By Doug UK

In many ways the relationship between Matthew and me is very conventional, almost vanilla. I’m often the ‘bottom’ and he’s often the ‘top’ but this does not define us. I’m a bit of a masochist, and he’s a bit of a sadist, but it’s definitely not an S and M relationship, and in no way are we master and slave.

We simply love one another passionately, and are very committed to one another. Of course, we’re kinky. We are both rubbermen, and adore rubber with a passion.

[[WARNING: This story contains extreme elements that some readers might find objectionable. Continue reading at your own risk.]]

Oh, and there’s one more thing, something that really does define our relationship and our love: we’ve never seen one another. I have no idea what my lover looks like; and he has no idea what I look like. This is how we came to this strange situation:

We met through the internet, not surprisingly on a rubberman’s contact page. I had never put a picture of my face on the site, simply a photo of myself in a full face rubber hood. Similarly Matthew had done much the same, and so the only picture I’d seen of him was in a full face hood also.

We exchanged quite a lot of messages, sharing our love of full coverage rubber. I love tight cat-suit type full body rubber, complete with gloves and feet, with a full hood leaving nothing uncovered. Matthew loves many other kinds of rubber clothing, and particular enjoys his rubber breeches and high boots, which he wears with a rubber shirt. He’s a kind of “Tom-of-Finland-in-rubber” man.

I told Matthew of my fantasies of wearing my tight rubber under everyday clothes, and how I had done it a few times. I told him how I occasionally wore my catsuit continuously for a complete weekend, from Friday evening until I’d had a shower on Monday morning.

He told me how he loved to spend all day in his breeches and boots, doing household chores; but that he’d had very few chances to wear his gear outside his own home.

We discovered that we lived about 15 miles apart, no problem except the whole of London was in between us. I had a flat in Hammersmith, he has a large Victorian house in Wanstead. We were about an hour apart by the District line train. I’ve been single since my last lover stole from me and I threw him out. Matthew’s been alone since his long-time partner died. When we met I was in my fifties, with not long to go to retirement, and Matthew was recently retired.

And then, on what turned out to be one fateful day, I revealed my other passion – that of blindfolds and full face hoods with no eye holes. Matthew said he would love to be with a blindfolded rubberman, he could think of nothing more sexy and sensual than a fully rubbberised body complete with an eyeless hood.

After many messages, we decided we would like to meet. We felt we had a lot in common, and I wondered if we would fall in love. Matthew suggested that I go to his house in Wanstead for supper after work on a Friday, and we would see what happened. Since I usually go to work on my motorbike, I suggested that I bike over to him. I have a custom bike and wear full black leathers with a black helmet with a smoked visor.

It was then we hatched the plan which would come to dominate our lives. Matthew suggested I wear my full rubber catsuit under my bike leathers – to which I agreed immediately! He then said, “Tim, when you get to my place you can park your bike in the street, and then come into the house without removing your helmet. Keep the visor down. I will leave the front door open a few minutes before seven o’clock and retire upstairs. You time your arrival carefully, and come into the house. Go into the first room on your left, and close the door. Take off your leathers, and put on your hood without the eyeholes. Once you are ready, sit and wait for me. I will knock on the door to check you are blindfolded and totally covered in rubber before I walk in.”

And so it was. On Friday, I rushed home and struggled into my tightest black rubber catsuit, stuffed my best eyeless hood into my rucksack, together with the extra blindfold I used to ensure total blindness, and then climbed into my leathers. I arrived slightly early, so drove around the area for a few minutes, wondering if Matthew was watching for me from his house. He would have known it was me – after all how many custom bikes with a rider in full black leather ride up and down your street on a Friday evening? Almost on the dot of seven, I parked the bike and walked to the front door, hoping I was at the right house. A slight push and the door opened. The hallway was deserted, as I expected.

The room on my left was a rather formal Victorian parlour, furnished with antiques. The thick curtains were closed, and the room was dimly lit from a couple of table lamps. In such camp elegance, I felt rather clumsy and out of place in bike leathers, so I removed my helmet with its smoky, reflective visor and climbed out of my leathers as quickly as I could.

