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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	This part of my collection offers a very wide variety of stories. o
o  They have been submitted by people from all over the world.  Also from o
o  alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order to this     o
o  section of my collection,  other than offering them to you in  alpha-  o
o  betical directories.                                                   o
o  	I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to be typed o
o  therefore I don’t type things myself." I think it’s a lot more fun to  o
o  browse around and find 'little' surprises,  and topics that you might  o
o  not have even thought of looking for. I hope you enjoy your time among o
o  Kristen’s book shelf directories.                                      o
o   	Lest we forget!!!  This story was produced as adult entertainment o
o  and should not be read by minors.  Thank you, Kristen Becker           o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

                          Adventures in Rubber
                                   by
                                Dr. Hevea
                                 
                               Chapter 1 
                              part 2 of 2

 Mandy stood astride Jason's chest and looked down at his eager young face.
He looked like a kid in a candy store.  She feigned a hurt expression.
"Don't you LIKE the way I'm dressed?"  She ran her hands over the thin shiny
patent leather covering her breasts, turned to face his feet, giving him an
excellent view as she carressed her latex-covered derrier.
"Er, well, I didn't mean..."  
"And besides," she added, bending to look at him between her knees as she
positioned herself above his head, "I'm not wearing any panties."  So saying, 
she knelt astride his chest, pinning his upper arms under her shins, and 
squatting directly over his face.

 Jason had actually dreaded this moment.  Although a virgin, he was by no 
means ignorant, and through his reading and by the coarse jokes and bragging 
told in the swimming team locker room, he had surmised that cunnilingus was a
distasteful and unpleasant experience.  All that changed in the next thirty 
seconds. As she lowered her crotch over his face, she began stroking his erect
cock, occasionally leaning forward to tongue and partially suck on him.  He 
was eager to return the favor.  He sniffed cautiously.  A melange of scent
surprised his nose.  The smell of the latex miniskirt, now hiked up around her 
hips was reminiscent more of certain pipe tobaccos than the smelly innertube
rubber he was more familiar with.  This was mixed with a new smell, musky and 
rich, not unpleasant, but... strange, with a hint of some musky cologne.  
He suspected she had scented herself here as well.  Encouraged, he reached out 
with his tongue, exploring the pink flesh hidden in the hair. She tasted much 
the same as she smelled- he decided that the boys on the swim team must be 
crazy or liars, because he was already beginning to like it.

 As his tongue made it's first tentative entry into her hungry sex, Mandy
moaned, backed up into his mouth, and bent further to take him completely into 
her mouth.  Jason bucked his mouth and tongue against her and into her, having 
only a fleeting instant to think- I'm doing it!  At last, I'm actually doing 
69 with the best girl in school! before the rising heat in his groin became a 
pulsing fire that swept through his mind, leaving only peace and a growing 
love behind it.

"Hey buddy, if you're not gonna drink, how about letting someone else use that
stool, huh?"  Jason awoke with a start from his reverie, realizing his 
daydream had become that lucid, remembering sort of sleep-dream.  He looked up
at the hard hat that had spoken, realizing that the deep voice belonged to a 
huge, muscular woman dressed as a construction worker.  She had one meaty fist
clamped around the wrist of a fierce-looking smaller woman sporting a green 
mohawk, the other around a huge can of Buddweizer.
Jason blinked and said, "Uh, I was just leaving."  
Sometimes, he thought heading for the other end of the bar, discretion is the 
ONLY part of valor.

 As the saddening memories of his lost love returned, Jason hailed the
bartender, who had been replaced by a six-foot tall pink elephant, and 
ordered another shot of the Macallan.  Wistfully, he thought about that first
night of blazing hot sex, of exploration and learning.  He remembered that at 
one point, Mandy had been lying back, knees in the air, while Jason, his
hands lifting her ass, lapped and sucked hungrily at her pussy.  Essentially 
they were waiting for Jason's plumbing to recover before having at it again.  
Mandy had suddenly lowered her legs, tucking her ankles into his armpits, 
and pulled her skirt down around his head.  When he started to back out to
see what was wrong, she urged, "No, keep going," and pulled him to her 
with her ankles.  Jason, his head squeezed between her muscular thighs and the
tightly stretched skirt, his nose assaulted by her strong musk and the 
aromatic scent of the rubber, set to with renewed vigor, and soon found his 
tool hardening again.
It had been an incredible night, and he had learned a few new skills, too.

