I had just completed my A-levels and I was waiting for the results. I knew I'd done OK in two but the other one worried me.
Then, my parents wanted me to go away with them on holiday but I demurred that I was old enough to stay home alone, as I was now 18. And, the compromise was that I didn't have to travel with them but that I needed to get a summer job to keep me out of trouble.
Well, I'd often thought about going into journalism after my degree and so I started applying. The best that I could find was an intern's job at a local newspaper in a town about 40 miles away. Now that's quite a distance on a bike, twice a day so my mother called her sister and arranged that she would give me a room for a few weeks.
As far as I could remember, I'd never met Auntie Blanche but I needed the job experience to add to my resume and I needed the room and I didn't need 2 weeks in Cornwall with my parents.
So one Sunday afternoon I packed my 2 saddlebags checked the tyres and set off. The first 20 miles went OK but then it started to drizzle which then turned into a steady rain. Which meant that, by the time I got to Auntie Blanche's, I was very wet and very tired..
The house was named, "The Laurels" and the front of the house said it all. The front garden was full of bushes, all of which were dripping wet and a little sooty when I arrived. Then I tried to remember where I'd been told to look for the key. Eventually, I found it but, as I was about to put the key into the lock, the door opened.
And there was Auntie Blanche obviously going out and dressed for the weather. She looked me up and down, pointed me to my room and the bathroom, and said she'd be back and that I should help myself to food.
I could not wait to get out of wet clothes, take a shower and unpack my meager teenage belongings.
A teenage boy is either tired, hungry, or both. And Auntie Blanche's refrigerator was full of good stuff and stuff I didn't recognize. So I chose the recognizable, ate, went to my room and crashed.
The next couple of days were filled with work because, as I learned very rapidly, newspapers work on weekends as well. But on Monday I was released in the middle of the afternoon from my endless chores of running copy from one desk to another and running shopping errands for anyone who was higher up in the pecking order than I. And, as I was at the bottom, that meant everybody.
My Aunt's car was not in the drive when I got home so I knew I had the house to myself but, since I'd worked all weekend, I needed a nap. On my way to my room and, perhaps for the first time, I noticed the coats hanging in the hallway. One of them was a bottle-green ladies raincoat with an intriguing aroma. As I stroked it as it swung on its hanger, I felt an unfamiliar but welcome stirring. My watch said that Aunt Blanche would not be home for hours and so I swept it from the rack, buried my face in it and took it to with me.
There, after I'd showered and toweled off, I picked up the coat only to discover that as I'd hoped, it was really a hooded cape made from some kind of rubber-lined material. It took only a moment to slip it on and poke my arms through the arm slits and even though I daren't look at my image in the mirror, the rubber felt so good against my skin.
Lying on my bed in the cape, I could not resist stroking my penis as I drew up the hood around my face and inhaled its scent. I came very quickly as teenage boys will but I'd been smart enough to bring a towel from the bathroom for that very purpose.
Then, as teenage boys do too, I fell asleep.
The next thing I knew was the sound of an intrusive cough and when I opened my eyes there was Auntie Blanche standing at the foot of my bed, arms akimbo, with a look on her face that I could not interpret. She was wearing a black mackintosh with a hood but all I knew was that I was naked under a ladies rain cape which I hurriedly pulled over my lower body and waited for I knew not what.
Without saying a word, she walked to the side of the bed and sat down on the edge. With one hand, she picked up the towel and sniffed it while with the other she swept the cape aside.
"Well," she said, "Let's see if you can do it again. Can you?"
I shook my head at which Auntie Blanche raised the hood on her own mackintosh, and with her left hand cupped my balls in the rubber lining of my cape while, with her leather gloved right hand, she started to masturbate me. All the time she never took her eyes from my face.
"Put your hand inside my mackintosh and tell me what you feel," she ordered.
"A rubber lining," I croaked because those were the first words I'd spoken since Auntie had caught me.
"That's right," she said. "Because you really like rubber don't you Colin"?
I nodded my assent as my penis was now thoroughly aroused as Auntie's hand moved faster over its whole length. And the increase in speed was accompanied by a growing crescendo of rustling from my cape and her satin mackintosh.
