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The conclusion of part 2 (with a bit of overlap from the end of 2-B). There will be more as Pratima & Danny's first weekend together continues.
I think I'll post the next parts in the stories forum, as this is getting longer than I'd planned...hope all of you will enjoy this.
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The Scent of Ginger, Part 2-C: Such a Night
Pratima and I headed into the parlor, staggering slightly from full bellies and the influence of tea. Leisha closed the French doors behind us as we resumed our canoodling on the settee. Our inhibitions lowered, the kisses and caresses were somewhat more passionate than before.
We must have been going at it for some fifteen minutes when Leisha walked through the main hall, to discreetly dismiss herself. She gave me a smile and a double thumbs-up, and I smiled too (my hands being a little busy with hair and back to return the thumbs-up). We were now alone together for the first time, and Pratima’s Jinx started up in earnest.
The hugs and kisses became gradually more intense, and it was starting to get obvious what could happen. We tried to lay down…but a settee is only long enough for two average people to sit next to each other upright. The doctor, who’d said little since dinner, pointed at the stairs.
“Bedroom. Good idea,” I told her. And once more we mounted the staircase to the second floor, and down the hall to Pratima’s boudoir, where (after kicking off our shoes, of course) we assumed horizontal cuddling positions on the king sized four-poster. Now, I’ve made out with some of the few girlfriends I’ve had, but none could compare to what was happening between me and this Indian lady. All hell threatened to break loose as the kisses got even more passionate, the stroking got more adventurous. She allowed my hands to explore pretty much everything above her waist, and didn’t complain a bit as I went further and further down her back. Her hands were equally adventurous, and surely I didn’t mind.
Then it happened: as most guys do under such circumstances, I went to pet Pratima’s behind…and got a handful of diaper.
Right away I broke from her. “Oh, no, baby…I - I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry…”
Pratima gave me a quizzical look and said, “Danny, why do you apologize?”
“I touched the seat of your diaper by mistake.”
“Why do you believe you made a mistake?”
“Well…” I thought carefully about what I would say. “I have the idea that you are sensitive about, uh, that…area.”
The doctor began to stroke my hair, and smiled. “Danny, Danny, Danny…there is no part of my body that is off limits to you. We are romantic partners now, and I would like for us to fully enjoy each other.”
“Really?” I said. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, Danny. I am not very soiled.” She took my hand and guided to her backside. “Please continue.”
Another barrier broken. I began to caress her bottom through her pants and all, gently at first. She didn’t seem to be soiled at all, nor could I smell any evidence. The material of her garment felt moderately thick, and I detected the smoothness of plastic. Gaining confidence, I began to rub the diaper more firmly. Pratima let out a little giggle and stroked my own back more quickly. Our kissing grew more and more intense, our caressing faster, firmer. I petted her on her back and her hair a bit so she wouldn’t think I was concentrating on the diaper, but when I let my hand go back south she moaned softly. I was beginning to think she liked having her diaper petted.
Then, for the first time, I went for Pratima’s little pot belly, massaging it with one hand while playing with her hair with the other. That earned me a not-so-little gasp, which I knew wasn’t her usual pants-messing reaction. The intensity went up yet another notch. Finally, I thought “The hell with this horsing around.” I put my right hand under her tunic and inside her pants and began kneading the seat of her diaper.
Within seconds, Pratima gave out her loudest gasp yet. Her eyes opened wide. Her body stiffened. She couldn’t seem to get her breath.
For a moment I thought she was having some sort of attack or seizure. But then her hips began to buck as she let out a series of smaller gasps. Her hands grabbed my hair, seeming to want to tear it out.
Pratima Patel was having an orgasm. And apparently her diapered ass was her trigger.
The convulsions seemed to last forever, though in actual time it was less than a minute. I was starting to get a headache from the hair-pulling. Finally, the doctor began to calm down, her breathing became more regular. She rolled onto her back and I followed, hovering over her. Her eyes were a little moist as she looked up at me, and she began stroking my hair gently.
“Honey,” I asked her, “are you okay?” She nodded slowly.
“I didn’t get too carried away, did I?” She shook her head and smiled. Pratima seemed to be in a bit of a daze; eventually I discovered that she was unable to speak for some time after an orgasm. After a moment I lay my head on her chest, and we remained that way for a while.
Around midnight, I started to get up, but Pratima held onto my hand. “Baby,” I said, “I gotta use the, uh, water closet, and I think this would be a good time to change into our night clothes. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
She nodded and released my hand, and I gave her a little kiss on the forehead. “There’ll be more of those when I get back.” As I grabbed my PJ’s and robe from the closet and left, she sat up.
