Tweet
After discussing my idea, we decided to go out for lunch. We’d spent the morning kissing and cuddling and talking, and had skipped breakfast. Even after the previous night’s feast we were pretty hungry. Coincidentally, since there was no new food to stimulate her system, Pratima’s diaper remained clean for a bit longer than usual. A situation that would soon change.
We walked to a nearby sub shop. Without her concealing sari, her waddling gait was somewhat more obvious, as was her diaper bulge. While waiting for a light to change, I gave her a quick, soft pat on her bottom, inducing a giggle and an equally quick peck on the lips from her.
At the restaurant Pratima insisted on treating me. I began to order a half cheese-steak sub with fries and a soda, and she scolded me.
“Danny, you may have as much as you would like. If you want a large sandwich, please ask for one.”
No point in arguing with the doctor, so I changed my order to a full sandwich and double fries. Pratima got a typically large meal that included her own full-size cheeseburger sub, AND a cold-cut sub, AND a basket of fries smothered in onions and gravy. She also asked for a container of hot water for her tea, which she brought with her. I ended up with about a third of the cold-cut, not because she was full - Pratima Patel was almost never full - but because I commented on how good it looked. She then ordered me a half cold-cut of my own, and I re-upped on fries.
After more than an hour of eating and small talk (and a happy, generously-tipped waiter and cashier) we sort of staggered back to her place (she managed to both waddle AND stagger). All that food was making us sleepy. Up the stairs to the bedroom, where we lay down for another round of cuddling, me again being careful not to arouse her posterior erogenous zone. Before long, her dormant intestines awoke, even as she began to doze off, and Pratima started to mess. I dropped off a few minutes later.
It was after three p.m. when Pratima woke me up; she was running her fingers lightly over my chest.
“Danny…”
“Yes, baby?”
“It is time for me to change my undergarment. Would you like to help me?”
I reached around and patted the seat of Pratima’s pants. The diaper underneath did indeed feel rather full.
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.” But, of course, Pratima sat up on the edge of the bed to invite a little more cuddling, which I obliged. Ten minutes later we were in the bathroom again, repeating the diaper-changing ritual from earlier, with somewhat less poop. This time, everything stayed within the Molicare, and after she was cleaned up she put the same terry pants back on over the new diaper.
We spent the rest of the afternoon and the early evening on a tour of Pratima’s massive townhouse, with its rooms filled with elaborate decorations and artifacts, many of which had fascinating stories associated with them. The doctor delivered her narratives with enthusiasm, pleased to have someone with which to share this history - and her history. She told me of her childhood in Patna, India, with her parents and many brothers and sisters. She told of her travels around the world, during which she collected the tchotchkes that filled her home. I realized that her passion for collecting filled a great hole in her life, a hole caused by her inability to find a partner. But now, she had a lover - one who was hell-bent on filling a certain other “hole” in Pratima’s life.
During the tour she paused a few times to use her diaper. I noticed that along with her usual gingery aroma, there was another, more pungent smell. All the fried onions she’d had with her lunch were starting to come through.
Another thing I noticed that in all those rooms, there had been no TV sets. Not in her living room, or even her bedroom. The only screen I’d seen was a small portable in Leisha’s kitchen. There was also no evidence of a sound system or music collection - not even a piano. Finally, no computers. Being a tech geek, I wondered how Dr. Patel entertained herself at home.
On the third floor, directly above the bathroom, was a room of similar size, with large windows facing west and north. Despite its position, I just knew that no smells from the toilet would find their way up here.
“This would be a cool room for my ‘office,’” I told her.
“Office?”
“In my living room I have two computers.” Pratima’s eyes widened noticeably at that announcement. “I also have my home entertainment system, and lots of music and videos. My books are in there, too. It’s really cramped, though. I was imagining what it would be like if my things were in this room.”
She smiled. “Very soon, you will know what it would be like, Danny.”
“Um…yeah.”
“I will show you the basement at another time. Right now I would like to have some tea and a small snack. Please join me in the kitchen.” And down we went, two tall stories, to Leisha’s realm, where Pratima filled two mugs with water and put them in the microwave. In the fridge she found a box of Entenmann’s apple puffs, which happen to be one of my favorite noshes. I swore that Pratima was not only a psychologist, but also a telepath.
