The Rubbermaid

He took twenty minutes to polish the latex gloves we had rolled over my fingers and up my arms. The higher the shine on my black covered digits the deeper the far away look in his eyes became.

I soon started to test his tickle tolerance. His feet first, stroking across the skin until his toes curled, the tightness of his skin showing the white of scars passed. I moved up his legs to the join but careful not to touch the rock hard evidence he was enjoying this. I skipped over to his chest, fingers splayed, smoothing the bare shaved chest …before roughly grabbing his right hand in my latex clad left and pushing his arm high above his head, stretching his side, exposing it to slow torture.

When my fingers drifted to his ears, his flushed cheeks, his nose and mouth, his tongue would dart out to touch the tasty morsel so close, before pulling in and sucking hard.

By the end I have a completely naked man lying on my sofa, while I had more on that I had started the evening wearing. The loving removal of the black latex covering my hands put me back to the beginning.