Amber Fountaine stories contain sexually explicit descriptions of consensual sexual activity and are not suitable for reading by anyone under the age of 18 or anyone offended by reading such material. These acts include gay and bisexual activity as well as water sports, diapers, cross-dressing and other fetishes and perversions that may please the author's whims. The characters in these stories are fictional, but are based on the author's true experiences, as well as the experiences of others he has met.
The Contest
(Gay, Urination)
Chuck had been reading a newsletter when they'd started and Chuck's comment about an article had appealed to Glen and stuck in his mind for a moment. But then, as Chuck's cock swelled to it's full size, Glen's mind cleared of all thoughts except the dick in his mouth and sucking out another load of Chuck's sweet cream.
Glen wasn't at all bothered that Chuck had seemed indifferent to getting a blowjob. It had been like that for years. Chuck would keep right on reading or watching TV, sometimes working at the computer or doing a crossword puzzle, or like this morning, eating breakfast, almost as if he didn't know his friend and lover of nearly 20 years was sucking his cock. Yet they both knew from all those years of experience, that at some point, Chuck's cock would reach it's maximum size, begin to drool delicious pre-cum on Glen's tongue, and then Chuck would stop whatever else he was doing to stroke Glen's bobbing head.
Neither of the two could give an accurate guess as to how many times this scene had occurred. At one time they'd speculated at ten-thousand times, and that had been a couple of years back. They'd been living together since May of 1983, shortly after running into each other at a 20 year, high school reunion and discovering that they'd both recently divorced. Within a week they'd decided to share an apartment and Glen had sucked his buddy's dick at least once a day ever since - with the lone exception of the three days when Chuck had flown to Colorado for his daughter's wedding and had been told to, 'leave your faggot boyfriend at home'.
It was a near perfect relationship. Glen absolutely LOVED sucking cock. And Chuck absolutely LOVED having his cock sucked. Not that it was entirely one-way. Chuck was happy to reciprocate but wasn't nearly as fanatical about it as Glen. Chuck seldom wore clothes at home, preferring to stay naked and available for whatever Glen wanted. Sometimes Glen wanted a blowjob and sometimes he wanted Chuck's ass, but most of the time - almost all the time - he wanted Chuck's cock in his mouth.
As Glen felt Chuck's testacies draw up, he knew the end was near and it was time to 'flick the switch' as they called it. Glen would either use two or three fingers to apply pressure right behind Chuck's scrotum or would put the middle finger of one hand in Chuck's ass so that the sensations reached Chuck's prostate. That was Chuck's 'go' button and within a second or two, his eruption would begin.
In Glen's opinion, Chuck had an unusual way of shooting his cum. In the years between when they'd discovered male-male sex in high school and then gotten back together over twenty years later, Glen had sucked a lot of cocks. It seemed to Glen that every one of them would shoot it's longest or strongest ribbon of jism on the first shot and then subside to increasingly smaller shots until the guy was just drooling out the rest of his cum. Chuck wasn't like that.
With Chuck, the first spurt was sort of a teaser, but the second or third might fly across the room if it missed Glen's mouth. Glen tried to make sure that never happened. He craved the taste of cum and would live on jism if he could. As he continued to lavish the head of Chuck's cock with his tongue and lips, Glen eased a finger in Chuck's ass and flicked that magic switch. The result wasn't as fast as turning on a light switch, more like the time it takes a candle flame to reach full strength when lit. "About a head bob and a half" they'd once joked to some gay friends.
Glen didn't bother bobbing his head. He locked his lips around Chuck's shaft, about two inches below the head, and applied maximum suction as he felt the spasms begin. There wasn't much cum - Glen had gotten most of it an hour or so earlier in bed - but it was enough for Glen to feel rewarded and thankful. He thought about lingering for more, that delicious amber chaser that often followed, but decided Chuck's bladder couldn't possibly be full again so quick and that was okay. There was lots of day ahead of them.
"Remind me to send Doc another 'Thank You' card," Chuck quipped as Glen returned to his seat at the breakfast table.
They both chuckled about that little joke. Glen had lost most of his front teeth in an accident in the Army in his twenties. For years he'd worn partial dentures, loosing another tooth every few years. Then about five years back, Glen had given in to having the remainder pulled and had worn full dentures ever since. He didn't wear them when he sucked cock and that's what Chuck's remark had been about. Chuck was wild about the way Glen's gums felt when Glen sucked his cock. Mark 'Doc' Moravitz was one of their gay friends and knew full well why he got an anonymous 'Thank You' card a couple of times a year.
Glen was almost finished with his breakfast plate when Chuck's earlier remark popped back up in his mind. "What were you saying a while ago about a contest?"
They received a weekly newsletter from a statewide GLBT group by email and Chuck had printed it out so they both could read it. It sometimes bothered Chuck that Glen had no interest in using the computer himself. "Here, it's toward the end," he told Glen, passing him the printed pages. "And there's a reminder about the picnic this afternoon. Are you still thinking about going?"
Glen had to chuckle at Chuck's apprehension over appearing together at a gay picnic in a public park. Glen had come out right after his divorce, even before he'd retired from the Army. But Chuck had stayed in the closet until after he'd retired from the Postal Service four years ago. While his homosexuality had never been that big a secret, at least among friends and family, Chuck still wasn't comfortable admitting it.
Glen decided to have some fun. "Cold beer, hot bare-chested twinks in nylon shorts - what more could a man want?" He teased. "I'm surprised you're not insisting we go."
Chuck smiled, shook his head, and passed Glen the comic section of the paper while he dug for the puzzles and asked, "You'd rather have hotdogs than my barbecue?"
