For my evening encounter with Brian, I put on a pair of scarlet knickers and a black basque.

On my last trip to London, I had bought some jet black, silk toreador pants at Harvey Nicks, I had been dying to wear them and this was their moment. Over these, I wore a thin semi-sheer blouse and slipped into some patent black mules. 

Brian knocked precisely at nine and I let him in, he red had on a boat neck jersey with a pale blue Breton stripe. I rubbed my palms around his chest and kissed his cheek. 

“Mm,” I said, “is the French fleet in?”

“What’s left of it.”

I took his wrist and turned, leading the way to the couch and making sure his knuckles brushed my tightly packed fanny as I sauntered. 

“Some Sherry?” I asked rhetorically as I poured him a tiny goblet. I handed it down to him but remained standing while I sipped mine. 

“How’s camp life? Who did you say your major was?”

He was scanning me ravenously, as I’d known he would and I contrived to turn casually so he could take me in from all sides. 

“Major Sampson”, he managed, gulping, “he runs our section.”

“I know him,” I replied, my crimson lips were shiny with the sherry, “Signal Corp, right?”

“Yeh, uh,  yes,” Brian was getting all my signals. There was the red line of the knickers’ waistband separating the top of my pants and the hem of the basque that hugged my torso and it was all clearly visible through the thin fabric of my blouse.

The toreadors had a button closure down my left hip which left thin gaps designed to flash a lewd vertical smile in any color m’lady chose to wear underneath.

Brian’s eyes were wide. I bent down to take his glass. “I’ll refill that for you later,” I said and sat at his left, our hips touching.

I pulled his face towards me for our first long kiss. His pretty mouth tasted sweet. I opened my lips to let my tongue taste more. I sighed as my passion mounted and our breathing became synchronous, 

 It was strange, as we continued to osculate I detected a tentativeness as if the boy were feeling his way in this dance. Was it possible he had never kissed like this before and more than that, could Brian be a virgin? An alarming thought, but also, I had to admit, an intriguing one. 

I broke off the kiss to take up his earlobe with my gently nibbling teeth. “Slow down, Darling, I have lots of plans for us,” I whispered hotly while I placed my hand on his knee..

I switched back to his mouth and moved my stroking hand, upward until I met his cock, which was struggling to erect itself under his khaki trousers, restrained, no doubt,  by some medieval male undergarment.

There had been no nineteen-year-old virgins in the London of the Blitz when I was a teenager - if you didn’t give it to a soldier today a Heinkel might take it tomorrow. Still, these were saner times and this wasn’t London.

I left the couch and whispered sharply: “stand up,

Kick off those plimsolls.”

He obeyed and I undid his fly. “Let’s  take off those trousers.” I dropped to my knees to pull them off his feet as he stepped out of them. I arose and continued our kiss.

Finally, we took a breath. Standing pressed together I kissed his nipples. Our breathing took on a more measured cadence as we both shared sips from my sherry glass

I sighed and stared at his delicate face as I continued to gently rub the front of his undershorts, I’d guessed correctly about them, they may even have been ‘army issue’, well, that would soon change.

His penis stood fully upright against his belly inside the grey linen. I let my hand wander down to take up his balls, pendulous now, full and heavy with promises for me.

“Oh, Auntie,” he sighed, deeply and sincerely.

“Oh, Brian,” I murmured back as my hand danced around his genitals. “Oh, my lover.”

We both had weak knees and slipped back down to the couch. Brian’s hands played over my body exploring the contours of my breasts and rib cage, fascinated by the architecture imposed upon them by the artful seam-work of the close-fitting black basque and the delicious texture that the expensive lace sheath revealed to him.

The fingers of his right hand frequently slid across the taut silk of my toreador pants to find those four buttons and the tender, warm hillocks of pantied flesh that bulged between them. 

For my part, I undid the buttons of his ridiculous shorts to allow his cock free access to the room and I cupped its pulsing head with my palm, contracting it gently in time with his throbbing heartbeat.

But now it was time for his surprise, I stood and hooked a finger in his shorts and led him to my bedroom where the furnishings loomed in the moonlight streaming through lace curtains.

I switched on the table light beside the bed and revealed an assortment of my prettiest knickers arranged on the counterpane.

