Caring Ways By Pete Amas. Pete has kindly sent me another of his great stories.

Having recently moved into the area Peter did not yet know any of his neighbours. He had been attracted to the locality by the well-kept lawns, trimmed privet hedges and age profile of the retirees that mainly populated the area. 

He decided to take a walk, It was a quiet balmy evening and the air smelled of freshly cut grass. He could also detect the smell of night scented stock as the evening drew to a close. 

Peter enjoyed a pleasant stroll and on his return, he passed the house next to his, an old-style 1930's house with a wooden veranda and beautifully planted garden. He saw two mature ladies dressed in a curiously dated fashion. One of the ladies was standing shakily on a ladder attempting to water some hanging baskets. Peter, concerned that she would fall ran to assist. 

“Ladies, please let me help you with that,” he called as he ran up the flower-lined pathway then up the steps to the veranda. 

“Oh thank you, dear, how kind”. The lady offered him the watering can as he reached out to take the weight from her. To his surprise, the can was quite heavy and he struggled to handle the weight of water and managed to spill quite a bit on his Harris Tweed jacket. 

He lowered the watering can to the veranda and offered his hand to help her down from the step ladder. 

“What a gentleman you are to take the trouble to help. Let me introduce myself, I am Winifred Goodnight and this is my sister Cecilia”. 

Peter shook Winifred's hand and turned to greet Cecilia. “Good evening Winifred, Cecilia, my name is Peter, I've recently rented the house next door and you are the first neighbours I have had the fortune to meet. May I continue watering your plants for you? You have a most beautiful display, like an old cottage garden”.

“Well, Peter it is a pleasure to meet you. Cecilia, why don't you go and put the kettle on? I’m sure Peter will stay for tea and cake after he has finished watering the plants”, commanded Winifred.  

While Cecilia went into the house Winifred began interrogating Peter as he watered the remainder of the planters. “Aren't you the handsome young chap. No doubt you have a girlfriend somewhere?” She questioned.

Peter blushed being a shy young man. “Well no Winifred, I live alone, I’ve just moved here from the city seeking a slower, quieter pace of life as I’ve not been too well recently.

“How interesting,” Winifred remarked, then added, “I thought you looked a bit pale and underweight, perhaps we can help you to recover your strength?”
Miss Goodnight ushered Peter into the house as she commented. “I note from your clothes that you dress a little eccentric, your garb is more suited for an older person, I am not criticising your mode of dress you understand, you look very dapper, all the same, it’s strange to see such taste in one so young”. 

“Yes”, Peter replied “I buy a lot of my clothes in vintage clothing stores. I love the quality of the fabrics and the cut of older clothes”.

“Well, you must come in and see our dear nephew’s clothes collection He passed away some time ago at the age of thirty-two and we have been reticent to give away the clothes he loved so. They are probably just the sort of vintage clothes look you like to wear. Harris tweed jackets, corduroy trousers, argyle knitted sweaters and cardigans.”

 “That would be great,” Peter answered.

A short while later, Cecilia arrived with a tray wonderfully set with bone china cups, scones, clotted cream and tea. She began to pour as Peter finished watering the last of the planters.

They sat and talked for a good half hour with the two ladies interrogating Peter in some detail as to his background and family status.

Having finished her tea Winifred stood up and took Peter by the hand. “Come along now Peter, let's go and look at our dear nephew’s clothes. I am sure there are things of interest to you young man.”

Winifred was quite forceful as she led Peter by the arm into the house and down a long dark hallway. 

They entered a room at the back of the house, Winifred pulled the curtains flooding the room with light. The room looked out over a beautifully planted rear garden with tall trees defining the boundary. It was quite secluded and had great privacy. 

As Peter turned back toward the room it looked like it had been left the way it was the day the sister's nephew died. On the back of the door hung a beautifully tailored heavy grey trench coat. Beside it hung a vintage brown, woollen dressing gown with a gold braided belt and braid trimming around the sleeves and collar. The bed was made and turned down and resting on a pillow was an exquisite pair of winceyette pyjamas with a wine coloured medallion motif. A pair of brown tartan carpet slippers lay on the floor by the bed.

Peter was taken aback at how spotless the room was and he was drawn to the bed and pyjamas. As Winifred opened a large mahogany wardrobe Peter sat on the edge of the bed and gently caressed the pyjamas. He was nervous about making his gesture but he couldn't resist. For some reason, he had always had an attraction to soft, brushed cotton pyjamas as worn in the nineteen sixties and seventies.

Peter couldn't take his eyes away from the pyjamas; in the wardrobe mirror, Winifred caught his gaze. Putting a Tweed Norfolk jacket back on its hanger, she turned to face him.“Do you like those pyjamas Peter?” she asked. 

Caught off guard by the directness of her question and the fact that she had seen him fondle the pyjamas, he cleared his throat and managed a feeble reply about how he liked the old style pattern and remembered when he was a boy how his mother insisted he wore soft winceyette pyjamas for bed. 

Winifred picked up the pyjama jacket. Unbuttoning it, she began to caress Peters face with the sleeve. The material was soft against his cheek and he could detect a faint smell of rose water as she continued to stroke his face with the soft winceyette material; he began to feel his penis respond in excitement.

“Would you like to put on our dear nephew’s pyjamas, Peter?” Winifred almost whispered as Cecilia entered and stood beside her sister. 

