Chapter One: Diapers for Three
Alan Bartholomew lay alone in bed listening for the sound he was longing to hear. Torturous minutes passed slowly until he heard the sound of his own front door closing. It was 7:30am and his daughter, Melissa had finally left for work.
Nineteen-year-old Melissa Bartholomew had only recently returned to live with her father. Her parent's divorce had been a bitter, spiteful affair and her mother had taken out her vengeance on Alan by using Melissa as a weapon of convenience. It wasn't exactly an original idea. An ex-wife denying a father access to his only child was par for the course in the ugly world of divorce and child custody. And so it was that Melissa had completely disappeared from her father's life a few days before her tenth birthday. He had neither seen nor spoken to her in almost ten years until the fateful phone call three weeks earlier.
Melissa and her mother were fighting. Badly, and often. And suddenly, it had gotten nasty. The unresolved bitterness in her mother's soul had eaten her from the inside out. The ugliness had finally reached the surface and created ugly scars and holes for all to see. She had flaunted her daughter's secret problem in her face once too often. Melissa had had enough and so took her meagre possessions and left.
There was only one place for her to go - her father's. In truth, there were a few friends or even relatives who would have taken he in, even if grudgingly. But in the final breakup with her mother, she realised that she had allowed her father to be taken from her and had not even fought it. But now she was free and her decisions were her own – for good or for ill.
It was shock that Alan had felt for a few seconds after answering the phone. The voice was not all that familiar but the word daddy was. Ten seconds of pleasantries passed before Alan was inviting, no begging, Melissa to return to the town she had known as a child. He no longer lived in the same house. The financial disaster called divorce had forced him to smaller accommodations. But there were three bedrooms, one of which was spare with an empty bed just waiting for a warm body to turn it into a place called home.
Alan stepped out of bed and stripped off his pyjamas. Stark naked, he walked to Melissa's bedroom door and reverently opened it.
He smelt it as soon as the door was opened. The smell of pee.
His flaccid cock jerked slightly as his nostrils filled with the aroma that his bedwetting daughter had created; a smell that had enticed him every morning since she had returned.
He glanced at the open bed and saw two small wet stains on the white cotton sheets.
Her diaper overflowed! Wonderful!
He stepped over to her bed and reverently placed his face just about the wet stains and inhaled deeply. His cock began to erect as he breathed in the heady aroma of her urine.
But this was not the only reason he was in her room. There were other treasures to be found there.
Alan went to the foot of her bed and opened the lid to her white plastic diaper pail. A broad smile erupted on his face as he beheld the treasure.
He lifted the wet diaper, still inside the clear large plastic pants Melissa had worn over them and noted by the weight, that she had wet very heavily that night. He pulled the sodden diaper out of the plastic pants and excitedly laid it open on her bed. He refolded the diaper a tiny bit larger and then stared longingly at the centre of the sodden material. It was that portion of the diaper that had caressed her pussy for ten hours; that material that had first received her uncontrolled night wetting.
Alan was almost jealous of the diaper. It spent all of its useful life up close to the part of his daughter that he had never even seen. He didn't count the two diaper changes he had been conned into when Melissa was not even one year old. His daughter's pussy now haunted him like a dream just beyond his reach.
He carefully stepped up onto the bed and slowly lowered himself onto the wet diaper. As soon as his backside touched it, his cock went to full length and began to throb. He laid back, picked up two pins and expertly pinned his daughter's diaper onto himself. Grabbing a pair of his own plastic pants, he pulled them up his legs and quickly encased the diaper in their protective grasp. He was too big to fit safely into Melissa's pants; he had torn a pair the first morning after she had arrived.
He was ecstatic as he sat in her urine loaded diaper. Then, with a big smile on his face, he released his bladder. Piss flooded into the already soaked material, totally filling it and forming a pool in the plastic pants. He leant over and picked up the pair of Melissa's worn panties from the top of her laundry basket and held the gusset to his nose and breathed deeply.
His head swooned as the sweet, erotic smell of his daughter's pussy filled his nostrils. The aroma caused his pulse to quicken and his cock to harden.
He turned and laid face down in his daughter's bed. The overfilled diaper leaked immediately and a flood of piss flowed out underneath him and onto the sheets below. The thick plastic protector saved the mattress but the bed itself was awash. With his face breathing deeply into the panties he began to slowly hump the sodden diaper.
Alan Bartholomew gradually picked up speed as he fucked the wet diaper with long sensuous strokes. As the strong smell of his daughter's pussy aroused him even more, he visualised that it wasn't a diaper he was fucking; rather that it was Melissa's deep silky cunt he was stroking into. He could smell it, he could taste it. But he had never seen, never mind fucked, the pussy he lusted after so badly.
It didn't take long. It never did. After a few minutes of enthusiastic thrusting, Alan's generous sized manhood erupted and splattered the inside of Melissa's diaper with copious squirts of his semen. Orgasmic pleasure rippled throughout his body from his head to his toes. Masturbation was never anywhere as near as powerful as it was when he made love to his daughter's diaper and panties. The pleasure was so powerful it overwhelmed him and he just lay there, immobile, waiting for the pleasure to evaporate, lest he move and diminish the magic.