"Now put your hand under my dress and tell me what you feel."
I could feel a nylon-covered leg and said so.
"Go higher," she demanded, "And tell me what you find."
Gingerly my palm went up until I encountered the unmistakable feel of bare thigh crossed by taut suspender straps.
"Count the straps and tell me what they're attached to," was her next command.
There were four to each leg but I could not identify the garment except to know that it wasn't a suspender belt that I knew most of my girlfriends had worn from time to time even though a glimpse of them was very rare.
"And it's rubber," she added. "More precisely it's latex. Now put your hand between my legs."
I did so and encountered her sex but not surrounded by the pubic hair I had expected but rather a smooth mound with a slit, which was showing signs of increasing wetness. That did it for me and I said, "Auntie, I'll need the towel soon."
"No you won't," she muttered and bent over and took my penis in her mouth and sucked as I exploded. She sucked and sucked for what seemed like ages. Then getting up from the edge of the bed, she leaned over and kissed me, passing some of my semen to me as she did so.
"I have a dinner appointment," she said, "And you'll have to fend for yourself."
As she reached the bedroom door she cinched the broad belt of her mackintosh after pulling down its skirt which highlighted her breasts.
"Of course, you could decide to leave and go home before I get back but, if you are still here, and I think you will be, I have some plans for you over the next few weeks my boy. And I bet Uncle Sidney will too. I'll discuss those with her tonight.
My mind whirled as I headed for the shower again and washed off the scarlet circle of her lipstick from my now-subsiding penis. Who was Uncle Sidney? Moreover, how could an uncle be a she?
Should I leave and go home? How would I explain it to my parents? I couldn't tell them or anyone else the truth as they wouldn't believe me. And I still needed the job at the newspaper. And, besides there was this "rubber thing" that I really wanted to know more about.
Thus it was that I embarked on an incredible experience that opened my eyes to a sexuality I had never imagined.
I had been working for six days straight and I'd just had a sexual encounter with my Auntie. It was all too much for an 18 year-old, so I ate again and crashed into bed.
As daylight dawned in my room and penetrated my eye lids, I pondered the day ahead and the night before. At the end of the bed, my bathrobe was gone and a garment I'd never seen before had replaced it while the green rain cape was still there. I knew I didn't have to be in the office until noon and I'd had all the sleep I could handle for a while.
And I was hungry and the only source of food was in the kitchen. There was no way, I was going to wear last night's rain cape nor was I going into the kitchen in just a towel. So, I picked up the new garment which was a short bathrobe in crimson, rubberized satin and walked to the kitchen.
Auntie had just poured a cup of tea as I walked in and, although I couldn't see the look on her face, I stammered out a quiet, "Good Morning Auntie".
"From now on, you will address me as Aunt or Aunt Blanche but never, ever Auntie. Now come here", and she pointed to a spot directly in front of her. I obeyed and stood there as she stared into my eyes and reached inside my robe and gave my cock a couple of quick strokes.
"I love the feel of a young cock in the morning," she said, "And I think it's time to tell you a couple of other things. First, I love rubber, especially rubber mackintoshes, and it's seems you share that family gene. Secondly, while you are in my house, there will be a couple of rules to which you will adhere. You had a chance to leave last night but you did not. So my house, my rules. You are wearing a rubber-lined garment now and that, and others like it, is what you will wear inside. Understood"?
I nodded mutely as she went on, "Look outside and you will see that it's pouring down today and so, before you go to work, we shall go into town to buy you a proper mackintosh; Any questions?'
"No Auntie," I whispered. She jerked my cock she still held and hissed, "Aunt Blanche, not Auntie. Now pour me another cup of tea and get one for yourself before I give you one more chore before we go into town."
"Yes, Aunt Blanche," was all I could muster as I followed her directions.
After my tea and toast, I asked permission to leave and shower prior to our shopping trip because, by this time, I knew she meant business and anyway I was fascinated. Again, she didn't say a word but simply gestured that I should stand in front of her. When I did, her hand slipped inside the rubber of my robe and her grip on my cock left me in no doubt that I was expected to kneel down.
