Pull-up vs Diaper

It still amazes me where a little nudge of boldness in a bar can lead. I sat beside a hunky total stranger. Saying nothing. Doing Nothing. Nothing special. I just listened to the music till the tracks switched up.

The Beach Boys' Surfin' U.S.A. popped on, encouraging me to jiggle to the beat. My lips synced to the lyrics when I glanced over at the hunk. He mouthed the words of the song too. Catching each other in the act, we turned away, our faces deep red.

I thought of moving over one seat when I heard him starting to sing along. Looking away from me, he pretended not to care though the red emitting from his cheeks spoke otherwise. I swigged my beer, and joined him, turning his solo into a duet.

We got louder. Faced each other. Met the other's eyes. Looked like idiots. And laughed together by the end of the song.

A cascade of follow up drinks loosened our mouth holes. We swapped tales from each about our respective wild backpacking excursions or road trip misadventures. Leading one of us to ask, though neither of us remembers who, whether a pull-up or a diaper makes the drive easier.

I insisted pull-ups worked better since you could slip them on and off easier when you wet them. He argued diapers held more and felt better. I countered pull-ups felt comfier.

Our soberer thinking catching up with the embarrassing topic shelved our discussion behind an awkward silence. We turned away, sipping our fifth (or was it sixth?) beers. We took intermittent glances at each other, reflecting on the hints the other had laid down.

We at first sniffed. Then nibbled. And at last swallowed the underlying message we had given each other.

Leaning in close, we at the same time asked, "Are you wearing?"

"Pull-ups," I said.

"Diapers," he said.

We glanced down at each other's nether regions. He nodded. Then I nodded. We smiled. And then we laughed out loud.

Once our fits ended, we turned to non-diaper related topics.

I continued thinking about them the whole time, of course. I suspected he did the same. We kept spying for bulges and white rims sticking out of our pants.

We ended up sloshed, staggering out of the bar together. Since I lived a short walk away while he would have to order a ride, I offered to let him crash at my place. I, sure enough, hoped to see his diaper.

He hesitated to answer though, worrying me I acted too forward.

He managed to mumble, "Yes," plus a nod.

Wabbling up the street, sleep at last caught up with me. I exaggerated a stumble to see how he would react.

"Want me to carry you?" He spoke.

That almost perked me out of my inebriation. "Sure," I replied.

Even tired and drunk, he seemed to lift me onto his back with ease. Wherever our bodies touched, I paid special attention to his firm, flexible muscles. At the same time, I directed him to my apartment.

After fumbling with my keys, we slogged inside.

I went from his back to his arms as he carried me to my bed like a princess.

Setting me down, he turned around to leave, so I lunged and grabbed his hand.

"You can stay," I said.

"Thanks," he said, but then shook out of my grasp.

He closed my bedroom door and left.

Despite how tiring our tirades of the night left me, I struggled to fall asleep. I speculated whether I did anything wrong, or he just was not interested in me that way. Somewhere between my thoughts, I lost consciousness.

The morning sunlight shined in my eyes, telling me to wake up. Before getting out of bed, I wet my pull-up. I liked starting my day that way.

Heading for my kitchen, I saw he had crashed on my couch. Still passed out, and having taken off his pants, he exposed his diaper.

While I stepped closer, he started talking in his sleep. I blushed when he called my name. Looking at his diaper, his bulge in front grew. Thinking about me made him hard. The butterflies in my nether awoke at that.

He moaned.

"I want...I want...I want..." he said in his sleep, luring me closer.

"...I want...to feel your breast."

"Please. Please, please." He begged. "I'm sorry. I can't help staring at them."

He really wanted me, which made it so bizarre that he had refused to sleep in my bed. We could've at least snuggled.

His moaning intensified. He gripped tight onto the red pillow under his right hand. The bulge in his diaper shook. His other hand clutched it. He looked desperate holding it. His enthralling yells rose and rose and then...he went quiet.

Without needing a second guess, I knew he had cum in his diaper. After just meeting me, and from just dreaming about touching my boobs, he had cum so hard. That pretty much proved that he was still a virgin.

Gazing at him going through his stimulating ordeal released the urges beneath my pull-up too.

Returning to my room, I locked the door and lay on my bed. I put my hand down my pull-up and stroked. I replayed him calling out my name and remixed it with the warm firmness of his muscles carrying me home. Finishing on him gripping my red pillow as he came for me in his diaper, I blew up my insides to my best climax in a long time.

