Masturbatory Pleasure

Summary: This is an absolutely true account of my first orgasm (which 
was unintentional), followed by a voyage of self-discovery and 
ultimately an unmasking by the most special woman on the planet. It's 
quite graphic.

I have never shared the details of my fetish with anyone in intimate 
detail, but as I get older I find that I have a need to talk to someone 
who might understand it, and hopefully grow from the experience. This 
was the only reason for my post on the website. I swear that every word 
of this is the truth.

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 irresistibly 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 toweling! 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 
toweling; 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 toweling 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 toweling. 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 toweling 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 toweling 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).

Chapter 2

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 
toweling. 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 toweling 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 toweling 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 toweling 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 toweling. 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 toweling 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 toweling 
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 toweling 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.

Chapter 3 : Many Years Later

I am lying on my back in bed. The lights are dimmed very low. My penis 
is burstingly erect and aiming it's 8 inch bore directly at my face. 
I'm trying like anything to control my imminent orgasm - it's head is 
massively turgid and a river of pre-cum is dripping off it into my 
belly-button - but I know that I cannot last much longer. Just forty 
seconds have passed since I lay down and carefully eased my rod out of 
its enclosing terry-cloth diaper swathed in its beautiful snow-white 
100 micron tricot-coated PVC. The furtive rustling noise of the plastic 
was almost enough to cause an immediate spasm - a contraction that I 
had been aching for for more than an hour - but I bit down on my lower 
lip and commanded myself to be calm.

For too long I have cum on a hair-trigger : convenient and oh so 
satisfying for me, but disappointing for my partner. She has accepted 
the way things work between us sexually (I have never had intercourse 
with her in the traditional sense because I am incapable of lasting 
more than ten seconds after she touches my waterproofs), but she is 
kept more than satisfied by my hands, lips and tongue. All I ask in 
return is a quick stroke on my waterproof pants once or twice a day, 
which she does enthusiastically in the most gloriously odd places and 
to my utmost enjoyment : in the car whilst she is driving and I am the 
passenger, in the movies every fifteen minutes, and even once while we 
were standing in a line at the airport. I have joined the mile high 
club at least a dozen times with no mess and no fuss; just the soft 
caress of a female hand inside the front of my trousers so that she and 
I are able to hear the plastic crackle. The squirt of cum into the deep 
toweling of the diaper is audible only to my sensitive ears (and on the 
plane with difficulty), and there is no sticky mess to clean up 
afterwards. Of course, she has tried to do much more than this for me, 
but has found it impossible. Take my diapers off and I take forever to 
get an erection and then lose it in an instant. Put the diapers on and 
premature ejaculation does not even begin to describe the problem.

And so, a week ago, she took me to a counsellor, which I was loath to 
do, but did eventually acquiesce because of my deep and abiding 
affection for her. It was a nerve-wracking experience, and the female 
therapist took more than a passing interest in my fetish saying that 
she had never heard of a fixation of that strength, asking to see the 
diapers that I was wearing so that she could get a handle on the 
concept. Naturally, I felt this inappropriate and refused, but allowed 
that I might loosen up after further sessions, maybe. After our hour 
was up, we were given exercises to do in order to improve the 
possibility of our having natural sex together, one of which was for me 
to practise holding off while masturbating. And yes, the issue of 
masturbatory frequency came up, and, as my lady knows how sexual the 
diapers are to me, I didn't mind telling the therapist that I have to 
relieve myself at least 4 times a day (trending towards 6 times most 
days).

Afterwards, my girlfriend pulled me into the restrooms at the 
therapist's consulting rooms and stroked me to orgasm through my 
trousers (grabbing the material firmly and rubbing it up and down 
against my waterproofs) while whispering in my ear that she had no idea 
that I had to cum that often. She promised to attend to the 'problem' 
with much higher frequencies of treatment, and then pulled my dick out 
of the diaper and looked at it wistfully. "Such a waste of 8 inches," 
she said to me for the umpteenth time, "I would really like it inside 
me so that I can give you a kind of pleasure that you've never had 
before." I promised to do the exercises religiously.

And so here I am spread-eagled on my bed, desperately trying to hold 
on. I see my penis jerking up and down to the triphammer beating of my 
heart. Small electric tensions contract my buttocks that are deeply 
enfolded in white toweling. My breath comes in ragged gasps. I see fine 
beads of pre-cum force themselves out of the tip of my circumcised 
penis and run in waves over the glans. I am holding the shaft with two 
fingers, and decide to let go, but all this effort is for naught.

