Backstage of Latex and rubber

The latex clings like a second skin. She runs her palms over the black rubber stretched across her hips, fingers tracing the way it molds every curve. Her ass looks bigger, rounder, framed perfectly by the glossy material. She presses harder, the tight surface squeaking softly as it rubs against her thighs. Heat builds between her legs. She slides one hand lower, pressing the slick material against her mound, letting the pressure do the work while the other hand squeezes the swell of her ass. A small, involuntary moan slips out. The sensation is smooth, tight, and impossible to ignore. She keeps moving, rubbing slowly, testing how much friction the rubber can give her before she needs to push the leggings down.