"Oh yeah, you better not fire up the grill. I forgot to notify the Volunteer Fire Department you were cooking again."
"I'll remember that next time I'm doing steaks. I'll grill a nice one for myself and fix you a couple of dogs."
"Sweetie, the only weenie I want is yours."
"Then come finish what you started. All that coffee has run right through me."
Glen smiled and laid the newsletter on top of the comics. "After this morning, I'm surprised you have anything left. My belly was sloshing by the time we got out of bed."
"I'd have pissed in your diaper, but it was already leaking. Besides, I know you love to drink it."
"That's true," Glen admitted as he once again crawled between Chuck's legs. Only this time, instead of crawling under the table to get at Chuck's cock, he had Chuck turn his chair sideways. "But for your information smart-ass, I put on a dry diaper before breakfast and it's hardly wet at all and you know how I hate a dry diaper." Then he smiled at Chuck and waited for his response.
"Half and half?" Chuck asked, knowing from years of experience what his friend wanted.
Glen smiled and nodded. Then he closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and used his thumbs to hold out the waist of his diaper, giving Chuck a couple of holes to aim at.
Chuck alternated between the two, pissing down the front of Glen's diaper and then moving the stream up to Glen's mouth and back again. Part of Chuck's piss went in Glen's diaper, part in Glen's mouth, and some of it soaked the t-shirt that Glen was wearing. This was a scene that went so far back that it predated sex between them as young boys in early adolescence. It gave Glen an idea.
When Chuck had finished peeing, Glen gave his cock a quick kiss and told him, "I read that thing about the contest. Think I should write about how we started?"
The story that Chuck had wanted him to read was about a contest the newsletter was having, asking couples that had been together for more than five years to write a letter about how they met and how a liaison had developed and what they felt was 'the key' to their long lasting relationship. The winner would receive a plane trip and weekend for two at a well-known gay B&B in Key West.
"You mean the pissing contests?" Chuck asked to be sure.
"Yeah," Glen said with a grin. "That's what led to everything else. I'll enter our contest in the contest."
They both grinned and thought back to when they'd both been thirteen, going on fourteen as hard as they could, and were looking for an outlet for all their hormonal energy.
There was only one thing that attracted the two young boys to each other - flying model airplanes. In every other way, they were opposites. Glen was scrawny - almost underweight. Charley, as he was known then, was already developing muscles and was obviously destined to be a star in whatever sports he might choose. Glen was new to town, but they were both new to Hawking Junior School so that put them on somewhat of an equal footing there. What gave Glen an ever-so-slight edge, was that the only Model Airplane club in town met at the Army post and Glen's dad was in the Army. Being Glen's friend gave Charley access to the old heliport that the club used to fly their planes.
Neither had older siblings or parents they could approach with the questions that fill an adolescents mind, so it was natural that they consulted with each other about sex. Unfortunately, neither had any more knowledge than the other, so there was a lot of supposition and speculation in their discussions. Then a boy named Jackson Jackson had gotten things going for them.
Jackson Jackson was another Army brat like Glen. Jackson's dad had come up with this brilliant idea, based on the Army way of calling everyone by their last name, to name his son Jackson Jackson. Like so many brilliant parental ideas, it was the son that had to live with it.
Inevitably, every teacher would see Jackson's name on their roll, assume someone in the office had made a mistake, and ask him - to the delight of his fellow students - what his first name was. Normally, anything that would make a seventh grader stand out from the crowd, any sort of individuality, was to be avoided. But in Jackson's case, since the name thing seemed to antagonize the teachers, it made him a minor hero. And since he was as big and strong as an ox, he definitely didn't have to worry about being teased.
There was something else outstanding about Jackson that both boys had noticed, thanks to the communal showers in gym class. His cock was much larger that most of the other boys and wasn't circumsized. Up to that momentous day in gym class, both boys had assumed that all males had pricks like their own. They'd never seen or heard of one that was different and it lead to a lot of speculation.
"Did you notice how the end of it is all shriveled? Glen asked Charley as they walked home after school. "What do you suppose happened to it?"
"It so long," Charley guessed aloud, "It might have got caught in something."
Glen thought about that and shuddered. "I wish mine was as big as yours - but I damn sure wouldn't want one so big it got caught in things."
"I wouldn't mind if it got caught in Miss Briggs," Charley bragged.
"Yeah, me too. She's got a set of bumpers like my grandpa's Buick."
"You really wish your prick was as big as mine?" Charley asked, setting him up.
"Yeah. Yours is as big as any of the white guys."
"If you really like my dick that much, I'll let you play with it."
"Fuck you. Play with it yourself. I ain't no queer!"
"Mine's bigger - it'd be more fun for you to play with."
"Fuck you," Glen said again, unable to come up with a comeback. Maybe because in the recesses of his mind, he knew Charley might be right. It was something to think about and beginning that afternoon, he thought about it a lot.
Again, it was Jackson Jackson that gave the boys another matter to discuss. The three, along with a few other boys, were in the gym shower when Jackson turned away from the corner showerhead, aimed his dick at the drain and began to pee. Charley saw what was happening and took advantage of it to play a prank on Glen.
"Shit. Forgot my soap," Charley said aloud, risking the coach's paddle for cursing. "Glen - lend me your soap."
Glen had worked up a full lather in his hair and didn't dare open his eyes. He felt around until he found his soap on the little metal tray and then held it out blindly in the direction of Charley's voice.
"Can't reach it," Charley told him and got a smirk from some of the other boys that had figured out what was happening.
Glen stepped forward a step and then two, waiting for Charley to take the soap from his hand. He was wondering why Charley couldn't reach the offered bar of soap since he had to be closer to Charley's side than his own by then and why it sounded like some of the other boys were laughing. He began to speculate if Charley was pulling some sort of prank again and then it hit him that he shouldn't feel hot water squirting on his legs in a steady stream in the middle of the shower.