The slight movement of the rod poking out of the waterproof pants is 
enough to make the *tiniest* rustle, and there is no turning back. I 
feel a gallon of sperm loading itself and the first contraction comes 
faster than an express train. I scream aloud the magic words, and hear 
the first ejaculation slap onto the headboard. There are another 
fifteen involunatary spasms of pure ecstasy, and I am left to clean up 
a white trail of jism that leads from my belly-button all the way over 
my chest and shoulders to the wall behind me.

In the afterglow, I reflect. I held on for fifteen seconds longer than 
my previous record. I make a note of this in my diary so that I can 
tell my girlfriend. I force my semi-erect (and still exquisitely 
sensitive) member back into its home, and drift off into a doze. I 
reflect on the manner in which I met this wonderful woman who accepts 
me for who I am and what I do. I dream happily about the way she first 
touched my waterproof pants, which caused me (literally) to faint with 
pleasure. I surface long enough to remember that very first touch 
again, and recreate it by cautiously feeling my waterproofs under the 
covers, pretending that it is her hand doing the exploration. I see her 
expression : eyes widening in recognition of the texture of the 
material, then a slightly harder probing as she assesses the bulk of 
the diaper beneath that layer. Then a cautious smile, and a renewed 
gentle tug at the leg elastic. My hips pump spastically, and I 
discharge another load into the toweling. There is a muted squelch at 
each contraction as the sperm forces its way into the thirsty layers, 
and I fall back exhausted. I'll start writing tomorrow, and try to 
deliver an installment a day as my treatment progresses, I promise 
myself. I sleep the sleep of the dead...

...I met her as a patient. I had strained my right shoulder moving a 
heavy speaker system, and was having problems lifting my arm above 
shoulder level. It affected my masturbation sessions as well (but I 
didn't tell her that at the time). She was (and still is) a 
physiotherapist - that special kind of masochistic torturer that I 
wouldn't like to visit ordinarily - but I was eventually forced to when 
two weeks after the initial incident my shoulder was not healing at 
all. I spent the first ten minutes sitting in her waiting room filling 
out multiple forms. I had considered going to the appointment 
'straight' (I regard 'straight' as the state of not wearing diapers, 
and 'kinky' as its opposite. Needless to say, I am 100% kinky!), but 
then rejected the idea out of hand because the appointment was in the 
late afternoon, and I wasn't prepared to spend the entire day out of 
them. I reckon that my addiction is as bad as hard drugs (not that I've 
ever taken any, you understand) because I am unable to give my 
waterproofs up for more than one hour before feeling really unwell and 
shakey. So : there I was, ready to be seen by the physio. I had 
assessed the risks involved, and had concluded that it was my shoulder 
that was out of whack - the physician wouldn't be bothering with 
anything else. Maybe that would have been the case if I hadn't been 
booked with Louisa.

As I walked in, I felt a sudden tingle of apprehension. She was small, 
slight, dark brown hair hanging halfway down her back. "Very pretty," I 
thought as I first saw her, and then immediately "She doesn't look 
strong enough to be a Physio...", and directly after that "If I were in 
a position to have a girlfriend, this one would be a serious 
candidate...". Prophetic thoughts.

There was a changing booth in the corner of her consulting rooms. "Hi!" 
she said, indicating the booth. "Just go behind there and slip out of 
your clothes, and put on the pair of shorts you'll find hanging on the 
peg. There are a bunch of them - just choose the right size."
"But," I said, "I'm only here for my shoulder. Surely that doesn't 
require a complete disrobe?"
"No," she said, "Clinically, I like to get a good look at the entire 
area. Your shoulder is connected to your back, and I must check that as 
well."
"Well then, just the shirt then?" I suggested hesitantly.
"If it's all the same, I really would prefer to examine you in just the 
shorts. Come on - it's not that bad and won't take you a second."

