Date: Wed, 30 Jan 2008 12:58:17 -0600
From: Amber Fountaine <amber_fountaine@hotmail.com>
Subject: Old Fruit Jar 3

               Old Fruit Jar - Virgin No More
                     by Amber Fountaine

	The two girls looked at me like I was the canary and they were a
pair of cats. They'd won the game we were playing and had done it without
even letting me know we were playing a game or what game we were
playing. I'd lost merely by being involved with them.
	My not-so-little sister Jenifer kept looking at me with a wicked
grin, as if enjoying my discomfort, and let her friend Susan do the
talking.
	"If it's really `okay,'" Susan said to me, "then I think you ought
to try it. You do want to try it don't you?" When I nodded, she went on,
"And if it still bothers you that it's your sister's pee, you can drink
some of mine."
	"Okay," I said again, beginning to sound like a broken record. If
the expression, `broken record,' doesn't make sense to you, then you're
undoubtedly one of the younger readers and you'll have to get someone over
the age of 25 or 30 to explain it to you.
	"Okay, who?" Susan persisted, tired of my one word answers. "Mine
or Jenifer's?"
	"Okay - either one - or both." I told her, and then reminded her,
"But it wouldn't be as much fun that way." Susan seemed confused by that
and had to think about it. I meant drinking their pee from a fruit jar or
anything else they could use that would serve the same purpose. But when
I'd said, `both' and then indicated that it wouldn't be as much fun, she
must have thought I meant doing it with both of them. Thanks to the `girl
talk' sessions with Jen, Jen was much more in tune with my thinking and
explained it for Susan.
	"The sissy wants to try eating pussy," Jen told her, like I wasn't
there.
	Susan studied me for a moment. Now she understood that I wanted to
drink their pee right from the source and eliminate the jar or glass or
whatever. I wanted them to pee right in my mouth like the guys had done and
Jen had figured out that I wanted them close enough so that I could enjoy
it in other ways too. When Susan had that all worked out in her mind, she
made her decision and told me, "Okay. But no sex! Eating is okay - but no
sex."
	I wanted to argue with her about that, but I couldn't. I'd like you
to believe that it was because I was smart enough not to screw things up by
arguing myself out a possible sexual encounter. If Susan wanted to believe
that oral sex wasn't sex, then that was fine with me. But the truth was
that I was so startled by this sudden opportunity that I kept quiet almost
entirely because I was stunned speechless. However, as my brain came back
to life, I realized that this was not the time to try to demonstrate to her
how smart I was by proving to her that oral sex was sex too. If that was
what she wanted to believe (I had to wonder why Jen didn't say anything
because I knew she knew better), then it wasn't up to me to correct
Susan. "Okay," I said again, and tried not to grin too much. I'd be glad to
keep my dick in my pants - or in this case, my panties - for the chance to
lick either or both of their pussies and drink their pee too.
	"Are you going to let him?' Jen asked Susan.
	"Why not?" Susan countered. "You were right about it feeling good
when we did it. So why not give your brother a taste and see if he's as
good as you are? You said that's what he really wants."
	Jenifer was blushing as much as I'd ever seen her blush and now I
knew why the girls had been so bright and cheerful. Sometime last night
while I'd been with Cody at the drive-in, sucking cock, Jen had talked
Susan into trying girl-girl sex. Now Susan was ready to expand on her
knowledge. She'd enjoyed having a girl's tongue in her slit. Now she was
ready to try a boy's and I was eager and available. The fact that they had
so much to hold over me was a plus in my favor because they knew I couldn't
tell anyone.
	Before Jen could say anything that might change Susan's mind, I
told Susan, "I'll be happy to drink your pee or lick your pussy or both."
	Susan flushed too, but she wasn't blushing. I could tell it was a
flush of excitement, made worse each time she tried to look me in the
eye. Finally she looked up long enough to ask, "How . . . I mean where
would . . . It could be messy."
	I understood her concern. Even with something as easy to aim as a
man's dick, the guys had gotten a lot of pee on me instead of in my
mouth. I wasn't sure if a girl could aim at all. To my limited knowledge of
the female anatomy it seemed unlikely. That would make it entirely my
responsibility to be in the right position or place to catch it all and not
having done it with a woman, I had no idea what that place or position
might be. When the guys had hosed me down with pee at work, we'd been
outdoors, by ourselves, and it had dried in the sun almost instantly. When
Cody had peed on me and in my mouth at his place, I'd knelt in his shower
stall. That seemed to me to be the best place to do that with a girl so I
asked, "Can you pee standing up?"
	I could tell when the girls looked at each other with a confused
look on their faces that neither had ever thought of peeing standing up,
nor had they ever had any reason to consider it before that moment. My
dumbass question wasn't doing my mission any good. So quickly I explained,
"Cody peed in my mouth at his place while I was kneeling in the shower so
we wouldn't get his bed wet."
	"I told you he was a pervert," Jen said to Susan
	"Yeah," Susan conceded. "You're right. But he's a cute pervert."
	I was beginning to think if I heard `cute' one more time I'd
scream, but there were more important things to consider than them calling
me `cute' all the time. There was another idea forming in my head and I
began thinking aloud. "Cody had a shower stall and that worked okay with a
guy. But we have a bathtub. Maybe I could lie down in the tub and you could
sort of squat over me that way."
	What I didn't know at the time was that their evening bath together
the previous night had been where their sexual experimentation had begun
and that was the reason my suggestion got big blushing smiles from both of
them. My devious little sister had seduced her best friend, not that Susan
hadn't been more than willing, beginning with something as innocent as
helping each other shave their legs in the tub. So Susan had reason to be
extra cautious when I made a suggestion that wasn't nearly as innocent and
would also took place in the tub. She was willing to pee in my mouth. And
she was apparently just as eager to have me lick her pussy. But she wanted
to make sure that nothing else happened.
	Susan turned to Jen and told her, "You have to help me."
	That got as confused a look from Jen as it did from me. "How?" Jen
asked.
	"You have to get in the tub with me too. When I squat over his
face, you have to make sure he doesn't try anything else."
	That didn't clear things up in Jen's mind any more than it did in
mine, but I was willing her, as hard as I could, to say yes. Silently, my
whole body was screaming at Jen, "Say yes! Say yes!"
	With some trepidation, Jen looked from me to Susan, and this time
it was Jen that said, "Okay."
	I believe that morning was the first time I noticed that there was
definitely a difference in the way men and women think. One of the common
analogies of the time, when it came to sex, was baseball. It's still in use
today. According to my school mates, making out, or kissing was considered
`1st base' and if you got to feel her tits, that was `2nd base'. Getting
your hand in her panties was a triple and if good old Peter came sliding
home, that was a Home Run!
	When we got to the bathroom, Susan laid down the rules I had to
accept before we went any further. I was to keep on my nightgown and
panties. She would keep on her nightie, but remove her panties. I was to
lay in the tub so that she could position herself over my face, and I'd be
allowed to use my hands to open her up or help support her, but at no time
was she to get the impression I was trying to penetrate her with my
fingers. I could penetrate her with my tongue if I wanted (Oh boy did I!)
and at no time, under any circumstances, was I to pull out my prick unless
specifically told to.
