At this moment I should be working on an article but I’m thinking about zentai instead. In fact, I just can’t seem to get it out of my mind. And it has been like this ever since I came across this kink. For those who are still unaware of it, zentai is a Japanese term for skin-tight suits that cover the whole body. They are usually made from spandex. Although their origin was not sexual, they have attracted a certain kind of fetishistic attention and many people are attracted to their image and their potential to provoke. I wonder if I should get my very own zentai costume?
With this in mind, I abandon my article and find myself, yet again, doing a search on Amazon to browse their ever-increasing selection of zentai designs. After several pages of colourful ensembles, I’m transported to a fantasy world, somewhere far away.
At first, I can not help laughing at how ridiculous some of the patterns seem to be. The crazy graphics and repeated motifs are amazing and one that resembles a printed tuxedo, complete with bow-tie, is worthy of extra attention. In addition to the novelty designs, there are classic single-colour ones. They seem to draw much more attention to the figure and make a statement about its importance. I can not help but begin to imagine the scandalous outline of my camel toe and my hard nipples poking out through my own zentai costume.
I wonder, all of a sudden, whether anyone has tried zentai yoga. I google it, just to check. Yes, it has already been done. I run through the numerous images of ‘downward dog’ and ‘sun salutation’ in clinging zentai outfits. Then, almost without realising it, my hand makes its way downwards until it nestles between my crossed thighs. I can even detect the aroma of my sweet nectar.
I think I should lie down.
Without further ado, I get up from my desk and go straight to my bedroom. This is the wonderful thing about working from home – I can take a spontaneous orgasm break whenever I feel the need to.
I locate my favourite vibrator, lie down, switch it on and place it against my throbbing clitoris. After closing my eyes, my mind wanders. I imagine the feel of the zentai spandex enclosing, and caressing, my curves. I feel naked even though I am dressed. It seems like latex in my fantasy but is more comfortable and easier to wear.
If I try to analyse the elusive aspect of zentai that turns me on, I end up focusing on its arousing anonymity. Although wearing something so skin-tight should make me self-conscious, the fact that my head and face are covered has the opposite effect. The fact that I’m anonymous is incredibly liberating and I am tempted by the exhibitionist behaviour that only zentai can allow.
I envisage a variety of zentai scenarios. For example, doing mundane things while clad in a zentai suit is more than enough to make me twitch. I like the idea of going to the supermarket with no one knowing who I am.
I am enticed by the prospect of freaky zentai dancing, or even going to a nightclub where I’m the only one who is completely covered up. Everyone’s eyes would be on me. I could not see them but I might feel their stares caressing my body. I would dance as if no one was watching and I would be oblivious to the rhythm.
Just walking in the street, in broad daylight, would be a turn-on if I was wearing zentai. I visualise my shockingly swollen labia and my painfully hard nipples again. I ignore the gasps from passers-by as I just get on with my daily business. My camel-toe is evident but the increasing humidity between my legs must be even more obvious.
This sheer volume of zentai stimulus proves too much for me. I’m shuddering and moaning in no time at all. My zentai-induced orgasmic frenzy is overwhelming. As soon as I get my breath back, I pull up my jogging bottoms and go back to my desk. The screen saver activated in my absence. After tapping a key, the image of zentai yoga reappears.
Yes, I need to get myself one of those, I think to myself.
Then, I get on with my article.