Old Story



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Posted by Davy on November 15, 2007 at 15:40 [207.104.49.149]

I can't remember where I got this from, but I think we need some stories on here.

I don't remember when I stopped wetting by accident and started wetting on purpose. I went through stages of preferring nappies to my cotton pants. Then one night I told my mom I did not want a nappy, she was delighted, I think she thought I was trying to make an effort to stay dry at night. A few weeks later I was back in nappies. Even today, I go through stages of loving the security, comfort and warmth of a nice soft nappy between my legs and the feel of the soft plastic pants all puffy and padded over my bum. I love wetting nappies too, on my front or my back.
I love wetting on my front, as it feels more babyish and comfortable, especially if I bury my face in the pillow and pretend that I am fast asleep. Then slowly I can feel the tingle of the first few drops starting, warming the skin around my most sensitive areas, then getting stronger. Since I am 'asleep', I can make no effort to stop! Then the flow really starts, and if I'm not wearing a nappy, the wetness creeps up my tummy and sometimes reaches my breasts. I have a special reason for preferring my back however, and it involves a very personal secret.
That reason is that I like to play a very personal wet game with myself. I like to use my finger, usually on the outside of my panties. I push my clitoris part down over the place where the pee comes out and try to stop the flow. The flow sort of stimulates my clitoris and results in uncontrollable periods of total ecstacy. Even after I've finished wetting my bed, I rub my special place till I am too exhausted to continue, then I fall asleep. I always fall asleep at this stage. My perfect answer to insomnia.
There are many nights when I feel naughty or just lazy or whatever and I just do it through my plain cotton panties and my shorty pyjamas. I have bought some with little birds and clouds on them just like I had when I was younger - I remember those well. Mornings are best, sometimes I wake up bursting and still an hour to go before I have to get up. I lie on my back, with my legs apart, just a little, I lift the duvet over my head and then when I start wetting I push till my face goes red and pee as hard as I can. I especially like to do it hard enough to hear the hissing sound.
There has only ever been one guy who has shared my interest, or at least made an attempt to. I love being put in my nappy, and I loved being pampered and pandered. There were rare occasions when Tony put my nappy on for me, and I especially loved the rugged roughness of his strong hands. We played a game, he would pretend to forget how to fold it and I would have to show him, he would have to be told to put the powder on first and I would laugh and he would play the fool. Then when it was all over he would give me a big hug, I was in heaven. Nappy changes are very intimate times between lovers when the situation is right.
There was another game I played with Tony which was a lead up to some wonderful love making. He would wake me up in the morning, and ask me if I was wet. If I said 'no' he would say 'liar! Prove it!' and the tussle would begin with Anthony trying to feel under my nappy. Of course if I answered his question with 'yes I am wet', he would say, 'Liar! Prove it!' etc. There was a third choice. I would pull the blankets around my neck and the conversation would go like this, ME ' I'm not telling...it's a secret' HIM ' Yes you're wet. I can tell!' ME ' No I'm not !' HIM 'Liar, prove it!' These games were wonderful, and I hope to find someone else to play them with.
It's hard to know exactly why I am this way. The connection with my childhood wetting is obvious, but there was one very special conversation with my mother which lead me to believe that what I was doing was OK.
I have already explained that my accidental bedwetting became more deliberate over the years, but as I got older I became more discrete. I even stopped wetting my bed for a few years, except for rare occasions and the waterproof sheet on my bed was removed. Then one day I came home and my mother said she wanted to talk to me in my room. She had my bed stripped and was attempting to dry a large wet circle on my mattress. She asked me why I had started wetting my bed and when I just shrugged, she told me that it was happening far to often. Then she did something that I have never forgotten.
She sat down on the corner of the bed, took my hand and in a very serious tone, asked me if I would be more comfortable with a waterproof mattress protector. I was confused and before I could reply, she told me that she would make up my bed with a rubber sheet, but if I wet at night then I would have to put the wet linen in the hamper and remake the bed myself. Then as she got up to walk out, she turned and said, 'Try not to do it too often, darling, the extra washing is quite a burden'.
What she said that day had a profound affect on me. I stood alone in my room after she had left and thought deeply about what she had just said, or rather what she had implied. She had, in effect, given me permission to wet my bed. There were conditions, of course, but it was permission none the less. It was clear that she knew that my wetting was deliberate. The words 'Try not to do it too often' implied that she was aware that I was able to control the frequency, which also implied that I could stop altogether, if I desired. We did not discuss the subject again, but I feel now that the 'permission' I was granted then is partly what allows me still to do it today.
Alison


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