Colin’s Chronicle

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Clearly, Great-Uncle Colin had loved to write which was not so surprising when one considered that, when diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor, he was the managing editor of a national newspaper on Fleet Street. The end, when it came, was quick and painless and later his will revealed that he had left all his personal papers to me.

There were drafts of three books in various stages of completion, some unpublished short stories and it was clear that he was at heart always a writer and a journalist and it probably indicated that he had not felt fulfilled as a business executive. At the bottom of the box were also diaries that told of his incredible erotic relationship with his long-term partner, Jan.

As I read these, I was not sure which were recollections of real events and which were pure fantasy. In the end, I decided it didn’t matter as they were all so well written that they must be published to a larger audience. I realized that some of the content might be shocking to family members but there were none as close as Jan and my great-uncle had never produced children.

So here is the first episode and others will follow as soon as I can get them transposed from hardcopy to this medium. Sometimes, it has not been easy to define the chronology so, please try to understand if, occasionally, the timelines seem to be “off-kilter.”

Colin’s Chronicle — An Adventure in Eroticism

On the day of my graduation from University, Aunt Blanche had wanted me to wear a new pair of black rubber briefs beneath my suit and cap and gown. However, it was summertime, I knew how long the ceremony would be, and I had protested.

Jan had offered a compromise, which was that I would swap the briefs for pair of black rubber boxer shorts while she in the audience, matched me with a pair of white latex French knickers under her summer frock.

In fact, these choices were very much in line with the preferences of both Jan and I. We had both worn tight, form-fitting latex and rubber garments from time to time but we both seemed to opt for looser ones like our mackintoshes and robes or kaftans. These minimized perspiration while allowing the close caress of our beloved material, which generated the swishing and rustling we adored especially when worn over very little else.

“And so, that was that,” Jan pronounced.

Nevertheless, Aunt Blanche had wanted to check my promised underwear but Jan now claimed that area for her own. Over the past 3 years, Jan had become much more assertive and the look on her face made my Aunt back down which was something I’d never been able to do.

I knew that, if push came to shove, I could go back to work where Jan was a sub-editor but that paid nothing, literally, when I was an intern and not a whole lot more as an entry-level employee. Therefore, I wrote letters and made calls to anybody and everybody I knew. For every ten letters I wrote I received one response and out of every ten responses there were no interviews on offer. So, although I kept on trying, it was becoming clear that another strategy was needed and soon.

Rejections, whether they be personal or professional, are not fun and every time I voiced yet another on the phone from home to Jan she helped by just listening. She, of course, was still working hard and had moved up in her organization and so had her salary. As a result of that, she had now bought a small house and she invited me to visit.

This time, I didn’t ride my bike but took the train because I’d been ordered to take my single-texture fawn mackintosh which doesn’t work while riding a bike nor does it tuck easily into a saddlebag. The journey only took about an hour and I had a compartment to myself for the first half hour but then two middle-aged ladies got on and sat down opposite me.

I had not bothered to remove my mackintosh and as I scanned my newspaper, I was not aware that the hem had fallen back over my leg revealing the rubber lining. I was aware that my travelling companions were talking together quietly but I the clacking of the train wheels did not allow me to pick up more than the odd word. Then, conscious that my stop was coming up, I folded my newspaper and offered it to the ladies. One accepted it, thanked me, and pointed to my mackintosh as I began to refasten the buttons.

“That’s a very smart raincoat young man and very practical too,” one lady said. “My friend and I noticed it as soon as we got on. It is rubber-lined isn’t it?”

I confirmed that it was and then the other asked where I’d bought it. I saw no necessity to point out that this was in fact my second such garment both of which had been bought by Aunt Blanche or Jan but simply told them of Weatherford’s and the street name.

“Do they sell ladies raincoats as well as men’s?” they wanted to know. Given my experiences over the past three years, I could have given a dissertation on the subject but as the train was slowing into my destination, I simply nodded and as we drew to a stop, I retrieved my suitcase from ardahan escort the overhead rack and said my farewell.

Spying Jan walking down the platform towards me, I opened the door and stepped down and said to the two, “By the way, it’s always a mackintosh. Never, ever a raincoat.”