As we drank and ate (again!), she asked me why I had two computers. “Well,” I told her, “one is mainly for surfing the internet, and the other is used for processing sound and video.”
“Processing…?” She seemed confused.
“I can make my own CDs and DVD video discs on the second computer. Also, I have a large collection of LP records, which I’m copying onto CDs. The software programs to do that are on the second PC.”
“’PC’?” It was obvious that Pratima Patel was not very tech-lterate.
“Personal computer. The type of computer people have in their homes and many offices.”
She thought for a few moments, and then said, “I am intimidated by computers. We have them at the hospital, but my staff is tasked with working on them. I do not have one in my office.”
“Now, you have a boyfriend who can help you learn to use one. If you want. It’s not very hard, once you get past your initial fear.”
Pratima smiled and squeezed my hand. “Yes, I want that. Quite much. And your ‘home entertainment system‘?”
“TV, VCR, disc player, and a sound system that can surround you with sounds from a movie. It can also play records and other music.”
“It must be interesting. You must show it to me soon.”
“Don’t you have a TV?”
“There is one inside the armoire in my bedroom.” I’d seen the huge cabinet earlier, but figured it just had more clothes or other stuff.
Soon, we’d finished out tea and “crumpets,” each of us killing three of the apple puffs. Then back to the living-room settee for more of you-know-what…
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sunday morning. The sky beyond the windows was overcast; there was a late spring chill in the air.
We’d gone to bed around 10.30 the night before, wanting plenty of rest. I’d expected to be too anxious and excited to go right to sleep, but the calming atmosphere of Pratima’s bedroom helped me to drop off quickly (not to mention the feeling of her beside me). Now, it was a little before seven, and I was roused gently by Pratima running her fingers through my hair.
“Danny…”
“Yes, baby…” I said groggily.
“It is now morning, my love.” She kissed my forehead lightly several times.
“Yeah, it is. Gonna be a special morning, if you still want it to be.”
“I want it to be more special than anything else in my life.” Pratima kissed me on my lips. “We should both be well-rested and ready for our moment.”
“I certainly am,” I said, stroking her thick hair. She pulled back the sheet to inspect my mid-section, smiling at what she saw. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“First, my morning cleansing.” Pratima sat up, then stood beside the bed. I put my hand gently on the seat of her diaper as bowel incontinence and gravity did their work, causing the contents of her intestines to flow out of her. We’d skipped breakfast the day before, had a heavy lunch, and a light snack for dinner. Lunch had run through her system quickly, and was mostly gone by the time of her evening change. I could still feel a fair amount of mush going into her Molicare. Much of what she pooped now was the apple puffs, which added a fruity overlay to her usual ginger aroma. As before, she squatted slightly and pushed out the last of it, then sat down next to me for a little cuddling. Again, she wiggled as her swaddled prat hit the mattress.
After ten minutes we headed for the bathroom. Pratima waited as I cleaned myself first - by then I was starting to get the hang of her advanced shower heads. Pratima then put gloves on my hand and let me remove her nighttime diaper cover and her moderately-soiled Molicare. There was enough of a clean spot near the rear waist band to wipe off some of the mess that was smeared on her bottom, which elicited a giggle. A couple wads of paper towels, applied lovingly and carefully, finished that part of the process. We considered this cleanup part of the foreplay leading to the main event.
As Pratima showered, I checked out the items that she had assembled moments earlier. There was a fresh Molicare diaper, this one with a hole cut out of the area that normally covered her vagina; a Poise incontinence pad; and another Japanese outer garment. My idea, discussed the day before, was to have Pratima wear the “prepared” diaper while we were making love. After her major morning BM there was usually a “safe period” of an hour or so where she didn’t have to mess. Sometimes, however, there was a “surprise” - an unexpected poop incident. It would be pretty gruesome if a “surprise” happened while we were both naked in bed, therefore the “prepared” diaper. The hole, of course, was to allow me access to her womanhood. When we were done, the thick Poise pad would be placed over the hole, and all would be covered with the snug outer pants. When I suggested this, Pratima’s entire face had brightened. Now was our chance to try my theory.
