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A Suitable Girl

This is a re-write of the original version of 'A Suitable Girl' which I posted on Tied and True Tales many years ago. I tightened up everything, with a better ending. I hope you enjoy reading everything.

A SUITABLE GIRL

“Grandpa, if you could nominate the one most memorable experience of your life what would it be?” the young boy curiously asked.

The old man peered downwards before smiling. So many memories…

But how could he ever explain the one single most precious memory which would remain with him all his life? The best day of his life took place sixty years ago now. Yet every detail of this wondrous, unforgettable moment was still etched as clearly in his mind as if it was yesterday.

Scott treasured his memories as if they were diamonds. However, this particular memory was the most precious jewel of them all.

“It began with a dream,” he eventually said.

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

If there’s one word guaranteed to send a shiver of dread down any man’s spine, it’s impotence. ‘I can’t get it up…’ They’re simple but deadly words. It destroys egos, relationships and marriages more easily than pouring hot oil on a log fire. Our relationship was reasonably solid but… it was the last thing I needed on top of my other worries.

My small online travel goods business (which I operate through Amazon) hadn’t been going well thanks to the triple whammy of the covid, supply chain issues and high inflation sending the cost of living through the roof. Everyone was cutting overseas trips from their itineraries and holidaying closer to home. Planes were out and long car trips in, all of which was hardly conducive for business, or my level of stress.

Therefore, I hadn’t been a happy camper lately. My girlfriend, Mekaila (Kaila for short) wasn’t happy either. Normally as bright, happy, effervescent and bubbly as a bottle of spring water, Kaila’s famous megawatt smile had been conspicuously absent since our problems began (hey, bad things always happen in three’s right?).

The issue of my almost total impotence was threatening to drive us apart. Beautiful Mekaila Marasigan couldn’t understand why, with her luscious body, mouth, pussy and even her deliciously tight ass, she couldn’t generate any excitement. She took it very personally. I couldn’t wholly blame her for wondering what was wrong with me.

Mekaila is a tiny, slim sloe-eyed little sexpot with lush brown skin, perfect tits and even darker eyes drawing you in like moths to a flame. Little Kaila weighs 32 kilos soaking wet. A magnificent silky-smooth lion’s mane of glossy jet-black hair rounds off the most gorgeous package I’ve ever met.

The first couple of times, we’d shrugged off with a cheerful, ‘Oh well, not even Casanova could get it up every time!’ but when it began occurring with increasing frequency, we both knew something was seriously wrong. At first Mekaila was philosophical but it wasn’t long before her unspoken disappointment and increasing frustration began to take its toll on both of us, with all too predictable results. The greater my performance anxiety became, the more it suffered and so on.

She even asked me if I was gay more than once. Now that hurt.

‘Why don’t you go and see a doctor about it?’ she said.

So I went.

He prescribed that modern cure-it-all – Viagra.

Mekaila was thrilled, when that same evening, I not only rose to the occasion but stayed hard throughout that tempestuous evening of lovemaking when her cries of, “Baby, don’t stop!” shook the walls of our Manila city apartment. When our neighbours began banging on the walls, it was then I knew I was back in town. Perhaps though of course, it was the way she’d shrugged herself out of her dripping plastic rainwear after arriving home from work and jumping me…

The next day… well, I’d rather not go into what happened.

It was a disaster.

Mekaila’s sad face was like a dagger to my heart. I hated hurting her.

Our relationship began to free-fall from that point until, one evening, Mekaila had had enough. She walked out on me after one vicious, screaming fight when we both called each other names I won’t repeat here.

Eventually, she returned – after an evening of pure agony when I thought I’d lost her forever.

The writing was on the wall. I had to do something about the situation and quickly.

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

“Come on, we’re going away for a week,” I insisted before kissing her. “I know this beautiful resort where we can go. Let’s get away from it all for a while, as the old saying goes.”

For the first time in weeks, Mekaila smiled.

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

Our rescue mission, for that’s what our trip really was, got off to the worst possible start. I could see our relationship sinking beneath the tumultuous waves in the horrific storm which struck after leaving Manila.

The weather was unusually bad for this time of year. Apparently, some typhoon or other was bearing down on the Philippines. It was also the earliest such storm in decades. With infuriating, precise timing, the tempest began just after leaving. It rained all the way down to Batangas where we would rendezvous with the ferry. It wasn’t the kind of gentle precipitation one might in see London or Melbourne. The rain (if one could call it that) was a fully-fledged tropical downpour blurring the windscreen with a translucent sheen of water the flogging wipers couldn’t clear properly. Therefore, what should’ve been a quite scenic and pleasant, three-hour drive took something like double that time.

My gloom deepened like the tropical depression hovering over the Philippines like a dark cloud when we finally made it to the ferry terminal. It wasn’t the grey, scudding clouds – or teeming rain which sent my heart plummeting. It was the sea.

A stiff, almost gale force wind was blowing, kicking up a short, sharp – and steep chop which was battering the ferry terminal. Several boats were tied up, dancing and pirouetting around like drunken ballerinas. I’m used to being out on boats but Mekaila was no sailor and I could see her paling while she watched our transport being thrown into the side of the pier by the big waves.

The smart thing to do would have been to postpone – or even cancel – this afternoon’s sailing. Not in the Philippines. Nothing short of a Category 5 typhoon would prevent our departure. Our tickets weren’t refundable either.

If our fellow passengers were holding out hope that it might not be too bad a passage, the arrival of a big banca (a trimaran type boat featuring a narrow hull with bamboo outriggers) evaporated any remaining hope. While our horrified fellow travelers nervously gazed outside the plate-glass windows of the terminal, what should’ve been a simple disembarking operation quickly became a military style operation with the staff hustling each terrified, saturated passenger up the narrow, swaying gangplank one by one before wrestling their bags off their bobbing boat. Their discarded orange lifejackets were actually being blown sideways by the howling wind. One lifejacket fell in the water before being washed back on the concrete jetty by a particularly large wave. The roiling water caught up with the scurrying passengers and soaked their ankles.

We still had another hour or so to kill before departing. I wasn’t optimistic about our chances of leaving on time. Schedules are somewhat elastic around here, and the bad weather wasn’t helping matters. Our chances of arriving before nightfall were vanishing by the minute. I gloomily gazed around the big departure hall. It was a sea of plastic. Although we were seated under cover, it appeared that every man and his dog were dressing for the weather.

Normally the Philippines is best known for its hot, or very hot weather, especially during the dog days of summer when the equatorial sun bakes the island archipelago to a crisp. It’s also a wet country, and rainwear is an essential commodity during the rainy season when one typhoon after another strikes the islands. Most do very little damage, other than dumping torrents of rain upon the green rice paddies and coconut palms which depends on the water for survival. It’s a natural cycle which has been occurring for millennia. More powerful typhoons drop so much rain that even the wide rivers can’t cope with the immense volumes of water and very severe flooding inundates often heavily populated floodplains. The number of houses and badly built concrete roads paired with completely inadequate, trash-clogged drains, means there’s nowhere for the water to go, so the devastation is usually immense in those areas.

Unsurprisingly, umbrellas are worse than useless in this kind of weather. The rain was sheeting down in great torrents, lashing the concrete and the boiling sea to a white, hissing foam. Almost everybody was pulling on their rainwear before making a dash across the slippery windswept tarmac. Boarding would be a slow, drawn-out process today. There was no cover whatsoever out there.

Although most ferries contained totally enclosed passenger accommodation, some also offered cheap, economy-class open-deck seating. These seats were more or less, completely exposed to the elements. Guess which ones we’d picked on the booking website a week ago! It would be a rough and wet ride. Anticipating a leisurely, sunny two-hour or so cruise across the normally calm and scenic channel, Mekaila had unwisely booked a pair of seats near the stern. Well, it’d seemed like a good idea at the time.

A lucky few individuals were wearing heavy-duty PVC knee-length raincoats and one couple was even suiting up in a luscious, shiny deep yellow jacket and pants combination, but they were the exception rather than the rule. The Philippines is not a wealthy country and the vast majority of people simply don’t have the money to buy such expensive (and little used) rainwear because it was rarely cold enough to justify wearing everything in anything other than very heavy rain.

Therefore, the majority of commuters and holiday makers had to make do with colourful, translucent plastic raincoats easily available at every market in the Philippines and I smiled. Their slick, smooth rainwear glistened and coruscated under the brightly lit lamps illuminating the big hall.

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

Outside the terminal, I’d noticed half a dozen or so mostly jerry-built, ramshackable stalls selling everything travelers might require for their journey. Like every transport terminal found across the globe they sold a small range of hot snacks, the usual junk food and other snacks, coffee, cold drinks, cheap gifts and other tacky souvenirs which I knew were called “pasalubong”. It’s the very Filipino term for gifts which you are expected to give your family and relatives after returning from any kind of holiday. Because these shops, if one could call them that, were located so close to the water, their enterprising proprietors cannily guessed that rainwear would be indispensable in this weather.

As usual, their intuition was spot-on. Every one of them were doing a roaring trade today. Crowds of saturated travellers were buying everything on display. As usual, few people had the foresight to plan or pack appropriately for their travels. I almost felt sorry for them being forced to pay triple or even quadruple the price for rainwear they could have bought in the great Manila markets of Baclaran or Divisoria for peanuts. The old economic maxim that the higher the demand for a product or service is, the higher the price people will pay for it still holds true, I thought.

Rain streamed down the window while I watched yet another garishly painted jeepney disgorge its load of passengers. The wind ripped a flimsy umbrella out of its young owner’s hand and promptly blew it into the dark sky. Only a few people had thought to bring any weather protection and they promptly made their way to the hucksters waiting for them. I could hardly tear my eyes away from the brightly coloured rainwear hanging from the blue tarpaulin doubling as a roof and the flimsy walls of the shanty-like structures facing me across the wide concourse.

The shiny, smooth and very colourful plastic rainwear they were selling was a perfect antidote to the gloom of the day. Almost every hue and shade of the rainbow were visible; red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple and glass clear. They also hadn’t forgotten the kids either with the usual shiny vinyl Walt Disney or Looney tunes knock-off copyright rip-offs. I was surprised with the variety of styles that they were offering. The vast majority of their rainwear appeared to consist of the traditional long, knee-length plastic raincoats which I knew would offer adequate protection in all but the worst of storms. Every store was also offering really nice-looking plastic and heavier PVC rainsuits as well. They were even more useful for keeping rain out. The only downside was the price. These jacket /pants combinations cost a lot more. For less-well off travelers, unable to afford the more expensive styles, short hip-length jackets were available, but they would not protect the wearer’s legs. Perhaps best of all was the absolutely gorgeous branded ‘Spartan’ jackets which the more fashion-conscious younger generation were snapping up. They came in red, green and blue with three wide vertical silver bands in the middle. I really wanted to buy one of them, but it was too late to do anything about it.

Misunderstanding my interest in the activity outside, Mekaila looked up and smiled. “Are you hungry again?” she asked. “I’ve got some food in our bags, you know.”

“I’m fine,” I replied. “I’m just hoping the weather will clear but it doesn’t look like improving at all.”

A loud sigh told me how Mekaila felt about the weather. “Yeah,” she grumpily replied. “I’m not looking forwards to going on the boat at all.”

“We’ll be fine.” I took her hand and squeezed it. “It’s a big boat. We won’t sink or anything like that.”

