rinsing the salt water of the sound from my suit. I feel the warm water through the latex skin and the soothing heat on my tired limbs. I ease myself into the tub as the shower sprays on my chest and head.
I pull the gas mask on and make sure the inlet tube is hanging outside of the tub. I am blinded as I tug the rubber straps of the harness tight and the mask clamps to my head. The splashing water drums on the mask and my body. I use the outlet tube to rub my crotch.
Through six layers of latex, I feel the pressure of the tube against my cock and the building desire that started during the wade. I push the tube into the stretchy suit and hear the bubbles from my exhaled breath in the rising water. I feel the warmth of the bath as the water climbs the side of the tub. I lay back and let the hot ecstasy of the bath lift me to higher levels of arousal.
I slide deeper into the tub and let my mind wander into erotic thoughts as I massage my tool. I see images of latex clad vixens performing erotic dances for me. I feel their light touch through my suits as they stroke my shoulders. In my dream, I actually feel delicate pressure on my shoulder, at the back of my neck, across my chest, on my arms, and down to my wrists. My dream is so real and my cock is rock hard inside its prison. I've never imagined so vividly in my life.
Spending a night on the computer on travel.
Perhaps chatting in the Bianca Latex Lair or writing one of my stories.
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