Gromet's PlazaMummification Stories

Lycra Sack

by Anon

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© Copyright 2007 - Anon - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/m; lycra; bodysuits; bodybag; cocoon; tease; denial; punish; stuck; discovery; mast; climax; true; cons; X

The following is partially a work of fiction and partly true. You can imagine where the line between truth and fiction falls, but you'll see for yourself that I am not a fiction writer and I am mostly writing from first hand experience.

It really started several years ago when I discovered that the tight feeling induced by tights, stockings, leotards, etc. could be really exciting. I've experimented with various articles and the opportunities that each presented. Full body unitards, long sleeved and footed, are probably my favorite all around exciting article, but they present problems in making any final contact, usually resulting in the need for immediate cleaning. Although somewhat unsatisfying for a close encounter to my wife, it adds "spice" to an otherwise very straight relationship for variety.

But back to my story. Through the HSX forum on CompuServe several years ago I learned of John Floyd Productions fetish lycra products. I started with a tapered sheath with a draw string and a well placed frontal zipper. When pulled on this always makes me understand what those women who put on mermaid tails must feel, but unless they have a fetish twist I don't imagine it feels as marvelous to them as it does to me (but then, how would I know). The sheath lead to some interesting escapades with my wife, these usually ending in a more intimate experience than with the unitard. For more exciting play there was always the problem with what to do with my arms. We've tried tieing behind my back by various means, but that usually results in sore shoulders following a long and exciting sessions. Those of you who have experienced these types of sessions know that a little discomfort is totally missed until the end.

Pleased with the tight lycra experiences I wanted more. John Floyd had the "Mummy Love Sack" which I ordered. The name of this item gives you a good clue as to what it is, but let me describe it in detail for those who need a little help. In addition to being a full cocoon of lycra with a back zipper from about waist level up to the top of the head, there are sleeves attached to the inside sides of the cocoon. You get into it by stepping in, placing your arms into the sleeves while your partner zips you up from behind.

Unfortunately, it was made to my measurements such that there was little stretch when I wore it. I found that I could get into the sack with the zipper to my front, and zip it up fully, stretching the hood section above my head so I could extend the zipper all the way up. Then I would wiggle my way around so that the zipper would work its way to my back. Lastly, I could pull my arms up to the top of the internal sleeves and extend each arm into their respective sleeves. My wife and I had great fun with this sack and I spent many hours in it, but I always knew that I could, with moderate effort, extricate myself from it. This was essentially a reversal of the sequence just described, but getting the arms out is a little more difficult because the sack moves with you when you try to pull your arms up, and although you don't feel terribly restrained, you can't get free without some unusual contorting.

Needing to build on my desire for the tight, helpless, encased in lycra feeling, I went to "double wrapping." I'd get into the mummy sack, followed by getting into the tapered sheath. The feeling, for those of you uninitiated, is really great. The snug feeling is something you simply must experience.

The timing of feelings is almost predictable, and my wife almost has it down perfect for driving me crazy. Let me share with you my critical time periods: I'd be interested in hearing if any of you readers have similar such intervals. Fully encased and completely cocooned, the first hour is great to simply lie still and enjoy the sensation of this great material exerting its gentle pressure on thousands of nerve endings on virtually every square inch of your body. Well placed rubbing from the outside brings a quick hardness, rapid breathing, and stretching to force your body against the hand doing the rubbing. The experience gained by my wife tells her when to stop, leaving me panting, pleading, wiggling, etc. in what seems to be the brink of orgasmic pleasure. She'll leave the room, letting me wiggle alone, pleas unheard, as I slowly come back to earth and again enjoy the compression of the lycra.

After the first hour, and for the next two, the nature of the experience changes from one of pure pleasure to one of desperate need for conclusion. Don't misunderstand the feeling, however, it's still great! During the first hour, you almost don't want to shoot your wad as the total experience is so great you have to balance the need to cum with the desire to remain encased. During hours two and three the balance shifts to needing to cum, but during the periods between the teasing you never quite get back to earth. Struggle against the lycra is futile, you can neither get loose nor free yourself adequately to relieve yourself. I suppose you could roll onto your face and thus exert enough pressure on your hard member to cum, but let me share with you a little more of the sequence.