Aunt Blanche looked straight into my eyes as she slipped her hand inside her scarlet kimono and although I couldn't see what she was doing it became very clear, very soon. For a start, there was that rhythmic rustling of the garment's rubber lining as she stroked herself; first slowly and then with increasing intensity. And, even if I been deaf and stupid, the look on her face said it all. In a very few moments she flung back one hem of her kimono and pulled my head between her widespread legs.
Her vagina was right there in front of me and she ordered me to lick and suck as she covered my head with the rubber lining of the kimono. She was very much in control as she held my head and directed my tongue with a stream of instructions. Soon she began to slide down in her chair as she thrust her soaking "pussy", as she called it, hard against my face. Next, as one hand rubbed her clitoris, she moaned and a flood of slippery liquid washed over my face. After a couple of seconds she stood and left me kneeling with my face shining from her orgasm.
"One thing you will learn soon is that a rubber lining like this one is very easy to wipe and keep clean which is fortunate for you for, from now on, you'll be doing it. Now run my bath, then go, and get ready to go out. I'll ring this little bell whenever I want you to attend to my needs."
About 30 minutes later, I'd shaved and showered and dressed in the best clothes I had with me as I knew that Aunt Blanche was always fastidious when she went out and would expect the same from me. As I was finishing putting on my shoes, the bell tinkled and, just like Pavlov's dogs, I obeyed it.
Aunt Blanche was sitting in front of her dressing table completing her makeup. When she had finally blotted her lipstick to her satisfaction she stood up and removed the kimono with its characteristic swishing rustle to reveal that she was wearing a black bra, which was very pointed, and, which I learned eventually, was called a "bullet bra". However, it was not the bra that gained most of my attention but rather her suspender belt, which I counted, had no less than 7 straps for each leg.
"I don't often wear this when I'm alone as it's a lot of work to fasten all the clips. But now it's your job," she declared triumphantly. With that she sat back down at her dressing table and drew on a pair of sheer black stockings with a seam running down the back of each. Then she stood and directed me to begin clipping the straps to the welt of the stocking.
I was careful to follow her every instruction to ensure that the seams were laser-straight and that the straps were adjusted to the proper length and tautness so they would stay that way. She then stepped into a pair of latex French knickers, which she explained helped to make her pussy smell and taste of this magic material. A skirt and a fine cotton sweater completed her outfit as well as a pair black high-heeled shoes and the same black satin mackintosh that she had worn the day before. However, this time it was my duty to fasten all the buttons and the strap, which held it tight around her neck. Finally, I tightened the belt with the skirt pulled taut below it, which made her breasts thrust forward. Taking one last look at herself in the mirror and running her hands over her breasts and hips one last she was satisfied and we left the house.
I had recently passed my driving test and gained my first license and so I offered to drive. The look from Aunt Blanche could have made Hell itself freeze over. "I'm in charge, young man wherever I am and not just at home."
With that we were off on the 20 minute drive into the small market town and though it wasn't raining it was a, not atypical summer day in England, in other words, overcast with a blustery breeze blowing. Then, as if ordained, Aunt Blanche found a vacant parking space just across the street from a store whose sign proclaimed it"Weatherfords, Ladies and Gentleman's Outfitters"
I opened the car door for my Aunt, which she didn't deign to acknowledge and then almost ran across the street to push open the door to the store for her to enter. Clearly, Aunt Blanche was well known as one assistant greeted her by name and, equally clearly, she knew her way around the place as, without hesitation, she headed for the rainwear department, which catered to both men and women.
As a somewhat stern looking woman approached us, the first thing I noticed was the increasingly familiar aroma of the rubber linings. "We're looking for a mackintosh for my nephew here. "Certainly Madam," she demurred, "Let's just try this one for size." And with that, she helped me into a coat in a fawn fabric which seemed to fit me well and I fully expected Aunt Blanche to choose it. I should have known better.
"No, that won't do at all," my Aunt protested. "That's double-textured and we want a single-textured mackintosh. You must have some". The assistant nodded and went off to bring the required garment.
