Date: Sun, 12 Mar 2006 18:05:55 -0600
From: Amber Fountaine <amber_fountaine@hotmail.com>
Subject: California Dreamin', Part One

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. The characters
in these stories are fictional, but are based on the author's true
experiences, as well as the experiences of others he has met.


                             California Dreamin'
                            (Bisexual, Urination)
                             by Amber Fountaine

                                 Part One


	Marge was burned out on the whole Vegas scene. The money was good and the
sex had been great - even awesome at times - but there really was too much
of a good thing. A woman hitting 30 begins to wonder what will happen when
the tits start to sag and the boss finds a favorite new play toy.

	In her nine year stay, that had started as a spring break vacation
from college and had turned into a lucrative career dealing cards and
entertaining the bosses preferred customers, meaning the wealthiest ones,
Marge had done all right for herself. Her car was new and paid for. She had
a few pieces of jewelry in the hotel safe that were very expensive, and she
had more money in her bank account than her dad made in two years. A year
ago she'd thought she was on top of the world. Then a short time back she'd
turned 30 and every day since then, the glow of the Vegas nightlife had
gotten a little dimmer in her eyes. Maybe it wasn't too late to put a career
in New York back into her dreams.

	Like a lot of the students at Canoga High School in Orange, County,
California, Marge - everyone called her Margie back then - had dreamed of
living and working in the world famous, 'Big Apple'. It must have had
something to do with youth and the, 'grass is greener' theory. East Coast
kids wanted to move west. West Coast kids wanted to move east. And anyone
under the age of 25 that lived in between just wanted to move.

	Dating a boy genius her junior and senior year of high school had raised
her grade point average as well as her SAT score. Then one of the smaller
University of California campuses had received a huge gift from a former
student, an endowment to start a School of Marketing and Marge was able to
get in, books and tuition paid. She wasn't all that interested in marketing,
having discovered she loved design and art, but everyone knew that the only
New York career that was harder to break into than advertising was interior
design. At least everyone at CHS had seemed to think so.

	As a result, Marge had majored in marketing and minored in art and
design and had lasted all of three years. She often wondered where she'd
have been now if she and Misty hadn't gotten horny for each other in that
hotel elevator.

	She and Misty Carter had been as close as two roommates could be. In
addition to sharing the same dorm room, they shared clothing, boyfriends and
usually, the same bed. They also shared the same perversion - a love of piss
play - which was one reason why they shared the same bed. They'd found a
plastic coated hospital mattress that they used to replace the one on
Marge's bed. They'd used Marge's bed for wet nights and Misty's bed when
they wanted to stay dry.

	Of course they'd eventually been discovered, and had even had a few
of the other girls in the dorm ask to join them, at least for a one-time
experience. The rest of the girls overlooked it and nobody thought to
complain or say anything to the school officials. Marge often wondered if it
would have been that way in any other state.

	Then she and Misty had gone on spring break together, deciding on a week in
Las Vegas. Neither of them had ever been there. Misty had just turned 21 and
they were looking for something to do that they'd previously been too young
to enjoy. The second night there, they'd gotten aroused watching a floor
show of cross dressed men, attired as show girls, and had gone back to their
hotel for a night of passionate sex. Not being able to wait a moment longer,
they'd begun in the hotel elevator, kissing and fondling each other's
breasts and promising that they were going to drown each other in hot pee
and then lick off every drop!

	By the time the girls were naked and fulfilling their promises, a copy of
the tape the security people had made of the two girls in the elevator was
on the desk of Henry 'Hen' Miller, the hotel owner.

      Someone had discovered years ago that people out to cheat the Vegas
casinos almost always were small time amateurs that worked in pairs, and
would often make last minute confirmations of their plans while riding down
to casino level in the elevators. As a result, there was a security camera
and microphone discreetly hidden in all of the elevators in Hen Miller's
hotels. They'd caught but a few cheaters that way, but had also found some
really great talent, like Misty and Marge, because of those cameras.

	The following day, Hen had 'just happened' to run into the girls, engaged
them in conversation, told them he owned the hotel and a few others, and
asked what had brought them to Vegas, though he already knew. The desk had
made a copy of their driver's licenses so he knew Marge's birthday had been
last December and that Misty's was the previous Friday. Yet he acted
surprised when they told him they were there to celebrate Misty's birthday
and spring break and being the nice man that he assured them he was, he
offered them a VIP suite for the rest of the week at the same rate they were
paying for their single room.

	"I'd give it to you for free, but someone has to pay for the maids to clean
up. Ladies always love big bathrooms and you girls will go nuts when you see
how big this one is. It's even got a heart shaped bathtub that doubles as a
hot tub. You probably think I'm crazy, but a couple of beauties like you two
are gonna find rich boyfriends and husbands and this is the place you're
gonna want them to take you back to."

