<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Latexi on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/latexi/</link><description>Recent content in Latexi on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Mon, 03 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/latexi/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>In the Shadows</title><link>/stories/2019/06/03/in-the-shadows/</link><pubDate>Mon, 03 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/06/03/in-the-shadows/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;In the darkness we appear to be one, but a closer inspection would reveal two bodies entwined, clad in black rubber. Silent and motionless except for gentle breathing, you could be mistaken for believing that we were asleep. But to those who understand, who have experienced, such situations, there is an unmistakeable air of anticipation.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;We both lie on our sides, she facing away from me with her back pressed lightly against me. My arms wrap around her, encircling her, longing to crush her; but not yet, too soon for that.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Lunch with Rachel</title><link>/stories/2019/06/03/lunch-with-rachel/</link><pubDate>Mon, 03 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2019/06/03/lunch-with-rachel/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Invitation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Thursday lunch time, and as is our norm we sit in the coffee shop chatting. The conversation is rarely linear. Subjects are knocked back and forward as if we were playing volleyball, but where some might strive to be competitive we both delight in the imagination and ideas of the other. Laughter is frequent, as are hands touching the other - simply an enhanced, more intimate form of communication.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Joy of Windsurfing 2</title><link>/stories/2005/11/20/the-joy-of-windsurfing-2/</link><pubDate>Sun, 20 Nov 2005 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2005/11/20/the-joy-of-windsurfing-2/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;The Joy of Windsurfing
by Latexi
&lt;strong&gt;Joy of Windsurfing - Part2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Bastard.  I hadn’t even wanted to try windsurfing but he said I
must.  He’d bought me the wetsuit.  Very black and very expensive,
he said; with ‘convenience zips’, he said.  Convenient for what, I
asked, and I believe he almost blushed!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;So here I am, changed, cold, ready to go and now a text message. 
He can’t come.  No apology, no explanation, just ‘Susan and Paul will
take care of you’.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Joy of Windsurfing</title><link>/stories/2005/10/28/the-joy-of-windsurfing/</link><pubDate>Fri, 28 Oct 2005 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2005/10/28/the-joy-of-windsurfing/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;The Joy of Windsurfing
by Latexi&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I’ve always enjoyed wearing wetsuits. Always black and always slightly
too tight, but the thought of combining my private fetish with an actual
sexual encounter was just one fantasy too far.  Until, that is, I
met Susan and Paul.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Both tall and very fit, I had met them windsurfing on our local lake. 
Their skill on the water was obvious to all.  Equally obvious was
the tone of their muscular bodies, revealed rather than hidden by the skin-tight
fit of their wetsuits.  I wasn’t surprised that I should find Susan’s
figure so alluring.  No one could fail to be attracted by her firm
breasts encased in tight neoprene, her body threatening to break free of
its rubber bonds at any moment.  What did surprise me though was how
often I found myself glancing at Paul.  The shiny black rubber wrapped
around his chest and his muscular thighs, but most often I caught myself
admiring his tight ass, flexing as he carried his board back and forward
to the water.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>