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FANTASY AND REALITY IN PVC
by
Because this was Terry's day off, the manufacturer on the other side of Europe
had agreed to ship them to arrive on that day; special delivery. The e-mailed
ordering and planning seemed to have worked. Terry was home to answer the
door when the sexy foreign-looking van driver arrived.
Resisting the temptation to invite the guy in, Terry was eager to inspect
their long-planned and long awaited purchases. His partner Len was on late
shift at the factory where he headed the security team. Their shared enthusiasm
for high powered bikes had first brought them together four years ago when
Len had left the police and joined the bike courier firm Terry had worked
for since he'd left school eight years earlier.
Len often teased his partner for being locked into his teenage tearaway phase.
But he knew Terry enjoyed spending his days in his beat-up leathers, sometimes
sweating his bollocks off bundled up in his wet weather gear in the stink
and grime of London traffic. Terry's fuck-buddy play-partner gave him a hard
time about being a masochist, but Terry could give as good as he got. When
they first met the ex-copper was keen to enjoy his new freedom to play the
sort of games which were too risky to play when he was on The Force. Len had
soon sensed that the mad biker kid Terry was an ideal partner for the sort
of games which had always turned him on.
The ex-copper knew all the tricks when it came to a bit of rough-and-tumble.
He and Terry had developed some challenging, highly competitive physical games
together over the years. They were a good match for each other on many levels.
It was mid-afternoon when the packages arrived. Terry was sorry Len wasn't
home to share the excitement of opening them. But the two bulky bundles, one
to each name, were too tempting to resist. Their orders had been identical.
Terry couldn't wait to open the package with his name on it.
He discovered it was seriously heavy when he decided to take it through to
their bedroom. The packaging was efficiently tough because the bundles were
so weighty. Terry wondered what sort of person had done the strapping; the
whole surface totally wrapped around with what turned out to be unusually
strong reinforced adhesive tape. Having fetched the kitchen scissors, Terry
absently wondered where he could get some of this tape, as he tried to find
his way into the almost impregnable package. It could have interesting uses
he mused, specially in the hands of somebody who wrapped packages with such
thoroughness every day. He speculated on what sort of person at the manufacturers
did this wrapping. Their web site was exclusively heavy duty bike waterproofs
but not a fetish site on the face of it. However, during exchanges of e-mails
when fixing details of their custom-order, the owner of the small firm had
happily accommodated their every requirement. Terry and Len had decided they
weren't the first PVC perverts to be ordering from this specialist company.
Having at last fought his way through the packaging, Terry's pulse-rate increased
as he examined the various shining new PVC garments. The bib-and-brace high-waisted
trousers were everything he'd hoped for, the double-thickness anorak was heavier
than he'd expected. But it was the one-piece suit with the specially designed
collar that really excited him. In his years of biking he'd never had a rain-suit
which totally prevented water from driving between collar and helmet. This
PVC firm had carried out the special modification he and Len had described
and sketched. Terry couldn't wait to climb into the stiff and heavy one-piece
suit and check it out. What's more, as he was home alone with nothing better
to do, he decided to indulge himself and strip off first so his naked body
could enjoy the cold, smooth new PVC all over.
The autumn afternoon was warm, but Terry was shivering slightly when he first
sat and tried to force his feet down into the shiny black tubes of the PVC
suit legs. The thick fabric resisted because folding and packing had caused
them to stick together inside. His bare feet pushed and the layers gradually
parted to allow his legs to extend. Sam's shivering was more excitement than
the cold clinging feel of the slightly rigid double-thickness material. As
soon as both feet were freed from the plastic tubes, he stood up. As he stooped
to haul the crumpled suit further up his legs his cock was rigid. When the
back of the suit touched his arse, his cock twitched even more and his breathing
was laboured. The end of the long zip at the front was now under his balls
but the weight of the top-half was dragging everything down again at the back.
Anybody who has tried to climb into a one-piece suit or tight coveralls knows
that getting both arms into the sleeves behind your back can be difficult.