“I hope so.” Mekaila glanced around again before returning to her phone, irritably stabbing the screen with her finger as if it might miraculously restore the Internet which died not long after the rain struck the Philippines. No Facebook, no Tik Tok. Did I tell you that TikTok is their life-support system? While Mekaila crossly attempted to restore her Internet connection, I returned to the interesting activity outside. The rain had not let up in the slightest. If anything, it was heavier than anything.

Half a dozen people or so were hurriedly putting their new rainwear on straight after paying for everything. A very attractive young woman was clambering into a pair of transparent yellow rainpants, before doing up the matching jacket. The slick, smooth vinyl instantly beaded with moisture while she hurriedly pulled the hood tight around her lovely face and carefully tying the attached drawstring with a tight double-knot beneath her pert chin. Completely unaware of my interest in her private dressing ritual, her glorious, ruby lips creased with a radiant smile as she caressed the great dome plastic protecting her hair. While I incredulously looked on, she lowered her wet hands and ran them down the folds of her rain jacket. I shook my head disbelievingly and covertly studied Mekaila who was still engrossed in the blank screen facing her.

I bit my lip guiltily and tore my attention away from the young woman outside. The last thing I wanted was for Mekaila to catch me looking at anyone else. Like most Filipinas, Mekaila is the jealous type. If she even suspected I was anything less than besotted with her, I would be in the doghouse in less time than it takes to stand up. The infamous Filipina ‘tampo’ (sulking for hours and hours) is a real thing here. I’ve been on the wrong side of this silent treatment more than once.

The loudspeakers blared into life as someone apologized for the delay before informing the waiting passengers that they hoped boarding would commence within half an hour or so, from now. Please have your boarding passes ready, bla blah. Already some of the more impatient passengers were queuing at the gate, heedless of the fact that their reserved seats would still be waiting for them, regardless who boarded first or last. It seemed that gate lice weren’t just confined to airports, after all. At least I could look around more freely inside the cavernous terminal building while we awaited our final boarding call. I was no longer bored now. God only knows, waiting is tedious enough at the best of times but watching everyone dressing for the rain was so diverting I almost forgot Mekaila seated alongside me. She was tucking into a packet of crisps and I happily gazed around while she inelegantly wolfed everything down before chasing each mouthful with a large swallow from her bottle of Coke.

A young couple (honeymooners perhaps?) were helping each other pull everything on. It was obvious that they were enjoying the process of helping each other dress for the rain. The girl was buttoning her partner’s translucent blue plastic rain jacket all the up to his neck before flipping the attached hood upwards and tying it as tightly as it would go around his face. He sat down so she could slide his rain pants up his legs. She was caressing his thighs through the soft plastic and I uncomfortably bit my lip. It was an intimacy I wished we could share together. Her smile was a sun while he tenderly returned the favour, clothing her in shiny plastic from head to ankle.

Several young children were tearing around while their weary parents looked on. They looked like Popsicles in their vividly coloured raincoats. The bright, bold primary colours of red, yellow or blue that they were wearing really stood out as they darted around the aisles, shrieking with unconcealed excitement. They were so excited that nothing else mattered, not even the bad weather.

It was fascinating to see how everyone was dressing for the rain. Although some people simply opted for umbrellas and the dubious shelter they provided, the majority of people had sensibly decided to cover up for the day in rainwear. The majority of women were wearing long, knee-length plastic raincoats while the guys almost universally preferred shorter jackets similar to the beautiful stripey ones I’d seen earlier. However, a number of more practical couples (and some families), obviously realising the necessity of total protection on a day like today, had taken care to kit themselves out in plastic from head to toe.

Suddenly, Mekaila glanced up before smiling and I squirmed in my seat. Her sly grin was a little too knowing for my liking. Surely she didn’t? Of course not. There was no way she could possibly know. Kaila wasn’t a mind reader.

“It’s almost time to go now,” she said. “I think we should put our raincoats on.”

“Ummm… yes,” I replied.

Puzzled with my somewhat unenthusiastic reply, Mekaila’s eyebrows furrowed. She looked so cute when she did that, I thought, but I dared not say anything. “Are you OK?” she asked after a horrible silence.

I hesitantly nodded, acutely conscious of my aching boner. Why did it have to show up now, of all times? Oh my God, the irony.

“Oh.” Unconvinced. A warm smile quickly followed her quizzical stare. “Well, it’s not a very nice day,” she mused. “So we should put our raincoats on now.”

“Welcome to the sunny Philippines.”

Mekaila laughed. “Yes, it’s real raincoat weather, diba?”

“Yeah…” Was she teasing me?

Mekaila smiled again before delving into our bags. “Ok, come on. Put your raincoat on.” Although our relationship was on anything but an even keel at the moment, my highly conscientious and organized partner had gone out shopping after booking our accommodation a week ago and bought everything we’d need for our short holiday in Puerto Galera. She dived in her commodious bag and handed me my shiny yellow vinyl rainsuit. The unopened pack sat heavily on my lap and I wonderingly inhaled the unique scent of brand-new plastic as if I was savouring the aroma of a Penfolds Grange. It shone beneath the light and I nervously spun the pack around in my hands. My boner was bigger than ever and it wasn’t going away. Why did it have to show up now?

I glanced sideways. Mekaila was already slipping her amazingly shiny yellow rain pants all the way up her lithe legs, stopping only to adjust the hem halfway up her stomach, just below her breasts. What? Where on Earth did she find something like this?

Noticing the look of astonishment on my face, Mekaila grinned cheekily before eagerly pulling her matching buttercup rain jacket over her shoulders. I had absolutely no idea where she’d found it, because her beautiful slicker was like no other raincoat I’d ever seen. The solid, deep buttercup yellow vinyl gleamed and sparkled like freshly minted gold. The heavy, thick vinyl was impossibly slick and smooth to the touch. Mekaila’s raincoat even came with proper buttons, wide round plastic units which actually had to be pushed through a slot opposite and I silently rejoiced. The final finishing touch was its accompanying rainhat, a great bowl-shaped sou’wester with a deep, wide brim and a pair of attached laces. It was a beautiful raincoat, a real raincoat. Why didn’t they make them like this anymore?

“Aren’t you going to be a good boy and help me put my raincoat on?” Mekaila suddenly giggled and I blushed.

“Uh… yeah, of course!” I could not help her fast enough.

“You’re a real gentleman,” Mekaila purred while I set about completing my task. My traitorous dick was so hard I thought it might explode while I helped button my girlfriend into her raincoat. I could only hope and pray that Mekaila wouldn’t see the tentpole I was pitching inside my shorts. Despite the bad weather, it wasn’t actually cold and I was wearing little more than a T-shirt and a light pair of khaki shorts. Kaila was equally lightly dressed, opting for a light cream crop-top over a very short denim skirt. I’d spotted Mekaila’s lacy panties when she sat down earlier and I’m sure it was deliberate on her part. I could feel my hands shaking while I nervously did up every button. It was the most ‘kilig’ (the word basically means to share a thrilling romantic moment with someone) experience I’d shared with Mekaila ever since the exhilarating first months of our romance. Her glorious smile was more than worth the embarrassment of doing up her shiny yellow mac. I was sure everyone was staring while I carefully pushed each button through its allotted slot. Whoever designed Mekaila’s beautiful raincoat knew a thing or two about keeping water out. They’d included a reinforced double flap which I had to button on alternate sides, which made the dressing process that much more complicated, but I didn’t mind at all.

After the longest – yet shortest – few minutes of my life that I could remember, I somehow managed to fasten everything up to the collar, enclosing Mekaila from neck to knee in shiny, rippling yellow. I pulled the attached belt as tight as it would go and buckled it for her. The beautiful deep yellow vinyl was a beacon while she happily posed for me. Her smile was back, and just for a moment or two, I forgot all about our worries. When Mekaila is happy, she’s the best company in the world. I was so pleased that Kaila was in such a good mood, that I never stopped to think about why she was so keen on putting her rainwear on today. I was just glad to be with Mekaila. If only I could hold her in my arms and… but very public displays of affection are frowned upon in this rather conservative country.

“My rainhat. Could you put it on for me?” Mekaila’s smile was a bright, beautiful thing.

Concealing my excitement was almost impossible as I picked up Mekaila’s shiny yellow sou’wester. The slick, slippery vinyl was very smooth and cool beneath my trembling fingers. The brim had been stitched with a thin yellow thread, one parallel line after another following each other all the way around in an elongated oval. Narrow in front, the brim widened until it measured something like six inches from the base of the bowl set in the middle. I liked the way they’d stitched the bowl with four vertical lines in each direction of the compass. It was so sexy, I thought.

I couldn’t meet Mekaila’s dancing eyes as I tenderly positioned my girlfriend’s sou’wester atop her mane of shiny raven hair as if it was a crown. Mekaila was a statue while I carefully adjusted everything so the wide brim would protect her exposed neck. Wordlessly, she looked upwards, subtly indicating I should tie the laces underneath her chin. I almost lost it then and there while I firmly tied Kaila’s sou’wester in place. My traitorous dick was so hard that I thought it would explode while I tugged on the laces, drawing the last knot tight so nothing would slip. Thank God Mekaila couldn’t see how much this was affecting me.

“Good boy,” Mekaila giggled. “Now I will not get wet.”

“Yeah… thanks. You’re welcome.” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the heavenly, dreamlike vision in vinyl facing me. Mekaila was positively resplendent in her gleaming yellow rainwear and I felt my breath catch as the glistening vinyl rippled with a brilliant sheen beneath the glow of the lights set high above us. The cheap, barely adequate lighting was by no means bright but Mekaila’s raincoat still shone as brightly as if we were out in the sun. Mekaila was so beautiful and I couldn’t help smiling despite my lingering embarrassment. My wicked willie wasn’t going anywhere either. Perversely, the harder I tried to ignore it, the longer it insisted on hanging around.

Why did it have to behave like this? I inwardly raged. The other day I’d been unable to get it up.

“C’mon baby, put your raincoat on now.” Mekaila’s voice was sweeter than sugar but the underlying firmness in it was unmistakable. I swallowed as she ripped the pack open, releasing a pungent aroma of brand new plastic into the atmosphere. The coming ordeal would be anything but easy.

Mekaila was already standing, shaking out my folded plastic rainwear with an ab-so-lutely intoxicating crackle of freshly minted vinyl until they hung limply in front of me. I gazed with utter disbelief and growing delight as Mekaila happily displayed my incredible one-piece rain overalls for me. I’d never seen anything remotely like this incredible outfit before. Where did she find them? Questions swirled through my mind, but I knew better than to ask.

“You want me to… wear this?” I weakly said while I incredulously studied the gleaming rainsuit. It was easy to see how thick and heavy that the pliable yellow PVC was. My rain overalls came with four attached pockets covered with flaps held in place by press-studs. An elasticized waistband sat around stomach height. Whoever came up with this creation clearly wanted it to stay put, no matter what Mother Nature threw at its wearer. I could see an attached hood dangling behind everything.

“Of course I do.” Mekaila frowned and I squirmed uncomfortably. She was certainly not going to let me out of this.

“I want you to wear them.” An edge of steel had entered her voice. “I bought them for you and you’re going to wear them whether you like it or not.”

“Yes… Mekaila,” I meekly replied. I was more confused than ever. What was going on here? One look at her face told me that discretion really was the better part of valour right now.

Impatiently, “Come on… now.”

“Ok, ok.” I nodded.