	After thinking that through and agreeing so fast that I'm sure they
believed I hadn't given it any thought at all, I commented, "That's almost
like going straight to third base without ever going to first or second."
	Sports fans or not, the girls were well aware of the baseball
analogy and used it themselves. So Susan knew exactly what I'd meant and
told me, "Oh that only counts if it's a guy you're interested in
romantically."
	It was my first lesson into the female mindset. If there was a
physical attraction and little chance of it becoming romantic, then all the
rules were off, and the girl was free to allow the guy a home run if she
desired, or like my sister had done with the two strangers, suck their
cocks. However as another example, Terry, Jen's boyfriend, was a romantic
interest and as such, had to earn his progress from base to base. This I
learned was partly to assure a girl of a date for important events. Just as
important, it was to teach men at an early age that pussy has its price and
not to rush when it came to sex. Every homerun was to be accomplished only
after a leisurely lap around the bases. While "Free Love" may have been the
mantra of the moment for the hippies, the reality is that nothing comes
without a price of some sort and nothing better exemplifies that than
pussy. Since Susan had no interest in me romantically, she was free to
experiment with me sexually. The cost to me was total subjugation to the
two girls and I was more than willing to pay that price.
	Since the time Jenifer had caught me in her panties and we'd begun
an ongoing series of discussions, primarily about sex, she had been
promising me that she'd show me her pussy and explain where and how I was
supposed to lick it to make a girl happy. I'd been fulfilling my part of
the bargain, dressing as Samantha and jacking off for her
entertainment. She had shown me her tits and demonstrated how her nipples
would get bigger and harder when she played with them, but so far there'd
been no pussy exhibit. So when Susan moved into position above me, I was
treated to an awesome sight.
	Or maybe it was a disappointing one. The inner lips of Susan's
pussy (like many women I was to later learn) didn't protrude until she was
fully sexually aroused. So my first impression of pussy at close range was
that it was a whole lot of to-do about nothing. With the two men I'd known,
there'd been all these wonderful parts to play with and put in my
mouth. Susan's pussy looked to me like everything had been removed, or
possibly stored inside and then zipped shut. Luckily Jenifer had given me
enough hints that I knew to start licking the whole length of that
slit. When my efforts produced sounds of pleasure from Susan, I was
gratified to know I was doing something right, and when she began to pee, I
thought at first that she was having an orgasm.
	That might sound silly, but remember that at the time I was barely
eighteen, had never done anything this sexual with a girl, but had enjoyed
two men squirting cum in my mouth several times. In addition, my school
pals, though they tried to sound worldly and experienced, were just as
ignorant of the female sexual anatomy. So while we'd heard of the famous
"O" we'd never experienced it. According to some stories I'd heard, women
could squirt during orgasm just like a man. No one professed to know just
how or from where, but according to rumor, if a guy was good enough to
produce a female orgasm, he was set for pussy for life.
	So you can imagine how pleased I was when Susan began
squirting. For a moment, I was thrilled beyond words; then the squirts
turned into a steady stream of hot piss and I was too busy licking,
lapping, and swallowing to show my disappointment right away. It wasn't
until many years later that I learned that Susan's body had been as close
to orgasm as it was capable at the moment those piss squirts had begun and
that in later years, when Susan reached her thirties, she would have her
best orgasms while letting her bladder go. But again I'm getting ahead of
myself. At the moment, Susan wasn't the only one enjoying herself.
	As part of the deal, Susan had required Jen to climb in the tub too
and then sit on me in such a way that I couldn't suddenly decide to take
advantage of Susan's bare bottom. Since Susan had never had sex either, she
was of the impression, possibly from parental warnings, that a hard cock
would slip inside her quicker and easier than a rabbit could slip into his
hole. Having Jenifer sit on my belly was supposed to provide Susan a buffer
of sorts. It had sounded innocent enough, but once she was in place, by
accident or purpose, the only thing separating my hard cock and Jen's pussy
had been the nylon of my panties and the nylon of hers. As to who was
rubbing on whom, I couldn't tell you. I know I was concentrating on eating
Susan's pussy and any movement of my hips had to be instinctive and not
intended. Jenifer did admit much later that she just `might' have been
moving too. Whatever the case, the pressure and friction of Jen's pussy
against the underside of my cock produced a fantastic cum. Unfortunately
the moment was ruined when Jen realized the moisture seeping into her
panties was the cum seeping out of mine.
	"Oh my god! He's got cum on me!" Jen screamed, jumping to her feet
and feeling the slipperiness of her panty crotch.
	Susan twisted to see what the problem was and damn near took off
one of my ears with her knee. However it gave me room to see Susan reach
out and hook her fingers inside the crotch of Jen's panties and then feel
Jenifer's pussy. "I'm sure you don't have anything to worry about. It's got
to get way up inside you to get you pregnant. If you have to pee, go ahead
and pee in your panties like the sissy does. That's supposed to kill any of
the sperm."
	The thought that I might have gotten Jen pregnant was frightening
to me too and I hoped Susan knew what she was talking about. Jen had to
squat back down to pee and when she did the pee ran from the crotch of her
panties and all over the front of mine. While that should have been another
exciting and awesome experience (and would be in the future under different
circumstances, neither Jen nor I were thinking along the lines of
excitement at the moment. Just saying the word "pregnant" is enough to send
chills through most teens and certainly ended our sexual shenanigans for
that day. The important thing though, was that I'd tasted pussy and girl
pee and that would lead to me getting laid - but not by Susan or my sister
as you might think.
	I had never really questioned or even thought much about Jim's
relationship to Dave. I'd picked up enough bits of information to know that
they'd met while they'd been in high school and working for Jim's uncle and
had been having sex ever since. What I didn't know and was about to find
out, was how and why they began having sex. In a way, good old "Uncle Sam"
had played a big part in it.
	Dave's family was one of the pioneers of the nudist movement in the
Phoenix area in the fifties. They'd helped establish one of the early
nudist camps north of town. This was also before `bisexual' became an
acknowledged choice of sexual preference. Dave's dad went by the Kinsey
scale where he proudly proclaimed himself to be a `3' and had encouraged
his son to experiment with other boys before Dave met Jim. It was about the
time that Dave and Jim were becoming good friends that a conversation
ensued regarding the draft, Viet Nam, and what the boys might do about
it. Dave's dad had been in WWII, considered himself a patriot, but saw
nothing right about American involvement in SE Asia. "What you guys ought
to do is tell the draft board you're queer," had been his advice to Dave
and Jim.