I sat for a moment with my rucksack in my hands. My heart beat faster than usual. I had reached a strange point of no return. I pulled out my hood, pulled it quickly over my head and tucked it carefully and neatly into the neck of my catsuit. I groped for my extra blindfold and pulled it tightly over the hood, squeezing against my eyes, not only making me completely blind, but also with a black, black blindness so that I could not tell if it was day or night. I sat and waited.

After a few moments, there was a knock at the door, and Matthew’s voice. “Tim, are you OK?”

“Yes,” I called.

“Are you blinded?” came his voice again.

“Yes,” I called, “completely in the dark!”

I heard the door opening, and footsteps in the room.

“Well you’re certainly tall and dark,” came Matthew’s voice, “and probably handsome; but I can only see a beautiful rubber man in front of me.”

“And I can see nothing at all,” I replied.

Matthew’s hands came onto my shoulders and I sensed he was about my height. He pulled me towards him and kissed me on the lips. The whole performance of arriving at his house and getting blindfolded in full rubber had me very aroused, and his passionate kiss fuelled a great lust and a real stirring in my loins. Matthew’s hand brushed against my hard-on, and I am sure he was smiling. “Save that for later,” he said. “First you’d better feel what you’ve got in front of you.”

With his hands around my waist, I felt my new friend. A rubber shirt, with epaulets, and a wide rubber belt supporting generously cut rubber breeches. “Keep going,” he said. Momentarily brushing against a hard-on which matched mine, I found tall rubber boots. “Very sexy,” I whispered. As I knelt to feel his boots, his hands rubbed all over my rubber head. “Yes,” he replied, “very.”

“Let me show you round,” said Matthew, and taking my hand, led me out of the room. “You will have seen the stairs when you came in,” he said. “On the other side at the front is a rather formal dining room which I hardly ever use. Then,” and he led me forward, “is the kitchen on the right, and my office on the left. I thought we would have some supper in the kitchen.”

Leading me forward, he took me into his kitchen. I could not tell how big it was, as he took me directly to a table and helped me grope for a chair and sit on it.

“Look,” I said, “I’ve played lots with my blindfolds at home, and even a few times in clubs like Backstreet when I’ve not been alone, but I’ve never done this before. I’m not at all sure if I can manage to have supper when I can’t see a thing.”

“I understand, Tim,” he said, “but I’m here to help. I’m very turned on by your helplessness, as well as all this rubber, and right now I can think of nothing sexier than having you here in my kitchen, needing help with everything.”

And this lovely man, who would very soon become my lover, sat close and helped me learn to feed myself. He handed me a glass of wine, but at first I refused, saying that I had to ride home on my motorbike. “I have a feeling you’re not going home this evening,” he said.

“I was hoping you might say that,” I replied, and sipped the wine.

After supper, Matthew suggested we watch some television for a little while. “After all,” he said, “if we are going to do this regularly, we’d better start doing regular things from the beginning.”

He took me upstairs to a room with a television. He explained that with such a big house all to himself, he had made one of the bedrooms into a rather cosy television room, ideal for watching porno-films as well as regular TV.  He settled me onto a sofa, and sat close to me as the familiar theme tune for Star Trek filled the room. I settled my blind head upon his shoulder, and he proceeded to describe each scene, as I listened to the dialogue. My hard-on wouldn’t go away, and as I moved my hand gently onto his lap, I discovered that neither would his. “I never thought of Star Trek as sexy,” I said.

He chuckled. “I think you’d have a hard-on even if it was Teletubbies, you know!”

“So would you,” I replied.

In fact we lost the plot of the TV programme as we started to get sexier with one another, and it was clear we needed to find some relief together. He led me to his bedroom, and onto his bed. Quickly we opened one another’s flies, and pulled out those hard cocks. “Lie close to me,” he said, pulling me towards him. “I’d love you to suck me.” So I did. And that was the beginning of a strange night of sucking and rubbing and wanking. He didn’t fuck me that first night together, and I didn’t try to fuck him. In fact I think we were so turned on by the scene we had created, that we somehow didn’t need to fuck.