 From that day forth, he had developed a special affinity for Mandy's style of 
dress: high heels, tight fitting, yet revealing jackets and blouses and skin 
tight dresses. 
His lover had quite a few sexy outfits, including several made from leather,
or shiny, stretchy plastic, and a purple latex sheath dress that looked as if 
it were painted on.  He especially liked the look and feel of the rubber
outfits.  She even had a pair of black bicycle shorts made of latex that she
insisted he try on.  The unique, clingy, slightly restrictive sensation had 
made him instantly hard, and when she rubbed up against him in her purple
rubber dress, he surprised them both my suddenly coming in his pants.

The smooth, stretchy material seemed to be the ultimate in second skin,
emphasizing the shape of the body, smoothing imperfections, and even offering
a kind of isolating protection from the weather.  He looked everywhere for 
items made of it, but to no avail.  To be sure, latex dresses and rubber pants
were shown off on perfect bodies in various fashion magazines from time to 
time, but all he found locally were rubber kitchen gloves.

 Finally, he asked Mandy where she had gotten her rubber items. "Why," she 
giggled, "do you want a dress for yourself?"  
 "No," he lied, "I think I prefer rubber dresses on you.  I thought I'd get 
you something new, but I can't find anything."  
"Oh, my dad bought some of it for me when he was in New York, I don't know 
what store.  Then I found mom looking through a catalog from some British
company, and I just asked her to order some things for me, too."
  Jason had wondered what sort of parents bought teir daughter rubber 
miniskirts, but kept his thoughts to himself. 
 
 For seven months, they were inseperable, despite the accusations from his
mother that Mandy "looked like trash" in her wild, sexy outfits.  When Jason
told his mom who Mandy's parents were, and what neighborhood they lived in, 
that was the end of that.
 
 He did finally get to meet Mandy's parents, and received several clues about
Mandy's maturity and free lifestyle.  Both parents were highly paid
professionals, mom a mathematician for an engineering firm, and dad a nursing
instructor for a local university hospital.  They were smart, they knew their
daughter was too, and they were apparently very open minded about her
sexuality.  Their only iron-clad rules concerned her academic performance,
and her health.  Jason learned that they were the source of Mandy's uncommon
but sensible fixation on what she called, "safe sex".

 Only once did Jason glimpse anything unusual about the senior Rafool's.  
During one weekend visit to Mandy's house to get her help with some 
schoolwork, Jason went to the kitchen to grab them some Coke's.  On the way 
back, he passed the garage door which had been left ajar, and from which some 
rather frantic moaning and grunting was coming.  Upon peeking through the gap,
he was greeted by the sight of a large black mummy suspended by chains from 
the garage roof.  The bag looked like leather, and covered the body within it
from scalp to toes.  It was liberally equipped with straps and buckles that 
had been drawn tight, making the entire form-fitting arrangement quite taut.
Nonetheless, it was quirming enthusiastically, and he noticed a wire dangling
from the bag that trailed off to his right.
  Then he noticed, at the edge of his view, a pair of crossed legs belonging 
to someone seated just out of sight.  The legs had on an extraordinary pair
of knee-high boots with high platform soles, whose spike heels must have been
a foot long!  Above the boots, the legs were dressed in something skin-tight,
red, and very shiny which he suspected was rubber.  Shaking his head in 
amazement, he quietly returned to Mandy's room without telling her what he had
seen.

 Of course, thought Jason, it was to good to last...
Mandy's mother had been hired to a lucrative position with a think tank in 
Washington, DC., and the family moved away within a month.  It happened with
hardly any notice, and Mandy and Jason were crushed.  They spent days saying
goodbye.  For almost a year, they wrote constantly, and once Mandy's parents
payed her airfare back to St. Louis.  They had a few precious days together,
fortunately during summer school break, which they spent seeing movies,
shopping, and enjoying wild and imaginative sex.

Before she left, Mandy told him that if he couldn't come to Washington, she
would be looking for another partner to spend her life with.  Although he knew
it was only fair, having it out in the open drove home the fact that he had
lost her.  It was years before he tried dating again.