I went behind the screen. I was terrified yet exhilarated. Never before 
had I willingly participated in a scenario so dangerous to my fetish. I 
took my shirt off, then my trousers. The material whispered over the 
plastic fabric of my waterproofs, and I coughed nervously to mask the 
sound. I found the largest pair of shorts hanging on the peg, and 
pulled them on. Again there was that distinctive crackling sound that I 
ineptly attempted to cover. I pushed the monster bulge that was being 
caused by my tumescent shaft downwards, and ventured out into the room. 
She was seated at her desk with her back to me, reading my file. "A 
computer engineer," she said by way of a question. "I see you have a 
Masters degree in Computer Science. My brother is a programmer at IBM."

"Oh really?" I said, feigning interest. My real interest at that point 
lay in getting myself out of this mess before being discovered, but I 
was also finding out just how thrilling living on the edge actually 
was. I couldn't think of anything further to add, and so stood there 
smiling lopsidedly.

"OK," she said, "Let's have a look at this shoulder. Sit on the stool. 
You said it was the right?"
"Yes indeed," I replied, sitting down. I heard the plastic crackle as I 
did so, and waited for her to say something. She didn't.
"I'm sure she can see that my butt is bigger than normal," I panicked 
to myself, resigned to being seriously embarrassed and waited for the 
axe to fall. She got up from her desk and walked up behind me. I 
flinched as she started probing the shoulder, more out of adrenalin 
than anything else.

"What're you so nervous about?" she asked. "Don't believe anything 
people have told you about Physiotherapists!"
"No no - it's not that. I'm just a bit ticklish," I said. I turned and 
looked at her. She was wearing a rogueish smile. Later I was to find 
out that she found my body attractive and enjoyed that initial deep 
probing of my shoulder muscle. (Did I mention that I am a competitive 
swimmer? Well if not, you know now. Swimming really tones upper body, 
and I was in peak condition before putting my shoulder out).

As I turned to face forwards, I looked down and noticed in horror that 
the waistband of the shorts I had chosen was gaping open and that my 
waterproof pants were in full view of anyone standing in any one of 
about a million correct positions. My decision to have gone for the 
largest size available had clearly not been the most intelligent one I 
had taken in my life. I concentrated on my lower spine and was sure 
that I could feel them snugly pulled against my skin, which meant that 
she could see nothing, at least for now. She felt me tense up and 
issued another reassurance. I moved my left hand surreptitiously to the 
waistband and gathered it up, closing the aperture. "I see that the 
tendons are very swollen at the back of your shoulder," she said. "How 
heavy was the object you lifted?" "About 60 kilograms," I answered. She 
tsked and moved around so that she was facing me.

I was relieved that I had grabbed the elastic when I had. She probed a 
bit more, leaning into the shoulder, her small breasts right at my eye 
level. I was really starting to enjoy the view. And then, the axe. 
"OK," she said. "Now go and lie face down on that couch over there. If 
you picked up that weight and sprained your shoulder, you might have 
done damage to your lower back. I need to see if your spine is 
misaligned."
"But but but...my back is fine. It's my shoulder that's the problem," I 
sputtered.

"Like I said before," she said, "your shoulder is interconnected with 
other systems. If you picked up the weight off-centre, there's no 
knowing what collateral damage might have been incurred." I was 
cornered. I went to the couch, the sound of my waterproofs magnified 
hugely to my ears. I gingerly positioned myself. My diapered butt was 
extremely obvious to me and I resigned myself to my fate. Boy! This was 
intense. I was really excited, just on the edge of an orgasm, but half 
scared out of my wits.

She sat on a wheeled chair and rolled herself up to the couch. Starting 
at the point just below my shoulders she traced the contours of my 
spine downwards. My head was rolled to the right, and I could see her 
stockinged knees receding as she worked her way downwards. I had to say 
something before she got to my lower lumbar region and came across my 
secret. My erection was now so hard that it was difficult to think of 
anything else. I started breathing faster which she noticed. "Anything 
wrong? Any pain?" and all the time moving towards my hidden underwear. 
"Listen," I croaked. "Before you go any further, there's something I 
must tell you." "Oh yes?" and stopped. "I'm wearing, ah, I'm wearing, 
something that you wouldn't, ah, expect me to be wearing, ah, down 
there..." and tailed off into a deeply embarrassed silence. My face was 
red hot, and I thought at any moment it might set fire to the couch. 
Not probing my spine any more, she moved her hand under the waistband 
of the shorts, simultaneously wheeling her chair back towards my head 
so that she could ask another question. I felt her hand stop, retrace 
its path again, and then her thumb and forefinger testing the texture 
of my waterproofs. I heard that subtle whisper of nylon tricot and bit 
my lip. Her eyes widened in recognition, and she pressed harder to feel 
the bulk of the diaper covering my butt. Then she did something that I 
would never have expected. She smiled a smile so gentle and pure, stood 
up, moved her hand lower under the shorts and traced the leg elastics 
with her fingers. There was no option for me : I came instantly and so 
hard that I'm sure I nearly ruptured my penis. I screamed out in 
pleasure, humping the couch uncontrollably. I called out my mantra : 
"Diapers! Waterproofs!" between gasps, and then (I kid you not) I 
fainted from sheer pleasure. Not ever, before or since has any orgasm 
been so intense.