	I didn't hear of this until the second day at Jim and Dave's new
place. On the chance that his parents would see his truck and come next
door to talk, as he and Dave had done when they'd spotted Cody's truck, Jim
went to his folks house first and while he was inside talking to them, I
snuck over and loaded some of `Samantha's' things in Jim's truck. Then I
knocked on the door and asked Jim if he still needed help moving and Jim
explained to his folks that Dave had somewhere to go for the rest of the
weekend and that I was going to help him for a couple of days. With our
stories squared away, we were off to Tempe and the next chapter of my
sexual education.
	The first night, Sunday, went much as I'd expected and as Jim had
explained in advance. During the same call that had set up the story for
his parents, he'd prepared me again by assuring me that I'd have to do for
Dave anything I did for him. Dave had become aware of my relationship away
from work with Jim and Jim had told Dave that he was welcome to join in the
fun, but it was something that wasn't to be pursued in any way during work
hours. All three of us had agreed to those terms and as a result, within
thirty minutes of arriving at their apartment, Dave and Jim were naked and
I was in my sexy lingerie doing my Samantha thing - sucking their
cocks. They'd been waiting for my arrival to officially break in their
`love nest' and it was remarks like that which made me wonder if maybe they
really were a gay couple.
       While there'd been several comments made at work about the `jar boy'
being a sweet looking piece of ass, neither Jim nor Cody had made any
effort to try to fuck my ass. I'd thought about it and I don't recall that
I'd ever come to a conclusion as to whether I wanted to try it or not. It
seems like I'd decided to wait until someone wanted to and then make my
decision at that time. So when Dave asked Jim if he'd fucked me yet and Jim
told him no, that he'd been thinking about it, I told Jim I'd like for him
to be my first. But the guys decided that since Jim had been the first to
fuck my mouth, Dave should have the honor of being the first to fuck my
ass. By the time Jim got done sucking Dave so that he was hard and ready
and then rimming my ass so that I was too, ready wasn't a word to do
justice to the need I felt. `Samantha' was hot and eager to be fucked like
a girl. Jim was content to watch that first time, but the following morning
they took turns fucking my ass and mouth at the same time. It was
wonderful. I felt like the biggest sissy slut in the world and it was about
to get better.
       I wasn't the only one with a younger sister to contend with. In
fact, Dave had two sisters, one younger and one older, in addition to his
older brother. I never met the older sister and it's probably just as well
if she was the big prude that Dave said she was. According to Dave, she
hated their parent's lifestyle and was seriously considering becoming a
nun. I had no reason to doubt his opinion since he was right on the money
describing his little sister. In fact, calling her a hell-cat may have been
an understatement. She was for sure a different story than any girl I'd met
so far.
       If anyone deserved to be called "cute" it was Dave's sister
Becky. We were the same age, about to be high school seniors, and under any
other circumstance, I would have been doing my best to impress her. But
that was not going to happen after she arrived at her brother's new
apartment to find me running around dressed like a girl and both guys
naked. She'd seen nude men all her life, including Dave and Jim, so that
didn't even faze her. Both guys were at least semi-stiff because she'd
interrupted one of our suck & fuck sessions and that didn't seem to
surprise her either. Actually, as I was about to find out, that's what
she'd expected. The only thing that seemed out of place to her was me, the
guy dressed in lingerie, with his lipstick smeared from sucking their
dicks.
       "Didn't take you fags long to turn this place into a queer
whorehouse," she said, as soon as she'd looked around. "Who's the sissy
slut?"
       I was the sissy slut she was referring to and as I think back about
it, I believe Becky may have been the first one to call me that. I'd been
called both a sissy and a slut by the guys and Jen and Susan. But I'm
fairly sure that Becky was the first to hang that on me like it was a
title.
       Dave did the honors, formally introducing me as Samantha like we
were meeting in a restaurant. Becky looked me up and down, and then asked,
"So what's your real name Samantha?"
       "Samuel, or Sam," I told her, not sure what else to say. I thought
she was gorgeous and wanted to kill Jim and Dave for not telling me she was
coming over.
       "You're cute," she said, using that word I was growing to
loathe. Then she turned to Dave. "Mom and dad are pissed that you didn't
stay for dinner yesterday. And right after you left, a guy dad works with
called to tell him some government guy - he wasn't sure if it was FBI - had
come by to talk to him and had been asking how well he knew dad and if dad
had ever mentioned having a son that was homosexual. Dad thinks you guys
got this apartment just in time."
       That was the first I'd heard that Dave and Jim might be having a
problem or why. They didn't go into it at the moment. There wasn't much
food in their new apartment so Dave gave her some money to go get a sack of
hamburgers. Fast food restaurants weren't all that popular then, but we
were a couple of blocks from a college campus and there were more hamburger
joints than Mexican, Italian, and Oriental restaurants combined. It was
while we were eating that the whole story was explained to me.
	At the time Jim and Dave had first met and decided to become
friends, they were sixteen, the war in Viet Nam had heated up and guys were
burning their draft cards. Dave's dad had made his remark about telling the
draft board they were queer, the two boys had considered it all, and
decided to try sex together. By the time they'd graduated from their
respective high schools and were being called in for their draft physicals,
Jim and Dave had admitted - to each other at least - that they were
somewhere between a 2 and 4 on the Kinsey scale, depending on their access
to each other and the willingness of the local female population. Even when
they'd both had willing girlfriends, they'd also had each other
occasionally and had to admit they enjoyed it. They realized they could no
longer claim that the sex they had together was just something to do until
the real thing came along as they had when they'd started.
       So by the time they went in for their physicals, they'd decided to
take Dave's dad's advice and each had claimed the other as his homosexual
partner. The only down side that either boy could see was that they'd be
denied a security clearance for any government job they might want. Since
neither had ever seen a government agency that impressed them, they were
more than willing to forego being accepted by the government for any
reason, especially the military.
	Their ruse, based in part on fact, had been successful for a couple
of years and instead of being shunned by some of their former classmates
that had learned what they'd done, they'd been envied. Word had spread and
suddenly, instead of taking off for Canada, which could be quite a shock
for someone used to the Arizona desert, there were a whole lot of young men
telling their draft board that they had suddenly found love in the arms of
another man. When that number grew to several times the percentage that
Dr. Kinsey had suggested in his research, the draft board called in
investigators to help determine if they were being duped. The simple way to
make that determination would have been to take the newly avowed
homosexuals into a room, two at a time, tell them to get naked and get
after it, and if either showed reluctance, march them off to prison or the
infantry or whatever. But while the government attracts many simple minded
employees, it never ever tries the simple solution.
	The military way, or the governmental way - there's not much
difference - was to have teams of investigators questioning friends and
neighbors and relatives of the families involved. The governmental
guideline on most issues is, never let one man do the job in thirty minutes
when you can keep a whole task force employed doing the same thing for a
month. Jim and Dave told me that they knew Dave had been under surveillance
for a month or more and that so far, no one seemed interested in Jim. But I
didn't think so.
	I told them that right after I'd started working for Jim that my
mom and dad had asked about him. My dad had asked me if I thought there was
anything `strange' about Jim and my mom had asked me if he had a
girlfriend. At the time, those questions had seemed like the same sort of
questions they'd asked about every new friend I'd had since I was twelve
and I hadn't paid any attention. However, in light of what I'd just
learned, I felt sure someone had asked my folks about Jim.
