Leather Story: Back in Black

This story was inspired by a woman I encountered when travelling on the London underground railway in May 2004. It has proven to be the most successful erotic story I have written. Since being posted on Literotica in June 2004 it has been accessed on over 45,000 occasions. I do not know if it stems from the fact that it was based on a real person in real locations. Feedback suggests people have welcomed its authenticity. I even had an email from a woman called Geraldine from London whose husband was called Peter, though she did not say if she now behaved or dressed this way, though in my response, I encouraged her at least to try out such an outfit. It may be due to the comparative lack of stories featuring mature women compared to those in their 20s and 30s. Anyway, whatever the reason this has been a surprisingly popular story and I often wonder if the woman who inspired it has ever read it.

Back in Black

Geraldine Hopkins walked slowly along the platform of the Leicester Square underground station looking up at the indicator board for a train to take her home to her flat in Kentish Town. She saw she had a ten-minute wait, which was not bad. It was not yet eleven, and the platform, though busy, was not packed and a lot of people were still heading up the escalators to the delights of the West End of London rather than going home. Geraldine glanced around, noticing a few people looking at her: a couple of men and a woman seem to be interested in what she was wearing. Though she had made great strides today, Geraldine was still a little self-conscious of how she appeared and took a few steps along the platform, feeling even more aware of the leathers she wore than before.

The way she had dressed had all been part of her marking a change. She knew the outfit she wore was not that rare for a woman of her age, early forties, it was usually when a woman reached that age that she could afford to dress like this. Younger women preferred the distressed denims anyway. Though it might be acceptable, Geraldine did feel such an outfit did say something about the woman who dressed like that and how she saw herself. Trying to avoid anyone's gaze she looked down at herself, the smooth black leather boots had a heel, but nothing too outrageous.

The black leather jacket, unfussy, collarless, stretching to just above her waist was common enough for women of all ages in London these days. Maybe it was combining it with the trousers that made the difference. The black leather trousers were snug without being skin-tight. She liked the lack of pockets that would have confused things and how the leather smoothly skimmed her bum, its size and shape she was particularly proud of, the result of sensible eating and exercise. The outfit was completed by a white ribbed top, that again gently showed off her assets without over-emphasising them.

Geraldine had put on jewellery for today's trip out, a couple of necklaces and a few of her rings, though markedly there was not one on the third finger of her left hand. That had been bare since that night three-and-a-half years ago when Peter's adultery had been confirmed to her. She supposed it had made a change for him to run off with the boss, rather than the secretary, and maybe she had to update her views on how the world worked. Partly that had been what today had been about. Today was the second anniversary of the divorce coming through, and, unlike last year she had not sat at her home drinking herself silly, poring over old photos and memories. This year she had had a fun day out.

It had been a pity that Ally was out of town on holiday. Her best friend's marriage was still going strong. However, Geraldine had been determined to have a good time even if on her own and maybe she would not have been so bold with her outfit if Ally had been along. Geraldine had done some shopping, a few indulgences: some jewellery, a nice silk camisole and then tea in an expensive store before a good musical and a tasty Chinese dinner in Soho. Planning it all she had felt courageous and brought together the nice leathers she had assembled on bored weekends over the year. She had never worn them altogether except in front of the mirror and it had been with butterflies in her stomach that she had slipped on the jacket and closed her front door behind her. She had walked briskly to the underground station worried she would run into one of her neighbours, convinced she had become a fallen woman.

They were only clothes after all, Geraldine told herself, but then again were not clothes a reflection of the person in them? That thought gave Geraldine the tingle that had returned a couple of times through the day. The way the soft smooth leather slid over itself, between her arm and body as she reached for something; between her thighs as she walked; the sound of her heels distinct on the tarmac; the rich aroma; the gentle creak as she moved. There was something about leather than no other material had. Beyond that, though, Geraldine knew this outfit was aksi making a statement.

The material may have sexual overtones, but it was tough too. This may be a woman whose bum was comfortably held by shiny leather, but this was a woman too who would strut up to you and speak directly, an independent woman you would not mess with, whether she wanted to see a particular ring, a table in a restaurant or a seat in the theatre. Geraldine loved all those things that she felt her clothes said about her, so unlike the demure woman she had been with Peter. She thought of those shapeless skirts he liked, those blouses that made her look a decade older, and his whole attitude, making her the obedient, compliant wife whilst he lusted after his thrusting (in both senses of the word, no doubt), power-suited boss.

