Scrapbook of Exchange Student in Germany 6

December 1997.
Scrapbook

The following Thursday it snowed. I called up Alexandra (see Scrapbook – Part 4) and cancelled for that evening. She was overwhelmed by my thoughtfulness, understood, and promised me with an invitation to a play after New Year’s. I was relieved.

By now I had some money to buy presents, three of them, for Brigitte, Krista, and Esther. I also sent something light by air parcel to my family, and Christmas cards to relatives and friends. These things take time, but in the process of shopping, I felt a new bond, not only to these wonderful people who loved me, but to their country, their lifestyle that is so work oriented that they only have little time to enjoy. But when they do, they go at it with the same push as with everything else. 

Life until December 23 was a whirlwind of studies, parties and work at Mr. Schulz’ shop. No time for a Diary, or a day by day Scrapbook.
I sold garments for thousands of  DM, and realized that what I truly earned was nothing compared to what the store was making. However, Mr. Schulz was very good to me, and I did not want a money problem between us. If he felt like raising me, it was his decision. He had helped a lot with the Fashion Club of  Krista, had given me the suit, the boots, even the one piece cat suit I worked in when measuring clients, and I’m sure it was not going to be the end.

In fact, on the last Monday before Christmas,  - I still had one more lesson with Brunhilde on Tuesday – he gave me a flat box. He was smiling from ear to ear. Surprised, I opened it, and there was the dress I had designed for Brunhilde. I carefully lifted it up. It was a dream of latex sensuality. I knew she would go completely crazy. I also knew something was awakening in her, because she had asked me more questions about my latex protective suit, and she admitted loving it to hug me with it on. So, whether it rained or not, I always came in it. 
I was confused, and I did not know how to bring about the money question. I gestured to pull out my wallet. But Mr. Schulz held my arm and refused anything.
“You have earned it many times over, Ken. It’s yours to give.”
I was overwhelmed. “Please, convey my thanks to Mrs. Binder for the extra work.”
“I will”, he replied and disappeared in the men’s department while I went to change from the cat suit to my regular clothes and the latex rain gear. While I was doing this, Antje wrapped the box with paper and ribbons, sealed it into a couple of plastic bags and had it ready for me when I left.  I also took with me the cat suit, just in case I had an opportunity. Anyway, I would bring it back on Thursday.

Tuesday

The day went by too slow. We had school only in the AM, and nobody was doing anything. I was eager to go to my German lesson at 6 PM. Brunhilde had decided to make a little celebration, and she wanted me to taste a special bottle of  Moselle wine she had in her cellar for special occasions. 
I dressed in my best, with a tie, (took me three tries to knot it), put in my backpack the cat suit, my book of literature, and the present.  That evening, I was not going on my moped because I did not want any trouble with a police breath control. Twenty minutes walk from home brought me to her door. Thanks to all the zippers of that special rain suit, I did not sweat at all. She was waiting for me, all ravishing and fragrant. She embraced me immediately and for a long time; a little too long. Something was going on. Her hair was bouncy and shiny, more curly than usual. She was a vision; I told her so. She seemed delighted. 
We went to her office where around a cup of tea, we spoke German, studied more poems and literature. She was so interesting that I could have listened to her the whole evening. Then she invited me to the dining room where she had prepared a dinner. The table was perfectly set, intimately arranged by a crackling fire place with high candlesticks. It came out of a magazine. She invited me to wash my hands and refresh. I used the opportunity to bring the bag with her present in it, but I left it in the office for the moment. She had noticed its fullness, wondered about it, but I had not answered anything.
She continued in her discussion on matters of philosophy, history, literature, and music. Occasionally, she would go to the hi-fi and play a new recording of the composer she was talking about. She was very educated and read a lot.
The seafood was outstanding, and the white wine fitted perfectly.

After dinner, she decided to serve the desert and liquors by the fire place on a small sofa, just for two people: very “gemuetlich”. I picked that moment to give her my Christmas present. She was so surprised, almost shocked that I would have something for her. 
“I have something for you, tonight”, I said.
“Why did you think you had to?” she replied.
“I don’t have to…. I want to…  for you !” I emphasized with a smile.
“But… I am stunned, you are my student, I should have something for you.”
“Well, you gave me a splendid dinner I shall never forget, and you are giving me so much appreciation for your culture and your people.” I tried to speak as German like as I could.”