Then, in just a couple of seconds, he had made everything worse. He instinctively tried to open his eyes to see what was going on. The soap from his head had run down his face and immediately made his eyes burn. He tried to rub the soap from his eyes using his forearms and that caused him to drop the soap the he'd been holding out to Charley.
Anyone that dropped a bar of soap and didn't retrieve it quick enough was subject to loosing their soap in a game of 'soap soccer' or 'keep-away', where the bar of soap would be kicked across the tile floor from one boy to another and always just out of reach of the soap's rightful owner.
So again, on instinct and squinting to see the floor, Glen bent over and attempted to retrieve his bar of soap. As luck would have it, Glen bent so that Jackson was now peeing all over his ass. It was a miracle that the laughter from the shower didn't cause the coach to come investigate.
For the next two weeks, until some other boy pulled a bonehead stunt and became the subject of the other boy's collective ridicule, Glen was teased unmercifully about being peed on in the shower. Glen was so mad at Charley that he refused to speak to him. It was nearly a month later, at the next Model Airplane Club meeting, that the two boys renewed their friendship.
"I really shouldn't have tricked you like that," Charley admitted.
"I guess I really looked like an idiot," Glen conceded.
"Probably wouldn't have been so bad if you hadn't looked like you liked it," Charley commented and Glen agreed.
With their friendship once again intact, piss play became a subject for discussion. The old heliport was abandoned and the hanger that housed the latrine was closed except for the Saturday once a month when the club had its official meetings. So if the boys went out there any other time and needed to pee, they stepped around to the back of the hanger and let it fly. With pee a new and tacit bond between them, they began to make those trips together. And since they saw each other naked in the gym shower five days a week, they weren't at all embarrassed to wave their dicks around and show them off. And of course there was always the inane teenage verbiage that went with it.
"That thing's a squirt-gun," Charley would brag. "Mine is more like a fire-hose.
"Fire-hose my ass. You couldn't put out a burning match. Yours might be bigger, but I can piss further and longer."
"You want me to use my fire-hose on your ass? I though you only liked Jackson's?"
"Stick your fire-hose up your ass."
"How about I stick it up your ass? Every time you look at it, it gets hard."
"It gets hard because you're always playing with it."
"That's because you won't play with it any more."
"I never played with it to begin with!" Glen countered, getting exasperated.
"Oh yeah, I forgot. You only like to play with Jackson's. Which do you like more - white cocks or black cocks?"
"I didn't say I like either. Which do you like?"
The two boys had that conversation - or one that was very similar - several times a week. It usually occurred while they were peeing, usually while staring at each other's cocks, and they usually were both stiff by the time the bantering was done. If it ever came to mind for either boy to wonder why they often left their pricks hanging out long after they'd finished peeing, neither ever mentioned it. But their bragging about who could pee further or longer gave them the basis to segue into the next level of their exploration.
Charley was amazed when Glen made good on his claim to be able to pee further and equally astonished when it appeared that Glen also could pee longer or in greater quantity. The first time Glen bested him, Charley wrote it off to being a fluke. Glen teased him about finally beating him at something. "Even my baby brother wets his diaper more than you can." Glen had said.
But after a second, and then a third contest, with Glen winning each time, Charley demanded to know his secret. Charley was half again Glen's size in every way and to Charley's way of thinking, he should be able to easily beat Glen in any sort or form of a physical contest - whether it was arm wrestling, a foot race, or taking a piss.
"It's the way I hold it," Glen finally told him.
Charley misunderstood the answer and asked, "Are you serious? Holding it is how you win?"
Glen grinned at him, almost embarrassed to admit the secret was so simple. "Yep."
Charley was not a graceful loser and he mistook Glen's self-conscious grin as a smirk. In anger he told Glen, "Well then God damn it, hold mine and show me!"
When Glen realized Charley's error, that Charley thought he'd meant hold his dick instead of hold his bladder, Glen cracked up. He wanted to explain, but the more he thought about it, the harder he laughed. And the harder he laughed, the madder it made Charley. This time they were holding their pissing contest by the side of a stock pond, not far from where the two boys lived. When Charley stepped toward him, Glen's first fear was that Charley was about to toss him in the pond. It had happened before and the way they were dressed - or in this case, undressed to go skinny-dipping - getting tossed in the water wouldn't have mattered. So Glen stood his ground and tried to stop laughing.
Just as Charley got within reach, Glen was calmed to where he could speak and was about to explain, but never got the chance. "Show me," Charley said again with emphasis and then grabbed Glen's hand and put it on his prick.
The words in Glen's throat got stuck there. Holding Charley's cock was a fantasy of Glen's that Glen wouldn't admit, even to himself. Now he had the perfect, deniable opportunity. So Glen began to squeeze and fondle Charley just like he had in his most secret dreams. And Charley responded, just like he had in those dreams.
Charley quickly got hard and the look of anger on his face softened just as rapidly. "I don't think this has anything to do with it," Charley told him, still thinking that Glen was supposed to be showing him some special way to give his prick more pee power. But as the pleasure consumed him, he made no move to stop Glen from playing with his erection.
"If you want to learn the secret, you have to hold mine too," Glen told him, as the two boys got more erotically stimulated.
Soon they were facing each other, barely a foot apart, and stroking each other's cocks the same way they liked to stroke their own. The style and pressure was different and that just made it all the more exciting. After a minute or two, Charley announced, "Go faster - I'm gonna cum."
