Date: Sat, 19 Nov 2005 18:21:48 -0600
From: Amber Fountaine <amber_fountaine@hotmail.com>
Subject: It Started with Tom, Ch. 1

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.


It Started with Tom (Bisexual, Urination, TV)

by Amber Fountaine

Chapter One


	I was twelve years old when my Uncle Tom spent the weekend so he could
baby-sit me. It embarrassed me greatly for two reasons. My closest friend
Jake was the same age and allowed to stay home without a baby sitter so
naturally he teased me about being a baby. Jake also knew my deepest,
darkest secret and the second reason - I was a bed wetter and needed to be
diapered at night. He'd teased me about that since he'd found out the year
before. Being a friend, he never said anything about it to our other friends
at school.

	But my Uncle Tom didn't know about it and I would have MUCH preferred he
not find out. It's not that I wet the bed every night. I'd been getting more
control and some of the tricks the doctor suggested had worked too. Lately
I'd gone as much as two or three weeks between wetting accidents; though it
was more common for me to wet myself three or four times in the same period.
And I was old enough that at least I didn't have to suffer the added
embarrassment of having my mom or new step-dad diaper me. I could diaper
myself at night before bed and if I peed in my sleep, take care of the soggy
diaper in the morning.

Roger, my step-dad tried to be cool about the whole thing and for that I was
thankful. In more recent conversations with others that had similar
situations to endure, most suffered greatly from a dad or step-dad that took
the stigma of a bedwetter in the family as a personal affront. Roger, as I
now call him, tried his best to console me and even admitted to being a
bedwetter himself at an earlier age. But it was Tom that I was worried
about. Tom was Roger's little brother and a senior in high school. To my
pre-adolescent mind, Roger was the coolest dude ever and I hoped to get
through the weekend without him discovering my need to be diapered like a
baby.

My mom destroyed that possibility when she told Tom, just before they left,
"Don't let Sammy sneak off to bed without putting his diaper on."

"Be glad to do it," he told her, at the same time giving me a wink she
couldn't see.

"Oh you don't have to diaper him," my mom said, thinking he'd misunderstood.
"He can do that himself. And he has been getting a lot better lately. He's
really getting to be a big boy," she added, trying to placate me. "It's just
a precaution - just in case."

I'm not sure - looking back and trying to be honest about it - if the flush
I felt was embarrassment or excitement. But I'm sure the wink and knowing
smile I'd gotten from Tom had a lot to do with it.

My folks left me with Tom around four on a Friday afternoon and my bedtime
was usually nine o'clock. For five hours I waited for Tom to make some
remark or question me about my need to wear a diaper, but he never mentioned
it and I began to wonder if maybe he hadn't really been paying all that much
attention to what my mom had said. I was often guilty of that myself - what
my mom called listening with one ear - and thought maybe Tom had agreed with
her without realizing what he'd agreed to. Unfortunately (or fortunately -
depending on how you feel about the rest of this story), Tom had heard and
completely understood every word.

When the TV show we were watching ended at nine, Tom told me, "I don't care
how late you stay up, but I want you to get ready for bed. That way I can
tell your mom that I had you ready for bed at nine each night, but of course
I couldn't possibly know what time you went to sleep unless I was sleeping
with you. That'll cover your ass and mine too."

That's what I meant about Tom being so super cool. He seemed to know exactly
how to get away with things without breaking the rules. And he could have
made fun of me, making some remark about putting on a diaper. But he just
said, 'Get ready for bed,' like it didn't matter if I wore diapers or
whatever.

Normally, I slept in the diapers my mom had made for me, and plastic pants -
sometimes adding a t-shirt. But I had a couple of pair of PJ's for when we
had company and I put those on over my diaper before coming back to the den
to watch more TV with Tom.

"Cute pajamas," Tom told me. "I'd have thought you were a little old for
those."

I had to think about that a minute. It didn't make sense that he thought I
was too old to be wearing PJ's and the diapers, which I knew I was way too
old for, didn't get mentioned. So I told him that if I took the PJ's off,
that would leave me in diapers and that would look even sillier.

He laughed and gave me a hug and told me, "Maybe to some people, but not to
me. For your information, your dad and I were both bedwetters. I wore
diapers until after I started school and when Roger teased me about it, my
mom and dad made him wear diapers too. And he was in high school then. For
that matter, your grandfather Henry wears things almost like diapers and I
know my mom had talked to your mom about getting him diapers like yours to
wear. He had a prostrate operation and he has almost no bladder control at
all."