Mekaila’s beautiful smile was back now. “Here,” she said. “Put your rainsuit on now, my darling,” Mekaila cooed.

Ignoring the conflagration raging within the confines of my shorts was excruciatingly difficult while I pulled the impossibly smooth PVC pants all the way up my legs. The stiff, yet soft and pliable vinyl was stunningly smooth against my tingling skin. Aware of her fascinated gaze, I hurriedly stood so I could pull everything past my hips. Mekaila stepped forward and helped me easy my arms down each sleeve. The tight elasticized cuffs gripped my wrists as she gently turned me around until I was facing her.

I was harder than ever while she pulled the zipper all the way up to the neck.

“I’m glad to see you’re getting into the holiday mood already,” Mekaila dryly commented while she continued doing up everything. She gave my genitals a very quick squeeze and I groaned with an equal mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. Mekaila’s hand lingered a moment longer before retreating as quickly as it’d come. Pointedly, “Save some for me tonight please.”

All I could do was mutely nod. I had no idea what to say.

Mekaila giggled loudly. “Good boy.” Her eyes were unusually bright and I nervously shifted position. I couldn’t help receiving an awfully uncomfortable feeling that Mekaila knew more than she was letting on. I sighed inwardly. Mekaila’s always telling me that I overthink everything and she’s probably right too.

Mekaila’s grin was all too knowing as she set about fastening me into my rainwear with each press stud she pushed into place, covering the zipper along the way.

My dick pulsated with excitement while the magnificent girl in the gleaming shiny yellow slicker and sou’wester casually continued preparing me for the elements outside. Mekaila’s elfin face peeked out cheekily below the brim of her sou’wester while she snapped each press stud shut. I just could not believe this was happening while she gently drew the hood closed around my face. Her eyes never left mine as she drew the laces as tight as they would go with a few deft twists of her dancing fingers. I was now sealed inside a cocoon of smooth, rippling shinier than shiny yellow plastic from head to ankles.

“You’re not properly dressed for the rain,” Mekaila suddenly announced.

“Huh?” What do you mean?” I expostulated. “You’ve just kitted me out for a Category 5 typhoon.”

Mekaila just smiled before handing me a very large bag which I hadn’t really noticed earlier. “Here,” she said. “They’re just for you.”

“Oh…!” I exclaimed as a gleaming yellow pair of rainboots appeared in front of my eyes as I slowly opened the rather large box inside. “Oh my God…”

“Put them on,” Mekaila ordered. “I want to see you properly dressed for the rain.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I facetiously replied. I hear and obey.”

‘What’s going on here?’ I puzzled whilst pulling them on. This was so far out that it didn’t compute. Curiouser and curiouser, I silently mused while incredulously watched Mekaila slipping an absolutely identical pair of shiny yellow rainboots on, neatly tucking the hem of her rainpants inside them.

Mekaila’s smile was brighter than a supernova as she knelt on the floor before carefully pulling each leg up and easing the elasticated ends over my boots. “Now you will not get wet,” she said.

“I don’t think so,” I agreed. I was painfully aware of the amused glances from some several people who’d observed our very public dressing show. “I think neither of us will get wet now.”

“Oh baby, you look so guapo,” Mekaila happily murmured before pulling me close for a quick cuddle. I sighed with pleasure before reciprocating the gesture with interest. Her beautiful brown features glowed with happiness as she hugged me. The cool slick vinyl of Mekaila’s rainwear was impossibly smooth to the touch and my fingers glided down her back without meeting any resistance.

“Dearest darling,” I murmured.

“Your titi is big so much already,” Mekaila beamed. Her eyes bored into mine. “Remember what I said, ok? Baby, I want you to fuck my brains out tonight…”

“Oh yessss…” I breathed, hoping that I wouldn’t disappoint. Oh yes, I was stimulated all right. Just not in the way Mekaila thought.

Suddenly a harsh, disembodied electronic voice announced that our ferry was boarding.

“Come on,” Mekaila urged. “Let’s go.”

***

The wind and rain struck us as soon as we left the shelter of the terminal, whipping Mekaila’s raincoat up past her hips. “Wowwww..!” Mekaila gasped. “I had no idea it was that bad out here.”

“That storm is getting worse, I think,” I quietly observed. The rain was beating a very rapid military tattoo on our rainwear. Water splashed and bounced everywhere. It was so heavy that we could barely see our moored transport just fifty metres away from us. Thank God Mekaila had the foresight to equip us for the bad weather, I thought as rain ineffectually pummeled our slick, smooth rainwear. At least it wasn’t really cold though. That’s one advantage of living in the tropics.

Little scares me nowadays but boarding our sleek ‘fast’ ferry was actually quite petrifying. Although our hundred or so foot long vessel was much bigger than the largest of bamboo bancas, it was lurching about so savagely that it took forever for everybody to board before departing a couple of hours later than expected. The experienced crew had their hands full assisting the terrified passengers and their luggage on board. Miraculously, nobody fell overboard. It would have been almost impossible to rescue them. Already some of the passengers were yanking the orange lifejackets out of their storage pockets beneath the seats and putting them on. One young woman pulled the attached crotchstrap so tight I thought it would split her in half.

Clearly nervous, Mekaila pulled a pair of bright orange PVC lifejackets from a nearby locker. “We wear,” she said, whilst tearing the thin paper packaging apart. Our lifejackets were clearly brand new and I couldn’t resist a smile while I caressed the slick, smooth bright orange PVC coating with my fingers. Mekaila raised her eyebrows thoughtfully, but she didn’t say anything although her lips creased in a slight smile. Her eyes crinkled with amusement and I squirmed uncomfortably. She’s a pretty good mind reader. The front section was surprisingly thick and bulky, although one side was somewhat thinner than the other. The back panel was much narrower. It was maybe only an inch thick or so. I knew that this was meant to aid in rolling an unconscious wearer over in the event real disaster struck. It fastened in front with a heavy-duty zipper and a pair of heavy-duty straps buckling in front added that much more security. However, it was the pair of straps dangling downwards from the back which I was much more interested in. I knew exactly where they would go and I grinned again before taking Mekaila’s lifejacket from her. She had no idea what the purpose of those strategically placed straps were.

“Here, let me help you put it on.”

“Thanks,” Mekaila said while she nervously watched the growing queue of passengers waiting to board in the driving rain.

She held her arms out so I could slip the lifejacket over her shoulders. After seating it over her shoulders, I zipped up everything before buckling each strap which I pulled tight. Now for the fun bit. Mekaila was a statue as I lent downwards before retrieving each strap and passing them between her legs. “You won’t have to worry about drowning now,” I facetiously commented while I carefully attached each end of the side-release buckles to the other.

“What do you mean?” Mekaila curiously asked before peering downwards. “Isn’t that a bit loose?” she asked while I adjusted everything.

I grinned, and pulled the first and second crotchstrap tight in quick succession.

“Ooh!” Mekaila gasped as each strap dramatically tightened, all but cleaving her crotch in half along the way. “That’s too tight,” she complained.

“Nonsense,” I replied and gave each strap another couple of tugs or so. “My darling,” I smiled, “It needs to be tight so your lifejacket will not come off if the worst does happen.”

“Yeah…” Mekaila reluctantly agreed.

“You wanted to wear it,” I pointed out. “Now you are.”

Mekaila just smiled. “Your turn now.”

As usual, Mekaila didn’t disappoint, pulling and tugging on every strap so hard that I thought I’d been welded inside my lifejacket by the time she was done.

Smirking, “I think already you won’t drown either.”

I guess not.” I had to agree with her there. The combination of my slick smooth rainwear and shiny orange lifejacket was so overwhelming that I almost creamed myself then and there.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Mekaila caressed the bulge in my crotch (which ironically the crotchstraps she’d pulled so tight only served to highlight my excitement. Somewhat caustically, “Are you enjoying your vacay so far?”

“Oh yes…” I carefully nodded. “Very much.”

“Of course you are,” Mekaila giggled. “I know you so well.”

“Uhmmm…” I hesitantly replied. Mekaila was behaving very strangely today, and I didn’t wholly like the change in my partner.

She just giggled before commenting, “You know, I kinda like wearing my lifejacket. I like the way it hugs me all over. I feel very safe in it.”

Relieved that I was on safer ground at last,” I replied, “Yeah. Same here.”

The boat was beginning to fill up now, and Mekaila retrieved our tickets from the pocket of her raincoat. “Let’s find our seats and put our bags away.”

“Oh no…” we groaned in unison, as a crew member showed us to our seats. Her glass-clear plastic raincoat flapped noisily in the gusty wind while she politely indicated where we were to sit. I noticed that she’d also opted for matching clear plastic rainpants as well.

Any other day, we would have been thrilled with our normally-choice bench seats only a couple of rows back from the stern. Our seats were also on the far end of the row, with only a few centimetres or so of rusty steel separating us from the surging ocean. The deck was slick and wet with rainwater and no small amount of spray. The heaving waves were crashing into the broad stern of the ferry and spray rose lazily on the wind before being driven onto the top deck. At least the coating was non-slip. Thank God for very small mercies.

I’d really hoped that we would be seated undercover today but we were out of luck. Our boat was so full that we had no option except accept our assigned seats. The crew had deployed the heavy plastic ‘clears’ to protect the exposed passengers from the wind and rain but the dirty, salt encrusted curtains only added to the claustrophobic atmosphere on board.

Guessing that we might be in for a very wet run, nobody made any move to take off their glistening, dripping rainwear. The top deck was (if you will excuse the pun) a sea of shiny, rippling plastic and glossy PVC rainwear.

The idling diesels, which had clearly seen better days, burst into life with a loud roar and stinking black oily smoke, some of which penetrated the gap between the curtains and partially exposed railings. Already some of our fellow passengers were looking somewhat green around the gills. We hadn’t even left Batangas port yet.

Eventually, the last passengers filed on board and the dockhands wasted no time casting off the mooring lines.

In order to leave, the captain had to maneuver our vessel so he could take it out to sea. Smoke filled the aft deck as the diesels roared again. A short, steep chop was buffeting the stern and the unseen helmsman increased the revs. Inch by agonizing inch, they brought the ferry around until it was lying broadside to the waves. It rolled, and several passengers began reaching for their sick bags, which the crew had handed out to everyone earlier.

Mekaila swore as the bow struck a huge wave upon reaching the breakwater. The little ferry shuddered from the impact and plowed on. Almost immediately the boat began to yo-yo from one side to another in the vertiginous waves attacking us from seemingly every angle. We were more or less broadside to the howling, gusting wind and waves and the corkscrewing rapidly became worse and worse. It was increasingly apparent that our slabby transport had been constructed with maximizing the number of passengers aboard, rather than its seakeeping qualities.

The journey across the Verde Island Passage was a nightmare.

Seated right up back, every massive bump was instantly transmitted to our bilious green PVC covered coach seats while rain and spray whipped across everyone, smearing everything with a thin layer of salt. One of the worn ropes lashing the curtain nearest us, broke in half and it began to flap up and down with every gust of wind. Of course, the wind eagerly exploited the sudden weakness and tore another section away, partially exposing everyone in the back to the elements.