Glen speeded up his stroking but not enough to satisfy Charley. He pulled his hand off Glen's prick, knocked Glen's hand out of the way, and then began to pump his prick with awesome speed. Several seconds of that and he groaned and began shooting cum all over Glen, from his naval to his knees. Glen watched, fascinated to see someone else cum, and then began to stroke his own cock, gathering Charley's cum to use as a lubricant. In a minute, it was Glen's turn to shoot cum all over Charley.
With their immediate needs met and their sexual energy levels a little closer to normal, they were both slightly embarrassed about what had happened. Charley turned and jumped in the murky water before his prick was fully deflated. Like almost everything else the two did together, Glen followed him, using the muddy stock-pond water to wash off the other boy's jism. After a few minutes of horsing around in the water, they climbed out together to let the sun and breeze dry them so they could get dressed.
The boys looked at each other's naked form in a new way. "That was fun," Charley commented.
"Yeah. We oughta do it again," Glen told him. He wasn't sure if Charley had been talking about what had happened between them or the skinny-dipping, but he was hoping it was the former. Then he told him, "I guess I should tell you why I always win our pissin' contests." When he had Charley's attention, he explained.
While Charley had assumed because of his larger size and physical abilities that he could easily win their contest, Glen had known he'd have to take advantage of every possible trick to stand a chance. So to begin with, any time there was a possibility they might have one of their pissing contests, Glen would refrain from using the restroom, while pretending that he had, and would damn near have piss running down his leg. Charley was going into the contests with a bladder that was half full at best.
So with Glen's secret tactic out in the open, Charley decided he'd do the same thing and the result was that every time the boys met after school, for whatever reason, on the chance that a peeing contest might develop, they were both dying for relief. Inevitably, some after school horseplay in Charley's backyard led to Glen losing control and wetting his pants. And once the pee flow started, Glen didn't bother to try to stop it.
"Maybe you ought to wear diapers like your little brother," Charley teased.
"Maybe I will. Bet you're too chicken shit to try it."
"They don't make diapers big enough for guys like me," Charley taunted. "Only for little babies like you."
"If you fold them right, they'd probably fit old lady Cunningham," Glen told him, giggling at the thought of their 300-pound History teacher in a diaper.
Charley laughed at that too. "Man, you'd have to fold up a couple of bed sheets or something to fit her." While they'd been talking, Charley had opened his jeans and pulled out his cock. "I gotta pee too," he told Glen. "No sense in us both pissin' in our pants."
But once his prick was out in the open and hanging free, instead of turning away and using one hand to aim his flow like he normally did, Charley just let the piss flow go, splattering at Glen's feet.
"Hey shit head! You're gonna get it all over me," Glen howled, dancing out of the way.
"So what? You're wet anyway. Maybe you should aim it for me."
Glen hesitated for a moment, if that long. It had been a couple of weeks since that afternoon at the pond and while neither boy had mentioned what had happened that day, Glen had thought about it constantly. Charley's pee was still flowing strong as Glen stepped into it and wrapped his fingers around Charley's dick. He lifted it slightly so that the piss was hitting the fly of his pants, right in the spot that was already wet.
Charley smiled in approval, or maybe confirmation, almost as if it was what he'd expected Glen to do. "Feel good?" he asked Glen.
Glen nodded, not sure if Charley meant the warmth of the piss soaking into his jeans or the exciting sensation of having Charley's cock in his hand again. It didn't matter as either way the answer was yes. He was looking forward to jacking Charley's cock and making him cum again when they were interrupted.
They'd been playing in Charley's backyard and had been wrestling when Glen had wet himself. They'd quickly stepped out of sight behind some shrubs in the rear of the garage where they continued to enjoy their piss play. But about the time that Glen was ready to milk a different fluid from Charley's stiffening prick, Charley's little sister had started hollering for him and if Charley didn't respond, she would probably come looking.
Quickly zipping up and whispering for Glen to be quiet and stay put, he hollered back to his sister that he was coming. "Wish you had," Glen whispered back, getting a grin from Charley as he disappeared around the corner of the hedges.
A few minutes later, he was back and in a rush. "I told my mom you went home and I dropped something while we were wrestling. We're going out to meet my dad somewhere for pizza and she wanted you to come with us. I kinda thought that wasn't a good idea with you in pissy pants. You can stay here until you're dry enough to go home."
During the hour or so it took Glen's pants to dry to the point that the piss stain wasn't noticeable, he had a lot of time to think about what had happened as well as Charley's suggestion that he wear diapers. What Charley didn't know was that Glen had been doing a lot of experimenting with finding ways to enjoy his piss. Not long after he'd been peed on by Jackson, Glen had begun peeing on himself in the bathtub before taking a shower. Lately he'd been peeing in his mouth and drinking it.
About the same time, while getting ready for school one morning, Glen's little brother Tony had come scampering into his room, running away from their mother. When their mom had caught up to the giggling toddler, she'd made a remark that stuck indelibly in Glen's mind.
"He's just like you were when you were his age," his mom had said. "When his diaper is wet, he doesn't want me to take it off."
"I did that?" Glen had asked, surprised.
"Oh yeah. Most babies cry when their diaper is wet. You cried whenever I took a wet diaper off of you. Little Tony's almost as bad. I hope that doesn't mean he's gonna be a bedwetter too."
"I was a bedwetter?"
"Until you started the third grade in school. Don't you remember when we were stationed at Ft. Benning and I had to diaper you every night?"
Shaking his head, Glen had told her, "No. I don't remember." But even as he said it, the memories he'd shut out for years came flooding back.
"Well that was when your dad got three different assignments in less than five years and I think all that moving was probably why it happened. I hope that was it. I hate to think I'll have to go through that with little Tony." Then she'd added, as she left the room with Tony on her hip, "Probably a good thing I kept your old plastic pants just in case. Those extra large ones are hard to find."
