Wetsuit; Wet Dream – Part 2

 

By sj_one.

The Story

I was woken sometime during the early hours by a low moaning coming from next to me. Fearing the worst, I hastily turned on the light and grabbed for the keys to the hood. Paul was shaking; convulsing almost. I got the padlock undone and tore at the laces. As gently, but hurriedly, as possible I removed the hood. He was drenched in sweat and red-faced. I wasn’t sure if he’d been crying or the wetness in his eyes was just them smarting at the sudden brightness.

“Are you all right Paul?” I asked greatly concerned.

“Yes,” he squeaked. “I just had this really weird dream, that’s all.”

“What about?”

“I was sealed inside this…rigid rubber suit, or casket. There were no openings as far as I could tell. It was horribly claustrophobic and difficult to breathe in there.” So far, it didn’t sound too dissimilar to reality.

“Well, that’s pretty close to your present circumstances,” I pointed out.

“There’s more…”

“Go on…” I waited to hear the rest.

“There was something rubbery attached to my dick, squeezing and sucking on it; pumping me — like a milking machine! It just kept going until…”

“I’m afraid it wasn’t me,” I interjected, light-heartedly.

With a sudden realization that what had happened next he hadn’t only dreamed, he exclaimed, “Oh my god! I’ve had a wet dream!” I reached down and felt his crotch, where it emerged from the bottom of the straitjacket. Beneath the wetsuit his cock had deflated and the slight squelching sound as I massaged it revealed that it was true. I suppose the constant stimulation of his bondage and not having come since last weekend (at my insistence) had combined and filtered through to his subconscious and influenced his dreams with such dramatic results.

“Do you want me to let you out of that lot?”

“No. I didn’t mean to wake you. Deal with me in the morning.”

“Sure?”

“Definitely,” he asserted with more confidence.

“I’m not going to put the hood back on you tonight.” I dropped it over the side of the bed to be taken care of in the morning.

“Okay.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes,” he said, back to his usual self, “It was only a dream — and not entirely unpleasant either, at the end.” I put the light out and turned over on my side to face him. I stroked his cheek and put my arm around him. Eventually, we both got off to sleep again.

We slept in quite late the following morning. It being Saturday, there was no particular reason to rise early. When, finally, we did get up I unlocked the padlocks and let Paul out of the straitjacket. He was both relieved to be able to move his stiff arms about and get his circulation going again and disappointed to be free once more. I wouldn’t let him take the wetsuit off though. Instead, after I had got dressed, I made him come with me into the bathroom and stand in the bath. Overnight he had been well “stewed” in his own juices. I was going to kill two birds with one stone: clean him up and rinse out the wetsuit. I twisted the head of the shower, unthreading it until it came off the end, then I thrust the corrugated plastic hose down the collar, inside the suit, and turned on the water. Since I couldn’t judge the temperature like that, I had to start it off cold and adjust it slowly. Paul shrieked at the sudden glacial blast and doubled up in shock.

“And I thought it was us soft Southerners who were meant to be pansies,” I remarked with some amusement. He didn’t reply, but glared at me for a moment before bursting out laughing. I took pity on him and turned up the “hot” a little. The water started to leak out of the wetsuit at the ankles and drain away down the plughole. He sat down and let the suit fill up until it water was dribbling out of the sleeves too.

“Not too hot?” He shook his head and I turned it up a bit more. I felt the temperature of the escaping liquid; moderate, I thought and left the setting at that.

“So, how are you feeling this morning?” I asked.

“Quite refreshed,” he responded sarcastically, no doubt thinking back to the start of the Chinese Water Torture. “I do like the wetsuit though; it feels really erotic. You should try it.”

“Maybe I will.”

“It’s just amazing when you add the straitjacket to it. By the way, when you wore it before — the wetsuit, I mean — for water sports, did you wear anything underneath it?”

“A pair of Speedos, actually.”

“Oh. It’s much better nude.”

“And shaved,” I added.

“Yeah,” he agreed with feeling. Satisfied both the wetsuit and my lover were now thoroughly cleansed, I turned off the shower and got him to stand up. I peeled back the Velcro and unzipped the rear of the suit, helping him to slither out of it. The sleeves turned inside out as he withdrew his arms. He let them flop forward as he struggled to climb out of the bottom half with my assistance. The legs were dragged inside out as well. I went to get a plastic coat hanger to support the garment and hung it over the bath to drip dry.

“Don’t forget to remind me to turn it the right way out when it’s dry.” I handed him a towel to get dry himself. While he rubbed himself down with it I reinstated the showerhead and restored it to its rightful position.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked.

“We’re going to a club tonight, but the rest of the day is really up to you. What do you fancy?”

“You mean, apart from you?” He grinned that endearing and mischievous grin of his, a dimple forming on his cheek.

“Down, boy! You can have me anytime. Seriously though, what do you want to do today?”

“How about a kinky shopping expedition? I’d like to go find a wetsuit of my own.”

“All right, sexy shopping it is. You’d better get dressed first, though,” I chuckled. He passed the damp towel back to me and I put it back on the rail. While he went to put some clothes on I went down to make us some breakfast, well, elevenses anyway.

To be continued… In part 3.

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