Jasmine Fantasies: Nylon Seduction

I did this for two reasons:

1. If I was alone, I liked having porn playing in the background while I wrote. It kept me going, turned me on, and inspired my sex scenes. There is nothing sexier than a woman moaning (except for a woman in nylons moaning).
2. I also hated if I was close to getting off while watching a scene, and the damn thing ended. The mood drifting away while I searched for another scene, was annoying.

I quickly closed the laptop, even as the girl moaned, "Suck my clit, Mommy."

"Um, I was... just..." I tried to formulate something to say, just as I also realized my rabbit vibrator was in plain view.

"It's okay, Mom," she smiled. "We all need to get off sometimes."

"Oh my God!" I gasped, "you just caught me absolutely red-handed, and there's no way I can explain this away!" I was so mortified to be caught like this. "You must think I'm a horrible mother!"

"No, I don't mind at all. It's good to see you can still get a little revved up sometimes," she smiled.

This annoyed me for some reason, so I said, "Oh, I still can get revved up, all right."

"So I see," she said, glancing at my computer.

"I wasn't watching that scene," I said, which was true. "It just kept playing after I fell asleep."

"I understand," she said. "I think I'll order us some pizza."

"Thanks, honey," I said.

"And... nice toy," she said, before walking out.

I was mortified to get caught, yet our conversation had relaxed me. She didn't think it was a big deal, and of course it wasn't. Women masturbate... this is no secret. Although the incestuous porn playing in the background definitely made it more awkward.

Although I wrote a lot of incest porn, it wasn't something I'd seriously considered doing with my children. I just saw them as my children. Young people worthy of my nurturing, and I didn't mean that in any tawdry way.

I cleaned up my toy (good hygiene is important), got into more comfortable clothes (I wondered if she'd seen the top of my lace stockings), and after freshening up, headed downstairs.

We ate, watched some television and talked about graduation... thankfully, she didn't mention what she'd walked into earlier.

I ended up chatting on the phone with my husband for an hour.

My mom for fifteen.

I did some grading for an hour.

Anything to push away the reality that someone knew my biggest secret: that I was silkstockingslover.

Who?

How?

Who?

How?

Who?

How?

These two questions wracked my brain and created increasing anxiety.

The fear of losing my job terrified me.

The thought of my daughter finding out worried me.

I had recently told my husband, although not that I was published and the most favourited author in erotica, just that I liked to write dirty fantasies. He didn't know my incest fantasies, or my BBC fantasies, or my pegging fantasies... just my lesbian fantasies... which turned him on... of course.

Yet even with all those fears, I couldn't deny how excited I was to find a Mistress who wanted to take me on. Especially if this woman could make my plethora of fantasies come true, double especially if she could also keep them secret.

Then my sister sent me two pictures and a question... as if she were somehow able to read my mind and my weakness.

Like my new tattoo?

I stared not only at her tiny new tattoo on her right breast, but at her perky tits and her thigh high stockings.

I responded, trying to act like a big sister and not a lustful slut: Did you have to wear lingerie to show me?

She texted back: Of course.

I shook my head and texted back: Of course you do.

She asked: Like?

I replied: It's cute.

She texted back: I was going for sexy.

I responded: The lingerie is.

She added, knowing I always wore nylons: As are the nylons!

I laughed as I replied: Of course they are.

She texted back: Heading out, see you Saturday.

I replied: Can't wait.

She replied: We are going to have a night to remember.

I replied: We better.

So, my libido controlling my mind, and thinking about my baby sister and Saturday, I went to her Instagram and admired her recent posts.

From the cute and innocent:

A cute little photo shoot that started sweet and got more delicious. Especially a

provocative ass shot that had me wishing I hadn't gained some thirty pounds after two kids that I've never lost:

I closed my eyes and slowly pleasured myself, imagining Beth turning me into her submissive sister slut.

Smiling at me as she informed me I was going to be her mindless bimbo plaything.

Telling me it will be our little secret.

Bending over and demanding I just stare at her tight ass.

Ordering me to lick her stocking-clad foot.