In the meantime, by looking at the coat I was wearing and comparing it to others scattered around the store I figured out what the interchange meant. Double texture meant that the rubber was sandwiched between two layers of cotton fabric and, as I came to this conclusion, Aunt Blanche, said," No you want single texture so the rubber lining is visible and, more importantly, you can feel it against your skin. And the sound it makes is better and so special." I knew by now that this was not a question but rather a statement of fact. Whatever Aunt Blanche said was what was going to happen.
Then the assistant was back with two different styles of single-textured mackintosh. Before I even tried the first one on, I noticed another difference as well as the appearance and the noise it made and I said so.
"Well," Aunt Blanche interrupted, "Its aroma is more distinctive and the sound even has a name which is 'susurrus'". I was about to ask what the word meant but thought better of it for the moment.
But the first style was rejected also because it didn't have a belt while the second one did and Aunt Blanche pronounced herself satisfied after chiding me to tighten it. "Don't bother to wrap it as he'll wear it straightaway but, while I'm here, I may as well have a look around." With that she was combing through rack after rack of ladies garments. With a feeling of impending doom, I followed as she pounced first on a red rubber-lined cape, which came to her mid-calf. "For me, to replace the one you seem to have taken a liking to and I like the look of this one in shiny black rubber. But they only have your size so that will have to do"
"Aunt Blanche," I protested, "That's a ladies mackintosh."
"So it is," she replied. "And just perfect for what I have in mind and Uncle Sidney will love it too".
Aunt Blanche dropped me off at work just as it was beginning to rain. As I entered the newsroom, a sub-editor spotted me still dressed in my new mackintosh. "Perfect," she exclaimed, "I was wondering who we could send to cover this funeral and you're the only one with a mac. Here's the address; just about 100 words will be enough. Be back by 3 so we can get it into the evening edition."
And that was my first reporting assignment; not exactly a Fleet Street scoop but you have to start somewhere and all because Aunt Blanche insisted on dressing me in a mackintosh.
I made it back from the cemetery just in time to file my story although when I went looking for my name on the by-line later, I found an older and usually intoxicated stringer in the office had replaced me. But, at least, I knew the truth. After the evening edition had been put to bed and before the night staff came in many members of the newsroom went for a drink before wending their way home and tonight, I decided to join them to celebrate the fact that my deathless prose was now in print.
As I entered the pub and wiped the steam from my glasses, I saw some of my new colleagues laughing over something around a small table. Too small for me as it turned out but the sub-editor who'd given me my assignment saw me and joined me at the bar. I opened my mackintosh as she approached in order to retrieve my wallet but she insisted on doing the treating. "I do like the mac," she said, "Had it long"?
I confessed that it was new and she responded by stroking the sleeve and raising it to her cheek. "I love the smell," she smiled. "It's so sexy."
Now this woman, whose name was Jan had to be at least ten years older than I and I did wonder if she was coming onto me but I wasn't sure so I played it safe and didn't take the bait. After finishing just the one drink because I'd never been much of a drinker and I knew I should be getting back to Aunt Blanche as we were supposed to be having dinner together. Therefore, I took my leave and went out into what was turning into a downpour. Standing in a shop doorway, I buttoned my mackintosh all the way up, adjusted the wrist straps and tightened my belt before making a dash for it.
The bus came in about five minutes and it soon deposited me at the end of the road whence stood "The Laurels." The rain had eased up a bit but even so, I jogged the rest of the way, listening to the way the rubber whispered and rustled and enjoying the heady scent as it warmed to my body.
Entering the house, I debated going straight to my room but decided to report to Aunt Blanche first. She was sitting in the living room watching the evening news while she sipped on a glass of wine and smoked a cigarette.
"Come here," she ordered in a voice that suggested the glass of wine was not her first. She was wearing the same scarlet kimono I'd seen earlier as I started to remove my mackintosh. "Leave it on," she commanded, "And come here."
She opened her kimono and I saw to my surprise that she was still wearing the latex knickers over the black suspender belt. "You've been a good boy today, so now it's time for your treat." With that she rolled down the knickers and indicated that I should kneel before her again. "Smell my pussy and give it a lick," and when I did she quivered, "Can you smell and taste the rubber?"