During the past weeks, I had also memorized the first sonnet I had read for her during the first lesson, a month before, and I had planned to recite it to her with my present. I had looked up all the words, translated it to understand its full meaning. It was the song of a woman looking for love everywhere, and finding out that it had passed her by. Now I could say it flawless, faster, and with intonation since its message was clear to my mind. I knew now how sensitive Europeans are to their language, and for Brunhilde, I felt that this would mean more than anything I could give her. 

“Before I give you this present, I have something to tell you.” She was all eyes and all ears. When I had finished reciting the poem, her composure was a mix of emotions I could not comprehend. I was afraid of having spoiled that evening. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. Suddenly I felt the urge of embracing her until she would find her inner calm again, a true peace instead of the shell of self-control. Who cares about the dress, that was a present far bigger for her. I did just that, and for a long time she let herself be cherished, until the little girl in her would admit to herself that she is loved and does not have to run after an illusionary love ghost. After that long embrace, we decided for another cup of coffee, and I gave her my present.
“You understand too much about me, already… but it feels so good…” She was looking in the distance. I waited until her mind was back to the present.
“Well, here it is; happy holidays !”

She made a big deal about it, took an infinite amount of time to unwrap it while telling me a thousand stories. As time went on, I felt more and more scared by her inner anticipation. What if that would be a total flop, counter productive, a total turn off? I was really afraid when she opened the box. 
“What have you been thinking about, Ken?”
She obviously recognized some similarity to one of the dresses she had put on for me a couple of weeks before, but my design was different. She started to lift it from the box when she realized that the bodice and the skirt under the lace was made of latex. She blushed to the root of her hair; no amount of make up could have hidden this. Her lips were trembling, her hands too. She let it fall into the box, looked up to the ceiling, completely overwhelmed.
“Ken, did you do this for me?”
“Of course, Brunhilde, you are such an inspiration…”
She breathed, as if she could not believe it. She seemed to search for her words.
“I come from a world… where everything is calculated, where… generosity is advertising, where kindness is… interested. But you are here with your heart, Ken… It is… so precious… that I want to cry.”
I took her hand and caressed it. She turned halfway toward me and put her head on my shoulder without saying a word. I just waited there for some time, holding her hand. She was in a dream. Then, she came to,
“Do you want me to wear it now?” she murmured.
“Yes, I would, …with no underwear.” I dared. 
She laughed. “Naughty, naughty… well I have not much of it, right now!” She looked at me with saucy eyes.

She left for a moment to change in the office. I filled the two glasses with liquor, took both of them, and stood waiting for her to return. When she appeared, she obviously was in some sort of sensual shock.
“I feel totally naked, naked as a worm; and yet I am splendidly dressed. How do you know that?“  She took the glass of liquor. I put my left hand on her hip,
“Happy holidays, Brunhilde…”.  She knew that something new in her life had started, and before drinking we had a long kiss; she put her glass on the table, took mine off my hand, and went kissing once more. She was a kisser, and a good one. We hugged and caressed for a long time. I know that the latex had a tremendous effect on her because her pelvis was already contracting some, and she was pushing into me as if looking for my penis to enter her.

I took her glass of liquor and helped her drink some. It helped a little, but she was in the throws of an orgasm that was mounting rapidly. It finally burst open, and I dragged her to the sofa, sat down and laid her on top of me. She was caught in the tornado of her sensuality, enhanced by the feel of latex. I placed my hand on her pelvis and caressed her lightly first, and then deeper and regularly. Her mouth opened, her breathing quickened, her eyes closed, and she prepared herself for the oncoming wave. “Why do you do this to me, Ken…?”
“Because you need to let go…” I murmured in her ear, “let go… let go… let go…” each time I was slowly pressing on her low abdomen with gentleness.
I wanted three orgasms out of her. The second one came, and I gave her time to recover. She thought it was over, but when she saw that I was waiting for the next one, she began to sob. I massaged her breasts, and a few minutes later the third wave came on her much stronger than the one before. When she calmed down she made no move. She wanted another one. It came like a sunami. She lost all controls. It was so good to see her that way, unashamed, herself, unafraid. When it was over, she regained some control, remained in the sofa and asked me to fetch the desert in the kitchen.