	All through Jim and Dave's narration about how they'd begun having
sex and why they'd kept it up, Becky had sat silently, watching me and
grinning. When I told them that someone might be checking on Jim too, Becky
came up with an idea. "I think I ought to borrow dad's Polaroid and take a
picture of you two together and send it to them," Becky suggested to
Dave. "They can't wonder if you're queer if they have a picture of you with
a dick up your ass."
	"Yeah," Dave told her. "Good idea. Maybe you could take one of Sami
with a cock in her ass and another in her mouth and she can take it with
her for her physical when they call her."
	Becky turned to me. "Aww, poor baby. Have they been doubling up on
you? They won't do me that way."
	For me, it was `jaw-in-lap' time again. It turned out that Becky
had been on "the pill," the new rage in birth control, with her parent's
approval since her sixteenth birthday and Jim had fucked her several times,
but Dave, as wild as he was, had drawn the line on incest, much like Jen
had done with me. And Dave, bless his heart, was the one that made the next
great suggestion. He told Becky, "If you really want to try it, you could
do Jim and Samantha."
	Becky paused to consider it instead of immediately saying `no' as I
expected and that alone made me wonder if she might really do it. Then, in
lieu of an answer, she asked me, "Have you ever done it with a girl?"
	Dressed as I was, and obviously looking well used by the guys when
she came in, she had every right to think I'd never had any interest in sex
with a girl. I told her I had, but the look on her face said she didn't
believe me, so I began to tell her about the previous morning with Jen and
Susan and by the time I'd finished, since she kept asking for more and more
detail, I'd told her everything, down to how much hair Susan had on her
pubes and how her pee tasted compared to the guys I'd tried.
	When I'd finished my narration, she was staring me in the eye and
asked one question. "You really like eating pussy?" When I assured her I
did and hoped to do it often, she paused for about a count of five, then
said, "Okay, let's do it," and any doubts I might have had about what `it'
was disappeared as fast as her clothing.
	While Becky had been gone to get the burgers and fries, Jim and
Dave had slipped on a pair of shorts, assuring me that Becky wouldn't stay
long after she ate and that as soon as she was gone, we'd finish, and that
other than fixing my hair and makeup, I should stay dressed as I'd been. So
when Becky stripped, Jim and Dave stood and dropped their shorts and that
left me wondering how I was supposed to dress or undress for the
occasion. I wanted to get naked too, so that Becky would think of me more
as a man, but when I began to pull the nightie off, she stopped me.
	"I've never been fucked by a girl," she said, like that explained
everything. For me it only caused confusion.
	Becky seemed to have a lot more experience and knowledge of things
sexual and she'd made her remark as if it were possible for one girl to
fuck another and she just hadn't gotten around to trying that yet. It had
barely been 24 hours since I'd just seen the one and only pussy in my life
but I hadn't seen anything to make me believe it possible for two girls to
fuck. In addition, any time lesbian sex had been mentioned by my
schoolmates, it had always been assumed that the girls were restricted to
using their fingers and/or tongue. However, I could remember one joke about
a lesbian maid that had sawed off a broom stick so she could sweep floors
and dust furniture at the same time. I was still trying to figure all that
out when Becky approached me and put a hand on the front of my panties,
feeling for my prick, and asked, "Whatcha got in there for me sweetie?"
	Within seconds, and before I'd ever be able to come up with an
intelligent reply, she had the answer in her hands. What followed was an
afternoon of sexual bliss. I learned that Becky had been on the pill since
her sixteenth birthday and that Jim had fucked her a few times since
then. It was also far from the only new thing I learned - or tried that
day. All four of us tried some form of doubling up and more. One time I
fucked Becky while her brother fucked me and Jim feed me his cock at the
same time. It was a little too much going on at once to enjoy any of it,
but it was so totally kinky that we had to try it. Before I could cum, Jim
decided to try it too and we swapped off, with him fucking Becky, sucking
my cock, and taking Dave's in the ass. Another time Jim fucked Dave while I
sucked Dave's dick and Becky sucked mine. I thought Susan's pussy had
tasted good, but Becky's was delicious! - Maybe because Jim and I kept
filling it with cum and that had become the `sissy slut's' favorite
flavor. Toward the end of the afternoon, Becky talked about having all
three holes filled but wasn't in a rush to try it. She'd never had a cock
up her ass and it would mean Dave at least letting her blow him, which for
some reason he seemed reluctant to do. But her comment about, "maybe next
time" sure got my attention, especially since she was smiling at me when
she said it.
	The finale of the day was when they put me in the tub and all three
peed on me. That brought up a subject that I'd forgotten about until after
we'd finished and had all tried to shower together. Four people in a tub,
even standing up, can be awfully crowded. But it sure is fun when you're
covered with soap and trying to move around. After drying off, I got the
other pair of panties out of the shopping bag I'd put in Jim's truck with
my other lingerie to bring with me and commented about having to keep them
dry.
	"I don't think Dave keeps panties any more," Becky teased, "But
maybe he'll let you borrow some of his diapers."
	I recalled then that Jim had said that Dave liked to wear diapers
all the time or as often as he could. Yet in the near 24 hours that I'd
been at their apartment, I'd never seen Dave in a diaper or heard a word
about diapers mentioned. One reason might have been that he'd been naked
and otherwise involved for most of that time. For most of his waking
moments during that span of time he'd had his hands full - as well as an
orifice or two - and hadn't had reason to think of anything else he might
enjoy. However, after Becky left, I took the opportunity, since I wasn't
sure if I was expected to stay another night or if Jim might be taking me
home, to ask Dave, "Do you really like to wear diapers like she said?"
	Before Dave could say anything, Jim told me, "You should have been
here the other night. First damn thing he did was put on a diaper and start
wetting it."
	"It wasn't the first thing," Dave said defensively.
	Oh excuse me," Jim countered. "You're right; it wasn't." Then he
turned to me and said, "The first thing he did was set down the box that
had the diapers in it. Then he opened the box. And then he took out some
diapers. And then he put them on and some plastic pants so he wouldn't drip
when he pissed in them. So I guess it was really the third or fourth thing
he did."
	Dave's only response was a muttered, "Funny."
	Then Jim added, "If he hadn't wet them all Friday and Saturday,
he'd be wearing one now."
	"Ass hole," Dave commented. "I washed clothes Sunday morning -
remember?" When Jim didn't say anything, Dave told him. "All that stuff is
clean and I could be wearing one if I wanted."
	I wasn't trying to be a smart aleck. I was really intrigued by the
whole idea of a grown man wearing diapers when I asked him, "So why don't
you?"
	"Why are you so interested?" Dave challenged. "Don't tell me you
want to try that too?"
	I wasn't sure if I wanted to or not. My inclination was to say no,
but it had been in my mind off and on since Jim had suggested, even if he
was joking when he said it, that maybe Dave would put a diaper on me. Maybe
that was why I'd brought up the subject as soon as Becky was gone.