 Years later, in an adult book store, he found a magazine dedicated to 
"fetishists".  The pictures of women (and men!) in corsets, rubber, and high
heels were tantalizing and a kind of relief, as he had imagined that his
fascination was unique.  He bought it and went home to look up the word, 
"fetish".  It fits, he sighed to himself.  I suppose I'll never find another 
girl like Mandy.  Inside the magazine, he found page after page of amazing 
photographs.  And the clothes!  Every page showed men and women in the most
delicious rubber costumes imaginable.  There were rubber dresses, rubber
shirts, long rubber gloves and stockings, in every color one could want.
There was even a severe-looking rubber corset that compressed one happily
suffering woman from her neck to her ankles!  Moreover, the people were doing
the strangest things!  As he drooled over the steaming scenes, trying to
figure out the straps, hoses and other paraphernelia, he noticed a tiny
ad in one corner.  It was a company that sold all these wonderful things!

  Fortunately, Jason was working in the computer field, and had a good-
sized income, or he would have gone broke within a year.  He ordered a few
rubber goods from that first company, and subscribed to a magazine they
mentioned. He was still getting over the shock that there were other people
out there who loved rubber as much as he!  In the magazine, there
were advertisements from other companies making everything from anoraks
to zoot suits, out of several different kinds of rubber.
  He had immediately reached for his checkbook. 

 Over the years, he built an impressive collection of rubber goods, from 
tight women's dresses, to men's "blue jeans".  But through it all, despite his
best efforts, he could find no-one to wear any of it with, or to share his
growing interest in bondage.  Oh, he dated, and socialized, but he never found 
anyone to share his secret desires.  Just once, he had dared to mention his 
fetish to a woman he had been dating for some months.  They had made love a
few times, and she had proved quite conservative- almost boring, Jason would
have said.  But she did seem to enjoy dressing sexy, although more for looks
than the feeling of the clothes themselves, so he casually mentioned that he 
would like to see her in a dress he'd bought for her, and when she agreed, 
he brought out a rather plain sheath dress in shiny black latex.  
It fit her well, but she complained that it 'felt weird', and wouldn't wear it
again.  He never dared to bring up the topic again.
  After they stopped seeing each other, he resigned himself to a lonely life 
of masturbation and fantasies.
 
  Attending tonight's Hallowe'en party was a half-hearted attempt to get out 
and see the local nightlife. He'd noticed, over the last few years, a subtle 
trend toward a 'trashy and flashy' look in fashion, and had begun to have 
hopes of finding a lover who shared his tastes.  He had debated for hours what
to wear to the party, balancing the requirements for a costume against his 
desire to "come out" in something kinky.  In the end, he settled on renting a 
Spanish toreador outfit worn with his own black rubber knickers, and a simple 
domino mask.
 It took all his courage to wear the pants, too.
  But as he pulled the stretchy, shiny latex over his legs, he realized it
didn't matter what people thought, tonight was Hallowe'en!   Tonight was the
one night he could wear anything at all without fear of ridicule or outcry. 
He revelled in the tight, smooth feel of the rubber jeans.  To hell with it, 
he thought, I'm going to enjoy myself tonight!

  At the party, which was hosted by a local radio station, he was greeted by a 
delightful array of leather dresses, spandex pants and skirts, and other sexy 
costumes.  But as he danced with various partners in turn, he realized that to 
these nervously laughing people, they were just costumes, and none of them 
would likely wear such things to the office.  There was no lack of spandex,
plenty of cheap imitation leather, and a fair amount of real leather, but not 
one bit of rubber was to be seen.  Eventually, he sat down at the bar to rest
and console himself with a drink. 

 Now, after two stiff scotches, he had become positively soggy with nostalgia.
 So, as he sat sweltering in his sweaty costume, feeling utterly alone in his
perversion, he was overwhelmed to see two women walk in, wearing what appeared
to be mostly rubber costumes.  And what costumes!  The first to enter, a tall 
redhead with an impossibly exaggerated hourglass figure,  was wearing what 
looked like a cross between a form-fitting jacket and a corset, made of black 
patent leather.  She possessed the smallest waist he had ever seen.  Below 
that, a skin-tight glossy hobble-skirt flared around her ample hips, 
compressing her legs together from waist to knee.  Judging from its smooth, 
shiny texture and its fluid movement as she walked, it was made of thick latex 
rubber.  On her legs, she wore knee-length boots with six-inch heels, that 
laced all the way up.