Before long, Pratima emerged from the shower, and I again anointed her beautiful body with scented oil. Different from yesterday, this one smelled a bit like cherries, which made me think even more of the cherry I was apparently about to pop. I finished by kissing her plump little stomach - a different kind of “Delhi belly.” Over to the toilet she went for her morning pee, which seemed to take forever and almost sounded like a drainpipe after a thunderstorm. Finally, as I sat on the toilet lid, she stood before me as I put the “prepared” Molicare onto her. Trading places, I allowed her to pull a condom over my erect member. I thought she did that quite well, despite the fact that she was a virgin.
“And now, Danny Kerr, the moment has arrived,” said Pratima, taking my hand and leading me to her bedroom. I carried the Poise pad and the Japanese diaper in my free hand, while she bore a roll of paper towels in hers. At the bed, she pulled back the covers and placed a large cloth towel in the center - extra security, just in case - while I put the other items on the foot.
We laid down and started to kiss and cuddle. I fondled Pratima, staying away from her bottom for now. Pratima, having been assertive a few days earlier, had become totally submissive to me - anywhere I touched or kissed her, any way I held her, was okay with her. She was, as the cliché goes, like putty in my hands. After five minutes or so, I asked if she was ready for us to couple; she merely nodded.
Pratima rolled onto her back, and I mounted her, she guiding me into herself. Mindful of her virginity, I pressed gently, expecting some resistance, but there was none. Pratima moaned softly as I entered her. We settled into a slow rhythm, kissing between strokes, my hands stroking her hair and upper back.
Unlike Pratima, I wasn’t a virgin, but my experiences were limited. But this was completely different that anything I’d had before: the beautiful, meek Indian woman, her body scented with cherry, a diaper around her waist (that might become messy at any moment), with whom I was making love. The stuff of hundreds of dreams had become a reality. It wasn’t just great - it was perfect.
We may both have been horny as hell, but we weren’t in a hurry. Pratima and I maintained the slow cadence for a good ten minutes, pushing and kissing. At last, I felt the stirrings of an impending climax, so I rolled her onto her side and began to fondle the seat of her diaper. Our pace quickened, she moaning louder and more often, me joining her. I began to feel lightheaded - was I getting high from getting off? That had never happened before, and I wondered if my girl was feeling the same.
Another few minutes passed, our speed increasing, and I knew we were about to explode, and so did she. Ever the gentleman, I wanted her to precede me. So I slipped my hand under the waistband of her Molicare and caressed her soft, ample butt. That did it: within a minute, Pratima let out a long, loud moan, almost a howl, and she began to buck against me. Her sudden movements brought us both into an awesome finish - the very definition of “climax.” Pratima’s orgasm went on a bit longer than mine, perhaps because it was her first. Eventually she calmed down, and we broke apart.
As she lay on her back I grabbed some paper towels to wipe off my sheathed wiener, which Pratima had left in quite a juicy state. Turning back to her, I saw that she’d started to cry silently, so I held and kissed her for a moment. I then rose to head to the bathroom, but she grabbed my arm and held it, still crying.
“I gotta get rid of this, baby, “ I said, pointing at the rubber on my groin. “I’ll be back in two minutes. Tops.” (I also had to pee, but she didn’t need to know that.) Pratima managed a weak smile and nodded.
In the bathroom, I tossed the rubber into the diaper pail, took my leak, and reflected on the events of the past several days: how I progressed from a hopelessly-unattached nobody to being the lover of a wealthy, beautiful, incontinent woman. Things were looking very good, indeed.
When I got back, Pratima lay on the bed, her eyes still moist. I grabbed the Japanese diaper cover and the pad and gently put them onto her, she raising her legs and hips as I swaddled her like a baby. Emotionally, she was almost as helpless as a baby…and just as sweet. I crawled into bed with my woman, holding and kissing her until she fell asleep in my arms. Soon I began to doze as well.