"Can I just say something?" The question came from a man standing just a couple of steps away on the platform.

Geraldine looked up, suddenly her confidence fading. Her mind buzzed with possible scenarios. Was he talking to her? Was he some wino, so common on the underground, about to launch into a bid to beg money? Geraldine looked at him, smiling, the approach she felt would cover any possible outcome.

The man took her look as a 'yes'. "Can I just say, your outfit looks really cool."

"Thank you, thanks, that's nice." Geraldine flushed suddenly and looked away, her eyes fixed firmly on the rails in front of her. As she felt the blush go from her cheeks she looked back, curiosity burning inside her too strongly for her not to do so.

The man was taller than average, probably around six foot exactly. Geraldine was tallish for a woman and so was only five or six inches shorter. The man was probably five or six years younger than her. She wondered what had led him to make the comment. Like herself, he wore glasses. Geraldine's were totally rimless and gave her face a luminance, enhancing the blue eye-shadow her lids wore. His were more rectangular, only framed along the top, giving him a look that mixed seriousness with a relaxed attitude. Geraldine was glad for an instant that he was no tramp and did not appear a psycho. He wore a black moleskin jacket, a blue pullover and beige trousers, all pretty relaxed, reasonably stylish, not down-at-heel, not ostentatious either. Geraldine glanced at his face, quite long, but filling out as he aged. His hair was short, cut close to the scalp, but again in a fashionable way without the hint of the military or some institution.

"Sorry, don't you like compliments?" The man asked.

Geraldine stuttered for a moment. She had guessed his first question had come from some drunken whim, but now he spoke again he seemed sober enough, focused on her, rather than what was running through his mind.

"Erm, I'm not used to them." Geraldine answered honestly.

"That's a surprise, you deserve them." The man answered, his confidence growing, he turned from the standard platform posture of facing the tracks to facing her.

Geraldine wondered at the man's motives. Was he just playing with her to pass the time? Was he trying to chat her up? Was he about to suggest she join some cult or invest in some company? Was he actually a psycho who cruised the underground looking for victims? Countering that, Geraldine felt flattered. Her plan seemed to have worked, how she had dressed herself seemed to be giving out some signals that she was a single woman, not keen on remaining like that for too long.

"Oh." Geraldine replied, her mind void of a more elaborate response.

"Sorry, I should get out of this habit."

"What habit?"

"Striking up conversations with women on public transport."

"Right."

"When I saw you, it was sort of automatic."

"Automatic? Why?" With every sentence they exchanged Geraldine was worried he would ruin it with his sales pitch or something scary.

"I like to see women dressed in leather, I like to encourage them."

"So it's not me that you're interested in, just my clothes?" Geraldine asked, a little irritated.

"No." The man replied quickly. "A sexy woman looks sexy, but in my view leathers just add that finishing touch." He paused. "If I'd walked up and said 'Do you mind if I say how sexy you look?', you'd have run down the platform shouting for the police."

"Point taken." Geraldine said, smiling, sure there was another compliment in the man's explanation. "So, this is something you do most Saturdays? Standing around on the underground complimenting women in leathers?"

"No." This time the man seemed a little more hesitant. "This is the first time."

"Why this time? How much have you had to drink?"

"Nothing. I'm going up to Finchley to collect my car, then it's up the M1 back to Buckinghamshire."

"I see. What were you doing in London?" Geraldine felt she had taken the initiative.

"To buy some presents, to see a movie, it makes a difference on the big screen. I hate Buckinghamshire, I used to live in London, I prefer it down here." he gabbled out his answer, but then took a breath. "Anyway, the women down here are sexier." He looked across at her to see her response

Geraldine nervously brushed her fair, shoulder length hair back from her face. This man was certainly candid, but something about the way he spoke seemed right. She was at a loss what to say next, and fortunately the train arrived and she could focus on getting on board. Geraldine turned right, heading to where she could see a free seat at the end of the carriage. She tried to stop herself looking around to see where the man had gone.

Geraldine sat down. Initially resting her black handbag on her lap, but then putting it down by her feet. She realised she was trying to distract herself from the excitement she was feeling. She recognised the fact that the man's interest had thrilled her. As she straightened up from putting her bag on the floor her eyes connected with his. He was sat opposite and smiled quite sweetly at her.

