I possess a passion for patent leather. Perhaps the word “passion” isn’t even strong enough to describe the love affair I maintain with this shiny type of material.

My closet overflows with jackets, pants, and skirts in a rainbow of colors, all slippery to the touch. Usually, I save those special clothes for weekends. My office co-drones would not necessarily understand or appreciate the way my heart flutters for such shiny garments.

But sometimes the world plays tricks on you. Sometimes the universe seems to laugh at your desires. Today — while I was dressed in an office-appropriate suit made of office-appropriate material — wherever I looked, I spied patent leather. It was as if the world had decided to play a cruel kinky joke on me.

The truth is that I’m not simply a fan. I’m a fanatic. Patent leather turns me on — a lot. At lunch, walking past the store windows was a nightmare. On display was a pair of thigh-high boots made of patent leather. Around the corner, a different boutique showcased a patent-leather purse. Even on the covers of fashion magazines, patent leather was clearly the new black. And black patent leather? That seemed to be the new-new black.

On the subway home, the woman across from me crossed her legs and I saw the patent leather boots flash beneath the hem of her long coat.

Damn. Double damn. I was the crazy girl on the subway trying not to drool. Even that thought was hurting my head. Because I wanted to lick my way up one boot and down the other.

I couldn’t wait to get home. To my own closet of wonders. It took all of my willpower to make it there in a respectful manner. Once inside my place, it was a whole different story. My girlfriend was already home, and she was cooking dinner in the kitchen, oblivious to my needs. I gave her a cursory kiss and then hurried to my mission: head-to-toe transformation. Off went the dull business suit. On went the patent-leather bustier. Off came the loafers, the slacks, the hose. On went the tight-fitting, form-caressing skirt with the zip up one side and chrome buckles on the other.

Sonia entered the room while I was zipping into my own special boots.

“What have we here?” she asked, tilting her head in that way she does, taking in the change I’d made since walking through our front door.

“We have me,” I said, spinning so she could catch every glossy angle.

“Oh, yes, we do.” She came forward, and I held my breath. She clearly sensed what I needed. We’ve been together long enough for her to understand, for her to not only accept but encourage my desires. Her palms stroked me through the glistening fabric. I groaned and felt my body begin to relax. It was happening. It was going to happen. I was going to get off in my gear, and Sonia was going to help.

“I’m a fanatic. Patent leather turns me on — a lot.”

She kissed me and led me to the bed, then had me make myself comfortable on my back. “You look like a present waiting to be unwrapped,” she said. “But I’m not going to unwrap you. I’m going to touch you all over, stroke you, feel you. As if I’m trying to guess what my present contains.”

Oh, yes, her lovely words were working for me, as they always do. Sonia knows that I don’t need to be naked, don’t want to be naked. The best sexy thing for me is to be dressed in some form of patent leather and have her make love to me while I’m all tricked up. The loveliest part is that Sonia appreciates this fetish of mine. Although when we first got together, she didn’t fully understand the breadth of my desires. Now that she does, she flames them, fans them, ignites every last one.

While I lay there, floating, Sonia rubbed me and touched me. An orgasm built deep within me. I felt myself gaining on the pleasure. I’d been in a tormented state all day. Now, I was going to get mine.

With a flick of her wrist, she unzipped me.

My heart sank. Were we done? Was our encounter over? I shouldn’t be so greedy, I decided. Maybe Sonia wanted to do something else. Maybe she had her own fetish to share. And then she went to my closet and pulled out my patent leather catsuit. “Why don’t you squirm into this?” she offered. “It’s all I’ve thought about today, I swear. It’s like the universe was tempting me. Patent leather in every store window. Patent leather on every stranger. On the subway, even.”

I grinned to myself as I slid into the catsuit, pleased to be united with another member of the tribe of patent-leather lust. We stroked one another and squirmed together on the bed until the intensity became too much to bear. My pussy was dripping wet, and my girlfriend knew it. She unzipped my suit, keeping the garment on my quivering limbs but giving her access to my snatch. Now nude, Sonia positioned herself on top of me in a sexy 69, rubbing her naked body against my patent leather-clad form as we went to work on each other’s slits. Hearing the creaking sound of the material as we writhed turned me on even more. I ground my pussy against my girlfriend’s face as I worked my tongue along her seam in a sexual frenzy.

Fueled by our mutual desire, we brought each other to the brink and then fell over. Our orgasmic cries were muffled and distorted by the wet pussies at our lips, but we continued pleasuring each other until our climaxes had decimated us, knowing that our night was only beginning.  

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