I don’t know why I have a thing for men in chaps, but I do.

It’s not like I ever went through a Western phase or wanted to do one of those motorcycle guys who zooms past on the freeway. It’s just that leather over the denim — or in some cases over nothing at all — really revs my engine. Explaining this desire to a new lover has become something of a hurdle for me, however. Most of your average businessmen — the types I find myself drawn to in the dating world — don’t have chaps hanging in their closet. (Trust me, I’ve checked.)

This is why I was grateful when my friend Gina decided to make her birthday celebration a costume party. I was dating a man named Mitch, and I tossed the idea to him for us to go as a matched pair — that we should pick a costume theme fit for a duo.

He liked the concept, but he wanted a specific example. “You could go as a cowboy,” I suggested, silently hoping he’d agree. He nodded, considering the idea and stoking my secret desire.

“That wouldn’t be too difficult. I’d just need a plaid shirt, a hat, a bandanna…”

“And chaps!” I interjected. My voice had gone up a level. The words came out more like a squeal.

“Chaps,” he mused. “Really?”

“The thing is,” I said, “I’ve always wanted… I mean, I’ve always fantasize about…”

“About what?” He stepped closer to me, tangling a hand in my long dark hair and pulling me in for a kiss.

“Fucking a man in chaps,” I confessed breathlessly after we broke apart. “And blowing him, you know, while he only has chaps on.”

The idea inspired Mitch. We went out that weekend and bought our costumes. For the party, I went in cutoffs and a bandana-printed halter. I styled my hair in twin braids. I even wore fringed boots. He did the dude-ranch thing, with a cowboy hat and faded jeans topped by beautiful chaps.

We didn’t last long at the party. We were there, and then we weren’t, the two of us desperate to get back to his place and fuck. The first thing we did when we were alone was assess each other. He looked me up and down. I lovingly stroked him through the chaps. Then I said, “Please, take the jeans off and put the chaps back on.” That’s what I wanted most. He honored my request, but even as he stripped and redressed, he clued me in to his needs.

“You don’t take off anything,” he said. I heard him, but I didn’t pay much attention. My eyes were captivated by the sight of him in those chaps with nothing on beneath. His cock was a hard, steel rod. My pussy was a river of wetness.

Mitch grabbed me and bent me over the bed. I could feel the leather of the chaps rubbing against my legs. He lowered my cutoffs but left them on, bunched across my thighs. He tugged at my braids and grunted nonsense words as he speared my pussy with his dick. I caught sight of the two of us in a nearby mirror. We didn’t quite look like a real cowboy and cowgirl, but we definitely looked different from our normal selves. Mitch pumped into me a few times, and once I was certain his shaft was thoroughly slickened with my juices, I pulled away from him and spun around.

“What’s up, little filly?” he murmured.

“I need to suck your cock,” I answered. He didn’t push back on that idea at all. In fact, he pushed forward, eager for me to get on my knees.

I did what I’d fantasized about doing for so long. I opened my mouth and took in his thick dick. His fragrant staff was coated with my heady nectar, and I savored our combined flavors, as well as the scent of the leather. Mitch let me get my bearings before setting the pace by thrusting forward and back as I worked to drain him. The best part of the position for me was placing my hands on his thighs and feeling the smooth hide against my palms. Mitch hadn’t chosen a cheap costume. As soon as he’d found out I had a fetish for chaps, he’d made an investment. The texture and aroma of the leather were making me so hot I found myself desperate to climax. I thrust a hand between my thighs and worked my clit as I gobbled his cock.

When Mitch was on the cusp on coming, he told me to bend over the bed again. I tugged my cutoffs down and over my boots, giving him unfettered access to my bare snatch. He felt for himself how wet I’d gotten from blowing him. There was a moment of silence between us, and then he gripped my hips and inserted his dick between my juicy nether lips once more. When he hit bottom, I was rewarded with not only the satisfying feeling of being stuffed full of cock, but also the sensation of smooth leather rubbing against my naked flesh.

I bucked and whinnied, but Mitch held me in place with his strong grip.

“That’s my baby,” he said as he felt my pussy contract with vise-like spasms, clutching and releasing his dick. “You like feeling the leather against your skin?”

I told him I did — but not so much with my voice. Words had all but left me. I moaned and sighed, and he spiraled his hips so that his cock massaged all those miraculous places inside me. He worked me harder than he ever had before. Dressing in costume had turned him on as much as it did me. When I was close to coming, I pulled forward and repositioned myself on my back so Mitch could take me missionary-style. He pressed himself as tightly to me as possible, making sure the chaps caressed my quivering legs. He let me ride out my climax before pulling out and showering my belly and thighs with his hot load.

“I never told you,” he confessed as he rubbed his semen into my skin, “I’ve always wanted to fuck a cowgirl.”

I couldn’t help but grin. We’d roped two fetishes in one go, and I was sure we’d break out those chaps again soon.