Demand I crawl between her legs and eat her pussy like I've been fantasizing doing all these years.

Ordering I bend over, so she can fuck me with her big strap-on:

Calling me a litany of names that make me come like a cheap slut.

Bimbo.

Slut.

Cunt licker.

Pet.

Submissive.

Slave.

Lesbo.

Each making me tremble.

Exhausted from the day... I rolled over and fell asleep.

FRIDAY

Friday was the last day before the holidays, and our traditional formal dress up day.

I dressed in a black cocktail dress, black thigh highs and my only thong... I didn't like wearing a thong as it went up my ass crack, but I was feeling incredibly sexy and risque.

I figured no matter what happened today, it was out of my control, and I was just going to see where the road of submission took me.

I saw a text from Beth sent at 1:30 am. With the word: Hungry?

I clicked onto the image and gasped. She was displaying somebody's cum on the soles of her nylon-clad feet.

It was followed by a second photo and message: Never mind, I ate it myself.

I arrived at school, and found nothing on my desk.

I went through the morning, and still nothing.

This stressed me out even more than getting something.

At lunch I went to the car to see if anything was there... nothing.

It wasn't until the last class of the day when they were bringing around candy cane messages that students could buy for a quarter and have delivered today.

I got one.

It simply said: Soon!

I sighed.

That didn't tell me anything.

The day ended, and I was both relieved... and disappointed.

Of course just as I thought I was out of luck... I found a gift certificate on my passenger seat with a note.

Mrs. Walker

Final gift.

A makeover.

You need to be there for your 5:00.

Enjoy.

Secret Santa

It was for a location downtown.

A place I'd been to once with my baby sister.

The salon was very high end.

Beth had tried convincing me to get a Brazilian... but I resisted.

I drove there, and first got a pedicure and manicure.

They're so relaxing.

As I was soaking my feet, I scrolled through Instagram and couldn't believe the newest posts from Beth. It was like she was constantly tempting me. Two pictures of her dressed like she was 18... how could she be 31 and still look 18?

These were some of her most provocative pics yet.

I wondered who'd taken them.

Once the pedicure and manicure were done, I got a massage, and after only a little push this time, I agreed to the Brazilian... just in case I did end up with a Mistress when all was said and done.

That night, home alone, and a little depressed that I was home alone... it seemed pretty anti-climactic after the wild surreal week I'd had.

I had a long bath... my pussy feeling a little tender after the Brazilian.

I wrote a good 10 pages of a new story.

I watched a couple episodes of Modern Family; man, will I hate it when that show ends.

I then did what I seemed to be doing every night recently... I imagined servicing my baby sister.

Worshipping her nylon-clad feet.

I imagined crawling between her nylon-clad legs and devouring her pussy like it was my last meal.

One orgasm later, I was exhausted.

I drifted into slumber, wishing I could turn my twisted incestuous fantasy into a reality.

SATURDAY

Saturday was a relatively normal, but more chaotic day, since it was the last Saturday before Christmas.

Parking was a bitch... ten minutes to find a spot.

Picking up my husband's present that I had ordered in was a bitch... eighteen people in line before me (and yes, I counted).

Getting groceries was a nightmare... almost as busy and claustrophobic as going to Disneyland on a Saturday.

By the time I got home, I was in quite a bitchy mood.

I was making a snack when I checked my phone, and my mood picked up in a heartbeat. My sister had posted a couple new pictures with the question: What should I wear for a wild night out with my sister? And this wasn't in a private email to me, it was posted on Instagram, where all her followers could see it.

She then had posted a few different looks... each of them showcasing her legs and feet in nylons. As if she somehow knew this would turn me on... even though that was absurd. She couldn't possibly have a clue, other than she knew I almost always wore nylons too. That we had talked about, although I had indicated it was just for my man... which was only partly true. I had first started wearing them to please my very first boyfriend in high school, and then just kept wearing them afterwards, liking the attention I got from wearing them, and how they made Plain Jane me feel a little sexier.

Something nerdy, perhaps?

Something casual?

Something classy?

There were a couple dozen comments. Many of them flattering her about each picture. Others suggesting she wear something sexier.

