The wrong trousers

When my Wife got home from work last night, She spotted my new T-shirt waiting to get put away.
Her : When did you get that cool new T-shirt?
Me : The radio station sent it to me.
Her : What did you win it for?
Me : I didn’t win it. They just sent it to me because of a text I sent in.

I explained about the question the DJ had posed to the audience and about the text I had sent in response. It was about my old PVC jeans.


About 8yrs ago, my Wife (then Girlfriend) and I had a rare night out at a rock club I’d used to frequent. It seemed appropriate to dress for the occasion, so I dug out my black PVC jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with artwork from a heavy metal band I liked. When my Girlfriend saw me in this outfit, She looked down at my tight shiny trousers and, with an air of distaste, said …
Her : Hmm. Not sexy.
I was cut to the quick, but said nothing. I wasn’t going to let my Girlfriend’s contempt spoil my night. I was going to have some fun … I hoped we were going to have some fun. To be fair, it wasn’t really Her kind of clubbing, and we headed home earlier than I would have liked, but I had had some fun. Just not as much as I’d used to have at the same venue.

The thing that stuck with me most from that night was my Girlfriend’s reaction. Let’s face it, getting told you look not sexy is something you don’t forget in a hurry. But when I related this to my Wife last night, She claimed to have no recollection of either my PVC jeans or Her comment.

I had told the story as light heartedly as possible, taking care not to seem bitter about the occasion, and was pleasantly surprised when my Wife enquired a little further about the trousers in question. She didn’t actually ask to see them, but as I was desperate for a fuck, and desperate for anything that might lead to a fuck, a plot was hatched in my mind. She was going to get to see them. And more importantly, She was going to get to see me in them.

Time is rarely kind to any of us, especially in physical terms, and I am realistic about the fact that I am not quite as svelte and athletic as I was 8yrs ago. My plastic jeans were always a snug fit – they were ment to be – but I am pleased to say I can still get into them. And do them up. Without breathing out. Or putting the zip under undue strain.  So after supper, whilst my Wife did a little work, I quietly changed into them, and draped myself across the sofa, in anticipation of my Her reappearance.

When She came downstairs and saw me, She laughed. Not in an unkind way, but just a gentle laugh of acknowledgement.
Her : I don’t remember ever seeing those at all.
[I smiled expectantly and moved to make room for Her on the sofa. My jeans gave that characteristic squeaky creak of PVC clothing. Ah, fond memories.]
Her : They’re not quiet, are they?
Me : That’s not really the point of them.
[This was going ok-ish. Especially when, much to my pleasure, She ran a hand over my thigh.]
Her : They’re not so much tactile … more … utilitarian.
Me : Oh? [That was disappointing.]
Her : Well you can wipe them clean. [But not as disappointing as that! I gave Her a quizzical look.]
Her : You know what I mean?
Me : No, not really.
Obviously I did understand part of what She meant – you can indeed wipe them clean – but not tactile? I think She was mistaken!

What I really didn’t know was what Her subtext was. There was no indication of whether She still thought they were not sexy (obviously I would have asked had it occured to me at the time) but at least She hadn’t say so. Not that She chose to explain. She said She was quite impressed that I could still fit into them, and I had to agree, pointing out that I’ve had them over a decade. But that was about the end of the conversation.

We sat in front of random TV for a couple of hours, but nothing more was said about my plastic attire. Unusually we went to bed about the same time and She was sat reading in bed when I came out of the bathroom: I had loosely planned for this and how I would undress. My T-shirt came off first. Then I bent over to take my socks off so the black shiny material would pull tight around my arse. Next the trousers came off slowly. (This wasn’t overtly a striptease, but was all done in quite a deliberate manner.) That left me in just my package enhancing pants(UK), and I stood so She could see them at their most effective angle (yes, there are times when I am a shameless tart!!!) as I carefully folded my trousers and put them away.
Her : So you didn’t get rid of those in your recent clear out. [She knew I’d thrown out some old clothes a few weeks ago, if not about the sex toy dilemmas that had resulted.]
Me : There was no need. They still fit and they’re still in good condition.
Her : No holes in the crotch then? [The sports I have chosen to take part in have always meant I have quite chunky thighs, so my jeans always seem to wear out at the crotch first.]
Me : Not in these.
Her : Maybe there should be. [Ok, that’s a slightly cheeky comment. Was this a good sign?]
Me : That’s not quite the point of these …
… and I leant on the word these, leaving the sentence hanging, a baited hook, urging Her to pick up on it, to maybe question what their raison d’être was, or to allow me to reel the conversation into sexier waters.
But She said nothing. Nothing at all. She just went back to reading Her book. And as I got into bed next to Her, She stayed reading Her book. And eventually I rolled over and fell asleep, before She’d even put Her book down and turned the light off.

Obviously I should have asked Her if She thought I looked any sexier in fetishwear 8yrs later. Obviously I’d thought of that retort 12hrs later, when I’d had time to mull the conversation over, and about presenting my Wife with the word fetish for the first time. But I was not prepared for the silence, and had not rehearsed the end of the discussion.

I can’t help but wonder what reaction I might get if my Wife found me draped over the sofa in my rubber shirt, rubber chap-shorts (with detachable thong), and rubber driving gloves. Would they be enough to provoke a less ambivalent reaction? Maybe they too would just be notable for the ease with which they could be wiped clean. Or perhaps they would also just be not sexy.

8 Responses to “The wrong trousers”

  1. Confessions of Your Husband's Mistress Says:

    I’m impressed you were still able to slip into the plastic wear. It would have been incredibly sexy I think.

  2. Hummm do you find rubber easy to clean, I find that spunk stains can be very difficult clean off. But I find the best way to wash rubber is whilst wearing it in the shower!
    With loads of shampoo… Getting all soapy bubbles all over that shinny rubber
    Joking of course! sorry I couldn’t help myself lol
    So do we get to see a photo of you in said PVC trousers

    • I’ve never had particular trouble cleaning rubber : I usually just throw it in the sink, and use hand soap on it. Mine usually gets a spray and buff with silicone polish on the outside and a dusting with talc on the inside before it gets put away – I don’t know if that would help with cum stains.
      That said, washing it down in the shower whilst you’re wearing it does make sense. Though I might well end covering you in jizz all over again.
      Joking, of course! Sorry I couldn’t help myself LOL

      I wasn’t planning on posting pics of my PVC jeans, but I’ve not done a Members Only post for a while, so maybe they could feature.

  3. I had a wet dream about you last night… (100% true) Well we was walking in the rain together getting wet lol

  4. I stumbled across your blog via Ann St. Vincent. I’ve been reading the archives and have to say how much I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the content. Then this post with my beloved Wallis and Gromit boys. You sure know how to the ‘turb’ in disturbing. I love it anyways. I can’t wait to get caught up on your adventures. Someday I may even get to see the members only pics 😉

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