We never had "the talk". She didn't need to sit me down and confess her naughty fantasy to me and talk me into trying it. All she needed to do was give me that little initial nudge and then reward me for following the steps she offered me to take.
She started it as a joke. I had always been a bit of a "dribbler" - not in a pee my pants-manner, I've just always had a very steady flow of precum the second I got horny. Don't get me wrong: This was never a problem! There's no such thing as too much lubrication when it comes to sex, at least in my opinion.
She was the first one to bring it up, and boy was that an orgasm. I hadn't been active for a while, and when she pulled my underpants down, she let out a bright laugh: "Wow, if I didn't know better I'd say you're done already! Your undies are soaked mister!"
As I mentioned, this was never something that I was selfconcious about. Under regular circumstances, I would have been at this point of course. However, what followed to that sentence was the weirdest dirty talk I had ever experienced up until then.
"You know what should happen to little boys who can't keep their pants dry?"
At this point, I didn't know where this was going. "They - they get punished?" I stammered.
Again, she chuckled. Which typically wouldn't have been something that I wanted a woman to do when I was lying there with my dick pointed straight as a die up in the air, but her sudden confidence turned me on more than that compassionate laugh.
"No dummy! We're not in the 1970s anymore. Today, little boys -" she explained while starting to go to town on me, "just have to wear some cute protective undies if they have little accidents. And if I look at the state of your boxers, you might have to be put into some pullups as well!"
Stop. Don't judge me. Yes, a normal guy would have stopped her right there and asked her what went through her head to make her believe THAT was good dirty talk. But you don't know what she was doing to me while saying that. I don't know, but overnight, it seems like she had turned into an absolute sex monster. No guy, especially not after a bit of abstinence, would have pushed that woman from him. Even though it was weird, the orgasm I had while she whispered "you're just a little dribbling pullup boy" into my ear surpassed every single one I've had before that day.
And afterwards? I had just shrugged it off as some weird but hot intermezzo in our otherwise standard and somewhat dull sex life. That's why my story doesn't end here.
One or two weeks later, she pushed me down and climbed on top of me again. This time however, she immediately pulled out a blue little rectangle. I'd learn that that was called a "Drynite" later on, but in the heat of the moment, I only really realized that she had exchanged my boxers for pullups when she pulled the bedwetting pants over my hips.
Yes, at that point I dared to stammer some butchered variation of "What are you doing?", but my attempt of a protest was shushed away and dare I say, countered with some valid points.
"Men don't need foreplay" my ass, seriously. Have you ever been seduced for an eternity? Until all it takes to bring you over the edge is like, two strokes in her? Anyways, what followed to that pullup was another highlight of my sex life. It was the first time that I had been devoured. And when she finally pulled that pullup to the side and made me explode in her, it had definitely absorbed quite a bit of my fluids.
She ripped that thing off of me and put it into the trash while I was still panting. Nonetheless, I asked another time: "What was that?"
She shrugged it off, pulled her cupped hand from between her legs and showed me the gooey sperm that was dribbling out of her. "I don't know" my girlfriend shrugged, "but it seems like you liked it"
Yes yes yes. I know. The counterargument isn't as strong in retrospective as it seemed to be when I was standing in the bathroom butt-naked. But it was a one-time occurence. For like a month, everything went back to normal. I'd initiate sex like I always would, she'd give in or not, missionary, bit of cuddling afterwards. Same procedure as every time. But you know, he who has tasted flight will walk the earth with his eyes turned skyward.
So when she pulled out one of the blue rectangles again, I bit my lip in anticipation, and she noticed that. Once again, I was seduced until I was nothing but a bibbering mess. When she finally pulled the padded garment to the side and slid my member into her, it felt like heaven again. This time, I held out a little longer, but that only made it better. Only that in this instance, after I was done, she pulled the soaked padding over my shrinking little man and told me to wait until she came back from the bathroom. Still panting, I obliged, and when she came back, she managed to open another door in the corridor of my sex life.
You see, in real life, most guys cannot go for round two after their girlfriends took a quick piss and came back to the bedroom. But it turns out that an ordinary vibrator on slightly soggy bit of padding can get you around that.
At that point, I had picked up the pattern. And you cannot blame me for not backing out of this one. Go ahead and show me the guy who would throw away the magic button that turns his girlfriend into a raging sexmonster on demand, I'll wait! Even if that means letting her put you into a freakin' diaper and saying "I'm your good little dribbling boy", no one would pass on that.
So of course, at that point, she knew that she had the reigns in her hands. I wasn't gonna stop her. Soon, the pack of drynites went into my underwear drawer. Every morning when I pulled it open, I had the choice between underwear and something that "looks and feels like underwear" - if you trust that slogan. It only took two times of "back to normal" before I finally made a move. One late night after a long day at work, I snatched one from the drawer. It was kind of a brave bet, but when she joined me after she was done with the dishes, all it took for me to get my reward was one well planned bend down in my pyjamas to present the waistband of my undergarment. I was rewarded immediately. The realization that I, on my own, had put on that little skimpy pullup lit the same spark as before in her, and after she was done with me, I just crashed.
This night was the first night in a very long time that I'd sleep in a diaper.
Beginning in that night, I used my recently discovered magic trick more and more. No matter how far I pushed it, I was not able to find borders in my girlfriends flaring-up libido. It was the best thing that could happen to me. Soon enough, I put one on almost every day before going to bed. More and more often, I'd find myself waking up in the remains of round two. Once I realized that number three in the morning was on the table if I just slipped into one after my morning shower, I took another step down onto the slippery slope of whatever path my girlfriend had prepared for me. Soon enough, I found myself at work wearing a drynite. And when I went to check my phone in my break, I was greeted with a very enticing appetizer for what was to come when I got home.
The diaper isle had become a regular stop when getting groceries. I know, when you're eagerly throwing pack after pack in the shopping cart, you should realize that something is up. But hell, I had fun. And my girlfriend as well. Win win. Arguably, me wearing these 'special panties' more often did not lead to more sex at this point. More orgasms, yes. But I spewed most of them right into the drynites I was wearing. Another warning sign, but hell, orgasm is orgasm. And it wasn't like I was missing out on stuff due to my sex addiction. No, in fact, my girlfriend got better and better at effectively managing me.
Did I ever pee in them? No. No, I did not. Until one day, some handymen had to turn off the water in our apartment. It seemed so perfectly logical when she proposed for me to use it. And (you know how it goes) when she pulled out the magic wand to overcome hindrance of the sodden padding, I had a hunch that I could get more.
More and more and more. I was derailed at this point. Peeing my pants became normal. The first leak on our couch was quickly forgotten when she had me begging for real diapers while pressing the magic wand in the mushy pullup in my groin. With the thick night time diapers that were delivered the next week, pulling the diapers to the side was not an option anymore. Didn't matter to me. Once a day after coming home from work was enough; it wasn't like I was lasting long anyways. My PR was two minutes, and with every second she shaved off of my time, be it with sex or with the vibrator in my crotch, she rewarded me with even more orgasms. No diaper went into the trash without at least two loads in there.
But my girlfriend was not done with me. Again, she started to dial back the orgasms. Coasting along was not an option with the frequency that I had gotten used to, so I started to look for the next step. And asked her to stop buying pullups. The changing "rubbies" had become a very welcome variety in the monotone humming of the vibrator, therefore - you guessed it - I asked for daytime diapers.
Soon after, I realized my underpants weren't coming back from the wash. I didn't ask about it. I counted them, and thought about how long it would be until I'd wear my last pair. And started to wonder what I'd have to do next to keep my girlfriend riled up.
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