	"Go ahead," Jim urged me. "I know you liked wetting your pants and
Dave told me the other night he had extra diapers and plastic pants if I
wanted to join him. Let him put a diaper on you. You can try wetting it and
then you'll know whether you like it or not. Where else would you get a
chance to try something like that?"
	Everything Jim had said made so much sense that I think I'd have
tried it even if I wasn't interested. Then, after I let Dave diaper me like
I was a little baby, it wasn't the erotic thrill I'd imagined. However that
changed instantly the first time I peed in my diaper and as I continued to
wet it and wear it through the evening, I fell in love with diapers just
like Dave had. In the meantime, I had another problem to contend with.
	Neither of the guys had thought to have the phone installed on
Friday and as a result, when I began to worry about checking in with
Jenifer at home in case my folks might have had a change of plans, I
discovered I'd have to go find a pay phone. Then Jim suggested we make a
run out there. He'd left his muddy work boots, his favorite pair, in the
garage and there were a few other small things he'd forgotten as well. So I
put on a t-shirt and pulled on my shorts over my diaper and plastic pants
and off we went.
	I was happy to see my folks hadn't come home and disappointed that
Susan wasn't there visiting Jenifer. I was standing in the front door,
about to go back to Jim's truck before my sister noticed the way my shorts
bulged, when my mom and dad pulled in the driveway.
	While I thought maybe Jen hadn't noticed that I was wearing a big,
bulky diaper, I knew my mom and dad would. So I waved to them before they
got out of the car, told Jen I had to use the bathroom, and raced through
the house to get out of the diaper and hide it. I didn't bother unpinning
it, just forced the diaper and plastic pants down off my hips, stepped out
of it, tossed the whole thing in the cabinet under the sink, and not
bothering with underwear, pulled my shorts on again and turned to go greet
my folks. Fortunately, before I dashed out the door, I looked in the mirror
and noticed you could see I'd been wearing lipstick and took a moment to
make sure that was fully removed.
	Having since become a parent myself, I can assure you that parents,
especially mothers, are gifted with a sort of radar or sixth sense when it
comes to their children. No matter how innocent the child appears, they
seem to know they've been up to something. My folks were no different and
whatever that talent is, my mom had it in spades. Part of it I'm sure is
that the guilty child tries to act more innocent than usual and my mom saw
through my act in a minute.
	"What have you been up to?" she asked when I jumped to help her
carry some bags instead of waiting to be told to.
	Like most parents, mine believed that as soon as they went out of
town for a few days, I'd plan some sort of party that would result in the
police being called, the neighbors never again speaking to them, to say
nothing of the house being wrecked. For two weeks prior to their leaving,
every time the trip had been mentioned at the dinner table, I'd been
admonished regarding the party they were sure I was planning. So I
sidetracked them with, "Mom, you'll be so proud of the way I got the house
cleaned up and everything repaired after the party."
	My mom looked at me funny, but my dad stopped dead in his
tracks. "I certainly hope you're joking," he said, warily.
	"It's true dad," I told him.  "Jen helped. We even got all the
extra clothes identified and back to the right person after the orgy."
	Jen was shaking her head and trying not to laugh and by now my mom
knew I was pulling her leg but my dad had to keep up his always stern and
serious demeanor by telling me, "If that's your idea of humor these days, I
can only assume it's something you picked up from this job of yours. Good
thing you'll be quitting to go back to school in a few weeks."
	By then he was to the front door so I told him, "Be careful of that
door dad. It got ripped off when the cops broke up the party but I got it
re-hung. I had to use putty in the screw holes and I'm not sure the putty
has set yet."
	He opened the door cautiously, just in case, but after quickly
ascertaining that everything was as they'd left it, he muttered something
about the comic books I'd been reading. "Mad" comics were the rage at my
school, especially among the guys and my folks weren't at all happy to see
me add that to my preferred reading list. However the subterfuge
worked. Mom and Jen began talking about all of my Aunt's latest problems
and how my dad had gotten tired of hearing about them and they'd left a day
early. Dad had busied himself in the kitchen, probably double checking the
trash for beer cans or something equally incriminating. I went to Jen's
room to use the phone in there to call next door to Jim and tell him what
had happened. However, he'd already figured it out for himself, telling me
he'd see me Wednesday morning.
	That left me with no one to talk to about what I thought was the
most important and exciting day of my life. I thought about calling Aaron,
my best friend from school, but remembered he had a summer job working most
afternoons and evenings at his dad's clothing store. I had to wait until
Jen and my mom had finished discussing my Aunts shingles and other problems
and tried to content myself with looking at a new "Hot Rod" magazine that
the postman had delivered that day; another choice of reading material that
my folks frowned on. My folks were sure I'd waste the money I made that
summer on what my dad called a "jalopy" and would often make comments about
hoping I had the good judgment to buy a "sensible" car.
	The trip to Albuquerque took about eight to ten hours, depending on
whether my mom or dad drove. Mom and dad drove the same speed though the
mountains, but on straight flat highway, my mom was much more inclined to
let their big Oldsmobile fly where my dad still drove at the same speed
he'd used to drive through the mountains. Either way, it was a long tiring
trip for them and it wasn't too long before I heard them getting ready for
bed and could talk to Jenifer.
	"I did it!" I proclaimed without any preliminaries, as soon as she
was alone in her room and my folks had shut their bedroom door.
	"Did what?" she asked, like she couldn't guess from the smile on my
face.
	"I did it with a girl. I'm not a virgin any more."
	Why I expected her to be as excited by that news as I was, I have
no idea. However, when I began to give her details, and told her how the
guys had taken turns fucking me as well, and how Becky had enjoyed having
one cock in her pussy while another was in her mouth and that I'd tried the
same thing, with a cock in my mouth and one in my `sissy pussy', Jen got
real interested.
	"Is that why you were wearing a diaper?" she asked.
	"Oh shit! I forgot about that." It may sound strange that I could
have forgotten, or that not having on underwear wouldn't have reminded
me. But I often went without underwear at home after my shower at night and
all my thoughts were still on Becky.
	"So you really were wearing a diaper?"
	I should have guessed she was guessing. She'd noticed the bulge of
my shorts - as thick as Dave had made the diaper it would have been
difficult to miss - but hadn't known for sure why they were bulging. So I
gave her all the background on that, and how Dave had been doing it for
years, and told her about the draft and how that was why the guys had
started living together. Then as her eyes got bigger and bigger, I told her
about all the things we'd done and how I was no longer a virgin in any
way. I was sure she'd want to hear about my opinion of fucking a girl, but
that barely piqued her interest at all. What she wanted to know about was
how I'd felt getting fucked and how exciting had it been to have a cock in
me on both ends. When she seemed to have gotten all she could out of me on
that subject, she shifted gears entirely.
	"How wet is it?"
	"The diaper?" I don't know why I asked. There wasn't much else she
could have meant.