That was all new news to me. I figured it accounted for the way both Roger
and Tom were so cool about me being diapered at night. If both of them had
been diapered when they were young men and their dad was in diapers now,
they could hardly make fun of me. I was tempted to take off the PJ's but
didn't. The following morning though, I got another surprise from Tom.

Sometime after I woke up, but before I got up, Tom came in my room to tell
me he was fixing breakfast and ask how many eggs I wanted. When he realized
I was just getting out of bed, he asked if I was wet or dry and I told him,
"Dry."

"Too bad," he told me. "With your mom and dad gone, you could have kept your
wet diaper on. I remember how much I loved to keep mine on after it was
wet." Then he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me to think about
what he'd said.

I knew he was right. I felt the same way. Anytime I didn't have to get up
for school and my parents slept late, I kept my diaper on as long as I could
if it was wet. That was what Jake teased me about more than anything. It
wasn't so much that I had to wear a diaper to bed, I'd admitted to him that
I really liked the way the diaper felt after it was wet. So he teased me
about being a 'piss pants'.

So right then, at that very moment on a fall morning of my twelfth year,
without any further thought or consideration, I did something that changed
my life forever. I wet my diaper on purpose for the very first time.

I can't tell you if it had never occurred to me to wet it before or if I'd
thought about it and wetting on purpose had seemed too outlandish to try, or
why, having previously come to the conclusion that a wet diaper could be
enjoyable, I'd never just let go and peed in one. I suppose there was some
mental barrier between wetting accidentally at night and on purpose during
the day, that I'd never crossed before that morning. Previously, even if my
diapers were already wet, I wouldn't wet it some more. Now I was peeing in a
dry diaper, wetting it on purpose, and found the experience very exciting. I
was still too young to realize there was an erotic element to the situation.

My knowledge of sex at the time was very limited. I'd had a rudimentary
explanation from both of my folks and Jake and I had shared what little we
knew with each other. With Tom's help, that was going to quickly change.

"Decide not to change?" Tom asked when I walked into the kitchen. I was
wearing a t-shirt, diaper, and plastic panties and he had to have realized
that I had at least changed out of the PJ's. So I knew he was talking about
my diapers.

"Decided to follow your suggestion," I told him, trying to make pissing in
my diaper his idea. "I wet it to see what it would feel like if I kept it
on."

He looked at me and smiled. "Lucky guy. Sometimes I feel like the advantages
of growing up aren't all they're cracked up to be."

He didn't go into an explanation of that, but it sure sounded to me like he
wished he could wear diapers again too. "I've got extra diapers and plastic
panties and I'm pretty sure they'd fit you," I offered.

Tom looked at me and I could tell the temptation was great. "Maybe tonight,"
he finally answered. "We've got a few things to do today that I was saving
as a surprise for you. But you can keep your diaper on until lunch if you
want."

At that point, there was nothing I wanted more. It hadn't really been Tom's
idea for me to wear and wet my diaper, but it seemed to me like doing so and
flaunting it were ways I could get his approval. So all through breakfast
and for the rest of the morning, as I continued to pee in the diaper, I'd
make occasional remarks about my squishy diaper and how right he was about
how good it felt to pee in it and wear it. For some reason I didn't
understand, my remarks often resulted in Tom rubbing the front of his
shorts. I guess the epitome of being naive is when you give another guy a
hard on and don't know it.

It was sometime around noon when Tom suggested we shower and dress, telling
me we'd eat on the way. Of course I wanted to know where we were on the way
to, but Tom wanted to keep that a surprise. And I half hoped or expected
that he'd want to take off my diaper and maybe shower with me. But he sent
me off to do that by myself, telling me I could wear a diaper all afternoon
if I wanted, if I had loose fitting shorts to wear over it. My answer was,
"I will if you will," but he didn't take me up on it. But again, from the
look on his face and the hesitation in answering, I could tell the
temptation was strong.

His surprise turned out to be a trip to the State Fair in Dallas. We lived
in a Dallas suburb, about an hours drive away and while I'd heard of the
Fair, I didn't know a whole lot about it. Mostly what I knew was that Texas
and Oklahoma played football there and according to some of the
conversations I'd heard, it was the biggest and most important football game
ever played. I didn't quite understand how that could be if they played
every year, but I wasn't big on sports back then either. And of course I'd
seen pictures of this giant statue of a guy in boots and hat and was aware
it was a symbol of the Fair, but until I saw it in person, I had no idea how
big it really was.