Geraldine could not stop herself blushing again and gave a brief, and she hoped, dismissive, smile back again. She had been told that men got the message these days, a smile was a put-down, showing clearly that the woman was not interested. Was she interested? What would happen if she was? Geraldine had no idea what to do. She looked back at the man for a clue. There was the smile again, and Geraldine felt strangely reassured. Without noticing she brushed her hands across her neck as if it were tired and then rested her palms on her leather covered thighs. The feel beneath her fingers of the soft, smooth leather, warmed by her body heat, felt so good. Suddenly she felt guilty, had she not been sending out a signal by dressing like this? Was not the act of dressing from head to toe in butter-smooth black leather itself some sort of sign? She dismissed that, it was only a sign that she was a fashionable, independent woman, pleased with her body, and determined to get what she wanted and only what she wanted.

"I'm Andy." The man said, clearly keen to get the conversation started again.

"Geri." Geraldine replied, intentionally using the name Peter had loathed.

"Nice." The man laughed, and that seemed to show Geraldine that he clearly hoped this would go further, but did not know how to advance it. It was up to her now.

The train was momentarily noisy as passengers got on and off at Euston. Geraldine knew the stops very well, but nervously glanced up at the map above the seats opposite counting down the stations to Kentish Town.

"Have you lived in London long?"

"Since I was a student. Tottenham, Hammersmith..."

"Now Kentish Town." Andy said as if emphasising the point that the time was passing quickly, heading towards the moment when they would have to make a decision. He then seemed irritated with himself for cutting her off, and slumped back as if defeated.

Geraldine knew Andy was hesitant, not daring to believe anything much could come of a chance encounter. Geraldine also knew she had to make a decision. She looked Andy over again. He was clean, he was polite, no paunch hung above his belt, and she was sure that under that shirt was some firm flesh. She chided herself, she should not think like that, not measure the man up like a meat in the butcher's. Why not? She had to be honest, she was thinking of the potential for sexual pleasure, weighing it up against the potential for danger. Yet did that not give it a little more edge? Had she not partly made the decision this morning when she had eased her shower-clean legs into the leather trousers, slipped on the top which was not loose, but clung, stepped into the boots with the heel, and selected the jacket that matched rather than contrasted the leather of the trousers? Had she not been saying she was a woman in control, one who had sexual tastes, one who could choose? That was the rub, what did she choose?

Mornington Crescent. No-one got on, no-one got off. She looked back over at Andy. His smile had faded, he looked serene, reading the advertisements above her head. It seemed clear that he had given up hope of this going anywhere. She could see him thinking 'nice, sexy woman, had a brief chat with her, certainly would have liked to get to know her better, to bed her, but that's life, it's all too hesitant these days' or something like that. Geraldine wondered if he would fantasise about what might have happened. That shook her. Would she fantasise about what might have happened as she lay back in her bed later tonight? More accurately would she fantasise about what she could have let, no, made, happen? For a moment Geraldine told herself it could just be a cup of coffee, a quiet chat back at her flat, but knew that was foolish. He would be polite if that was all that he got, Geraldine knew that. She was savvy enough to recognise a 'new man' at a hundred paces. What Geraldine was focusing on now, was would that be all she would settle for? She almost felt like shouting out to the carriage: 'what do I want?'.

The train stopped at Camden Town, with large numbers of teenagers milling around the platform whilst others from this train pushed in amongst them, seeking out the excitement the bars and venues of the district offered. Now the carriage was quieter. Geraldine looked over, Andy's eyes were closed, as if he were meditating, or she hoped, as if he were fixing her image in his mind. She looked to the left of him where her image was reflected in the train window. She saw a sexy woman dressed in black leather, her hair, her make-up, stylish, maybe a little provocative. She did not see Geraldine Hopkins, but a woman knowing the evening was pretty young and that sex was on offer if she wanted it, for the taking, on her terms. As the train pulled out of Camden Town, Geraldine stood up, smoothing out the leather around her thighs and bum, straightening the matching jacket. She walked to stand by the door, but slowly, teasingly, looked back to Andy. His eyes were still closed and that irritated her, the least he could be doing was looking at her, trying to persuade her a little more. She wondered if she had been wrong to think well of him.

The train stopped at Kentish Town and the door opened with its heavy sigh. Andy's eyes flicked open. He looked across at where Geraldine had sat, an expression of acceptance mixed with disappointment on his face.

Were men idiots? Geraldine asked herself as she looked firmly at him, over her shoulder. Knowing she had only seconds she leapt forward and grabbed Andy's right hand, almost pulling him physically through the door. As they staggered on to the platform, the train door closed and the electric engines' moan began rising again and in moments the train was gone.

