I have posted this elsewhere over the years but you might not have seen it. This is a description of my first sexual experience in diapers as well as my reaction to it in a three-day period. It's long, so the tl;dr version is: every single orgasm I've had since has involved a diaper and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I do not know what triggered my diaper fetish. What I can tell you that I had a remarkably normal childhood, was toilet-trained at an average age, and did not ever regress into bedwetting. I recall feeling somehow jealous of my younger sisters who were still in diapers after I was out of them, but only acted on this emotion once when I temporarily stole a pair of plastic panties from their supply and wore them for one night in secret. I recall sweating a lot in them and for that reason didn't repeat the experience. However, I used to enjoy seeing and feeling the nylon material of the panties while they were packed in my sisters' drawers ready for use. There was never an overt cause for my 'interest', and my parents never knew I had it. A couple of years later, my sisters graduated toilet-training with flying colours and this episodic exposure to the pants and diapers was over, but never really forgotten. Then, years later, by a remarkable set of coincidences, I found myself helplessly drawn into wearing diapers and plastic pants, probably never to esape the pleasure they give.
The catalyst was puberty. I discovered masturbation quite late in my development (at about the age of 14), and in a roundabout way. Initially, all I knew was that whenever I put a diaper on, my penis would immediately stiffen into a ramrod and get in the way of me pinning it on. For some reason, I didn't associate the erection with sexual pleasure, but that was because I didn't know what sexual pleasure was, but that was all to change on that fateful day when I was 14 or so. But I am getting ahead of the story. I said that after I tried my sisters' waterproof pants on one night at about the age of 5, I didn't repeat the experience. That held true for all of my childhood. Then along came puberty at the age of 13, I felt irrestisibly drawn towards wearing diapers and waterproof pants, just because it felt 'right'. They made me feel safe in a time of personal turmoil. I never told anyone of this and committed significant resources towards the purchase of large towelling diapers and the largest white nylon plastic pants that I could find in the stores around where we lived. We had a very large house with more than an acre of wooded garden, and, as luck would have it, my bedroom was in a wing away from the rest of the family (all three of my sisters had their own rooms in the main part of the house) and it had a sliding door leading onto the pool deck.
After I brought my diapers and waterproofs home, my routine was pretty much set for each night. I would do my homework, show it to my mother and then retire to my room for the evening. After taking a shower in the bathroom that was for my exclusive use, I would towel myself dry and then stand in front of a full-length mirror and carefully pin on one of these fluffy white diapers. [As an aside here : my fetish has not much to do with the diapers themselves, but rather and exclusively with the plastic pants. I use the diaper to make the experience more 'genuine' if you know what I mean. I reason that there is little point in wearing pants that are supposed to cover a diaper without wearing the diaper itself. And besides, the diaper absorbs the sweat that comes from having plastic so close to one's skin, and more...]. The mirror was important to get the pins in exactly the right place, a task that was complicated by me having to keep pushing my eager penis back down into the inviting folds of the diaper. Then, as the piece de resistance, I would unfold a glorious pair of nylon waterproofs, rolling the white material between my fingertips to hear its characteristic crackling sound, and pull them over the diaper and (what seemed to me to be) the huge bulge of my straining 13-year-old penis. As I said earlier, these erections got in the way (much to my annoyance) up until the age of 14. And then EVERYTHING changed...
I remember the first time I masturbated clearly, although it was nothing as simple as stroking myself as normal people might have done. No - I was busy with the nightly ritual of putting myself into a diaper and then into bed, when my unruly penis broke free of the 'waistband' of the diaper at the moment I was pulling the waterproofs up over the towelling; its head actually touched the rustling plastic, and time stood still. My hips began to pump uncontrollably, I might have gasped aloud while looking down at the rapidly-swelling head that had suddenly gone a deep purple colour, simultaneously with an unbearable wave of pleasure spreading throughout my groin.
And then it happened : I shot What even to me today at the age of 31 was an incredible amount of cum onto the mirror in front of me before falling over backwards in what can only be described as a dead faint. I lay twitching with pleasure for more than ten minutes before I was able to sit up and survey the results. My penis, which had gone flaccid after my first ejaculation was already on the way up again, my waterproofs were still only half on, and the mirror was literally covered in massive gobs of white semen, some of which had followed gravity downwards and were pooling on the carpet. [An interesting fact was that two days after this truly awesome event, my mother asked me about a stain a foot ABOVE the full-length mirror in my bedroom which I saw instantly and to my horror was dried and yellowing semen. I professed not to know what it was, and cleaned it off immediately]. I stood up shakily and tried to put my throbbing penis into the diaper, but it was too hard to bend and was very sensitive to the touch. I lay down on my bed and tried to work it into the diaper sideways, while pulling the waterproof pants onto and over the diaper with my other hand.
And it happened again! As I heard the nylon crackle, I shot my next load without warning straight off the bed at an angle of 90 degrees to hit the opposite wall (with some collateral damage to the bed linen). This time, it took me longer to recover. I lay moaning, shuddering and writhing for what seemed like hours. My dick was so sensitive that the slightest movement brought on exquisite pain, but eventually the erection subsided and I was able to do what I had been trying to do for the last hour : to put my penis where I had wanted it in the first place - inside the diaper. I fell off the bed, crawled to the bathroom to get a roll of toilet paper for the cleanup operation. I was dazed, confused and operating on auto-pilot. I had known the facts of life in abstract; my parents had briefed me many years earlier and I had picked up snippets of wild stories, rumours and speculation at school, but had never really put the two together. I'm sure I was the last of my class to ejaculate, but I had done it without actually touching myself deliberately. It was a lot for a naive youngster to assimilate all at once! All I knew that night was that those glorious white nylon waterproof pants (with their ancillary diaper) were responsible for the greatest pleasure that I had ever experienced. I was determined to hold on to and enhance that feeling at all costs. I fell asleep with an erection making a tent out of my diaper under the blankets, sure in the knowledge that this secret would make me happy for the rest of my life.
