"i want recreate those shots. i like the dark element of what you did. the idea of threat. having you as a silent danger. not into the domination stuff such as the idea of getting away from the completely normal. the factory stuff reminded me of the Saw / Hostel films which always seem to have a home erotic side to them.
i sound like a very disturbed individual"
it was my last day.
if i was still a child, my last day would be spent in a school classroom. student numbers slowly dwindling down until all that remained was the kids too poor to go away early on summer vacation. aside from their silent smiling pity, the only compensation our teachers could offer was forcibly gathering the left-over children of the underclass into one common room and letting us make cheap lame hand-made christmas decorations to take home to place on our even lamer hand-made christmas trees. that home usually being a house, or for me, for a few years, a trailer
who's that kid at the back of the room
baking under the hot sun in early days of summer we were crammed into little sweatshops. disappointed and angry. even in our tender years we were bitter about what had become of us. yet out of this dire misery, with our fingertips gleefully stained from mixing clag glue and colourful crepe-paper, we crafted symbols of joy and celebration. our denial was a bright and happy occaision
setting those papers on fire...
however, now i am a grown-up in grown-up land, i finally see it inexcusably ludicrous for Australian children to be colouring-in and decorating their homes with Santa Clause, Raindeer and Snowmen in the bright and sunny blistering heights of summer. also in grown-up land, our last days of semester are replaced with our last days in the office. my office is somewhat different. i can walk out of it anytime i want. but somewhere between my solid work ethic and greed makes me overbook myself right to the very end
we never see him with the girls….
this guy wanted an American Horror Story style rubberman rape and manhandling in an abandoned building. the Dunlop Factory was the ideal location but in the middle of the day i was bound to run into security, or worse, friends cruising for cock.
*****
"hey, fancy seeing you here!" i would hear a voice come from somewhere within this abandoned building, and turn to see an old chum
"G'day!" my voice slighty muffled so i enforce it with a polite wave. a black plastic wrapped hand in the air.
"so whatcha doin'?"
"oh you know," as i point to the naked slave being mouthraped at my feet, "just another day the office."
my friend looks down, "oh yeah, of course. working hard or hardly working, right?" he laughs
"oh, you *giggle*" i shoo him off away. my giggling could barely be heard over the crinkling of plastic as i thrust my cock deep into his gagging throat. "see down the pub for a beer later?"
"wouldn't dream of doing anything else, mate."
that scenario is one to avoid.
******
the other unappealling scene is riding the next few blocks on a motorbike dressed in tight black plastic at 11am.
i entertained the idea for a while until i tried to wrap myself in plastic. it's not possible to do it yourself
i had to relocate. my old employer. my dear old filthy dark sex club. it was a far better and far sexier idea than leaving the front door of a half-boxed apartment open with a rubber man standing at the far end of it. the client also welcomed a changed of location.
i turned up to the front cage with nothing but roll of black plastic wrap and a handful of dreams. "Fluffy, i need your help." Fluffy, being the man he is, was more than happy to help. every homo loves to play dress ups and body wrapping incorporates our natural skills of craft and design. much those poor children denied an education and forced to glue strips of paper tinsel in the steaming heat summer, Fluffy could not have asked for a better interruption of his day. christmas came early this year. in boots and a jockstrap with leg cocked up high on the counter and my former employer dancing around my hairy drumsticks like an excited demon child at a satanic maypole, it was the best greeting for customers wondering into a sex club at 11am that morning. they smiled politely and moved on inside making the most of the $5 lunchtime special
we never talk to him
he never looks quite right
all plans and efforts were ruined when the client turned up early. i stressed many times to wait until 11:30am. does an erect penis listen? no. i was up to my tits in wrap when he introduced himself. the illusion of a threatening rubber man was shattered as i tried to ignore him, then regretfully waved back. if only he waited 5 more minutes when my head was wrapped and i stomped into the dark backroom.
it was kind of weird, kind of fun and kind of disappointing to have all that hard work torn to shreds in minutes. but stalking patrons in a maze was damn good fun. even though some knew who i was, they steered clear. they feared the rubber man! as for the client, he loved tearing me open like a christmas present. it was a break from his regular day, his planned career, his growing old and maybe, just maybe, his wife and kids
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