With thick PVC, cold and inflexible - over naked skin - with the insides of
the sleeves stuck together Terry had to put up something of a fight. He made
fists to force their way into the tops of the sleeves and felt the fabric
part reluctantly. The uncomfortable angle of his arms while trying to drive
both sleeves open resulted in him squatting with bent knees to get 'under'
the armhole entrances.
He'd had the same problem with a neoprene wet suit he'd bought long ago (but
still occasionally wore secretly under his bike leathers just for the hell
of it). Now, his shoulders hunched as he tried to drag what would eventually
be the neck of the suit upwards. He wished Len was here to help him. The lovers
often had to help one another out of their one-piece leathers after a cold
ride, when fingers were numb. Or rather, Len might hinder by springing some
surprise which would soon have Terry helpless in an unexpected way. Sam's
cock grew even stiffer as he remembered some of the devilish tricks Len liked
to play. Here with his arms almost immobilised behind him in the sleeves,
he was suddenly glad Len wasn't there to take advantage.
The zipper was grating against the back of his naked shoulders as he tried
to squeeze/drag/force the zipper edge forwards onto either one shoulder or
the other. Eventually he managed it and his brawny shoulders slid into the
void. His arms travelled the final distance into the sleeves, and as he straightened
his legs his shoulders forced their way up into the stiff-with-cold PVC interior
of the suit. He reached to free the collar which was trapped inside, behind
his neck. He was conscious that raising his arms in the thick suit was not
easy, but he freed the collar and wriggled his shoulders to more comfortably
fill out the top of the suit.
Suddenly aware of his cock sticking out of the front of the PVC, Terry was
glad to see that their instructions to make the front zip long enough to reach
under his crotch had been carried out. Even so, closing the zip up past his
rampant cock demanded all his attention if he wasn't going to trap the skin
or at least some hair in the zip. Luckily, they'd asked for generous backing
strips behind all zips to keep water out, plus strips to Velcro over the outside
of each zip as a double seal. Terry drew the sturdy front zip tight up to
his neck, smoothing the double flaps to close them. As his hand pressed the
zip-cover shut he flexed his shoulders, bent his knees slightly as his body
explored the all-over feeling of the suit. The cold rigidity of the PVC was
already beginning to warm, and his shivering had become a pleasant feel-good
tingle.
Measurements they'd supplied to the firm had allowed for their suits to fit
over bike leathers, but Terry was delighted to discover that although roomy,
the heavy and double thickness plastic had some elasticity. Over his tingling
naked skin he was surprised how snug-all-over it felt. He wondered if he should
have worn his bulky bike leathers to confirm that the suit would fit over
- but the PVC felt great clinging against his skin.
He looked out of the window at the bright sky, hoping for a rain cloud, but
none was in sight. He wanted to go out on his bike and get the feel of the
new gear. But in the sunshine he would have looked ridiculous however good
it felt.
He occupied himself carefully closing the waterproof covers across the long
zips on his lower-legs. Wide enough to get a boot down, the legs had full
vent PVC backing panels to make them totally waterproof. But when closed,
the heavy-duty zips brought the legs of the suit tight down around his ankles
above his bare feet. He checked to make sure they'd also expand to fit over
bike boots. Bending forward tightened the PVC around his arse and shoulders,
sticking slightly but feeling wonderful.
The sleeves also closed snug, he discovered, with fully waterproof zips at
the wrists. Under gauntlets or mitts the double cuffs would be totally proof
against driving rain. More strips of Velcro-ed closed to cover the outside
of each zip. He closed them all.
Next he turned his attention to the suit collar which was exactly as ordered.
Tall and upstanding, it fitted unusually high and sung around the neck. Velcro
allowed this to adjust comfortably across the throat, the plastic lining feeling
particularly good against his neck. The outside of the collar front was totally
covered by a generous Velcro patch. This they'd asked for; for the attachment
of a specially designed cover for the chin and lower face which would fit
under a crash helmet.
Len and Terry had experimented with leather hoods and face covers under their
helmets but these had impeded vision; which was OK in their bedroom games
but not when biking - although Terry had experienced some precarious moments
as a sightless and gagged pillion passenger behind Len.