Brian’s mouth hung open in wonder, he blinked and his breathing became quick and hard with desire. I was watching his eyes but my gaze was soon drawn to his cock which began twitching like the head of a horse eager to gallop.

“Brian, which of them do you like best?”

His eyes roved greedily over the assortment, he didn’t seem to have heard the question. I picked up a pair from the bed at random and held them up in front of me.

Flourishing the silky garment I said: “Pick the knickers you find most intriguing, Darling, I want you to wear them for me.” 

“Am I to wear them now, Auntie ?”

“Oh, yes. I think you’ll find it very exciting!” I dropped the pair I’d been holding back on the bed.

Brian ran his hands over the array as if he were mixing a deck of cards prior to a conjuring trick. There were twelve of them, a rainbow assortment in many styles. He picked up a yellow pair of chiffon knickers for a moment then put them back. Soon he settled on a pair of white panties. They were the least wicked of the dozen but they had sex appeal to spare. 

“Let’s get these off, Darling,” I tugged down his grey drawers and Brian stepped out of them, his cock taking a respite from its full salute during this decisive moment. 

I proffered the knickers, holding them open with my fingers in the waistband. The white depths with their silky folds, creamy in the tender shadows invited the novitiate to slide them on.

My soldier boy did this in a slow, almost awed manner and we both watched the elasticated pucker of the leg holes smooth out, stretching as they ascended his thighs.

I stepped back to take in the result. They really were the perfect choice. The knickers’ domesticity, of course, was not completely guileless - there was the demure waist trim and the slightly more assertive lace around the legs.

The pantywaist crossed the lad’s abdomen just above his belly button which was revealed as a sweet dimple in the pale nylon.

The effect was toothsome but the true intent of the garment was revealed by matching lace panels that climbed the front of the knickers from the leg openings on either side of the gusset up to the waist.

These two-inch wide scrims of delicate lace tracery revealed the flesh beneath and in the left side window-like panel I could see the head of Brian’s tumid member slide upward toward his navel. 

I put my fingers on this silky bulge and gently moved him sideways and enjoyed looking at the lineaments of his excitement stretching the fabric outward in a most revealing manner.

I was gratified to see how well the panties cupped his buttocks gently lifting them, enhancing them with an ivory sheen.

“Come with me ,Darling,” I murmured, knowing he was unlikely to do otherwise, being absolutely enraptured and beyond rigid in the thrall of an ultimate arousal. 

I took him through to the French doors of my library and drew back the curtains. The unlit room revealed a little of itself in the bright light of the full moon.

“Brian, there is a washing line at the back of the garden, almost against the wall. I have an apron hanging there, will you bring it to me?”

I opened both doors and the cool night air drifted in. I pressed my right hand to the middle of his bottom to guide him forward and he stepped out onto the garden path without a comment and moved into the diaphanous blue light.

The hedges that lined my garden offered privacy, and although there was a tall wall at the end of the garden, anyone peering through an upper window of the house behind it could have seen Brian flitter by if they knew to look. 

I watched his progress with satisfaction. HER progress I should soon start to say; my knickers’ zodiac had allowed Brian to self-select his identity as a Princess, that most sublime of girly personas.

Brian arrived at the apron which floated like a ghost on the distant line. I watched as he removed the garment, examined it closely and slipped his slender arms through the ties.

I could see when he turned around that the tyro actually wore it, unfastened, as he started the return journey.

I couldn’t help but think of Jason as he stole away from the mesmerized python with the golden fleece secreted around his body. It was a bold, heroic exploit that would ironically begin Brian’s transformation into something soft and yielding. 

He passed back through the French doors and I saw a light in an upper window of the house beyond the wall wink briefly on and off behind him.

I closed the doors and faced him as I unbuttoned my sheer blouse and dropped it on a desk, likewise, my toreador pants were peeled.

I demanded he give me the apron. I put it on, making a large bow with its waist ties, working expertly behind my back, watching his face as he stared at my figure as it was revealed behind the tulle fabric, in the red knickers and the black basque. The crisp apron with its flouncy bib hid them not at all.

 I could see his penis which had become flaccid due to the gravity of the quest he had just undertaken, start to grow inside the white panties.