That conversation with his mom must have run through Glen's mind five or six times a day since then and probably twice that often during the hour that he waited for his pants to dry. As soon as the wetness wasn't visible, he ran home and went straight to his room. His underpants were still wet and his prick was still hard and it didn't take long, stroking himself through the wet material and thinking about wearing a diaper, for Glen to cum.
It was another two days before he had the house to himself long enough to dig through the drawers and closets in Tony's room where he found the large plastic pants that she'd mentioned. There were four pair in a box with some other children's clothes he'd outgrown. Glen took one pair and stashed them in his room, certain he'd find a way to use them, but not sure as yet just how. In a way, Kerry Ann Sterns gave him the answer.
The following weekend, Kerry Ann was scheduled to baby-sit. While his parents assured Glen they certain he was old enough to no longer need a sitter, they thought it best to have someone keep an eye on little Tony. So when Kerry Ann canceled out at the last minute and a replacement couldn't be found, Glen volunteered to baby-sit his little brother.
"She's only a year older than me mom," he pleaded. "And you have me bath and change Tony all the time anyway." He could tell his mom was warming to the idea, and he knew exactly how to appeal to his dad. "And if I do it, you won't have to pay me," he added. That just about clinched it, but then he got another idea. "I could have Charley spend the night with me. He takes care of his little sister all the time when his folks go out."
Getting Charley's folks to okay an impromptu sleepover was a little more difficult, but Glen's mom talking to Charley's mom got it done. A couple of hours later, Glen's mom was giving the boys last minute instructions as she and Glen's dad were going out the door. "Make sure the baby has a dry diaper before you put him to bed."
As soon as the door was closed, Charley set the mood for the evening. "Did she mean you or your brother?" he teased.
"Maybe both," Glen told him, trying not to smile, and walked off.
A while later, as they watched TV, Glen excused himself. In Tony's room, he found the pile of diapers his mom had washed that morning and set about finding a way to fold one similar to his little brother's, but big enough to fit him. Soon after his mom had told him about how he'd enjoyed soggy diapers and wetting the bed, he began to show interest in helping her change little Tony. He'd asked his mother why she'd made them so thick in front but not in back and his mom had explained that little boys wet the front so there needed to be more material there to absorb it and that they were looser in back for when he pooped in his diaper. She also explained that there were several ways to fold a diaper, depending on the size of the child it was put on, and how she'd used three or four different ways or more to fold his diapers from the time he was an infant until he finally quit wetting the bed.
He wished he could have asked her for a demonstration without arousing her suspicions. What he quickly discovered was that if he used the same sized pieces of diaper material, he needed to fold a diaper for himself completely different than the way his mom had shown him to fold little Tony's. And because he couldn't fold the material over as much, he needed to use more diapers just to make one that would work for him. After several tries, he came up with a diaper that looked and felt like the real thing and was big enough that he could pin it on. But the plastic pants were much, much snugger than when he'd tried them on over his underwear.
Glen had expected some sort of sarcastic remark, but instead, Charley uttered, "Hot shit!" when he looked up and saw Glen come back in the room wearing the diaper and plastic pants. "Where did you get that?"
Glen explained about the plastic pants his mom had stashed away, her remarks about his liking to keep on a wet diaper when he was younger, and how he'd figured out a way to fold some of his brother's diapers so they fit him. He decided, at least for the present, not to mention his bedwetting as a youth. Charley heard him out without comment and Glen was sure he'd ask a bunch of questions when he finished, but he had only one.
"Did you pee in it yet?" Charley asked, feeling the front of Glen's diaper.
"No. Not yet. I went to pee and that's when I thought about trying to do this. I'll probably try wetting it later."
"Want some help?"
"With what?"
"Wetting your diaper dumb-ass. I know you liked it when I helped you wet your pants. I could pee down the front of your diaper and help you get it wet."
"Yeah, that would be cool."
"I probably ought to get undressed first. Is that cool too?"
"Uh, yeah. That's . . . . okay."
"I didn't bring any pajamas so I'll probably sleep naked anyway. Might as well get ready now."
That sort of made sense to Glen. He usually wore pajamas and often put them on an hour or two before he went to bed. So if you slept in the nude, and there weren't any girls around to complain, why not get naked an hour or two before bed. Glen waited while Charley went to Glen's room to undress. When Charley returned, he was completely naked and his cock was already half hard.
Glen pointed at it and asked, "Where you playing with that?"
"No man, I was saving that for you to do." When Glen didn't respond one way or the other, Charley told him, "I gotta pee if you still want me to help."
"Yeah," Glen said, excited by the idea. "But we better go in the bathroom in case you miss."
Not only did they go in the bathroom, Glen stepped into the bathtub, not sure if Charley was really going to pee in his diaper or try to hose him down or what.
"If you want me to pee in your diaper, you gotta hold it open," Charley told him, since Glen was just standing there, waiting for something to happen.
Glen did his best, but as snug as the plastic pants fit, he wasn't able to create much of a gap. But it was enough, and Charley was able to hit the hole with most of it. He could feel himself getting hard in the diaper as the hot pee splattered around his cock and ran through his sparse pubic hair, flowing around his nuts before being absorbed by the diaper material. When they were finished and certain the layers of material would hold it all and more, Charley suggested they watch TV for a while, surprising Glen. Glen had been pretty sure, after the way that Charley had used the first possible excuse to get naked, that he might want to go to bed early.
What Glen didn't stop to consider was that Charley had been fantasizing about a night such as this too and had a plan of his own. Almost as soon as they were back on the couch, Charley suggested to Glen, "Why don't you lay your head in my lap like a real baby."