The specially commissioned PVC mouth cover was designed to extended down around
the chin and throat, but also up over the nose. The idea was that in cold
weather they'd be breathing warmer air and the PVC would smell great. This
attachment sealed itself to the suit upright collar so rain couldn't possibly
drive under it and inside the suit. To add to the efficiency, the new face-cover
had a tailored chin, so the closed-face helmet would fit tight over it. Len
and Sam, having designed this, were confident that in future they'd be totally
weatherproof in the worst rainstorm, and they often rode in the rain just
for the hell of it.
Terry fiddled to position the special cover onto the heavy-duty Velcro at
the front of the collar, and then closed it behind his neck. His mouth and
nose now totally encased in pungent new PVC, he sampled the air flow. He was
tempted to get his crash helmet there and then to try it on over the new face
protector. He also remembered they'd each ordered new extra-long waterproof
mitts to replace standard ones which they used to cover bike gloves in really
shitty weather. Perhaps he should try the new mitts next. Would they fit over
his thick leather bike gloves? Perhaps try his old waterproof mitts over them,
too. Perhaps he should check - but suddenly Terry remembered that he wasn't
even wearing any boots!
His excited mind turned back to the anorak and bib-and-brace over-trousers
which still lay on the leather-covered bed looking so inviting. Encased as
he already was and breathing heavily behind the face-cover, Terry couldn't
help pawing over the remaining pile of pungent PVC. He wished Len was at home
so they could try it all on together. The sun was still shining so no chance
of going out, and Len wouldn't be back before midnight to share his enthusiasm.
The full-length sealed suit was beginning to warm up from his body heat. He
liked the way it stuck to his naked skin as he moved. The fabric rubbed together
inside it's double layers, dragging slightly giving a nice feeling. The sensation
of being totally encased was even more intense than in his full leathers.
This was different. It was almost a tough PVC prison, he mused, and his cock
surged at the thought.
He rubbed his arms against his body and they also clung sensuously. When he
walked around experimentally, the fabric between his legs stuck slightly and
squeaked. The overall effect was getting him really horny. He felt for his
stiff dick through the clinging fabric, discovering in the process that the
PVC was softening and clinging even tighter as the body heat increased. He
loved it.
Picking up the bib-and-brace trousers he was tempted to take the suit off
and try the anorak and pants to feel the difference. Then, he had an irresistible
urge to add the bib-and-brace trousers over the suit. That would intensify
the feeling, he reasoned. Before doing this he decided it would be logical
to add a pair of heavy duty waterproof boots (just to get the full effect).
Often, when passing a fire station he'd seen the waiting boots with trousers
already on them, left ready to step into in an emergency. Terry had a sturdy
pair of tall heavy-duty rubber wellies with steel toe-caps. He dragged them
from the back of the wardrobe and decided , as an experiment, to carefully
thread the bulky new PVC over-trousers onto his the boots where they stood.
Still wearing the suit complete with face-cover, bending down was problematical.
So he stood the boots side by side on the bed before starting to manoeuvre
the legs of the new bib-style tall over-trousers down around over each boot.
This took a lot of time and he enjoyed every minute of it, cramping the stiff
PVC around each boot. For good measure, he remembered to tighten the bottoms
of each over-trouser leg around the boot ankles. Then he stood the seriously
heavy tangle of PVC and rubber boots (the ones with steel toe-protectors)
on the floor.
They looked great just standing there. Even better was the feeling when he
plunged his bare feet into the wellies, carefully feeding his suit-legs down
inside them. Then began the process of hauling the over-trousers up over the
one-piece suit legs. PVC surfaces dragged against one another and made it
a satisfying tussle.
Dragged up from where the tightened ankle-straps closed around each boot,
the chest-high front panel took some effort to pull up over the inner PVC.