Then I hugged Jan who was wearing her rubber-surfaced shiny black mackintosh, which had raindrops beading on its highly polished material as well as on her matching rain hat. As we began to walk towards the exit, I stole a glance back and saw the two women staring after us and I mouthed the words, “Don’t you love the mac?” They both nodded eagerly and I grinned to myself.

As we approached Jan’s car, a traffic warden was pulling out his ticket book and pencil. “Hey,” yelled Jan, “I’m here.” The man turned at the sound of her voice and his jaw visibly dropped as she ran towards him and flashed her press pass. It wasn’t the press pass he was looking at as he put away his book but he simply could not resist touching her rubber-covered arm.

“Sorry Miss,” he gulped. “You should have put your press card on the dashboard.” And he shuffled off.

“But, judging by his obvious attraction to your mackintosh, I’ll bet he’s glad you didn’t,” I added as I caught up to her.

“It happens all the time when I wear this or something like it,” Jan grinned. “And I love it every time it happens.”

Jan’s house was about ten miles from the station so it shouldn’t have taken long but it was raining and it was rush hour and there had been an accident so it did. But that gave us a chance to talk about my job search and Jan revealed that there may be a chance of at a provincial newspaper in a town just outside London. It seemed that the editor was an old-school friend of Jan’s which prompted me to ask why she didn’t go for it.

“I’ve got other plans,” she said and swore me to secrecy that she was angling for a job on a Fleet Street newspaper. “Nothing is certain yet and it probably won’t be for another few months and it won’t be anything grand but it would be a start.”

I agreed and wished her well as we approached Jan’s new home. The house was bigger than I’d thought because it was not the classic British semi-detached. It was more like an American duplex with at least 3 bedrooms. However, the full tour would have to wait as I plonked my suitcase down at the bottom of the staircase and hugged Jan again.

So far, all I’d seen of her was her shiny black rubber mackintosh, her matching hat and her pointy heel boots. That changed as she poured some wine, put on some music, doffed her rain hat, pouted her lips and began to loosen the mackintoshes’ belt as she swayed back and forth.

Next came the buttons, one at a time from the bottom as she coyly swirled and smiled. Then, with the belt dangling and the buttons all undone, she gave me a quick flick of the inside of the mackintosh. I had been expecting to see the usual cotton lining of a typical SBR mackintosh but this one was rubber inside as well.

“Do you like what you see?”

Oh, Boy did I? I had never seen a material like this. I knew that double texture mackintoshes used one layer of rubber between two layers of another material, typically cotton but this was the opposite

Jan went on, “This way, I get the best of both worlds: I get to feel the rubber next to my skin and you and everyone else see the polish on the outside. The only drawback is that the double layers of rubber make it heavy but I can live with that.”

With those words, she coyly wrapped the bottom of her mackintosh around her and turned to face me. “Wank your cock for me while I show you the rest,” she grinned.

I know what works and so I opened my mackintosh and unbuttoned my fly. Underneath were my graduation boxers and, in time with Jan’s dance, I slowly revealed that which she demanded to see.

Gradually, she opened the front of the rubber to reveal a white latex bra, which had virtually no cups so that her full breasts swung free and temptingly before my eyes. The only other clothing was an open-crotch panty which matched her bra and patent leather thigh boots which clung to her shapely legs.

Meanwhile, my erection was approaching criticality and Jan, recognizing the symptoms, sat across my lap and guided my cock inside. Then squirming her hips she screwed me while her tits swayed in front of my face as I tried to capture one with my lips. When I eventually did, I gave the nipple a tug which made her squeal with delight and thrust her rubber-covered body tight against me as we both reached a towering orgasm.

“Welcome home,” she whispered and rested on my shoulders with her face snuggling into my neck.

A few minutes later, I helped Jan out of her rubber wear and boots, undressed myself and joined her in a hot shower. After we’d toweled off and applied talcum, Jan donned a blue rubberized taffeta kimono while I dressed in loose, blue latex pajamas and we made dinner together.

