A year or two back, the Danish word hygge, was all over the media and we were all informed we should have more of it in our lives. Whilst as a discrete concept it doesn’t have a synonym in English, it is defined as a quality of cosiness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being.

The Welsh word cwtch has a similar depth to it, though it refers more literally to a hug, or a cuddle of a very particular kind. Now before you disappear up your metaphorical pussy, Dear Reader, it’s not a sexual cuddle. It’s something far more primal.

Both hygge and cwtch speak of comfort, safety, belonging, value and an emotional warmth. There is a degree of home to them.

So what the fuck has this all got to do with your humble wanker?

The day after I wore rubber to Parent’s Evening, I was sat at my desk, again dressed in latex. This time the catsuit I designed.

I’d had a flurry of pervy activity in the morning. With the house to myself I had tried and failed to  create a particular image for Sinful Sunday. Dissatisfied with the result I had to acknowledge a looming work deadline and abandon the photo-shoot.

But as I was due to be alone for longer than usual, I talc’d my catsuit and squeezed into it, before over-dressing in day clothes. [Ed: For the record, AM was wearing jeans and a T-shirt over His latex and He was working from home.]

Despite what you may imagine, Dear Reader, I don’t wear rubber very often.
It is a rare treat for me.
Rarer still that my catsuit gets an outing.
Rarest of all is an opportunity to wear rubber for more than a few short hours.
Having worn my latex chaps and shirt for most of the previous day, this meant I’d be rubbered up for most of two days.
Now, as I sat at my desk, slightly constricted by the latex outfit, I realised I felt a degree of calm I cannot remember experiencing for a very long time, and it was unequivocally due to the rubber.
This was something new.

Sure, the tightness and the envelopment were familiar.
And whilst I find the sickness, shine, smell, ritual, aesthetics and even the simple idea of rubber to be sexually arousing, this was something entirely different.

There was a warmth … a fit … a comfort … a validation? A purely emotional fillip.

There’s a reassurance, perhaps, from being held within my CB6000s, and possibly even something similar with ball stretchers, but being (near) full body, there was something just a bit more visceral about this.

As I tried to deconstruct what I was feeling, the words hygge and cwtch came to mind.
Things that I find conspicuously absent from my life at the moment. (Especially the last few days.)
There was something about the way the latex made me feet, that damned near reduced me to tears.

Is this the point when one transcends fetishism?

8 Responses to “Epiphany”

  1. Ms Ruby Wild Says:

    This is lovely. Glad that you’ve found it x

  2. Your description reminds me of babies and the calm some feel when wrapped tightly in a blanket. Could it be that the thing you experienced brought you back to that feeling of snugness one experiences in the womb, which is sometimes later reproduced by wrapping?

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