Some time later, I heard the beeping of the alarm system keypad and realized that Leisha, the cook, was letting herself in…what sort of magnificent Sunday dinner was in store for Pratima and I? We both woke up around 11 am, and of course cuddled a bit more before getting dressed.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The rest of that day was rather uneventful: more cuddling, more chatting, and of course a splendid Sunday dinner courtesy of Leisha. The main course was grilled chicken smothered in Indian curry sauce - my first taste of my host’s native cuisine. There was a lot of it, too, along with whipped potatoes, cabbage, rolls, and the usual tea, plus a huge bowl of ice cream for dessert. Both of us pigged out on the repast. That sauce was very spicy, though (I would learn) not quite as hot as Leisha usually made it. After the meal we staggered back upstairs for more lovin’ in the big chair.
Along with being quite spicy and tasty, curry can do a number on one’s digestive system. When that stuff hit Pratima’s empty stomach, the result about an hour later was an eruption of mushy poop. She was sitting on my lap at the time.
“Ooohhh,” she said, giggling and blushing. “That did not take much time….and you are becoming very aroused again.” Indeed, the sensation of a woman crapping herself on my lap was making me crazy.
“Yeah,” I said, and kissed her forehead. I then realized that she was still wearing the “prepared” diaper from that morning, which had managed to stay clean. “Think you should change?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation, and stood. And it was back again to the bathroom, Pratima waddling and stopping once to release another brief curry torrent. Once there, she first filled the shower bucket with water, then removed her outer clothes and stepped into the shower, and I unsnapped the Japanese cover. Some of the mush had seeped through the hole in the Molicare and onto the Poise pad. Most of it had been forced up the back, a result of it happening while she was on my lap. Pratima positioned her bottom over the bucket as I untaped the Molicare; almost as soon as it was clear another wave of mush splatted into the bucket. Her backside was too messy for a wipe-off, so I just let her clean up with her shower’s powerful jets.
She finished in ten minutes, and I could see through the stall’s frosted glass that she squatted over the bucket at least one more time. As she dried herself she directed me to get a fresh diaper from a particular shelf. I noted that it was bulkier than the Molicares she usually wore.
“This evening, there will be very much,” she told me. Then came the ritual of anointing her buns and thighs, this time with a thick moisture-barrier cream. I taped on the super-thick diaper, she placing a Poise pad in the crotch to channel her mess away from other places. On went a fresh diaper cover; she made another short curry gush as I was snapping it up. I noted that she didn’t smell as gingery as usual, more like spicy poop. Dressed again, she and I returned to the big chair, where she rested her head on my shoulder.
All good things must eventually end. So, at around five-thirty, I took Pratima’s head into my hands. “Baby, it has been an absolutely wonderful weekend, but I’m afraid I’ll have to go home now.”
As expected, her eyes began to water and her lower lip quivered. I knew she’d start blubbering, and also figured it would take about half an hour to get her calmed down - just in time for my intended departure at six. And so came one last session of making out before I took my leave.
“Pratima…next week is Memorial Day. Neither of us have to work that Monday, right?” She nodded. “Son we’ll have three whole days, as well as Friday evening, to enjoy each other’s company. If you want to, that is.”
“I would like that very much, Danny Kerr.”
We walked down the stairs to the front door, and embraced for one last long kiss.
“I would drive you to your home,” she told me, “but my automobile is being serviced.”
“That’s okay, sweetie. Maybe I’ll see your car next week. Until then…I’ll call you when I get home.”
“Please do. Danny Kerr, this is only the beginning of what I hope will be a long and beautiful relationship. I thank you for spending this time with me, and look forward to next week.”
“Yes, baby,” I said, giving her a last peck on the forehead and a light squeeze of her diapered bottom. “I love you, Pratima Patel!”
“I love you also, Danny Kerr!”
And I left. Pratima stood in the door and watched me as I walked down the street, me turning and waving at her every few seconds, she smiling and waving back, until I turned a corner and was out of sight.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And so began the story of my romance with Doctor Pratima Patel. We talked on the phone every day, and even managed to see each other for a short while that following Tuesday. Memorial Day weekend was fantastic, to say the least: that Friday she gave me keys to her house (and the alarm code), which was damn near a proposal, and we were rarely more than a few feet from each other at any given time. By Independence Day I was moving out of my little apartment into her place, and in October I popped the question. Her answer was by then a foregone conclusion. We were married the following May, the week before Memorial Day - the anniversary of our getting together. We’re still married, and things are still incredibly groovy. Sometimes at night, I lay awake next to Pratima, her head on my shoulder as she sleeps so soundly, and think back to those first four days. Then there may be a muffled sound from under her diaper, followed closely by the familiar scent of ginger, and I realize that I am the luckiest man on Earth.