“I am not sure I can walk, you will have to get the desert, Ken. I am sorry. I have never been in such a state. What are you doing to me?,,, Do you realize what I am like ?…”
“Do you want to keep the dress?” I teased her gently. 
“What a question, Ken! I shall treasure it for many more reasons, you know.”
“When you wear it, think of me.”
“I think of you all the time; I don’t need it for that.”
“Then, wear it for me…” I looked deeply into her eyes. She knew what I meant. “Your hands are my hands, Brunhilde.”
It did not register right away, but then, she knew, and she kissed me for a long time once more.
“You are a special person. I cannot believe anyone like you existed… Wearing this dress will make me want you so bad… I only can, if you are here, Ken.” Her expression revealed a feeling of utter helplessness deep within herself.
“Then it is fine. Wear it for me when I come. Give me a few moments, because I have to go to the bathroom also.”

I left her, took the cat suit I had shined at home, changed in the bathroom, walked over to the kitchen, took the deserts and brought them in.
When she saw me, she was shell shocked, this time. Her mouth opened, her eyes opened wide, then closed, and opened again. I took her dish and spoon fed her desert. After the first bite, she fell on me, her hands all over my body, squeezing whatever part of me her hands were holding. After a few minutes, it was obvious she wanted to feel my hardened penis, but she did not dare. So, I took her hand and placed it right on top. She screamed, and her fingers were squeezing my member while she was licking me all over. She had truly lost it. She had become raw lust.

I had to laugh inside, because I was leaving Erika on account of her uncontrollable urges, and here, a month later, the same urges were irrupting into the life of Brunhilde. Was the erotic feeling of latex responsible for this? It sure helped.

When she finally recovered, I took a second piece of her chocolate mousse pie, spiced, of course, and fed it to her. She was eager for it. The third piece, I intentionally dropped it on my low stomach. She looked at it, and then it dawned on her that no spot would ensue. She laughed herself silly. So did I.
“Eat it off me” I murmured.
That was what she truly wanted, and she went at it with eagerness while I caressed her hair lightly. Her face became a chocolate mess, and we laughed so hard. She was exhausted.
Silently, our shoulders glued against each other, and our legs making contact also, we finished the desert. I could not bring to my mind that sensuality was a new world to her… a model, one of the most beautiful woman of the region. What background did she have in terms of relationships with men?

When we were finished, I took the empty plates, filled up her liquor glass, and brought a fresh pot of coffee. I filled up her dainty little hand painted cup.
“Cream… sugar?”
“Both!”
I handed to her the cup and saucer… she was in a daze. Coffee would certainly help.

We remained in each other’s arms until almost eleven o’clock, when I remembered I had to walk home. During the evening a layer of fresh snow had covered the street.
“I’ll accompany you part of the way, Ken. Allow me.”
“Is the street safe for you?”
“Oh yes, it is not Los Angeles, here.”
She stood up and placed her hands on my shoulders,
“These lessons of German should become an all night process, don’t you think so?”
I smiled, laughed.
“You are a wonderful lady, Brunhilde; it is something we can think about after the new year. Thank you so much for tonight, for the German lesson, the dinner, and all the care you put in it.”
“You have given me more joy and … of yourself, Ken. I cannot thank you enough, ever.”
We walked to the lobby. I put on my regular pants and shirt over the cat suit, then my rain suit and boots. She put on her leather boots, a long wool coat and scarf, and a bell shaped woolen hat, and gloves.
“Do you have the key to your door?” 
“Thanks for reminding me, Ken, I was about to lock myself out. I don’t know where my head is.”

"Beauty of Merciless Domination - Realless FemDom Art"

We stepped outside, the cold was penetrating, because in Hamburg, it is always humid. We walked briskly, kicking the fresh snow, making our own tracks sometimes. The holiday lights were everywhere. She was enjoying it like a little girl. All of a sudden she made a snow ball and threw it at me, laughing herself to tears. She was just so happy. 
“I have never felt so happy, so relaxed… and so naked. What a present you have given me, Ken. How could I ever forget this?”

