After I discovered the secrets behind the Honeypot Bookshop in Soho and had my amazing encounter with Henry and his wife Mary, I was in a bit of a daze for the next day or two. Having your fantasies come true is not something one expects out of the blue. I had to pinch myself repeatedly over the weekend to confirm it wasn't all just a dream. But I had my souvenir packet of photos tucked away in my luggage, which I looked at now and then, assuring myself that it had all really happened.
I took the tube and busses around London, visiting bookshops in the West End, but often considerably beyond Charing Cross and Soho. I found a few treasures, but my attention kept being diverted by the question of what fantasy I might fulfill at the Honeypot on my second visit. The rules of the game seemed to be that a potential guest's fantasy had to match up with one of Mary's. This amounted to making stabs in the dark, because I really had no idea of what Mary's fantasies might be.
I got a sense that she liked to push through her rather staid upbringing and go for broke, but that was not exactly clear guidance. Still, I mulled over my own favorite fantasies and decided to call the shop on Monday and run a possible scene by Henry, who could check it with Mary. I kept a back-up fantasy in reserve, just in case the first one I proposed might bomb out. Luckily it did not, so I arrived at the Honeypot on Tuesday at four, reasonably sure that my fantasy and Mary's were in synch.
* * *
I pushed the grimy plastic doorbell button and was promptly buzzed in, with the front door unlocking and swinging shut behind me. Henry was standing behind his counter, welcoming me with a broad grin, instead of sizing me up quizzically.
"Ah, Neil, old boy, lovely to see you again. This should be a good one. Mary's all dolled up and eager to see you. A bit more bizarre than last time, but bizarre is good. Let's take ourselves upstairs and meet the Missus. I trust you are all recovered from last time and ready for another jolly romp?"
"Indeed, Henry. Let's push on. I've been looking forward to this for days."
I followed the old coot up the narrow staircase to the now familiar flat above the shop and stood in the compact kitchen as he summoned his wife.
"Hullo, Mary. Neil has arrived!"
Once again, Mary entered into the kitchen from the sitting room, though this time she was not in a light flowered dress. Hardly. She was encased in a black rubber suit and hood, with holes for her breasts, her eyes and mouth, and a broad opening from her pubic mound back to the top of her arse-crack. Her mane of gray-streaked brown hair was funneled into twin ponytails through holes in the hood on either side of her head. She was a vision of bizarre elegance, which I found impossibly enticing.
Call me perverted or depraved, but she was embodying one of my kinky fantasies and seemingly happy to do so. She strolled up to me and clasped my face in her hands and gave me a deep kiss.
"So good to see you again, Neil. I'm sure we will have a lovely time. I'm your rubber dolly to do with as you please. All my holes are exposed and available. I'm your fuck toy, darling. Skewer me like the animal you are and the animal I wish to be."
While Henry mixed up a round of Martinis, Mary took me into their sitting room and settled into one of their cushioned chairs that allowed her to spread her private parts wide for my ministrations. I immediately began to remove my clothes and was naked with my prick rigidly dripping pre-cum just as Henry came in with a tray of cocktails.
"Ah, perfect timing I see! Here, let's all have a toast to help get our moods adjusted before the festivities begin, shall we?"
The old coot distributed the drinks and held his Martini up in our direction. We followed suit and all exclaimed "Cheers!" together and then took a generous sip. As before, the dry and dirty Martini nearly spun my head around like the possessed girl in 'The Exorcist'.
"Gosh," I said, "Hello Dolly!"
And then it was time for me to approach the rubber-clad Goddess before me. My rubber fantasy had, to this point, been purely a product of my imagination. I had never even touched someone in rubber, much less run my hands all over their shiny black second skin. I knelt before Mary and proceeded to do just that. The sensations invoked by her bizarre garb made the hair on the back of my neck and on my arms spring to attention.