I had never been an early riser, but the next morning I woke at 5 a.m. with a hardon to beat all hardons. The boner was pointing straight down in my diaper, and I sleepily ran a hand over the outside of the plastic pants to feel its outline. It was immense. I began to stoke the plastic, and felt my hips involuntarily rise to meet my hand. The powers of my subconscious had clearly been active while I was asleep, pulling together all the fragments of information I knew about sex and masturbation, and I found myself forming the traditional shape with my right hand and grabbing my penis through the padding and plastic of my diaper. Then instinct took over, and I began to gently pump up and down, moving the towelling back and forth over my bursting organ with such beautiful slowness and accompanied by the sound of my gently crackling plastic pants. Within ten seconds it was all over. My subconscious hadn't been the only thing active overnight - my 14 year-old prostate had produced enough ejaculate to make up for previous evening's excesses - and I spurted a huge load of semen into the waiting terry towelling. In fact, I clearly remember lying paralysed on my back after that orgasm with an ocean of liquid making its way up the crack of my backside! And I swear that I heard the impact of my cum hammering into the towelling buried deep inside my diaper, a sound I will never forget and still try to recreate to this day.
I must have fallen asleep again, only to be awoken by the intercom and the voice of my mother insisting that it was 7 a.m. and that I was about to miss breakfast on a school day. In some ways I was a lot sharper back then, thought on my feet, and reported myself to be feeling ill. [Gee Whiz : I had just discovered orgasms, and needed time to experiment!] My mother said that she would be in to check just as soon as she had finished dishing up for my sisters. There was not a second to lose : I quickly removed the diaper, returned everything to the hiding place I had devised high up the false top of a glass-fronted bookcase that stood in my room, put my normal pyjama bottoms on, ran my hands under the cold tap for a minute, splashed some cold water on my brow, drew a glass of hot water from the tap in my bathroom and secreted it under my bed, and dived into it as my mother came fussing into the room to see what ailed her only son. Little did she know! As per standard operating procedure, my mother found my hands and brow to be clammy and cold, and me to be running a temperature of a couple of degrees above 100. (Dunking the thermometer into the hot water for two seconds while my mother's back was turned looking for draughts generally had this effect I had found). I was thus declared to be too ill to go to school, and so began my voyage of self-discovery...
As the house descended into silence after my father left for work, I climbed the shelves and pulled my stash of diapers and waterproofs from their hiding place. I soon discovered that the diaper that I had worn until an hour ago was not wearable again (or at least not until I had washed and dried it) : there was a stiffening area of dried semen roughly the size of my hand in the depths of the diaper, and so I put it aside for the washing machine. [For years, I had crept into the scullery in the depths of the night to wash one or two diapers in the washing machine when everyone else was asleep. After this day, I saw the washing load increase dramatically. It was a miracle that I was not discovered sneaking around using the machine after midnight three or four times a week!] I decided to recreate the entire sequence of the previous evening, starting with a shower. After all, I had had rather a sweaty experience and felt dirty.
In the shower, I soaped all over, and then under the spray began to play with my penis. It felt pretty good, but I never became more than half erect. "Ho Hum," I thought, and dried myself off and moved back into my bedroom. Standing in front of the mirror, with a new diaper ready in my hand, two pins in my mouth, I thought I detected a change in my behaviour. Yes, there it was : my penis was busy pumping itself up, already parallel to the floor in anticipation of the plastic pants to come. I knew at that point that I would never be out of them again. I turned sideways to view myself in profile, and then, as all young boys do at some point, went to the desk to find a ruler. I had to know just how big this thing was anyway : it certainly looked massive attached to my 14 year-old body. The ruler said 7 inches and I knew that this wasn't as big as it could get, so I kept the ruler nearby and started to fold the diaper and put it on. The tension was mounting and I could feel my dick getting harder and harder and harder. There - the last pin was in, the diaper was sitting comfortably around my hips, and I had deliberately left my dick pointing upwards out of it. Time for the ruler again. Seven-and-a-half inches, and rock hard. The head was already turning dark red, and pre-cum (which I had never seen before) was bubbling out strongly. I scooped some of the fluid up with my finger and tasted it : salty. I liked it. Then I couldn't wait any longer. I needed those plastic pants over this diaper and I needed them yesterday. As I thought that thought, I felt my penis harden even more and my balls contract. Like a zombie, I moved over to the bed where they lay, and picked them up. They made a soft rustling sound as I opened them up, and I popped the studs down their sides slowly, one at a time. I was literally at bursting point (and amazed at how far I had come in less than 12 hours), but stopped myself and grabbed the ruler. An 8 inch rod of iron! Dropping the ruler on the floor, I fell backwards onto the bed and on top of the open, beckoning white nylon pants. I had just managed to grab the front and back waist elastics in either hand and to click a single press-stud into place on the left hand side of my secret underwear when my back arched uncontrollably and I came. Lying on my back with my penis aimed straight at my face, I literally got a face full of cum. After the wracking spasms had subsided, and my breathing had returned to normal, I wiped my face with my hand and tasted what amounted to nearly a handful of semen. I found that I still liked the taste, and to this day will eat it out of my hand if I come on my stomach, something I do about half of the time I masturbate, which is pretty often as you will come to see if you can bear to read further.