	"Of course the diaper. You said you started wetting it. But you
didn't say how wet it was. Would you have had to take it off if mom and dad
hadn't shown up?"
	"Barely wet. I'd pretty much peed all I had to pee while we were
playing around and when they put the diaper on me, I tried to wet it and I
got some in it, but not much."
	"Put it back on," she told me.
	I had mixed emotions about taking orders from my little sister. But
it was a small price to pay for the things she was helping me
enjoy. Quietly I retrieved the diaper and plastic pants from the bathroom
and once back in her room, took it apart so I could put it on. By that
time, I was used to being naked in front of Jenifer and wasn't at all
modest about using her bed to diaper myself. I tried to do exactly what
Dave had done and must have succeeded on my first try, because when I stood
back up, it didn't fall off.
	"You look cute," Jen told me.
	I knew she meant it as a compliment, but I was getting SO tired of
that `cute' thing I almost screamed. But before I could comment one way or
the other, she added, "And I know what would make it look cuter." Then she
pulled out one of the storage boxes from under her bed, got one of my new
nightgowns, and told me, "Put this on and be real quiet. I'll be right
back."
	I'd bought a new nightie each of the times I'd gone shopping with
Jen and the one she handed me was the shortie that had come with matching
bikini panties. She hadn't handed me the panties because they were too
small for me to wear without the diaper and would have been impossible to
put on over the diaper. However, when Jen returned a couple of minutes
later, she had a pair of my mom's briefs that were yellow, like the
nightie, and just as Jen had imagined, they fit perfect over the diaper and
plastic pants. I'm sure my mom had a gorgeous figure at some point in her
life, but it wasn't within my range of memory. I could remember back to
when Jen had been a baby and it seems like my mom was a big women then and
had gotten bigger. When I had the panties in place, the leg and waist
elastics were barely stretched at all, but they did fit nicely over the
thick diaper.
	"Perfect," she told me, turning me to look at myself in her
mirror. "You gonna jack off?"
	"I guess I could if you really want me to," I told her. "But I
don't need to."
	She laughed. "No, I guess not. Are you going to sleep in that?"
	I hadn't thought that far ahead. If my parents weren't home, I'd
never hesitate. But with them in the house, there was always the chance one
of them would come to my room before I woke up and catch me dressed as
Samantha. So while I might wear panties under my pajamas, when my folks
were home I didn't sleep in a nightie. But . . . . This was a special
case. Somehow I was going to have to wash the diaper and take it to work
with me Wednesday so I could give it back to Dave. That night would be the
only chance I'd have to try sleeping in a diaper and I couldn't see getting
in any more trouble for sleeping in a diaper and nightgown than I'd get
into for just sleeping in a diaper. So I decided to do it.
       "Yeah, I think I'll take a chance and try it," I told Jen. "I'm
gonna have to wash it and take it to work with me so if I don't do it
tonight, I won't get another chance."
       "You gonna wet it some more?"
       "Sure," I said grinning. "Isn't that the whole purpose of wearing a
diaper?"
       "I suppose." Then she patted the bed next to her and told me, "Sit
down and tell me more about Becky. Is she prettier than Susan? I think
Susan really likes you."
       That almost made me laugh. Susan's brother was one of my tormentors
- one of the guys that enjoyed teasing me about being a sissy or a fag. I
could just imagine the look on his face if I were to start dating his
sister. But then my next thought was that maybe that would be a good
idea. He couldn't very well call me a sissy or fag if I was seeing his
sister - as long as she didn't mention seeing me dressed as Samantha. It
was something to think about. In the meantime, I had questions of Jenifer's
to answer and she had a bunch of them. She wasn't satisfied with an answer
like, "It felt good," or, "I liked it." She wanted to know exactly why it
felt good or why I liked it and the more detail the better. I was fast
discovering, in spite of the way they might act at school, that girls were
every bit as interested in sex as boys were and maybe more!
       By the following morning I was hooked. I didn't want to admit it at
the time, but sleeping in that wet diaper and waking up in it in the
morning was an awesome feeling. Every time I took a pee and felt it spread
though my crotch hooked me a little more. I knew I was taking a big chance
keeping that diaper on after I woke up, but it felt so good I couldn't take
it off. Even after I heard my folks up and moving around, I laid in bed
with the covers pulled up to my shoulders so you couldn't see my nightie
and slowly rubbed my swollen cock through the warm, wet, diaper
material. It wasn't until I could smell my mom cooking bacon and knew she'd
be calling me to breakfast soon that I dared to make a dash across the hall
in diaper and nightie to take a shower and hide the things I'd been
wearing.
       That year proved to be almost as good as I'd imagined. It was about
a month before Becky could spend the night at her brother's apartment while
I was there too and it was a repeat in every way of what we'd all done the
first time. At work we acted like there was nothing going on, but after
work I was sucking off Cody almost every night and on weekends, Jim would
visit his parents, pick me up, and I'd spend the rest of the day being a
sex toy for him and Dave. Every second or third weekend, I'd get to spend
Saturday night and when I told the guys how much I'd loved sleeping in that
wet diaper, they made a point to diaper me before bed. Becky wasn't at all
surprised or put off to find me in diapers and Susan's only remark when she
heard I'd done that was that she was sorry she hadn't been there to see me
wear and wet it.
       When school started that fall, I sure missed having the guys to play
with regularly, but it didn't keep me from seeing Cody or Jim and Dave once
a month or so. Dating Susan a few times worked out well for me too. Her
brother actually started treating me decent and dropped all the teasing
about me being a sissy. What made that ironic was that Susan insisted that
I always wear panties when we went out on a date. For her, it was all about
control. If I asked to eat her pussy, it wasn't about to happen. But if she
decided she needed her pussy eaten and told me to do it, she couldn't get
enough. She loved to make me suffer when she sucked me too. She'd tell me I
wasn't supposed to cum, and then give me an awesome blowjob doing her best
to make me disobey her. When she was sure I couldn't hold back another
second, she'd either make me jack off and lick up my cum or let me shoot in
her mouth and then kiss me, feeding me my cum that way. With Susan, I
always swallowed my own cum one way or another. I was sure, as often as she
talked about it, that she'd let me be the first to fuck her, but it didn't
happen.
       The car I bought, a '62 Ford, wasn't much to look at, but it allowed
me the freedom to visit the guys I'd worked with and date regularly and for
that, and to buy gas, I had to get a weekend job and that cut into the time
I had to enjoy my visits to the guys. I was learning that you can't have
everything. I took Becky out a couple of times, but as much as I liked the
sex with her, it was a long drive from my house to where she lived in
Scottsdale and when she began seeing another guy regular, I wasn't too
disappointed.
       One of the big surprises of my senior year of high school was the
interest in Jenifer. There were guys buddying up to me that hadn't spoken
to me before in the hopes of getting to know Jen better. By Christmas of
that year she was wearing a `C' cup bra and I'm sure that had a lot to do
with her increased popularity. She looked like a Barbie doll in a
sweater. Plus, she really was pretty. For me, the nice part was getting all
her old bras that she'd outgrown. At a time when real girls were burning
their bras or going braless, Samantha was learning to wear one and found it
as erotic as wearing panties.