We walked to a nearby sub shop. Without her concealing sari, her waddling gait was somewhat more obvious, as was her diaper bulge. While waiting for a light to change, I gave her a quick, soft pat on her bottom, inducing a giggle and an equally quick peck on the lips from her.
At the restaurant Pratima insisted on treating me. I began to order a half cheese-steak sub with fries and a soda, and she scolded me.
“Danny, you may have as much as you would like. If you want a large sandwich, please ask for one.”
No point in arguing with the doctor, so I changed my order to a full sandwich and double fries. Pratima got a typically large meal that included her own full-size cheeseburger sub, AND a cold-cut sub, AND a basket of fries smothered in onions and gravy. She also asked for a container of hot water for her tea, which she brought with her. I ended up with about a third of the cold-cut, not because she was full - Pratima Patel was almost never full - but because I commented on how good it looked. She then ordered me a half cold-cut of my own, and I re-upped on fries.
After more than an hour of eating and small talk (and a happy, generously-tipped waiter and cashier) we sort of staggered back to her place (she managed to both waddle AND stagger). All that food was making us sleepy. Up the stairs to the bedroom, where we lay down for another round of cuddling, me again being careful not to arouse her posterior erogenous zone. Before long, her dormant intestines awoke, even as she began to doze off, and Pratima started to mess. I dropped off a few minutes later.
It was after three p.m. when Pratima woke me up; she was running her fingers lightly over my chest.
“Danny…”
“Yes, baby?”
“It is time for me to change my undergarment. Would you like to help me?”
I reached around and patted the seat of Pratima’s pants. The diaper underneath did indeed feel rather full.
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.” But, of course, Pratima sat up on the edge of the bed to invite a little more cuddling, which I obliged. Ten minutes later we were in the bathroom again, repeating the diaper-changing ritual from earlier, with somewhat less poop. This time, everything stayed within the Molicare, and after she was cleaned up she put the same terry pants back on over the new diaper.
We spent the rest of the afternoon and the early evening on a tour of Pratima’s massive townhouse, with its rooms filled with elaborate decorations and artifacts, many of which had fascinating stories associated with them. The doctor delivered her narratives with enthusiasm, pleased to have someone with which to share this history - and her history. She told me of her childhood in Patna, India, with her parents and many brothers and sisters. She told of her travels around the world, during which she collected the tchotchkes that filled her home. I realized that her passion for collecting filled a great hole in her life, a hole caused by her inability to find a partner. But now, she had a lover - one who was hell-bent on filling a certain other “hole” in Pratima’s life.
During the tour she paused a few times to use her diaper. I noticed that along with her usual gingery aroma, there was another, more pungent smell. All the fried onions she’d had with her lunch were starting to come through.
Another thing I noticed that in all those rooms, there had been no TV sets. Not in her living room, or even her bedroom. The only screen I’d seen was a small portable in Leisha’s kitchen. There was also no evidence of a sound system or music collection - not even a piano. Finally, no computers. Being a tech geek, I wondered how Dr. Patel entertained herself at home.
On the third floor, directly above the bathroom, was a room of similar size, with large windows facing west and north. Despite its position, I just knew that no smells from the toilet would find their way up here.
“This would be a cool room for my ‘office,’” I told her.
“Office?”
“In my living room I have two computers.” Pratima’s eyes widened noticeably at that announcement. “I also have my home entertainment system, and lots of music and videos. My books are in there, too. It’s really cramped, though. I was imagining what it would be like if my things were in this room.”
She smiled. “Very soon, you will know what it would be like, Danny.”
“Um…yeah.”
“I will show you the basement at another time. Right now I would like to have some tea and a small snack. Please join me in the kitchen.” And down we went, two tall stories, to Leisha’s realm, where Pratima filled two mugs with water and put them in the microwave. In the fridge she found a box of Entenmann’s apple puffs, which happen to be one of my favorite noshes. I swore that Pratima was not only a psychologist, but also a telepath.
As we drank and ate (again!), she asked me why I had two computers. “Well,” I told her, “one is mainly for surfing the internet, and the other is used for processing sound and video.”