I was very glad that Mekaila had made me wear my embarrassing shiny yellow rain overalls. That wind had teeth. There was nothing in the least warm or tropical about the growing gale. After leaving Batangas Bay, the wind gathered strength and really pummeled our vessel. The Verde Island Passage is more or less totally exposed to the South China Sea, and the big waves had nothing to impede them during their passage here. Already wave heights were approaching ten and even fifteen feet high. I cursed as the ferry rose across one enormous roller, only to reveal an endless conga line of giant grey swells. It was hard to decide which was darker, the uniformly low cloud or the angry waves. The shrieking wind was ripping the top off the waves. The nearby islands were completely invisible in the rain and spray. We might as well have been in the middle of the ocean and I tried not to think about what would happen if our transport foundered for any reason.

Staying dry was the least of our problems though. Mekaila wasn’t a good sailor and she couldn’t face the giant spumous waves, or the flying spray so I had to shelter her as best as I could. Half the passengers were throwing up into their seasick bags by now. Not everyone’s aim was accurate though and the pungent miasma gradually began to fill the partially enclosed aft deck, despite the wind whipping through it.

With Mekaila leaning forwards into her bag, our trip couldn’t have gotten off to a worse start.

She was a quivering green-faced wreck by the time we arrived in Mindoro.

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

Gradually, the horrible corkscrewing motion began to lessen once we reached the shelter of Medio Island before sailing serenely through the narrow channel separating it from the small peninsula which is home to Sabang and the dozens of resorts calling it home. Although it was still raining heavily, the sea was thankfully calm. Only the pockmarked dimples of billions of raindrops disturbed the stillness of the water.

As resilient as ever, it wasn’t long before Mekaila quickly regained her composure. The heavenly scenery was so spectacular that it simply took our breath away. Towering green hills debouched into any number of golden beaches guarded by numerous rocky promontories. The sight was so beautiful that Mekaila completely forgot about how sick she’d been along the way.

Miraculously, the storm more or less began to dissipate by the time we edged into the small port town of Puerto Galera itself. Here, the majority of passengers would catch one of the small pump boats or jeepneys taking visitors to the many dozens of resorts, big and small, dotted around the convoluted peninsula and islands sprouting from the top tip of Mindoro. Our resort was sending a boat to pick us up before transporting us in the opposite direction to our home of the next week or so, Coco Beach Island Resort.

Mindoro is famous for its caves, hiking, pristine coral reefs and diving. Although the majority of people visit Puerto Galera to enjoy the natural beauty of the region, many of them visit Sabang solely for the nightlife that it offers. Numerous garish girlie bars happily cater for the single element in town.

By the time we tied up to the concrete jetty masquerading as a seaport, the rain had more or less stopped. Incredibly, the sun was shyly peeking through the dissipating clouds by the time we set foot on the steaming concrete. Already, the rainwater was evaporating under the heat of the tropical sun.

During the confusion and hullabaloo of disembarkation, Mekaila and I completely forgot that we were still wearing our tightly-secured lifejackets after lugging our bags to the tender waiting for us. It wasn’t until we were chugging down the wide, sheltered embayment that we realized we hadn’t handed our safety apparel back to the ferry people.

Only a few fluffy cumulus clouds pockmarked the cerulean sky, and I decided that it was time to take off my rainsuit. By now, everyone else (some ten passengers in all) had dispensed with their rainwear. We were the only ones still dressed for a typhoon.

“Mekaila, I just realized that we forgot to give our lifejackets back to the boat,” I sighed.

“Shit… you’re right,” Mekaila giggled. “So, what we do na?”

I glanced backwards. Our transport was already several hundred metres astern. It was too late to do anything now.

“I don’t know,” I replied while I began undoing everything. “Just hand them back later, I guess.”

“Yeah, Ok…” Mekaila said. “Hey, what you’re doing?”

“What do you think?” I chuckled. “It’s not raining anymore, so I’m going to take my rainsuit off.”

“No.” Mekaila shook her head firmly. “Raincoat stay. Lifejacket stay. You not allow to take off. OK?”

“Yeah… Ok, Mekaila.” I gazed into her earnest face. What had come over her? Mekaila was not normally like this. It was rare to see her this assertive or bossy. Normally, like the majority of Filipinas I’ve met, they’re quite submissive. “I hear and obey.”

“Good,” Mekaila giggled. “You cannot take raincoat or lifejacket off until I say so.”

“It’s getting hot,” I pointed out.

Mekaila pointedly shook her head. No. “What did I just say? No, no and no.”

Does Mekaila know? I wondered while she gazed into my eyes. Better to let sleeping dogs lie, I thought before replying. “I hear you loud and clear.”

“Good.” Mekaila smiled brilliantly before squeezing my hand hard. “Are you enjoying so much?”

“Is the Pope a Catholic?” I chuckled.

“Mmmm…” Mekaila sighed softly. “Salamat for take me here. I’m so happy.”

“Walang anuman.” You’re welcome.

“I love you, my darling…” Mekaila whispered.

“I love you too,” I softly replied while studying the girl whom I absolutely adored. Despite the growing heat and humidity, Mekaila hadn’t bothered undo anything. She’d even had left her gleaming yellow rainhat firmly tied in place atop her head. Her unusually happy face peered out beneath the wide brim of her sou’wester while she curiously gazed around the idyllic hills surrounding us. Our small transport was just entering the emerald green channel separating Medio Island on our left from the hilly promontory on the right. If anything, the lushly forested hills were even greener here. The deep water of the channel was as still as it’d been choppy during the trip here. Awed with the beauty of the bay and channels, Mekaila and I silently studied our home of the week to come.

The tide was low, and I could see slimy, oyster-encrusted rocks peeking out of the water just below the boats and other small marine craft tied up to conveniently positioned palm trees. The shoreline was punctuated with the concrete, tin or wood shacks of local fishermen and boat operators while, incredibly, a tiny elementary school straddled one sandy promontory. Its light-yellow walls and shuttered windows were shaded by swaying coconut-laden palm trees. It was just about the most beautiful place of learning I’d ever seen and I envied the lucky students learning the three “R’s” here. The nearest classrooms were only metres away from lapping water. How could anyone not enjoy the unique commute across the bay to join their classmates for the day? It must have been recess because any number of young children were playing on the grass or the beach. They spotted us passing them and waved an enthusiastic welcome.

The small, brightly painted outrigger boats of the lucky people who lived here were mostly all drawn up above the highwater mark. The smallest of these craft were a mere eight or so feet long from prow to stern, and I knew these would mainly be used for fishing or personal family transport. Other boats were anchored in deeper water and they ranged in length from twenty to fifty or so feet long. Most of them appeared to be employed by dive resorts or used as shuttles. Dozens of sailing yachts, flying the national flags of their owners, rode at anchor near the township of Puerto Galera. The biggest boats were over a hundred feet long. Although I’m no sailor, I knew that these superyachts would be worth millions. A long, sleek anthracite grey Wallypower boat was little more than a hull with a towering mast atop it. The amazing yacht was virtually all deck with only a minimally short coach house interrupting the lines of the boat. Nice, but not my thing.

Perhaps getting away from it all was just what the doctor ordered. I could feel our recent problems slipping away to the back of my mind while I covertly studied my raincoated partner. Catching my gaze, Mekaila smiled and squeezed my hand again before wrapping her warm arm around my shoulders and leaning her head against me. I’d undone the hood of my rainwear, but Mekaila was still encased in gleaming yellow vinyl from head to toe. I liked the cool smoothness of her sou’wester against my cheek a lot.

There was still hope. Maybe. As they say in the Philippines, “Pwede”. It’s possible

Mekaila’s hand never left mine while our boat chugged down the narrow, calm channel. The water must be quite deep here because I couldn’t see the bottom. I couldn’t believe that this was the same ocean which had just tossed a hundred-foot ferry around as if it was a Ping-Pong ball.

After a relaxing cruise through the still water of Verde Islands Passage, we rounded a rocky promontory and we both gasped as one upon spotting Coco Beach, our home of the next week. Nestling amidst verdant jungle, its traditionally designed nipa huts and other buildings shyly peeked outwards, as if afraid to reveal themselves, between towering palms, immense mango trees and dozens of other exotic jungle flora we couldn’t identify. Red, orange and yellow hibiscus provided bright splashes of colour here and there.

I was torn between studying the incredible coral reef hiding beneath the keel of our banca or our new home. A large green turtle glided beneath our boat amidst a great deal of screaming and yelling when our companions spotted it too. Mekaila’s eyes met mine and we both smiled. Well. The reef could wait for now. I curiously studied the nipa huts where we would be staying. We’d booked the super-deluxe suites and I was sure they were the ones perched half way up the short hill. The weathered brown thatched roofs were somewhat hard to see amidst the rainforest and I just couldn’t believe how lovely this place was, as our banca glided into to shore.

Mekaila’s grip was tighter than ever as we approached the wide, sandy beach.

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

There’s nothing more disappointing than arriving at a beautiful (and expensive) beach resort and discovering, too late, that the substance doesn’t go anywhere close to matching the reality. That clearly wasn’t going to happen today though. Mekaila and I instinctively realised that we would be happy here from the moment we set foot on the beach. I don’t know how we knew. One just knows these things. As if sanctifying our stay, the setting sun struck Mekaila’s raincoat, instantly transforming everything to gleaming, shiny gold. We were the only ones still clad in our rainwear and lifejackets, but no one seemed to mind, much less care. On holiday, almost anything goes in the Philippines.

Billions of tiny bleached coral shards, remnants of the reefs surrounding Puerto Galera, crunched beneath our feet while we happily gazed around. What Coco Beach lacked in the sophisticated grandeur of much more expensive resorts, it more than made up for with its sheer friendliness – and romance. Everything had been sourced locally before being built onsite. Most of the main buildings and guest nipa bungalows had all been constructed out of bamboo. Although this style of architecture sounds primitive, it’s actually anything but. There was nothing in the least uncomfortable or unsophisticated about Coco Beach, especially our rooms.

After checking in (not one of the front desk staff batted an eyelid at our slightly outlandish apparel) and admiring the large and beautiful freeform swimming pool, we were shown to our suite. Mekaila and I were instantly blown away by our accommodation. It was the most beautiful, romantic bungalow we’d ever seen. Melded out of stone, wood, bamboo, rattan furniture, everything merged together in an amazingly, natural, harmonious whole. Giant five-inch diameter bamboo poles helped support the heavily thatched roof while the woven walls shimmered beneath the glow of the lamps illuminating our room. A wide balcony, complete with two easy chairs, a table and a hammock overlooked a garden ablaze with a billion bright, beautiful tropical blooms. The ocean was bluer than ever between the tall trees partially obscuring the view.

It was a romantic dream.

Because it was already early evening, our bungalow was shrouded in shade, but the thoughtful staff had already switched the lamps on in anticipation of our arrival. The lights bathed the thatched walls and bamboo furniture in an effulgent golden glow. Green pot plants softened every corner. The thin, wide light brown bamboo strips nailed to the floor were stunningly cool and smooth to the touch of my feet. A giant white clamshell did duty as a basin in the adjacent bathroom.

But most of all, it was the stunning bedroom, dominated by a massive, dark bamboo bed partially hidden within a billowing white cloud, which took our breath away.

If there was ever a room made for loving, this was it.

The moment the door closed behind us, Mekaila floated into my arms with an intoxicating swish and rustle of plastic. Somehow, every happened so quickly, I can’t really remember what we said or did next. She wrapped her arms around my neck and clung to me like a limpet whilst showering kisses upon my lips and cheeks. I couldn’t believe this was happening while we held each other.