My previous experience with statues was limited to the one in our city park
and the one in front of our little town library. Those were life-size and I
expected 'Big Tex' to be twice that size. Instead, he seemed to be as tall
as our hometown water tower.

We paused to admire 'Big Tex' on our way into the Fair and Tom took the
opportunity to plant the first true sexual seeds of thought in my young
mind. "Can you imagine how big the cock would be on a guy that size? I'll
bet neither of us could get our arms around it. Me and Roger are both big,
but that guy would be huge."

My buddy Jake and I had discussed cock size and the desire to have nice big
ones when they finally began to grow - as we'd been told they would. But at
the time, all we were really concerned about was when we were ever going to
get some pubic hair. I'd spotted Roger changing clothes one day and had been
amazed at the size of his cock and the forest of curly hair around it. To me
it looked like it was the size of a baby's arm and I'd uttered a "Wow!"
without thinking. He'd assured me that I was almost as big as he'd been at
my age and that I'd have an impressive prick when I was older. But since I
was barely into puberty at the time, I hadn't given it much more thought.

So in spite of all the activities of the day, and all the things there were
to see and do, it was Tom's remark about the size of his cock and the
thought of 'Big Tex' having one so big you could put your arms around it,
that pervaded all other consideration. Almost immediately I made up my mind
that I wanted to see Tom's prick, and the more I thought about it, if I was
really, really lucky, at least get my hands around it. Tom never mentioned
his cock again, but sex was part of most of his remarks all day. Whether it
was pointing out some gal with huge tits, or giving me insights into things
about my new dad that I never would have dreamed, it always seemed to be
something sexual.

All I'd known for sure about Roger was that he was an old friend of both my
mom and my real dad and that after my dad got killed overseas, Roger waited
until the proper amount of time before dating my mom and eventually marrying
her. My pediatrician felt that it was the death of my dad that had caused me
to become a bedwetter and that as soon as I felt comfortable with Roger as
my new dad, the bedwetting would stop. I wasn't so sure, since I couldn't
remember much about my real dad and had no problem accepting Roger. But
everyone seemed happy with the doctor's assumption since it made my
bedwetting something like a bad cold that took a long time to get over.

Now I was hearing things from Tom that amazed me. He told me how Roger had
told him about going to the Fair years earlier when they had burlesque shows
and that Roger and a bunch of his buddies and driven all the way to Mexico
and had seen sex shows down there that were incredible. "Some of my friends
and I have talked about going," Tom told me. "I want to see them too."

Naturally I wanted to know what they did that made them so incredible.

"Some of them are pretty straight," he explained. "Just men and women doing
it." He seemed to take it for granted that I had a much better understanding
of what fucking involved than I really did. "But the good ones have all
kinds of stuff. Some of them have guys dressing up like girls and doing it
with other guys. He even saw one where two women peed on each other and then
licked each other clean."

That was hard for me to visualize. My rudimentary knowledge of sex was
limited to the male penis depositing seed in the female and a baby being
created. Jake had added that he'd heard that some girls liked to do a guy
with their mouths. So he and I had wondered if swallowing that seed worked
just as well in getting it to the prospective mother's stomach where the
baby would be made. Now all this stuff that Tom was talking about seemed to
also have something to do with sex and I wondered how a guy could get
pregnant just from dressing as a girl. And if two girls could pee on each
other and liked to lick each other, then was it possible for two guys to do
the same thing?

I tried to visualize my buddy Jake and I peeing and licking each other. It
seemed outlandish, but I decided I should discuss it with Jake and see how
he felt. Since our peckers were aimable, I was sure it was easier for two
guys to do it. I tried to imagine two girls doing it and couldn't. As you
can imagine, by the end of the day I had a lot of questions and the ride
home with Tom was exciting and informative.

The first thirty minutes was devoted to Tom explaining all he knew about
guys the liked to dress as women and what they did when they had sex with
other men. "They use their mouths or take it up the ass," he explained in
response to my question. When it became obvious to him that I didn't
understand, he went into graphic detail, giving me highlights of cocksucking
and ass fucking from his own experiences.

Since he'd already told me that guys that did that were queer, I asked if he
was queer too.

