Leather: It’s Not Just for Cyclists

by Laura of Delicacies

True confessions: I have a leather corset. It’s the first piece of truly sexy clothing I’ve ever owned and I was over the age of 50 when I got it.

My guy and I picked it out together. There we were on the sofa peering at the computer screen; he’s looking at designs, and I’m imagining my voluptuous body, center-stage, squeezed into a corset. Yikes!

It was to be a gift for me, a gift for us really, and he was doing the ordering. I was a willing participant but so unsure I could carry off the look. When he asked my size, I waffled. I don’t like to discuss my weight or clothing size and certainly not with a guy I’m dating.

We looked at item after item as I talked about which ones appealed to me and which didn’t. Finally we settled on one, and I had to commit to a size. I skirted the issue by focusing on the bust measurement: that allowed me to get something bigger without confessing to my weight. It’s not like the man had never seen me naked, but still—.

About a week later, the corset was ordered. It had garters, but I didn’t own real hose. I hadn’t really thought that one through either. Another awkward experience: going to the local ‘sexy’ chain store in a small town, hoping not to run into someone from my past “respectable’ life.

With my new fishnet hose in hand and the outfit waiting, I get psyched up for the evening. You can’t just slip into this kind of experience without some prep work! Drink in hand, I retreat to the bathroom to dress in private. Put it on, zip it up, how difficult could this possibly be?  After all, I’ve been zipping up my clothes for years, haven’t I?

So imagine me trying to transform myself into the wearer of a leather corset: black with a lace-up panel in the back and a zippered front. It’s boned and curved to outline my bust. The front has additional lace-up inserts on either side, at hip bone level. And a matching g-string, which was also a first!

I must admit that the first glance gave me a little thrill, immediately followed by mild panic. It took me several attempts and much adjusting of the back lace-up to get it just right. Too tight and the front won’t zip, no matter how deep I sucked in my gut. I prayed the tied ribbons wouldn’t come undone and send the corset flying off my body. The front inserts had to be laced tight enough to squash that little ripple of fat that midlife has given me.

Next, the garters. I managed the front ones but reaching around to hook the back ones while tightly ensconced in leather is a job for a contortionist. I fumble repeatedly, fearful that I’m straining my back before I finally get three out of the four hooks. I feel a light bead of sweat forming in my cleavage– and I haven’t even gotten to the bedroom!  I take a deep breath and turn to face myself in the full-length mirror.

I am blown away by how I look. Absolutely sexy and hot. All modesty aside, I’m 55 freaking years old and I’ve never ever experienced such a sensation of myself as a woman. Gone were all the fears and apprehensions.

My feeling of sensuousness was rewarded by the look in my partner’s eyes as he walked in the room. I felt wild and passionate–deeply sexy, confident and assured. It was an eye-opening evening for the both of us, witnessing my ownership of my sexuality.

I’m definitely going there again.