Glen could see that Charley had pushed his cock down between his thighs. But as soon as Glen had his head in Charley's lap and had gotten comfortable watching TV sideways, Charley moved his legs apart, allowing his cock to come up against the side of Glen's face, where it rested for several minutes. When Glen pretended not to notice - which took a lot of pretending with the head of his friend's cock poking him in the eye - Charley softly hinted, "I think Dick wants to say hello."
"Hello Dick," Glen said, chuckling.
"Aren't you going to shake Dick's hand?"
"I don't think Dick has a hand."
"Shake it anyway you dumb-ass."
Still softly laughing, Glen reached beneath his head to grasp Dick and shook it, like he was shaking hands. Then he continued to hold Charley's dick and began to slowly stroke it.
"I think Dick wants to give you a hello kiss."
"He's already been kissing me on the cheek."
"It'd be better if he could kiss you on the lips."
Glen giggled and told him, "I'm afraid Dick will spit at me if I do that."
"Yeah, for sure. But you liked the way he spit at you when we were down at the pond."
It was the first time Charley had mentioned that day. But what he said was true and Glen didn't deny it. Glen had enjoyed it and his only regret was that Charley had finished the job himself. He'd vowed to himself do that the next time he had the chance and fantasized about it every time he jacked off, stroking his cock the same way he'd seen Charley do his, as if practicing for when he had Charley's in his hand.
In the last few months, Glen's jacking off had also changed in quantity and location. Prior to that incident at the pond, Glen had masturbated once or twice a week in bed. Now it was almost every night and his favorite location had become the bathtub. He would lay in the tub, point his cock in the air, pee all over himself imagining it was Charley peeing on him, and then beat his meat, wishing it was Charley's in his hand instead of his own. But as soon as the last spasm died, guilt would set in and as quickly as possible, he'd try to wash off the piss and cum he'd just enjoyed and clear his mind of thoughts of Charley.
So as much as part of him wanted to, Glen was afraid to make Charley cum with his cock so close to his face. He had an urge that he was fighting with every ounce of willpower he could muster. Almost always, when thinking about Charley's cock, Glen would eventually envision putting that beautiful, enticing, shaft in his mouth and suckling on it like little Tony did on a pacifier. When that happened, just as soon as Glen's fantasy included sucking on Charley's cock until he received a mouthful of cum, Glen would try to erase the vision from his mind. That, he knew from conversations with his peers at school, was queer stuff. According to the consensus of opinion among his classmates, only a queer would let another guy cum in his mouth. And, according to those self proclaimed experts, there was no lower form of life than queers.
But that also left a lot of gray area, things that may or may not qualify as being queer stuff. If you went by the strict definition, based on what they'd heard so far, it was the cum and where it went that determined if something was queer or not. For instance, what they'd done at the pond was probably very close to being queer stuff, since both boys had cum on each other. But, neither had directly caused the other to cum. Sure, they'd fondled each other and that was probably getting real close - close enough that they weren't about to tell their other friends about it. But there was a chance that the only thing they might have done wrong was stand too near to each other.
What made the whole thing so incredibly difficult was that there was no one that either boy could turn to, explain the entire situation, and ask for advice. In fact, since neither had revealed to the other how they felt, it was difficult for them to even speak to each other about it. That added to the problem.
While he considered all the consequences, Glen continued to fondle his friend's erection. Charley wanted him to kiss it and Glen wanted to too. The clear, slick pre-cum was beginning to drool from the pee slit and Glen wanted to taste it to compare it to his own. He was sure Charley would like that too. Glen reasoned that pre-cum wasn't exactly the same as regular cum so maybe it wouldn't hurt to just take a little taste. He twisted his head, curled his tongue, and licked from the underside of Charley's cock up past the piss slit, gathering what precum was available and tasting it as best he could. He wasn't sure if the tingling sensation in his mouth was from the precum or excitement. It almost felt as if his whole body had tingled for a moment when his tongue had touched Charley's cock head and the sensation in his damp diaper was like someone had used the diaper pins as electrodes, running a small current through the wet material.
Charley was rocking his hips, thrusting up with his cock and wanting more. The object of all of Glen's fantasies was right there, just an inch or two from his face and Glen wanted more too. But the nagging questions wouldn't go away. Glen was pretty sure, as excited as Charley appeared to be, that he wouldn't get an honest answer, but at least it might allay his concerns. So he asked, "Do you think what we're doing will make us queer?"
What Glen had never considered was that Charley was every bit as concerned about what they were doing as he was. Charley had fantasies of his own that he couldn't or wouldn't admit. He was sure Glen wanted his cock and if he got naked, would eventually help himself to it. That would make Glen the aggressor and he could absolve himself of guilt. But Glen had been moving too slowly and cautiously and he'd had to make some suggestions, coaxing Glen along, which had definitely blurred those lines. Now Glen wanted him to take responsibility for anything that happened by telling him it was okay to continue. He wanted Glen to continue. He wanted to change Glen's diaper when it got wet and use that as an excuse to play with Glen's cock and balls. He wanted to do the same things he suspected that Glen did, but he couldn't force himself to lie.
He remembered what their Sunday school teacher had said to the group of young adolescents about alcohol. "Not every person that drinks is an alcoholic," she'd told them, "But every alcoholic has taken a drink. The best thing is to never take that first drink and then you don't have to worry."
Instinctively, Charley knew that kids their age experimented with just about everything and that included alcohol and sex. But just like Glen, he had no idea where the boundaries were. How much experimenting they were allowed before they crossed over that border wasn't defined anywhere that he could find. Reluctantly, he told Glen, "Well shit. If you're worried about it, I'll do it myself."
