Brian caught the eastbound night bus and was gratified to see some light-hearted couples, clearly excited after dancing at the Palais - his timing was good for a return to his mother’s. 

He’d felt suddenly glum as he walked away from Aunt Pen’s, remorseful even.  Was this ‘post coital tristesse’? There hadn’t been real coitus. Everything but. 

He hopped off the bus a couple of stops early, he needed time to compose his thoughts before he arrived at home. 

THAT had been a complete debauch. He’d never do it again, that was for sure! Sex with Auntie Pen! He didn’t even recognize himself. His dear mother must never find out, that’s what was important.

At his mother’s place, the light above the door had been left on and he felt a little brighter as he entered the house with some small sense of purpose now. 

“Hi, Mum, I’m home!”

“Hello, Brian! Did you have a lovely time?”

“Yeah, pretty good. They had a good band tonight. “

“Dance with anyone? Want some cocoa?”

“Yes, of course, couple of girls”

She looked at him closely as she smiled back.

“I didn’t meet your future daughter-in-law, though.”

While she served them both cocoa she asked, “Did you see the blue moon tonight?”

“Yes, very impressive. I think it’s the first one I’ve seen.”

“They had one when I was a girl,”  she said wistfully. 

“The Major was talking to some of us about them on Friday, said our weather boys have been expecting one, something about peat burning in the tundra, a very rare occurrence.

“Peat fires?”

“Yeah, they put the right kind of smoke particles into the stratosphere apparently, turns the moonbeams blue, and takes the romance away once you know what causes it.”

Brian put his empty cup on the table and leaned over it to kiss his mother’s forehead. “Well, it’s bedtime for me.”

“Brush your teeth, dear.”

He climbed the stairs to his room and found that his mother had left clean pajamas under his pillow, after he put them on he noticed the spine of a thick book on the shelf and pulled it off, It was an old copy of ‘Boys Own Annual’ that he had hollowed out to hide pinup magazines inside.

He opened the volume and saw the lurid cover of an issue of ‘Wink’.  He felt his penis smoothly erect itself against the freshly ironed bottoms of his pajamas. He closed the volume and put it back in its place. 

Lying in bed with his hands behind his head he couldn’t help but marvel at his arousal - was there no satiation for him today?

He rolled onto his left side and could see the moon still shining through his window, it was just above the horizon.

He moved his right hand under the covers and found his cock. It was magnificently hard and his hand felt cool as it gently caressed the swollen corona. 

Brian sighed out loud in his old boyhood room. His overworked urethra throbbed luxuriously, the tingle ran along it all the way to the tight, thin lips of the tip. He knew he would have to wank.

He contemplated his decision for a delicious minute and then slipped carefully out of bed and moved to the door. His rising erection holding the pajamas from his thigh, he peeked down the hall - no light under his mother’s door.

Brian went into the lavatory and left the light off. This room shared the same side of the house as his bedroom and the blue moon shone here too.

He pictured himself as he lay on  Auntie’s library carpet while she knelt above him ministering to his writhing form in this same ethereal light. 

Brian felt the seat of the commode pressing his calves, he let the pajama bottoms drop to the floor, kicked them off, and sat down. He didn’t know why but the dirty-clothes basket caught his eye.

He felt a very deep, almost sick-making thrill in his chest. He got up and went to it, aflame with desire, his mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed hard; on top, there was a green bath towel and then a white long-line bra, ‘oh God, oh God’, he thought.

Beneath the bra, he found the knickers. They stretched as he drew them out from the heavy press of soiled laundry -  then they sprang free, pale candle-colored lady’s briefs, he read the white label sewn in the waistband: Gay-Lee, in black cursive.

He dropped back down onto the commode, his mouth was quite dry now. “I dursn’t,” he thought but knowing the very wrongness of it made it irresistible and he knew he would. 

He held the knickers up before an erection which seemed to defy gravity.  The night was absolutely silent and the moon sitting on the horizon but never sinking made it seem like time had stopped.

The pants showed modest triangles of lace at the outer edges of the leg openings, the rest was smooth expanses of draped nylon, about ten inches from crotch to waistband. 

Outside the window, a night bird flew from right to left across the moon and Brian started.

He lowered the knickers over his cock slowly, passing it through a leg opening he let them descend over it until the gusset touched his scrotum and the tops of his thighs - then he stopped and, barely moving, in thrall to this envelope embracing him, stroking him, as he trembled within it. 

Brian thought about the underwear array that Auntie Pen had laid out for him on the plush aubergine counterpane of her canopy bed. He could see them, a menagerie lying there, quietly posed as if slumbering.  

She meant for him to eventually enjoy them all while she conducted him, hopefully in that heavenly, scented, and bedecked shrine of a bedroom.

Brian tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, lips parted, he used that murky space as a screen to imagine the scene unfolding on his lap where the bottom of his mother’s panties was sweeping delicately over his crotch.

He lowered them by fractions until the cool nylon settled over his parted thighs, nestling on his testicles and the toilet seat that supported them. 

Continuing to pinch the knickers between his thumbs and forefingers he moved them in a slow hula across his genitals while marveling, not for the first time, at the engineer who created nylon and at the mills that wove it. 

Brian arranged the panty waistband so it could be rubbed against his glans, fore and aft against the enpurpled ridge. He threw his right leg over the edge of the bathtub beside the commode, opening his thighs wide to the overpowering feeling as his anus, his perineum, and his scrotum reveled in the luxury of the silken strokes until he couldn’t continue the teasing torture and grasped his cock in the panty folds and jerked himself with a purpose.

‘Oh, oh,’ he thought, nothing could be more natural, nothing more honestly divine than to release himself into the garment, to stain it with the transforming joy that was making him groan, softly, but aloud in the toilet stillness.

He had originally planned to cast the panties aside before he released his load but now he knew that to be impossible.

Feeling free, Brian completely draped his erection in the fabric, and not until he felt the rush beginning in his probing penis did throw the knickers aside after all.

Gasping as the garment slid to his ankle Brian shot his semen in platinum spasms across the moonlit chequered tiles. 

Finally, minutes later, his breathing subsided and he was able to commence his clean-up and return softly to his bedroom. 

Constance Billings answered her telephone on the first ring, indeed she was sitting next to it and still staring at the moonlight reflecting off the French doors of her neighbor’s library beyond her own back garden wall.

“Well, what do you think?” Auntie Pen said excitedly. 

“The young man is as beautiful as you promised,” Constance replied candidly, “and I feel I can now go forward with my plan for Christopher.”

“I’m glad, Connie,” Pen replied.

“Yes, let’s discuss this over elevenses, shall we? Should I send White around with the car?”

“Thanks, but I’ll walk.”

“See you then, Penelope,” the older woman rang off.