I pushed my (temporarily) soft penis into the warm folds of my diaper and then carefully did up all the press studs along the sides of the plastic pants. As I fastened them and listened to the plastic crackle, I felt my loins begin to stir again, but not with as much force as they had before. Time, I thought, to try out some of the 'tips' given to me by class-mates that I hadn't really understood until now, but which were now falling into place. [My buddies had been making the sign of the clenched fist for many years already, but now it was starting to make sense to me...] I pulled my semi-erect member out of the diaper and wrapped my fist around it. A flicker of response. I moved my hand tentatively up and down. A bit more response. "Now what?" I thought. Up until then, all three of my orgasms had been automatic with minimal intervention. I still had some way to go in finding out how this thing called masturbation really worked. I experimented for another ten minutes, with my dick gradually getting bigger and harder as I worked. I had no feel for what was required, and was very inexperienced as you will shortly see. I adjusted grip and frequency of stroke, but it seemed as though I was flogging an inanimate object. Then, by chance, my pumping hand started brushing against the fabric of my waterproofs, and everything became very clear. (And in certain respects, I can say that I was much slower then than I am now in working some things out). I went totally ape. My right hand was pumping my throbbing cock which instantly doubled in size, and my forearm was touching the waistband and some of the plastic of my pants every so often, but after the first chance contact, I moved my left hand which had just been lying next to me waiting for a job to do onto the bulk of the diaper and waterproofs, so as to caress that beautiful white nylon and to make it make that distinctive noise. As my left hand made contact with huge mound of material between my legs, my right hand tightened its grip of its own accord and started moving so fast it blurred. I ejaculated instantaneously but with far less force than a quarter of an hour before (not surprisingly), but it felt immensely satisfying until I let go of my rapidly softening shaft, when I found that I had quite severely injured myself. In my naivete, my first manual wank was performed with no lubrication at all. I had literally grazed the skin off the underside of the head of my penis with a combination of grip and speed, and was definitely in some pain. [I am convinced that if I had looked at my right hand at that point, it would have been smoking!] I was so shagged out by this time, though, that I managed to put my now very small penis into the diaper, roll onto my side, and go to sleep.
I woke at about two that afternoon, somewhat the worse for wear. I was erect again, but every time I moved, the towelling of my diaper rubbed against my self-inflicted injury causing me to catch my breath at the pain. With some difficulty, I pulled my penis out of the waistband of the waterproofs so that the top half was exposed to the cooling air. It helped for a couple of seconds, and then the air dried it out and a new kind of pain started. [I am circumcised, so there was no foreskin to protect me from myself]. I knew I had to find some ointment to sooth me, and so I went prowling about the house, ending up in my mother's dressing room, where I found a jar of Pond's Cold Cream. Acting on instinct, I applied a liberal dose, and felt instant relief. The erection strengthened as the pain left, and I was left with a big pole with a dollop of white cream at its tip. I started rubbing it in so that it wouldn't fall off and stain the carpet, and found the second rule of masturbation quite by accident - always have a good lubricating agent nearby. Wow! It felt so good rubbing it in, and from where I was standing in front of a lot of mirrors, the view was very exciting. Right hand slowly rubbing in the cream, left hand automatically moving in circles over the bulk of a diaper contained in a pair of delightfully wrinkled and crinkly snow-white nylon waterproofs out of which sprouted my cream-streaked and straining manhood. I could see and feel the waistband and legs of the waterproofs moving millimetrically and erotically up and down my hips and thighs as I inexorably kneaded and pushed the plastic. In the confined space of my mother's dressing room with its four reflective mirrors, the sound those pants made together with the squelching of my right fist as I stroked my penis towards orgasm was indescribable. Having started to rub the cream in to avoid messing the carpet, I was unable to stop a firehose of cum spraying a million dots and globules into the deep pile. I greyed out with pleasure, and came to lying flat on my back with my hand holding my soft shaft and the clock marching towards 14h30 - the time my sisters were due back from school. I cleaned up as best I could and unashamedly stole my mother's cream to put with my stash of diapers and waterproofs. On getting back to my bedroom, I took off the diaper that had given me so much pleasure that day, put it with the other one to be washed and climbed into bed for another zizz. I must have been smiling like a Cheshire cat in my sleep, because my mother came in, felt my forehead, and as I woke, pronounced me cured. I remember wondering how I would cope in school for the whole day without an orgasm - a miraculous question for a boy who was all but asexual until 24 hours before this. As it turned out, I couldn't make it through the daylight hours without at least two orgasms (I had created a monster in myself) and so began the life I still live to this day - permanently in diapers and turned on most of the time. But I'm getting ahead of myself again. I need to tell you how I started wearing them to school, and how I met a woman with sort-of the same set of needs as I had, by sheer good luck or an act of God (I don't know which).
I masturbated once more by accident at about 10 pm just lying in my bed and lazily applying some of my mother's cream to my penis inside the diaper. It was still on fire from the injury I had done myself earlier that day, and I was only trying to stop the burning. As I shifted my body to allow better access, the sheets slipped across the plastic of the pants with a soft, intimate rustling sound, my dick hardened in a flash to the consistency of concrete and I shot another load into the towelling. My hips humped the air for ten or fifteen strokes while I stopped breathing, I fell back onto the bed shuddering uncontrollably and was deeply asleep seconds later. [Then, as now, I have little control over an orgasm when those pants speak their piece, and even today I hardly have to touch myself to shoot. This sometimes makes life difficult, but, hey, the exquisite pleasure of the quality orgasm more than makes up for this. Thinking about this, I am sure that most people would not be able to understand this type of auto-eroticsm.]