“Processing…?” She seemed confused.
“I can make my own CDs and DVD video discs on the second computer. Also, I have a large collection of LP records, which I’m copying onto CDs. The software programs to do that are on the second PC.”
“’PC’?” It was obvious that Pratima Patel was not very tech-lterate.
“Personal computer. The type of computer people have in their homes and many offices.”
She thought for a few moments, and then said, “I am intimidated by computers. We have them at the hospital, but my staff is tasked with working on them. I do not have one in my office.”
“Now, you have a boyfriend who can help you learn to use one. If you want. It’s not very hard, once you get past your initial fear.”
Pratima smiled and squeezed my hand. “Yes, I want that. Quite much. And your ‘home entertainment system‘?”
“TV, VCR, disc player, and a sound system that can surround you with sounds from a movie. It can also play records and other music.”
“It must be interesting. You must show it to me soon.”
“Don’t you have a TV?”
“There is one inside the armoire in my bedroom.” I’d seen the huge cabinet earlier, but figured it just had more clothes or other stuff.
Soon, we’d finished out tea and “crumpets,” each of us killing three of the apple puffs. Then back to the living-room settee for more of you-know-what…
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sunday morning. The sky beyond the windows was overcast; there was a late spring chill in the air.
We’d gone to bed around 10.30 the night before, wanting plenty of rest. I’d expected to be too anxious and excited to go right to sleep, but the calming atmosphere of Pratima’s bedroom helped me to drop off quickly (not to mention the feeling of her beside me). Now, it was a little before seven, and I was roused gently by Pratima running her fingers through my hair.
“Danny…”
“Yes, baby…” I said groggily.
“It is now morning, my love.” She kissed my forehead lightly several times.
“Yeah, it is. Gonna be a special morning, if you still want it to be.”
“I want it to be more special than anything else in my life.” Pratima kissed me on my lips. “We should both be well-rested and ready for our moment.”
“I certainly am,” I said, stroking her thick hair. She pulled back the sheet to inspect my mid-section, smiling at what she saw. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“First, my morning cleansing.” Pratima sat up, then stood beside the bed. I put my hand gently on the seat of her diaper as bowel incontinence and gravity did their work, causing the contents of her intestines to flow out of her. We’d skipped breakfast the day before, had a heavy lunch, and a light snack for dinner. Lunch had run through her system quickly, and was mostly gone by the time of her evening change. I could still feel a fair amount of mush going into her Molicare. Much of what she pooped now was the apple puffs, which added a fruity overlay to her usual ginger aroma. As before, she squatted slightly and pushed out the last of it, then sat down next to me for a little cuddling. Again, she wiggled as her swaddled prat hit the mattress.
After ten minutes we headed for the bathroom. Pratima waited as I cleaned myself first - by then I was starting to get the hang of her advanced shower heads. Pratima then put gloves on my hand and let me remove her nighttime diaper cover and her moderately-soiled Molicare. There was enough of a clean spot near the rear waist band to wipe off some of the mess that was smeared on her bottom, which elicited a giggle. A couple wads of paper towels, applied lovingly and carefully, finished that part of the process. We considered this cleanup part of the foreplay leading to the main event.
As Pratima showered, I checked out the items that she had assembled moments earlier. There was a fresh Molicare diaper, this one with a hole cut out of the area that normally covered her vagina; a Poise incontinence pad; and another Japanese outer garment. My idea, discussed the day before, was to have Pratima wear the “prepared” diaper while we were making love. After her major morning BM there was usually a “safe period” of an hour or so where she didn’t have to mess. Sometimes, however, there was a “surprise” - an unexpected poop incident. It would be pretty gruesome if a “surprise” happened while we were both naked in bed, therefore the “prepared” diaper. The hole, of course, was to allow me access to her womanhood. When we were done, the thick Poise pad would be placed over the hole, and all would be covered with the snug outer pants. When I suggested this, Pratima’s entire face had brightened. Now was our chance to try my theory.
