Summary: Young teacher is seduced by MILF colleague.
Note 1: This is a 2017 Holiday Season Contest Story so please vote.
Note 2: Thanks to Tex Beethoven, Robert, thor_p, and Wayne for editing.
Nylon Tease: A Front Seat Fucking
"Can you give me a ride to the city this Friday?" Collette asked.
I was barely listening as I had watched her walk into my classroom and up to my desk... staring at her mocha clad silk stocking legs... my utter weakness... nylons.
Pantyhose, stockings, thigh highs, tights all had my cock instantly hard and ready for action.
And although I liked all colours, mocha or coffee, a dark brown, was my favourite.
I answered, trying to look into her eyes and avoid looking like the creepy colleague I was, "S-sure."
"You okay?" she asked, as she slipped her left foot out of her heel to reveal alternating red and green seasonal painted toenails... my cock flinching in my pants.
Although nylons were my fetish, sandal-foot style with the clear toe was my kryptonite. I couldn't explain it, but feet and toes in unobstructed translucent nylons were my biggest visual turn-on... more than tits, ass, eyes, hair, pussy or whatever else was more conventional.
Completely distracted, as I watched her wiggle her toenails as if giving me a subtle wave, I said, "Um, yeah, just distracted."
"By what?" My British MILF colleague asked, moving her foot back inside her shoe... hiding the tempting toes.
Breaking my trance, I looked back up, sheepishly, trying to be suave while also indicating my obsession, "Those are some seasonal toenails."
She slipped her foot back out and wiggled her toes again, "You think so? It was my daughter's idea."
Her daughter Bethany was in my English class, and was a knockout like her mother. Also like her mother she was the only student in school who regularly wore nylons. And, still like her mother, she had an affinity for slipping her feet in and out of her shoes... creating her unique version of a hypnotist's watch as I would spend the entire hour when she wore nylons checking out her legs and her feet.
Am I a pervert? Yes.
Is my fetish weird? Yes.
Was she of legal age? Yes. Moving from England when she was nine, she'd ended up a year behind her peers and was closer to nineteen than eighteen.
I broke free from my perversion to acknowledge her reply, "Yes, I think it's very festive."
"You're so sweet," she said warmly in her sexy English accent, giving my arm a squeeze, "My husband never even mentioned my toenails."
She appeared to be giving me just the slightest sexual innuendo with that, as if I were in a competition with her husband for her favour and I'd just scored a point. Although I was a first-year teacher here, Mrs. Jones (or Collette, as I was now privileged to call her) and I went way back. She'd been my English teacher in this very high school eight years ago and I'd had a mammoth crush on her back then... okay, and a sexual fixation too if you must know... and I'd been fantasizing about her off and on ever since. I'd gone through college on a full ride football scholarship even though I was an English major if you can believe that, then after graduation I'd played three years of professional ball, mostly as a linebacker on special teams, before returning here to my alma mater. Now I was an English teacher and football coach here, and as if she'd been waiting faithfully for me, my hot teacher Mrs. Jones had become my friendly and hot colleague Collette.
Failing to find a snappy comeback, I settled for, "Oh, well it's the time for giving."
Furthering her secret innuendo (if it was one) she quipped, "And receiving."
"Well, of course," I agreed, glancing again at her nylon-clad foot and her adorable perfectly pedicured toes.
She wiggled her toes one more time before slipping her foot back into its leather prison and said, "Well, I'll be fully in the giving mood when we head out on Friday."
Her tone and words seemed to be to be dripping with innuendo, but I couldn't be sure. I mean she was almost twice my age, my former teacher and married. Yet, if she were my age and single I'd be turning on the charm in hopes of scoring; and actually if she wasn't my colleague I would be doing the full court press. Yet, not wanting to let that go unanswered in case she was flirting (okay she was definitely flirting, but in case it was more than flirting, she wouldn't be the first married women to hit on me (I fucked my college coach's wife my entire senior year and have fucked more married women than women my age)), I said, "Well, 'tis the season."
She pulled her foot out of her heel again and wiggled her toes purposely, drawing my quick-trigger gaze instantly back to the floor. "That it is."
She just as quickly hid her foot back out of sight as I repeated, hinting at my fetish, "I do love those seasonal painted toenails."
"Good to know," she turned with a wink and nodding her head, she walked out of my room. No doubt that was a wink. No doubt she was flirting. Yet lots of doubt about her intent.
That was Tuesday.
The next three days were excruciating.
On Wednesday, ugly Christmas sweater day, Collette walked into my room wearing a hideous sweater, a plaid skirt and mocha nylons... and... as if deliberately tempting me... no shoes... her nylon-clad feet in full view. She admonished, looking at my sweater, "That isn't much of an ugly sweater."