The first time he had performed this ritual – two days after she had arrived – Alan had immediately jumped up, taken the diaper off and sworn he would never repeat his disgusting act. But the next morning he repeated it. The drive was just too strong. The attraction was far too intense. The sexual desire for the diapers, the damp panties, and most of all, for Melissa's pussy, was just too strong to ignore. This morning, he laid there satisfied and happy for over ten minutes. In his mind he had just made love to his daughter in her own wet bed. It was the heady stuff of wishes and dreams. But he knew it would never actually be.
He reluctantly stripped her bed and washed her sheets and diapers, just as he had offered to do the first night she had slept there. He said he just wanted her to feel welcome and accepted. He wanted her to know that he had no problems with her bedwetting and that he would take care of it for her. She never knew that every wet diaper was worn and masturbated into by her father in the mornings. If she had inspected her worn panties more closely she would have seen the dried semen in the crotch of almost every pair. Every afternoon, her father jerked his thick cock onto the gusset of her panties and watched as his cum soaked into the material. He knew it was as close as his cock would ever get to her pussy. His semen would never flood into her as he so often imagined. But compared to the solo sex of the last few years, it was still heaven for Alan and his fertile imagination.
It could be worse. But it could also be so very much better.
On the other side of the country, Alison Wanslea, 42 year old mother of two woke to the sounds of clattering in the kitchen. Her twin sixteen-year-old boys were making a breakfast of sorts before school. They were never discreet or quiet in anything they did. Breakfast was a high decibel affair
Ignoring the din from down the hallway, Alison slipped her left hand inside the band of her pyjama bottoms and touched the top of her plastic pants. She already knew she was wet. Not that she was often dry.
Ever since the difficult birth of the twins, Alison had struggled not to wet her bed. Eventually, it was a battle that was lost and a few years later she succumbed to the inevitable and returned to night diapers. At first, it was an abject humiliation to have to tape disposable diapers on in the bathroom and then walk shame-faced to the bedroom in the dark, where she would sleep as far away from her understanding husband as she could. He accepted the diapers but Alison did not. She felt less of a woman and more like a baby or an incontinent geriatric.
A few months later, something very special and unexpected happened. Alison awoke that morning hot and horny and, as usual, soaking wet. Her husband had risen and was deeply involved in the minutiae of domestic life. Rather than remove the soaked diaper as she usually would, she squeezed her legs tightly together and felt the unusual sensation of the soaking disposable gently squeezing her clitoris. She quickly closed and unclosed her legs, feeling the caress of the garment on her most sensitive areas. She then grabbed the diaper between her legs and pulled it firmly against her body. Desire flooded through her body as she allowed the wet garment to stimulate her in ways she had expected.
With her heart beating strongly, Alison knew that something new and exciting was happening to her. She didn't know what it was, but she did know that she liked it. Life had been feeling extraordinarily dull of late. It was routine, predictable and borderline boring. Whatever this was, it was exciting.
She lay quietly on the bed for a few moments before her right hand reached underneath the band of her diaper, passed through the thick forest of dark pubic hair and found her clitoris. The moment she touched it, an electric thrill rushed throughout her body. Stunned by the experience, Alison quickly pulled her hand back out again like a young child who just discovered that parts of her body could bring pleasant sensations and thought it was somehow wrong. Alison loved sex but this was more somehow. A part of her body was being triggered that had not yet seen the light of day.
She plunged her hand back under the waist band and her fingers sank easily into her vagina which was dripping wet with more than pee. The tight diaper constricted her hand movements but not so much that she couldn't rub her clitoris with her own juices. Pleasure radiated out in pulses, flowing along every nerve and fibre of her body. She was oblivious to anybody and anything as she thrashed around on the bed with her hand furiously inside the diaper. Her climax, when it hit her, was furious and violent. She screamed out loud and then collapsed, exhausted and panting, barely able to catch her breath.
No climax, no intercourse had ever been as powerful or as exhilarating as what she had just experienced. The combination of her bedwetting, her diapers and her fingers had given her the best orgasm of her life.
From that day on, she was a changed woman. It took a few weeks to become freely comfortable about changing into diapers in front of her husband but before long the guilt and shame about her bedwetting was gone. In its place was a secret desire; a longing for the private minutes each morning when she could launch herself into ecstasy and enjoy the stimulation and sensations that nothing else could bring. It brought a spring back into her step and smiles back to her face.
It wasn't long before she experimented with wearing diapers during the day under loose fitting skirts. She found that the simple act of wearing them seemed to render her virtually incontinent – unable to control her pee. Or was it simply unwilling? Either way, she was wet. She was careful that no-one found out her secret desire. She continued to be the picture perfect wife, mother and carefully diapered bed partner. She moved to cloth diapers to reduce the expense as well as to avoid the explanations of excessive diaper use.
It remained her secret for many years.
Today, some thirteen years since she first donned a night diaper, Alison took her few precious moments and masturbated to a glorious orgasm just as she did most mornings. There was no scream this time; she had long since learned to expect the powerful feelings and emotions that would flood though her. She was in control.
Alison got up, showered and performed her maternal domestic duties with her customary skill. At 8:15am the twins left for school, where they would waste yet another day of private school tuition fees in their half-hearted search for knowledge. Her husband had already put on suit and tie and shuffled off to his mundane, if very well paid, job in the city.
She was alone.
Five minutes later, her dry cloth diaper and milky white plastic pants were pinned tightly around her waist under her skirt and top, as she turned on her computer.
I hope he's online this morning! I want to catch up on all the news! And I wonder what he thinks about my idea!
(to be cont)