Before long, Pratima emerged from the shower, and I again anointed her beautiful body with scented oil. Different from yesterday, this one smelled a bit like cherries, which made me think even more of the cherry I was apparently about to pop. I finished by kissing her plump little stomach - a different kind of “Delhi belly.” Over to the toilet she went for her morning pee, which seemed to take forever and almost sounded like a drainpipe after a thunderstorm. Finally, as I sat on the toilet lid, she stood before me as I put the “prepared” Molicare onto her. Trading places, I allowed her to pull a condom over my erect member. I thought she did that quite well, despite the fact that she was a virgin.
“And now, Danny Kerr, the moment has arrived,” said Pratima, taking my hand and leading me to her bedroom. I carried the Poise pad and the Japanese diaper in my free hand, while she bore a roll of paper towels in hers. At the bed, she pulled back the covers and placed a large cloth towel in the center - extra security, just in case - while I put the other items on the foot.
We laid down and started to kiss and cuddle. I fondled Pratima, staying away from her bottom for now. Pratima, having been assertive a few days earlier, had become totally submissive to me - anywhere I touched or kissed her, any way I held her, was okay with her. She was, as the cliché goes, like putty in my hands. After five minutes or so, I asked if she was ready for us to couple; she merely nodded.
Pratima rolled onto her back, and I mounted her, she guiding me into herself. Mindful of her virginity, I pressed gently, expecting some resistance, but there was none. Pratima moaned softly as I entered her. We settled into a slow rhythm, kissing between strokes, my hands stroking her hair and upper back.
Unlike Pratima, I wasn’t a virgin, but my experiences were limited. But this was completely different that anything I’d had before: the beautiful, meek Indian woman, her body scented with cherry, a diaper around her waist (that might become messy at any moment), with whom I was making love. The stuff of hundreds of dreams had become a reality. It wasn’t just great - it was perfect.
We may both have been horny as hell, but we weren’t in a hurry. Pratima and I maintained the slow cadence for a good ten minutes, pushing and kissing. At last, I felt the stirrings of an impending climax, so I rolled her onto her side and began to fondle the seat of her diaper. Our pace quickened, she moaning louder and more often, me joining her. I began to feel lightheaded - was I getting high from getting off? That had never happened before, and I wondered if my girl was feeling the same.
Another few minutes passed, our speed increasing, and I knew we were about to explode, and so did she. Ever the gentleman, I wanted her to precede me. So I slipped my hand under the waistband of her Molicare and caressed her soft, ample butt. That did it: within a minute, Pratima let out a long, loud moan, almost a howl, and she began to buck against me. Her sudden movements brought us both into an awesome finish - the very definition of “climax.” Pratima’s orgasm went on a bit longer than mine, perhaps because it was her first. Eventually she calmed down, and we broke apart.
As she lay on her back I grabbed some paper towels to wipe off my sheathed wiener, which Pratima had left in quite a juicy state. Turning back to her, I saw that she’d started to cry silently, so I held and kissed her for a moment. I then rose to head to the bathroom, but she grabbed my arm and held it, still crying.
“I gotta get rid of this, baby, “ I said, pointing at the rubber on my groin. “I’ll be back in two minutes. Tops.” (I also had to pee, but she didn’t need to know that.) Pratima managed a weak smile and nodded.
In the bathroom, I tossed the rubber into the diaper pail, took my leak, and reflected on the events of the past several days: how I progressed from a hopelessly-unattached nobody to being the lover of a wealthy, beautiful, incontinent woman. Things were looking very good, indeed.
When I got back, Pratima lay on the bed, her eyes still moist. I grabbed the Japanese diaper cover and the pad and gently put them onto her, she raising her legs and hips as I swaddled her like a baby. Emotionally, she was almost as helpless as a baby…and just as sweet. I crawled into bed with my woman, holding and kissing her until she fell asleep in my arms. Soon I began to doze as well.
Some time later, I heard the beeping of the alarm system keypad and realized that Leisha, the cook, was letting herself in…what sort of magnificent Sunday dinner was in store for Pratima and I? We both woke up around 11 am, and of course cuddled a bit more before getting dressed.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The rest of that day was rather uneventful: more cuddling, more chatting, and of course a splendid Sunday dinner courtesy of Leisha. The main course was grilled chicken smothered in Indian curry sauce - my first taste of my host’s native cuisine. There was a lot of it, too, along with whipped potatoes, cabbage, rolls, and the usual tea, plus a huge bowl of ice cream for dessert. Both of us pigged out on the repast. That sauce was very spicy, though (I would learn) not quite as hot as Leisha usually made it. After the meal we staggered back upstairs for more lovin’ in the big chair.