Even after resting from that incredible compulsion, I so wanted to take his virginity.

He woke up when I returned to my living room. Before he noticed me, I spied him checking and adjusting his diaper. He just learned that he had creamed his diaper dreaming about me.

I squeezed in my giggle thinking about his reaction.

"Good morning," I said to him still in mid diaper inspection.

"G-good...morning," he replied, searching for his pants.

He stopped though seeing me strut about in my wet pull-up.

We ate breakfast together with our padded butts on display.

"You should come over for dinner sometime," I said to him between bites.

First, he just nodded because his mouth was full of waffles.

"I'd like that," he said.

He looked straight at or away from me several times while we talked. His strong gaze told me he resisted his need to look at my chest.

I giggled, noticing where his eyes went despite his efforts.

"What is it," he asked about my little laughs.

"Nothing," I replied. "Maybe I'll tell you later."

At my door he asked, "Do you want pizza the next time I come over?"

"Sounds good." I liked the simple choice.

"I'll handle it," he told me.

Right as he opened my door to leave, I leaned up and whispered, "Wear your diaper again when you cum."

Almost closing my door on his foot, he mumbled some incoherent words. He ended with, "Sure," and went on his way.

I second guessed my choice to say that to him. The longer I waited to hear back from him the greater my agony stretched.

When he at last texted me a date, I relieved the mounting tension by collapsing onto the same couch where he had slept.

The day of his return, I wore my pretty pink princess pull-up and my cute frilly matching bra. By covering my bosom with a white, thin fabric blouse that he would be able to see through, I ensured an inevitable dead end to his virginity.

Of course, what had happened in his diaper when he slept over, I expected he would succumb to again, but I needed him to give in that way first before I could take his diaper. Once he lost his diaper, he would lose his virginity.

When he arrived, he carried a big box with kitchen utensils, pizza sauce, a block of cheddar cheese, and lots and lots of flour. When he said he would 'take care of the pizza,' he meant he would make it from scratch.

Giving him permission to peruse my kitchen, I soaked in the splendor of him setting up his home pizzeria. My eyes hungered watching him measure the flour, adding the water, stirring, kneading the dough, and tossing it as a soft flat circle into the air, and onto his precise, elegant, strong hands.

Ogling him, I almost cut my finger shredding the block of cheese.

After distributing the sauce and scattering the pieces of dairy product I had cut on top of the pizza pie, he placed it in the oven. Then we waited.

Taking off my apron, I shook about my chest, teasing him. "What should we do in the meantime?"

His lips moved, but nothing came out. His eyes though darted down from my face. Without any more distractions, nothing prevented him from staring at my breasts.

I giggled at him.

"Do you want to see?" I asked, not specifying what.

"Well...I mean...what?" His hand drifted to the front of his pants.

"My pull-up," I told him. I enjoyed where I sent his urges.

He mumbled. "Sure."

It tickled me inside knowing how obvious it appeared that behind his weakening resistance, my boobies captivated his virgin needs. By my guess, he could not hold out much longer.

Seating him on my couch where just dreaming of me had instigated his first accident, I stood in front of him.

I played with the hem of my spandex pants. The tight fabric already outlined my cute pull-up. His mouth hung open. I glided down my tight pants, inch by inch. His nervous hand soothed the aching bulge behind his padding.

"I want to see your diaper too," I said, stopping halfway.

"Mhmm," he spoke closing his mouth. His words still faltered at my teasing.

So far, my gambit had worked. I got him out of his pants before I fully took off mine. I could do this. I could make this work.

Once he had fully exposed his diaper for me, I took my pants down to my ankles and kicked them off. I twirled around to spin up my blouse, showing off my pretty, pink princess pull-up.

"Ah!" His hand darted back to his diaper.

The excruciating pressure of his needs clenched every muscle in his body.

Taking it as my cue, I pulled his hand away, and sat on his lap.

He careened his face up towards the ceiling and squeezed his legs together desperate to hold it in against his overpowering natural urges.

"Oh! Ah! Mmmm!" He muttered for relief.

"Please," he whispered.

I had already driven him to the edge. Next, I would find out what would push him over.

Taking his hand, I brought it up to almost touch my breast. Catching on to where I had guided it, he leaned his face back towards me. When he did, my sumptuous bosom dominated his gaze.

