North Sea Gas (Explicit)

[KlepperGuy]

What you are about to read is........ 90% true and was part of my life back in the 1960's
Fantasies and bits gear had sown the seeds of pleasure form when I was 12 years old.
Back then it was the TV that fuelled my mind watching early things like 'Sea Hunt' or Hans and Lottie Hass, diving in wet suits, later Jacque Cousteau and the TV series 'Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea'. But PVC work wear was a major contender for giving me a life enjoyed in gear.

My experience up at the building site is true and has remained with me.

I will add, any friends back then, had showed no response to my questions about PVC and Rubber........... so back then....YES, I was the only one in the world who had these feelings........ Then I met Chris. (his real name), I have changed mine.

So I hope you enjoy.......... I wrote this over forty years ago on an old typewriter .......... then later re-typed it again on my PC.

It is the first time the story has been shared........ but as i am getting older......... i don't want it to go to waste.
In some ways, it is part of my life and fetish history.

*************************
North Sea Gas

The Watchman

The headlines in the 1960’s announced that every home in the UK would be getting North Sea Gas and so the large pipelines spread out across the UK like a spider’s web.
This meant deep trenches across farmland and in my home town the pipeline was running across fields about a mile from where I lived. The lorries and large excavating machines were carving up the land and bringing in equipment including the huge pipes that would be laid and welded together to form the pipeline, but all of this needed a work force and it was this that I was interested in, because where there were guys and mud there would be wet weather gear and wellingtons.

Hi-viz was not around then and guys wore donkey jackets often with PVC shoulders on the outside, overalls and jeans with rubber wellingtons or boots. If it rained then they would wear heavy cotton backed PVC jackets and trousers usually in black or yellow. I was not disappointed when I first ventured up to the site on my bike and sat watching from a distance, I was 18 and would be leaving college later in the summer. There were lots of men working on the machines and in the trenches all of them dirty with mud and sand streaking their clothes and boots. Welders worked on the pipes joining each section together, the bright light of the welding torch sparking away. The men were protected by heavy leather jackets and leggings and the familiar helmet and vizor covering their heads.

On wet days the men wore their waterproofs and these consisted of black PVC jackets with yellow sleeves and black pull on PVC trousers. Stencilled across the back of the jacket in yellow was the word ‘NorWest’. Most of the men wore the PVC trousers all the time to protect their clothes from the mud and usually they had the trousers over the top of their wellingtons. To me this was heaven to see the guys wearing the type of clothing. Oh yes I had discovered these pleasure at an even earlier age. I had a head full of ideas and used this to fuel my wank fantasies back home, but fantasies were fine I wanted the real thing.

At weekends I would walk closer to the site and it did not take me long to find the wooden hut where the men took there lunch breaks and left there work clothes over night. In those days security was not as tight and apart from the odd night watchmen who checked the site, the place was left open and deserted as it was away from any road and in the middle of open farmland. Weekends were the quietest, so one night went to see what I could find.

Getting across the fields to the site was no problem and finding the hut open I went in. The sides of the hut were lined with wooden benches and a long table in the middle covered with newspaper and strewn with mugs and part open sugar bags and tea. A large gas bottle stood at one end with a burner to boil water on. The walls of the hut were hung with dirty work wear, donkey jackets, coats and trousers. The PVC jackets and trousers either hung there or were scattered on the floor at the back of the benches. Under the benches were the wellies covered in yellow and grey mud and sand. In one area the welders leathers hung, these were heavy grey leather blackened by the sparks off the welding torches.

Already I was getting excited and could not resist feeling and smelling the PVC. I buried my face into the jackets and pulled a pair of trousers over my head to smell the inside taking deep breaths of the PVC mixed with the sweat of the guy who had worn them. This was what I wanted; this is what caused a fire to burn inside me. It was not just a liking for the gear, but a compulsion, an addiction to have it, to own it and above all to wear it, to become one of those workmen by wearing their clothes.

