    
Uncle_ed
New member
Username: Uncle_ed
Post Number: 2
Registered: 05-2006
| | Posted on Saturday, May 13, 2006 - 05:55 am: | 
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This is a story I wrote for my wife.
As a newbie to this site I hope it is a good start!
A STORY FOR A RAINY DAY
Uncle Ed
I know that you are feeling playful. You have locked the bathroom door but not before selecting your favourite outfit from the special wardrobe. You had polished the latex on the outside so it gleamed as it caught the light and talced the inner layer so that you will be able to easily slide into it.
You adore the black latex maid’s dress with its high top and short puff sleeves, elasticated waist and pleated skirt that is so short it doesn’t quite cover your bottom. This is of no matter as you always wear it with white latex panties covered in layers of frills that keep your arse and cunt wet with your juices. You wear high black stockings held up by six taut suspenders that in turn fasten to a suspender belt. On your feet you select high black boots, polished to a deep shine.
The dress is adorned with layers of white frills and has a cute little apron that ties behind you. It has a petticoat also of white frilled latex layers that hold the skirt out and swish against your legs when you move.
On your arms you wear long black latex gloves.
The maid is a fantasy of submission. Her only function is to serve and give pleasure with no thought for herself. She may be used in any way I see fit, whether I choose to ignore her-you, or deign to admit your presence by giving you an order.
Your bath is finished and you have dried yourself. You make sure that you are smooth and well covered with talcum powder before walking through to the bedroom. You stand and pose looking at me over your shoulder through the veil of rich auburn hair. You bend down to reach for the dress on the bed. As you touch the latex you wriggle your backside at me, a movement designed to be provocative and indeed it is. I vow that you will be wriggling again soon.
You lift the dress and rub it against you before raising it above your head and pulling it down over your head, then your body. The latex rustles with that smooth slapping sound as it is drawn down. You shake your hair free and arch your neck, mutely asking me to fasten the zipper at the back. I do so and watch as the two flaps of shining latex pull together, hiding your tanned skin from my view. You stand there, head bowed, hair falling down and you half turn towards me. You look so vulnerable especially as the message you send me is one of devotion to me and my desires no matter what they may be.
I move to your side and lift the sweet-smelling hair clear of your neck and kiss it gently. You quiver and tense up. Then you relax and shiver before facing me, taking a step back and dropping into a curtsey. Your face is turned down but you use those eyes at me, looking at me. I know no other woman who can use her eyes like that. I always react.
I recall an author, Joseph Heller I believe, who once used the expression “the look of simpering idiocy of a woman in heat”. He should have met you.
You sit on the bed and lift one long leg. You have the best legs I have ever seen. You point your toes and start the long process of pulling on the latex stockings, smoothing and tugging at the thin black rubber all the while cursing quietly under your breath. You don’t really enjoy this very much and I try hard not to laugh aloud at your efforts. You finish the left leg and smirk at me. You know what I’m thinking and you nearly become irritable but instead start with the right leg stocking.
The bedroom in now starting to have its own smell, a combination of soap, talcum powder, rubber and woman. A truly unbeatable combination and I am very aroused.
The sight of skin and shiny latex together is erotic. When mixed with the sound and smell of your efforts it is nearly too much for me. I want you there and then but have other plans for the afternoon so I wait and feel my prick leaking pre-sex lubricant.
You pause before lifting your dress and encircling your waist with the suspender belt. I wonder how many men have watched the sweet way in which a woman twists to fasten her suspenders? There is that final moment when she straightens and stretches her back knowing that she is no longer just dressing but falling into that age-old role of seductress.
You bend over and put on your short high-heeled boots. As you stand back up the heels make you push your bottom out as your posture is altered.
You turn, the skirt flaring and your bum cheeks flashing at me. You pick up the frilled latex knickers and balancing on one leg hook them over your boots. You insert the other leg and then slowly, deliberately slowly you pull them up. They snap as they ascend until you mould them into place, the suspenders partially hidden under them. I know that the feeling of wearing them turns you on and that you will shortly feel your wetness spreading. This knowledge I find stimulating as I know you will be ready to take me when I decide the time to be right, that act made easy by the slits in the latex seat that are obscured by the rows of frills. The long gloves take only a moment for you. You fumble as you tie the frivolous apron around you. Then you are ready. You turn in front of me and only your neck, upper arms and thigh tops are showing. The rest of you is shiny black except for the rows of white ornamentation.
I kiss you and pat your bottom, my fingers feeling the delight of bare skin above the stocking-tops.
I lead you downstairs and you look up at me, puzzled. I open the back door and take you out into the garden that is dripping wet from the summer rain that falls. We walk arm in arm down the path that leads to the meadow and the stream behind our house. We are fortunate not to be overlooked but it adds a piquancy to know that we could be seen by a random passer-by..
The rain makes your outfit even shinier as the raindrops run down. I slide a hand up your leg collecting rainwater on the way and rub it into the skin of your inner thigh. You respond in an unexpected way. I don’t notice you reaching up to shake an overhanging branch and am unprepared for the sudden deluge of water that soaks me.
With a girlish giggle you break free from me and scamper away down the path, your skirt flying and your ruffled bum bobbing. Unfortunately your boots aren’t meant for running and you trip. Flying off the path you land on your side on the sodden grass, raising a cloud of spray as you land. Unhurt, you sit up, arms behind you, hands flat on the grass and legs bent, water swirling round your bottom. You look so foolish that I can’t help but laugh as I offer you a hand to stand. I raise you up and drag you dripping to the small bridge over the stream I sit on the stone wall and pull you over my knees. I flip back your dress and pull your wet knickers up into the crack of your arse, revealing most of your cheeks to my hand.
I spank you like the naughty little girl you really are. You squeal and struggle but I continue punishing you until your bum is a deep red and your cries change to those of ecstasy rather than distress.
I stand and bend you over the low stone wall. I ensure that your maid’s panties are fitted properly as I want to feel the cold rubber against my prick and balls as I enter you. The rain cascades down your back and washes over me as I unzip myself. The water is shockingly cold but only serves to heighten my pleasure. I am unable to wait and drive deep into you through the slits in the latex feeling your tight warmth grip me. I reach around and locate your clit and tease it with my fingers of my left hand. With the right I kneed your nipples through the dress. Neither of us can make this last long. I feel my climax starting and stiffen within you so that you may feel my prick pumping and my semen gushing in you.
The act is over quickly but the build up of stimulation has been the most exciting time for us both. We need to get back indoors and dry off. We both know that this memory will linger for a long time and will fuel a more prolonged and delayed love-making. For now, though, we are satisfied and stroll back through the garden, pointing out the skid marks and the imprint of your bottom in the grass.
Later on during that night we are warm and comfortable in bed. We hear and rain and you turn to me and whisper…
Your favourite Uncle
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