Snowfall Seduction

Story Info
A slow seduction occurs with a young and horny college student.
9.2k words
4.67
83.7k
114
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Early in the semester, the professor of Modern European Literature asked everyone where they were from, and whether they would be going home over either Thanksgiving or Christmas. Evan was from Arizona and already knew that his parents were planning on spending Christmas abroad. But the timing had not worked out for him with the start of classes, so his parents were going to come to him at school and then depart from there. He had admitted that he was probably the one who was going to stay in town over Christmas.

The question was asked and then forgotten. The class was stimulating but difficult and Evan enjoyed it. Admittedly, part of his enjoyment was because of the attractiveness of the professor. She was lean and tall, and generally wore knee-length pencil skirts and some form of nice top. She had wavy, brown hair and brown eyes that were nicely framed by the black glasses she wore. Like most of the other guys in the class, Evan was slightly in love, or lust, with her.

Evan typically was one of the first to arrive in the classroom. It was his first class of the day and it was close to his apartment, and he usually liked to sit and get his mind prepared for the class while the other students filtered in. It was not unusual that he and the professor were the only two people in the room for a few minutes, but they rarely spoke except to greet one another. She typically had her nose in her iPad until the class started. Then she stood and began.

There were only three classes left. Evan got in early, and took his seat. Professor Carter had not even looked up when he walked in, so he skipped his greeting. But then she set her iPad down.

"Evan, are you still staying in town over Christmas?" she asked suddenly.

"Uh, yes," he said, surprised that she had recalled it.

"Listen, would you mind coming to my office this afternoon? I have office hours from three until five. There's something I want to ask you," she concluded.

"Uh, I have a class at three, ends at three forty-five. So around four okay?"

"Yes. Perfect. Talk to you then!" she said cheerfully, and then returned her attention to the iPad.

What the hell? But others began arriving, and then the class started and he was unable to ponder her request. Afterwards, though, it was about the only thing on his mind. The remaining classes seemed to drag on; the anticipation of the unknown reason behind her request led to a near-complete distraction.

He went to her office and arrived right at four. He knocked at her open-door even though no one was in her office with her. She looked up. "Oh good, Evan, come in please!" she said warmly.

After entering he took a seat across the desk from her. He was more curious than nervous; his grades on the papers in the class had all been good, and his final paper was already drafted and in the process of his review. "What's up?" he asked.

She sighed. "I have a proposal for you," she said quickly. "It's a way for you to earn a thousand bucks over the Christmas break."

His ears perked up. A thousand bucks? "For what?"

"Painting my house," she said. "I'm sorry, but I loathe the job and it's badly in need of painting. I did this a few years ago and it turned out quite satisfactory for me, and I want to update my house with a fresh coat of paint. So I thought of you because you're staying in town."

"Oh!" he said. "Sure, I'll be happy to do it," he said.

She grinned. "Oh thank you!" she said. "Can you come back to my office at five on the Friday of finals week? We'll go to my house and I'll walk you through the job, and set the details, okay?"

"Absolutely." He took out his phone and added a calendar event. "I will see you then!" he said happily.

"Great. Okay, that's it. Sorry, I'm in the middle of writing something," she said morphing into her "professor mode" smoothly.

"Okay," he stood recognizing the dismissal. "See you." He left.

On the Friday of finals week he arrived at her office right on time. She was already dressed to leave, with a heavy coat on and her backpack slung over her back. "There you are," she said. "Come with me," she said.

They walked and chatted casually. When they got to her car, he was not surprised at all to see she drove a sporty black BMW. They got in and continued their small talk while she drove through town, to a very nice area. Her home was a small Cape Cod. Though small it's exterior appearance was on par with the other homes on the street.

They walked in, she took his jacket, and then she began the tour. There were two rooms upstairs, one clearly a spare bedroom and the other an office. The downstairs had four rooms, the front living room open space that led to the kitchen, her master bedroom and a sitting room where she had a piano and some other musical instruments.