Elsie and Doris

Everybody artvin escort assumed that Elsie and Doris were sisters since they had the same last name and had shared a house together for as long as anyone could remember; they even looked alike to many but in fact, they were cousins. Elsie was a headmistress at a local junior school while Doris had been a clerk at the local bank ever since she herself had left school.

Neither had ever married but Doris had come close when she was in her early twenties. Outside work which consumed most of their attention, their passions were making jams and marmalade which they sold at local farmers markets and church fetes while their evenings were passed reading an unending stream of lurid mysteries and “bodice rippers.”

And the latter was about as close to sensuality as either woman would ever have admitted to herself let alone her cousin. The irony was though that both from time to time had been known to fondle her own body but only under the covers of their separate beds in separate rooms and only in the dark and with a staunch determination to stifle any inadvertent sounds.

“That was a very handsome young man,” observed Elsie one Saturday morning over the breakfast table.

“Hmm, who was?” came Doris’ reply from behind the pages of her newspaper.

“You know the one on the train. Wearing that raincoat.”

As Doris emerged from behind the sports section because, much against her cousin’s wishes, she sometimes enjoyed a “flutter on the gee-gees”, she looked over the rim of her glasses and said, “Mackintosh dear. Remember what he said.”

“What’s the difference?” the other demanded.

“I think it’s the fact that they have a rubber coating which was invented by Charles Mackintosh years ago.” “This makes them waterproof, not just rainproof or shower resistant like our raincoats. Remember when we got soaked coming back from shopping two weeks ago?”

“So, is it practicality you seek or is there something else?”

Elsie blushed invisibly, “Well he was handsome and he looked so sexy in his mackintosh”.

Doris pretended outrage at the very mention of the idea but then softened and said, “Well we have nothing much to do today, so how about a train ride and a visit to Weatherford’s?”

“I’ll be ready in 30 minutes to go and buy my first mackintosh,” replied Elsie and she whistled as she headed upstairs to dress.

Doris did not even know that her cousin could whistle.


“So what do you want to buy? asked Elsie as they settled down in their train seats.

“Well,” said her cousin. “I know a want a real mackintosh.”

“You mean rubber; what is it about that has become so important to you?”

Doris thought for a while, “It looked so good on him. I loved the look and when he stood up to get off the train, there was a scent and the sound … It just got to me somehow.

“Sometimes you worry me,” said her cousin and their compartment then went quiet.

A ten-minute taxi ride brought the couple to the front door of the store and one question to the doorman found them in the outerwear department. Then the two went their separate ways as Doris inhaled a hint of the mackintosh of the handsome young man on the train and she felt a stirring which she had tried to ignore.

An assistant appeared and asked if “‘Modom’ needed help.”

At the time, “Modom”, was fingering a green double-texture riding mackintosh which the assistant declared was perfect for “Modom”.

Doris tried it on and as the assistant busied herself with the buttons, she opted not to cinch the belt but rather to tie it. The assistant clucked dissatisfaction and hinted, not very discretely, that only Parisian street walkers belted their mackintoshes that way.

Suitably chastened, Doris headed for the mirror and her version of a twirl as Elsie came around the corner wearing a dark beige version of the one Doris bore and joined her by the mirror. Naturally Elsie’s mac was belted correctly. Typical, she always was the “Goody Two Shoes.” By this time, the store assistant was making out their bill so the cousins paid, took their purchases and left.

Serious shopping calls for serious consequences like tea and scones at the nearest café. They placed their shopping bags by their knees as Elsie ordered a pot of Darjeeling tea for two and scones with strawberry jam. It never occurred to her to ask Doris’ opinion because they always took Darjeeling and scones had to be accompanied by strawberry jam. No question!

For once in her life, while Elsie poured, Doris sniffed the air and her nostrils caught the rubber scent of their mackintoshes.

“I like what we bought but they’re not like the young man on the train had,” she mused.

“Well, it’s too late now to take them back so that’s that,” replied her cousin. “And just in time! Look outside.”

It was starting to rain and Elsie led the way by opening her bag and taking out her mackintosh. When she had removed ataköy escort the labels, she folded the coat she had been wearing and donned the new one. Advising Doris to follow her lead, Elsie called the waitress and paid the bill. Then the two left the café and scurried towards the station to catch their train.