"No silly. I wasn't much older than you and I did it with your dad. Most
guys have a friend or brother or someone they fool around with when they're
in their teens. I date girls and your dad married your mom. Fooling around
when you're a teen doesn't make you queer."

"Your still a teen," I pointed out. "Do you still fool around with guys?"

"Kind of personal don't you think?" he answered, avoiding the question.

"Well do I have to wait until next year when I turn thirteen to fool around
with a guy?" I wanted to know.

That caused Tom to laugh so hard I thought he would run off the road. When
he got control of himself and the car he told me, "That's up to you. But it
might be a good idea. If I were you, I'd be real sure it was with someone
you can trust."

"Can I trust you?"

That gave him pause. I could see from the lights of approaching cars that he
was staring straight ahead with his mouth open to speak and nothing coming
out. Finally, he wiggled out of the conversation by telling me I should
consider someone my own age and then changed the subject. But in changing
the subject, he got me right back into asking questions. After mentioning
the age thing, he told me, "Shit, I should have peed before we left the
fairgrounds. If I don't find a place to stop before we get home, my eyes
will be turning yellow."

"Me too," I told him. "But I'm gonna try to hold it."

"Well just remember you don't have a diaper on and I don't want my car seat
to get wet."

"That's why I want to hold it. I want to wet my diaper before I go to bed to
see if I like it."

"That's cool," Tom told me. "Just make sure you don't tell your folks it was
my idea."

"I wasn't going to tell my folks anything. And I'm not going to tell my dad
what you told me about him. But I really think it's cool that you and he did
stuff like that." As expected that met his approval, so I asked him, "Do
guys ever pee on each other like you said the girls in Mexico do? I can't
imagine any girls here doing that."

"You'd be surprised," he told me and I couldn't imagine being any more
surprised than I'd already been that day. Then he added confidentially,
"Roger told your Aunt Arlene and Nelda about what he'd seen in Mexico and I
know for a fact that they tried it with each other. And not all the girls in
Mexico pee on each other. Just the ones in the sex shows."

"But what about guys?" I persisted.

"Yeah, some guys like to do it too. Roger and I tried it a few times."

I came to what seemed to me to be a logical conclusion. "So if you tried it
a few times, that means you must have liked it. Do you still do it?"

"I haven't had anyone to do it with since your dad moved out on his own. But
I know your Aunt Arlene loves to do it with guys and other girls too."

"Do you and Aunt Arlene do it and do you think my mom and dad pee on each
other?"

"Damn, you're really interested in all this peeing stuff aren't you?" He
told me, ignoring my question and staying silent for a while.

A few minutes later, I pointed out a gas station that was coming up and told
him, "You could stop there if you want - or you can save it and wear one of
my diapers and wet it like I'm gonna do."

I could almost hear his mind churning as he debated with himself over those
options. I almost cried with joy when Tom never slowed down and the gas
station came and went over my right shoulder. I wasn't at all put off when
he told me, "We'll see. We're almost there now and I'm sure I can make it."

Immediately when we got home, I went to my room and put on the thickest
diaper in my drawer. After covering it with plastic panties, I got another
diaper, two pins, and a pair of plastic panties for Tom and took them to
him. I held them out for him to take but he acted like he was busy and told
me to set it all on the table, that he wasn't sure he wanted to do that. I
was too young to know that the huge bulge in his pants was making a liar out
of him.

Instinctively I guess, I knew how to get him to make up his mind. "Watch," I
told him and as soon as he turned in my direction, I began to pee. The
plastic panties were clear but so was my pee. Still, you could see the
material getting wet as I gave my diaper a really good soaking. Just that
quick, I was wearing as wet a diaper as I'd ever had on. And my wet diaper
dissolved the last of Tom's reserve.

"Oh shit, why not," he said, picking up the diaper, pins and plastic
panties. "But if you ever tell anyone - I mean ANYONE - about this, I'll
beat the shit out of you and then kill you and then beat the shit out of you
again."

That wasn't too logical, but I readily agreed and followed him to my
parent's bedroom. That's where he'd slept the night before and I guess it
was reasonable for him to consider that his room until my folks came back.
When he began to undress, he noticed me and said, "I can put it on without
your help."

"I wanna watch."

"Yeah, sure," he told me in a way that let me know he'd accepted the idea
that I really wanted a lot more. Then he turned his back to finish
undressing.

