Gannex Weekend

Stories and fantasies about rainwear.
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Gannexman
Posts: 10
Joined: April 24th, 2022, 10:55 pm
Location: London

Gannex Weekend

Post by Gannexman »

It was absolutely pouring with rain. Dad had his Mac buttoned up and I'd zipped up my anorak fully. It was almost a mile’s walk back to the car from the football ground, through the crowds of similarly clad people, leaving the stadium after our latest defeat.

So when we got back to the car we were both soaked. Dad's Gannex Mac immediately gave off a pungent smell as soon as he was in the enclosed space behind the driver’s seat. The smell actually overtook the new car smell, which was quite something as the car was only a fortnight old.

Whenever he got into a car in his wet Mac like that, my senses were heightened. This was because of a car he’d owned 10 years earlier - a Hillman Imp. The Imp had been difficult to start in the rain, and then often stalled on us again after it had been started on wet days. And when it stalled like that, on those wet days, he’d always be wearing that Gannex Mac. The same Mac that he still had - years later! Back in the day, the Hillman Imp would stall at pretty much every T junction, and wherever else he pulled up whilst the engine was warming up. And when it stalled like that on him, he’d rage at the car in a massive temper.

As a small child I’d found it very exciting. I’d be sitting in the back seat, right behind him, in his wet Mac with its pungent smell, when the car would give a little shudder and then roll to a halt on him. His raincoat sleeves would whistle and swoosh as he fumbled with the choke, gear lever and handbrake with one hand - and a big set of jingling keys in the ignition switch with the other. The whistling of the Mac, it’s stench - and the coat owner, passionate, and in a temper.

As if that were not enough, the Hillman Imp had a rear engine, and was a basic car, so as I sat on the back seat, that seat would shake slightly as the engine shuddered to a halt just behind me. Then it would shake even more as my Mac wearing Dad turned the key into the start position to re-start it. Throughout the whole cranking process the engine shook under my little legs in short trousers, and the motion tickled my balls. The whole experience gave me lovely warm feelings for which I had no name. I now know that the “warm feelings” were erections. No wonder I enjoyed it.

Because of these Hillman Imp moments, I have spent the rest of my life loving it when someone in a Mac has the misfortune to have an engine stall on them. I get an erection every time I am a passenger in a stalled vehicle with a Mackintoshed driver to this day, over 50 years later. It doesn’t happen much these days. Cars are way more reliable, and there are way fewer Macs being worn than back in history. I’ve still had some great experiences with this phenomenon across my life though, with male and female Mac wearing drivers in many different vehicles.

Back to this football match day though, in the 2 week old car, with Dad in his Mac. I was 16, and since the Imp he’d owned a fair few reliable cars. So far, this latest one looked like it was reliable too. Two weeks in I certainly hadn’t seen it stall on him yet - and with a new car, even in 1979, you wouldn’t expect problems. The car itself was a Mark 1 Vauxhall Cavalier, for any UK readers who like cars.

It started first time, rain notwithstanding, as you’d expect, and we set off for home. The football traffic was busy, but Dad knew shortcuts through side streets that enabled us to dodge most of that. I found myself wanting the car to stall on him. The stench of his raincoat was really intense, and, since I was next to him on the passenger seat, I was close to him, and could hear all the coat rumpling noises really clearly as he changed gear and used the car’s controls.

Then we came to a pedestrian crossing where a lady, also in a Mac, was about to cross the road. She was stunning. Mid twenties with blonde hair bouncing over her shoulders, and with an umbrella held at a jaunty angie. She had a brown, single breasted Mac on, buttoned up. I remember it had a furry collar, also in brown, and that her breasts appeared to be trying to escape out of the top of the coat, immediately above, and to either side of the highest button. As she crossed she smiled warmly at us, and held up one hand, in the kind of way someone might if they were apologising for something. I puzzled momentarily over why she’d done that. What was she apologising for?

As I thought all this, I silently cursed the fact that the windscreen wipers had slowed a little meaning I couldn’t see her as clearly as I’d have liked to.

Hold on a minute… That often happens in cars that have stalled. The electrics often slow a little when an engine stops. I got a massive erection out of nowhere as I also realised that the de-mister fan had slowed somewhat too. Another tell-tale sign of…. A stalled engine!

Gosh… is that what she was apologising about? The fact that she’d brought us to a halt so she could cross the road had led to Dad’s engine stalling on him? That she had realised, outside the car that the engine had stopped running, while it was not yet apparent inside the vehicle?

Surely it hadn’t? The car was new. If it had stalled Dad didn’t seem to have noticed, and now someone else (another lady in a Mac!) was crossing the road too, so we had to stay stationary. I shot a glance across the dashboard. When cars stall, 2 red lights come on within the instrument cluster. The ignition and oil warning lights. Then I realised that the Cavalier had a hooded dashboard, and it was impossible to see either warning light from the passenger seat. I couldn’t hear the engine though… Just the soft swish swish of the (now slower) wipers, the less intense de-mister fan, and the radio, churning out the day’s football reports.