Eventually, we fell asleep; but I awoke desperately needing to piss. “Matthew,” I whispered, “are you awake?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I need to piss. I don’t know where to go.”

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll hold it for you and direct the flow.”

We didn’t walk far – perhaps it was an en suite bathroom, I couldn’t tell, and after a lengthy hesitation caused by having someone else holding my cock when I needed to piss, I managed. Matthew shook the drips, wiped my cock with a tissue, and zipped it back inside my rubber.

“Now let’s get some sleep,” he said.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Now you are blind, there are many things you’ll never know,” came the reply. “Now sleep, my lovely rubber man.”

When I woke, I felt in the bed for Matthew, but he wasn’t there.

“I’ve been watching you for half an hour,” came his voice. “I cannot believe the sight of such a sexy rubberman in my bed. The sun is shining, although you can’t see it, and it’s Saturday morning. I’m sitting near you. If I keep talking, see if you can find me.”

I felt the edge of the bed and stood up. “Keep coming,” he said, I will guide you.” And I found him, and sank to the floor and put my rubber head in his lap. His fingers rubbed my head and then wandered down to my rubber-covered nipples.

“I think I am in heaven,” I said.

“No, this is Wanstead,” he replied, “but right now, in this bedroom, it’s pretty close to heaven.”

I nuzzled against him.

“Now listen, “ he said. “Let’s be level-headed for a moment. You have a choice. I can take you downstairs into the front room, and leave you to take off the blindfold and hood, and put on your leathers and ride away on your bike; or you can choose to remain for the weekend. If you choose to stay, I want you to remain in rubber, and remain blindfolded. You’ve told me you’ve spent weekends in full rubber before. I hope you’d like to stay in rubber for the whole of this weekend.”

“But I’ve never remained blindfolded for so long.” I said. “It won’t be easy.”

“Yes, it will,” he said. “Because I’m here, and will guide you. Please say you’ll stay.”

And I did. We agreed I would go back to Hammersmith on Sunday evening. We spent the weekend talking and I started to learn to live as a blind person. I know that Matthew took off his rubber kit, and let me feel him naked, and later clothed. I never removed my rubbers, my hood or my blindfold. I began to be able to feed myself, and with great trepidation, find my way around the house. On Sunday evening, Matthew kissed me farewell, and left me in his front room, closing the door. I took off the blindfold and hood, climbed into my leathers and put on my helmet. I left the house, climbed onto the bike and drove home, my mind full of a whirlwind of thoughts.

I had spent the most passionate weekend of my life with a man I felt I was already falling in love with, and yet I had not seen him, and he had not seen me. What weirdness was I getting into?

As soon as I got home, I picked up the phone to thank Matthew for the amazing weekend. “I should be thanking you,” he said, “It was the best ever experience for me.  Come back again next weekend, beautiful man.”

And so it was that I spent my weekdays living in Hammersmith, and going to work as a sighted person, and my weekends in Wanstead as a blind rubberman. We both knew we were falling strongly in love, and we both lived for those wonderful weekends. Of course, eventually it wasn’t enough, and we planned to go on holiday together.

Matthew booked a week in a remote caravan, where we could spend time out of doors together. The challenge for me would be to remain blind for a full week. I couldn’t wait for the time to come. On the Friday before the trip, I went as usual to Matthew’s house, and followed the now familiar routine of blinding myself. This time, however, I took a rather larger rucksack than usual, and put conventional clothes on top of my rubber suit. It was the first time Matthew had seen me in regular clothes, although I still had the hood, so he still couldn’t see my face.