Geraldine could feel her heart racing. As yet the reality of what she had done had not penetrated her mind. She needed to keep up momentum and still with Andy's hand in her grasp she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in tight, her mouth hungry, kissing across his cheek until their lips locked and Geraldine eased her tongue between unresisting teeth. At the taste of him, she knew she had made the right decision.

Geraldine loved the sensation of pushing her body against Andy's, the snug sensation multiplied, by the pressure of his chest against her breasts as he breathed. For a moment, Geraldine fancied stripping him down here, she could feel his cock pushing hard against his trousers as her hand on his back pressed him against her. She gasped as he gripped her buttocks in his hands, lifting her up into him, bringing the leather harder against her flesh.

Whilst Geraldine was enjoying the instant, snatched nature of what was happening, a desire was growing within her for more. She knew she had to have Andy strip her from her clothes and lick her naked body. She broke from the kiss and almost pulled him along the platform. Geraldine was clearly leading the way. The ticket barriers were open and they were soon out in the street heading towards Geraldine's flat. She stopped at the end of her road, to refresh the taste she had of Andy's tongue on her own. As they came nearer to the flat, not speaking, Geraldine could feel a deeper heat building within her that she recognised as a true arousal, this was going to be more than a snog when the pub had closed. She realised that, after so many years without sex with another, she was lusting after this man, he was more than suitable to be Mr. Right Now.

Geraldine tried to calm herself as she fumbled in her handbag for her keys. She did not want to put Andy off by appearing nervous, though she was as eager as a teenager to be closing hard with him. The door opened and the two of them staggered into the hallway. In seconds Geraldine was pressed against the wall, her smooth leather skidding up it as Andy drove in hard, his hands groping, stroking wherever they could. Geraldine let herself rise and hooked her legs behind him, crossing her booted feet. She loved the way her black leather sheathed legs stretched to entrap him. Andy stumbled but carried her successfully through into the living room, and with a delicacy lowered her onto the couch. Yet, Geraldine would not let him go, pulling him on to her with hands and legs, almost mewing in pleasure as his body slid easily across the leather, through the circle of her legs so that his weight rested comfortably on her. Immediately his lips and tongue probed around Geraldine's neck giving her the most delightful of shivers.

Geraldine began tearing at his jacket, then plunged her fingers under his pullover to let them roam on his warm, firm body. It felt so good to have impassioned skin in her grasp, all these sensations she had fantasised of in the past few years, felt so much better in reality. Andy fumbled to get his top off, but Geraldine tore it from him, so glad he had worn something practical that gave her quick access not like the boring buttoned and collared shirts Peter had favoured. Geraldine impatiently snatched at his belt and pulled it free, and as he rained kisses on her face and neck, Geraldine had his chinos half off.

A thought came into Geraldine's mind. This experience had to be savoured. Her initial hunger was sated, and she knew she had Andy for the night. With little grunts and prodding from her legs she pushed him off the couch and into a standing position, with his trousers round his ankles. Geraldine looked at his expression, worried it would be disgruntled, but it seemed more curious, even eager, to find out what Geraldine did next.

"Finish it off." Geraldine commanded breathlessly.

To Geraldine's satisfaction Andy got the message and within moments had shed his shoes and socks, disentangled himself from his trousers and removed his underpants. Geraldine sat there, running her eyes over his naked body, lingering on his erect member, looking forward to feeling it inside her. Geraldine stretched out one black shiny leg and with the toe of her boot prompted Andy to turn slowly, as she admired his shapely bum.

"Keep turning." Geraldine ordered and Andy obeyed slowly.

Geraldine realised how hot she felt, but was reluctant to shed her leather. She slipped off her jacket, then quickly tugged the top over her head to reveal the crimson silk bra below. She slipped the jacket back on, loving the cool feel of it against her bare arms, and the similar, tantalising sensation of her necklaces riding on her bare cleavage.

Geraldine stood and walked slowly, accentuating her steps as if she was a horse at a dressage exercise, placing the toe of her booted foot on the floor then following with her weight on to its heel. Andy became impatient and lunged forward, quickly running his hands beneath the jacket to release Geraldine's bra and, as it fell to the floor, latching his tongue on to a hard nipple, his hand rolling the other between his fingers. Geraldine threw back her head in delight, speech was difficult, and after initial embarrassment she let her words be replaced by moans of pleasure as Andy sensitively, but with strength, sought out her pleasure centres. He lowered himself to his knees and quickly unzipped Geraldine's trousers. Reaching his fingers inside her found her silk panties dark with her juice. His fingers pulled the thin silk aside allowing his tongue long strokes across Geraldine's mound. Geraldine gasped, she was panting, wondering when the sensations would stop, but then his moist tongue connected with Geraldine's erect, starving clitoris and she felt a charge emanate from her sex, rocking her body.