I didn't have an ugly Christmas sweater and was too cheap to buy one, so I was just wearing a ski sweater. I countered, "I think yours is outrageous enough for two."
"You don't like my festive attire?" she pouted, giving a pose.
"I think you look very festive and likeable," I said, my eyes being pulled like magnets to her red and green painted toes... showcased so perfectly in the dark coloured hosiery.
"I love Christmas," she said, before adding again with a tone that crossed the line to extreme flirting, "I love giving and receiving, especially with people I like."
"I do too," I replied, thinking the naughty Christmas elves were really testing me here. God, I'd love to fuck her.
In truth I've always preferred older women, especially married older women (I know that makes me an asshole, but I can't resist them) for a few reasons:
1. The obvious, they are more experienced.
2. They are often neglected by their husbands and desperate for attention.
3. They love my big barrel and my ability to reload very quickly.
4. They don't want a relationship or to talk... they want to fuck.
5. They do the things girls my age often won't (swallowing, facials, anal).
6. They call me when they need a booty call and are genuinely appreciative when I come (and then come).
7. They are usually nasty and verbal (so many girls today are boring in the bedroom, not all mind you, but more than are not).
8. They like to share (I've had referrals from one MILF to her friends on a couple of occasions. And had even had my first threesome with two best friends who had never done anything lesbian with each other until I suggested it).
9. Older women wear nylons more than younger girls today (a nylon sighting on a younger girl is almost as rare as a politician telling the truth).
10. They can go for hours... treating each night with me as if it is their last fuck before going to the sexual guillotine.
"Do you have the Hamlet DVD?" she asked, bringing me back to reality.
"Aaaah, Yeah, sure," I nodded, going to my DVD player as I'd finished watching the epic Kenneth Branagh version, the sword throwing part both brilliant and hilarious.
"The others are showing the Mel Gibson version," she said with contempt.
"I know," I said, my tone slightly disgusted. "There are no redeeming lessons in that one."
"I couldn't agree more."
"Mel should've made Lethal Weapon Five instead," I joked, as I handed her the DVD, once again glancing down to her seasonal pedicure.
She disagreed, "They should have stopped that series after part two."
I laughed, "You didn't like Joe Pesci?"
"In My Cousin Vinny yes, in Lethal Weapon no. They turned it from a gritty cop series to a formula comedy," she responded seriously.
"Fair enough," I nodded, although I could have argued he plays pretty much the same character in both.
"Thanks," she smiled, as the bell rang.
"No problem," I said, as I glanced back down again to get one last look at the nylon-clad feet I wanted to feel in my hands, to feel stroking my cock, to feel wrapped around my legs, or to feel her toes in my mouth.
"Looking forward to the weekend," she finished, somewhat sing-song, as if an English assessment conference was a good time.
"Me too," I said, although my reason was a fantasy of fucking this hot MILF.
A couple hours later Bethany arrived in my classroom, thankfully in jeans and thus I wasn't distracted all during class. The only thing hotter than fucking a MILF was the idea of fucking a mom and daughter, something I had yet to do. I had fucked a mom and a daughter separately, but never together, my biggest fantasy not yet fulfilled.
That night I jerked off while visions of Collette dropping to her knees under my desk and giving me a blow job danced through my head. Somehow I just knew she would give great head. Her lips were sensual and just looked like great cock sucking lips.
Thursday I only saw her in passing, in a black skirt and black pantyhose.
Her daughter on the other hand, was in a plaid skirt similar to the one her mother had worn the day before, with similar mocha nylons, and as she wrote her Hamlet test, she slipped her feet out of her shoes and literally moved her feet up and down her legs all class... the most erotic fidgeting I had ever witnessed.
My cock was hard the entire hour and I had to readjust behind my desk before doing my walking tour or to go to the whiteboard to answer a question.
Thursday night I jerked off to the fantasy of Bethany using those sexy, cute feet for stroking my cock.
Then came Friday.
Did I expect anything to actually happen?
Not really, but a guy can fantasize.
My hope dwindled when I saw Collette and she was in jeans. I mean it was casual Friday and she usually wore jeans on Friday (yes, I paid attention), but she usually still wore heels and nylons with her jeans, something that was incredibly rare. But today she was wearing runners.
Her daughter was gone for a basketball tournament, thus it was a no nylon day.
The day went by uneventfully and as I was packing up and grabbing my suitcase, which I'd brought in so my clothes wouldn't be frozen as it was bitterly cold outside, Collette walked in and asked, "Ready to go?"