This, of course, was the opportunity for my sister to respond with something more provocative.

You mean something like this?

Or maybe something like this, underneath:

I responded playfully... Are you ditching me after dinner to go clubbing?

She responded almost instantly, but with a text: I expect you to be dressed up nicely too.

I joked, giving her the most unsubtle hint ever: Yes, Mistress.

She responded: Mistress, I like that.

I responded, even as my pussy tingled: Of course you do.

She texted back: Dress up sexy. We're going to have some fun tonight.

I replied: Why does that scare me?

She responded: It should. See you at seven.

I knew it was incredibly unlikely, but the possibility of an incestuous rendezvous was there... just dangling tantalizingly above me like a forbidden fruit.

A delicious ripe apple. Or better yet, an inviting perfect peach.

I took a long bath.

I imagined worshipping my baby sister's feet.

I got dressed.

Thigh highs.

My sexiest bra and panties.

A red cocktail dress.

I looked pretty hot, if I do say so myself.

As I did... I still couldn't help but wonder who knew my secret. Who could have figured out I was silkstockingslover? Why hadn't she said anything else about it since dropping the bombshell? Her intentions seemed pretty clear, and yet no follow-up... leaving me with a little niggling stress that held me back from being completely comfortable with my life, or even with tonight.

Knowing it was out of my control, I got an Uber to take me to the restaurant, planning to have a few drinks and just let loose without worrying about driving home.

Supper was great. We had a bottle and a half of wine, we had a great meal, we chatted about lots of stuff, and just enjoyed each other's company. It was a relaxing evening as I accepted that my silly incestuous fantasy was just that: a fantasy not even worth mentioning.

When we were done, she suggested we go to her place to hang out some more, and I eagerly accepted.

Twenty minutes later, we were at her house and she was slipping out of her heels... revealing her stocking-clad feet in my favourite colour of nylon.

I stared like a dirty little boy as she slipped out of her heels.

She asked, as she paused with one heel off, "Are you okay, big sis?"

"What? Yeah," I said, clearly distracted.

"You seemed to be dazed for a moment," she said.

"I just like your heels," I covered, although they were nice.

"Thanks," she said. "But what do you think of my nylons?"

"They're really nice," I said, secretly admiring them.

"They're Wolfords," she said.

Wolfords were the same brand I was gifted on Monday by my Secret Santa.

"W-W-Wolfords?" I stammered.

"Yes, they're the silkiest, sheerest stockings you can buy," she explained, as she posed for me like a model.

"They do look sheer," I agreed

"It looks like you're wearing Wolfords too," she said, looking at my legs.

"I-I-I am," I stammered.

"Where did you get yours?" she asked, as she stretched her foot straight out and playfully wiggled her toes at me.

"They were a gift," I said, as I tried not to stare at her sexy foot encased in her glistening nylon.

"From who?" she asked, as she stood up and walked towards the kitchen.

"I don't know," I answered, as I followed her.

"You don't know?" she asked, as she grabbed a bottle of wine.

"It was from a Secret Santa," I admitted.

"Really?" she asked as she grabbed two wine bottles.

"Yeah."

"That's rather an extravagant gift," she said, as she popped the cork.

"I know."

"Well, who was the Secret Santa?" she asked, as she poured the wine.

"I don't know," I admitted, the mystery being one I desperately wanted an answer to.

"You don't know?" she asked.

"No."

"This was at school?" she asked, as she stuffed the cork partway back in the bottle.

"Yes."

She handed me a glass and asked, "And they didn't even reveal themselves yesterday?"

"No," I answered, keeping to one-word answers.

"Weird," she said, sipping her drink.

"Weirder yet, we didn't even do Secret Santa this year," I said, "so they just arrived out of the blue," feeling it was nice to have someone to talk to about this.

"That is weird," she agreed, as she took my hand and led me to the living room.

"Do you have any clues?" she asked.

"I had a couple of hunches, but they ended up being wrong," I answered.

"Strange they wouldn't reveal themselves," she said as she sat down on the couch.

"I know, it's been driving me nuts," I said.