During the third hour, I've often "snuck up" on my wife and with hardly a touch on her part she's felt the explosion within the sack. If that didn't give it away, certainly the change in breathing would! We got so that frequently after a few teases, she'd leave the house: adding to my feeling of helplessness, knowing that I'd be encased for some unknown time before she'd return to finish the job. One time, simply being in the sack and struggling I got so hard and excited that I came against the pressure of the sack. Now I was doomed - she was gone, I was done, and I wanted to get out (as you might have guessed, we're really not into bondage beyond the lycra experiences).

Unfortunately, she didn't show up for another hour, at which time I was almost recycled and ready for another round, but not really. Basically, that hour was not fun, but in retrospect was exciting in a different way. That event spawned one of our few rules: during the teasing period, I must tell her when to stop rubbing. If I come without telling her, she'll walk away, leaving me helplessly encased for an hour or so, before freeing me. It's an interesting predicament, since you're torn between wanting the relief, not wanting to be stuck (spent), and not wanting the session to end!

Any time beyond hour three seems to become a little less intense. After the fourth hour the overall experience is even less enjoyable as overall stiffness sets in from being wrapped tightly, and sometimes even the need for more base bodily functions detract from the enjoyment.

I've read of some people spending the night in their sacks, but I can't pull that off. The sensation is just too great of an overload and while I might doze I can't sleep. My whole body will twitch, jump, or I'll snap out of a snooze with such a hardon that I start wiggling and panting to no avail and slowly come back to earth. If my wife is (trying) to sleep next to me, by mid-night I'm squirming against her as hard as I can to awake her and bring the session to an end. I don't know what'd happen if she got up and went to the guest room, leaving me trapped in my own cocoon until morning.

This past summer I discovered the Mark Chester body bag. That has added the ultimate dimension to the lycra encased experience. Let me describe how you get into this one. First, you can't do it alone - no way. The material is a heavier lycra which stretches in both directions, not just one as in most items. The sack has a zipper with zips from each end, pulled towards the middle. The zipper is in the front extending from just above the ankles to just below your chin. To get into the sack, you start by putting your arms into the internal sleeves, pulling them up as high as possible. Then, your partner has to pull the hood up over the back of your head and then down the front. At this point you feel like a hooded caped superhero! Next, either lying on your back or carefully supported by your partner, you insert your feet into the lower part of the sack, stretching it to your full length. Once stretched, the zippers are pulled towards each other. The material has to be pulled together as it's zipped because Mark makes the sack small enough so that there's plenty of pressure on you once fully enclosed. The feeling of the zipper going up is one of great feeling as that's when the pressure is applied, plus it's a psychological signal of the start of an exciting experience.

We've gotten the scenario down for when to excite, what adds to the fun, etc. If my wife announces she's going shopping, to have lunch with a friend, going out to play tennis, etc. I'll frequently suggest it might be a good time for a little sack time, knowing that I'll be left helplessly encased in my favorite fabric. This has become a regular routine, particularly on Saturday morning when my wife would go to the Y for a workout class. I'd be securely zipped up, aroused, and she'd leave. About ninety minutes later she'd return and finish me off.

I need to tell those of you who haven't shared these experiences one other detail. From the outside, you indeed look like a mummy, and you can't see any part of the wearer's body. For all you know, the material is 100% opaque. But in reality, from inside, it's pretty easy to see through the material, as long as there is moderate illumination.

One Saturday morning, the wife was gone to the Y, and I heard knocking on the back door, just down the hall from the bedroom. I had gotten used to being unable to answer the phone (do you know how hard it is to lie next to a phone and not be able to pick it up), but I still found it unnerving to have someone knock on a door, knowing that I was lying there helpless and alone. Well, this Saturday the nightmare happened.