I went to school the next day not wearing a diaper. I hadn't thought far ahead enough that morning as I was getting ready, and it turned out to be a mistake. I walked from class to class in a trance, remembering nothing. My head was filled with the memories of the indescribable pleasure I had given myself the day before, and the longing to do it again - right now. I spent the entire day picturing my diapers lying in their hiding place, waiting to be worn. I saw myself in front of the mirror in my waterproofs, saw the light catching their myriad creases and folds, heard them swish as I walked backwards and forwards, felt the white-hot cum exploding into the terrycloth towelling in audible spurts. I sat in class, lost in my fantasy world, with my hardon straining against the wooden desk until break time when I made a dash for the toilets. I had never been big on shared facilities : I thought that they were unhygenic and smelled bad, and so in my first year of high school had scouted all the facilities at my rather large school. A couple of months into the first semester and I struck paydirt : the toilets at the back of the school hall were never used by the student body, probably because they were far out of the way of the usual hangouts. I made a beeline for my sanctuary, locked myself in the stall and dropped my pants. My half-erect penis sprang out and I was surprised to see the huge wet spot on the front of my underpants. I took myself in hand and immediately aggravated my still raw injury : I had forgotten to bring lubricant. Not wanting to waste any time, I popped the lock on the door, shuffled to the sink with my trousers around my ankles, and took a generous amount of liquid soap from the dispenser mounted on the wall and returned to the stall. Much better - my slick fist moved up and down my shaft with no resistance, and it felt good. I kept it up for ten minutes, but my body wasn't close ejaculation. The soap started to dry out. I got some more and carried on. Still pleasurable, but going nowhere. Another ten minutes passed and the soap started drying out again. What was missing? Why was I here? I heard the bell warning of five minutes to end of break. "Back to class without diapers," I thought to myself. And the instant I thought the word 'diapers', my dick hardened and my pulse started racing. I said the word aloud, the sound echoing off the tiles. Wow - I was completely hard, my hand was moving faster, gripping and relaxing, and all I needed was 'WATERPROOFS!!!' I yelled and climaxed instantly. I counted 25 contractions (I had started counting them the previous night) as I froze in place. I shot oceans of thick white juice onto a square foot of the cubicle door which I scooped off with my hand. It nearly filled my cupped fingers, just to give you an idea of how much fluid I ejected. I wiped my hand on some toilet tissue, cleaned up the door, replaced my clothes and stepped out feeling completely satisfied. I had learned my second important lesson of masturbation - it is important to have Fantasy.
From then on, it played a huge role in all my masturbation sessions, as you'll shortly see. At the age of fourteen-and-a-half, women had never interested me. And they would continue to be a non-issue for another two years. All my school chums drooled over pinup pictures, and no doubt jacked off to them, but I was happy spending all my energy on acquiring, wearing and using diapers and waterproofs to relieve my tensions. And these tensions were increasing again as I approached the next break of the day.
My arms were tired of carrying my satchel in front of me to hide the bulge in my pants as I ran into the restroom at a quarter to one. I threw it down, bolted to the sink to get some soap and ran into the stall not even bothering to close it behind me. My fingers fumbled at my belt, taking forever to undo it, and I found that having a handful of soap while trying to pull down the zipper was counter-productive. An eternity later I managed to get them down and was left standing in my bulging Jockeys that were so wet from pre-cum I could see the colour of my pubic hair through them. Without even pulling them off, I screamed the magic words at the walls "Diapers! WATERPROOFS!", brushed the front of the underpants once with the back of my non-soaped hand, and came. I hadn't needed the soap after all! I looked down past my heaving chest at my pumping pelvis and actually saw the sperm forcing its way through the white cotton of my briefs and falling to the floor in large, lazy blobs. It looked to me like slow motion, and as each one hit the tiled floor, it made a large wet 'splat' sound. I counted 22 contractions this time. [I started a diary to record my masturbatory activities, which is how I can be this accurate. I kept it up to date until the age of 20 when I just got tired of doing it, ran out of pages and stopped. Looking back now, I'm glad I wrote it down. It makes the telling of this story so much easier.] I tried to clean inside my briefs with some toilet tissue, but with limited success. I brushed against the head of my penis while doing this and found that it was still very sensitive, but this was to be nothing compared to the bus-ride home that afternoon. The semen I hadn't managed to remove had dried into a stiff crust by 14h30, welding my dick to my underpants. Any movement (or erection for that matter) was agony. The bus was full and I couldn't dig around in my pants without attracting unwelcome attention from the fifty or so girls and boys packed like sardines all around me. Besides, I probably would have screamed from the pain of disengaging myself from my shorts had I tried it, and so I employed Plan B and acted cool and nonchalant.
As soon as I was off the bus, and it had disappeared around the next corner, it was a different story. I limped up the drive, cursing my father for not building the house closer to the street, let myself into the house and made straight for the bathroom. I was in agony! My sisters shouted 'Hello!' from the TV room as I hobbled past, but I ignored them. One of them, Gillian, came after me and caught me at my bathroom door. "What's wrong?" she wanted to know.
"Nothing," I said attempting to stand up straight and wipe the sweat off my top lip while keeping the pressure of my underwear low by bending my waist forwards.
"I feel a little sick, is all. Maybe I haven't fully recovered from yesterday."
"I'll tell mom," she said helpfully, and made to walk away.
"No! I'm just going to have a shower. I'm sure I'll be alright," I said quickly.
"OK," she said and left.