Straps from the back were designed to connect to the 'bib-and-brace' front
to straps, over his shoulders. These soon tightened satisfyingly over his
shoulders as he closed the heavy snap-fasteners. They felt tight over the
one-piece suit, but as he flexed his shoulders to test them, the snaps didn't
break away. The connecting straps added pressure on the suit beneath and made
his skin tingle more as he deliberately hunched his shoulders and raised his
arms experimentally The bulk and dragging of PVC against PVC made this quite
difficult. A wonderful feeling and it looked sensational in the big bedroom
mirror.
The anorak design was very similar to government surplus foul weather two-piece
suits he and Len had bought when they first got together, and often played
around in. These had hoods with storm peaks (or beaks as the Americans called
them). Closed-fronted and belted at the waist, there were draw-strings at
neck and hips to keep even the worst 'foul weather' out.
But, getting the heavy anorak over the top of everything was much more of
a struggle than he'd anticipated. This was mainly because the special chin
and mouth cover he was already wearing restricted his breathing, although
quite pleasurably.
Sod it! Terry was determined to achieve the goal he'd set himself. Forcing
his arms deep inside the still cold solid PVC tube which was the body of the
extra garment, the sleeves of the one-piece suit he was wearing dragged against
the inside of the double thickness anorak. Meanwhile, inside everything, the
warmed-up suit dragged against his skin. It was just the sort of situation
which turned him on. His nose and mouth, already covered by PVC, was soon
buried inside the black void of the anorak interior while his hands forced
their way into the stiff sleeves.
For what seemed like several minutes, he was trapped half-way in and halfway
out until he thought the air was going to run out. But with determined bending,
stretching and wriggling he managed to force his firsts down the sleeves and
his head the final distance until it emerged through the neck column. This
head remained inside the peaked hood of the anorak, which was tailored satisfyingly
snug; unlike many waterproof hoods. It felt great. All over his body, head
and even face the layers of plastic clinging together and creaking - and the
smell was intoxicating.
Now, in addition to the chin and nose cover attached to the one-piece suit,
the anorak hood was deep enough to really wall in his face as well as the
back of his head. Terry's eager fingers found the draw-string which tightened
the hood against wind and weather. Then the flap to pull the bulk of fabric
in closer around his throat could be closed with snap fasteners somewhere
at the side of his neck. In combination with everything underneath, the anorak
neck flap took some closing.
His heavily layered arms were getting tired by the time the four heavy-duty
snaps were forced home. Giving his arms a rest he panted for breath behind
the PVC cover which was now pressing tighter against his face. Next, making
a determined effort, he secured the substantial flap which was designed to
protect the mouth and nose when wearing the anorak hood.
As the reluctant snaps clunked into their spring sockets, this added two more
layers to the coverings already across his lower face, leaving only his eyes
visible. Terry lowered his aching arms in their multi-layers of heavy PVC
and his breath grew even more laboured as he now surveyed himself in the big
mirrored wardrobe. Peering out of the limited space in the hood, only his
eyes showed above the tightly stretched PVC lower face covers, and were shaded
by the substantial storm peak. It all looked fantastic, and the smell of so
much new PVC across his nose and mouth was what - breathtaking.
Terry found it was now almost impossible to look downwards. The hood opening
was reduced to a slot, and around his neck the draw-string plus tight flaps
and many layers, reduced his mobility considerably. In the mirror he saw that
there was still the waist belt of the anorak to fasten and the draw-string
around the bottom hem of the bulky garment to tighten. He was determined to
go all the way now.
After a struggle the efficient belt was cinched as tight as it would go, the
double row of heavy snaps they'd asked for, ensuring it wouldn't pop open.
The lower draw-string wasn't so easy to pull taught and knot, it being somewhere
down around his thighs. He could see it only in the mirror as he fiddled to
tighten it all.
This achieved, he now relaxed to survey the intensified effect. His waist
was gathered in so tightly, light bounced off the many folds in the shiny
fabric and looked magnificent - but he suddenly remembered the anorak was
supposed to have a through-crotch flap. This was designed to keep the anorak
pulled well down around the hips while working outdoors in 'foul wind and
weather'. He remembered seeing this flap tucked up out-of the-way inside the
back of the anorak when he first inspected it. At this stage it might be difficult
to reach and release. In spite of the bulk, he was determined to find and
add the final flap to get the full effect. Could this be achieved?
