She was a vision from behind. Her long curly hair fell down her back in golden-brown and raven ringlets to brush the tops of her black leather chaps. Her bottom was bare, thrust out of the tight leather leggings, round and full and firm. The bare skin was a deep, latte brown. High-heeled platform boots peeked out from beneath the bottom cuffs of the tight chaps that hugged her thighs and calves, outlining the muscles of her strong, long and slender legs.
But it was when she turned that I knew this was one I had to have, if I could. She faced my direction and nonchalantly leaned against the pillar, looking idly off at Club X’s dance floor. I could see now she wore a slave harness that been obscured by her long hair from behind. But when she turned to me I could see how the black leather straps framed her delicate breasts, making an “X” in her cleavage. In her navel she wore a large, dangling gem that shimmered in the club light as she moved her hips slowly with the rhythm of the music.
That was almost enough in itself. But there was more.
Over her loins she wore a leather jock. Its pouch was covered with black metal studs, like scales, and I could see the brass snaps around the edges. She could pull it off with a sweep of her hand. With all that gear I couldn’t tell how large her package really was, but I wanted nothing more than to find out.
I was already imagining the discovery as I slowly made my way over to her. But I was frightened almost speechless. I’m a fit good-looking guy, six-one if an inch, with blond hair and a healthy enough sun-glow, and I was not afraid of shemales. But she was something else. “Out of my league,” I thought.
I was dressed all in rubber; a latex “t” on top of a pair of “Mr. M.” black rubber codpiece pants, which hugged my thighs and ass. I looked good and, inside, the rubber was beginning grow slippery inside with the first faint hints of perspiration, which made me feel good, too. I could feel my cock strain slightl... Les hele novellen