I knew that she had already felt some of the appeal of latex before. It was surprising that she did not complain of the cold of the dress when outside, because the wind must have surely cooled off the rubber. I could feel it with the cat suit. After five minutes, we parted ways with a last kiss and best wishes. I watched her walk back to her house, and I could imagine how the house would feel like. All of a sudden, I knew that she would collapse and cry, because the loneliness would come crushing down. I went back to her door, and rang the bell. I saw her head looking out through the kitchen window, and heard her light steps on the floor as she was running to open the door.
“What happened, Ken?” she sounded worried. But her face betrayed freshly wiped tears. She was still wearing the latex dress.
“I am concerned for you, Brunhilde, I just feel you needed a few more kisses.”
It hit her dead center once more; she knew I had understood her. She grabbed my hand and dragged me to her bedroom upstairs. There, she began undressing me. She took off the rain suit, everything. When I was in the cat suit, she rolled off the feather spread, slipped her dress off, and dragged me in after her.
“I need to feel you here, I need to know you here, I need you, Ken, you cannot imagine.” Her voice betrayed a deep love starvation. She rolled half-way on top of me, my thigh was wedged under her belly, and I could feel contractions again. She was repeating on and on, “Ken, I need you so bad… so bad…so bad.”
There was a mountain of pain in the fog of her heart I was hoping to help her with some time in the future. With the feel of latex, I knew I could help her quite a lot. She was not like Esther, but the challenge was just the same.
She took off her bra, then her bikini string… she was riding my thigh; the latex of the cat suit must have felt wonderful on her wet clitoris. She drove herself to a desperate orgasm again.
After twenty minutes or so I told her, “ I have a midnight curfew, can I use your phone?”
I called Brigitte who did not mind that I come back at one AM. That helped a lot.

We hugged like desperate lovers; she was tireless. No intercourse, just tenderness. That’s all we both wanted in this relationship…and German lessons also.
 

The Gutenbach celebrate Christmas Eve with friends, and I was invited. About fifteen people. Food and more food. Wines also; quite a lot. Too much for some. Brigitte was… happy, very much so. She was eyeing me sometimes, but I had my eyes on nobody but Krista who was the youngest in the group and could have felt out of place. So, I was extra attentive to her. She loved it, of course. She had “her” man and exuded confidence.
After desert, I murmured to her, 
“Are you wearing latex clothes?”
“No, but I am coming into your bed tonight !” she answered with decisiveness.

Back home at one AM or so, we decided on breakfast at 10 AM the next day.
I was barely asleep that Krista was pushing at me to sleep alongside with me. I welcomed her, all dressed in rubber, and we both fell asleep in each other’s arms. At eight we woke up, kissed, and she went back to her room. I got up, cleaned up and went to the kitchen to prepare the Christmas breakfast. To do all these household chores, the rule of the Gutenbach home is strict: a comprehensive rubber apron, and rubber gloves, always. If one does not obey, the next thing will be an enema.

In the afternoon, preparations had to be made for the ex and his whatever woman friend yearly visit, the last one. Brigitte was happy about it being the last. For what idea this man had that he would always insist on coming at this time of the year, and with the other nonetheless… nobody knew. It had ruined the season’s joy for as long as anyone could remember. Later that afternoon, around a cup of tea,
“I hope to be with you folks next Christmas. It will be a special one, I am sure.“, I ventured.
“What?” screamed Krista, “you are not going back to Denver?” She could not stay in place and was dancing around the room, “Ken is staying, Ken is staying…”
“I am toying with the idea of staying here a second year, perhaps start the university.”
That comment went real big. Brigitte was taken back also. “I don’t mean I am asking you to keep me here, but my heart is very much in Hamburg. You have been such wonderful friends.” Both women were moved. I picked that moment to give them my presents, and that sealed it.

After calling Esther, I prepared my leave for three days, and walked to the S-Bahn station. Was she ever happy !