Despite the fact I kept them covered with my blouse and bra, I sent quakes into his diaper that even I felt against me after my chaste, innocent teasing. His face, his arms, and his legs contorted in a last-ditch attempt to barricade his flow.

My free hand snuck towards the top button of my blouse. I undid it.

His breathing went erratic. His stare solid and unmovable from my breasts.

Going for the next button that would expose my pink lace bra, I asked, "Which do you want first: to touch my boobies, or to see them?"

His body responded for him. The hardness in his diaper burst.

"Aaaahhhh!" He wailed an agonizing bliss.

Through my pull-up, the tremors of his quaking orgasm tickled my insides. I so hungered to rip off his diaper and devour his virginity right there.

Of course, in his current state, that could not happen yet. My flirting proved the depths of the desperation from which he longed for me to the point that even his best efforts fell short to prevent me from making him cum in his diaper.

"I'm sorry." He showed no hesitation admitting he had creamed his diaper. "It's...well...to be honest, you're the first girl I've really been...this close to."

"It's no biggy," I said. "Everyone messes up their first time."

"Not everyone cums in their diaper," he said.

I giggled and pecked his cheek. I then rolled off his lap to sit next to him.

Eyeing my hand, he reached out to me. I reciprocated, lacing our fingers together.

I glanced down. "How's your diaper feel?"

"Fine," he replied with a squeak in his voice, but cooler added, "Good, actually. Really good."

Hearing that instigated my giddiness. It took all my strength to hold back my need to squirm in my pull-up.

To my relief, the kitchen timer dinged. The pizza had finished, so we sat at the table to eat.

The pizza tasted so fresh and warm.

"Oh..." I said, my mouth still full. "This has to be one of the top three, no, top two pizzas I've ever had."

"Making it yourself adds to the flavor." He chuckled.

"Yeah, and I can make it a little spicier," I said.

Getting up, I reached for the remote. I switched on my television.

I clicked on the music app and put on Bob Marley's One Love.

Stretching out my arms to him, I flapped my fingers towards myself to reel him away from the table.

The hem of my blouse swished against my cute pull-up. His eyes darted to my swaying hips. I knew his urges had already returned.

How far would he get this time?

He stumbled getting up. I giggled and stroked my breasts with my hands, encouraging him to hurry over.

I put my arms over his shoulders. He placed his hands at the top of my back.

"Lower," I told him.

He descended halfway down to my behind.

"Lower," I repeated.

He continued till he felt the rim of my pull-up and stopped.

Together, we swayed to the music, taking awkward glances at each other, and laughing.

Nudging my pull-up against his 'wet' diaper, he jolted a little. I felt his stiffness through our padding. I rubbed them together, but he pulled away.

"Sorry," I said. "I thought you would like that."

"I do," he replied, "but doing it any longer will make me...have another accident."

"You don't want to cum?"

"I do but...I want it go differently this time."

I wiggled my pull-up against his diaper. "It will be different."

He moaned. His knees buckled. His toes curled. The little guy inside his diaper shook in anticipation of another glorious release. He grabbed me tight, and I sent him to brink.

My internal sigh threatened to escape at how long it would take to deflower him at this rate.

Before I could make him cum again though, he picked me up, carried me in his arms, and laid me on the couch where he got on top of me. His boldness warmed the inside of my pull-up.

He held his diaper right above my pull-up, not letting them touch. He exhaled in relief at having delayed the inevitable. He had avoided being pushed over the edge, yet he also kept himself on the brink in his current position.

He needed another lesson, so I further unbuttoned my blouse. I opened it just enough to allow his hand to slide beneath it as well as reveal my cute, alluring bra.

I glued his eyes to my breasts at once.

"You want to feel them," I said, stating the obvious fact.

Snatching his reluctant hand, I guided him to my bosom. He stood no chance once I got his hand passed my blouse.

Once his hand cupped my breast in its fine lingerie, his stiffness exploded.

"No!" He yelled in defeat.

He squirted as he held my breast. My breast which alone had caused him to cum in his diaper again.

I smiled at having made him so overwhelmed by my teasing he could not help emptying his precious desire for me into his diaper.

Recovering, he got up and readjusted his diaper after his stiffness turned soft, drained of its strength. I grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the couch. He lay on his back with his forearm hiding his eyes.

