Jasmine Fantasies: Nylon Seduction

All characters are 18 years of age or older.

Summary: Jasmine is seduced by secret admirer in nylons.

Note 1: This is an April Fools 2020 Contest Story due to not one, but two plot twists.

Note 2: Thanks to NYLONSKITTY/NYLONSKITTEN for permission to use her photos. She really is a gorgeous woman and worth checking out. Plus, one old pic of me (I mean really old).

Note 3: Please note that YES I know that in some scenes the outfits will be similar, but slightly different (it was needed to make the plot flow)... sorry, in advance, for visual inconsistencies.

Note 4: Thanks to Tex Beethoven and Robert for editing this story.

Temptation is a dangerous thing.

It will always be there... like the apple that tempted Eve, which coined the term forbidden fruit.

As a teacher, there is no more dangerous position to be in than when you're tempted by forbidden fruit. Sure lawyers may fuck their clients, doctors fuck their patients, and cops fuck criminals... but nothing is as tempting as ripe 18-year-olds who come and go year after year.

Every year there were a few forbidden fruits I would become obsessed with. Occasionally they were male, especially if I had a good-looking black boy (although that was quite rare because of where I lived in Northern Canada), but mostly they were girls. Almost every year there would be one or two that tempted me. Teaching in a small community, I taught high school seniors English, Social Studies And Psychology. So I often spent two or even three hours with a given student each day.

And the forbidden fruit was always there... tempting me.

I always managed to resist the temptation, no matter how hungry I was to take a bite. Just one bite wouldn't hurt, right? Wrong. There was the potential of public scandal, permanent blacklisting from the teaching profession, criminal prosecution and imprisonment, the lifetime legal obligation to tell everyone in your community that you're a registered sex offender, the list just goes on and on.

Except that it was perfectly safe if I confined my illegal fruit sampling to my imagination.

So, I imagined:

The cheerleader in her hot (breaking the dress code and yet allowed) outfit sitting on my face and allowing me to eat her pussy through her sheer pantyhose (I loved that the cheerleading coach insisted all her girls wear pantyhose under their ultra short skirts).

The nerd in her glasses who looked so sweet and innocent, but who I imagined was able to switch into a dominant seductress and make me into her pet.

The rich preppie girl who drove a car nicer than mine, and wore only designer clothes, turning me into her full-service maid as I bowed behind her and serviced her nylon-clad feet.

The chubby pretty girl who, although passed over by others because of her weight, had a secret ability to seduce and dominate. And then some sixth sense informed her how submissive I was, deep down.

The Asian exchange student who would break the stereotype of Japanese submissive, and have me licking her pussy from under my own desk (one of my favourite fantasies).

The tall, long legged Norwegian exchange student who was nineteen and wore white nylons every day.

I had many other fantasies, including:

-being a submissive to the entire cheerleader squad

-being bent over my desk and fucked in front of my class

-being gangbanged by the football or basketball team

-being a pussy pleaser for the debate club

-licking the Valedictorian while she gave her speech at graduation (hidden behind her podium)

-being blackmailed to do whatever my student (male or female) told me to

Now as a writer, I've written about many of these fantasies throughout the past decade. Yet I had never succumbed to any of the forbidden fruit that constantly appeared before me.

I wrote about it.

I pleasured myself about it.

I even created illustrated stories about it.

But that was it.

Fantasy wasn't reality.

Fantasy was just that... fantasy.

Reality could be very dangerous.

Then this year came along.

In my twenty-plus years of teaching, there have been many pretty girls, many cute nerds, many girls who wore nylons (which was my personal weakness) and many temptations. But no one had ever been quite like Samantha.

Samantha was perfection.

She was a redhaired, green-eyed beauty. Easily the prettiest girl I'd ever met face to face.

She was also incredibly intelligent and well spoken.

Furthermore, she was one of the nicest people around, which was (sadly a stereotype that was usually true), very rare for anyone this beautiful. Although she had to know how beautiful she was, she never acted like it mattered.