Esther’s Life Story

In Esther one finds always a special feeling of joy and enthusiasm. She communicates it by her sincerity and transparency; she is not complicated, mysterious or manipulative. Besides being artistic and unmarried, she has a face that smiles all the time. Her eyes shine, her long hair are always in a mess, but organized somehow in curls and very complex attempts to make it hold together into a large clamp. They are naturally curly, and Esther has to straighten them quite often. As we already mentioned, Esther looks a little like a Barbie doll, yet shorter. She has tremendous energy, and loves people… to a point, that is. Yet, under all of this, there must be something screaming for love, and that was my role for these next three days: to listen to her, as much as she wanted to share.

Although she looks like a star, I wondered why in the world wasn’t she married or with a boyfriend. I had lots of questions about that since the day I got to know her. She never mentioned a break up, or former friendships. I could not figure her out. She might have had girl friends, but to conclude that she was bi, this seemed to be a long shot.

Another puzzling thing was her attachment to me. I meant the whole world to her, the whole world indeed. Yet, she was not jealous, attempting to monopolize me. No, she was generous, and left me totally free. There was a depth of love, the kind that risks it all in the faith that it will turn out after all. That kind of maturity astounded me. How did she ever learn that?

As I pushed the door bell button a dozen time in fast succession, I already could imagine Esther’s emotions; she has such deep feelings that I have to be so careful with her not to crush her, but to remain extremely sensitive. I believe this is one of the reasons she wants me because I must be one of the only males in her life who does not flatter her.

At that moment, as the door lock buzzed for me to enter into the apartment building, I had that clear vision of the first concert we went to, dressed in latex. We were so obvious, she so unbelievably sexy. Why would she choose to attend a concert dressed this way? What was her rationale? Why did she need to do it? What was she hoping for? Would she have gone dressed in rubber alone? A mountain of questions came flooding to my mind. I did not even notice that I was already on her door step, when she opened the door to me all of a sudden… all my questions left me. She was a dream of latex fluidity; her ankle length slim dress in contrasting black and yellow with touches of green was absolutely stunning.  Her breasts seemed poured into it, and her arms looked so shiny and slim. She was just gorgeous.

My face must have told her what she wanted to know, because she turned on her heels – high ones – and avoided my embrace; she was leading slowly and tantalizingly in the direction of the bedroom. Still all dressed up for outside, I zipped myself out of my rain suit and my boots, and followed her. Her bedroom was darkened, all lit up with candles. A paradise of love and intimacy.
“Take off your clothes, all of them”, she said.

I had showered before leaving, and she noticed the fragrance she loved. The bed was as usual; full latex sheets in pink this time, pillows and a number of items and accessorial garments readily available for games, another world, her intimate world. It dawned on me that she was sharing the most precious thing she has, that which she cannot do without, a world she owns and that owns her just the same, if not more. A world of joy and pleasures, but a world that must have a history, and in her case, it must be one where pain exists still. The reason of our friendship cannot be latex only. Why did she latch on to me, a high risk late teen of just eighteen ? It makes no sense, but it must for her, because she behaves like a seventeen year old.

She turned around and gave me the sweetest kiss I had received from her. I opened her dress and slid it off from her shoulders. I noticed that her body was sheathed in transparent latex and was about to reach the zipper too, but she got away from me and with longing eyes slipped into the bed looking at me. Her sensual enjoyment took over, and I could watch her body writhe with pleasure. I was still holding her dress for quite some time, fascinated by her movements, the way she was cuddling in the sheets and feather bedspread (all encased in latex, of course). On one hand I was tempted to jump in bed with her, but on the other hand, she was not doing this for me, she was literally yielding to an appeal of such strength, caught into a vortex of sensuality she could neither resist or master. It had to take its course and  I was not going to interfere until she would invite me in. Sharing with me this moment of amazing privacy blew me away. I knew then that this was only a prelude to her telling me her life story. She was getting the energy, the comfort, the settings, some sort of comfort prior to the pain it would entail.

“Ken,” she said in a very low voice, “we have loved each other for three months, almost, and I know you, but you do not know me outside of the love I have shown you, and we have now three days. In a way this is going to be a paradise for me, but I also know that there will be a part of pain that I do not want and I have delayed. Still, it has to be, because I have to be transparent with you.” She waited before going on. Was she hesitating because of her emotions, or because she had other things planned? This was difficult to say with Esther, because her expression at rest looked always optimistic. I was laying on my left side leaning on my elbow, looking at her. She was still shivering with sensuality. She turned her face to look at me, and we held our gaze for a long time. Slowly I slipped my hand under the cover and barely touched her right breast. She closed her eyes to take in the erotic feeling of the caress to its maximum.