When he was completely naked, he turned toward me as he opened the diaper to
spread it on the bed and smiled when he saw I was staring at his cock. With
one hand he hefted his meaty maleness in my direction, pointing it at me
like he was going to pee and asked, "Is this what you wanted to see?"

As if in a trance, I closed the short distance between us. He had his hand
around the base of his cock, leaving plenty of room for me to put my hand
around it too. It took my breath away. It was the most awesome, exciting
moment of my life and one I was to repeat many times in the coming years.

I've since held many that were bigger or thicker or leaking more precum, but
none have ever given me the thrill that I got that day I wrapped my virgin
fingers around Tom's cock.

Thankfully, his explanation of a blowjob had been as instructional as it was
informative and maybe even then he'd known what was about to happen. Without
another word between us, I sank to my knees in the carpeting of my parent's
bedroom and took the knob of Tom's cock in my equally virginal mouth. Tom
had explained how the term 'blowjob' was incorrect and that sucking was the
true name of the game. I'm sure I never got more than an inch or two of
Tom's cock in my mouth, but I must have been doing something right. I'd
barely started when Tom abruptly pushed me away, telling me, "Stop or I'll
cum."

That confused me as I'd gotten the impression from what he'd told me on the
drive home that making a guy cum was what sucking cock was all about. I
didn't know exactly what 'cum' was, but it seemed to be the whole purpose of
sex. "I thought you were supposed to?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah, but not that fast. It's better if you make it last as long as
possible. You better let me get my diaper on. I still need to pee like a
race horse."

"You can pee in my diaper," I suggested. I still had one hand on his cock
and didn't want to let go.

"Sounds like fun. But then my diaper wouldn't be wet. Besides, we have lots
of time. Your folks aren't due back until Monday night. We can always pee in
each other's diapers later. How many diapers like this do you have?" As he'd
been talking, he'd moved away from me and into position on the bed and was
ready to pin his diaper in place.

"Four," I told him. "But the one from last night is already wet so there's
only one left. And there's only two pair of these plastic panties." I handed
him the plastic panties as I said it and he looked at them for a moment.

"Think these are really big enough?"

"Should be," I said with authority. I'd noticed when I'd picked up his
shorts that they were a size 28 and mine were 26.

"Why do you call them panties? Do you like to think of yourself as a baby
girl?"

"No," I told him, my voice bordering on indignance. "My mom calls them
plastic panties and I've never thought about it."

"Would you like to dress up like a girl? You seemed real interested in stuff
like that when I was telling you about it in the car."

It really hadn't occurred to me as best that I remember, but when he asked,
I thought about it and realized I had sucked his cock like the 'girls' he'd
talked about. So I shrugged and told him, "Maybe. But where would I get any
clothes to wear?"

"I'll bet some of your mom's things would fit you." He'd put on the plastic
panties and was getting up as he said it. "Where does she keep her
nightgowns?"

I had no idea and together we went on a scavenger hunt for a nightie. When
we found them, Tom picked one with a short, ruffled hem that I'd never seen
my mom wear and put it on me, then held me close against him to look at us
in the mirror.

In my estimation, I looked like a very big baby girl, and with Tom standing
behind me with his arms around me, he looked like my older boyfriend. It was
a feeling I took to immediately, instinctively pushing back against Tom,
rubbing my diapered butt against his diapered cock. Then I heard the hissing
sound that I knew was Tom soaking his diaper and I reached back between us,
sticking my hand down the front of his diaper so that he was peeing on my
fingers. When he finished, I pulled my hand out and hesitated but a moment
before licking my fingers and tasting his pee.

I can remember thinking that his pee had the same tangy, acrid taste as the
precum I'd tasted when I'd briefly sucked his cock, only his pee tasted
weaker. When I was sure he was done peeing, I asked, "Now can I make you
cum?"

I was serious and a little peeved when he laughed at me. "You're something
else," he told me chuckling. "We have lots of time. Why don't we just enjoy
wearing our diapers for now. This is the first one I've had on since I was
younger than you are."

"Do you like it?" I asked hopefully.

"I'm hard as a rock." The way he said it let me know that was all the
explanation necessary. Anything that made you hard as a rock had to be good.
Now I had to wait for him to decide when he wanted me to finish what I'd
started. Dressed as I was, in diapers and a nightie, I was determined to use
my mouth to make Tom cum.


Chapters 2-4 to follow. Comments to amber_fountaine@hotmail.com