On top of that, she was a fashion whirlwind. One day she would come to school in a skirt and pantyhose and get my pussy burning. The next day she would be in a more typical jeans and t-shirt. That might be followed with a fashionable outfit that looked directly off the runway in Milan, and then the social suicide, at least when I'd been in school of wearing sweats to school.

She didn't seem to care what people thought of her. Her motto could have been, 'I am what I am, today or any day; deal with it. But if you should have a problem about me or anything else, you poor thing, I'll be happy to hold your hand while you talk through it.'

And as unfathomable as it seemed to me, she didn't date anyone. As far as I knew, she never had.

To make it even more crazy, she was the daughter of a former colleague of mine with whom I hadn't gotten along too well. Her mother had moved on to another school, and we hadn't spoken since then, other than generic chit chat if we were unlucky enough to encounter each other at a meeting or something.

Of course I didn't have any plans of making fantasy become reality... but Samantha was without a doubt the most tempting forbidden fruit in my teaching career.

So for over three months I'd fantasized about Samantha in almost every way possible. Mostly she seduced me, occasionally I seduced her, but it was always hot and got me off.

Then came the last week before the Christmas Holidays, which was always a tough week to teach. Some parents figured that even though their kids got two weeks off, they needed to pull their senior daughter out the entire week before the break as well... which logical me understood because flights that week were cheaper and less crowded, but teacher me found very frustrating... there was only a limited time in a school year to teach them everything they were supposed to learn. The kids also started going into holiday mode (tinsel and candy and who gives a hoot who Boss Tweed was) before the holidays actually started.

I arrived at my desk on Monday morning, an hour early as usual; I did my best work in the morning, with a mug of coffee at hand and no distractions. To my surprise, there was a large manila envelope on my desk with my name on it.

Curious, I opened the envelope to find a letter in it, and a pair of mocha-coloured thigh high stockings, and to my shock, they were very expensive stockings.

I generally only wore thigh high stockings to work, unless my dress or skirt was a little too short for them, and then I wore pantyhose. As you likely know (unless this is the first story of mine you've read), I have a major fetish for sheer nylon hosiery of all kinds: thigh high stockings (called hold ups in England), pantyhose (often called tights in England), Garter-belt and stockings for my sexier lingerie garments, a silk body stocking that was super sexy but easily ripped to pieces (which was sometimes a major turn on and other times super annoying), and crotchless pantyhose (as my man loved caressing my pantyhose-clad ass, but also demanded easy access to my pussy at all times... which is why I usually wore thigh high stockings with no panties).

Plus, I liked that underneath the somewhat bland teacher attire I wore to school for outer layers, I was also wearing very sexy lingerie and stockings that nobody but me was aware of. It was my own secret rebellion to a set of rules that had been established long before I became a teacher.

Our staff wasn't doing a secret Santa this year, and thus I was a little confused as to who this expensive present could be from.

At first I thought it was my husband, as he had left unexpected treats on my desk before: a coffee, or flowers... but never nylons.

Even more curious, I unfolded the letter and read the typed paper:

Mrs. Walker,

I have decided to be your secret Santa this week. A week where secrets will be revealed.

I hope you enjoy your first Secret Santa gift. Mocha is my favourite colour, and Wolford Stockings my favourite brand. I expect to see them displayed on your sexy legs when I come to class today.

Your Secret Santa

So it was a student.

He, or perhaps she, was expecting me to model these nylons for him or her.

How brazen.

Of course given my submissive nature, I was instantly turned on, and drawn towards obeying. I was already wearing pantyhose, not mocha but beige, which was a similar colour.

As I looked at the packaging again displaying the brand, I couldn't help but think this had to be someone with money. Wolfords weren't cheap. They also were sold in only a few exclusive stores, none of them nearby, so they had to have been bought online.

That led me to realize that whoever had put these on my desk, had been planning this initial overture for a while. Weeks... maybe months even.

I wanted to know who it was.

I also wanted to know why.