Geraldine staggered back and sat down on the couch with a bump, but Andy was not discouraged and crawled on his knees to her so he could continue his work. Geraldine swung one leg over his right shoulder then the other over his left, again loving the sight of her perfectly leather clad legs pulling this man into her sex. That was the last rational thought Geraldine had as Andy's head nudged up her leathered crotch, skimming easily across the shiny material until his tongue was again in place, running round the lips of her sodden pussy, returning savagely to her clitoris, pushing Geraldine further and further. She was now nothing more than a creature of sweat, of leather, of wordless sounds, of sexual juices, of pleasure. Then the final piece slipped into place as Geraldine let herself live for the instant, unconcerned with anything except what she was experiencing. Her head disappeared into white light, waves of sensation sweeping up her body, centred on her pussy, her clit, but shooting out throughout every fibre of herself.

As her breathing slowed and Geraldine's body returned to some kind of normality, she felt an eagerness. Part of her said she should be grateful, part of her that she should not retain the favour, but the side of her which was now a sexual predator, had had its appetite whetted and its desire to feast some more became dominant. Geraldine unhooked her legs and lent forward pushing Andy back to standing. Slowly she stretched herself in a deliberately feline gesture then stood, thrusting Andy with her hands against the wall. His cock was hard, glistening in the low light. Geraldine raised herself on tiptoes and with after a few moments of jostling impaled herself on his rock hard flesh. It slid so easily into her loose, juicy pussy and Geraldine began shifting, rocking, to get the best sensations from it. Geraldine kissed Andy's sweat covered body, trailing her tongue over him, pulling herself back if she felt he was becoming too aroused, then thrusting again when he was calmed, slapping her leather covered body against him as she came in hard once again so that his knob could dig deep within her.

"Please, please." Andy's voice came weakly, and Geraldine knew what she wanted, but she stepped away, leaving him resting against the wall. He was hesitant, but then as he reached for his cock with his hands, Geraldine yelped at him.

"No!" She screeched; she was the one in control.

Geraldine stepped closer and guided Andy's fingers to massage her pussy lips, to stroke at her clitoris for the few moments it took her to become ready. Then she eased herself back on to Andy's flesh, taking only seconds for the sensation of his cock inside her and his body pressed hard against her aroused nipples for her to explode once more. Her coming triggered Andy's and Geraldine felt she was draining him of life as he slumped, seemingly sucked dry by what Geraldine had done to him.

Geraldine stepped back, so highly aroused not just by the sex she had had, but the realisation that she stood here clad in black like a mistress with Andy before her as her naked toy. She retreated to the sofa and lounged back. Wearily Andy watched her. Geraldine ran her hands over herself, smoothing the leather of her trousers, blemished by Andy's spunk. Smiling, she gestured him over to her and pointed to one patch of sperm. He hesitated but got the message and slowly licked the leather clean. Geraldine pointed out another and Andy went to work. Delighted, Geraldine knew she was building towards yet another great orgasm. It had certainly been an excellent Saturday.


Epilogue
The underground train was busy as Geri stepped on board. She was dressed in a new outfit, a cropped maroon leather jacket sat over the suede bustiere which hugged her shapely breasts. It matched the maroon leather pencil skirt which ran sleek and tight to her knee. Geri loved the smooth taut single sheet of leather stretched tightly across her thighs and ran her fingers delicately over it. Sensuous stockings emerged from beneath the leather but soon disappeared into the sharp-heeled, knee-high boots she wore. Catching her reflection in glass of the train, Geri smiled. Close by was a tall man, probably in his late forties, thick, long blond hair tied back from his face, his body encased in black biker leathers. Geri set him as her target and shifted at each stop until she was hanging from the rail faced towards him, the expanse of maroon leather skirt just inches from his lips. As the train jerked, starting away from a station, Geri let herself be thrown forward. She shuddered with pleasure as she felt the man's hand steady her waist and with her free hand she entrapped it there, pinned between her fingers and the smooth leather she loved so much.

A little surprised, the man looked up, and as his eyes locked on Geri's she slowly ran her tongue over her russet-painted lips. She could see her flat was going to have another first-time visitor tonight.

THE END.