       After high school, I went on to college, which for me, was almost
like more high school. While I wanted to go to one of the schools in
California, pretty much the passion of most of my graduating class, we
couldn't afford it. In fact, if my mom hadn't worked at Grand Canyon
College and gotten a break on the tuition, there's no way my folks could
have afforded to send both me and my sister when she was ready. Grand
Canyon is now a full-fledged University and much bigger than it was
then. When I was there, it was smaller than my high school had been, but I
got a good education that I was able to parlay into a successful business
career.
       Speech classes in high school and then college got me a part-time
job on weekends at a radio station. In college I was a regular disc jockey
on one of the local rock and roll stations and you can imagine how that
helped with my on campus popularity. After college, with nothing else
planned, I was offered a sales job with the station and took it. I'd
already noticed that the disc jockeys drove cars like my old Ford and the
sales department people were driving Oldsmobiles and Cadillacs. It turned
out to be a good fit for me. By the time I retired a few years ago, I was
the owner of seventeen radio stations in four states.
       Samantha went into . . . remission I guess would be the best
word. Between Susan and Becky and the talks with my sister, my shyness
around girls disappeared. By the time I was out of high school, I was more
interested in dating girls than being one. By the time I graduated from
college, I was sure all of that was behind me. I should have known better.
       Jenifer married while she was still a student at Grand Canyon. The
guy she married, Gary, became a naval officer and was stationed in the San
Diego area when I got a job as sales manager for a big station in Long
Beach. Jen had just had her second child and they were both in diapers when
I visited. Her husband was gone so we got into a discussion of my high
school antics and how I'd enjoyed being diapered and wearing lingerie. I
told her I didn't do that any more, but she persisted in talking about it
until I admitted that it might be fun to try again some time. About a month
later, she called me and said Gary would be gone the coming weekend and
wanted me to spend the weekend with her if I could. When I told her I was
seeing someone and that I already had plans, she asked me to bring Willa
with me.
       Willa and Jen got along great and were soon comparing notes about
the men in their lives. I tried to shut Jen up, but when Jen began to tell
Willa how cute I looked when I'd dressed as Samantha, Willa told me to shut
up, that she wanted to hear all about it. It was almost like Jen and Susan
all over again. When Willa got upset about it, it wasn't because I'd done
those things; it was because I'd never done them with her. Good old Jenifer
solved that problem.
       "The last time he was here," Jen told her, "I could see the look in
his eyes when I diapered the kids. I knew he wanted to do it again so I
found him some diapers and plastic pants he could wear and was going to let
him wear them this weekend. I didn't know he'd be bringing a friend."
       "Don't let me stop you," Willa told her. "Go ahead and diaper him. I
want to see it."
       I don't recall that either of them asked what I wanted. Maybe I
wasn't as shy around women, but I was still just as obedient. I'd never
worn diapers at home except for that one night and morning so that had been
all of Jen's involvement where that was concerned and she'd never had a
chance to diaper me.  Within minutes, the ladies had me in diapers and one
of Jen's nightgowns and they were talking to me like they talked to Jen's
two kids. For the rest of the weekend I was baby Samantha. On the drive
home to Long Beach, which I did in diapers, all Willa wanted to talk about
was all the bisexual fun the summer I'd worked for Jim. Constantly she
asked about whether I'd done anything like that since and when I told her
no, she didn't believe me. She said anyone that had enjoyed it as much as I
had would have a need to keep doing it to some extent. So I admitted that I
had thought about it, but I'd always had a girlfriend during the last
several years that had made it unnecessary to seek satisfaction elsewhere,
pointing out that she was a good example. Willa wasn't as wild as Becky,
but few women are, and Willa was a close second.
       By then, we were into the mid-70's and bisexuality was the
rage. When Willa suggested we were missing out and that with my background
I was a natural to become part of the swing scene, I don't guess I was all
that surprised. She'd hinted a time or two that she wouldn't mind going to
one of the parties we'd heard about that had become very popular,
especially in Southern California. At the same time that Sam became the
general manager of the most popular radio station in the LA area, Samantha
became just as popular with the swingers in the area. Finding other
cross-dressing bisexuals to play with in Southern California was about as
hard as finding a loaf of bread at the grocery store. Then, when one of the
`girls' mentioned that she'd almost wet her panties, Willa jokingly told
her that she should wear diapers like Baby Samantha did at home.
       Bingo! As it turned out, the TV that called himself, `Lady Jane'
spent most of his time at home in diapers as Baby Janie. Discrete inquiry
revealed that over twenty-five percent of the `girls' in the area had
enjoyed diapers at some time in their lives or still did and that many of
them pretended to be baby girls except when they were out in public, where
they preferred the role of an adult female.
       It was about that same time that we were at a party and someone
asked why we'd never married. I didn't have an answer and Willa told them
it was because I'd never asked. So I asked. Willa had been married before
but had never given me details on why she wasn't still married. By then
we'd been seeing each other off and on for nearly three years and each time
it seemed we were getting too close, she'd find some reason to break it off
for a while. I took that to mean her first marriage had been a rough one
and she was scared of trying it again and that was why I'd never asked. As
it turned out, her first husband had been killed in a plane accident and
Willa had miscarried the baby when she'd found out, fainted, and fell.
       So we decided on a quickie wedding in Vegas over a three-day
weekend. We drove to Vegas Friday night, got married on Saturday, drove to
Phoenix on Sunday to meet my folks, and drove back to Long Beach on
Monday. I was about as rested up on Tuesday morning as a marathon runner at
mile twenty-five.
       As newly-weds, we decided to buy a house and that allowed us to host
a monthly gathering of `girls' or `baby girls' as the mood hit us. That
lasted a couple of years and then a few things happened in succession that
drove `Samantha' back into the closet.
       First, there was GRID, an acronym for Gay Related Immune Deficiency
and later called AIDS. When guys started dropping like flies in LA and San
Francisco, it was a dagger to the heart of the sexual swing era. Then Willa
had our first child, got religion, and firmly believed that AIDS was God's
punishment for the sexual revolution of the sixties and seventies. From the
wild and wonderful sex life we'd enjoyed, Willa suddenly declared that sex
was to be no more than once a week, missionary position only, and that oral
sex was an abomination in the eyes of God. Since oral sex had been the core
of our sex life, once a week quickly became once a month and at some point
after our second child, I decided why bother at all.