My pussy leaked slightly into my panties and pantyhose-clad crotch, thankful I hadn't chosen today to go commando.

I went commando once or twice a week, sometimes with thigh highs, usually with pantyhose, today being the rare day I was wearing panties with pantyhose.

Who?

Who?

Who?

The question wracked my mind.

Then another question consumed me, one of equal importance.

Why?

Why?

Why?

What exactly was this person expecting from this?

Ordering their teacher to wear thigh high stockings to their next class (which one?) was pretty brazen for a student. I mentally went through each of my classes and tried to envision who could have the balls (symbolically, girl-balls also existed) to be behind this.

A few boys who I knew checked out my legs regularly popped into my head, but none of them seemed confident enough to do this.

A couple of girls were possibilities, but they too seemed unlikely.

Then I realized it had to be a colleague. To get into my office, whoever it was had to have a key. I hadn't left on Friday until almost every student was long gone, and I'd definitely locked my door.

Who?

Who?

Who?

Why?

Why?

Why?

These two questions swirled in my head for over half an hour.

I'm not going to lie, I wanted to try on the nylons. I'd often considered ordering some online myself, but due to my budget, I never had.

I wanted to see if they were as amazing as the reviews said.

As silky sheer.

As shimmering.

But I couldn't obey the command of a student (if it was a student), even though my inner submissive side was dying to take charge and obey. (And if that isn't an oxymoron, I don't know what is.)

I put the letter and the package back in the envelope, and then into my school bag, and prepared for the day.

Today, by the way, was Ugly Christmas Sweater Day, and I had a cute one with the Grinch on it.

During each class, I looked at my students.

I observed them.

I tried to see inside them.

Who?

Who?

Who?

Everyone was a suspect.

But no one fit the profile.

Barry, a nerd, definitely admired my legs all the time.

Karen, a cheerleader, frequently had me almost in a trance as she continually slipped her right pantyhose-clad foot in and out of her shoe. One of my biggest fantasies was to submit to a cheerleader, and Karen was a perfect prototype. A blonde with blueish eyes. Also a bit of a bitch. Someone who was used to getting what she wanted. Okay, she had to be a front-runner.

Jamal, who had the perfect black man's name as far as I was concerned, seemed also to be checking me out regularly. He was someone who would have the balls to initiate something like this. As a basketball player with after-school practices, he would have still been here Friday night after I was gone. He also likely had the smooth talk to convince a janitor to let him in. Another of my biggest fantasies was a BBC. Maybe because it's still considered a little taboo in a world where very little is still taboo, maybe it was because I wanted to test the big black cock stereotype (it certainly seemed true in porn, but I'd fucked some decent-sized white cocks in my life). And yes, the idea of a nine-inch black cock slamming into me was kind of hot (although doing jail time still wasn't). I had recently learned from Twitter the term snow bunny, and I planned to write a story sometime soon based on that idea (becoming a snow bunny was an even hotter fantasy).

Dave, a science teacher, a colleague, came into my room once to ask me a question about the Spirit Week I had planned, although he could have easily just checked his email to get the week's plan. He was young (24), tall (he'd played college basketball) and good looking (all the girls thought he was hot). He hadn't ever shown any interest in me, but he'd just stepped forward as another suspect.

The day ended, and I still had no clue who my bossy admirer could possibly be.

I hoped it would be Samantha, who looked so cute in her ugly Christmas sweater, a black skirt and black pantyhose. Yet that seemed incredibly unlikely, although I could definitely fantasize about her dominating me.

I went home a little frustrated. A little horny. My husband Jake would be gone all week dealing with an oil leak that was causing havoc just a few miles from the Pacific Ocean. My son James was away at college all week, and my daughter Sarah wouldn't be home until later, as she worked Mondays.

So, before I went online and ordered any food, I went to my bedroom, climbed out of my pantyhose and into the new thigh highs.

They were so soft.

So sheer.

So sexy.

They even had a seam down the back.