He led me to his car, and I got in. At first being driven blindfolded was rather un-nerving, but I gradually relaxed. Finding my way around the unfamiliar caravan was odd, but as it was small I soon understood the layout. Within a few days, I had begun to forget that I could see; my life as a blind person really started from that caravan holiday. By that time I was feeding myself quite efficiently, and managing the bathroom without help. Needless to say, Matthew was still doing the lion’s share of everything, but he patiently helped me learn how to get food from the refridgerator, and even make a cup of tea. My permanent rubber gloves started to be a real problem. Often I could not feel at times when I needed to feel, and if I was to succeed in a blind world, I needed some sensitivity in my fingers. So it was that at the caravan, I took off my gloves, and Matthew saw my skin for the first time. I wondered if he would comment on my mixed-race skin colour, but he didn’t.

“Now you must start to learn a lot more,” said Matthew. “You can now feel with your naked fingers, and thus start to really do things.” There was a pause. “Including, learning Braille.”

The trip in the caravan was rather unsettling as neither of us wanted to go back to the weekends-only routine. I had been blindfolded from Friday evening until the following Sunday week, a total of ten days. I had started to become a blind rubberman, and I didn’t want to go back to my sighted life. It had also become a part of our life that we had never seen one another’s faces, and we were almost afraid that as time went by that we’d make a mistake and see one another accidentally. We felt we didn’t want this to happen.

Our thoughts turned to my retirement. I was entitled to leave work at any time. We talked things through and the decision was taken. I would sell Hammersmith and move in with Matthew. I did not think that I could live completely permanently in my rubber catsuit, and Matthew  agreed, so I started wearing conventional clothes, but still with my hood and blindfold. The various comings and goings over the next few months were complex, as we maintained throughout our intention to never reveal our faces to one another.

Finally all the business was complete, not only my flat, but also my motorbike sold, and the day came when I moved into Matthew’s house on a permanent basis, wearing permanently my hood and blindfold, permanently without sight.

A final hurdle remained, and after some months in the house it started to get to be a real challenge for us. Whilst our life together in the house was wonderful, with many times making love in full rubber, I could never leave. I couldn’t go out into the world with my rubber hood, and this curtailed so much of what we wanted to do. I couldn’t go with Matthew to the supermarket, or take part in any part of everyday life. And we couldn’t go on any kind of holiday except to the remote caravan. I couldn’t go through immigration with my face obscured, passport officers wouldn’t wear that!

Finally, one day, as we were sitting snuggled together as we often sat, Matthew said, “Listen my darling man, my very special lover. There is a solution.  If you were genuinely blind, you wouldn’t have to wear the hood or the blindfold.”

“Yes…” I whispered, both dreading and excited by what he might say.

“I would see your face, but I already know pretty much what you look like as I’ve been looking at the shape of your tight hood all these years. I know your skin colour: I’ve been able to see your body, and know this beautiful coffee colour, since you first took off your catsuit. So me seeing you would not be such a big deal. But you are the one who has always been blind. You’ve never seen anything of me. You don’t even know whether I’m black or white – and I’m not about to tell you.” He laughed gently. “For all you know I might be covered in tattoos! But seriously, we have a choice. No, that’s not true, YOU have a choice. I will love you and live with you for ever, what ever you choose.”

He paused, hesitating to put the final solution into words. “Go on,” I whispered.

“You could remove your hood and blindfold right now and see me, and we could go on living as a conventional couple, playing in rubber when we felt like it.”

“Or?”

“Or you could arrange to be surgically and permanently blinded.”

“Don’t you think I haven’t thought about this many times,” I asked him. “Since I moved in here with you, all those months ago, I have never removed the blindfold. I have never seen you; I have never seen this house which is now my home. I have been fully blind for months. I don’t miss my sight. Me being blind is part of us. It’s how I am now. It is part of how we are and how we are meant to go on.”

Tomorrow I am to have surgery. My eyes will be removed from their sockets, and replaced with black glass eyes – completely black spheres, no white – black to remember the blackness of the rubber which brought me to this moment in my life. Tomorrow, my lovely Matthew will at last see my face, but I will never have seen his, and never will.

 

THE END

 

Metal would like to thank Doug UK for this story, which is posted here with his permission.