I kissed both his cheeks. Then, I rested my head on his ample pecks, dozing.

"Your diaper can't stand anymore 'accidents,'" I told him in a cheesy manner once we had finished a decent nap.

"I'm so-"

"Sh." I put my finger on his lips. "I made you cum in your diaper twice already with just my breasts. Maybe it's time you took it off."

He shook his head. "The way this is going, it looks like I still need it."

He all but admitted that because I proved to be too much for him so far, he needed to keep his diaper, and stay a virgin.

I resisted the temptation to just rip off his diaper on my couch.

"We'll take our time," I said instead. "Why don't you start by carrying me to my bedroom?"

Picking me up in his strong arms, the giddiness in my pull-up influenced me to wet it, but I held it back for now. I wanted him to be the only one wet.

Placing me on my bed, I patted the spot next to me. Slow and shaky, he lay beside me. I held out my hand. He took it. I then lured his hand to my breast.

Over my blouse and princess bra, I guided him in caressing me.

"Just like that," I said, closing my eyes.

Once he got the hang of it, he continued his exploration on his own, enraptured by the soft, stimulating feel of my bosom.

While he puffed staggered, intense breaths, fixated on my developed chest, I unbuttoned my blouse enough for a full view of my breasts in my cute pink bra. He opened my blouse wider, seeing everything.

He went back to massaging them, but he flinched, letting go to sooth the pinch his little guy received in his diaper due to the strenuous arousal from my breasts. It tickled me inside that he would soon lose it again in his diaper.

"Oh. Oh! OH!" He lost control of his moaning aches for me.

I rubbed the front of my pull-up while he fondled my breasts. I wanted to wet it so bad.

My lips journeyed ever closer to his as we scootched, caressed, and rubbed, all at once.

We kissed at last. No sooner did we though than I screamed into his mouth. The orgasm I received from us working together loosened my bladder. I wet my pull-up.

Hiding the crack in my restraint, both my hands covered my soggy padding.

"Do you have to go?" He asked since I looked so much like I needed to pee.

"No!" I spoke.

"Are you already wet?"

I went quiet.

"Move your hands."

I gave in, enraptured by the thrill of being caught. The little pink hearts on my pull-up had faded when the padding expanded.

He chuckled. "You have a wet diaper like me."

"My pull-up is not a diaper!"

"When you wet it, it stopped being training pants. It can only be a diaper now."

Seeing him so cocky, I smirked, ready to take him down. I scooched my wet pull-up until it pushed right against the front of his diaper. The bulge he still had inside shook when I smacked my soggy pink padding on it.

"Oh!" Moans replaced his snickering.

His attention reared to the cascading pleasure I scuttled into his diaper. Unable to resist the immense, gripping, overpowering stimulation I gave him, he let the sensation takeover.

Climbing on top of me, he grinded his diaper into my pull-up. He so enjoyed my ride.

He thrusted against me too enthralled to watch his pace.

"You're gonna cum in your diaper again," I warned him.

"I...can't...stop." He whimpered. "It feels too good!"

"Fine," I told him. "You can stay a virgin in your cummie diaper."

That slowed him down, but he had already passed the point of being able to stop. His desires split his actions down the middle. He so wanted to lose his virginity, but he had to cum in his diaper so bad. He fought his urges at every thrust. Each one brought him closer to no return.

He shut his eyes to keep a grip on his overwhelmed senses. At last, he managed to stop his thrusts without climaxing.

"Wow! Congrats," I said, and leaned up to give him a kiss.

When I lay back down though, and he opened his eyes, I made sure he saw me caressing my breast in my cute pink princess bra. My little tease proved too much for him. He lost it.

"Ah!" He yelled.

All his cries and whimpers could not hold back his gushing this time. He blasted into his diaper. His little guy shot till he had nothing left.

Through the spasms into his diaper, my breasts gripped his gaze till all bitter pleasure drained from him. He retreated from lying on top of me. He collapsed beside me, defeated, a virgin in his cummie diaper.

"If you ask me," I told him, "Your diaper looks pretty worn out. You should take it off, or better yet, I should since I made you cum in it so much."

"Okay," he said, soothing the front of his used-up diaper.

Spreading his legs, he submitted to me. I kneeled between them. I reached my hand out to his diaper, grabbed the side of it, and I tore one tape off. Then, I ripped off another. And another. Only one left.