Turning, he forced his hooded and masked head around hoping, via the mirror,
to locate the through-crotch flap behind the back hem of the long anorak.
It was a strain on his neck and shoulders and his thickly layered arms wouldn't
reach as far as necessary without considerable dragging of PVC against PVC
against PVC. He was sweating and breathing heavily by the time he managed
to yank the crotch panel free of the Velcro which held it out of the way when
not in use.
Now the flap was hanging down behind him Terry took a deep breath inside his
various face covers before straining forward so his hands could blindly grapple
somewhere between his legs to find the crotch flap. Eventually he caught hold
of it and wrenched it forwards through his bulky-with-PVC thighs. He knew
there was a group of six strong press-studs at the lower front edge of the
anorak. These were supposed to keep the flap firmly fastened. He and Len had
discussed this design-point when they were ordering.
Would the snaps be strong enough to resist the stress when lifting a leg over
a bike? The manufacturer had assured them they would be, but he'd promised
to add a couple more fasteners to be completely sure. Now the draw-string
was tight and with the un-planned-for bulk of the suit under it all, these
snaps were being something of a struggle to close. Not being able to look
down that far, getting the six snap-fasteners all rammed into place took some
very determined tugging. This effort sapped the energy from Sam's rapidly
over-heating body. It left him panting into the PVC wall which covered most
of his face.
With a sharp snap, the last crotch-strap fastener forced its way home. Because
the whole anorak was now pulled down so much tighter, Terry experimented to
find out if movement would pop them open again. The amount of leg movement
was quite limited when he put the snaps to the test, but he was pleased to
discover they held really firm.
Satisfied, Terry took more time to appreciate the look and feel of the stiff
enclosing many layers of fabric. The elasticity really held everything together.
Inside the layers, Terry began to be more aware of how his body was heating
up. It felt sensational.
Again he walked over to the window, hopeful for some signs of clouds so he
could get the bike out. The PVC dragged between his legs more than before
because the anorak was now pulled tightly downwards by the crotch strap and
in at the side of his thighs by the draw-string. The sun was still shining,
damn it, so no way could he venture outside dressed like this. He decided
he'd have to wait until it started to get dark, which would be at least two
hours.
Two hours? Decision time. The gear felt so good! So he would set himself the
challenge of keeping it on for two hours, including keeping the several layers
of face covers closed. Terry liked challenges. Better when set by Len, but
in the past he'd often set himself endurance challenges. And this gear felt
so fantastic he decided to stick with it. Stick? His skin was certainly sticking
to the now warm and supple PVC beneath all those layers. And the double fabric
was sticking together.
Terry again looked himself over in the bedroom mirrors before flinging himself
onto the bed to wait. Two hours. He could handle it.
Rolling around energetically, he concentrated on his naked flesh which was
becoming sensitised by the fabric. The PVC was no longer so stiff, but the
way the slick fabric was becoming progressively more 'clinging' was a real
turn-on - but suddenly he realised he needed to piss.
Blindly, his hands explored the front of the anorak in search of a flies opening.
There wasn't one, of course. But there was one in the over-trousers. Was there
one in the suit beneath them? He tried to remember. His hands felt for the
knot in the draw-string which, in combination with the through-crotch strap
had pulled everything so much tighter. Groping for the knot he'd tied, he
was relieved to feel it loosen as an end of the lace came free. But then he
discovered that pulling the lace had, in fact, turned the bow he'd tied into
a serious knot. Also, his arms inside the thick coverings were sticking to
the plastic more than ever. He tried to achieve more arm power, but the sticking
together of internal layers was inhibiting movement quite drastically. As
he struggled to stand up, layers of PVC around his legs stuck together like
glue. He really had to force his way off the bed. Once upright he discovered
that he could not raise his arms above his head. He'd have to drag the anorak
off. No, the draw-string was tight around his thighs so that would be difficult.
Breathing heavily, he hunched his shoulders to drag at the anorak to release
the through-crotch flap. The damn thing stayed fixed.
