Karen – Leather Day

4.7
(3)

She was slowly breathing, in long breath. Each time she was breathing in, she was filled with the strong musk scent of leather and each time her breath was expelled, she slowly waved her body, pulling hard on the leather garment, to get it in place.

Slowly, inch by inch, the tight leather jeans crawled up her legs. One more pull, then another one, until the crotch seam was resting firmly on her crotch, even digging in, showing a nice cameltoe.

Putting her arms by her side, she relaxed a little. Her stretchy very tight fitting white bodysuit was slowly raising and falling with each breath. It was so tight, it was like a second skin, even for the long arms of the suit.

After a few moments, her hands went to work again, pulling on the side of the front zipper to bring it closer together, and working the zipper up. The gap was wide, and the job was difficult. Tooth by tooth, the zipper went up. With each shaky expels of her breath, the zipper got up a few notches until, finally, it reached the top. The button was fastened and she let her arms fall on her sides.

She relaxed. The hardest part was done. But then again, the hardest part was rather to spend the day in them. But she liked it, hell, she loved it. Her left arm rose again, and she placed her fingers to her crotch, doing a little dance on the extremely tense shiny red leather, while her right hand slowly rubbed her tightly encased breasts.

She squirmed again on the soft mattress, enjoying every moment. Slowly, she got herself more and more hot, until she climaxed.

Then again, her arms went by her side. She relaxed, and tried to force herself up. After all, she had to go to work.

She had already her boots on, as she had put them on before fastening the jeans, because it was easier that way. They were below the knee high, white boots with a spiky 5 inches heel.

She grabbed her green leather jacket and put it on. It was a struggle since it was as tight on her arms as the leather jeans were on her legs.

A last look in the mirror. Her long, brown curled hairs were resting on her leather covered shoulder. Yes, the bright red and green outfit was screaming, but it was her working uniform. 

“You look just awesome, Karen.” She said to herself in the mirror with a wink.

She smiled as she reached for the door.

In another part of the city, Lynda, Karen’s best friend, was also struggling to get dressed. She was pulling hard on her green denim jeans to get them in place. She was laying on her back, on the bed, pulling one side up, then the other, all this while twisting like a snake. 

Finally, the jeans were as high as they would go. She let out a long breath, grabbed the sides of the zipper and pulled. The zipper got a quarter of the way up. Another breath out, and the zipper, and the zipper was now half the way. It took her three more tries to get it fully up. She fastened the jeans with some relief, but she smiled. The feeling of the tight denim encasing her butt and legs, the massage they were giving as she walked, were all worth the trouble. 

She got up, resting on the already fastened black kid leather platform boots. The platform was 2 inches, and the spiky heel 7 inches high. She went to the mirror and checked her white shiny spandex bodysuit for any wrinkle. There weren’t any. There couldn’t be any. It was so tight, it was like a second skin.

She grabbed her denim jacket and started to put it on. This one was made with a blend of denim and spandex, rendering it stretchable, but barely. It was still a struggle to put the tight sleeves on.

She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. It was also a work day.

Karen got off the cab and paid the astounded driver. He hasn’t often seen such a pretty sight. She entered the mall, her high heels clicking on the tiled floor, her butt twisting the tight leather. She reached the center forum, where the set was built. She was not surprised that there was already a line-up of children, all accompanied by parents, but mostly by their father.

Lynda had just arrived, and was setting up the camera. Karen took her place and the chain was removed, and the first father-child team entered. Karen welcomed the father, and took the 4y/o kid to put it closer to an old, big, fat man with a white beard, dressed in red velvet.

“Ho, ho! What do you want for Christmas, my little friend?” asked the old man.

As the little kit was asking for his wishes, the father had one fulfilled, looking at Karen’s tightly encased leather butt. He had a good view as when she took the kid, she had to turn her back on the father. 

Lynda on the other hand, working the camera, was always showing her back to the crowd, mainly composed of men, at least, behind her.

She bent down, throwing her tight green denim encased butt in the air to look at the camera’s visor. She took a picture of the kid with Santa and Karen, collected the money and handed out the print to an eager father.

After all, it was their job, they were Santa’s assistants, and Santa makes fantasies come true.

© Pete / monsterp63, November 2004.

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