As I took my whiz and then changed, I thought about the demure Indian who had turned into a tiger in my arms. It seemed to me that not only was Pratima incontinent, she might even be a diaper lover. That would explain why she got off so dramatically when I pawed her pad. As I’ve said, I too get off on diapered women, especially those who are messy. And my wildest, wettest dreams were rapidly coming true. I couldn’t even imagine what she would be when the real thing happened.
Somehow, I’d managed not to ejaculate during our little adventure, probably because of how quickly things had happened. I considered rectifying that situation right there in Pratima’s bathroom - goodness knows it wouldn’t have taken too long, ready as I was. But even those few extra minutes away from my love would have been a few minutes too many.
I looked at my little friend and said to it, “Your time is gonna come. Real soon.”
When I returned to the bedroom, Pratima had changed into a long, flowing nightgown, under which I could finally see her diaper. It was a Japanese-style garment, made of birds-eye linen, with a pale yellow plastic cover decorated with flowers. It had snaps on the sides, and the typical string on the front to cinch the waist. Over the top of it I could see the waist gathers of a disposable brief. Evidently she wore the Japanese pants to contain any leakage. Thinking back to our heavy dinner, it occurred to me there would be a massive load in that diaper in the very near future.
She rose from the bed as I entered and hugged me. “Pratima,” I murmured, “right now you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Still speechless, she took my hand and kissed the back of it in that sweet manner of hers. I stroked her hair and upper back lightly as I kissed her. A few minutes later she led me to the bed and switched off the light.
“Goodnight, Pratima Patel,” I cooed as we lay down. She only said “Oooo,” as she rested her head on my shoulder. Within a minute she was asleep.
I lay awake for a while longer, as it takes me a while to adjust to unfamiliar surroundings. The bedroom light was off but the room wasn’t too dark; the big windows let in reflected light from the street lamps (because of the elevation of the second floor those lights were below the windows). The open windows also admitted the cool spring air which, combined with the pleasant scents of the bedroom, the effects of the tea, the reality of a long day, and the presence of Pratima at my side, helped me to nod off. The last thing I remembered before dozing off was hearing a muffled “blurp” from the vicinity of Pratima’s bottom, followed by the scent of ginger.
I think I'll post the next parts in the stories forum, as this is getting longer than I'd planned...hope all of you will enjoy this.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Scent of Ginger, Part 2-C: Such a Night
Pratima and I headed into the parlor, staggering slightly from full bellies and the influence of tea. Leisha closed the French doors behind us as we resumed our canoodling on the settee. Our inhibitions lowered, the kisses and caresses were somewhat more passionate than before.
We must have been going at it for some fifteen minutes when Leisha walked through the main hall, to discreetly dismiss herself. She gave me a smile and a double thumbs-up, and I smiled too (my hands being a little busy with hair and back to return the thumbs-up). We were now alone together for the first time, and Pratima’s Jinx started up in earnest.
The hugs and kisses became gradually more intense, and it was starting to get obvious what could happen. We tried to lay down…but a settee is only long enough for two average people to sit next to each other upright. The doctor, who’d said little since dinner, pointed at the stairs.
“Bedroom. Good idea,” I told her. And once more we mounted the staircase to the second floor, and down the hall to Pratima’s boudoir, where (after kicking off our shoes, of course) we assumed horizontal cuddling positions on the king sized four-poster. Now, I’ve made out with some of the few girlfriends I’ve had, but none could compare to what was happening between me and this Indian lady. All hell threatened to break loose as the kisses got even more passionate, the stroking got more adventurous. She allowed my hands to explore pretty much everything above her waist, and didn’t complain a bit as I went further and further down her back. Her hands were equally adventurous, and surely I didn’t mind.
Then it happened: as most guys do under such circumstances, I went to pet Pratima’s behind…and got a handful of diaper.
Right away I broke from her. “Oh, no, baby…I - I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry…”
Pratima gave me a quizzical look and said, “Danny, why do you apologize?”
“I touched the seat of your diaper by mistake.”
“Why do you believe you made a mistake?”
“Well…” I thought carefully about what I would say. “I have the idea that you are sensitive about, uh, that…area.”
The doctor began to stroke my hair, and smiled. “Danny, Danny, Danny…there is no part of my body that is off limits to you. We are romantic partners now, and I would like for us to fully enjoy each other.”
