Panting with Pleasure

www.xxtreamcam.com

As a lifelong nappy-wearer, I have decided to write and tell you
of the great pleasure I derive from wearing nappies and plastic
pants. This is a secret pleasure, which I have told a few people
about, and I should therefore be obliged if you could kindly keep
my address confidential. If I had the nerve, however, I would like
everybody to know about the super-sexy secret under my skirt.

Let me tell you my story - hopefully it will make everything
clear. When I was a child I never mastered bladder control, and
was quite badly enuretic. My enuresis wasn't a simple case of an
occasional bedwetting. I wet the bed every night, and I frequently
wet myself during the day. It was a source of great embarrassment
to my mother that long after all the other children my age on our
street had become toilet trained, I would still come in from
playing with soaking wet pants and jeans, and quite often I would
disgrace myself and my mother when we went out shopping or
visiting by wetting myself or filling my pants. I remember having
to be whisked off to toilets in the oddest places in order to be
changed into clean, dry clothes (which my mother carried wherever
we went), and my father fitted a plastic sheet to the back seat of
the family car to try to keep accidents off the fabric. Even then,
I knew it was bad of me, but I actually enjoyed wetting myself.

For a while my mother tried me without daytime nappies but, with
school fast approaching, my parents' frustration with my
incontinence grew, as I was showing no signs of becoming trained.
I found myself wearing nappies more and more often during the day
as a "just in case" measure. As I was still in a nappy every night
anyway, I wasn't too worried to have to wear a nappy as punishment
when we went on family outings, or visiting, or when we were going
on a long journey. I can still recall the acute shame and
embarrassment caused by other children's remarks when my nappy
showed through my clothes, especially on one occasion when my
mother made me wear a nappy under my new swimming costume while we
sat on the beach - I think the idea was to try and shame me for a
fairly major pants-wetting-and-filling earlier in the day.

However, I was really quite happy and secure wearing my nappy and
plastic pants, and so I always made full use of them. In time, I
think I retrained myself to become dependent on, and wholly
accustomed to, my nappy; by the time I was old enough to go to
school I was back to wearing a nappy all day and all night.

There were still sporadic attempts to train my bladder throughout
my childhood: buzzer devices were used, to no great effect; I was
given medicine which made no difference, and I saw many doctors
and psychologists who came up with no solutions to my "problem." I
just kept on wetting myself in a deliberate sort of way: because I
had become used to using a nappy all the time it seemed natural to
let go and pee wherever I was and whatever I happened to be doing.

And so I became the big baby of the family: I was the girl who wet
herself and had to wear a nappy to school (a situation which I
secretly enjoyed - I adored nappies!) I never made anything of it,
but my mother made sure that my teacher knew so that I could be
excused gym (in those days, it was customary to strip down to
underwear for gym). Even so, my use of a nappy quickly became
common knowledge at school. There were a lot of different
reactions: some kids were downright nasty about it, others were
indifferent, and one girl even confessed still to be wearing
nappies at night herself (we became friends because of our shared
"interest.") My mother put a clean nappy and plastic pants on me
every morning after my shower, and she would change me if I was
wet when I came home for lunch before I went back to school in the
afternoon. As I became older I became responsible for my own
changing and hygiene. I stopped wearing bulky terry nappies, which
had become too small for me, and started wearing slimmer, less
noticeable large size disposable nappies which allowed me more
freedom, and I even started to wear baggy jeans, which were much
more convenient than the skirts I had worn hitherto iny fat. I must have weighed
around 14 stones when I was 15 years old. I put this down to the
fact that I ways liked my food a lot, and my mother would
encourage me to finish whatever food was left on the dinner table
at night - some nights I had second helpings two or three times! I
think I was reluctant to take exercise for fear of leaks, and I
never got into an exercise habit when I was younger because of my
bulky nappy - even walking could be a bit of a waddle! I never
rode a bike or went swimming or anything like that.

However, with the added security of extra pads in my nappy, I took
to jogging and gradually lost weight. When I was about 17, my
family moved to a different area, and I left school and got a job.
With the added confidence of my new slimmer figure, I started
finding success with the boys when I went out to the local discos.
I was asked out loads of times by the boys, but I always refused
because I was terrified in case someone found out about my nappy.
Although I was still wearing a nappy all the time, I did so more
for convenience and pleasure than real need - I had developed a
habit, and it was expected and taken for granted by my family that
I wore a nappy. Even with its inconveniences I really enjoyed
wearing my nappy with its nice warm secure feeling, and I could
see no good reason to try and change my toilet habits. I continued
to wet myself, and I still wear a nappy all the time, with a
couple of clean ones in my handbag.

I met my first real boyfriend by accident, having refused many, as
previously mentioned. I had gone with my parents to visit his
parents, and we ended up playing with his computer in his bedroom
while our parents chatted. While sitting on his bed I happened to
notice that there was a waterproof sheet protecting the bed and,
later on in the evening when I went to change my nappy, I saw
large size plastic pants, virtually identical to the pants I was
wearing over my nappy, hanging up to dry on the clothes rack in
the bathroom. I went back to Martin's bedroom to continue playing
with the computer, and when he went downstairs to make us some tea
I had a quick look in his wardrobe where I found a box of
incontinence pads and a few more pairs of plastic pants. I said
nothing to Martin, because we were getting on very well, and I was
scared in case I ruined the situation. It was clear that Martin
fancied me, and eventually he asked me out. Having evaluated the
risks involved, I accepted, assuming that if he found out about my
nappy he wouldn't find it difficult to accept. Our first date was
at the cinema, and I think we had loads of popcorn and cola - too
much cola, I think! My nappy leaked on a huge scale - my jeans
were soaking, and the cinema seat was pretty wet as well.
Fortunately, I had a long coat, and my secret was kept until our
next date when I went round to see Martin at home. It was a
Saturday and his parents had gone out for the day. We played with
his computer again, and after a while we moved over to the bed
where we started kissing for the first time, tentatively at first
and then deeply and passionately.

I was in seventh heaven; I was having a wonderful time, and I
didn't care by this stage whether Martin discovered my nappy or
not. He very gently started to rub his hand up and down my inside
thigh, causing my skirt to ride up slightly. His hand was moving
inch by inch closer to my nappy, and then the inevitable happened.
He reached the soft plastic of my nappy; his hand was actually
touching it, and my secret was revealed. Instead of stopping, he
continued, and proceeded to massage my swollen fanny, through the
padding and plastic of my nappy (something I had grown very fond
of doing myself). Before long I was in ecstasy, as though
everything else had ceased to exist, and the next thing I knew was
the tremendous feeling of an orgasmic pent-up gush of pee into my
nappy.

As I became aware of Martin again, I realised he had undone his
trousers, and was now rubbing himself furiously - and had revealed
his plastic pants to me. The situation was ludicrously ideal and
unlikely - two young adults together, wearstarted apologising profusely to me. I
quickly brushed off his apologies, and hugged him so that he could
be in no doubt that he had done the right thing.

Since that day we have had many lovemaking sessions, but neither
of us has yet ventured to remove our nappy - we must have the
safest sex possible! (More than just one thin layer of rubber for
us!) I'm still not sure just how sexually Martin regards his nappy
and plastic pants. Perhaps one day we will get married - who
knows? Can you buy waterproof sheets for double beds? I hope you
like reading about my experiences so far, and I hope that more
like-minded nappy wearers will be encourage to write in about
their experiences.

J.M. Ayrshire, Forum. Vol 27 No 5 (1994)