My obsession with leather began when I was in college. During my freshman year, I was the perfect picture of a bright-eyed coed in my preppy clothes, with dean’s list grades and an impressive list of extracurricular activities. In the years that followed, I managed to keep up my grades, but there was a subtle shift that took place. I still looked the same to my friends, but my erotic introduction to leather opened up a whole new world of sexy possibilities and changed my life forever.
I spent my first academic year strolling the leafy paths of the venerable campus with the captain of the football team, a polite, affable guy who quite frankly was the most boring fuck of my life. Deep down, I recognized that I wasn’t happy, which is why I probably picked a fight with him right before spring break. He wanted to go to Cancun, while I wanted to do something more productive with my time. Naturally, neither of us would budge, so we broke up. And while he went off to Mexico, I dedicated my time to building housing for the homeless—well, some of my time, that is. But either way, I did learn an important life lesson that week, and isn’t that what higher education is all about?
The project manager to whom I reported at the construction site was a gruff, muscular man who was only a few years older than me, but the tattoos on his arms and his sun-burnt skin bespoke of adventure and experience that I could only imagine, having been wrapped in the safe cocoon of academia for so many months. I still remember the first time I laid eyes on Caleb. I was standing near the employees’ trailer, drinking a soda and enjoying the sunny morning, when I heard a low rumble in the distance. Actually it seemed like I felt it vibrating up through the ground before it registered in my ears, the sensation traveling up my tanned legs to tease my pussy with its rhythmic pulsations. Looking for the source of the noise, I turned to see Caleb pulling up on his Harley. I was mesmerized as I watched him park his bike and pull off his helmet, his wavy black hair glimmering in the sunshine. He was wearing a black leather jacket and tight jeans, and I continued to stare as he dismounted, his work boots kicking up clouds of dust as he moved about the bike. Dressed as he was, he looked like the stereotypical bad boy, and he set my pulse racing from the second I laid eyes on him.
To be honest, I didn’t know the first thing about construction. During my first two days on the job, Caleb seemed to vacillate between annoyance and amusement as he supervised my tasks. Inexperience aside, I’m a fast learner, and his direction took on a teasing tone as he sensed my growing expertise. It didn’t take long before our days were filled with flirtation and innuendo, even as he continued to chide me about being a “slumming Ivy Leaguer.”
As our relationship developed, however, one thing stayed the same: I couldn’t take my eyes off him when he was wearing his leather motorcycle jacket. The mere sight of it turned me on. And even when he wasn’t wearing it, I noticed that his tanned skin still seemed to hold its faint, earthy scent. It was almost as if a lifetime of wearing it permanently perfumed his masculine flesh, and I’d never encountered anything like it before. The sight and scent of Caleb seemed to have me perpetually in heat.
As much as I enjoyed our playful banter, I really wanted to prove myself, so I worked extra hard at every task I was assigned. Every night it seemed that I was the last one to leave the site, except for Caleb of course. I was standing alone in a partially finished home one night, looking over my work. When I heard the front door open, I peeked over my shoulder and smiled sexily at Caleb before turning back to recheck the molding I’d recently measured.
“Hey, you’ve done enough for the day,” Caleb said. “It’s way past quitting time.”
“I know. I’m wrapping it up.” I glanced over my shoulder again and saw him slowly closing the space between us. He was wearing that damn jacket again, along with his leather driving gloves. He must’ve been ready to hop on his bike and head home when he’d noticed I was still hanging around. The sex vibe between us had been even hotter than usual that day, and as he neared me, it seemed that tonight it was going to boil over—and I was right.
Caleb gently embraced me from behind, pushing my hair to the side with one hand. His stubble felt delicious as he dragged his lips along my neck, its scratchy sensation igniting my pussy. He brought his gloved hand to my face and turned my lips toward his. He kissed me fiercely, plunging his tongue into my mouth, wrapping his other arm around me and pulling me against him. I felt the teeth of his jacket’s zipper and its chrome buckles digging into my back as he held me tight. They were a delicious contrast to the well-worn leather covering his chest and arms. His hands climbed up my torso and under my T-shirt. I was nearly ready to beg when he teased the undersides of my breasts through my bra, but there was no need. He soon pushed it up over my tits, his gloved fingers pinching and twisting my nipples until I cried out into his mouth. One of his leather-clad hands then slid down my flat stomach to unfasten my jeans and dive into my panties. I gasped when his fingers found my slit, giving my clit a cursory rub before plunging into my hole. That initial thrust literally took my breath away. I was aware of every wrinkle in the leather, every stitch on the glove’s seams, as he drove his fingers in and out of my pussy. My knees buckled slightly, and he renewed his grasp on my waist, keeping me on my feet. I was panting, never having been so turned on in my life. This late-night adventure didn’t compare to the polite, missionary-style sex I’d been having on the eyelet lace-trimmed sheets of my dorm-room bed.
Switching hands, Caleb brought his pussy-flavored hand up to my mouth. My lips parted hungrily as I took his leather-clad digits into my mouth, sucking my juice off his fingers. My senses were suffused with the medley of scents: my own desperate arousal and the heady aroma of wet leather. I moaned around his fingers as he began finger-fucking me with his other hand. I was groaning and grinding down on his extended digits, feeling an orgasm starting to swell deep inside me.
“That’s right, princess,” he growled in my ear. “If you want it, take it. I want you to come all over my fingers.” His words made me shiver. No one had ever talked to me like that before! I was past the point of thinking. There, in the half-finished structure with the moonlight streaming in through the windows, I acted solely on animal instinct. My hips seemed to move of their own accord, rising and falling as I fucked myself on Caleb’s fingers. He continued murmuring dirty encouragements in my ear until I was shivering in his arms, my moans echoing off the sheetrock walls.
I was about to turn around when Caleb walked me two steps forward and bent me over a nearby sawhorse. Its wooden surface was rough and scratched my forearms, but I didn’t notice at the time. All I knew was that Caleb was pulling my jeans over my ass and down to my knees. I grabbed the sawhorse to steady myself, and with my bra pushed up over my breasts and my jeans banded around my knees, Caleb plunged his cock into me. He bent his body over mine, the scent of his jacket enveloping me as we fucked. Grabbing my shoulders, he pulled me back onto his cock over and over, and I groaned at the sensation of his gloved hands tightly clutching me. Wanting more of his hard cock, I tried to buck back toward him, but Caleb was totally in control. He wrapped one of his hands in my long, blonde hair, using it as a rein as he rode me until he came with a roar.
I continued to fuck Caleb for the rest of spring break and all through the following summer. We took quite a few road trips together, and nothing thrilled me more than riding on the back of his Harley, with my face nestled in the fragrant leather of his jacket while the vibrations of his bike tickled my pussy until I was dripping wet. We never traveled all that far because it wasn’t long before I was demanding we pull over and fuck. Caleb would toss his jacket on the grass and lay me down on it. I would wriggle on top of the butter-soft leather while he plunged his cock in and out of my cunt until we both came deliriously.
Caleb and I eventually parted ways. It was an amicable split, but from that time on, I always sought out men who could appreciate the primal eroticism of leather. Over the years, I’ve collected a stunning wardrobe of leather clothes. And though my days in the office are spent in business suits, my nights are spent luxuriating in leather with handsome men who share my passion.
—Ms. T.R., Boston, Massachusetts