“Just start with your birth, Esther. You are such a lovely woman, there must be something good somewhere.”
“There is plenty of good, you being the best ever, but I come back from a long long way. I don’t know if you will be able to understand me, if you will not be scared after all and leave me.” A couple of tears rolled down her cheeks. I gave her a moment of peace.
“I am a young man with a great heart, Esther, and some people live through tragedies it takes years to put behind, years to accept, but this is life. If there is a part you do not want to tell me, it’s ok. You are free with me.”
“I know, I am free with you, but, am I free with myself ? I cannot tell. I am afraid.” 
I gave her breast a gentle squeeze and with my thumb started to massage her tit that hardened immediately. After a moment I said to her,
“You know that fear is the enemy of truth, and that in less than three days you can be free with yourself.”

These words had a profound effect. She looked at me with such hope, but with such vulnerability. It was as if I was almighty and she had no more resource, nothing, nobody left in this world. There was a scream for help that I had never seen in her expression. So I rolled over on top of her luscious latex clad body. She was warm, inviting, sexy, but as much as I wanted her, she needed to be desired at a far deeper level than sexually. Then it dawned on me that all that latex, all that incredible attractiveness through sensuality was only the skin of something far deeper, a step in a quest for peace, or may be a refuge, a home constant to itself, an extension of her non-belonging anywhere, an island somewhere in the sea of her isolation. Was it latex that held her, that isolated her, or was it only a symbol, a message of something far deeper? Was latex only a symbol, or was it also the welcoming womb? In which case who is the mother kangaroo, would latex be also the kangaroo, a substitute for someone who is no more? Who is no more? Someone she loved? Herself? Is latex linked to a memory, an old feeling, a smell, a trauma? There is so much of it in her environment, she lives in it all the time. Still, it seems to own her quite a lot because most of her erotic needs tend to evolve in latex. I had all of a sudden the picture of the turtle who can live in water and on land also; but it also can live and has to live within her shell. That animal helped me understand Esther. She lives in a society that cannot fulfill her, she also lives in the sea of her memories and needs for love of which she would like to be free. But the shell of her rubber need limits her in a way, but defends her in another. So, my coming into her shell, so to speak, ends here the loneliness on one hand, but makes her feel accepted as a turtle, as she is, no question asked. How did she become that turtle? How did rubber become part of her, under what circumstances?

I caught my body relaxed on top of her as I woke up from the depths of my thoughts. She was looking at me as if waiting for the next word. I felt an immense compassion for her, an overwhelming sense of protection for her. I leaned on my arms pressing my pelvis against hers. She could feel my penis hardening and that comforted her. I was in no hurry, so much had to be said until then. I rolled off from her as gently as I could and too the lower position.
“Esther, roll on top of me, but put your head on my heart.” She did and embraced my shoulders in her arms. She loved that position. I slid off the heavy cover from the top of her since she would get plenty of heat from me. Only a latex sheet was covering us.
“Start  from your birth, Esther !” She breathed deeply, and after my hands lightly caressed her back she began.

“I was born in Tyrol, in 1971. My father was an older man of fifty, and my mother was thirty. I am the second of two children. I had an older sister. We lived in a village, in the mountains. My father was a policeman, and also a fireman. He was very involved in the community, and I loved him a lot. I always admired his hands, his strong arms and shoulders, his clear blue eyes like mine. There was much comfort in his arms, on his lap, in his deep voice, so gentle and kind.  Seven years ago he died with cancer. I was preparing for nursing school and I took care of him till the end. It was very hard. After his death I thought I was going to die from that loss…”  Esther was exhausted; but I knew that was the one greatest loss. Still there was far more than that. I did not want to ask questions but let her come. She was lying on top of me, relaxed, remembering these times, and from time to time a shiver would pass through her and she would hide her face against my chest and kiss me briefly. I knew she had let me inside her shell, and she was scared.