I hauled myself into the bathroom, closed the door and dropped my school bag. I unzipped my trousers, which were slightly stuck to the Jockeys by a distinctly whitish stain and pulled them free, flinching at the pain. I began to pull the underpants down, but the sting from my penis stopped me before I got anywhere. I turned the shower on, took my socks and shirt off and had just stepped under the spray semi-clothed when my mother marched into the bathroom. Damn - I had forgotten to lock the door. I could feel my penis slowly unsticking itself from the cotton of my briefs as they became waterlogged, and the pain was subsiding rapidly. "Gillian tells me you aren't feeling so well," said my mother, silhouetted outside the shower curtain.
"No, really, I'm much better now," I squeaked somewhat desperately.
"You were running quite a temperature yesterday. Perhaps you weren't quite over it and shouldn't have gone back to school today."
"Mom, I'm OK," I said, wishing that she would just go.
Something in my tone of voice must have convinced her that all was not as it seemed, and she pulled the curtain open slightly to see me, only to find me shucking my wet underpants off under the streaming water.
"Why are you showering with clothes on?" she demanded.
Thinking quickly, "I was feeling a bit woozy when I got home. I thought a shower would fix me up. I was obviously a bit more out of it than I thought, and managed to get in here with my undies still on. I do feel much better though..." I said, my voice trailing away.
"Hmmmmm," she said, sounding unconvinced. "I want you in bed as soon as you get out of there. Give me your underpants, and I'll put them in the wash."
I passed them through the curtain to her, still dripping, and she took them together with my shirt and socks and closed the door behind her. 'God,' I thought 'that was close'. Nevertheless, I finished the shower and went to my bedroom, put my pyjamas on and got into bed. I had wanted to put my diaper on immediately, but reason prevailed - what if my mother wanted to perform some kind of physical exam? She would never go lower than my chest, or so I believed, but she might spot the bulky diaper under the covers, ask me about it and the game would be up. No : this was my secret, and no-one else was invited, I thought. My mother did come back bearing thermometers and all manner of gadgets. She took my temperature (which was unsurprisingly normal), felt my pulse and forehead and declared that I would stay in bed until the next morning. She actually tucked me in, bless her, and I was glad that I hadn't succumbed to temptation and put my diaper on earlier because she would have spotted it for sure. As her footsteps receded, I sprang up the shelves to my hiding place like a monkey and pulled out my last clean diaper and pair of plastic waterproofs together with the jar of cold cream. And then I heard her returning! I sprinted back into bed looking desperately for a place to hide my treasure. There was nowhere! My bed a was base-set and therefore had no space under it. My bedside table was just a table with no drawers. I pushed everything as close to the base of the bed as I could get it on the side furthest from the door and tried to look innocent.
"I just wanted to ask what you wanted for supper," said my mother, standing in the doorway.
"Nothing special - whatever's going," I replied.
"Goodness - look at your bedclothes," she exclaimed. "I tucked you in 2 minutes ago! Let me fix them for you", and took a step into the room.
"No no no!" I temporised. "They were quite tight and I kicked them loose. I prefer it this way. I am feeling a little hot. Leave them!"
"Well you should have said," she said and huffed.
"Mmm well, I didn't know until you had done it, but it *is* better this way" I offered.
"Well all right - don't come down to dinner then : I'll bring it to you on a tray."
"Thanks, mom," I said, grateful for more than just the room service.
I waited until I couldn't hear her shoes any more and heaved a sigh of relief. That had been close! And then I realised how exciting it had been. My diapers had nearly been discovered! It caused me a brief shiver of enjoyment, and I felt myself begin to stiffen under the bedclothes. [To this day, one of my fantasies is to be discovered wearing diapers, but it has never happened...] I took some cream and stroked myself and thought about what would happen if my schoolmates discovered me in plastic pants and a diaper. I got quite hard at the notion. I got out of bed and stood in front of the mirror, pinning the new diaper into place. A day ago, I would have been pushing my huge penis out of the way in irritation as I tried to close the pins in the right places, but now I rubbed it joyously with the towelling diaper, ignoring any pain that there might have been. In fact, the erection was so strong that it helped me keep the diaper in position on my body - I was essentially hanging the whole thing in place on my dick while both my hands were free to pull the edges of the diaper into position and pin them closed. Then, as had happened the previous evening, the moment I fell back into the open white pants on the bed, I could only manage to get two out of eight press studs closed before my back arched so much that I thought it would break. My breath escaped in a drawn-out hiss of total pleasure and my young buttocks lifted off the bed, humping the air uncontrollably as I grabbed the plastic that loosely covered my padded posterior, pulling it to and fro to enhance the sound. I could feel endless waves of fluid come jetting out of my penis, hammer into the waiting diaper and run downwards to pool under the base of my spine. I counted about 30 contractions [for some reason, I didn't record the figure in my diary for this particular masturbation session]. By the time one of the longest orgasms of my career stopped and my backside made contact with the bed again, the diaper had absorbed most of the cum and I was quite comfortable. With some difficulty I crawled under the covers and pulled the waterproofs straight. I did the remaining press-studs up one by one, and the warm, safe, secure feeling that had started me wearing diapers began stealing over me. I felt sleepy and content, and cast my mind back to the pleasurable feeling of my nearly having been 'bust'. I drifted away, the most contented teenager on the planet. Another fantasy added to my rapidly growing library. Looking back on it today, this 24 hour period was the most exciting of my entire life.