Behind the double face-covers his hot breath was wetting the inner PVC. He
felt sweat trickle down inside his chin and collar, and the air he was getting
tasted of warm plastic. His fingers ripped at the snaps holding the face-cover
closed and somehow the snaps refused to open. Suddenly he remembered something
the sales-blurb for the suits had said about the fasteners being a special
type of safety snaps. There was a trick to opening them, and he couldn't remember
what it was. He couldn't breathe and he was dying for a piss.
The metal snaps which held his neck so rigid were also resisting all attempts
to open them. He hoped that by hunching his shoulders the anorak would force
its way upwards and so burst open the crotch flap in spite of the knotted
draw-string. He huffed and puffed but the layers of fabric remained as firmly
glued together than ever. Even his legs were beginning to stick together and
the energy was draining out of his rapidly over-heating body.
With the neck-flap stuck shut and the crotch flap jammed, even if he got the
anorak hem loose, he remembered the battle he'd had getting the anorak to
slide down over the bib-and-brace and one piece suit which now seemed to be
not only melting but welding the layered surfaces together. He was trapped
and he knew it.
Resolutely he tried to calm himself. He lay on the bed to think. But he could
only think he needed to piss so bad it hurt. If he had to piss himself, with
all that waterproof it would, he decided, stay inside. Just fill his boots.
Much more worrying. He could only imagine what might happen if he was still
stuck (literally) in all this PVC when Len got home from work.
Terry loved Len for his extreme game-playing skills, his ability to challenge
his partner to his limits and beyond. Terry remembered several examples of
Len's implacable nature when it came to forcing his play-partner to deal with
a challenging predicament if he couldn't find a way out of it. If he was still
in this PVC prison when Len got home, Terry ran the risk of being in it until
Len decided otherwise. Forget two hours - forget six hours - forty-eight hours
was the record so far - a gruelling experience Terry would never forget. But
also one he still jerked off over a couple of years after the event.
If Terry hadn't already been sweating buckets into the interior of all this
PVC casing he would have broken out into a sweat at the thought of Len coming
home around midnight to find Terry totally PVC wrapped and helpless. What
was worse, Terry realised that after Len's late shift tonight he would be
off duty for four days straight. It would not be the first time Len had rung
the bike courier firm Terry worked for to say that their employee was unavoidably
unavailable for work for a couple of days.
Could he fill a bath with cold water, he wondered? Would a shower cool and
unglue the PVC layers? It wouldn't open the heavy-duty 'trick snaps', the
other side of his brain reasoned. It would make the draw-string of the anorak
even more impossible to loosen. Even the snaps on the belt were impossible
to open. Was there anybody in the flat downstairs, he asked himself? No, they
were out at work, and anyway the flats were well sound-insulated . Could he
even ride his bike with so many layers of gear on? Where would he go if he
could? And he couldn't get a crash helmet on. Might it be worth getting arrested
rather than Len find him and have his wicked way with him? Could he cut the
gear off if he was willing to sacrifice it?
Almost on the point of exhaustion, Terry's brain cleared. He lay on the leather-covered
bed and with a sense of relief rather than defeat, peed into the depths of
his multiple waterproof coverings. His hands massaged his cock through the
now quite soft and flexible layers and he concentrated on getting his breath
back to a more normal pace.
His hands were free and his fingers explored the special double cuffs of the
anorak sleeves. He'd always been turned-on by these well designed two-layer
cuffs of his old oilskins. The new firm had replicated them very well. The
under cuff was designed to Velcro closed snugly OVER the wrists of thick bike
gauntlets. Then, in rain, the outer cuff would snap-fasten closed accommodate
over waterproof mitts inside them before snap-fasten closed over them to seal
them further. Inside padded gloves and thick waterproof mitts the fingers
were almost rendered useless. Terry lay there wondering if the snaps on the
anorak cuffs were the ones which wouldn't open once closed. He experimentally
closed one of the snaps and then the second. He pulled and they opened again.