“My mom lives there still. She is the most loving person on earth, happy, forgiving, singing from morning till night. After two years she remarried. It was a good decision, they were happy, and he did his very best to accept my sister and me. For us it was an effort to accept him; we tried and tried, I cried myself to sleep many times to accept that man and find some kind of happiness like my mom did, but I could not. The voices of my true father were too strong; you know what I mean. That is when I made the decision to go to Hamburg for my studies, and I have been here ever since.” 

I was trying to imagine her, to enter the anxieties of that second born girl, so sad, so distraught, but there must have been so much more yet. She laid there motionless. Lifting my head I caught a glimpse of her wet cheeks and grabbed a tissue to wipe them dry. She just let me do. 
“Now comes the harder part, Ken, and I am not sure that I can tell it to you.” She just waited, gathering strength. She lifted her head to look at me, and with troubled eyes asked, “Do you love me ?” 

Then she brought a slip, a dream of softness that was tight fitted, almost. Then came a knee high straight skirt and a top with long sleeves and a high collar. It looked fabulous. A pair of pumps, and I was a… woman but for my hair.
“When we go out, you will wear a corset because you still look too much like a man. She thought of me as a doll, sometimes, to play with as she liked. I did not mind because it meant so much to her.  After a while the tightness of the skirt aroused me; there was just something so sexy in wearing it that I could not prevent it. She noticed it, and that turned her on also. 
“That skirt is going to be yours when you come here, Ken; I can’t begin to imagine what’s happening under there.” While she was talking she had smeared on her fingers some jell, and she quickly slipped her hand under the hem and lubricated my hard on and all the material pressing on it. The sensation changed immediately; I did not dare move or else I would have ejaculated instantly. She enjoyed watching me on the brink of it, fighting it off with my will. She smiled, her finger toying with her tongue. It was so electric I felt I was going to keel over. Finally, in a moment of calm, my erection came down some, and I could reintegrate reality. I felt cheated in a way, but an overcomer, because I had self-control once more. “It’s for you”, I said. She wrapped herself around my neck giggling and kissing me all over.

Coffee led to more tease, and tease to more foolishness, until we decided to go back to bed. She undressed me once more with such tender love that I could already see the effect of a burgeoning freedom with her. The next part of her story would come. I was confident. This time I helped her take off her transparent latex body suit, and gave her a body massage over a large towel with a cream of hers that sensitizes the skin all over. She felt real good and could have been ready for games after I showered her with talcum like a large piece of dough.

Slipping back under the latex covers, we went for each other’s warmth right away and got very aroused. Then I took a face mask she kept somewhere under the pillows, and put it on her. This one blinded her totally. She only had nose and mouth opening. I gave her some time to adjust to it, and went on with unexpected caresses on her ultra sensitive breasts; I brought her to the brink of orgasm several times, until crazy with lust she grabbed my erection and swallowed it in her pussy, sucking it in, as it were, with the lustiest motions. I did all I could to prolong her pleasure and we both came just about together. She was screaming still when it was all over for me; I realized that the feel of latex all around her kept her spasms alive and that she could not come down. I took full advantage of that situation, and kept her coming on and on. Each time I felt a little relaxation, I would bring her back up by sucking her tits and massage her very swollen and unusually large clitoris. She was out of words, out of anything to express herself. It was just raw core sex; her mind was entirely gone; she was swimming in sensations and feelings that tossed her like an empty bottle down a  river. It was the second time only that Esther had come to that degree of orgasmic delight and I saw more and more how she loved it and wanted it from the bottom of her being, no restraints of any kind. The mask hid her features which I loved, but be it as it may, her pleasure was more important to me.

After all that, she rolled into my arms, still shivering and her womb seized by temporary contractions. She slept for a few moments, an agitated sleep and woke up like a zombie. “How do you feel?” I murmured. She waited a moment before answering, “Like a huge hungry, desperate vagina… I need you Ken I need to feel stuffed, loved, handled, caressed, treasured. I am sorry, but I finally begin to feel who I really am, and this is what I am, what the core of my personality dies for. I beg you, Ken, I beg you, don’t leave me, don’t, or I would die.”