Dinner was uneventful. My mother didn't spot the bulge of my diaper under the bedclothes, probably because she was trying to keep everything balanced on the tray. By the time she set it down in my lap, it was out of her view. I dined in luxury, and putting the tray on the ground after finishing, reached for the jar of cold cream that I had managed to hide against the wall after the first scare. I had been semi-erect since awakening half-an-hour before and couldn't wait to feel the thrill of an orgasm again. I took three fingers-full of cream and transferred it to the palm of my right hand. I lay back against the pillows and gazed down at the white plastic pants enclosing the mound of my diaper. I took in all the details : the gathers and patterns the material made where it joined the waistband elastic, the waist elastic neither too tight nor too loose - if I sucked my stomach in, I could see my pubic hair and the base of my penis (which was pointing down into the diaper at that stage), and the different folds that opened and closed across the plastic as I my chest rose and fell. If I listened carefully, I could hear the pants crackling softly every time I filled my lungs with air. I nearly lost it right there, but concentrated on holding off. My penis was pushing a massive bulge in the diaper between my legs, but this time I thought it would be better if I tried masturbating with it pointing out as I had done at school that morning. Working cautiously, right on the edge of an orgasm, I pulled the diaper clear of my completely rigid ramrod and gently lowered the waterproofs onto the lower half of my eight inch shaft which was already throbbing and weeping a river of pre-cum. As the plastic touched, I nearly came, but discovered distraction as an aid to prolonging my pleasure when I thought I heard someone coming down the passage. It was a false alarm, but it got me to thinking : (a) That I could stop cumming by thinking of other things, and (b) What the hell was I going to do if someone walked in and caught me? I would deal with (b) later, I concluded, and give thanks for discovering (a) at that point. I slowly spread the thick white lubricant into the head of my penis, and curled my right fist around the shaft. With the pants blocking half the travel of my fist, I found something else new. I didn't need to stimulate my whole shaft as I had been doing up until then; rather, all the pleasure centred on the underside of the head of my penis - the part I had injured so badly the night before. Wow! It seemed that every time I masturbated I made a new discovery! Moving my half-closed fist up and down only a centimetre or so, provided that the curl of my fingers directly stimulated that spot exactly under the centre of the head gave the same, if not more, pleasure. I experimented slowly for another 5 minutes with great discipline and then moved my left hand to the elastic leggings of my waterproof pants. I slipped my index finger under it and pulled gently. I felt the pants move a tiny fraction down my leg, saw the material tighten and heard that delightful plasticky crackle, just managed to gasp the word "Waterproofs" at the ceiling and felt the express train come so fast that I was smacked in the face by a deluge of cum. I lay there with it dripping off my chin and nose for the longest time, watching my dick slowly contract into my diaper. As it got smaller, all the sperm that hadn't made it out in the 20 contractions I had counted oozed out, pooled in my belly-button and ran down my side onto the sheets. I remember thinking that this way of masturbating was really nice, but not really appropriate when lying in bed - there was just too much mess to clean up. [Later I would develop the technique of pulling my left hand away from the waterproof pants at the instant of climax to put my outstretched palm directly in the path of the ballistic semen, but I didn't think to try this for a couple of months].
After the cleanup operation (some I ate, the rest I wiped off with toilet tissue), I moved my dinner tray outside my door so that I wouldn't be disturbed and set my alarm clock for midnight. I had an appointment with the washing machine and tumble-dryer that I couldn't afford to miss - I was not going to attend school the next day without my kinky underwear on. I did remember to brush my teeth, standing at the basin in my bathroom (with the door locked) in nothing but a diaper and waterproofs. I remember looking critically at myself under the fluorescent lighting above the mirror as I flossed that night - tanned and lean (I was a pretty good swimmer and was on the school's first team), the whiteness of the waterproofs stood out proudly in stark contrast to the darker tan of my skin. I felt really good about myself, the world and what I had discovered. I got into bed and was asleep almost immediately.
As it happened, the alarm was not necessary. The need to get the stuff washed must have communicated with my internal clock, and I was instantly awake at 11h55. I looked down at my diaper before getting out of bed, and was surprised to feel no immediate sexual response. This did make a change from the last 24 hours! Rather, my body and mind was suffused with a feeling of total wellbeing, affirming that what I was wearing was perfectly right for me. Goosebumps came up on my back, arms and legs as if someone was gently stroking me. I rocked to and fro for a while in this delirium and then pulled myself together, gathered my dirty laundry and snuck into the scullery wearing a dressing gown over my secret underwear. As I passed a mirror in the hall, I saw that the disguise would fool no-one : the bulk of the diaper was clearly visible under the gown. This threat of another imminent discovery gave me a small sexual jolt and I felt a slight stiffening of my overused penis. I couldn't have this happen now, I thought to myself - I have an important mission to fulfill. And, amazingly, the erection subsided. I was learning some control. I closed the door, turned on the light and dumped two towelling diapers and two pairs of pants into the washing machine. Two, plus one being worn? "Not enough," I thought, and made a mental note to get some more as soon as possible. I would have to check how much pocket money I had left over - maybe I would have to forego lunches at school for the rest of the month and stop purchasing records for a while; a small price to pay. The adult products that I was buying were not cheap and my allowance would cover only one diaper and one pair of pants a month. I needed at least 5 sets of fetish underwear as a minimum, so that would mean two months of hardship unless I started doing a serious amount of odd jobs around the house for my parents. What would they think when I started offering to do everything around the house for cash? "They'd probably jump at the opportunity to exploit cheap labour," I concluded and concentrated on how to get the washer to start. I had never used this particular machine before, but it was one of those no-brainer models with the instructions written under the lid of the soap dispenser. I had no idea how long the cycle took to complete, and thought I would hang around until it finished. One hour later, it was still only in the second out of six iterations and I was starting to get worried. Supposing someone came into the kitchen for a glass of milk and saw light coming out from under the scullery door? I switched the light off and sat in the dark, listening to the machine swirling my precious clothing around. Then it started spinning and refilling in quick succession. I risked the light for a short burst and saw that the dial was at the finish mark. I glanced at my watch : an hour-and-a-half elapsed. I transferred the diapers and pants to the dryer spun the dial to high and killed the light. I reasoned that the hotter the air, the faster the stuff would dry, and, while this was a good assumption, I discovered the next morning what the effect of really hot air on the nylon pants was. Not good for the fabric, but very good for me!