Terry guessed this was because on cuffs, the single-direction safety snaps
weren't necessary. He was somehow disappointed that once closed he could open
them again. But then again, reasoned Terry to himself, with his thick gloves
and perhaps two pairs of waterproof mitts on, perhaps his fingers wouldn't
be able to open them once he'd closed them.
He was arriving at a tempting set of new possibilities.
Using what was left of his energy, he dragged himself off the bed and went
to find his bike gloves and thickest waterproof mitts. Moving with deliberation
he came back with them plus a few other items. Clearing the packaging off
the bed he found the new, extra-long PVC over-mitts they'd ordered.
Terry now inspected the metal spreader bar he'd brought from the toy cupboard.
He checked that the locks were open because he'd deliberately left the keys
in the other room. Once locked, they wouldn't open again and the solidly lockable
ankle spreader had attachments which fixed it to the foot of their bed. It
was a device both he and Len had put to strenuous test on many occasions.
Terry had decided to challenge himself to survive the six hours until Len
got home - plus anything that his lover might enjoy subjecting him to after
that. This, he convinced himself, was a present for the man who'd brought
him so much pleasure in the past - a present they could both enjoy, even if
Terry might only start to enjoy it once it was over and he'd survived it.
Endurance and survival - two stimulating watchwords in their game-playing
Sitting on the edge of the bed Terry forced his body forward to fix his boot
ankles into the sturdy lockable straps on the metal bar. These clamped his
feet well spread. When the second lock finally closed around his boot-ankle,
Terry's crotch was pressurised by the layers of PVC, and he massaged himself
tentatively, then changed his mind and continued with his deliberate commitment.
Positioning himself sitting in the middle of the leather-covered bed, it took
him considerable effort to attach the clips on the ankle-spreader irrevocably
to the foot of their sturdy, specially designed metal bed frame (the scene
of many of their challenges and battles). His heart was now thumping, mainly
because he'd passed the point of no return (the keys were in the next room),
but also because of the strain to stay sitting upright while he assembled
the rest of the equipment necessary to his plan. Breathing with some effort
inside his tightly closed-in face he placed the heavy bike gloves, the two
pairs of waterproof mitts and two other straps, where he could grope for them.
Never having tried this before, Terry took things slowly, savouring the building
suspense while breathing as steadily as the limiting PVC would allow. Pulling
on one heavily padded leather glove he then closed the anorak inner cuff to
seal it in. He decided to complete one hand before attempting the other (which
he knew, would be considerably more difficult). The first mitt - the old waterproof
one with which he'd often struggled in the pouring rain when out on his bike
- went on easily over his familiar bike gloves. The new PVC mitt was longer,
and getting it up in between the double storm cuff of the anorak took time
but Terry enjoyed completing the process successfully. Then the coup-de-grass;
because the snaps on the anorak cuff weren't the lockable kind, he'd brought
out a pair of highly efficient locking wrist restraints. These he was used
to using or having them used on him. They fitting well over the layers of
glove and mitt. Then the strap lock snugly around the multi-gloved closed
without any trouble. The next one would be a lot more of the problem, he knew.
But Terry enjoyed challenges.
His stomach muscles were getting tense, keeping himself sitting upright with
ankles clamped to the end of the bed. But that was all part of the self-imposed
challenge. Getting the bike glove onto his other hand was achieved with surprising
ease one-handedly, but closing the anorak cuff around it took a bit of fiddling.
The old padded over-mitt slid over the leather glove OK - but getting the
increasingly bulky hand into the newer, longer mitt was a satisfyingly testing
manoeuvre.
Now, with two hands thickly mitted, closing the remaining snaps and adding
the lockable wrist strap needed real concentration - especially because it
was now getting dark. Terry realised he couldn't reach the light switch now
he'd locked his ankles to the bed. He'd already accepted that he'd past the
point of no return so, what the hell!