I ordered some food, flipped open my laptop and started writing dirty stories. I was already done with my Christmas stories, and I had a couple of sequels already done and ready for 2020 release, as well as my third year-end questions essay. The first had been Twenty Questions, which revealed many of my secrets, which was then followed a year later by the ultra-creative title Twenty-One Questions, where I answered questions from readers and went deeper into the statistical aspects of my stories. This year Twenty-two Questions would be released to cap off the year 2019.

So I began work on a lesbian incestual love story. One that I hoped would be a little different from my traditional lesbian and incest stories. One that was less about domination, and more about sweet seduction. We'd have to wait until the 2021 Valentine's Day Contest to see whether I pulled it off, or even finished it.

As I typed, I rubbed my sheer nylon leg.

I had a couple pages done, when the doorbell rang.

I went downstairs and opened the door to see a cute college boy holding my food order. The idea of giving him a tip with my mouth on his cock popped into my head... when I was horny, almost every guy was a potential story, every girl a potential Mistress. Yet I never acted on any of these naughty impulses.

I wrote fantasy.

I didn't live it.

I returned to my bedroom with a small collection of white cardboard boxes and a pair of chopsticks.

I ate.

Typed.

Answered a call from my mom and chatted for a while.

Typed some more.

Eventually got horny from my writing, and ended up reaching out for some porn. I clicked on a Girlsway video and listened to the dialogue as I grabbed a vibrator and slid it inside me.

As often happened, I watched the video while imagining I was the MILF and my student Samantha the teen.

As also often happened, I came in only a couple of minutes, imagining her nylon-clad feet and ass being worshipped by yours truly.

Sexually satisfied, I quit writing (I never had any ambition to write once an orgasm had been released), and I began grading papers (which was not at all arousing).

TUESDAY

Partly nervous.

Partly curious.

Partly excited.

I arrived at work, expecting to find a second sexy Secret Santa gift.

So I was first disappointed, and then relieved, when I found the top of my desk was empty.

I figured yesterday's gift and letter had been a joke, or that since I hadn't obeyed whoever it was, he or she was done with me.

Was I relieved? Yes.

Was I disappointed? Yes, that too.

The Secret Santa had contributed some excitement to what had otherwise been a mundane month for the most part.

The day flew by.

The only real excitement that day was seeing Samantha dressed amazingly for Red and Green Day. She was wearing a red dress with green pantyhose. I'd never seen anyone wear green pantyhose. She looked so amazing. I complimented her, "Samantha, I love your version of school spirit."

"Thanks, Mrs. Walker," she smiled warmly; even her smile made my pussy wet. "You look great today, too."

Her compliment flattered me, and sent instant wetness to my pussy. God, she was hot.

I was heading to my car after school, thinking I might start writing a story about Samantha - her true identity well veiled of course; I'd resisted doing so until now. I'd written many stories about real students, but never while they were still attending my classes. I reached my locked car and was surprised to see an envelope lying on my seat. How could it possibly have gotten there?

I picked it up, sat down and opened it.

Mrs. Walker

I was quite disappointed to see you didn't wear my first gift for you. I assumed you would like them, since you obviously have a nylon fetish. I ordered these specifically for you, and I hope you will reconsider and wear them tomorrow. It's the least you can do.

Actually, let's make this a little clearer. I'm ordering you to wear them tomorrow. And we both know you're a submissive. So do as you're told, and tomorrow you must wear the nylons I purchased for you.

Your second gift is below. Just go to the URL and download it. I think you'll really enjoy it.

Secret Santa

I looked around to see if anyone was watching me, if even from a distance.

I couldn't see anyone.

My pussy was wet from the firm tone of the email. Secret Santa was coming across as the exact kind of strong seductress I'd fantasized about and written about for years.

I drove home, and although I wanted to instantly check out what the URL was, instead I made dinner, as my daughter was home. We chatted, had dinner, and then she went out to study for a test with her best friend, and I went into my office to do some writing and, of course, check out that URL.