Soundlessly I brought him down with me to the Turkish carpet and we laid full length upon it in that old family library surrounded by several lifetimes’ worth of collected books.

The cool air smelt of old paper, mould and leather and most of all of the dryness, but we were both full of wetness and warmth and in our lust, the room seemed to throb with a desire to suck that from us.

Propped on my left elbow I leaned over Brian and played across his thighs with my right hand. He groaned when I slipped a finger inside the Lacy leg openings and pulled gently on the elastic exploring the fit of his knickers.

I moved to a kneeling position beside his supine form so I could trace the waist fabric and he sighed, 

“Oh, Auntie, Auntie…”

“Yes, Darling,” I whispered back, “do you like it?”

“Oh, yes, Auntie, oh yes…”

My fingers traced the clerestory of tautly stretched lace that ran up each side of his tented knickers then I rubbed the outline of his erection, up and down through the nylon.

“That’s lovely, Auntie, that’s lovely!”

His hips were rocking now, his pelvis moving in tempo to his mounting arousal. I nudged his thighs apart and took up his testicles in a delicate grip, cradling the silky bulge in my cupped palm. Brian bent his knees and arched as I coaxed him with my hold. 

“Auntie?” It was a question.

“Ssshh,” I hushed him. 

“Oh, Auntie!”

Shifting on the carpet I tugged open the knickers’  waistband with my right hand the better to reach inside to take the measure of his rigid length with my left. Sliding over the engorged helmet of Brian’s cock I slowly wiggled my fingertips down and over his balls, taut and bouncy fruit, primed and absolutely full from the evening’s teasing.

It should be said now, that the slit of the young man’s cock was quite wet, glistening with the backed-up pressure that must soon have release, whether we both willed it or not. In fact, it was leaving wet kisses on the soft flesh on the inside of my wrist as I explored his shaft. 

The boy shuddered as I continued my torment beneath the stretched tent of the lacy white pants. With the swollen sheath of his urethra rubbing up and down on my soft inner forearm he desperately tried to bring himself off and ejaculate into the crook of my elbow. I disallowed this and continued to trace the root of his erection deep beneath his perineum where he was as hard as India rubber.

With my fore and ring fingers, I parted the cheeks of his bottom while the pad of my middle finger strummed his puckered anus.

I heard him murmur softly. I knocked on the door inquisitively again. The huge gulp I heard from his throat and the blush of thrilled humiliation which I could not see but gathered from his sudden quivering, gave me his assent and I undertook a half-inch insertion.

Brian parted his legs and his pelvis gyrated. I let him enjoy the finger for a long moment before I plucked it out. 

“I have to remove your knickers now,” I whispered. 

He lifted his hips and I slipped the garment over his ankles and returned to his middle. Laying my cheek on his warm thighs I kissed and nuzzled the flesh of his groin. His swollen balls pressed hotly on my cheek and his erection brushed up the side of my face to bury its head in thick hair above my left temple. 

He was gasping rapidly and I wondered what it would be like if he ejaculated now! In fact, my cinematic imagination showed me the scene quite clearly, in colour.

Kneeling again I brought the panties in my hand slowly up the carpet between his parted thighs and over his cock. Holding the knickers by the waist I played with his twitching rod, flaying it gently with the gusset and lacy panels.

Brian’s hands lay curled, palms up beside his head in passive surrender, though his hips arched up, bucking as he followed my dancing hand. He twisted his groin in a clockwise spiral as he moaned, “Oh, oh, oh…”

I bunched the knickers about the swollen, purple cockhead and made a flower with lace petals and pumped assertively.

“Auntie, I’m going to come,” he declared.

“That’s my girl! That’s my girl!” I said, then, “Oh, my darling!”

The flower spurted. It spat across my pinafore and over its starched wings, semen brushed my cheek. My right wrist was spotted and my fist holding its hybrid bloom glistened. 

It was a long time before we lay still, panting in the dry library as it greedily inhaled the wet, yeasty smell from the christening font of my new princess.

One thing was certain, I mused later as I sent Brian home from my front door; if my soldier-princess really was a virgin when they entered this evening, technically they still were when they left. 

 I waited a minute or two before I picked up the phone and dialled a local number. It was answered on the first ring. 

“Well, what do you think?” I asked.