Then he pushed Glen into an upright position next to him and began to jack his cock with the same incredible speed that Glen had witnessed before.
Glen watched, saddened by the turn of events, and rubbed himself through the plastic pants and diaper as he watched, then began to squeeze and stroke himself with the wet material just like he'd done that day he and Charley had combined to wet his pants. When Glen saw the ribbons of cum arch up and out of Charley's cock, Glen shot several creamy ribbons of his own in his wet diaper.
That was as close as they came to sex that weekend. Glen wore his wet diaper to bed, hiding it under the covers so his parents wouldn't notice if they checked on him when they got home. At some point in the middle of the night, Charley woke to find Glen playing with his cock and while he willed him to do more, pretending to still be asleep so Glen would continue, after a few minutes Glen quit and went back to sleep.
By then, it was summer and the boys were out for most of three months with no plans at all. Glen's dad got orders for Korea for an unaccompanied tour and had been assured he'd be reassigned to his present position when he returned. The boys would be starting high school soon and that meant Glen might actually be able to finish school in the same district for a change. For most of his fellow students, Hawking was the second school they'd attended, starting with the first grade. For Glen, it was his fifth.
The good thing that had come of that evening they come so close was that they began to talk about it. Glen was surprised to learn that Charley had similar desires and corresponding fears. Then Charley's little sister had gone off to camp for a week and Glen was invited to take her empty seat at the dinner table. A fortuitous remark by Charley's dad gave the boys new hope.
Charley's mom had remarked about the neighbor behind them having several cats and Charley's dad had remarked that fairies all loved cats.
"He's hardly a fairy," Charley's mom had countered. "He has a wife and two kids."
"Well then maybe he's one of those guys that plays on both sides of the fence. I swear I saw him holding hands with some guy in their backyard one day and when they saw me, they ran inside. We got a guy like that at the Post Office. Remember? I know I told you about him."
"This is hardly a conversation for the diner table, much less in front of the boys."
The boys were sitting quietly, exchanging furtive glances, and hoping the conversation would continue as this was something they desperately needed to know about. Fortunately for them, Charley's dad had a few beers after he'd finished mowing the lawn and wanted to get in the last word.
"Aw hell Corrine, the boys are gonna be old enough to date here before long. 'Bout time for them to decide if they want to date girls or each other or both or what."
"John David! That's ENOUGH!" Charley's mom said in a way that everyone knew meant the conversation was over. Anytime Charley's mother used a persons first and middle name, the ice was getting mighty thin.
As soon as the boys were alone, Glen asked, "Who was your dad talking about?"
"Mr. Miller. He lives behind us and my dad is always saying he's queer."
"Is he?
"How the shit am I supposed to know?"
"What's 'both sides of the fence' mean?"
"Some guys must like girls and guys too I suppose."
"So if a guy still likes girls too, it's okay for him to like doing things with guys?"
"I suppose. I'm no expert."
That was the end of that conversation for the time being. But it sure gave them something to think about. Coincidently, within a week, both boys had picked a girl from among their classmates and declared their undying adoration for the lucky young lady and their intention of pursuing her when school resumed.
"Gretchen Ferguson is a fox!" Glen told his buddy. "She's already got tits bigger than my mom."
"Yolanda is prettier," Charley said of his 'true love'. "She's gonna be a super fox. Maybe a model or movie star or something."
The boys were at the stock pond to go skinny-dipping. Ignoring the fact that the pond was almost dry from lack of rain, they'd taken off all their clothes anyway. Any excuse to get naked together made sense to them.
"Just thinking about Gretchen makes my dick hard," Glen said, explaining his erection.
"Aw shucks," Charley teased. "I was hoping it was because you were excited to see Mr. Dick again."
"Oh. Hello Mr. Dick," Glen said, going along with the joke. Then he reached out and shook it. Maybe he held it a little longer than if he'd just been shaking hands, but eventually he let go.
"I need to pee," Charley told him. "Want to have a contest?"
Glen nodded and moved next to Charley, aiming out toward the flat muddy edges of the water hole. Just as they were about to begin, Glen said softly, "Too bad I don't have on a diaper. I really don't need to go and you could wet it for me." He'd gotten excited holding Charley's prick and wanted more that just a pissing contest.
Charley was picking up the vibrations of desire in his friend. He turned toward Glen and used his free hand to turn Glen toward him. "Get down on your knees and close your eyes and pretend you're wearing a diaper and I'll give it a good soaking."
Excitedly, Glen did as told, kneeling so close to Charley that Charley's prick was just under his chin. Then he pushed his fingertips together, just under his dick, creating a sort of urinal down at his crotch for Charley to aim at.
Charley had been hoping that Glen would use his hands to hold and aim his prick and when he didn't, Charley let fly without aiming. The first burst hit Glen in the upper chest and then Charley used one hand to push down and splatter some of the hot pee in Glen's hands and on Glen's prick.
For Glen, the months of temptation had reached the breaking point. He was done with tasting his own pee and fantasizing. Before Charley could stop him, or he could stop himself, he opened his mouth and took as much of Charley's cock into it as he could. Charley continued to pee and had no intention of stopping his horny young friend. In fact, he pulled away the hand that he'd been using to aim is dick, allowing Glen access to all he wanted.
Glen locked his lips around the semi-soft shaft and sucked, much as if he were sipping iced tea through a straw. Charley's 'straw' had pressure behind it and the suction wasn't necessary, but it helped Glen to swallow. When the flow dropped off to a dribble and then stopped, Glen didn't. Nor did he open his eyes. He was definitely on the other side of the fence now and couldn't bring himself to look his friend in the eye. He wondered, as he sucked on Charley's cock, if could trust Charley not to say anything. If word of this got out, he'd never be able to look anyone in the face again.