Knock, knock, knock, "Sally, are you home?" It was Kelly, my wife's good friend and our neighbor. It seemed Sally had bought us some tickets to a play for this evening through Kelly, and Kelly was just delivering them. Being Saturday morning, and seeing my car in the garage (next to open space left by Sally's departed car), Kelly decided to come into the house and drop off the tickets - an act we wouldn't think anything about since we've left them with a house key to use to watch over the house whenever we're out of town. As the door opened and I heard her voice my heart sank - what could I do? I couldn't ask her to let me loose - I couldn't get up and close the door - I couldn't roll off the bed away from the door. What What What to do?

Well, knowing that I was cooked, I thought I could feign not knowing who was there so that if she were as embarassed as I she'd leave thinking that I didn't know who was there, never say anything, and the incident would just be an unspoken accident. So, as she approached the kitchen and passed the bedroom, I knew she saw me. She stopped, and stared in my direction. "Sally, is that you?"

I moaned out. "It's about time you came back. I can't see anything in here and I really need to get loose. You've had me here long enough." There - I was really thinking. Kelly now knew that this was some kind of game, I was not in peril, and that I didn't know who was there, so she could gracefully, if not with embarassment, leave and the event would be forgotten. But I was not expecting what happened next!

Kelly approached me slowly, moving side to side, perhaps to see if I followed her, which of course I didn't. "Say something to me, don't drive me crazy like you do!" Kelly approached and started rubbing me, all over. I was shocked. I was going crazy. The lycra would stretch against my struggles, but it always seemed to win. I knew I couldn't get loose, but yet it is impossible to lie still. Now I was trapped figuratively and literally: if I acknowledged to Kelly that I knew she wasn't Sally I'd be in trouble, so I had to continue as if this were a new twist to Sally's playing with me.

Anyway, Kelly rubbed with the hand of a pro, driving me to heights and making me come down only long enough to bring me up again. Begging for completion many times, struggling against the confines of the sack, being totally helpless on the bed, she toyed with me unlike anything I'd previously experienced. Finally, I came, and I could feel a full load of warm cum squirt down my legs. Now what? Kelly rubbed me a few more times, this time sort of affectionately, and quietly slipped out the back door.

It must have only been thirty more minutes before Sally returned, but I was really anxious to get loose, having shot my wad and now into the period where the confinement had a much less erotic component to it. But I was wrong again. Sally saw the wet spot on my sack and feigned anger, "So you've gone and had your fun without me, hey. You're just going to have to stay there until I've had my fun." On no! I protested. I'd been here for almost two hours already - I wanted out. Sally had no intention of freeing me until she had her fun of getting me to bounce around in response to her rubbing.

I won't complete the story with details, but I can tell you that I was thoroughly drained by the time I got loose. I knew I couldn't tell Sally what had happened. Sally and I are faithful and straight with our lycra games as "kinky" as we get. The incident with Kelly wasn't like being unfaithful, but what was it?

Later that morning there was a knock at the door. "Can you get it honey?" Sally yelled to me from another part of the house. You guessed it - it was Kelly. I thought I'd faint, but carried it off like this was a normal visit from our neighbor, looking for Sally. It seems that Kelly didn't leave the tickets during her first visit, perhaps to avoid identifying that she had been here, so now she was dropping them off. After the usual exchanges of small talk and thanks for the tickets, she left saying, "There's really some good acting." With that possible double meaning I had no idea if she could know that I knew.

Anyway, several weeks had passed, and Sally and I enjoyed some good intimate sessions as well as more "sack time." Knowing that I enjoyed being encased while she did her "Y" routine, Sally insisted that I be secured on another Saturday. I went along with it, but this time I suggested that she lock the door while she was out just as a precaution since I couldn't really answer the door. She laughed at my concern but said sure, after all, she didn't want anyone breaking in and stealing me! It couldn't have been more than five minutes after I heard the garage door close when I heard a key going into the back door ...


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