I sat listening to the dryer humming, and fell to thinking about the logistics of full-time diaper wearing. I attended a boys only grammar school with plenty of extra-mural activities on my schedule. I was a swimmer, and practised under coached supervision three times a week after school. In fact, tomorrow was swimming practice. How would I get undressed in the locker room in front of my fellow-swimmers? I would have to think carefully about this, and as a first step decided to ask my mother for a note excusing me from the next practice based on my recent 'illness'. The opportunities for being discovered at school were many and varied, now that I came to think of it. What about PT class twice a week during school hours for instance? There I would have to change into shorts and T-shirt together with my class. Hmmm. I was just imagining ignoring all the other boys, slowly pulling my trousers down over my bulging white nylon underpants, drawing a pair of gym shorts over them, walking out onto the sports fields, when I was jerked back to the present by a bulge of another sort. My indefatigible penis was straining hard to break free from the bonds of its diaper at the mere thought of other people being able to see my padded state. So fast had I turned into a helpless slave of my own pleasure - I made a clumsy grab for the front of my waterproofs through the dressing gown, performed two or three quick stroking motions against the rough texture of the outside of the nylon pants with the flat of my hand and was overtaken by my third massive orgasm of the evening. I groaned as I felt the last of my semen pump into the towelling. I felt wrung out, my balls empty and spent. I didn't detect a lot of fluid this time and only 15 contractions. My dick softened right away and I would have fallen asleep right there had not the dryer gone 'bing' and stopped turning. I checked that my small load was quite dry, grabbed it and hurried back through the sleeping house to my bed.
My exhaustion, caused in the main by three major orgasms in less than 12 hours and aided by two-and-a-half hours' worth of watching laundry appliances in the dark, ensured that I neglected to reset my alarm for 6 am. My mother buzzed me and enquired as to my health as I surfaced wildly half-an-hour late. I told her that I was still a little shakey, but that I would be going to school, and oh yes would she please write a note to the swimming coach for that afternoon? Nothing simpler. I took a quick shower, dumping my used diaper into a plastic bag and concealing it in the usual place. After the shower, I took down a fresh one, and with a rapidly-beating heart unfolded the freshly washed waterproofs in their customary place on top of the bed. They felt a little harder than I remembered, and crackled loudly as I opened them. My heart gave a lurch and my penis began its familiar routine of standing up - what miracle had taken place here? I felt the texture of the material between thumb and forefinger; definitely much harder than before. I climbed the shelves and pulled last night's dirty waterproofs from the bag I had just stored them in and laid the two side-by-side. Confirmation! Something in the washing process had made the pants harder. However, I had no time to think about it right then : the school bus deadline was fast approaching and, unless I made an appearance very shortly, my mother might take it upon herself to come and check up.
It was vital that I put this diaper on straight and tight : I would have to wear it all day under my normal clothes, and if it bunched, it would give itself away. I stood in front of the mirror with my massive erection pointing skywards. I hung the front of the still to be fastened towelling on it (hey, I was getting pretty good at this), reached behind me with both hands to bring the two back sections around. Left side first : pull together tightly, hold with the left hand, retrieve safety pin from mouth with right. Insert pin through the layers of fluffy white, then out again and click closed. Repeat for other side, first taking care to push the straining rod inside. Move straining rod to point downwards between legs. Make sure waist tight. There : it was done. I turned from side to side in front of the mirror admiring my handiwork. Not too bad; a little room for improvement perhaps, but no time to fix it at that instant. It would have to do until a class break.
And then came the most important part of my familiar ritual - the treasured plastic pants. I looked at their hourglass shape and the way that the leg elastics pulled the material into a tightly-packed series of little mountains and vallies. My mouth was completely dry, heart going like a triphammer. "I don't have time to cum now," I remember thinking, and turned my mind towards trigonometry. But it was for naught. I sat down very very gently on the waiting plastic pants, but they CRACKLEd as I aligned my padded backside with them. I felt a singing tightening bursting screaming in my pelvis and with an involuntary explosion of breath I deposited another ocean of hot sperm into the crotch of my diaper as I rolled backwards onto the bed, the front half of the pants clutched in my nerveless hands, the rear half pinned under my out-of-control and blindly thrusting buttocks. I went with the flow then; gave myself fully over to the pleasure - I pulled the plastic left and right, up and down, tight and loose, heard that fabric talk to me in between each pulse of ecstasy. I could hear the slapping sound each spurt of cum made as it hit the thirsty towelling under pressure. God, it just got better and better each time I did it! The intercom chirped. Mother : are you going to make the bus? If not, I'll take you in the car. "No! I'll make it," I said, still trembling all over. My chest was like a red-hot furnace, radiating heat in all directions. I pulled the pants together, engaging the press-studs as fast as I could. I stood up on trembling legs that could barely carry my weight and aligned everything in front of the mirror. There! Perfect. My breathing was returning to normal, my penis was down (for the next 10 minutes at least), but I was still not dressed. White long-sleeved shirt : on and buttoned. Tie : on and knotted. Long trousers : pulled carefully over the diaper and zipped, shirt tucked in properly. Check mirror : obvious to me, but what the f@&%. Blazer : on, and noting that it partially covered trousers; good. Socks and shoes : on. I grabbed my school bag and ran. I heard the pants swishing beween my legs as I sped towards the front door, and they sounded really loud. "Nice," I remember thinking. My mother caught sight of me half way down the drive and yelled at me to stop. "You forgot your lunch-box!" and I ran to get it from her. Out in the open and away from reflective surfaces, the plastic sound of my pants was audible only to me, which was just as well. I snatched the Tupperware from her, and with a shouted farewell over my shoulder, careened off toward the bus stop. I just made it, and, sprawled on the seat at the back of the bus, I saw that my mother (bless her again) had fastened my letter of excuse for the swimming coach to the lunch-box by means of a rubber band. I started looking around. Many stops before school, and already the bus was three-quarters full. I slid over into a corner seat and surreptitiously checked my crotch area. Wow, it looked really big with the seat forcing the bulk of it forward and up, and I was sure that any minute someone would notice it. [But sadly, to this day sixteen years later, no-one ever has...]. Three stops before mine, about fifteen pupils from my school forced their way onto the bus, displacing a similar volume of girls who had been standing in the aisle towards the rear of the bus where I was attempting to remain inconspicuous. The girls attended our sister school which was located one bus stop beyond ours on this particular route. The back row of the bus was already full, but this didn't stop one of them asking me to shift up to make space for her. I recognised her as a first team swimmer from her school, and, as it turned out, so did she me.