She was pathetic in a sense, but I knew in my heart that she was finally reaching the spot where she could unload, and let go of that sorrow. She needed the strength of that intimacy before she could bring herself to open up. At that moment I just remembered where she had a body bag. “Esther, I think you need to be in the body bag, because you want that secure feeling.” She almost went crazy, “Please, Ken, but do not leave me in it. I need the feel of you, please, please, please.” I found it without any problem, filled it with talcum and slipped her in. It was a tight one, and the zipper could just close with a little stretch by her breasts hence her tits would project forward. That was just fine with me. I was intent to tease her back to orgasm through the stimulation of external vibrators, and I started on that venture that soon proved to be more successful than I had thought. Some form of bondage was a definite with Esther, she loved it, and responded with all her energies. I started with tying a belt that had a front vibrator with variable speed. That item also had an intermittent start and stop feature that did drive her insane with lust.

Completely exhausted, I finally laid down next to her and wrapped my arms around her bagged form. She was moaning like a wounded animal so intense was her desire towards an orgasm that could never totally mature. Finally I took a vaginal massager stick, and I pressed it through the material on her clit which I could feel even with my finger. That made the difference, and she finally exploded in tremendous contractions  that went on for ever. I wanted to deplete all energy in order to rebuild her attitude much more towards sex yet. She was a dream. In fact I have to admit that it was an experiment for me because I had never done it before. So far so good.

After zipping the bag open, taking the mask off, and I rolled her sweaty body on the bath towel, and washed her with a hot washcloth. The contrast in feeling drove her right back toward another orgasmic threshold. This time I took the massager stick, and pushed it slowly  and secured it in her vagina. It had a little attachment that slid right between the lips of her labia and teased her clitoris. She was familiar with it, and I knew that in time she would want it to be turned on. But it was not yet time. After that, I powdered her entire body once more, and slipped her deep in the rubber sheets and the bedspread. In a few seconds she was moaning again. That sensitizing skin cream was doing marvels. I put the bag in the bathroom to dry, and went back to her with some orange juice because she needed liquids. She drank avidly.

“Come into bed with me, Ken, I need you, please.” Her plight was pathetic, and I did right away. “I love you, Ken, I love you more that you could possibly know… it is scary…” I turned on my side and embraced her tenderly and tighter after some time. She kept on muttering, “Ken, I need you, I want you in my rubber world… I love you… I want you… hold me…” She fell asleep after some time, but her sleep was agitated; she would wake up for a few seconds, and go back to the twilight of her feelings, and dive into oblivion. I stayed there, by her, for a long long time, observing her every move. After a couple of hours, I laid my hand on her pelvis; it was still hard, and it responded to the pressure, it tightened very slowly, but surely. After a moment I knew that a very strong orgasm was about to happen, and that she would wake up when it was too far gone. I had no idea how to prepare for this. Well, the thought did not last long, for she woke up with a scream…  “Aaaaaaaagh… what’s happening to me………..? Aaaaaaaaaagh !!!!!!” She was thrashing all over in the rubber bed, and once more I noticed the overwhelming power of latex on her sensuality. I also had forgotten that she still had the dildo in vagina, and that her movements must be have been amplifying the sensitivity in the entire context of that area of her body. 

Once more I decided to lay hold of her until she would calm down some. She went crazy every time I would touch her, but I quickly decided to hold her anyway, because, whether it was I or the latex, the results were fairly much the same. Her head was rolling in all directions, the contractions were becoming painful, and I pressed my hand into her womb and held it there for a while to stop this uncontrollable situation. She calmed down some. “Keep pressing there… don’t let go… or else I will faint…” She could hardly breathe so high her orgasm had carried her. It was not one orgasm but several layers of them. That’s when I decided that when she would calm down for good, I would put a corset on her, just to contain her orgasms and stretch her arousal over longer periods of time. But before then, she needed to eat something, because it was close to eight PM, and we had not touched any food. I knew her kitchen, and I put something together and brought it to the bedroom. She was so grateful for that food, for she was too far gone to even manage thinking about it.

Then I went to her closet, and found the rubber corset I wanted on her. That one left her breasts free. It cinched her waist and her pelvis, and it had a removable crotch piece where attachments, some of them on electrical controls, could be inserted. I decided to leave this part for later, and to start with the corset only.