Wednesday 3 August 2011

Watch out! It's the Caped Cocksucker!

This is about one of several fetishes I have which can be traced back to my short time in the Boy Scouts before my caning at the fateful Summer camp and consequent expulsion. ("Entered Scouts as a 'tenderfoot'. Kicked out with tender bum!") By the way, August 5th is the anniversary day of this life-changing event. I always cringe inside when this date approaches. 
   Before going to camp (just outside a village on the Yorkshire moors) I was given this ex-army brown rubber groundsheet/cape by an old uncle who used to be in the army but didn't want it any more. He could have had no idea what the effect on me would have been. I'd already got the heady rubber smell when packing it, but on that first night in the tent when I laid it out on the grassy ground and lay on it to sleep, it took me onto an entirely new plane.
I don't think there's any need to describe what was happening to my body inside the sleeping bag, but the masculine army smell from the cape made it almost impossible to sleep. I was sharing a tent with a Scout one year ahead of me at school, who embarrassingly for me, didn't worry at all about stripping off his shirt and shorts in front of me (no underpants, of course). I have a memory of him kneeling shamelessly stark naked (the tent being too small to stand up in), with a tuft of dark hair on his groin, making small talk with me, quite friendly but not overly so, and slowly checking the money from his shorts back pocket (teasingly slow - was he tantalising me?) while I was trying my best to avert my eyes, before he dived into his own sleeping bag resting on his green groundsheet. I only took off my own shorts and put on pyjamas under the cover of being inside the bag, which was very awkward. (Didn't I at least once during one night hear a rhythmic, rubbing-motion sound? Maybe - but if there was I wasn't the one causing it. I was too shit-scared to let anyone else think that I played with myself, although I'd already started doing that in the privacy of my own bedroom.)
Anyway, getting back to the cape, after I was booted out of the Scouts I kept the cape - my uncle didn't ask for it back. It wasn't long before I was 'using' it in a way that it wasn't intended for, in my bedroom seclusion back home. I just couldn't help myself, even though I knew it was a 'mortal sin'. It got me so fuckin' randy. I can't say how many times I employed it for this purpose during the rest of my adolescence but when I eventually moved to a place of my own I really let my hair down! I not only did the same things with it - lying on that cool, smooth rubber against my naked body - but I took to wearing it out in the rain for its other purpose as a cape - but only in the dark. I wasn't brave enough to display myself wearing this fetish in broad daylight - yet.
    Sometimes on these nocturnal perambulations in the rain I'd unbutton my fly so that my cock had the freedom it was demanding. But, of course, you might guess what often happened. I'd not go far before I lost control and the path behind me would be spotted with white 'goo' mixed with the rainy surface.
    But this particular 'garment' has given me immense 'satisfaction' on countless occasions, and I trust will continue to do so.
    Once, a late contact of mine,who was a real sadist, made me put on the cape over my naked body, as above, but still wearing boots, and made me, in the dusk, run round the circumference of a golf-course near his house, he watching to see that I followed his instruction to the letter. I couldn't refuse because he'd hidden away my wallet and my house keys as well as my return train ticket. So I just had to do what he said, much to his own amusement and entertainment, the nasty bugger! It's a wonder I didn't twist an ankle or worse, running about there in the near-dark in boots on uneven ground.
   I have to say that the original cape given me by my uncle eventually disintegrated with all the 'battering' it took. The rubber side started to come off in flakes. So as recently as just 2 months ago I binned it. The one shown in this pic is a newer hardly-used one - bought at a high price. They're practically museum-pieces now- but from precisely the same World War II period. (The British army capes in the 1960s were changed to a green colour and, though rubberised within, didn't have that sexy, cool, rubber external surface.)
     I've also got yet another rubber army cape which, very curiously, has it's waterproof rubber surface on the inside. The outer side is a lightish sandy-khaki colour which looks almost fluorescent - very conspicuous. I've never yet dared to wear this one out yet. I'm sure I will sometime, but I'd have to get myself pissed first - and anyway, how many steps could I take before the feel of that rubber surface against my protruding cock will have the inevitable effect?