A latex girl thing

The time was lost to Rusty, so when he awoke suddenly in a bed, in a dark room with a window to the outside filled with moon light he took those few seconds to remember things. He remembered untying Slave. He recalled removing the vibrator and panties. He recollected carrying her to a room he wasn’t aware of – this room – which had the bed and a bathroom for a shower: he didn’t take one for he fell right into bed without another thought.

Rusty was not sure what woke him; he was still pretty tired. He passed it off as one of those things that happened after an epic fucking night like the one he had. He heard a mew, looked down, and found Slave curled up next to him. She – STILL! – was wearing her black latex, but he could feel her boots were off; she could feel her toes move up and down his calf; he could feel they were covered in latex too. At least the bed was normal: it was floral pink and cotton everything.

Rusty stroked that fake hair of Slave’s and just shook his head at all her latex. He heard stories, and they had to be crazy, about life style fetishes who live with, or rather in, their fetish twenty-four hours a day all the time, including holidays. Those stories were pretty unbelievable to him, although they were sexy and hot. He shook his head again, thinking that there had to be a few Internet bondage stars out there that could back up their stories; this unknown woman in disguise was just one of them. Just thinking that, too, caused Rusty’s junk to stir; his dick had some life left; it felt ready to go.