Our eyes met before we flew into each other’s arms as one and collapsing in a happy, laughing, untidy heap on the bed, our lifejackets and rain clothes scattered all around us like confetti, Mekaila’s raincoat somehow ending up on the bedside table where I could see its gleaming folds.

The perfection of our lovemaking was something I just can’t articulate in words. Never before we’d come as quickly or simultaneously, so great was our mutual need for each other. Mekaila almost lifted the roof with her cries. “Please fuck me now! Oh, ohhh, I want you so much baby! Don’t stop! Please don’t stopppp!”

Her beautiful Filipino features were bright with joy as we changed for dinner. It was the first time I’d heard her singing in the shower. My heart was light while we strolled down the winding path leading to the main cluster of buildings.

Perhaps all our problems were over.

Pwede.

(A Suitable Girl - continued)

We ate dinner alfresco, separated from the inviting floodlit pool by a matter of inches. Our (late) lunch was superb. Kaila and I enjoyed whole chilli prawns, sweet and sour lapu-lapu (like coral trout) washed down with a superb white wine from Australia. Our beautiful dinner, coupled with Mekaila’s brilliant smile and company, ensured it was a meal that neither of us would soon forget.

After eating, we all but ran back to our room.

“My darling mahal, I love you so very, very, very much!” Kaila sang before wrapping her arms around my chest and neck.

Her words were balm to my soul. Life honestly doesn’t get any better than this, a lovely girl you’re crazy about in your arms while enjoying a romantic break away from everything. No TV. No radio. No internet. Most of all… no worries. For once I didn’t have to worry about dishonest, lying politicians, terrorism or anything else… For now. The cares and pressures of a largely hostile world had completely vanished while we continued kissing and cuddling.

Best of all… my penis was hard again…

“Ooohh… your titi is big,” Mekaila bubbled as her hand closed around the crotch of my pants. “Baby, I’m horny so much,” she pleadingly giggled before all but ripping off my clothes. Hers followed in equally short order. “Gusto kong makipaktalik kayo!”

Literally meaning, ‘I want you to fuck my brains out!’ I was more than willing to oblige – save for my dick, which obstinately shrank the moment Mekaila’s lips closed around mine.

Her breasts were very warm against my chest and I inwardly groaned as she disbelievingly gazed downward, her eyes clouding over with disappointment.

“Why?” Mekaila’s voice was desperately sad while she gently stroked my limp willy, willing it to arise again.

It was a question for which I had no answer. Well, not quite.

I have this weird sexual fetish for plastic rainwear, but I had no idea how to tell Mekaila what really floats my boat. In my experience, most girls don’t want to make love with a raincoat… if you know what I mean. Mekaila would probably freak out if she knew that I wear plastic pants every day back home.

But I digress. In short, Mekaila had no idea that my ‘thing’ for plastic pants and rainwear was chiefly responsible for my apparent impotence and I miserably closed my eyes before shaking my head.

I couldn’t believe that it was happening again.

But it was.

Honestly, there’s nothing worse – or embarrassing than softening half way through another virtuoso performance in bed with a lovely, slim laughing girl showering kisses all over my face and lips, between rotating her hips, thrusting upwards so I could penetrate her as deeply as possible. Or failing to get it up altogether…

That’s the crux of the problem. I had no idea how to tell Mekaila what I really wanted… I mercilessly flagellated myself while she stared with disbelieving disappointment into my face. I’d wimped out big time I really should have told her much earlier.

What I really wanted was to see Mekaila clothed from head to toe in clinging plastic while we… More than once, I’d been reduced to closing my eyes and desperately fantasizing about Mekaila wearing her beautiful shiny yellow slicker while we did “it”.

She’s wearing her yellow raincoat, the crinkly hood tightly tied around her face while we… I need hardly say that my lonely fantasies were something I felt really bad about. There I was, in bed with the kind of lovely, heavenly girl half the male population of this world would give a right arm and left leg to sleep with, relying on this kind of mental stimulation not only so I could get it up - but more importantly, remain hard for as long as it took to help bring Mekaila to climax.

Mekaila would’ve been stunned – and quite horrified if she knew the thoughts circulating through my brain while we romped together in bed.

I had no way of articulating anything.

Mekaila just wouldn’t understand. Girls want hugs, cuddles and kisses, not raincoats or rubber.

On the other hand… I bit my lip. Because I didn’t want to risk marrying someone who might never accept my special… interests (as selfish as that sounds), with all the future angst this potentially entailed, I’d subtly conned Mekaila into satisfying me whilst wearing her raincoat. One rainy afternoon a couple of weeks ago after arriving home, I grabbed Mekaila before all but tearing her skirt and panties off before making love on the couch while she was still wearing her raincoat – and much to my delight, she’d eagerly gone along with everything.

I knew it would be a while before I got over the delicious sight of the kneeling girl in her shiny raincoat and sou’wester, still glistening with moisture, going down on me before making love. It was as stunning as it was stimulating - and much to her shocked surprise, I’d exploded like Krakatoa deep within her mouth.

Mekaila swallowed as well. Oh my.

Mmm… I definitely had to lose. As uninhibited as she was loving, Mekaila was obviously more than receptive to anything new.

I had the chance of killing two major birds with one stone, as the old saying goes.

Putting our plastic rainwear on together and going to bed with someone, any girl, never mind the one very special woman I loved before kissing and cuddling all night in our raincoats was an enduring fantasy I’d enjoyed since learning that plastic or vinyl did things for my willy that nothing else quite achieved. And of course it was the one stimulus I needed to banish my seeming impotence.

But… would Mekaila agree? Maybe. Knowing her, I had a sneaking suspicion she might like the idea.

I had nothing to lose, did I?

I plunged ahead. “Put your raincoat on, then we’ll…”

“Ha?” Mekaila’s eyebrows rose. She was clearly quite surprised and I nervously swallowed. Suddenly a loud giggle erupted out of her throat.

“Huh?”

“You really like, ha?”

“Um… yeah.”

Mekaila’s smile was dazzling. “Your titi was so big.” Chuckling, “I remember.”

Acutely embarrassed, I muttered, “Er…”

“I know. I know what you like.” Her smile was so knowing that I squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze. “You really love wearing plastic raincoat, diba?”

“Well…” She’d sussed me out in an instant.

Softly, “I have a confession to make.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Mekaila giggled before kissing me again.

“You’re not the only one who loves wearing plastic.”

“What?” I was so surprised that I was momentarily lost for words. My lips would only move; no words came out of them.

“You know, my darling…” Mekaila quietly mused. “I like wearing plastic raincoat too. I like way it looks, feels.”

She edged closer before wrapping her arms around me. “Surprised much?”

“Oo very,” I agreed. “But… if you knew then… why this secrecy?”

“Oh, I had my suspicions,” Mekaila laughed. “I notice already you always want me to wear raincoat even if not really wet.”

I felt my face redden. Mekaila had me over a barrel. What else did she know?

“Oh, you’re so cute when you blush.” Mekaila laughed loudly. “Then you want me to make love when I come home from the local palengke. I was wearing raincoat because it was wet, and you were so big.”

“Yeahhh… I remember.” Embarrassed.

“Two weeks ago, I was tidying up and your suitcase fell out of the closet when I bumped it with the broom.” Mekaila’s eyes bored into mine as she continued speaking.

I involuntarily closed my eyes. Oh no.

“Oh yes.” Mekaila’s smile was so wide that I thought her face might split in half any moment. “Guess what I found?”

“I wouldn’t have a clue.” I was so embarrassed that I wished the earth would open up and swallow me.

“Oh my goodness… I had no idea!” Mekaila exclaimed dramatically. Happily, “I was so shocked.”

I bet you were, I sourly thought.

Conspiratorially, “I tried them on. They fitted perfectly. Were they for me? Hmmm.”

“Um…”

Mekaila giggled. “Your plastic pantes felt very nice. I liked wearing them. They make me feel malibog so much.”

I swallowed nervously. What could I say?

Reproachfully, “But why you never tell me?”

I sighed inwardly. “I don’t know what to say. I… I was scared that you would think that I’m really weird and leave me. Plastic is not exactly what you’d call a mainstream fetish. The majority of people don’t understand why I love wearing plastic pants and raincoats so much.”

Mekaila nodded thoughtfully. “Why you like already plastic so much?”

“Good question. I don’t know either,” I honestly replied. “I ... I love the way plastic looks and feels to my body. It’s so slippery and smooth. It feels so amazing especially once I get a bit sweaty.” I bit my lip. “And well… I have this thing for pretty girls wearing plastic pants and raincoats.”

“I noticed that.” Mekaila’s great cheesy grin was brighter than the sun.

“Yeah…” I awkwardly replied.

“So who did you buy those cute plastic pants and that gorgeous playsuit for?” Mekaila probed.

“Wel… um… To be honest, I bought them for you before travelling here to meet you,” I replied. “But um… I just didn’t have the confidence. Like I said, I was terrified that I would lose you.” I took Mekaila’s tiny hands in mine. “I love you, my darling. I’d rather have you than plastic pants. Just being with you is the best thing in the world.”

Mekaila’s beautiful dark eyes brimmed with tears as she hugged me so hard I thought my ribs would crack. “I love you too,” she replied before mashing her lips against mine.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I curiously asked.

“I not know,” Mekaila sighed. “It wasn’t until I found your plastic stash that I realized that you actually like wearing plastic raincoats. Or plastic pantes.” She exhaled gustily. “I should have told you then, but I want waited until you tell me yourself.”

“Yeah, I understand.”

Mekaila kissed me tenderly before rising. “Wait, ha? I’m going to the comfort room.”

While I waited for Mekaila to return, I thought about the amazing revelations we’d just shared. Was Mekaila really sincere about this, or…?

“Peek a boo!” a very familiar voice cried behind me. “Ready or not, here I come!”

“Ah, w… What?” I exclaimed upon spotting Mekaila. “Oh my God.”

Delighted with my reaction, Mekaila happily pirouetted before striking a dramatic pose for me. “You like?”

“Wow….” I breathed. The sight facing me was so breathtaking that all I could do was stare like a lovestruck teenager meeting his favourite pop idol for the first time.

Mekaila giggled as she sashayed towards me before pirouetting like a fashion model on the runway.

I goggled with disbelief as she modelled the plastic items I’d hidden in the suitcase, in the (then) less than optimistic hope I might somehow cajole Mekaila into wearing everything, before making the long trip to the Philippines.

Her glass-clear plastic panties were just visible beneath the transparent red playsuit she’d put on over them. Her perky little breasts were clearly visible beneath the plastic. If I’d ever been unsure about Mekaila’s level of feeling for plastic, her erect, excited nipples were all the confirmation I needed. She’d even added a pair of purple plastic bloomers over her playsuit. The waistline of Mekaila’s bloomers sat around stomach height while the hem stopped just above her knees. Confident she’d well and truly grabbed my attention, Mekaila displayed the transparent orange plastic jelly jacket she’d lifted from my suitcase. They’re so called for the amazing slick smooth softness of the elastic, pliable plastic. They were very popular during the mid to late eighties, but few survive nowadays. Although it’s far too small for me, I’d bought it (through eBay) more in hope that someone might wear it one day, than anything else.

That day had come.