But that was a problem to be dealt with in the future. Glen was only concerned about the now and right now all he cared about was sucking on the cock in his mouth and making it cum. He'd finally crossed that fence and had every intention of enjoying every minute of his time in this forbidden pasture. His only concern was that Charley might try to pull away and finish himself when he got close. Glen was the happiest little cocksucker in the world when Charley didn't even try, letting Glen have every drop of his jism.
Glen never gave a thought to spitting it out. He swallowed it all, just as he had the pee that had proceeded it and continued sucking. When Charley told him, "Don't move," it never occurred to Glen that it was because Charley's cock had become super-sensitive. He thought Charley meant for Glen to stay in that position with Charley's cock in his mouth. That was fine with Glen. He was a little apprehensive about facing his friend at the moment anyway. Among their friends at school, the most despised of all human forms was the cocksucker and Glen was now one of those reviled individuals. He'd sucked a cock. He'd enjoyed sucking that cock. He'd relished the taste of the cum that had been shot in his mouth. And he wanted to do it all again. He was a cocksucker. So he was really surprised when Charley pulled him to his feet and gave him a hug and a smile.
"Man, you were great!" Charley told him. "I know blowjobs are supposed to be good, but that was fantastic!"
Glen began to relax a little, thinking that if Charley had enjoyed it that much, he was bound to want to do it again. And if he wanted it to happen again, he wouldn't dare say anything to anyone because then he'd have to stop hanging around Glen. With those thoughts in mind, Glen began to feel a sense of pride in his first ever blowjob. He'd really had no idea what he was doing or how to do it, but the proof that he'd done it and done it right was the lingering aftertaste of cum in his mouth. Yet he was totally unprepared for what happened next.
"I want to try it," Charley said to Glen and sank to his knees in front of the smaller boy so quickly he never saw the look of shock on Glen's face.
Glen's mind was a jumble of thoughts that were pushed aside in seconds after Charley's lips were locked around his cock. The one thought that remained, as he quickly approached his climax, was why, if a blowjob felt this incredibly good, was a cocksucker that provided this awesome pleasure so despised. That didn't make sense.
When they talked about it later, they discovered that the biggest fear that had been holding them back was loosing their friendship. They had been concerned that while the person receiving the blowjob might love it at that moment, after the pleasure had passed, they would hate the cocksucker for being a cocksucker. That might happen with some, but neither Glen nor Charley had to worry about it. Their friendship became closer and continued through high school and eventually, beyond.
They'd reunited at a high school reunion and were together to this day.
It was a couple of days later that Chuck sat down to read the first draft of Glen's contest entry.
"A little long don't you think?" was Chuck's first comment, as he flipped through the completely used legal pad. It might have been longer if the pad had been thicker.
"It won't be that bad if I type it out," Glen told him. "Just read what you've got in your hand and let me know what you think." Glen could type as well as anyone, but had chosen to handwrite the story so that he didn't tie up Chuck's computer. For that matter, he knew how to use most of the programs on the computer, but he just didn't like the damn things. He thought about how he'd developed his aversion while Chuck read the story.
He'd joined the Army right out of high school and one of his dad's old friends had probably saved his life by steering him away from the Infantry and sending him to school to become a company clerk - the Army's version of a secretary. Then another connection had gotten him into the Quartermaster Corps and other than having to endure an occasional rocket attack on his last tour, Glen had spent three tours in Vietnam without receiving a scratch. Two of his friends from basic training, that had gone into the infantry like Glen had wanted to do, now had their names on the Wall in Washington.
For most of his twenty plus years in the service, Glen had filled out countless forms on an old fashioned manual typewriter. The Army's way of thinking was that you might not have electricity, but you still needed to requisition toilet paper and such. Just before Glen retired, the Army had been shifting more toward computerizing all levels of the supply channels and he'd seen some of the most ungodly mistakes as a result. So while he could use a computer, he was wary of them.
Chuck had also gone into uniform - a couple of them. After stretching out two years of junior college into three, his deferment ran out. He married a girl and got her pregnant but it was too late. Uncle Sam called his number. When his two years were up, he'd returned home, bounced between a few jobs, then taken the Postal exam and like Glen, had followed in his father's footsteps. While Glen was bouncing back and forth between assignments in the States and tours overseas, Chuck was bouncing around their old neighborhood on a daily basis with a bag of letters on his hip.
"You didn't mention that your mom caught us the night we were babysitters for your brother," Chuck said, looking up from his reading. "And that she let you wear diapers while your dad was in Korea."
"No, I didn't. And I didn't tell about the coach catching you and me and Billy Warren sucking off your football friends in the shower. The point I was trying to make was that because we were so young and inexperienced, we had a lot of issues to deal with trying to establish a relationship that was viewed as totally wrong."
"Yeah, but you mentioned all this other stuff about peeing together and diapers."
"I wanted everyone to realize that was something that has been the core of our relationship. I wear diapers all the time and you wear them sometimes too. And we both enjoy each other's piss. All that started back when we first got to know each other."
"Maybe you're right. Look, how about if I put it in the computer for you and then I'll print you a copy. If you like the way it looks, we can email your entry. That's how the newsletter said they preferred to receive entries."
Glen smiled at Chuck and asked, "And what am I supposed to be doing while you're putting my story in the computer?"
Chuck, naked as usual, crooked his finger at his diapered friend, at the same time spreading his legs. "I'm sure you can find something to keep you busy," he answered with a wicked grin, pointing at the stiff prick in his lap.
Glen grinned in agreement, glad that he'd made the story so long.
Comments appreciated: amber_fountaine@hotmail.com