Nylon teasers

They came into the video store where I worked as a clerk. Almost every
day.

Teasers.

Both of them.

What made it both great and terrible for me was that it fed my deepest
fetish -- stockings -- as it denied me any fulfillment other than frequent
and frantic "self-gratification."

Stephanie was the blonde. Five foot six. A full head of countless, tight
curls. Swelled, pouty lips. Crystal blue eyes. Absolutely fucking
beautiful. BIG boobs. Maybe 42D. Fantastic, shapely legs. Just the
teeniest hint of plumpness in the face, tummy and hips-- barely enough to
be called voluptuousness. Delightful.

Jessica was the brunette. Five foot eight. Curly, beautifully-styled,
shorter hair. Dark brown, bedroom eyes. A face even more gorgeous than
Stephanie's. Full, heavy boobs, maybe 40C. Long, elegant, stunning legs.

And that was just the beginning.

Both Stephanie and Jessica dressed and carried themselves in ways that
would eliminate the scourge of erectile dysfunction from the world.

Those girls dressed hot and teased exquisitely.

My guess was that girls were in their mid- to late 20s. Both wore tight,
silky blouses that their titties threatened to puncture. Their skirts
(never icky pants) were severely abbreviated. So short that the attentive
could discern their stocking tops.

I was attentive.

Stephanie and Jessica wore skirts, stockings, garter belts and four- or
five-inch-stiletto heels every day of their lovely lives.

Never pantyhose.

Never pants.

And never what passes for "stockings" these days. Their stockings were
throwbacks to a far greater era. Fully-fashioned, 1950s-style stockings.
With reinforced heels and toes. And seams. Oh, how I love seams.

Just describing those stockings to you has me gasping and panting.

Stockings drive me wild.

They always have.

The sight of a beautiful woman's legs in proper stockings gives me a
stiffie. Without fail. Continued exposure to said stockinged legs empties
my testicles. Also without fail.