While I incredulously looked on, Mekaila slowly pulled my jelly jacket on, inserting her right arm down one sleeve, before repeating the procedure with the left. She was so close now that I could have touched her if I wanted. The intoxicating aroma of freshly minted plastic eddied around me as Mekaila carefully pulled the zipper all the way up to her neck. Her smile was dazzling as she lifted the dangling hood over her head. I almost lost it then and there while Mekaila ever so slowly crossed the laces under her chin and pulled them taut, before tying a tight double knot under her chin. Only her beautiful brown features were visible beneath the most delicious layer of curved, rippling plastic I’d ever seen.

“Wow…..” I breathed.

Mekaila giggled and sat on my lap, facing me with her lithe legs straddling mine. She leant forwards and lovingly wrapped her arms around my neck. “My darling…” Mekaila whispered before kissing me gently. She rubbed her head against my cheek and I almost swooned as the soft plastic caressed my shoulder, neck and ears.

“Dearest Mekaila…” I held her tight against me, savouring the feel of her plastic-clad body against mine.

“Your naughty plastic girl loves you,” Mekaila breathed.

“I love you too,” I softly replied, unable to believe that this was happening.

Mekaila withdrew before giggling softly. “You’re improperly dressed.”

“So what should we do about it?” I chuckled. I hadn’t realized I was still wearing my birthday suit.

“Mmmm…” Mekaila murmured. “We will wear our raincoats. Then…” She licked her lips before grinding her crotch into mine. Her eyes were bottomless pools of love as she gazed into my face. “Good question. Ok, wait ha?” Before I had time to react, Mekaila elegantly rose with a rustle of plastic and trotted around the corner where we’d stored our bags in the hall closet provided for the purpose.

I had no idea which was bigger: Mekaila’s heavenly, wicked smile or my ramrod-erect member. It was a solid rod of iron. I could hardly wait to bang Mekaila again.

Less than a minute or so later, Mekaila returned with the plastic items I’d never expected to wear along with several additions. She dumped them on the bed and smiled widely. “Your new life begins as of today,” Mekaila commented while she sorted through everything. “Ok… sit there,” Mekaila ordered.

The sense of unreality was stronger than ever as Mekaila unceremoniously sat me on the edge of our bed before tenderly lifting my foot and slipping my plastic panties over them. The other one quickly followed. Surely Alice in Wonderland must have felt the same way? I wondered as Mekaila hoicked my plastic pants all the way up my legs and seating them over my crotch. She lovingly cupped my aching genitals in her hand and I groaned loudly.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Mekaila giggled. “I like it too. Ok, I stop na or maybe already you come early.”

My head was spinning while Mekaila helped me climb inside my beautiful semi-transparent plastic playsuit. It’s got such a babyish print pattern set against a lovely soft blue plastic. Simply touching the plastic is almost more than I can bear… never mind actually wearing it. She was all business now, assisting me with my matching plastic bloomers.

More than ever, I had the strangest sense that I’d just lost all control. My normally acquiescent Mekaila was very much on top right now. The majority of Pinay girls are taught to be subservient. I’d never seen her this… dominant (if that’s the right word for it). She was completely in charge now and all I could do was helplessly look on as she ripped a small package open, revealing yet more… rainwear? I had no trouble identifying the brand. I’d seen plenty of people wearing the same raingear back in Batangas port earlier today. There’s a couple of factories in the Philippines which manufacture a lovely, relatively thin but surprisingly tough – and deliciously smooth – range of plastic raincoats, rainsuits and ‘shortie’ jackets. Although they’re mainly intended for tricycle, agricultural and other outdoor workers, their rainwear is popular with students and other trendy young people seeking something to keep them dry during very heavy downpours or typhoons.

Conversationally, “I bought these at the market last week. I want you to wear these before we go bed. We wear plastic raincoat in bed.” She’d barely finished speaking before flipping her folded rainpants open and shaking everything loose until they hung loosely in her hands.

My heart was a bass drum as Mekaila carefully eased my soft, smooth plastic rainpants up my legs. I was sure she could hear how hard it was beating while she adjusted the wide, elasticated waistband around stomach height. My hip-length jacket went on next. Mekaila would not allow me to do up anything, instead insisting upon fastening each button and tying the attached hood herself.

“Now you are all ready for the rain,” she giggled. “Oops… I mean, bed.”

“You could say that,” I chuckled while I incredulously watched my girlfriend dressing for the rain in an exactly similar rainsuit, over her plastic playsuit and bloomers. The incredible sight of my girlfriend clothed in enough shiny translucent plastic to sink the Titanic was an aphrodisiac like nothing else. The last time my cock behaved like this was more years ago than I could remember; in fact, not since I was still a callow youth of just seventeen or eighteen.

Clever Mekaila.

She knew how to press all of my buttons.

Mekaila was a magician. I was simply hypnotised while I watched my partner easing her rainpants all the way up her long legs before pulling everything up around waist height. Mekaila’s beautiful eyes never left mine while she leisurely pulled her matching jacket on, deliberately drawing out the delicious dressing process as long as possible. My chest was so tight that it actually hurt while Mekaila carefully snapped each press stud in place until only the hood was left undone. It was actually quite bizarre seeing the rippling orange hood of Mekaila’s jelly jacket peeking out of her rainwear. I’d never seen anyone wearing more than one layer of rainwear before. Another first for me.

I was uncomfortably of the irony with Mekaila’s performance. Normally it’s the other way around. Most girls strip to titillate their partners, but Mekaila dressing herself in rainwear from head to toe was a strip tease in reverse.

“Baby… aren’t you going to help me do up my hood?” Mekaila giggled, all too aware of the effect she was having on me. “What if we get a typhoon? I’d better be ready if it rains again.”

“Uh… Oh… yes…. Sure.” I choked on my words.

Mekaila’s smile was brighter than a supernova as she pulled the hood over the hood of her jelly jacket. “Come on, are you going to help me?”

“Oh, of course!” I exclaimed.

“That’s right, do it up for me,” Mekaila said as I reached outwards with trembling hands. “Tie it tight so it won’t slip.”

Mekaila lifted her head upwards so I could do up the laces. Aware of her instructions, I pulled them as tightly as possible before knotting everything under her chin. Her forehead and cheeks disappeared under a gleaming dome of wavy, rippling plastic. Only Mekaila’s lovely face was visible now.

“Darling… my darling…” Mekaila murmured before floating into my arms for an embrace that seemed to last forever. She gazed lovingly into my eyes. Reflectively, “You know what’s better than wearing plastic raincoat?” Without waiting for me to answer, Mekaila continued speaking. “Wearing my rainwear with the man I love is the best thing in the world.”

It's not often I’m lost for words, but this was one of those occasions that anyone managed to render me speechless. Somehow Mekaila understood my silence and she hugged me harder. Her plastic-coated breasts were delightfully warm against my chest. A very warm glow began to spread throughout my chest while we held each other. Mekaila was nestling her cheek against mine while we held each other. Already the heat of her body was heating my plastic underthings and rainclothes to the extent I could feel a mixture of condensation and sweat forming on the inside. I squirmed with pleasure as the damp plastic clung to my stomach with the consistency of wild honey.

“Mmmm…” Mekaila sighed before raising her head and gazing into my eyes. She ran her hands over the great dome of plastic stretched tight over my hear while the other one roamed up and down my shoulders and back. “Oh, that feel so nice,” Mekaila breathed while I hesitantly reciprocated the favour, unable to believe that this was happening. “I like, I like so much.”

As honest as the day is long, I’d never known Mekaila to dissemble or lie about anything. She always shoots from the hip. Unlike the majority of young women whom I’d met in the Philippines, Mekaila isn’t a liar or game player. My girlfriend told me, not long after meeting her that she fell in love with me because I treated her with nothing except respect and kindness. ‘I don’t need expensive gifts or money,’ she’d said. ‘All I want and need is someone who give me respect, care me, love me with all his heart and soul. You’re my everything, my darling.’ That was six months ago, and I still remember our convo as if it was yesterday. But I digress. Whenever Mekaila said something, she meant it. She was incapable of artifice or lying simply so I would be happy or get her own way.

There was still a tiny element of me unwilling to believe that Mekaila was actually enjoying this though. Any doubt I had concerning her sincerity vanished within minutes.

Mekaila hopped off my legs, bounced around and shimmied under the sheets in seemingly one motion. She held out her arms for me with a glorious smile which told me everything I needed to know. I’d barely climbed under the sheets before she wrapped her arms and legs around me like an octopus.

There’s times when no words are even necessary. “Darling…” was the only thing Mekaila said as she gazed into my eyes. Her lips met mine an instant later for a heavenly kiss which transcended time and space. Eventually, Mekaila and I withdrew so we could catch our breath. Again, neither of us spoke. We were content to lie in each other’s arms for the time being. There was no rush or hurry. The world had contracted to the pair of us lying in the big bed. We were barely even cognizant of the time. A comet could have struck the Earth and we wouldn’t have noticed a thing.

I hardly dared move while I disbelievingly savoured the incredible sight of my girlfriend clad in multiple layers of plastic. Only Mekaila’s beautiful features were visible between the curvature of not one, but two plastic hoods tied securely around her face. Noticing the direction of my gaze, she smiled again and softly kissed me on the lips. Her hand roamed around the plastic hood circling my face. “I love you.”

Mekaila was beauty incarnate. My chest was tighter than ever I wonderingly studied the vision in shiny, gleaming plastic facing me. The rustle of her rainwear was shockingly loud in my ears. Kaila’s heavenly smile was a vortex, drawing me ever closer the brighter its radiance became. “I love you too,” I softly replied.

With an inarticulate half-cry, Mekaila wrapped her arms around me like an octopus before hugging me so hard I thought that my lungs would burst under the pressure. “Oof!” I gasped as she gripped me harder before wrapping her legs around in a more than passable imitation of that aquatic species.

More than ever, I was intensely aware of my plastic pants and rainwear stickily caressing my skin while Kaila lovingly ran her hands down my back. The sensation of Mekaila’s hands rubbing my plastic-clad back and tush was so delicious that I couldn’t help moaning with pleasure. Somehow her gliding hands were magnifying the heavenly smoothness of the soft, cool plastic beyond belief. Although I’d hugged myself more than once, it was the first time anyone else had hugged me whilst wearing rainwear. Mekaila was kissing me again, slipping her tongue inside my mouth and I was actually glad she couldn’t see the tears of emotion in my eyes while we pashed like teenagers. It was so overwhelming that I was finding it hard to control the intensity of the emotions colliding with each other within my overloaded brain.

There we were, covered in plastic rainwear from head to toe, while we held each other. Until now, I’d never dared hope that Mekaila might accept my fetish for everything plastic, let alone embrace it this enthusiastically. She was all but trying to climb inside me with her tongue now. It was a living, breathing organism, wrapping itself around my tongue, eagerly exploring every nook and cranny of my mouth.

The next couple of hours or so passed in a dreamy blur, as if in a dream. I was only distantly aware of the shadows lengthening until it was almost dark. Mekaila and I were content to hold and kiss each other. Our lips remained more or less locked together, save for the very few times we absolutely had to surface for air and catch our breath.

There’s no more beautiful – or purer – form of intimacy than holding each other and making out. For the first time I could remember, there was no pressure – or expectation to ‘perform’. Beautiful young Mekaila was my world and Mekaila was the world.

Content to do little more than hug and kiss all afternoon, Kaila’s hand was growing bolder now. Her lips never left mine as it slipped downwards before caressing my butt. She subtly shifted position and gazed into my eyes while her hand slipped around my butt. Her grin became wolfish as my penis frantically tried to escape its plastic prison.

