Her stockings glimmered in the light, snakeskin pattern speeding around her legs.
With a will, Tom began feeding himself the nylons as his cock began to stir.
“Good boy,” she said, softly.
Outside the house, heterochromatic eyes watched Tom’s bedroom window. They crinkled as a smile spread over their owner’s weathered features.
“They’re all good boys,” the old woman muttered to nobody in particular. “They just need to be shown the way.”
