I was having a hard time dressing myself.

It hadn’t occurred to me when I’d ordered the shiny red latex garment online that someone else might have to assist me in actually getting the piece on. That really should have been in the product write-up. This dress will definitely turn heads, but be sure you have a partner to help you wriggle into it!

The dress had arrived nestled in matching tissue paper. From the moment I held the latex in my hands, I’d been turned on — like my libido was a faucet and someone had left me running. My panties were becoming damp and my palms were getting moist.

No dress had ever affected me like that before. Sure, my closet contained quite a few little black dresses, but none of them were latex. I spied a woman wearing a rubber dress at a club one night, and all I’d wanted was go over to her and rub my hands all over her shiny curves.

That obviously hadn’t been a socially acceptable option, so finding my own latex dress had seemed a logical alternative.

After a brief web search, I found advice suggesting I slicken myself up with silicone-based lubrication. With lots of lube, I had been able to squirm into the thing, but I couldn’t quite get it straightened out to look like it should. It was beyond formfitting and tighter than tight. I had a limited range of motion and felt like I could hardly breathe.

I’d fallen for the maraschino color of the dress, for the shimmery exterior. I loved how the model looked as if she had been coated in some type of syrup. It had looked wet in the pictures. It looked wet in the box. It looked wet on me.

Now, if only I could get the damn thing on right!

I was tugging and pulling, but my lube-slick hands were having trouble getting a good grip. No matter how hard I wrestled with the dress, I didn’t feel like I was getting anywhere.

Like in one of those silly TV game shows, I thought maybe I could call a friend. Maybe Beth would come over and help me out. Unfortunately, then I’d have to explain exactly why I was doing my best to impersonate the type of sex bunny you might find on a bottle of lube. Beth was a little prudish. Perhaps she was not the best person to call.

My heels clacked as I paced. But my thoughts suddenly clicked when I heard my neighbor’s motorcycle pulling into the driveway. Derrick was good with his hands. I didn’t think he’d mind offering some help. Maybe he’d want to know more about my dress, but I found I didn’t have a problem with that. Out the apartment I flew before I could reconsider.

Derrick had his key in the door. He looked at me. Then he looked at me again. I know this is called a double take. I’ve been on the receiving end of these before, but never one quite so detailed. He started at the bottom of the dress and worked his way all the way up to the top. Then he did it in reverse, starting at the top and gazing downward.

I felt ogled. I liked it!

Usually, we’d share a bit of good-natured banter between the two of us. But on this night, he seemed speechless. I considered my options.

“I’m having a problem getting this dress on right,” I said, not beating around the bush. “Could you lend a hand?”

“I’ll lend you whatever you’d like,” he quipped, eying me hungrily.

I spun, showing him the dress from all angles “I can’t get it straightened out,” I explained.

As he came toward me, I realized he’d left his keys dangling in the lock. Then I felt his hand on my waist, holding me steady as he gripped the hem and started yanking down the bunched up latex until it was all straightened out.

“How’s that?” he asked when he’d finished. I wriggled a little, feeling the smooth latex snugly embracing my form to delicious perfection. I spun around again to show off and gave him a grin.

“Perfect.”

“I think so, too,” he said.

We stood in the hall for a moment, facing each other silently.

I’d been planning to go a club where I knew my new dress would get me some major attention, but the way Derrick was looking at me gave me a different idea entirely.

“Would you like to come in for a drink?” I asked him.

“I’ll come for anything,” he said, grabbing his keys and following me into my place.

I could have pretended I really wanted a glass of merlot, I guess. I could have taken him into the kitchen and offered him whatever was in my fridge. Instead, I took him to the bedroom, because that’s where we both wanted to go, to be honest.

Derrick undressed at my insistence. I stayed clothed at his.

In the bed, I learned the delicious truth about latex: It’s slippery. Derrick had me hot and wet in moments, but every time he stroked me, his palms easily glided over the shiny surface.

“I’ve never touched anything like this,” he said, rubbing his hands all over my body.

“Touch me with your dick,” I implored him. He didn’t have a problem with that suggestion. He traced the tip of his cock up and down me, leaving a trail of pre-come in its wake. I watched in the mirror as he moved behind me and did the same, touching me with his cock all over, rubbing his balls against me. I felt as if the latex were my second skin. It muffled the sensation of being touched, but I could feel each stroke nevertheless.

“I held on to his shoulders as he steered me through a stunning orgasm.”

“I want to take you out in the rain in this dress,” he said.

I’d read that water pouring on latex felt divine. That’s how we ended up in the shower together, with the water raining down on us and me in Derrick’s arms. He shoved the dress to my hips so he could have access to my cunt, but he didn’t take the dress off me. We fucked like that, beneath the spray, growing steamy from the heat of the water and our simmering desire.

“Come on me,” I begged him. “Come all over my dress.”

He pulled his cock out of my pussy and did just that, working his hand on his big dick and then spraying me with his lust. The shower quickly washed away the white swirls of his come, and then Derrick grabbed the nozzle and angled it against my clit so the pounding, pulsing water made me climax. I held on to his shoulders as he steered me through a stunning orgasm. The water worked like magic, as I knew from experience it would.

Out of the shower, he helped me separate myself from the wet, formfitting dress. Then he hung it up over the tub to drip dry before leading me back to bed.

Maybe someday the two of us will take my dress out on the town. But that night it would simply hang from the shower rod dripping. Derrick and I decided to stay in. It was the right choice.

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