Later, at bedtime they said their goodnights and went their separate ways. As Doris hung up her clothes she dwelt on her new mackintosh for a moment and luxuriated in its scent. Then slipping off her nightdress, she donned the mackintosh, buttoned it and tied the belt. Parisian streetwalker indeed! She’d show ’em but not with this mac. She knew now that she wanted a single-texture mac as she so wanted to feel the rubber lining next to her skin.

But before she climbed into bed, she took off her mackintosh and draped it over her counterpane. “It’ll have to do for tonight,” she mused, then she turned off the light and drew the mackintosh closer to her cheek and began to fondle herself never dreaming that in the room across the hall, her cousin was doing the exact same thing.

The next day was Sunday and, as usual, the couple walked to their local church. Not that either was particularly religious but rather because it had been a habit since they were children and it was a good way to catch up with friends and all the gossip. So securely clad in their new mackintoshes they set off.

Since early that morning, Doris had been trying to think up a way to tell her cousin that she intended to buy another mackintosh in addition to the green one she was wearing. The problem was that Elsie hated extravagance and Doris was certain that she would perceive it that way. Then, though she had a brainwave as they were walking home through the drizzle arm in arm and sharing a large umbrella, she had an idea.

Elsie broke the silence and said, “Wasn’t it nice to see Dorothy back at church although she seems to have lost a lot of weight after the surgery?”

Doris agreed and then she went on to relate her conversation with the aforementioned lady. Apparently Dorothy had complimented her on the practicality and the stylishness of the green mackintosh but had said that Elsie’s choice of fawn would make it easier to match with other clothing or accessories.

“And Elsie, while I wouldn’t have said so to her, I feel bound to agree and I may go back to Weatherford’s on my day off tomorrow.”

“I didn’t know you had a day off tomorrow. How did that come to be?” “And I don’t think the shop will exchange it now after it’s been worn.” She went on.

“Well the day off is a result of all the overtime I put in at the end of last quarter and I wasn’t thinking of exchanging it but getting another closer to your color choice.”

Predictable as ever, Elsie replied, “Well I don’t see why anyone would want to spend the money on two mackintoshes but it’s your bank account and if you want to fritter it away, that’s your business I suppose.”

Doris smiled a smile of smug satisfaction. She had got past that hurdle unscathed and she began to imagine what she should buy. She certainly didn’t want fawn as keeping it clean would be a challenge and she knew that rubberized materials can’t be thrown into the washing machine or sent to the cleaners. And red was out because she was supposed to be finding something whose color went with everything. So perhaps navy-blue? Or better yet, black. That’s it, a black rubber mackintosh but not like that young man’s girlfriend wore. She would look like a streetwalker in that although she was forced to admit that the young woman carried it well. But that was the point, she was young and I’m not she sighed.

The next day, as Doris was about to leave the house for the train station, Vivian called. Vivian was a work colleague at the bank and she, too, had the day off. Vivian had an appointment with her mother’s solicitor and asked Doris what her plans were. Thus it was that Doris was able to get a ride in Vivian’s car instead of on the train and as she was dropped off at the front door of Weatherford’s, they arranged to meet up for lunch and the journey back.

Doris hoped that she would not encounter the same assistant as she had the previous Saturday and, for once, her wish was granted. Instead she was greeted by a lady of about her own age whose nametag revealed her to be the manager of the outerwear department. Doris explained that she was looking for a single-texture preferably in black and the woman said they had received new stock over the weekend but that it was not on display yet. However, she said if Doris would care to have a seat she would go to the stockroom.

Five minutes later, she reappeared with her arms full of merchandise and plopped them onto the glass-topped counter. ‘”Let’s try this for size to start with,” and held out a black cotton-faced garment. Doris beamed inwardly as she saw the smooth rubber lining which made her shiver as it’s cool touch caressed her arms. “Don’t worry my dear,” said the lady, “It’ll soon warm up. And you’ll find it’s lighter than many others because there is less material but its both windproof and waterproof. Note that it isn’t stitched together like some less-expensive mackintoshes but all the seams are taped to seal out the rain and seal in the warmth.

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