The sexy black stockings

Yesterday, when I came to work there was a present on my desk wrapped with a note.

 I stared at it, perplexed:

A present for the hottest teacher in the University.

Curious, I opened it and It was a pair of black thigh high stockings.

Who would give me a pair of thigh high stockings? I mean I love stockings but I don’t use it frequently. It’s my own secret rebellion hidden beneath my rather conservative teacher’s attire.

Some people saw me as a caring English teacher, some saw me as a bitch who doesn’t accept excuses for sloppy or tardy work, but none saw the other sides of me.

Because I hid those other two sides of me from almost everybody.

Only my husband, and a one-night-stand partner in the extremely rare lesbian encounter when I travelled, knew of my sexual subservient nature.

In the bedroom I was my husband’s slut. I loved being his obedient submissive. I loved being fucked and used like a bimbo bitch.

I love sucking cock.

I love swallowing cum.

I like getting facials, although I prefer swallowing the yummy load… I do like the submissive humiliation of allowing my man to plant his metaphorical flag of ownership over me with a facial.

I like getting fucked hard… doggy style my favourite.

I even love take it in the ass, although usually only when I’m drunk and really willing to be a hundred percent subservient.

I also love role playing, having a couple dozen costumes where I act out the sluttiest possible version of a character… although with young children and a husband whose work had him gone for weeks at a time… I didn’t get to wear them as much as I would like… or get fucked as much as I like.

I looked back at the gift. These were nice sheer thigh highs… these were expensive and worth it.

As I lifted them up, I noticed there was a second note.

I unfolded it and was again surprised by the words.

I expect you to be wearing these tomorrow, my pet.

It was typed, so I couldn’t analyze the handwriting.

My biggest fantasy… by far… was being seduced and dominated by a young female student. Every year I would have a student who dominated my dreams and was the key female archetype of my stories.

Once it was a cheerleader, another time a popular rich bitch… each who would use me as the secret slut I was.

But, more years than not, I fantasized about one of my shy students being the one to blackmail me and make me her personal pussy pleaser….

This year it was Michelle. So quiet and sweet, a hard working young lady, with excellent marks and, to top it off, she wore pantyhose most days… which, as you know, is my fetish… my greatest personal weakness.

I love the look of them on a female’s legs and especially displaying her feet.

I love the touch of them… especially if they’re sheer silk.

I love a pair of legs wrapped in them and then wrapped around my body as I eagerly eat a pussy (something that has happened only a few precious times).

They also easily distract me.

When I see a student in nylons I almost always stare.

Then I wonder if the nylons she’s wearing are reinforced toe or sandalfoot toe… my preference is for the latter, as I like the clear, clean sheer look; the reinforced toe distracts from the elegance of the shiny look and the contours of the enclosed foot.

I assume that the girl is wearing pantyhose, but in my fantasies she will always be in thigh highs or a garter-belt and stockings… her own sexy secret, like the one I have.

As I re-read the brief note, I focus on two key things:

1. The person is telling me to do something

2. He/She is calling me her ‘pet’… instantly creating a hierarchy in power… one where I am obviously the subservient.

Conflicting emotions swarm through me at the note, the gift.

I am undeniably turned on… the idea of being someone’s submissive is my greatest unresolved fantasy.

I’m petrified… who is doing this? A teacher? A student? A parent? Who? Who? Who?

Not knowing creates instant anxiety as I ponder the implications of the note.

Did someone have a clue I was silkstockingslover? It seemed rather unlikely, but that was the first thing that popped into my head.

Why would they send me nylons?

Why would they order me to wear them?

Who?

Oddly, even as anxiety riddled me with consequences: my job, my reputation and my family all potentially at risk, my panties were sopping wet.

I felt compelled to obey, not out of risk of being ‘outed’ (although that hung above me like a dark storm cloud), but in response to my natural submissive DNA.

That night, my husband gone (all week, actually, as he often was, working in the oil industry).
Somehow, and I don’t know why I assumed this, I knew the person who left me the thigh highs was a girl.

I had no rationale other than a feeling, but I just knew. I wasn’t sure if it was a student, a fellow teacher or even a parent, but I was positive it was female. But who?

So going to my lesbian porn files, I clicked on one of my favourite video clips, ‘Friendly Fuck’ starring Lolo Punzel, Dylan Daniels, and Parker Swayze, and began watching it (I loved the unbelievable but super-hot scenes where a girl is seduced with others around… this one a MILF molesting the daughter of a friend while they are all in the kitchen… I suppose it is like the idea of me being seduced by a student while the rest of the class is oblivious.

The reality is, I enjoy the setup of the sex scene much more than the actual sex scene.

Perhaps because, being female, I like the foreplay that comes before the play, or perhaps it’s because I love creating living, breathing characters that are more outgoing than myself. I create characters that often represent how I wish I could be.

As I watched the lesbian scene, the teenager getting fingered, while the MILF talks to her mother, I imagined a scene where I was about to pay the babysitter while my husband went upstairs to change for bed.

I went to my purse to pay, our babysitter and next door neighbour (a shy girl who I had taught last year… who seemed to be a lot more outgoing this year… including cutting her long black hair short), as Fred went upstairs, having had a little too much to drink.

“How was your evening?” she asked, dressed in a short dress and pantyhose (this is my fantasy after all).

“Fine,” I sighed, annoyed he had drunk so much.

She walked around in front of me and objected gently, “You don’t sound fine.”

As I went through my purse I realized I had no cash. “No, I’m fine. Fred just drank a bit too much.”

“Too drunk for hanky panky?” she asked.

I laughed, “Definitely too drunk for hanky panky. He’s likely asleep already.”

“Well that is a shame,” she said.

“It is also a shame that apparently he spent my last forty bucks at some point,” I admitted. “I’ll have to pay you tomorrow.”

“Well,” she smiled, as she roughly pushed me to my knees and lifted up her skirt, “I think I know a way you can pay me now.”

“Michelle?” I gasped, as I stared at her pussy through the sheer hosiery… surprised to see she hadn’t worn any panties.

“Mrs. Preston,” she purred, looking down at me. “We both know you secretly want to eat teen pussy… all the girls in the school know it.”

“They do?” I asked, not looking at her but at the tantalizing pussy just out of my reach.

She moved her hands to her pantyhose-clad pussy and ripped them at the crotch. “The way you check out girls in pantyhose, especially if they take their shoes off… it’s obvious you’re a lesbian.”

“I’m just easily distracted,” I lied, even as I was distracted by her shaved pussy.

She grabbed my head and pulled me into her wetness as she ordered, “Well, get focused, you secret slut.”

My face swarmed with the sweet scent of teen cunt, a long time fantasy suddenly coming true… I was about to eat teen cunt. I totally forgot she was a student at my school and my babysitter from next door as I began licking.

“Good girl,” Michelle moaned, as her pussy exploded on my taste buds.

“Mmmmmm,” I moaned, the taste even more intoxicating than I had imagined all these years.

“I knew you were a little cunt muncher,” Michelle purred, as she drew her hands through my hair.

I was so intoxicated with her pussy I was indeed her pussy muncher. I licked hungrily as I wanted more pussy juice, I wanted to get her off. As her breathing increased, she let go of my head and leaned against the wall and moaned, “Don’t you fucking stop.”

Sensing she was close, I slid two fingers inside her wetness even as I continued lapping her cunt.

“Oooooooh, yes, you fucking slut teacher,” Michelle moaned loudly… loud enough to alert my husband if by some impossible chance he hadn’t already passed out.

A few more seconds of furious fingering and Michelle came hard… just as I did.