“Mmmm … someone’s enjoying himself,” Mekaila murmured as she caressed the massive bulge inside my plastic pants.

I stifled a moan as her grip tightened around my aching nuts.

“You like?” Mekaila’s voice was impossibly soft, tender as she held my head in the crook of her arm, her hand caressing the plastic covering my cheeks.

“Oh yess…” I sighed.

“Feels so good, ha?”

I could only nod. Mekaila’s gliding hands were doing terrible things to me.

“I like naman. Feels good,” she sighed. “I want you. I want to fuck my plastic man now.”

“Really?” I had to ask. My turn to return the favour. I allowed my hands to glide downwards before caressing, massaging her glowing crotch. A radiant heat was warming my fingers and it spurred me onwards.

Mekaila’s glowing face was a barometer. Her dancing eyes were on fire now. They eloquently spoke louder than any words as she pulled me close again. “Oh baby… I’m so horny now. I want you so muchhhh!” Mekaila’s hand had somehow migrated beneath my plastic pants and her fingers were performing a beautiful symphony on my throbbing, pulsating dick.

I wanted her so badly that it was a physical ache. Mekaila was so beautiful! She was all woman. Her slim brown body and shapely breasts were infinitely soft beneath the plastic covering everything. If anything, Mekaila’s plastic playsuit and rainwear actually seemed to emphasis the softness of her body, each womanly curve nestling against my chest and crotch like a glove.

Perhaps sensing how much I was enjoying the way she was caressing me, Mekaila’s roaming hands were everywhere now. She was massaging two of the most sensitive portions of my anatomy now. I groaned again as her hand returned to my swollen member before enclosing everything in a giant plastic fist and rhythmically masturbating me through the slit in my plastic pants.

Mekaila was swarming all over me now, her roving hands exploring every inch of my body as her mouth found mine for yet another searing kiss.

If there was such a thing as Heaven, this surely had to be it.

Rolling around in plastic with the loveliest girl I’d ever met. Did life get much better than this?

Not for the first time, I vainly attempted to suspend my disbelief.

I still couldn’t believe that this was happening – but Mekaila’s darting tongue and roaming hands caressing my body were all too real. Her plastic rainsuit was impossibly smooth beneath my fingers while we continued kissing as if our lives depended upon remaining glued together as long as possible. Our plastic underwear and rainsuits were sympathetically heating up along with our growing excitement and need for each other. My back was already a river of sweat as Mekaila wrapped herself around me, but I hardly noticed, much less cared. If anything, the slick plastic suddenly felt a hundred times nicer as it slipped and slid against my tingling skin in perfect sync with our gyrations.

Mekaila’s burning eyes bored into mine as a low moan escaped her throat before she spoke. “Please… I’m so horny now. I want you, I need you.”

Horny? Who was talking horny now? I wanted Mekaila so badly it hurt. My dick was alive now, angrily throbbing as if indignant making it wait so long for the relief it needed. I bit my lip before leaning away and allowing my eyes to feast on the lovely girl facing me.

“Baby…”

“Yes?”

“Fuck me… now.” Mekaila’s voice brooked no dissent as she half stood, before undoing, and all but ripping her rainsuit off.

Nimble fingers danced like sprites as Mekaila undid my rainwear, leaving me clad in little more than my sweaty playsuit playsuit. Her blazing eyes never left mine as we knelt in front of each other for a seeming eternity.

Before I could react, Mekaila pulled me down on the bed with a sympathetic rustly crackle of plastic. I couldn’t bear it any longer. I had to have her now! My need was so great that it overwhelmed every other consideration.

A tiny, almost inarticulate cry escaped Mekaila’s mouth as she yielded to me, her lips opening wide to accept my tongue in the longest kiss we’d shared yet. I was acutely aware of the plastic circling Mekaila’s face while our tongues danced a duet with each other’s. Her beautiful breasts were very soft against my chest and I couldn’t help groaning with pleasure while she squirmed beneath me. Mekaila loves it when I lie on top of her and I happily obliged, enjoying the warmth of her body while we continued kissing.

I was more aware than ever of the soft smooth plastic rubbing my engorged cock as Mekaila ground her hips against my crotch and it simply inflamed me. Her tongue was a darting devil, wrapping and curling itself around mine and I closed my eyes before groaning. I’d never wanted her so much before or since. Every nerve ending on my body was on fire. I had to withdraw for air otherwise I would…

“Oh baby… I want you so muchh!” Mekaila’s voice was pleading. “Please… I want you. Fuck me now!”

Despite my overwhelming need, I hesitated as the ever-present specter of my previous impotence entered my mind. I was acutely, painfully aware of the consequences if I failed to perform. Despite the great day we’d just enjoyed together, it uncomfortably remained in the back of my mind. For Mekaila, intercourse has is the ultimate expression of our love for each other. She’s always saying that nothing does it for her more than those very special moments when we’re in bed together. Sex is far more than simply physical (as nice that is) for Mekaila, it’s a true union of heart and soul for her.

It’s why my girlfriend loves sex with a passion bordering on the outrageous at times. She always wants me with a hunger bordering on desperation at times – not that I’m complaining, mind you. Kaila’s got a pretty inventive mind too – but this was the first time I’d ever seen her dressed in plastic. Her vinyl jelly jacket and short-sleeved playsuit rippled as she held her arms out wide for me.

The inside of Mekaila’s plastic pants were slick and wet with condensation caused by the combination of her trapped body heat – and rapidly rising arousal. I swallowed hard as my dick stiffened sympathetically. My worries that it wouldn’t rise to the occasion evaporated then and there. Mekaila’s face was so cute between the great, rippling dome of impossibly smooth plastic framing her face. I didn’t have to look to see how angrily it was pulsing.

Mekaila, noticing my erection giggled. “Mama wants big boy there. Come to me now. Please fuck your naughty little plastic girl now.”

I didn’t need any further encouragement.

“Darling…” Mekaila breathed as I lowered myself down on her.

Her ruby lips mashed themselves against mine the moment I laid on top of her. Mekaila’s arms gripped me with a scarcely believable tightness as we held each other in an increasingly sweaty plastic embrace. I barely had time to wonder why Mekaila didn’t instantly pull me inside her while she ground her crotch against mine, before she abruptly rolled around, taking me with her. Before I had time to react, I found myself lying on my back with Mekaila on top of me.

Mekaila’s beautiful eyes were soft, dark pools of radiant love as she gazed into my face. She kissed my lips again before rising. More than a little puzzled, I opened my mouth. “What a…”

“Shush,” Mekaila smiled as she straddled my hips.

She was a living sculpture, a goddess of plastic rainwear. Mekaila was beautiful beyond belief in the sweet curves of her plastic-clad body. Her small, perfect breasts rose and fell beneath their plastic prison while she silently, mutely gazed into my eyes. Kaila’s expression was unusually grave as she silently regarded me. Mekaila was beauty incarnate and I held my breath as she filled my vision. Every detail was as sharp as crystal: the rippling dome of plastic framing Mekaila’s fine Filipina features, the tight elasticated waistband of her jelly jacket, her plastic panties peeking shyly outwards. I could – just – see the dark, damp patch of curly hair barely hiding Mekaila’s soaking wet clit. The sharp, aromatic scent of Kaila’s arousal was strong enough to overwhelm even slightly astringent smell of her brand-new plastic wear. I bit my lip hard in a vain attempt to provide some kind of distraction, no matter how small. Much more of this and I would cream myself – and that really wouldn’t do either.

Still Mekaila didn’t utter a single word. I could only look on with the strangest sense of detachment as she leant forwards and gently eased my engorged penis out of its plastic prison. The extra money I’d spent having a strategically placed reinforced slit put in our plastic undergarments was paying off in spades now (she had no idea that I’d optimistically ordered them with this special design feature). Kaila carefully maneuvered herself into position before sinking down on me, lowering herself on me, inch by agonizing inch, until she was fully impaled on my rigid pole. I’m by no means undersized in that most important of departments, but Mekaila had no trouble taking all of me inside her.

Oh my God… the impossibly delicious sensations of Mekaila’s tight, wet pussy gripping my penis in a giant warm fist were so overwhelming that I all but passed out from sheer ecstasy. She was so hot, so tight, so wet that I could hardly bear it.

Her face was unusually solemn as she straddled me. My chest was so tight that it actually hurt as Mekaila’s eyes gazed into mine. It was the first time that she’d ever done this before. Normally, I always took the lead so for her to sit on top of me was extremely unusual. Slowly, ever slowly, Kaila began to move rhythmically above me, and at last, I understood. Mekaila was telling me, in the most special possible way, that she fully accepted me – that she wanted me as her mate.

Mekaila’s plastic jelly jacket gleamed like a lantern in the soft, effulgent light as she began to move faster and faster. Sweat shone on her cheeks as Kaila impaled herself on me with each increasingly vigorous downwards thrust. For the first time, I heard her speaking to me, articulating our love language as clearly as if she’d shouted it off the roof tops.

Encased in love’s plastic embrace, a great peace stole over me as we wrapped ourselves around each other in a sweaty plastic embrace.

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

There’s times words are just superfluous, and so it proved while Mekaila and I relaxed in each other’s arms after the most special union we would experience all of our lives. It was more than simple procreation ordered by God, it was an intermingling of our minds and souls.

It’s no exaggeration to say that we slept like innocent newborns. When I woke, Mekaila was still wearing her orange plastic jelly jacket. She hadn’t even undone the hood, leaving it tied in place all night long. Despite the enthusiastic bedroom gymnastics which we’d just enjoyed together only a few hours ago, my limp cock instantly roared back to life. Perhaps Mekaila somehow sensed it insistently pressing against her crotch, for she chose that moment to open her eyes. Kaila didn’t say anything, instead smiling and gently guiding my tumescent member inside her.

Our lovemaking was slow and gentle, although no less beautiful for that.

The only reason we even left our bed was for the most prosaic of reasons: I was absolutely busting for a pee. My growling stomach was also reminding me how hungry I was.

Since we were already up, Mekaila and I unanimously decided that it was time to have a shower and clean up. Sex is a naturally messy and occasionally smelly business, something which even the most lurid of romances never bothers to mention. Our sweaty plastic wear was already somewhat pungent by now.

I wasn’t really looking forwards being compelled to wear ‘normal’ clothes for breakfast. Obviously, I could hardly expect Mekaila to wear her plastic playsuit or rainwear for breakfast in the resort dining room. Coco Grove is, after all, a beach resort in a hot, tropical country. I had no idea that Kaila had other plans.

After showering and washing our sweaty plastic undergarments, we helped towel each other dry (it’s one of our favourite morning rituals, which we’d neglected all too often lately), before dressing for the day.

“Are you hungry, my mahal?” I asked Mekaila.

“I’m starving,” Kaila giggled. “I could eat an elephant.”

“You already have,” I chuckled. I mutely pointed in the direction of my crotch.

“Hey!” Mekaila dissolved into a giggly puddle. “You’re so bad.”

That’s why you love me.” I smiled and hugged my naked girlfriend. Not for the first time, I couldn’t help admiring the supple, lush body of my girlfriend. Mekaila is a true ‘morena’ girl which, in the Philippines, refers to the unusual darkness of her skin. It’s not a universally desirable trait, thanks to the marketing efforts of giant skincare companies attempting to convince Filipino women that dark brown skin is unhealthy and ‘pangit’ (ugly). Fortunately, Mekaila is more than happy with the body that God gave her. She feels there is no need to change anything, and I agree wholeheartedly. But I digress.

