By rts
I only began wearing rubber a couple of years ago, having no one to partner with I never had the “incentive” to remain in my catsuit for more than 12 hours, and that was an act of self control. Usually I find myself too horney after just a few hours to resist pounding off and then needing to get out of the rubber immediately after as I begin to feel more uncomfortable in the restrictiveness and sweat.
Well thanks to the internet I met a bud who offered me the opportunity to experience some extended rubber wearing time. As he lives some distance from me it took a few weeks until we could arrange to meet when I had plenty of free time.
He arrived at my place in his truck with a duffel bag full of gear which he promptly opened ordering me to strip. I complied and he proceeded to help me into this heavy industrial black rubber suit with attached boots, thick gloves and hood. My feet filled the boots comfortably and he help me pull the heavy rubber up my legs. This suit had a zipper that ran down the back of the hood all the way through the crotch. The suit was a snug fit and I had to struggle a bit getting my arms through the sleeves and my hands into the thick industrial gloves, next I had to work my head into the hood which fitted the contours of my face, the eye openings covered with plastic, two soft rubber tubes fit up into my nostrils, the mouth opening a thicker rubber which covered over my lips and front teeth. He then pulled the zipper closed down my back tightening the hood and suit to my body.
The light comes on, the cell door swings open, another day of hell begins after another miserable night in sweaty leathers with butt plug torment. A single skinhead steps in and says, “Fag prisoner #5, get your butt over the squat toilet and present your ass.” Jake crawls on hands and knees, chains rattling, over the dirt floor and waits by the pit. The skinhead unlocks and removes jakes’s muzzle and the crotch strap from the harness, unzips his butt access and proceeds with the enema.
My harness is restrictive, stiff and heavy. The tight crotch cradles my butt and affects my walking. The other prisoners all have shaved heads and look to be around my age and physical build. There are three skinheads walking with us, and each has one of those control-box shockers that seems to control two prisoners. A fourth skin (the one from the gas station) is definitely in charge of the others. All four of them are booted in 20-hole Rangers, dirty Levi’s bleaches held up and pulled tight on their butts by braces and showing significant bulges, mostly stained with piss.