A fear of being caught overtook me and every bad scenario went through my head so I decided to come back the following weekend. Now I knew where things were I would come back prepared to take some of the clothes away.

The week passed quickly and each night I lay on my bed wanking with a pair of PVC industrial gloves I had found, dreaming of the gear and the men in the hut and what it would be like to wear it.

On the Saturday it was raining and I decided to go to the site late in the afternoon, this way it would be light enough to see where I was going and also find the things I wanted.

I pulled on and anorak and a pair of wellingtons and made my way up to the site. From a distance I could see all was quiet, there was nobody around, by the time I reached the site my boots were muddy. A final look around and I made my way to the hut. As I got nearer I could hear sounds from inside, not voices, so I decided to look inside through a window. On one of the benches towards the back of the hut was a guy in his late thirties, shit I thought my chances to get some gear had been spoilt.

As I looked in I could see he was dressed in the PVC jacket and trousers, his legs were outstretched so his feet were hidden by the table. The trousers were pulled down at the waistband so they hooked under his balls. One PVC gloved hand held them in place whilst his other wanked his cock. The sound I had heard was him pleasuring himself, beating off dressed as I wanted to be.

I could not resist watching him, feeling my own hard on grow in my jeans. Rubbing myself I released the zipper and pulled my cock out. This was too good to be true, another guy doing what I liked. I needed to see more and moved to the door, slowly opening it, I stepped inside cock in hand. The guy had not heard me and as I stood there wanking along with him. Suddenly he looked up, he jumped and stopped wanking in a state of shock. ‘What the fuck’, he shouted.
He was about to say something else but saw me standing there with my cock out of my jeans.
‘Who the fuck are you ?’, he ask.
I stood there in silence and shrugged my shoulders.
He looked at my cock, ‘Like wanking do you?’
Scared…..I nodded.
‘What about guys’, he ask.
‘Yes’ I mumbled.
‘What are you doing here ?’ he said moving towards me.
‘Walking and it was raining and I thought I would shelter in here’. I replied.
‘What’s your name, I am Chris, I am the night watchmen’, he told me.
‘Tony’, I said. ‘Do you always wear that gear, the PVC I mean?’.
‘Sometimes, depends how I feel. Do you like it?’
My hard on answered for me as I shielded it from his gaze, ‘yes and the wellingtons’.
I can’t believe I said that.
‘No probs, so do I’, he motioned me to come into the hut to where he was sitting earlier. ‘Sit there’, he pointed to the bench opposite him as he sat down.
I watched as he rubbed his cock through the trousers, gripping it every so often almost teasing me. I stroked my cock and rubbed the precum over the tip.
‘Come and kneel down here’. He told me.
I went across and knelt in front of him watching his hand stroking his cock through the PVC, I could smell the warm the PVC that I loved so much. Placing his hand on the back of my head he pulled my face into the folds of the PVC trousers, my face now pressed against his hard cock. My breathing increased and I reached down to feel myself, but he stopped me, ’Save it till later, just enjoy’.
Holding me against him, he made to get up so I pulled away slightly. He was then towering above me as I looked up into his face above the smooth shiny surface of the PVC. I looked down at his cock wrapped inside the folds of PVC and went back to rubbing him with my hand and face. He released me and lifted the bottom of the jacket and pulled it down over my head. I was now in darkness, my whole head covered in PVC and smelling warm and sweaty. I felt his hands close the jacket around my neck so that the only air I could get came from inside the jacket, the smell of the jacket and the mixture of sweat and PVC were more than I could imagine.
I was wanking his cock inside my PVC prison and could hear him moaning close to cumming.
Suddenly he gripped my head tightening me closer to him and let out a long ‘Arghhhh’, as he shot his cum inside his trousers.

I felt him relax his hold on me as he slowly came down to earth, his breathing had increased and he stood panting. ’Fucking great that was’, he moaned.