The paint was all stacked up in the music room, along with all of the other needs of the job. They decided he would start on the day after Christmas. She said she was going home to visit her family in Philadelphia, and his parents were due to arrive later that evening. With everything settled, he put his coat on and walked about a mile from her home to her apartment.

The visit with his parents was pleasant, and they left Christmas morning to catch their flight. He had never been alone on Christmas day and slipped into a bit of a blue funk. Nothing was open and everything was so quiet. He was bored and missed the camaraderie of the holiday. As the day dragged on, inevitably it led to him sitting on his couch with his laptop open, browsing porn and idly masturbating. It passed the time as well as anything else.

His tastes for porn had been changing lately and he considered there to be a few drivers. One was the overabundance of "mainstream" porn - a man or multiple men, a woman or multiple women, all engaged in the usual forms of intercourse. His interest in those scenes waned, especially given how it was all stale and rather predictable. Aside from a few women that caught his eye, there was nothing particularly erotic about the usual crap.

That led him to tentatively travel down some paths he considered exotic. One of his areas of investigation of she-males and t-girls. The thought of those sexy women with big, thick cocks enticed him. He traveled other paths as well. Following those paths were done with more hesitation. He did not think of himself as gay but seeing some of those "traps" all dressed up in feminine clothing generated some sexual arousal more from the kinky aspect of it than anything else.

But those thoughts were far from his mind the next day. He walked to his professor's house, who greeted him with a bagel and a hot cup of coffee and insisted that he call her by her first name Heather. He got started on the upstairs room, moving everything away from the walls, protecting the floor, painting the trim and then the wall next to the trim. He did the ceiling and finally, the walls. He was done around five. Heather had spoken to him very little but had provided lunch of sandwiches.

She inspected his work. "Nice work," she complimented him. "Same time tomorrow?"

"You bet, Heather."

The next day he started on her office. After moving things around, two curious things happened. First, as he was moving her office chair he found a pair of wadded up panties in the chair. He looked around even though he heard her moving around downstairs, and then picked them up. They were stiff, oddly stiff. "Ew," he said softly, and dropped them back down.

When he moved her computer, maybe it was moving the mouse that did it. Her screen came to life, and he did not notice for a few minutes until he was turning to get some paint materials. On screen, a video was playing. It was a graphic porn video of a shemale banging a guy. He stared, open-mouthed. The sound was low but he could heard the sounds of their pleasure. He tried to look away but it kept recurring to him. He stayed far away from that computer, afraid that the peek into her private life was far more revealing than he would have liked.

The memory never went away as he painted. She visits with him were more frequent, and by the afternoon she had perched into her office chair. His mind kept returning to her panties and computer. As he ended his work, she moved the mouse. "Oh!" she squeaked. He looked over long enough to see her quickly close the offending porn site. "Oops," she looked at him, and giggled. "This computer didn't turn on today, did it?" she asked.

"No," he replied innocently. But he felt a slight warmth spread over his face.

"Okay, good," she said and turned around to her computer. She stood up and looked down, and he caught out of the corner of her eye a swift grab of the dirty panties, and she held them in her hand and walked out quickly. He put the office back together. She returned just as he was finishing up.

"You hungry? I can cook for us," she suggested.

"Um, sure," he agreed.

"Good," she said standing, "because it's almost done!" He finished and walked downstairs to see her dinner table set with two settings, and a chilled bottle of white wine on the table. He sat at her insistence, put did pour them both a glass of wine as she served a homemade fettuccine alfredo. It was delicious and the conversation enjoyable. They covered a wide range of topics, and as their second glass of wine each was nearly done, she guided the conversation to more personal areas.

"So do you have a girlfriend?" she wanted to know.

"No, not for a...year or so."

Both eyebrows arched. "That's quite a while. How come?"

He shrugged. "The split was unexpected and kind of nasty. So for a while I was just kind of angry with it all, and then this semester I struck out. Went on a few first dates, no seconds," he admitted.

"That's too bad," she said. "But a year?" Her grin was wicked. "That must be tough, a virile young man your age..."

