Where the rubber guys hang out

One of my favorite sites of all time is Rubberzone. They have tons of original pictures, stories and videos, plus user profiles where you can meet like-minded guys. The gear is heavy-duty and intense, the excitement is real and genuine, and the site’s followers are loyal and enthusiastic. I am one of them!

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Here is a screen shot of their current issue, which as you can see is jam-packed with awesome content:

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Also at Rubberzone, you’ll want to check out their extensive library of back issues. You can spend days or weeks getting lost in there. It’s fucking hot if you ask me.

 

Lashed and Stowed

By Straitjacketed

Chain links clanked softly along the metal rail as Midshipman Tommy Bell tried to make himself comfortable – or, at least, less uncomfortable. He was used to bedding down in his oilskin anorak and bib & brace trousers – his “’skins” as they called them – from time to time, when all hands were needed on deck and the crew had to sleep in shifts; he wasn’t used to trying to sleep in oilskins with both wrists cuffed behind him and chained to the hull.

With hindsight, it made sense. The new crew members they’d picked up in Fishguard, to augment the vessel’s skeleton crew, had seemed a bit … off, somehow, not quite right. Rougher than the crews he was used to serving alongside, and they all seemed to know each other. Tommy had got the sense of something in the air, nods and winks exchanged behind his back. Nothing sufficiently tangible to justify involving the Captain but now, shackled below decks, he wished he had done.

Continue reading Lashed and Stowed

Undercover – Chapter 5

By lthr_jock

Jim kept his head down and moved along the road as fast as possible, eyes fixed on the pavement, only glancing up to try to see a street sign and to avoid walking into people. Even so, he attracted attention very quickly as people noticed the collar and wristbands standing out starkly against his skin. Worse, his cock was being kept solid down his right leg by the cock-ring was a noticeable bulge in the bleachers and he heard several shocked comments.

After what seemed like an age, he got to the end of the road to where he could see a street-sign. Ignoring the road name, he looked quickly at the post-code on the sign — NE9 — bloody hell, he was miles from home. He shoved his hands into his pockets and found nothing inside. Without money he couldn’t even get a tube, bus or taxi. Jim shivered at the predicament he was in, chose a roughly south westerly direction and kept walking.

Continue reading Undercover – Chapter 5