 Her companion, a shorter brunette, was dressed in a classic french maid's
uniform, complete with white doily, except that her uniform was made entirely 
of rubber.  She had on long black latex stockings with lace garters showing
just under the hem of her skirt.  His eyes grew wider.
 On her feet were a pair of cruel looking patent leather ankle boots with 6-
inch spike heels, and heavy ankle straps attached to each other with a sturdy 
little chain.
 They seemed to be giving her trouble, because she faltered a bit as the pair
walked toward him.  Her hands were covered by black latex gloves and she
carried an old-style feather duster. She truly looked the part, right down to
a pert little leather maids cap.  Both were masked with plain black dominoes.

 As he drank in the incredible sight of the two ladies, the red-head caught
him looking and began walking toward the bar, staring him directly in the eye
the whole way.  She hardly paused on the way, the crowd parted around the pair
like the Red Sea.  Perhaps because of their dress, women and men alike seemed 
in a hurry to get out of their way.  Jason watched her walk, mesmerized, as 
her legs wrestled with the tight hobble skirt for room to breathe, the thick
rubber forcing her to take mincing steps on the precariously high heels.
 
 It suddenly occured to Jason that the couple was probably lesbian, and he was 
about to get the proverbial stuffing kicked out of him by spike-heeled shoes.
He glanced left and right, looking for an avenue of escape.  But by the time 
he made it to his feet, swaying slightly from the booze, she stood before him, 
a stern-looking vision in rubber and leather.  She said nothing at first, 
looking him up and down, a faint smile playing on her lips.

 Trying to look nonchalant, Jason swung around and glanced about the dance 
floor.  It seemed he was not the only one who found them attractive.  
Practically everyone's eyes had been locked on the pair as they threaded their
way across the dance floor.
 They were still receiving hotly critical stares from a few female partners.
Finally, the red-head in the hobble skirt spoke, smiling taughtly. 
 "You must really like our costumes," she said, "I could feel your stare from 
across the room!" 
 Jason looked sheepish. "I'm sorry. It's just that, well, they are a little
little unusual, even for Hallowe'en.  I mean, you seem to be comfortable
wearing this sort of thing, even those heels, which umm,  by the way, don't
look easy to walk in...and you know, everyone else is just renting their
costumes for the evening.  And...and they fit so well, did you make them
yourself?" he gushed.  He paused for a breath. "Sorry.  Sorry, you ladies
really look wonderful, I love what you're wearing...I guess I'm just... well,
it isn't every day a guy has two gorgeous women dressed in rubber in front
of him.  Er, can I buy you ladies a drink?" 

 "Why certainly," she replied, "we'd love to have a drink, wouldn't we,
dear?"  She looked at her companion. The other woman, who Jason guessed  
was a few years younger, said nothing. In fact her expression hadn't changed
since they walked up.  She seemed distracted, staring off across the room.
 Jason turned to the bar and ordered another Macallan, "and whatever the 
ladies are having."
 "And what makes you think I'm a lady?" she said coolly, eyeing him
in the bar mirror. 
 Oho, he thought to himself. "Despite your bizarre outfits, I've got
to assume you're a nice girl from uptown until proven otherwise," he
said wryly.
 "I'm a woman, not a girl.  You only get one warning."
 "I'm sorry!  I didn't mean...sorry. By the way, my name's Jason."
 "Enchente', Jason.  For this evening, I am 'Mistress Mayhem', and this is
my faithful sidekick, 'Maid Marion'.  
 "Maid Marion! Aaugh!" he groaned at her pun as the drinks arrived. 

"So, Maid Marion, what prompted you to do this particular scene?" 
She looked blankly back at him, or rather, just over his shoulder.  She seemed
not to hear.  Odd.  Her makeup is a tad to heavy, he thought.  He noticed now
too, that her free hand was bound to her waist by a slender leather cuff 
attached to her waist-belt.  It looked very much like his dreams had come
true!

"She ahh, doesn't talk much, I'm afraid," said 'Mayhem', "but, really,
the whole thing was my idea.  I liked the idea of a Hallowe'en costume
party, and actually, we dress up in costume quite a bit.  We didn't make the 
outfits, it's too tricky working with rubber, you have to get the seams just 
right.  We have them custom made overseas."

                                                (to be continued...)