Virile? The innuendo kind of stunned him. Why would his professor, or now his employer, be interested in his sex life? The thought of her panties and her still-open web browser on the computer came to mind. What the hell?

"Well..." he said softly and evasively. "I get by."

She grinned and reached out to lightly pat the back of his hand. "Don't we all!"

The evening broke up without any more suggestive conversation. Evan left and walked home in the darkness, and upon returning to his apartment he went directly to his computer and opened a web browser. The day's events were unsettling yet intriguing. She-male porn? And who's dried cum had been in those panties?

That night he found a subreddit that blew his mind. He spent several hours browsing and pleasuring himself. He slept but his dreams were muddled with strange, exotic yet erotic visions.

The next day he painted the walls on the steps and then went into the main living room. Again Heather hovered all day long, and they had far-ranging conversations covering many topics. He was enjoying her company and as his comfort with her grew, his attraction to her did as well. She prepared him another nice supper. Just before supper was served, he asked for her help to move her couch back against the wall.

Once again, he looked down and saw a pair of panties, these in a leopard-print style. He bent down and picked them up. "Uh, I think these are yours," he said.

She had the humility to redden slightly as she took them. "I've been looking all over for these. Guess I ought to be a little more careful, huh?" she said and took them. He got the sense that they were also stiff. What's with all the cum?

They dined together again, and she was not half-way through the first glass of wine when the personal questions began again. How many girlfriends? Why did the last one end poorly? Was he active on any dating sites? He answered them hesitatingly at first, then with more confidence. She finally admitted some of her own personal details. She was single and had been for some time. She said that's why she was so involved in her writing. She went on to say that she had last had a significant other about two years ago and it had lasted for six wonderful months, but there had been a mutual parting of the ways.

"I'm surprised," he blurted when she concluded her tale.

"Oh?" Her raised eyebrows accentuated her question. "Why is that?"

He blushed a little; speaking to pretty women had sometimes left him tongue-tied, and this situation was made worse given her age and her position of power with him as professor and employer. "Well, you're um...you're attractive, that's why."

"Why, thank you, Evan!" she purred, her hand smoothly sliding over and covering the back of his. This time she did not pull it away. "A lady likes to hear that."

"You're welcome," he said as the heat of their touch went directly to his brain, which in turn led directly to his crotch. His body reacted, not fully, but certainly his body remained alert from the touch. "It's true, though. I especially like the glasses," he admitted dropping back into a shy tone.

She kept her hand on his, and lifted her other to touch the frames. "I think they look good, too," she agreed. "That's why I chose them!"

"Good choice."

"You're sweet." Her hand squeezed his a little. A heavy silence fell. They simply look at each other, but the moment broke when her phone rang. "Damn!" she swore but answered it. Evan used the distraction to escape, although he noted her dismayed expression that crossed her face as he donned his jacket to leave. She waved at him as she spoke on her phone.

That night he spent most of the night masturbating and browsing the exotic porn. What other option did he have? Yet just like the prior night, it did not end with a climax. For some reason, denying himself the ultimate pleasure seemed right given the kind of things that he was viewing. Sleep came difficult; his erection was insistent and distracting.

The next day he did the rest of Heather's front room and the kitchen. He did the kitchen first at her request, since she said that she was enjoying cooking for him and wanted access to her kitchen. She said that she assumed he wanted to stay for dinner and smiled brightly with his immediate acceptance.

The front room was done around four, so he took the time to prepare the music room for the following day's work. When he was done, the meaty aroma emanating from her kitchen left his mouth watering.

She had worn a pair of yoga pants all day. He had caught himself eyeing her shapely backside several times in those pants. Her shirt was long and loose, and mostly the only time he got to give her butt a hard look is when she bent over to do something. One task she had taken some time to do that day was redecorate her front room with several candles.

As they had the previous two nights, wine accompanied the supper. This was a dry red, and delicious. Evan felt it hit him harder, though. By the conclusion of supper, his belly was full from her delicious cooking and his mind was buzzing hard from the wine.

"Wow, I'm buzzing," he admitted.

She quickly slid her hand over atop his. "Tell me more," she grinned.

