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. Terry'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 breath was laboured. The end of the long zip at the
front was now under his balls but the weight of the top 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 the 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. Terry'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 on 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 Terry 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 tingle of good-feeling.
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 it felt. He wondered if he should have
worn his bulky bike leathers to confirm the suit would fit over
the PVC felt great clinging against his skin.
He looked out of
the window at the bright sky, hoping for a rain cloud, but there were
none 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 the
heavy-duty zips when closed, brought the legs of the suit tight down around his ankles
above his bare feet. He checked to make sure that the cuffs 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 down to 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 snug 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's upright collar so rain couldn't possibly drive
under it and down inside the suit. To add to the efficiency, the helmet
chin strap would fit tight over the face-cover and press it tight against
the face. Len and Sam, having designed it, 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
with his old waterproof mitts on, too. Perhaps he should check
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.
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 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 - and discovered 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 weather-proof 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 totally waterproof 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 the boots where they stood.
The sun was still
shining and it wouldn't be dark for a couple of hours. Because breathing
into the face mask was heating him up even more, Terry was tempted to
take the suit off and try the anorak which was designed to be worn with
the bib-and-brace. But then he decided it would be something of a challenge
to try the anorak over the top of what he already had on.
The design of the
anorak was very similar to government surplus foul weather 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.
Getting the heavy
anorak over the top of everything was more of a struggle than he'd anticipated,
mainly because the closed special face-cover he was already wearing
restricted his breathing - quite pleasurably. Terry was determined to
achieve the goal he'd set himself. Forcing his arms deep inside the
still cold solid PVC tube, the sleeves of his one-piece dragged against
the inside of the double thickness anorak arms. Deep inside the one-piece
suit the warmed-up plastic dragged against his skin. It was just the
sort of situation that turned him on. His nose and mouth, already covered
by PVC, was soon buried in the black void of the anorak interior. 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 some wriggling
he managed to force his head the final distance and it emerged through
the neck column into the peaked hood of the anorak. This was tailored
satisfyingly snug, unlike many waterproof hoods. It felt great. The
layers of plastic clinging together and creaking
and the smell was
in addition to the face cover of 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 cover the mouth and nose
of 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
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, 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 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. 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 - but 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 strap 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 additional bulk, 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 Terry's rapidly over-heating
body. It left him panting into the PVC wall which covered most of his
With a sharp snap,
the last crotch-strap fastener forced it's 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.
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 this 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? 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.
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
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 even 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 - but the
draw-string was tight around his thighs. Breathing heavily, he hunched
his shoulders to drag at the anorak to release the through-crotch flap
and 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 - and 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
it's way upwards and so burst open the crotch flap in spite of the tight
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
With the neck-flap
stuck shut and the crotch flap jammed - and 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
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.
Len for his extreme game-playing skills - his ability to challenge his
partner to his endurance 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
would be 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 his buddy totally PVC wrapped and helpless.
What was worse, Terry realised, 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.
renewed determination Terry set about solving the problem and beating
this challenge he'd stumbled into. To escape from the clinging, steaming
prison which seemed to be getting progressively more and more confining
must be possible. He'd rise to it. That's what turned him on; challenge
and fighting back. He kicked and struggled and swore. If there had been
a video camera switched on it would have sold a million copies world
wide, the squirming, writhing battle Terry put up.
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 the 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
Then, in rain, the outer cuff would accommodate waterproof mitts inside them before being securely 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 that 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, reasoned Sam, 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.
Terry 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 from the
bed he found the new, extra-long PVC over-mitts they'd ordered.
Terry now inspected
the flat 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 metal bar. These clamped his feet
well spread. When the second lock finally closed around his boot-ankle,
Sam's crotch was pressurised by the layers of PVC, and he massaged himself
tentatively - but changed his mind and continued with his deliberate
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
the tightly closed hood 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
and breathing as steadily as the limiting PVC would allow. Pulling on
one heavily padded leather glove he then closed the anorak inner cuff
over it, 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. He was used to using these
and having them used on him. They fitted well over the layers of glove
and mitt - and the strap lock closed without any trouble. The next one
would be more of a problem, he knew. But Terry enjoyed challenges.
His stomach muscles were getting tense, keeping himself sitting upright with ankles clamped rigid to the bed-end - but that was all part of the self-imposed challenge. Getting
the bike glove onto his other hand was achieved with surprising ease,
but closing the anorak cuff around it took a bit of fiddling. The first
padded over-mitt slid on OK but getting the increasingly bulky hand
into the newer and longer second mitt was a satisfyingly testing manoeuvre.
Now, with two hands
thickly mitted, closing the outer 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
well-spread and 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.
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 thickly
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 several times before, after
a determined attempt he felt it click around the metal anchor point.
The job was done.
there and thought "Oh Fuck!"
play different games. Terry had been tying himself up since he was a
child. He'd discovered that waterproofs turned him on before he'd ever
owned any leather. Since puberty he'd known that bundling up got him
horny as well as hot. The inside of the government surplus sleeping
bag he'd persuaded his parents to buy him for Scout camp was living
proof of that. Most of the other lads had had colourful nylon gear at
camp - and several young toughs had willingly accepted Terry's challenge
that they couldn't keep him confined and unable to escape from his rugged
ex-army hooded bag. The khaki waterproof covering could really generate
some heat - and his progression towards today's self-challenge had been
thoroughly enjoyable (but only after the event in a few cases).
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 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
- and then smiled behind the wall of PVC at the mental pun he'd just
made. Would he shoot his load before Len came home in six hours time
- or challenge himself to save it?
The mind trips Terry
travelled out on when inescapably restrained took several forms. Most
often he'd occupy 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 at thigh-level but wide to either side of the bed, was beginning to put
a strain on his elbows. Terry tried to re-adjust - and the 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 and loosen the clinging hood
and face cover. 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.
Stewart - Feb. 2004
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FANTASY & REALITY IN PVC