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Drippy Diaper                                                                          By Les Lea

 

 

It was summer and the day had been wonderfully hot, one of the few as I remember. I'd spent the entire day on my own wandering around the countryside near my home wearing only a t-shirt and shorts. A lot of that time was spent on various grassy knolls, stripped to my diaper, enjoying the heat. To me, there is little else finer than lying out getting a tan, relaxing, looking at the clouds and being gently wafted by a warm breeze. As the day progressed the heat got more oppressive and the sweat turned my light disposable into a sponge. However, as the almost clear blue sky began to accumulate more cloud and the atmosphere was getting heavier, I could tell we were heading for a downpour before the end of the day.

 

As day turned to early evening, the clouds had become dark and menacing but still nothing had happened to dispel the humid and clammy feel of the oppressive conditions. I visited a fellow diaper loving friend at his place and we sat in his outhouse overlooking the back garden; windows and doors wide open in the hope of catching any passing breeze. We sweated in our shorts and t-shirts trying to keep cool with supplies of ice cool beer from the fridge.

 

It was too hot to actually be doing anything - even talking seemed quite an effort, when the first tell-tale splash announced itself. This was followed immediately by a few other large spots making even bigger splashes and noise on the glass roof. Five seconds later the heavens opened up and a great deluge just streamed from the sky. Almost at the same time a frightening white flash and horrendous crack of thunder announced that a storm had gathered over the house. It was scary and exhilarating, as flash after flash lit up the garden, complete with its thunderous accompaniment. My fellow diaper lover suggested we strip off and stand naked in the rain to cool down.

 

We pulled off our t-shirts and shorts but before he could remove his diaper I pushed him outside into the raging torrent. Although at first his disposable seemed to resist the downpour… in a matter of seconds it was soaked and swollen. However, this didn’t seem to worry him as he rushed to the centre of the garden with his arms outstretched and let the rain beat down on him. It was like a scene from the movies; the contrast between his tanned body and white diaper, drenched but smiling up to the heavens, well, the overall image was just superb. I pulled off my shorts and stripped to my diaper and thought, fuck the lightning; that looks like fun.

 

We stood side by side as the giant-sized, warm droplets pummelled our bodies. The force of the storm didn't seem to be easing and already a stream was flowing from the top of the garden, carrying leaves and soil down the slight incline into the now waterlogged flowerbed. As the thunder cracked around us we screamed in exhilaration and shouted our vocal appreciating to the non-stop noise. We were having ‘scary’ fun.

 

He had his eyes closed and was slowly spinning with his arms outstretched and I couldn’t resist the sudden urge I got to pull down his diaper.  However, just as I was going in for the killer move he opened his eyes and discerned what I was about to do. He blocked my move and countered with one of his own and before long we were writhing on the ground tickling and grabbing each others bodies. We wrestled in the rain trying to gain some kind of slippery advantage but we were well matched.

The rain began to ease and our diapers were in a terrible state stuck with leaves, grass, soil and who knew what else. We looked up and saw his young neighbour smiling at us from his bedroom window, a look of gratitude on his face. Although we both felt a bit embarrassed about our antics, I suppose like most teenager boys he'd taken himself in hand whilst he watched our homage to the rain. We got up to go back in the house but he wanted the last ‘word’. He attempted to pull down my soaked diaper to give the neighbour even more to think about but, like him, I realised just what he was about to do.

 

I spun around to exact some kind of reprisal and in doing so lost my footing on the greasy wet grass. I slid sideways all the way down the slippery incline on my arse and ended up in the muddy pool that used to be the flowerbed. The mucky water lapped around my groin, the heat from the ground had warmed it up and I was getting pleasantly excited from the surprisingly sensuous feel of my muddy situation. I called out to my friend to come and join me but he was already convulsed with laughter at my inelegant journey down the garden.

 

After a few moments off splashing in the mud I got up and my bloated white diaper had turned an unpleasant murky grey. It could soak up no more liquid and the excess just trickled off and ran down my mud-flecked legs. My friend had decided that I, and my dirty drippy diaper, needed to stay outside for a while longer so he locked the door and wouldn’t let me in.

 

The storm had passed, the clouds were breaking up and the final few rays of the day were making an appearance giving the garden a lovely fresh and invigorated quality. I returned to its centre, opened my arms as wide as I could, closed my eyes and let the sun dry me off. As the heat rose my sagging diaper disintegrated but I just stood there naked thinking what a great day it had been. When I opened my eyes again I noticed that my friend had returned with a hose, a towel, soap and various powders and lotions, while on the chair arm I could see he’d brought a fresh, clean, pristine white terry cloth diapers… so I guessed, the evening was going to be equally wonderful as well.

 

******end******

 

 

 

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