It took time, and eventually his stomach muscles gave out and he had to lie
back. Feet firmly anchored, he worked his body further up the leathered bed,
his PVC back squeaking and dragging. Once his legs were straight, the spreader
ensured he remained on his back. He could not roll. But his arms were free
if somewhat impeded by the thick layering of the double-double sleeves. He
held the remaining wrist strap up before his limited vision through the eye
slot, and eventually achieved his goal. The strap-lock clicked with what to
Terry was only a muffled clunk heard through the hood. The mitts were now
locked on until the key-holder decided otherwise.
Being Terry, this was not the end of the elaborate process. From each wrist
restraint a mountaineer's safety snap-hook dangled. These useful devices had
been an inspiration to both Terry and Len when they first discovered them.
They'd snap around a bar easily, but it then took two hands to pull back the
guard before pressing the trigger to release the hook. Two hands to open,
one could close them.
Breathing deeply Terry groped for the edge of the metal bed frame where he
located one of the many anchor-points. Through the much-padded mitt, his leather
gloved fingers found the safety hook hanging from his wrist. The right hand
one snapped onto the bed frame successfully. In order to attach the left,
Terry needed to drag his body further across the bed to reach out his heavily
encased arm to the far side of the frame. With layered fingers he fumbled
and lost the snap-lock twice before, after a third determined attempt, he
felt it click around the metal anchor point. The job was done.
Terry lay there and thought 'Oh Fuck!'
Today, with a skilled and fiendishly creative play-partner, anything could
happen. So, here he was, inescapably tied down, packaged head to boots in
double-layers of double thickness PVC and already soggy beneath all of it.
Terry tugged at the wrist restraints and knew they would not slide off in
spite of the glove and double mitts under them. He himself had made sure they
could not slide. He humped upwards with his pelvis and regretted that he and
Len had never got around to putting a mirror above their bed. He should have
remembered to switch on the video surveillance camera they sometimes left
running during their 'encounters'. But it was already getting dark, and he
was there until midnight and beyond.
In the past Terry had spent hours in inescapable and often uncomfortable restraint
wondering why he landed himself in these predicaments. But he knew why. They
kept him rock hard and dribbling pre-cum most of the time. His cock was hard
again now deep under all the PVC and he'd already cum at least once. He wriggled
to stimulate himself, but it would take a lot of effort to bring himself off
again without the use of his hands. He writhed experimentally to see what
he could achieve, but the restricted breathing soon had him panting. He'd
have another shot at it later, he thought. He then smiled behind the wall
of PVC at the mental pun he'd just made. Would he shoot another load before
Len came home in six hours time - or challenge himself to save it?
The mind trips Terry travelled while inescapably restrained took several forms:
most often he occupied the time dreaming up suitably punishing revenge for
the predicament Len had manoeuvred him into. On this occasion he began by
speculating on Len's response to getting home from a gruelling week of late
shifts and finding this 'gift' Terry had contrived for him. Len was bloody-minded
enough to express no surprise, make himself some supper and go sleep in the
next room without comment, leaving Terry to 'stew in his own juice' as this
often caustic individual might put it. This idea suddenly turned Terry cold.
He'd kill the bastard if he took that line.
The angle of his arms, anchored wide to either side of the bed, was beginning
to add pressure to his elbows. Terry tried to re-adjust. Then a new thought
in his mind urged him to rattle the attachments just in case they weren't
as secure as he'd thought. Some tugging at his right hand did move the restraint
strap against the new PVC, but inside this the other mitt and glove showed
no sign of giving even an inch. Same with the left hand. Perhaps the safety-karabiner
hadn't attached fully or not closed properly. But it had! Terry suddenly did
some serious tugging against the bed frame, but he knew from long and bitter
experience nothing would give there.
Breathing more heavily Terry was suddenly seriously determined to find some
loophole. That was the name of the game. Had he subconsciously left himself
a get-out possibility? He rocked his head to try to loosen the clinging hood
and face coverings. Nothing budged there, except some sweat trickled into
one eye and, angrily, he tried to shake it out again. His powerful legs yanked
at the spreader bar but it and the bed-frame held firm. What else? Not a fucking
thing.
All physical possibilities had been exhausted and now (once again) Terry only
had the mental possibilities to explore in the long hours until midnight -
and, after that, it would be a different story.
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