I am almost constantly obsessed with wearing latex. I would wear it all the time if I could, but I know that I have wasted countless hours and missed many opportunities because of my inability to find a balance betwen my craving and the rest of my live.
Two to five times a week I am drawn into my ritual:
While in the shower I give myself a good, close "Brazilian" shave. I lube the inside of my rubber singlet, catsuit or bicycle shorts with a silicone lubricant, and apply lots of gooey j-lube to my rear. Then, I work a vibrating plug or d*ld* into myself and pull on the latex. Next, I pour about two about tablespoons of j-lube inside, and spead it around the area where most people would have p*bic hair. Once I smooth out the wrinkles and air bubbles, I'm sealed inside an airtight layer of slimy, form-fitting rubber from the tops of my thighs to my waist.
The latex caresses my most sensitive areas with every move I make, and the feeling is exquisite. But I'm not done yet. I pull on a long-leg, high waist compression garment that firmly presses the slick rubber to my skin. At this point, all I have to do is take a deep breath to feel the rubber sliding against me. Even walking can be overwhelming. My outfit is f*cking me. My body will be relentlessly stimulated for the next two to sixteen hours, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
I then put on my work clothes and head out of the house. I don't get a lot done at work on those days. On non work-days, I slide my already compressed body into my tightest jeans, toss on a long shirt and run errands.
The vibrator makes surprisingly little noise inside me, so I can often leave it on for as long as I can stand it. If I'm going someplace noisy or on a long car trip, I'll put a vibrating egg between the shapewear and the latex.
I feel such shame. I wish somebody could help me, but I can't bring myself to talk to anybody about it.