Dad wasn’t raging either. If it had stalled then he didn’t know yet, and there was something about that which kept me hard. The anticipation of knowing that any minute now he’d find out. He already had the car in first gear to pull away. His left hand on the gear lever. He was holding the car still by keeping his right foot on the brake, and had the clutch pressed down with his left foot, ready to lift that one and press the accelerator instead of the brake, to pull away….

Any second now he’d surely find out. How would he react? What feverish Mac noises were about to unfold? All those thoughts fuelled my erection.

But then?

Without raging, he took his left hand off the gear lever. His raincoat sleeve swooshed as he (slowly) brought that hand and arm back to reach the handbrake. He pulled it up, slowly to secure the vehicle.

I realised that he must have finally spotted that we’d stalled. Nobody puts the handbrake on when they are about to pull away… No. He must have realised, and knew he needed to make sure the car stood still while he re-started it.

No raging though. He said nothing. And his arms and hands moved slowly.

It was all really sultry and the coat ‘s slower movements made longer noises than they normally would when re-starting a stalled engine. And that coat, doing that, made me harder still! His left arm went back to the gear lever and pulled it back into neutral. He wobbled it slowly from side to side, for a good few seconds, and while he did? His right Mac sleeve whispered its way down the right side of the steering column, until, after what seemed like an age, I heard tinkling as his fingers reached the keys in the ignition switch. Still really sultry… Still he said NOTHING! Still he was calm. Had he been in the Imp, the keys would have jingle jangled, rather than the soft tinkles that he effected here, and he would have been shouting - but there was none of that.

He’d have to crank it now. My cock was ready to explode!

But he didn’t crank it…

He released his right arm, just as slowly as he’d extended it, without turning the keys at all. They tinkled softly again as he withdrew his right arm.

He put the car back into first gear, and slowly released the handbrake, all with more raincoat noises. Then he pressed the accelerator, lifted the clutch, and drove away.

Then he spoke.

He just said this.

“For all the world I thought our engine had stopped on us there son”…….

I was so aroused. I thought my cock was going to split my underpants and burst out. We hadn’t stalled at all!

He kept driving. The coat rattled and crunched and stunk its pong, and I stayed hard. As we stopped at a junction, the rain got even heavier - literally banging on the car, and making deafening noises as it hit the metal.

Dad said “Ha”.

I thought it was a reference to the rain at first, but before I could really take it in, his right Mac sleeve squeaked as he hurriedly reached down the right hand side of the steering column.

“HA! Blasted thing has stopped this time!! It did it to me like this yesterday too. Damn it!”

The keys jingled in his big hand, and his raincoat rattled afresh as he nimbly switched the ignition off then on again so he could recrank the car. He held the key in the start position and I could just about hear the cranking noise from under the bonnet through the cacophony of the raindrops on the car. It took 3 goes to re-start. He was furious with it.

“Damn… Damn… Damn and BLAST!”

My cock was on fire. I explained all this years later to a Psychiatric Nurse who was my girlfriend, and she figured that Macs were worn by people in authority, in this case, my Father. A trenchcoat is, after all, a military garment… Something to be worn by someone that everyone and everything must respect and look up to. And here? The car - something that should be a dispassionate, inanimate object - had been anything but. The car (she said) was disrespecting the Mac wearer’s authority, by being daring enough to stall! She maintained that I was getting sexually excited by challenges to authority - and that my whole Mac thing was about getting excited by authoritarian figures - male or female. I should add that whilst I am largely heterosexual, every now and again a man can get me going if he has a Mac on. That’s what this was. Accentuated all the more by the fact I was an adolescent, in the presence of my own Father being challenged - in his authoritarian Gannex raincoat!!

When we got home, I went straight upstairs to the loo as I needed to pee badly, possibly fuelled by the constant erections I’d been getting. Every time my cock had gone down slightly in the car, it came straight back up with each new fresh Gannex smell and noise - and the whole stalling thing, including the fake stall, had aroused me more than at any point previously in my life - and I’m going hard again now just thinking about it, years later.

Normally, coats were stored in the cupboard under the stairs at home, but I took mine off, and hung it on a hanger, still dripping wet, over my wardrobe door in my bedroom.