When I came to I found that I had fallen off the couch and was being 
attended by the good doctor (who was looking rather worried). In 
falling, the loose waist elastic of the oversized shorts had caught on 
the couch, causing them to have come three-quarters off. My snow white 
waterproofs were exposed for the very first time to another's eyes. In 
falling, I had twisted and was now lying mostly on my back on the 
floor. My erection was still raging and could clearly be discerned even 
through the padding of the diaper. I groaned and sat up. As I my wits 
came flooding back, I became mortally ashamed of my behaviour. I 
apologised for everything, even for being born.

Her response was to hug me and tell me that everything was just fine. I 
had done nothing wrong, and that I was going to be all right. At the 
time I thought this to be doctor-talk for calming hysterics. I crawled 
to my feet and made a lunge for the changing booth, hoping to get 
dressed and bolt. The shorts fell around my ankles and half tripped me. 
Immediately she was behind me, helping me up. "Listen," she said. "I'm 
not offended. Really. What I am is intrigued. Please don't run away. 
Let's talk this thing out. And additionally, I haven't finished 
checking your shoulder yet. Take the shorts off, and come back to the 
couch. I've seen your diaper now, and there's no reason to hide it any 
more. Come on." She stroked my arm, and led me back. My waterproofs, 
freed from their prison, sang their special song as I walked back. 
Slowly I began to feel better about everything, but was still extremely 
embarrassed. "Lie down now," she said gently, and as I did so, she 
stroked the back of my waterproofs. I felt my semi-erect penis pump 
itself up again, and for the rest of the consultation, she maintained a 
gently rhythmic stroking of the plastic. It was the most calming thing 
in the world. I felt warm and secure, appreciated, loved even, and this 
by a woman whom I had met only fifteen minutes earlier. I knew I had to 
see her again.

She had had the same intentions, but not once did she behave improperly 
in her surgery. After I had eventually got dressed again, had received 
physiotherapeutic instructions for my shoulder and was about to leave, 
I plucked up my courage and asked her out.

"Boy! That's a relief," she smiled, "I thought you'd never get around 
to asking. You're fired as my patient and hired as romantic interest. 
Let's make it tonight. Pick me up in an hour. If you hadn't asked, I 
might have come after you at close of surgery..." and with that I left 
in a daze, my diaper sticky with a gallon of my drying cum.

Home was too far away to make in an hour and come back. I was in 
turmoil. A woman! And she knew about my underwear! I could hardly walk 
with the size of my dick. I moved into the restroom I found at the end 
of the hall, and bolted myself into the second stall. I thought about 
her breasts as I unzipped my trousers. They were small, just over an A-
cup, and perfectly formed. I saw the outline of her nipple against the 
silk of her blouse as she stood in front of me and smelled her perfume. 
I looked down and saw the white plastic bulging from my opened flies. I 
undid the waistband and slowly eased the trousers down around my 
ankles. Looking over my shoulder at the mirror fixed to the back of the 
stall door I caught sight of my diapered butt and became even more 
aroused. I thought about her breasts again, reached into the diaper and 
eased my purple penis out. God, it was absolutely huge! I turned to 
face the mirror. I curled my fist around the shaft and began the 
motion. Up down up down up down, being careful not to touch the head. 
To have touched it would have meant instant orgasm. I thought about 
Louisa naked, her lithe body with perfectly proportioned breasts 
standing next to me watching, then touching. Then me touching her, and 
I couldn't take any more. I moved my left hand to the plastic, called 
out her name for the first time, and spewed a gallon of semen onto the 
mirror. I always gasp and moan at the instant of orgasm, and really 
work the plastic of my pants, and it was at this point that I heard a 
cough from the urinal and the unmistakable sound of someone taking a 
piss. How long had he been there?

