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Chapter 3
by Vestiphile
The last one, right?
Can I give you a Hand?
He was straining against his briefs. There still seemed to be a hyperawareness in his eyes, but I don’t think it was terror. His breath flowing against me was slow and tempered, and his eyes were jumping between the glove I had against his mouth, and the one that was reaching for his waistband.
Part of me wanted a voice—to talk to him and reassure him—but another part of me very much liked the sort of tension he was giving off. It wasn’t fear, precisely. It seemed more like anticipation. I wasn’t sure how I knew these things, but I chalked it up to being an observer in his room for so long before I had the capacity to physically act. It made me a sort of expert on his presence.
Maybe that was as good as communication.
I slid a leather finger between his waistband and his belly, and he made a little noise behind my other glove clamped to his lips. At first, I was tempted to let go of his mouth. I knew he wasn’t going to scream now, but the hand that tried to pull me away from his jaw earlier was now exploring me. He started at the base of my fingers, testing for my knuckles, squeezing my hand. I defied his expectations, being rigid as I could make the leather on one pass, and then plump and supple like an inflated leather sack on another. He seemed to really delight in some part of all this, because I could see his cock stretching against his briefs while I insinuated another finger under the waistband and pulled on it.
His moan was like music to my ears. He was pawing around my cuff now, sliding his fingertips over the inflated arc of my opening. He gently felt the lining inside, and he drew a breath through his nose in a way that made me wonder if he was enjoying my scent.
I pulled back his waistband, letting his swollen member pop-up between his legs of its own accord. He actually shimmied his hips, pulling his hand off of me and trying to lift his waistline to make my access easier. I couldn’t imagine a more open invitation, so I finally let my glove off of his mouth and took the pair to slide his briefs and pants down to midthigh.
“This has gotta be a dream,” he groaned. “So if we get caught, like it doesn’t matter, right?” Get caught? I didn’t really know what that meant. Would this get him into trouble somehow? I didn’t really have a way to ask. “Or like, maybe you scare them away or something if someone comes?” He looked down at me with wild lust now as I danced my pointer and middle fingers under his shaft before curling my thumb around him. I gently stroke him with these three fingers as the remaining two glide against his sack. With my other hand, I give him a thumbs up in response to his question.
“Magic leather gloves,” he said. “How did I get so lucky?” I wrapped all four fingers around him now, stroking slow as I increased my grip. The fingertips of my other glove glided along his waist, and I felt his whole body tremble before he let out a giggle.
“The sides—not the sides, please.”
I drifted to the center of his abs as his core tightened against my slick fingertips. I climbed his solar plexus beneath the fabric of his shirt and spread my fingertips over his chest.
“Yeahhhhh, yes, massage my chest. Please.” I wasn’t sure I was expecting things to be this easy, but I was happy they were! Clearly I had already made a friend. Paying close attention to him had paid off. “Pull it off,” he pleaded. “Pull my shirt off. I want to watch you do that to me—like I’m watching you stroke me.”
This would, of course, increase our visibility to the outside world, but I supposed he was satisfied about my answer about ‘getting caught’. I’d promised to scare any interlopers away. I stretched away from his chest, taking his collar from over me. Just like before, he leaned forward to let me pull the shirt off, lifting his arms at the same time. I snapped it away and dropped it in his lap, out of our way as I returned to his chest.
“No, wait…” He said, taking my glove in both his hands. “Come here.” He nuzzled his face against my palm, and I took his chin, watching his eyes roll back as I rolled my leather thumb over his lips. “Oh my god, this isn’t posssssible,” he moaned.
Just then, we both heard something outside the car.
_
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WHAT WAS THAT NOISE
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Clothing Takeover
Clothes make the man...do whatever they want him to.
Hot guys from all walks of life find themselves subject to the whims of their clothing. Sometimes even their other possessions, the clothing of others, or random inanimate objects come to life to tease and dominate them! For some, this amounts to daywalking in a strange, absurdist nightmare...but others decide they like the new attention they're getting from being owned by their former possessions.
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- living clothing, living gloves, vestiphile, living clothes, gay, mens clothes, college, Fraternity, Ghost, Invisible, Manifestation, gay clothing, magic clothes, gay socks, sock fetish, bondage, body control, male victim, gloves, glove fetish, leather, leather gloves, handjob, undress, public sex, domination, fetish, masturbation, website, spell
Updated on Sep 8, 2022
by Vestiphile
Created on Aug 22, 2020
by JayHawk303
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