I went downstairs for tea, and then came back to my room, ostensibly to do some homework. I shut my bedroom door and went across and felt my anorak. It was still soaking from being at the football match and from the walk back to the car. I buried my face in it. Then I took all my clothes off and put my arms back in its sleeves. It was actually wet on the inside too, and the lining felt chilly against my body. I immediately got a hard on from the wet anorak. My balls seemed to grow too, and they felt the touch of cold metal, because the tag on the undone zip (the piece you pull up once you’ve clipped it together at the bottom) was lying flat against my testicles. I pressed it into my balls a bit with my fingers - and went harder still. Then i carefully put the zip in at the bottom. Sadly there was nobody there to do that bit for me. I love having someone else fasten my anoraks… Particularly if that someone has a Mac on. It really tickles me right “there” even when the person doing it makes no actual physical contact with me. I was longing for someone to appear and fumble with my coat zip right there and then. Clearly that wasn’t going to happen, so I zipped and unzipped it myself a few times whilst also tickling my own balls in between attempts at the zip, and pressing the zip’s tag against my balls again. After a few goes at that, with my hood up as well now, I put the zip in at the bottom and pulled it up about half an inch. Then I pushed my hard cock over the top of the slightly done up zip, and gently started to masterbate - rhythmically. I’d wanked before, but at 16 was still a relative novice, and it had never occurred to me to do it with a coat on before. As I wanked, the tag on the zip moved to and fro, and bashed repeatedly against my balls. It was a big tag, well over an inch long, and each time it hit my balls it tickled and stimulated them even more.

After a few short minutes, thinking of the Gannex smells and sounds in the car, and the moment when I thought we’d stalled but we hadn’t. After thinking about the lady in the brown Mac, who had apologised for causing us to stall when we had not. After thinking about Dad raging in his rustling Mac when we DID actually stall. After all that I shot my load everywhere. It went on the bed and smacked against the wall beyond it! I’d never come like it before at that stage, and I don’t think I’ve ever come more ever since!

The next day, Sunday, saw my Mum and Dad go out. They went in her car. The weather was better. I stayed at home and was (again) ostensibly doing homework…

After they’d gone out, it crossed my mind that, with the better weather, Dad might not have been wearing his Gannex. I went and opened the cupboard under the stairs - and there it was, hanging there. I say hanging… It was so robust it could probably have stood up on its own! Mum’s Mac was there too, a double breasted beige one, with epaulettes and those little buckled belts on the cuffs. Just the sight of the two coats left me breathless.

I pulled both coats out of the cupboard. The Gannex was still a bit damp from the day before. I knew my parents would be gone a while, so with my heart beating fast, I took both coats up to my bedroom. I buried my face into the Gannex, in the same way as I had with my anorak the day before. I was immediately encapsulated in the material, and the odour, and I got a massive hard on. I chewed on a button and got harder still. Then? As I moved the Gannex about, and the rustling started in earnest, I heard jingling too. I fished deep in the slightly damp pockets. Dad’s keys were there. Car keys and house keys! They’d gone out with Mum’s keys, so he wouldn’t have needed them.

I put the Gannex on - and the smell once wearing it, was even more intense again. I took it off again and took all my clothes off before putting it back on. The coat’s weight now hung directly on my body. The lining right on my skin. I buttoned it up, and, as if to order, my erect penis popped out between two of the undone buttons.

I pulled the keys from the pocket, went downstairs, and accessed the garage from an internal door in the kitchen. The Cavalier was waiting for me. At 16 I couldn’t drive. I’d never started a car but I knew what to do, and I knew that poor clutch control would stall an engine. I rasped the keys into the ignition and marvelled at the coat rattling, the sleeves heavy against my arms. I turned the keys and started the engine, put the car into first gear and lifted the clutch slowly with my right foot on the brake. The Cavalier shuddered. And stopped on me. The ignition and oil lights lit up and I went hard under the raincoat. I fumbled for the keys and the coat whispered just like it did when Dad wore it in the car. I switched the ignition off and on again, just like Mum and Dad did, and started the engine again. Then I stalled it again with more shuddering and shaking from the car. I did this a number of times, playing with myself with my left hand, as my cock poked through a gap in the coat, whilst I cranked the engine with my right hand. Then. I left the engine stalled, red lights glowing on the dash in the gloom, and I tugged myself hard, and repeatedly. The raincoat was making rhythmical noises now as I pulsed my cock. I could have come - but managed to control myself enough to not do so, in order to avoid soiling either the car interior - or the Mac.

Then I went back inside, wearing the Gannex, and up to my bedroom. I took it off then, and experimented by wearing various layers of coat instead, using the Gannex, my Mum’s double breasted beige trenchcoat, and my own anorak. I buttoned things up, and fastened, undid and redid my own anorak. I enjoyed feeling the coldness of each coat’s lining against my skin until my body temperature warmed them. In between all the buttoning, zipping and layering, I tickled my own Thomas and tugged at it.

Eventually, whilst only wearing the buttoned up Gannex, my cock exploded everywhere, including one spurt that went onto the Gannex itself as I was jerking myself off through a gap between those two fastened buttons. I cleaned it up as well as I could afterwards, got dressed and put all the coats away.

And my oh my. Did I have a lucky escape? I’d rather lost track of time as I was enjoying myself so much, and literally, as soon as I’d clicked the door of the cupboard under the stairs shut, the front door opened and Mum and Dad came in.

And so ends chapter one of this story.

Chapter two to follow once it is typed up.
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