Along with being quite spicy and tasty, curry can do a number on one’s digestive system. When that stuff hit Pratima’s empty stomach, the result about an hour later was an eruption of mushy poop. She was sitting on my lap at the time.
“Ooohhh,” she said, giggling and blushing. “That did not take much time….and you are becoming very aroused again.” Indeed, the sensation of a woman crapping herself on my lap was making me crazy.
“Yeah,” I said, and kissed her forehead. I then realized that she was still wearing the “prepared” diaper from that morning, which had managed to stay clean. “Think you should change?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation, and stood. And it was back again to the bathroom, Pratima waddling and stopping once to release another brief curry torrent. Once there, she first filled the shower bucket with water, then removed her outer clothes and stepped into the shower, and I unsnapped the Japanese cover. Some of the mush had seeped through the hole in the Molicare and onto the Poise pad. Most of it had been forced up the back, a result of it happening while she was on my lap. Pratima positioned her bottom over the bucket as I untaped the Molicare; almost as soon as it was clear another wave of mush splatted into the bucket. Her backside was too messy for a wipe-off, so I just let her clean up with her shower’s powerful jets.
She finished in ten minutes, and I could see through the stall’s frosted glass that she squatted over the bucket at least one more time. As she dried herself she directed me to get a fresh diaper from a particular shelf. I noted that it was bulkier than the Molicares she usually wore.
“This evening, there will be very much,” she told me. Then came the ritual of anointing her buns and thighs, this time with a thick moisture-barrier cream. I taped on the super-thick diaper, she placing a Poise pad in the crotch to channel her mess away from other places. On went a fresh diaper cover; she made another short curry gush as I was snapping it up. I noted that she didn’t smell as gingery as usual, more like spicy poop. Dressed again, she and I returned to the big chair, where she rested her head on my shoulder.
All good things must eventually end. So, at around five-thirty, I took Pratima’s head into my hands. “Baby, it has been an absolutely wonderful weekend, but I’m afraid I’ll have to go home now.”
As expected, her eyes began to water and her lower lip quivered. I knew she’d start blubbering, and also figured it would take about half an hour to get her calmed down - just in time for my intended departure at six. And so came one last session of making out before I took my leave.
“Pratima…next week is Memorial Day. Neither of us have to work that Monday, right?” She nodded. “Son we’ll have three whole days, as well as Friday evening, to enjoy each other’s company. If you want to, that is.”
“I would like that very much, Danny Kerr.”
We walked down the stairs to the front door, and embraced for one last long kiss.
“I would drive you to your home,” she told me, “but my automobile is being serviced.”
“That’s okay, sweetie. Maybe I’ll see your car next week. Until then…I’ll call you when I get home.”
“Please do. Danny Kerr, this is only the beginning of what I hope will be a long and beautiful relationship. I thank you for spending this time with me, and look forward to next week.”
“Yes, baby,” I said, giving her a last peck on the forehead and a light squeeze of her diapered bottom. “I love you, Pratima Patel!”
“I love you also, Danny Kerr!”
And I left. Pratima stood in the door and watched me as I walked down the street, me turning and waving at her every few seconds, she smiling and waving back, until I turned a corner and was out of sight.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And so began the story of my romance with Doctor Pratima Patel. We talked on the phone every day, and even managed to see each other for a short while that following Tuesday. Memorial Day weekend was fantastic, to say the least: that Friday she gave me keys to her house (and the alarm code), which was damn near a proposal, and we were rarely more than a few feet from each other at any given time. By Independence Day I was moving out of my little apartment into her place, and in October I popped the question. Her answer was by then a foregone conclusion. We were married the following May, the week before Memorial Day - the anniversary of our getting together. We’re still married, and things are still incredibly groovy. Sometimes at night, I lay awake next to Pratima, her head on my shoulder as she sleeps so soundly, and think back to those first four days. Then there may be a muffled sound from under her diaper, followed closely by the familiar scent of ginger, and I realize that I am the luckiest man on Earth.
Comment