"Nothing to tell." He grinned sheepishly. "This bottle went right to my head, that's all."

"You don't drink good wine often do you?"

"No, never, really. This might have been the first time I actually enjoyed it!"

"Nice. So I'm paying you, feeding you and teaching you about good wine. This is quite a week for you!"

"So far," I agreed happily.

She patted his hand. "Would you like to sit on the couch with me?" she asked smoothly. "We can sit and talk."

"Uh, sure," he said. Was it the wine? He'd not found any panties for the past two days. But the lengthy masturbation sessions left him very susceptible to her wiles. The prolonged arousal and close proximity to the good-looking woman - plus all of her dirty panties - enhanced his openness. Add to it the buzz from the wine, and sitting down nestling up with this pretty, older woman seemed like the best thing in the world.

He helped her clear the table, and then she dimmed the lights and lit several candles. The resulting atmosphere in the living room was sensual, ripe for soft conversation and gentle caresses. His heart was not racing but there was definitely a quickened pace as he watched her move through the room and light candles. She had another bottle of wine. She opened it and tilted the bottle towards him, and he held the glass up for the refill.

He was seated against the arm of the sofa. "I wish," she said as she settled onto the couch and rested her body next to him, "that this house had a fireplace. That would be so nice on a night like this, wouldn't it?"

The heat of her body pressing against him left him breathless. His head swam from the combination of the seductive atmosphere and the alcohol. "Yes it would, but the candles are nice too," he said.

"Yeah. I like to sit like this on some nights and just stare at them while sipping wine."

"Sounds...nice but..."

"But?" she prompted.

"But...um...a little lonely."

She sighed softly. "True." She nestled closer to him. "But not tonight."

"Well, yeah," he said. Just having her next to him stirred his organ in his pants. "This is nice."

"Yes." She sipped her wine, and set it down on the coffee table in front of her. When she settled back into the sofa, her head turned towards him. While she had moved he set his glass down on the end table next to him. His head turned to her.

Their eye contact was instant. The intense gaze led to a series of questions asked. Should I? Can I? Will he? Will she? Hesitantly, just in case he had totally misread the evening, he brought his head the tiniest bit closer to her.

He saw the corners of her mouth turn up just enough. Her eyes fluttered closed and she brought her head forward. Their lips met, nothing more than a tender brushing of flesh. But the electric first contact brought both of their mouths open and pressed closer together. Her lips were thin and pliant, and her tongue darted out into his mouth and wrestled pleasantly with his. She sighed heavily into the kiss and pressed forward.

The intensity increased. First he moaned softly, matched by hers. Their heads tilted as their mouths stayed open and pressed against one another's. Her hand fell to his leg and she began to rub it. The kiss had done the job already and his stiff member pressed against the front of his jeans. She ran her hand slowly up his leg and then over the front of his pants, eliciting a break in the kiss with a long sigh of pleasure from him.

"What have we here?" she cooed with a delighted grin. Their kiss resumed with increased fire, driven as much by her hand's activity as their hot kiss.

He tried to squirm his hand down to her leg, but she broke the kiss and moved her hand to grasp his wrist. "No," she said breathlessly. "Let me lead," she said.

Intoxication comes in many forms - in alcohol and in lust. He immediately acquiesced to her request. Their kiss resumed with him keeping his hands idle while hers remained busy. Her nimble fingers found the button of his jeans and deftly undid them, and slowly unzipped his pants.

Freed of the prison, his erection sprung free into her hand. Both moaned simultaneously into each other's mouths. "Oh god your cock is nice and big," she moaned into the kiss.

"Your hand...feels so good!"

She began to stroke him softly and gently. Her stimulation strained his member to a remarkable fullness. But the lengthy denials from the two previous nights' masturbation left him dangerously close to the edge already.

He had to break the kiss. "Wait," he gasped, reaching to grip her wrist and stay her motion. "I'm already close."

"Just from this?" she giggled sexily.

"Let's say that I've...stimulated myself two nights in a row without...climax," he said searching for a more appropriate word.