He pushed me away and sat down on the bench, his face was sweating, ‘Wow that was some cum, thanks matey’.
He relaxed for a while, with his eyes closed. I moved back to my side of the hut and sat down watching this guy who had just shot his load inside the PVC gear he wore.
My cock twitched and I wasn’t sure whether to play with it, but I just sat and stroked it.

As I sat there looking at Chris, his eyes opened and he looked at me, ‘Do you want to put some gear on’? he asked.
I nodded that I did, not believing what he had just said.
‘Get your jeans and jacket off’. he said getting up.

As I stripped out of my clothes I watched him rummage under the benches for some of the PVC clothes that had been worn and thrown out of the way. All of them were as he was wearing and streaked with mud. He threw a couple of jackets at me and then pulled out some trousers.
‘You’re about my size so they should fit, he ask, then,’ What size boots are you’?
‘10’, I replied and a pair of wellingtons were thrown towards me.
Next a pair of grubby white football socks.
‘Take your pants off as well’, I slipped out of them and tossed them onto my pile of clothes. I now stood there bollock naked in front of a guy I had never met until half and hour ago. My cock stuck out, clearly excited by what was about to happen.

‘Let me see you get that gear on’, Chris said, then took up position in front of me on the bench.
I smiled and I reached for the socks and pulled them on and pulled them up to my knees. Taking the PVC trouser, I shook them and flakes of mud fell away from the surface. The black PVC was streaked with mud and grime from being used out on the site. Pushing first one leg and then the other into them, then standing up I pulled them up feeling them rub over my cock and arse. I settled the waistband around my middle and tucked in my shirt. The PVC felt cold at first but I soon got use to it.
My hands automatically smoothed down the trousers feeling the PVC press against my legs before pushing the folds of PVC around my cock and balls.
As I went to sit down I could feel the inside of the PVC pull and tighten up across my arse. I sat on the bench watching Chris smile at me as I dressed and casually groped myself, his own hand massaging his own cock inside his PVC trousers. The inside coated with his cum that had spurted from his cock earlier.
‘Come on hurry up’, he said.
‘I’m enjoying myself’, I replied.
‘It will feel better when you are all suited up’, saying that he kicked a wellington over to me.

I pulled up the trouser leg and pushed my foot into the boot, then turned down the top of the sock over the wellington before rolling the trouser back down over the wellington. I repeated the process with the other foot and then stood up, stomping my foot into the boot.
Picking up the jacket, I again shook it and got a smell of the PVC, but also of the guy who had worn it. I took it and pushed the inside against my face breathing deeply filling my lungs with the smell. My tongue tasted the surface leaving me with a salty chemical taste in my mouth. It was something I had done before but this time it was a stranger’s sweat I tasted.

‘You kinky bugger’, Chris said, ‘but I am glad you did it, it shows how much you enjoy it’.
I pulled the jacket on feeling my hands slide down each sleeve and then pulled the jacket on to my shoulders and settled it around me.

Chris got up and pulled me towards him, then fastened up the jacket leaving the top button undone. He lifted the collar so it framed the back of my neck.
‘You look fucking horny’, and pulled me into him wrapping his arms about me before kissing me on the lips.
His warm mouth and tongued probed into me and I returned the pleasure. I could feel his warm saliva mix with my own as his tongue explored my mouth.
His arm moved down and I felt his hand groping and kneading my arse through the PVC. Pulling me into him he rubbed our hard cocks together, with two layers of PVC separating us, I could feel my cock pressing against his all the while he was kissing me.

Slowly he slid down until he was kneeling and rubbed his hands all over my PVC suited body, whilst pressing his face into the PVC jacket and licking the surface.
I eased away a little and did what he had done to me, I lifted the jacket and pulled it over his head trapping him inside the folds. My hands massaged the surface of the jacket over his head. I could hear his breathing getting heavier for he was now breathing in the essence of the PVC, the man who had worn the jacket before and now me.

After a while he pulled himself free of my hold and when he emerged, his face was red and sweat ran down his face. He stood up again and kissed me before giving me one final hug.

