Nylon teasers

I thought the tour was over until Jessie opened the bathroom door and led
me into the enchanted forest.

It was the most wonderful place I had ever been. It was large, 15x15 foot
square, with a double-sized, sunken bathtub and double-sized shower. But
forget all that.

The bathroom was a grove of wispy, feathery, ultra-sheer stockings,
hand-washed and lovingly draped over every vertical surface to dry.

There must have been 30 pairs in there, in shades from near-nude to tan to
brown to jet black. All seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe
stockings.

It was the very epicenter of my fantasies. Amazingly, I didn't cream my
pants.

And amazingly, Stephie and Jessie didn't rush me or tease me. They just
let me drink in the arbor of femininity before me.

When my breathing came back to near normal, Stephie said, "Excuse me,
Dwayne. I have to get ready for my date. You and Jessie will be watching
the movie tonight."

Should I have been disappointed? I wasn't. I was excited and confused.
But still in the realm of the somewhat normal.

Then things began to get strange.

Jessie began to natter a bit about how they really liked living there --
location, nice neighbors, yadda, yadda.

Then she led me from the bathroom to the connecting bedroom and I almost
singed my corneas!

Stephie had taken her dress off and was sitting in a chair, slowly and
deliciously removing her stockings. She didn't seem to notice that I was
in the room -- observing as each millimeter of exquisite leg flesh was
revealed to my lustful gaze. Nor did Jessie, who was telling me some story
about a neighbor's dog.

I was staring at Stephie. Bad, I know. Puerile, even. But I couldn't
turn away. Locked in.... Staring....

"Why don't you take a picture, Dwayne? It'll last longer," Jessie said,
quoting Mr. Herman in "Pee Wee's Big Adventure."

I blushed nuclearly and was certain that I would be defenestrated and
banished from the sacred ground forever.