The weather report was cloudy with a chance of showers.
I pulled my favorite raincoat from the back of the closet. It’s a short jacket made of black shiny vinyl that’s reminiscent of items in my closet normally reserved for playtime activities.
When Roger saw me dressed, he said, “Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?”
“Work.”
He shook his head.
“I’m not going to work?” I asked.
“Not dressed like that.”
“What’s wrong with this?”
He took a step closer to me, and then his hands were subtly caressing my body through the glossy fabric. “There’s nothing wrong with it at all,” he said. “It’s very, very right. But you can’t go out like that. You’ll give people ideas.”
“What sort of ideas?” I asked with a coy voice.
His cock was hard. I could tell. He stroked my rain gear and explained the world to me. “Anyone kinky will have instant visions…”
I checked my watch. I had a few minutes. Roger seemed to know what I was thinking.
“Take it off,” he said, “and strip off your clothes. Then put the coat back on.”
I couldn’t move fast enough. In a flash, I was naked under the raincoat. Roger wrapped his arm around my middle and bent me over enough to expose my ass. He spanked me hard and fast, his palm stinging my skin and leaving me breathless. He told me he was punishing me for dressing like a slut — for prancing around naked under my glossy little coat. I was left breathless from the pain — and the pleasure.
The spanking was over quickly, but I’d be sore for quite a while. Then Roger’s attitude softened. He was touching me once more, stroking my body and whispering about how he was going to shoot his come over my coat.
“I shut my eyes for a moment, working the two digits into my tight snatch.”
“You’ll wear that at the club tonight,” Roger said. “I’ll cuff you and lead you to the backroom.”
I was practically swooning from the way he was touching me. I couldn’t find my voice to respond. That was okay. Roger was willing to talk for the both of us.
“But I’ll give you a preview,” he said, taking off his own clothes, so that the two of us were on equal footing — aside from the rain gear.
“Touch yourself,” he instructed. I did what he told me. I found the opening between two snaps in the front of my jacket. One hand slid along my body, down to my pussy, probing my wetness with two fingers.
“Fuck yourself,” he continued. I shut my eyes for a moment, overlapping one finger on top of another and working the two digits into my tight snatch. As I touched my wet cunt, Roger palmed me through the raincoat. My body was getting hotter. The coat stuck to my sweaty skin. Roger said, “I’m going to show you what you do to me.”
I opened my eyes and watched as he jerked his fist along his stiffened rod. Outside, I could hear the rain splattering on the window panes. There was the occasional boom of thunder. Inside, where it was warm and dry, the two of us were growing wetter and stickier by the second. My rain gear felt as if it were molding to my heated skin. Roger circled me, touching me and telling me how beautiful I was in vinyl — and how he couldn’t wait to come all over me.
Then it was happening. He reached his limit, and the flood gates opened. I came as a crash of thunder shook the world. I watched as Roger shot his load all over the black vinyl, and I was already thinking about what our evening at the club would be like.
The weather report had predicted showers. But not any kind of wetness like this.