‘Come on, I need to check the site’, he said looking out of the window. ’Good job we have our waterproofs on it’s raining out there’.
He turned up the collar of his jacket and unbuttoned the top button so I could see his white T shirt. Looking at me he smiled and reached forward and did the same to my jacket. ‘That’s better, you look so horny dressed liked that’.
‘You ain’t bad yourself’, I replied.
He pulled on a pair of red PVC industrial gloves with knitted cuffs, then threw me a pair to put on.
‘Come on’, he opened the door and we both stepped out into the rain. I watched as he locked it.

It was not raining fast but enough to make the PVC shine even more than it did. By the time we reached where the main work was being carried out, the suits were wet and the streaks of mud were slimy.
I watched as he checked the various diggers and pieces of machinery to ensure they were locked and safe.
Looking down into the trench where the pipes were being laid, I stood at the top of a long slope leading down into the base of the trench. Suddenly I felt a shove from behind and I tumbled on to the slope and rolled. Looking up and shouting and cursing him, I watched as he took a leap and landed in the sand and mud near me. Both of us were now even dirtier than before and he rolled over to me. Climbing on top he pinned me down sitting across my middle. I tried to push him off but it was no use.
‘Enjoy that did you, matey’? he ask.
‘You sod, I wondered what was happening’, I replied looking up into his face.
Slowly he lowered his face to mine and felt his mouth meet mine. We kissed passionately, my gloved hands and arms holding and rubbing him through the PVC jacket, smearing any mud over the jacket’s surface.

A few hours later and couple of mugs of tea, I left, but agreed to go back the following Saturday. I saw him twice more and we played the same as we had on he first occasion. But he was moving to another site, so I would never see him again.

I left on the last occasion with a bag stuffed with a PVC jacket and trousers and a pair of red pvc gloves I had worn………. And a kiss from Chris.

**************

Back then there were no mobile phones, no emails or computers. That was the last time I saw Chris. I went up a couple of times but there was no one around and the hut was secured.

All I can add is, what I did with Chris and the PVC we wore has stayed with me for over 57 years. Seeds that were sown then grew into the life I have enjoyed and I have now.

The PVC I kept for years, but finally it had to be disposed of and replaced with other gear that I enjoyed.

Nowadays, I see guys in their dirty Hi-viz workwear……… and all I can say is…… well, just like Heineken beer, the sight of the guys in their gear……. reaches parts that naked guys never do.

The End

[Don Wellington]

Oh that was such a lovely story, and such a beautiful connection between two guys in their favourite gear. I often wished I had been approached by an older man in a rubber mac, when I was that age, but I guess I would have run a mile rather than enjoy it. That is life I guess, it has taken me 65 years to gain the confidence to come out with my fetish, but I am here now.

[Nylonmacs4me]

Great story.
I didn’t want to just read it and move on.
Thanks for sharing your experience.

[KlepperGuy]

Back then in the 1960's, rubber and pvc fetishes were all around us. The trouble was we didn't see them, as there were hardly any magazines and certainly no internet. Even being gay was illegal.
Thankfully society opened up, being gay became legal, although there is still a degree of homophobia in some quarters.

Back then I was into Black pvc wateroofs, and here was a guy who liked the same as me and for those few moments in time, until he moved to another site, we connected. We were lucky we were in the middle of nowhere with no one else there......... and both wanted the same thing. I was never sure if he was gay..... or just into pvc as I was......and we both shared what we liked.

One thing today, I can go walking on the same land where it all happened. Beneath my feet is the North Sea gas pipeline and it's part of Country Park.............Oh..... I wish I had a time machine to do it all over again.

[Don Wellington]

It wouldn't be the same, Klepperguy, the memory enhances things as time goes by. You are far better with the memory than going back in time and reliving the scene all over again, it might not be quite as good as you now imagine it was.

[hotwilly]

Excellent story, great memories.
I remember those quite thick black pvc jackets from when I started work in 70.