“Really?” I said. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, Danny. I am not very soiled.” She took my hand and guided to her backside. “Please continue.”
Another barrier broken. I began to caress her bottom through her pants and all, gently at first. She didn’t seem to be soiled at all, nor could I smell any evidence. The material of her garment felt moderately thick, and I detected the smoothness of plastic. Gaining confidence, I began to rub the diaper more firmly. Pratima let out a little giggle and stroked my own back more quickly. Our kissing grew more and more intense, our caressing faster, firmer. I petted her on her back and her hair a bit so she wouldn’t think I was concentrating on the diaper, but when I let my hand go back south she moaned softly. I was beginning to think she liked having her diaper petted.
Then, for the first time, I went for Pratima’s little pot belly, massaging it with one hand while playing with her hair with the other. That earned me a not-so-little gasp, which I knew wasn’t her usual pants-messing reaction. The intensity went up yet another notch. Finally, I thought “The hell with this horsing around.” I put my right hand under her tunic and inside her pants and began kneading the seat of her diaper.
Within seconds, Pratima gave out her loudest gasp yet. Her eyes opened wide. Her body stiffened. She couldn’t seem to get her breath.
For a moment I thought she was having some sort of attack or seizure. But then her hips began to buck as she let out a series of smaller gasps. Her hands grabbed my hair, seeming to want to tear it out.
Pratima Patel was having an orgasm. And apparently her diapered ass was her trigger.
The convulsions seemed to last forever, though in actual time it was less than a minute. I was starting to get a headache from the hair-pulling. Finally, the doctor began to calm down, her breathing became more regular. She rolled onto her back and I followed, hovering over her. Her eyes were a little moist as she looked up at me, and she began stroking my hair gently.
“Honey,” I asked her, “are you okay?” She nodded slowly.
“I didn’t get too carried away, did I?” She shook her head and smiled. Pratima seemed to be in a bit of a daze; eventually I discovered that she was unable to speak for some time after an orgasm. After a moment I lay my head on her chest, and we remained that way for a while.
Around midnight, I started to get up, but Pratima held onto my hand. “Baby,” I said, “I gotta use the, uh, water closet, and I think this would be a good time to change into our night clothes. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
She nodded and released my hand, and I gave her a little kiss on the forehead. “There’ll be more of those when I get back.” As I grabbed my PJ’s and robe from the closet and left, she sat up.
As I took my whiz and then changed, I thought about the demure Indian who had turned into a tiger in my arms. It seemed to me that not only was Pratima incontinent, she might even be a diaper lover. That would explain why she got off so dramatically when I pawed her pad. As I’ve said, I too get off on diapered women, especially those who are messy. And my wildest, wettest dreams were rapidly coming true. I couldn’t even imagine what she would be when the real thing happened.
Somehow, I’d managed not to ejaculate during our little adventure, probably because of how quickly things had happened. I considered rectifying that situation right there in Pratima’s bathroom - goodness knows it wouldn’t have taken too long, ready as I was. But even those few extra minutes away from my love would have been a few minutes too many.
I looked at my little friend and said to it, “Your time is gonna come. Real soon.”
When I returned to the bedroom, Pratima had changed into a long, flowing nightgown, under which I could finally see her diaper. It was a Japanese-style garment, made of birds-eye linen, with a pale yellow plastic cover decorated with flowers. It had snaps on the sides, and the typical string on the front to cinch the waist. Over the top of it I could see the waist gathers of a disposable brief. Evidently she wore the Japanese pants to contain any leakage. Thinking back to our heavy dinner, it occurred to me there would be a massive load in that diaper in the very near future.
She rose from the bed as I entered and hugged me. “Pratima,” I murmured, “right now you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Still speechless, she took my hand and kissed the back of it in that sweet manner of hers. I stroked her hair and upper back lightly as I kissed her. A few minutes later she led me to the bed and switched off the light.
“Goodnight, Pratima Patel,” I cooed as we lay down. She only said “Oooo,” as she rested her head on my shoulder. Within a minute she was asleep.
I lay awake for a while longer, as it takes me a while to adjust to unfamiliar surroundings. The bedroom light was off but the room wasn’t too dark; the big windows let in reflected light from the street lamps (because of the elevation of the second floor those lights were below the windows). The open windows also admitted the cool spring air which, combined with the pleasant scents of the bedroom, the effects of the tea, the reality of a long day, and the presence of Pratima at my side, helped me to nod off. The last thing I remembered before dozing off was hearing a muffled “blurp” from the vicinity of Pratima’s bottom, followed by the scent of ginger.
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