She rattled on about her tough training schedule, and how well her team was going to do in the next major gala, an event we were also down for, while I nodded sagely and attempted to keep her eyes from looking down. As the bus hit bumps in the road, her sinewy elbow dug into the mound making up the front of my trousers, but she didn't seem to notice this and didn't offer any apology for what would have been quite painful had I not been wearing protection. The ambient noise inside the cabin was too high for the crackling of my plastic pants to be heard, and I offered up silent thanks for this. Finally, it was our stop. I stood up and squeezed past all the girls standing between the seats, and found that I had to mash my diaper quite hard against each one of them to do so. I thought I heard some comments and giggling, but I probably imagined it. As I alighted from the bus, what I was imagining was a variation on the 'discovery' theme I had so recently come across. What if all those girls discovered by accident that I was wearing my kinky underwear? My dick didn't respond to this, and not surprisingly - I had just experienced a huge orgasm three-quarters of an hour before, I had nearly missed the bus, had been half squashed and jabbed to death in it, and was now doing something I had never done before - but I filed the potentially fruitful idea away for later processing.
The first three lessons before tea were Latin and double Mathematics, as I remember all too well. We were working from the Cambridge Latin course, which is an illustrated primer. The lesson we did that day had associated with it a picture showing a Roman dressed in a toga, which is a kind of short tunic. I fell to daydreaming about what it would have been like to have worn a diaper under a toga, and how much easier everything would have been then. I had to change classrooms to get to Mathematics and the ensuing double period of ninety minutes truly dragged by as my sexual tension rose. I passed it by integrating my speculations about togas with bus rides and coming up with better odds of a chance discovery by a girl. A what?! A girl - quite a novel concept for me aged fourteen-and-a-half. Why would I prefer a girl to see my secret than one of my own school mates? I couldn't really answer that, but instinctively felt it would give me a bigger kick. This thought, pursued in fantasy for the next couple of years, was the beginning germ of my interest in girls. But for the next couple of months, my fetish would consume everything except during my very next session.
I stood up as the bell signalling break rang, my nerves as taught as piano wire. I held my satchel in front of me as cover and hightailed it for my restroom at the back of the school hall. And for the first time in my experience, I found it occupied by a spotty junior standing at the urinal. I hurried straight past him into the only stall, and locked the door. Every move I made caused my plastic pants to hiss and crackle, so I had to stand motionless in the cubicle with a trapped and throbbing erection until at last I heard him flush, wash his hands and leave. I sprang into action the instant the door banged behind him. I pulled at my belt, felt it come free with the single button popping open as I tugged at the waistband, the zip screaming down. And there they were : my glorious white waterproofs. They had some creases in them caused by the constraint of my school longs, but they were just as sexy as I remembered. I touched the front of the pants with the palm of my right hand and climaxed instantly deep inside the diaper. My knees buckled, and I fell backwards against the door, gasping with pleasure. I continued to rub the plastic back and forth with my hand while I reached inside to free my still-huge tool, but found that I had pinned it on too tightly. Lying almost on my back with my legs stretched out straight, I popped the safety pin on the right hand side and pulled forth my grossly engorged eight-inch shaft, still drenched in white semen. The erection showed no signs of diminishing, and I was still very turned on. I thought about my new fantasy : accidental discovery... Imagine if little Sheena from the swim team could see me now, I thought. Maybe I could teach her about pleasure... We could slip away from the gala and into the change rooms where she could borrow a diaper and pants from me and put them on... We could sit close and rub our pants together... Oh God, I could feel myself about to come. I grabbed the bulk between my legs and pushed it back and forth. The plastic sang in my ears. I screamed aloud "Aaaaaaaaah! diapers! Waterproofs!!!", saw the head of my penis grow huge and then the blur of white as another firehose of semen rushed out in twenty-five wild thrusts of my pelvis. At the apex of each slow-motion convulsion, my questing penis shot what looked like a teaspoonful of fluid at the ceiling. I followed the arc each load made in the air as gravity reclaimed it onto my chest, face and chin. Hyperventilating, I carried on masturbating, milking my penis dry while continuing to stroke my waterproofs. And [as unbelievable as this sounds even to me writing this today] I was getting hard again. I grabbed a handful of plastic and towelling in my left fist and forced it in circles. The sound was indescribable and the manhandling of the diaper was setting my neural pathways ablaze with joy. For the last time that day, my pelvis contracted into an orgasm so intense that I cried out in pain. There was hardly any fluid in this one - just a dribble as I slowly came back to earth.