Chapter 4 : Three years after that...

I am still with Louisa, and have managed to cum inside her twice in 
three years. We are so deeply in love with each other that this doesn't 
matter. I masturbate her to orgasm at least once a day, and she does me 
whenever I need it, which is much more than she does.

As the alarm goes off in the morning, she automatically grabs my pants 
and moves the fabric up and down, around and around until the 
inevitable happens ten seconds in : a huge cascade of semen into my 
diaper. There is no better way to wake up, trust me! If I am relatively 
awake, I might manage to cup one of her beautiful small breasts in my 
hand and feel the nipple before shooting my load. This heightens the 
sensation for me. What she also does for me is to tell me how excited 
she is by the fact that I am a captive of my diapers and waterproofs. 
She uses the words in just the right way, and at the right time, 
manoeuvring herself so that she is masturbating me with her right hand, 
with her left running behind my shoulder and softly stroking my 
diapered butt. Then it's a long kiss and cuddle session, and, if she 
needs it, a quickie orgasm for her, courtesy of either a vibrator, my 
fingers, mouth or all three.

I go and shower, put the diaper and pants in the wash basket and come 
out completely naked. She loves this ritual more than any other. I am 
still a committed swimmer and train every day, so my muscle definition 
is good. While I have been busy in the shower, she has pulled the 
covers on my side of the bed straight and on top she has laid a fresh 
pair of snap-on white waterproof pants (press-studs undone on both 
sides) over which is placed a white fluffy toweling diaper. My diapers 
have been specially made by a seamstress to have an elasticated waist 
and poppers to hold them closed, so both items are wide open and 
waiting for me, one placed over the other. I feel my heart quicken.
"C'mere you," Louisa invariably says. "Let's get your diapers on."

I always stand next to the bed, embracing her in her white satin 
nightie and running my hands over her perfect curves, while telling her 
that I am the luckiest guy in the world. If I look down over her 
shoulder I can see her perfect ass - often I hike the nightie up and 
squeeze and stroke it, but more importantly if I look straight over her 
shoulder towards my bed, I can see the waiting underwear. This never 
fails to give me an instant hard-on, which is when Louisa takes 
advantage. She runs her hand up and down my turgid 8 inches and quite 
often has managed to insert it into her vagina at this point. She 
claims to have had many orgasms this way. But more often, she pushes me 
gently down on the diaper, first with me sitting in the correct 
position, then lying backwards stretched out on my back, a pillow 
prepositioned by her allowing my head to be supported so that I can 
watch what she is about to do.

Slowly and sensuously, using my gallons of pre-cum as lubricant, she 
gently pumps my shaft with her right hand, while with her left she 
tantalisingly fastens stud after stud of my terry diaper, first the 
left side, then the right. I am struggling to hold back another orgasm. 
The position is now that I am wearing a diaper, but that the waterproof 
pants are still folded wide open underneath my padded butt. My penis is 
pointing straight up towards my face, held under the loose waistband of 
my diaper.

Now she shifts her position, sliding back towards my head so that she 
can cradle me more easily. Hardly moving her right hand now - she knows 
I am right on the brink, and she wants it to last longer for me - she 
takes the front half of the left side of the waterproof pants and 
slowly pulls it towards the side where the female poppers are waiting. 
I am watching all of this, fascinated. Click. One done up. Still 
working with one hand, she finishes all six on the left hand side one 
at a time. Now she knows that all I want to do is to cum. The head of 
my dick is a huge swollen purple, and I am already starting to stroke 
her breast with my one hand and her butt with my other. She pulls the 
right hand side of the waterproofs closed - and now that she does this, 
she purposely moves the fabric to make the most hissing and plasticky 
crackling that she can - and snaps the first press-stud closed, 
simultaneously moving her right hand masturbatory stroke slightly 
upwards so that my glans is stimulated. I scream out that I am cumming, 
and with her left hand she pulls the diaper up so that it can catch the 
load. I bury my face in her chest and spew what always seems to be 
gallons of semen into my diaper while she tells me that she loves me.

After I have calmed down, she does up the other studs on the left hand 
side, and with a final whisper-soft stroke of her hand on the 
waterproof material, pushes me out of bed to get dressed for work.