I have this amazing collection of latex (albeit a bit slimmed down now). I mean, it’s really good. And now I’ve lost some weight it looks pretty good too.
But how often do I get to put it on and swan around like a rubber god?
After his wife dies, a rubberist finds himself alone. Will he discover a new love with his wife's best friend?
Not enough. In fact, it’s been a few months since last I played properly. More since Tinky and I did.
And there it is in the box where we packed it when we moved. Awaiting its moment to reappear.
The truth is having a fetish is hard work. It takes time and effort to get things out, play with them, clean up and put everything away. For a couple of hours of fun sometimes the effort seems like too much. It’s not something to be indulged on a whim. Not a rubber fetish, at least.
Maybe I’m worn out by another house move. Or the relentless boredom of quarantines. It could be a phase, triggered by the purge that took place a few months ago.
Whatever the reason, I’m sure my fetish will return and I’ll enjoy being wrapped up in rubber once more.