       The third thing was a new disc jockey that I interviewed. "Marvelous
Marv Martin," as he was known on the air, had a great demo tape but when I
talked to him, some of his answers didn't sound right. So I called the
station manager where he'd worked in Northern California and found out that
Marvelous Marv was a speed head and when wired up was likely to say things
that caused libel suits, FCC inquiries, and other problems. Stuff like that
wasn't uncommon in the industry and while the other manager and I consoled
each other with our similar problems, he told me that he actually owned the
station and two others and wanted to sell out. None were big stations but
between the three, he covered almost five-thousand square miles of northern
California. Then, when I found out how much he wanted, I bought them sight
unseen, wiping out my savings and all the stock I'd been buying with the
money I'd been making. When I told Willa we were moving, she told me she
was staying there and to do whatever I wanted. The Jonestown massacre was
still in the news and it sounded to me like this church she'd joined was
another group just like it. Since Willa and her attorney never knew about
the stock I'd amassed, and she didn't give me time to explain about the
stations I bought, I got off lucky. I had to continue to contribute to the
kids, but wasn't too surprised when Willa married her pastor and overjoyed
to be out from under the alimony checks.
       Within ten years I was up to eleven stations in California, Nevada,
and Utah. My twelfth station, and my first in Arizona, was in Prescott and
that's where I met my present wife. Or maybe I should say, re-met my
present wife.
       Whenever I bought a station, I would lease an apartment for 90 days
and put in long hours making the changes I felt needed to be
made. Generally, when a station comes up for sale it's right after ratings
and the station bottoms out. That was true in this case. There were
stations from Phoenix and Flagstaff out-performing the one I bought in
Prescott. While showing the sales staff (all two of them) how to find sales
leads, I was flipping through the business section of the paper where they
have pictures of people recently promoted. I told them that these people
were seldom the buyer, but by calling and congratulating them, they could
begin a conversation, find out who the buyer is for that company, and go
from there. Of the six pictures I opened to as an example, Susan's was the
first.
       I wasn't entirely sure it was her. The last name was different and
twenty some years had wrought some changes, but it looked enough like her
to noticeably stun me. So with the other two listening, I called her at the
bank where she'd been made a vice-president, identified myself as being
with the radio station without mentioning my last name, and congratulated
her on her promotion. As soon as I heard her voice, I knew it was the same
Susan that had been my sister's friend and the first girl to show me her
pussy, many years past. Without telling her who I was, I managed to find
out that she was the one that bought advertising for the local bank
branch. As it turned out, the station had been using that bank for years
and had never sold them a dimes worth of advertising. So I made an
appointment to see her myself and I wish I'd had a photo of the look on her
face when her secretary showed me into her office.
       She too had been married and divorced after having two kids and
putting herself through school at Northern Arizona University in
Flagstaff. She'd gotten into banking after getting her degree and getting
rid of her husband. It turned out the bank was owned by the same bank she'd
started with in Flagstaff and within a year, I had a new wife and another
new station in Flagstaff.
       Now before you think that we took up right where we'd left off in
Jenifer's bedroom, let me tell you we didn't. Sure, we had sex on the first
date. We both knew that was going to happen five seconds after I entered
her office. I might have known sooner, but it took that long to be sure she
wasn't wearing wedding rings. As soon as she realized I was trying to see
her ring finger, she held her hand up in front of me and began laughing.
       "Is this what you wanted to see?" she asked.
       "It's a start. It looks like you still have a fantastic figure."
       She laughed again. "Same old Sam. My figure is fine until I take my
clothes off."
       I know I blushed when I realized that this was supposed to be a
business call, her secretary might still be standing behind me, and we were
already talking about her with her clothes off. Without thinking, I told
her, "We'll see about that." I'd meant it as a compliment.
       She just gave me a wicked smile and told me, "Pretty sure of
yourself aren't you?"
       She'd lost contact with Jenifer years before, right after she'd
married and moved to Flagstaff and Jen had begun moving around with Gary
and his Navy career. So I brought her up to date on that and took her to
lunch and the following evening, took her to bed. We began dating steadily,
got married, and it was her idea for me to take flying lessons and buy a
plane to travel between all the stations so I wasn't spending so much time
driving around.
       It was the airplane, actually my second that got me back in diapers
again. I mentioned that I needed to get a relief tube installed on the
Bonanza as I couldn't just pull over to a convenient shrub like I could do
if I was on the road and needed to pee.
       "You told me you're ex used to put you in diapers. Why not try that
again?"
       I studied her a moment to see if she was serious. "You think I
should? I asked, hedging.
       "Sam," she said, putting her hand on my shoulder. "The first night
we slept together back in Prescott you asked me to pee for you. You were
back in lingerie full time before we got married. You've slept in a nightie
every night since our honeymoon. I've got to believe, after all you've told
me about the things you did that summer in high school and while you were
married to Willa that you at least think about wearing diapers. And you
always lick your cum out of me when we have sex. Don't try to make me
believe you never think about sucking cocks any more. Shit your eyes glaze
over every time I wave that big dildo at you. If that's what you want to
do, then I want you to do it. Life's too short to not enjoy it all that you
can."
       We'd joked about my past experiences in diapers several times, and
to be honest about it, I think maybe I'd hoped each time the subject had
come up that she'd suggest we try it. However this time she caught me by
surprise with her suggestion that I wear diapers because my new plane had a
longer range than my bladder. Then for her to add in her approval of
finding a cock to suck . . . I suppose I stood there for a full minute with
my mouth half open and nothing coming out. My mind was spinning and my jaw
couldn't catch up. I must have looked pretty silly because after a moment,
Susan began laughing at me. That at least got a reaction from me.
       "Are you serious?" I asked incredulously.
       "Of course I am. I'll bet if we go on line we can find guys just
like you here. Maybe we can find your old friends that you worked for. You
told me how much that one guy liked to wear diapers. I'll bet he's still
doing it and probably still in the Phoenix area."
       "Dave," I told her. "His name was Dave and you might be right." So
we sat down at the computer and went on line and the rest, as they say, is
history. I found several interesting web sites and groups of people into
diapers and pee play and cross-dressing and eventually made contact with
several into all of it. Susan helped me to screen the list as she had every
intention of joining me for any meeting that became sexual. It was through
one of those groups that I met Amber and several years later, when a large
corporation bought my chain of radio stations to add to there growing
market, Susan and I flew to San Antonio to sign the papers and spend the
weekend with Amber as our tour guide. We didn't need to do that, but with
the money we got for those stations, we retired on the spot.
       It was during that first meeting that Amber heard parts of this
story and suggested I should share it. When he came out to Phoenix last
fall, Susan and I spent a couple of nights with him and this story is the
result. Amber kept sticking this little recorder in my face when I would
much rather have had her cute little `clitty'. But she wouldn't let me do
that until I'd told the whole story and Susan wasn't much help, reminding
me of things when I was trying to get done as quick as possible. They both
urged me to go into more detail about the parties we had when I was with
Willa, but that will have to wait for Amber's next visit.


	 That concludes the "Old Fruit Jar" series. While I have every
intention of visiting with Samantha and Susan again next fall, and they've
indicated they might come here late this spring, the material from Sam's
time with Willa will more than likely be used as the basis for a work of
fiction. Most all of my fiction stories are based on real life incidents of
my own or of people I've met. I hope you've enjoyed this one.
Amber_fountaine@hotmail.com