“I’m sure Cecilia and I would be very happy to see you wearing and enjoying them.”

Peter could hardly answer, he was excited at the thought of the lovely pyjamas embracing his body but he felt himself slightly shaking his head, feeling overawed by what was happening. 

“Now, now Peter, don't be shy,” Cecilia cooed. “What if you tried on the jacket? What harm could that do?”

Winifred glided toward him and removed Peter’s Tweed jacket, she undid his tie and began to unbutton his shirt. She handed the shirt and tie to Cecilia who in return handed Winifred the pyjamas jacket.

Winifred took the pyjama jacket and held it almost reverentially by the shoulders and invited Peter to extend his arm. Slowly and with great ceremony, she slipped the right sleeve up his arm and across his shoulders. Wordlessly he proffered his left arm to the same effect.

For a moment the soft winceyette jacket brushed his stomach before Winifred drew the jacket together, closing the top button and working her way downward.

The buttons had yellowed with age and almost blended into the colour of the pyjamas. Small goosebumps made the hair on Peter's body stand erect as the winceyette embraced his body. 

Winifred placed her hands upon his shoulders and turned him to face the mirror on the wardrobe door. He saw that the hem of the pyjama jacket fell a long way down his torso and as the long sleeves extended to obscure his hands he was confronted with the contradiction that no matter how beautiful the pyjamas felt he felt weak and disempowered in the company of these imposing ladies.

By now, Peter’s penis was fully erect beneath his corduroy trousers. He was desperate for the sisters to complete his pyjamaring but mortified at the thought of them seeing his obvious excitement.

“Oh Peter, don't you look exquisite in your lovely jim-jams Are you prepared to go all the way now?” He was by now beyond resisting and feebly nodded his approval. 

Winifred started to undo his belt and trousers as Cecilia knelt to remove his shoes and socks. As his bare feet touched the deep pile carpet he squelched his toes gripping the carpet to anchor himself in his new reality as Winifred stepped him out of his white cotton underpants to expose his excitement.

“Well, now Cecilia, it looks like Peter is aroused by this whole affair. I’m sure that will change in time after he has experienced numerous pyjamarings.” She commented intriguingly. 

Cecilia had made a small puddle of flannel on the floor with the pyjama bottoms. She took Peter’s left leg and placed it in the middle of the puddle and began to draw the bottoms up. When they were halfway up to his knee she took his right leg and placed it into the bottoms. Peter gasped as the winceyette swept past his thighs and up toward his groin and caressed his penis. 

Cecilia now focused her gaze on Peter’s face as she slowly encircled his waist and ensured that she tucked the hem of the pyjama jacket deep inside the pyjama trousers. Six inches of pure white pyjama cord dangled from each side of the bottoms, she tied the ends together above his belly button so tightly that he gasped.

Peter could see his pyjamaed self in the full-length mirror, the sleeves of his arms flapped with excessive winceyette and likewise, the pyjama legs had a surfeit of material cascading over his obscured feet. He was both elated and scared and a little ashamed having been dressed so provocatively in an old-fashioned pair of pyjamas by two strangely dominant older women. He just wanted to become as one with the winceyette and let all his worries disappear.

Cecilia approached Peter from behind and draped the brown woollen dressing gown over his shoulders. Lifting his arms into the dressing gown she closed the gown and tied the belt around his waist. Winifred then placed the matching tartan carpet slippers upon his feet. 

How could this have happened? Within five minutes he had been stripped of his clothing and now stood in the bedroom of two complete strangers wearing cosy pyjamas, dressing gown and carpet slippers. Yet hadn’t he loved every exciting moment of it?

Winifred looked at Cecilia and smiled. “Cecilia darling I think we have just found a replacement for our dear nephew. It looks like our pyjamaring skills will be needed again.”

Cecilia pulled open the other wardrobe door to reveal shelf after shelf of vintage pyjamas all in soft winceyette and in a myriad of patterns from traditional stripes to medallion prints and paisley swirls.

“Yes, Winifred, I was beginning to fear that dear nephew’s jimmy-jams would never be worn again but happily, we now have Peterkins to administer pyjamarings to. It appears we will extract many years of life out of the pyjamas yet.” 

Peter was in a daze as he was led downstairs, as Cecilia told him he needed his warm milk to aid a good night’s sleep.

Winifred squeezed his shoulders as he sipped his milk. “Happy Peterkins?” she asked.

He nodded dreamily, feeling he should be perturbed at being addressed by such an infantile name yet somehow he decided he rather liked it.

“That’s good,” she smiled. “It’s fortunate for you that we are your landladies, the property you rented is ours so you can stay here indefinitely. You will call us Aunt Cecilia and Aunt Winifred and receive at least five pyjamarings a day. You will spend your days enveloped in the softest winceyette pyjamas with your last pyjamaring being at six o’clock after which you will be put straight to bed. When the weather is clement we will wheel you out into the garden in your vintage bath chair where you can enjoy the benefits of the sun in the company of your Aunts and some of our friends. Now then, let’s get you snugly into beddy-byes shall we?”

Upstairs, Winifred and Cecilia pulled back the bedclothes and removed Peter’s dressing gown and slippers, guiding him into the bed they tucked him in and each kissed him goodnight.

Peterkins snuggled down to revel in the comforting embrace of his pyjamas.