“Are you sure?” Mekaila giggled.

“Positive.” I smiled.

Mekail was all sunshine and laughter while we continued teasing each other. I felt my heart glow while I studied her radiant features. It’d been a long time between drinks.

“Try to leave some bacon for the others, won’t you?” I teased. Mekaila’s appetite for bacon is even more legendary than her metabolism. Although she’s tiny, Kaila is more than capable of consuming meals which would leave me prostrate.

“I’ll try. No promises though!” she shot back.

“I pity the other guests,” I chuckled before opening the drapes. “Looks like it’s going to be a nice day. It’s perfect swimwear weather.” The sky was that glorious shade of cerulean blue which told me that this weather was likely to last all day, if not weeks. No typhoons were forecast in the near or far future. The lush grounds of the resort were bathed in bright sunshine. Already several guests were using the large freeform swimming pool, located a hundred or so feet below our hilly eyrie. Despite the early hour of the day, the poolside bar was already dispensing drinks.

“Wow….” Mekaila breathed as she cautiously peered outside. She didn’t want anyone seeing her birthday suit. “It’s so ganda.”

“It sure is,” I chucked. “Not exactly raincoat weather, is it? We won’t need our raincoats today.”

“Who says we don’t need our raincoats today?”

“I did,” I grinned.

Mekaila simply giggled before trotting back inside.

“Oh…!” I exclaimed as she climbed inside a clean pair of pink plastic panties. I hadn’t expected this.

Of course, Mekaila had no trouble spotting the massive stiffie I was already pitching and she giggled loudly. “Looks like we’ve found the Holy Grail. The fountain of youth, the magical cure for impotence.”

Embarrassed, I muttered, “Yeah, yeah.”

“It’s Ok,” Mekaila softly replied. “You know, this is also turning me on as well. Look.” She plunged her hand beneath her plastic panties and rubbed her clit. “See how wet I am?”

I caught a deliciously aromatic whiff of her arousal and I grinned. “Oh yes… very much.”

The bright early morning sun wasn’t even half as bright as Mekaila’s blazing smile as she shimmied into her transparent pink plastic playsuit. Her beautiful little titties were clearly visible through the plastic. While I was still goggling with disbelief, Kaila pulled her orange jelly jacket on, leaving it unzipped. Mekaila’s short denim mini quickly followed.

Eventually, I managed to regain my breath. “Are… are you actually going out like that?” I asked.

“Yes.” Mekaila beamed. “Why? You don’t like?”

“I…” I groaned as a beam of sunlight speared my eyes. I blearily blinked once, twice before sighing miserably as I gazed around the room. Mekaila had completely vanished, leaving me with wondrous memories of what might have been. The majority of dreams are ephemeral, vanishing like the will o’the wisp upon waking. Not this one. The dream I’d just had was so vivid, so real that I could almost smell the scent of Mekaila’s perfume mingling with freshly minted plastic rainwear. Wha happened?

What the fuck? I wanted to cry. It wasn’t the best way to start the week. My job is about as exciting as watching paint dry (although it helps pay the bills, and that’s the only positive thing I can say about my corporate role at a big mining company) and I wasn’t looking forwards to braving the morning traffic into the city. At least I had a few minutes to kill before being forced to crawl out of bed.

My collection of plastic pants, playsuits and any number of raincoats shone in the closet opposite me and I sighed again. Another unwelcome reminder what might have been just a few minutes ago. Dammit, I’d even creamed myself. I thought I was too old for those kinds of teenage wet dreams, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

A pert ‘ping’ shattered the silence and I wearily checked the phone. It better not be my boss asking me to come in early again. I was all but ready to chuck in my job with these people, but the only thing holding me back was the lack of a partner to enjoy my new life with.

Fortunately, it turned out to be nothing more than an e-mail notification from one of the online Asian dating companies which I’d joined a year or so ago. More out of boredom than any real interest, I opened it. I receive anywhere from five to ten such notifications a day, and I’d talked to dozens, if not hundreds of girls during the last eleven or twelve months. But none of them floated my boat for various reasons. Dating is a numbers game, and I wasn’t winning that particular lottery in life. It scarcely helps that I’ve got pretty unconventional needs.

The notification turned out to be from an unusually attractive Filipina. “Oh my God…” I breathed. “She is so cute.” Her name was written below the small thumbnail image and I gasped loudly. Talk about irony. I’d just spent most of the night with the same person. They even looked uncannily similar. No longer bored, I pressed the hyperlink taking me to her personal page. Luckily, the phone signal was unusually good this morning and it loaded quickly.

What the… I exclaimed with complete disbelief. One glance at Mekaila’s photo gallery was all the proof I needed to know that she was ‘The One’, that one very special woman whom I’d dreamt of meeting all my life.

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

My stomach was tying itself in knots as the big jet floated downwards, its long slender wings rocking slightly as the pilots made a minute correction to the angle of landing they wanted. The zebra strip denoting the end of the three-kilometre-long strip of concrete flashed past. An entire orchestra of butterflies were performing a concerto deep within my chest as the wheels clawed for the ground racing below.

The girl of all my dreams, all my fantasies, was waiting for me inside Manila’s NAIA International Airport. After sending her a message, she’d replied within minutes and we hit it off straight away. We’d spent virtually every free waking moment talking to each other and now, after six agonizingly long months, we were about to meet for the first time. I could actually feel her presence in the nearby terminal.

“Mekaila…” I silently breathed, as the main undercarriage struck the ground with a loud bump. Beautiful, lovely Mekaila Villacorta Marasigan. I tears prick my eyes as I thought about holding the girl I loved for the first time. The plane shuddered violently as the engines roared in reverse thrust. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until the plane slowed to (me) a near dawdle. Without anything to do except endure the tortuously long taxi, I gazed outside the windows. The sky was that shade of blue which told me rain was far distant.

Hurry uuuuuuuuup! I silently screamed as the plane swung around before straightening for the endlessly long taxi back to the terminal we’d passed a couple of minutes ago. The big jets whined softly, as if relieved the long journey was almost over. The mood was buoyant, even euphoric aboard the giant Philippine Airlines 777. Filipinos are possibly the most family-oriented nation on Earth, and the majority of passengers would be looking forwards to catching up with their families. The woman on my left was crying softly. I’d spoken to her earlier. She was a OFW (Overseas Foreign Worker) from Singapore. She hadn’t seen her young children for five years. Other people. Like myself, were meeting overseas partners for the first time.

Eventually, we finally pulled into our slot after a delay-plagued taxi. We’d been forced to stop several times before continuing. I fidgeted with anxiety. By now Mekaila would know we’d landed, and she would be worried sick.

Luckily (don’t ask me why), Immigration was blessedly quiet and I sailed through Customs without anything to declare.

The wild bacchanalistic celebrations of the butterflies was reaching new heights as I collected a trolley before waiting for my bags. I could see a huge, thick line of people waiting behind the barrier just metres away from the towering glass windows of the cavernous baggage claims hall. Unlike Immigration, it was busy. We must’ve arrived just after a lull. Some lucky passengers had already spotted their loved ones and they were frantically waving to them against a great deal of screaming and yelling.

Yet again, Lady Luck must’ve been looking out for me. My bags were among the first off the carousel, which in this country, is nothing short of a miracle.

Our reunion (if one could call it that) was just seconds away. I inhaled deeply before swallowing and pushed the heavy trolley out the door. The sweltering heat and humidity of the Philippines hit me like a bomb the moment I left the cool, air-conditioned comfort of the terminal. Although it was not my first visit to this country, I’d forgotten what the climate was like. The familiar, overpowering smell of Manila was almost equally overwhelming.

My nervousness was increasing exponentially while I glanced around the swarming crowds. Filipinos aren’t known for their punctuality. Or… maybe Mekaila might’ve gotten confused with the time I was supposed to be arriving? She might’ve gotten held up in the awful traffic which Manila is notorious for. Anything could’ve happened.

Just as I was beginning to worry, a brilliant flash of yellow caught my eye. My heart caught as the ethereally slim girl rose before simply flying in my direction. Time appeared to slow to a standstill as she powered towards me with a high-pitched ringing scream of undiluted joy. I almost had no time to react as Mekaila slowed ever so briefly before wrapping her arms around my neck for a hug that seemed to last forever. Completely uncaring of what anyone might think, Kaila mashed her lips against mine before retreating and lovingly gazing into my eyes. A soft, nervous giggle escaped her beautiful lips as she noticed the look of utter, complete disbelief writ large on my face. “You don’t mind?” she hesitantly asked.

“Oh my…” I breathed as I looked into the beautiful eyes of the girl I loved. Mekaila’s face was perfectly framed by a great, gleaming dome of glossy yellow vinyl. She’d tied the hood of her yellow PVC raincoat as tight as it would go with a neat knot under her chin. More details began to emerge while I incredulously studied my partner. In complete defiance of the sunny weather (never mind the humidity), Kaila stubbornly buttoned her beautiful raincoat all the way up to the neck. She’d even done up the attached belt just about as tight as it would go. I couldn’t get over the way Mekaila’s rainwear highlighted the gorgeous swell of her lush breasts or the way it flared outwards beneath the tight belt. A sudden gust of wind lifted the hem of Mekaila’s shiny yellow mac, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her matching rainpants.

Rainpants? What the f… ?

Mekaila must have seen the look of shock on my face because she flushed hotly.

“Darling…” I caressed the nape of her neck before asking, “Do you remember how we met?”

“Yes…” she breathed.

“When I saw your profile, when I saw your photos,” I quietly replied, “I knew that you were The One.”

“Talaga?” Mekaila smiled.

I nodded. “Yes, really. When I saw all those photos of you in rainwear of one kind or another, I knew.”

“I was hoping someone would understand my message. And…” Mekaila kissed full on my lips. “You did.”

“It’s our love language,” I whispered as we held each other.

“Oo, I could not agree more,” Mekaila quietly replied before flooring me with, “but how can it be our love language if you are not dressed for the rain?”

“Um… Er, yes.” I didn’t know what to say. “But… it’s not raining.”

Mekaila glanced upwards and spotted a single small cumulus cloud floating serenely in the sky. “You never know. It might rain any moment. Always be prepared and all that, right?”

“Er… yes,” I agreed.

Mekaila crossed her arms over each other and said, “We can’t be a real raincoat couple unless you are wearing your raincoat.” Smiling, “Darling, please put your shiny yellow plastic raincoat on now. Oh, and your rainpants too. I want you fully dressed for the rain.”

She had me over a barrel. “Now?” I asked.

“Now.” Mekaila smiled sweetly. “We’re not leaving the airport until you put your rainwear on.”

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

“And that’s how I met your grandmother,” I told my son, “and we spent the rest of our lives together in plastic rainwear.”

“I thought the story was supposed to end with, ‘And they lived happily ever after.’,” he said.

Mekaila’s gleaming yellow rainwear crackled and rustled as she smiled and hugged our grandson. “Yes… we did.”

Wow! What a wonderful story!
I love it! I would love to experience such a scenario!

Very enjoyable, I went back and read the original afterwards, 2 stories for the price of one. Bargain.

A beautiful story, the stuff my (wishful) dreams are made of as well

Oh yes. A good late night read! Thank you.