Thursday, September 22, 2011


Written for the September 2011 Tea Room Leather Challenge

by Randy Williams

I rubbed the warm soft leather of the jock. It pulled each time I moved. Not to mention the warm scent. I can't spend tomorrow in the rest room. I stretched out on the bed. A grin ghosted across my lips as I heard, "Brat! Where is MY jock?"

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

By Royal Decree

Right, daftness to follow. 


"Pleather? Pleather?!" squawked the Queen, outrage suffusing her face with colour. "I shan't be touched by pleather!"

The ribbon of ethically-pure, finely crafted and utterly rejected item sailed past. The weary courtier bowed low, cursing the vagaries of vegan purchasing officers, Royal Seal or no, thinking once more that the whole cow would not provide what this bethroned pest needed. 

Perhaps homage to all the gifts of the realm? Rattan from the East for canes beyond compare. Polycarbonate from the Great Industrial Estates to the West for the most searing of lexans. One could but dream and duck, he sighed.


by Lou

I love it when she lets me do this, undressing her slowly and letting my hands direct her. Kissing the marks made by her clothes; soft indentations on pliant flesh. Pulling her nipple into my mouth and inhaling the scent of her warmth. Of her.

Her leather belt, supple from use, the memory of which can make me grin foolishly just to see her wearing it, low across her hips, at a dull and deadening party. That spark of amusement as she catches my eye and notes my increasingly frequent forays into my bag to clutch at car keys.