I came home from work and found my girlfriend, Karen, waiting for me. It was not the first time. Although we were still living apart, our relationship being rather young, I was not surprised to find her there. She had the key, and was welcomed as often as she wanted. 

She would often come to use my computer to work on her Psychology Degree, because it’s more powerful than hers, and that I have high speed internet.

So, I was not surprised to find her there. And when she does, she usually does one of her incredible recipes, and I would surely not pass this one on.

She was wearing her usual relaxed fit jeans and sneakers, as well as an extra-large t-shirt. She had a pretty face and a wonderful body, but she was not the kind to show it too much by wearing tight fitting clothes.

We hugged and kissed, and I headed off for a much-needed shower. I came out a while later, all freshen up and shaved, and we kissed again, but I felt that there was something wrong. It was not her usual kiss.

We sat at the dining table and started to eat. As usual, what she had prepared was awesome. We talked about our day, how it went, and where she was in her studies, the upcoming exams, etc. But then again, I felt there was something wrong. No, we haven’t been together long enough to be able to read each-other’s mind, but I could feel when she was holding something up. So I went ahead.

“Is there something wrong, Karen?” I asked. “You don’t seem to be acting as usual.”

“Well, yes, there’s something wrong,” she finally said, softly, “but I don’t know how to bring it up.”

“Well, just spit it out.” I said. “We’ll work from there.”

“Well, when I went to your computer, the word processor was open and there was what appeared to be some kind of unfinished text, and I couldn’t help myself to read it. And there was also the web browser open to some kind of tight jeans and rubber site. Are… are you the Pete that writes all those stories?”

I blushed, and completely lost my appetite. What should I answer? By now, she had probably browsed the computer hard drive and found a whole bunch of stories, many of them half written. I couldn’t get out of it by saying that I was only reading them, not writing them. And what about the tight jeans site: I had it on my hard drive. I had to come true to her.

“Well, yes. That’s me. I admit it; I have tight jeans and latex fetishes. I hope you’re not too mad at me.” I said, almost with tears in my eyes. “Now, you probably think of me as some kind of sexual pervert.”

“Well, I was shocked when I found that for sure. I mean, I always thought I was good enough for you the way I am, and all that rubber stuff is kind of… weird.”

“You are, you are!” I quickly answer “You are the love of my life…”

“But would it be better if I was wearing stuff like the Karen in your stories.”

What to answer. If I was to say no, she would say “Then why do you write stuff like that” and if I was to say yes she would answer “So, I’m not good enough for you.” I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I decided to play the truth. If I was going to get dumped, at least I wouldn’t feel guilty of not playing the truth.

“Yes. Yes Karen it would be better if you were dressed like that. But keep in mind that these stories are fantasies, not reality.” I said, trying my best not to generate a fight. “Those situations are pretty extreme and most are unreal, you know.”

“Yes, I notice that.” She said. “But you would find me more appealing if I was wearing, say, tight jeans?”

“Yes I would.”

“So it’s only objectifying, right?”

“At some level, yes. But speaking of objects, the first time I approached you, would you have received me with the same attitude if I weren’t getting off a shiny sports car? If I had been introducing myself besides an old beat-up rusty smoke producing car instead of my shiny tuned one, would you have had the same interest in me?”

I knew I had her. She was a car babe. She liked shiny sports cars with chromed wheels and loud sound systems.

“I… Well, that’s not the same.”

“Really? The only difference is that I don’t wear the shiny car, I ride in it.”

We were saved by the bell. The phone bell that is. Karen answered her cell phone and the subject quickly changed. It was directed to her term papers. Once the call finished, she asked me for some help, which I gladly gave.

We were sitting side to side, looking at the computer screen. I was unconsciously rubbing her left thigh with my right hand. Softly, with her right hand, she took the loose jeans and pulled on it, squeezing it in her fingers, making it tighter along her thigh. I notice the difference.

“Better this way?” she asked, without taking her eyes off the computer screen.

“Yes.” I said. “Better this way.”

Of course, she had to let it go to punch keys on the keyboard, but she had me turned on.

We finished the work late and we aimed directly to bed where we quickly fell asleep. The next morning, she was gone before I was up. She had an early class. I got up, poured myself a cup of coffee and headed for my computer to check my e-mail. I startled at the screen.

She had put a new background image. Obviously, she had browsed my hard drive and made a mosaic of six pictures: three of buts in the tightest jeans, and three in gleaming rubber catsuits. The image was signed: Love, Karen.

It was chaotic at work. So much that I was aiming at doing overtime, so I sent her a text message on her cell phone stating that I would only go back home late.

I was nevertheless surprised to see her car in the parking lot when I got home and I was even more surprised by what I saw when I opened the door.

In front of me was standing the most gorgeous woman. She was wearing a shiny black, very tight latex leotard with long sleeves. It was very shiny and was showing her ample breasts under a new light, I might say. She was also wearing one of the tightest pairs of faded blue jeans I’ve ever seen. It was so tight that you could see the darker denim from the side seams that were ready to split open. Her waist, which was already thin, was even thinner with the addition of a black leather corset under the jeans, but over the latex leotard.

She was standing on top of two inches black platform sandals with six inches heels. A bright red ball gag was hanging loosely by the leather strap around her neck. She turned on herself to show me all the sides of her outfit. The jeans were so tight that only one crease line was visible below each bun. 

Although I was exhausted, I had an immediate erection, and she noticed it.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Anything you like?”

“Wow!” That was all I could come up with.  

“You should see your face.” She said laughing which made her shiny boobs gently bounce, reflecting the light of the living room.

“Sorry… I wasn’t expecting this at all, I mean not that quick. You’re on a tough budget with your studies. Sure you wanted to spend that much on this? I mean, I could have waited.” I said, not able to take my eyes off that beautiful sight in front of me.

“Spend that much in a day? Are you nuts? The thing is that I owned all of this before I met you. I never wore any of it in public tho. When you came to me, I was wearing casual clothes, I thought that you preferred casual women instead of the sexy ones, so I hid everything I was wearing it privately and kept only the casual stuff. Until I discovered your secret life, that is.”

“The sexy car babes? Yes, some were very interesting, but I got attracted to you especially because you didn’t tried to be a sex magnet. I could tell that you were a car babe, but not like the others.”

“That’s right. I’m not like the others.” She said with an evil smile. 

Then with a planned gesture, she made the glass of water besides her fall on the floor.

“Oh. I’m such a bad girl.” She said, putting her right index finger into the strap of the gag and handing me a pair of handcuffs from her left hand. “I think I should be punished for that.” She said, blinking her wonderful eyes with an evil smile.

I took the cuffs…

© Pete / monsterp63, July 24, 2006