People nearly always say how difficult and sometimes impossible it is for men to tell their wives about their feelings and involvement with rubber. I know that we, the female sex, appear to be the minority, but has anyone any idea how it is for a wife to tell her husband how much rubber means to her? It’s far more difficult for a woman to tell a man, particularly one who thinks that he is a great lover and being just that is all she needs for her sexual satisfaction. Most men seem to think that only they need fantasies to stimulate them.
Remembering my first attraction to rubber was making a child’s bed, smoothing a rubber sheet on the mattress, thinking what a nice smell it had and how lovely to touch. It was so smooth and soft. For some time I held the sheet in my hands smelling it and holding it to my face. It was a very strange feeling that I couldn’t understand. Why? For about five years I spent a few afternoons a week with this little rubber sheet, lying on it, wrapping it around me – anything as long as I could feel it next to my skin.
My husband didn’t know anything about my feelings for rubber. I used to say to myself “This is ridiculous” but I still needed to be with rubber. I was completely unaware that books, clothing, anything to do with rubber were available in the right places. This is where I say again how impossible it was for a woman in that situation. You just couldn’t go into that sort of book shop, assuming you knew they existed which I didn’t. That’s where men have an advantage over women, especially 18 years ago.
It’s no problem to me now to buy anything to do with rubber-books or rubber clothing, because I know such things exist, and women aren’t frowned on so much.
Back to my early days. I can remember my husband had been away on business and I had decided to buy him a pair of rubber gloves. On the first evening he was home I put on my rubber gloves and asked him if he would like to put on the ones that I’d bought him. Then I asked him if we could go to bed like that, both of us with rubber gloves on. It took more courage to ask him that than anything I’ve ever done in my life. His reaction to both suggestions was I’d drunk too much, and I was silly, stupid and no one in their right mind would go to bed with rubber gloves on. I was very upset but at least I’d tried to involve him with my feelings for rubber, so we never mentioned it again. I still continued with my afternoons with rubber – alone.
Then I met J we went out for quite some time just enjoying each other’s company. There was no involvement of any, kind. We just enjoyed being with each other. I remember one day driving along and J asked me if I liked the leather suit in this book which, of course, was Atomage. I remember reading it and just not believing what I was reading: stories of rubber and leather, plus photographs. I was fascinated, but I didn’t let J know how I felt about seeing these things. I didn’t want him to think I was mad. Time went on and we were now living, together very happily but still no mention of rubber until one evening we were looking through a book with rubber clothes in it, and J asked me if I would like to wear something in rubber, maybe some underwear?
My feelings inside me just went wild to think that I could wear rubber next to my skin. My dream had come true. From then on we shared our feelings for rubber, but gradually. There are lots of stories to follow, some, I think, would interest you, Helen, for your book.
– V (Lancs)