A Beach Walk Naked Under A Clear Plastic Raincoat

On beach vacations I always bring rubber boots and rubber gloves that I wear for night shelling at low tide, which is one of my favorite pastimes. In case of rain I have a rubberized poncho. I also carry a clear plastic hooded raincoat for bicycle riding in the rain, as we bicycle everywhere while at the beach.

One night I arise for a 3-a.m. low tide. My wife and I sleep naked and I always keep rubber knee boots by the bedside, so I slip my bare feet into my shiny black and orange rubber boots and pad quietly out onto the darkened screened porch, naked in my rubber boots, to discover that a steady rain is falling but fortunately there is no lightning. The breeze is negligible and the air is warm and comfortable on my bare skin. Ordinarily I would wear my rubber poncho over a T-shirt and cargo shorts for shelling in the rain, but suddenly I remember the raincoat. On impulse I make the daring decision to go shelling naked under the clear plastic raincoat. At 3 a.m. I’m unlikely to encounter anyone else on the beach, especially on a rainy night. My wife does not share my passions either for nocturnal shelling or for wearing rubber boots, so she continues sleeping.

First, I take off my rubber knee boots and slip my bare feet into thin, unlined Totes-type rubber boots to which I have attached knee-high rubber uppers. I wrap a velcroed rubber strap around the top of each boot to hold it up; this also serves to keep the uppers tightly closed around my legs, helping to keep water out of my rubber boots if my legs are unexpectedly inundated by a breaking wave. Because these thin rubber boots are vulnerable to punctures from sharp shell fragments, I fasten sandals on my boots to protect them. Next, I put on the clear plastic raincoat and button it up; it has no zipper. I don a baseball cap and pull the hood over it, fastening the front of the hood over the bill of the cap with clips to keep the cap dry and hold the hood away from my face. Finally, I wriggle my hands into elbow-length, unlined, red rubber gloves and I pull the sleeves of the raincoat down over the gloves. Then I set off down the beach with a flashlight, cool rain pattering heavily on my raincoat, exhilarated by this risqué act of going out naked under a clear plastic raincoat. With plastic against my bare body and cool rubber encasing my arms, legs, and bare feet, I’m highly aroused and there is a conspicuous protuberance beneath the front of my raincoat at hip level. As I walk I discover that the gap between the raincoat’s buttons at the level of my hips parts slighty with the walking motion, and eventually my erect ****—which remains turgid throughout the walk—finds his way out through this gap. He appears to thoroughly enjoy the exposure, his mushroom-shaped head swinging happily back and forth as I walk along. Occasionally he receives an affectionate squeeze or brief massage from my rubber-gloved hand, but not enough to provoke him to spurt, because I take great pleasure in his excitement and I don’t want him to shrivel and retreat beneath the raincoat.

I delight in watching my thin black rubber boots, wet and glistening under the flashlight, creasing and quivering as I splash through the surf, and I luxuriate in the feeling of the thin rubber being compressed around my legs and bare feet as I wade deeply into limpid tidal pools, letting the water reach dangerously close to the tops of my rubber boots. I even find a few nice shells. The rain eventually begins to slacken and I head slowly back toward the cottage, reluctant to end this remarkable experience but thinking it’s wisest to conclude it before dawn. As expected, I have found no one else out on the beach. It would not concern me if there were others about; it’s dark, and looking through this plastic raincoat is akin to looking through a clear plastic shower curtain—it’s obvious that the person on the other side is naked, but anatomic details are indistinct. If fact, I’m a little disappointed not to have encountered anyone on the beach. I would quickly have hidden my ****, of course, but it would have been interesting to observe the other beachgoer’s reaction if he or she had realized what I was (not) wearing under my raincoat. If they also were wearing rubber boots, I wonder if they might have paused for a bit of conversation—or would they have been disconcerted and hurried away . . . .

This was an adventure that I want to repeat if the occasion arises.
barefeetinrubberboots barefeetinrubberboots
66-70, M
Nov 27, 2012