Only the Gloves

Rhea did not undress him. She gloved up.

She was forty. Tomos was thirty-seven and had asked for this after a year of ordinary sex that was good and not the thing. Leather gloves. Her hands. His cock. Nothing else on her hands until she said. He had repeated the word red like a man who meant it.

"Sit," she said.

The gloves creaked. She stroked him slow, leather dragging, and watched his mouth open. He was not allowed to touch the gloves unless she gave him a finger to suck. She gave him one. He sucked leather and groaned.

"You come when the glove says. Not before."

She jerked him mean and steady, thumb over the head, then stopped when he got close. Twice. The third time she told him to finish. He came in thick pulses over the black leather, shaking. Rhea looked at the mess on the glove and smiled.

"Lick it clean," she said. "Then I'll decide if you get my cunt or only the gloves again."

He licked. He was not in a hurry to be decided.

Rhea did not take the gloves off. She pushed Tomos onto the bed and sat on his face, leather on his chest, and came on his tongue. Then she stroked him again with the messy glove until he was hard, and sank onto his cock with the gloves still on his shoulders. He came when she said, inside her, the leather creaking at his neck. She made him lick the glove after. He did, grateful. She said next time only the gloves, no cunt, so he would remember which one he had asked for. He said he remembered. She smiled and kept them on until he left. He tasted leather in the car and got hard again at the lights.

Tomos came back for the gloves and nothing else, as threatened. Rhea jerked him in leather for twenty minutes, stopping him twice, and let him come on the black palm. He licked it. She did not fuck him. He thanked her anyway. The time after, she wore the gloves and rode him, leather on his throat, and he came when the glove tapped his mouth. He was learning the difference. She kept a second pair in the drawer, unworn, for the night she decided he had earned skin. He had not earned it yet. He did not mind. The leather was the point he had asked for.

Rhea added a second glove and no mercy. She stroked Tomos with one hand and held his throat, lightly, with the other, leather on skin, and stopped him every time he begged. When she let him come it was across both palms. He licked them in turn. She still did not let him fuck her. He went home ruined and texted thank you. On Sunday she rode him with the gloves on and came twice, and he was allowed to come only after the second, inside her, the leather tapping his mouth as the signal. He was learning. The drawer kept the unworn pair. The worn pair smelled of him. She did not wash them. He noticed, and got harder.

The unworn pair stayed unworn. Rhea used the stained ones and made Tomos suck each finger before she jerked him. He came on the leather. He licked it. She kissed him after, which undid him more than the orgasm. Next time she fucked him with the gloves on his chest, leather creaking, and he waited for the tap on his mouth before he came. He said the gloves were the sex. She said his cock was allowed to visit. He laughed, wrecked, and asked for Wednesday. She said Wednesday, and do not touch yourself before. He did not. He arrived already desperate, which was how she liked the leather to find him.

The leather stayed on. He came where the glove told him to, licked it clean, and left hard enough to be a problem on the stairs.