	The girls never heard his explanation concerning their future after he
mentioned the bathroom. What a coincidence that their favorite place to play
was in the bathroom. The girls had had a ball! And not just with each other.
They'd let a couple of guys pick them up, take them to a show, and then the
girls had taken the guys back to their room for an even better show, sharing
the two men in an evening of debauchery that they could have never had on
campus. And when the hotel owner had invited the girls to join him for
dinner on their last evening, they still never suspected a thing. Their
first inkling of the truth had come when one of the men they'd shared had
turned out to be an assistant to Hen Miller. It had become completely clear
to them - clear as in big screen TV clear - when Hen had played the tape
compilation for them while they ate. It started with the elevator scene and
ended with the orgy they'd had in the suite.

	"You planning to blackmail us?" Marge had asked as soon as she saw the tape
playing.

	"I doubt he's after money," Misty had said while watching herself on the
TV, drinking Marge's pee in the hot tub, and that had proven to be only
partially true. Hen Miller was always after money.

	Of course he'd laughed and acted like he had no such intention, even giving
the videotape to the girls. "I just love to watch beautiful young women like
you girls enjoy yourselves," he told them, adding, "And so do some of my
business associates." It had been clear where he was going and it got
clearer yet when he'd told them, "You girls are out of school in a couple of
months and I'd like to hire you two for the summer."

	"What would we have to do?" Misty had wanted to know.

	Hen had given them his most dazzling smile and answered, "Nothing you don't
like to do already. Think about it and let me know."

	They'd thought about it. And every night they'd talked about it. And
sometimes they'd watched the tape and wondered how many others had seen it
and if there was really only the one copy. They'd both doubted it. They'd
just about decided against working for Hen when the huge arrangement of
flowers had been delivered to the dorm with a note calling them the 'Two
most gorgeous ladies to ever hit Vegas', causing the other girls in the dorm
to speculate as to what Marge and Misty might have done to receive such
accolades. That had swayed them considerably. Hen had won them over when
he'd offered to send his jet for them if they wanted to come back Easter
weekend and then had sweetened the deal by telling them that they'd have a
comp room in the hotel while they worked for him. He didn't mention he'd be
taking a couple hundred a week out of what he planned to pay them to cover
the room.

	The last day of classes for the semester had been a Wednesday and by
Friday, Misty and Marge had a new address on Las Vegas Boulevard. At the end
of the summer, Misty had gone back to school and Marge hadn't. She
eventually got a place of her own, but still worked mostly for Hen Miller,
as she had for the last nine years.

	Even the bad times hadn't been all that bad. They'd given her a panic
button to use in case one of the people she was supposed to entertain got
too carried away or too kinky or too upset when he or she discovered just
how much money they had lost. Part of Marge's job was to keep the customer
so distracted that they'd dropped a bundle before they realized it.

	Most of the first summer had been her and Misty putting on a show for
whatever big spender Hen wanted entertained in an unconventional manner.
They'd strip to their panties, wet the panties and each other, rip the
panties off and 69 for a while, fake monstrous orgasms, and excuse
themselves. Those shows always took place in a private suite. Afterwards,
she and Misty would go back to their room, do nearly the same thing without
an audience and this time the orgasms weren't faked.

	After Misty went back to school, Hen found her a string of substitutes but
none of them were really into piss play like Misty and it was easy to tell
they didn't like it. She'd been about to quit but Hen had persuaded her not
to, telling her someone would turn up and in the meantime, he'd send her to
school to learn how to be a dealer.

	That had been a lot more to her liking. Apparently the acrobatic skills
that had gotten her onto her high school cheer squad extended all the way to
her fingertips. She'd expected to be one of the ones that were assigned to
deal Black Jack from a box, where there was no particular skill involved.
Instead she'd been tops in her class and immediately Hen had put her back to
work for his special parties. It might start out as a private card game in
one of the suites, but it often became an orgy before the evening was over.
He'd even had a distinctive uniform made for her. It looked just like the
uniform that the other female dealers in the casino wore, but the blouse was
much sheerer so that her locally famous nipples were visible.

	While her breasts were average in size, she had very unique nipples. They
were just over half an inch long and almost as big in diameter. And when
they hardened, they grew to nearly an inch in length. And as if that wasn't
enough to contend with while growing up, she had a clitoris that was the
size of the head of a young boys prick. Her friends in high school had
nicknamed her 'Nubby'. No telling what the girls that weren't her friends
might have called her. She'd been ashamed of her body for most of her teen
years and it wasn't until she met a boy named Dennis that she began to feel
comfortable being naked in front of a boy.

	Of course her brother hadn't helped by insinuating that she should have
been a boy. And when she'd tried to give her virginity to a boy she'd been
dating and he saw the size of her clit, he'd called her a 'morpho-dyke'. She
knew he meant 'hermaphrodite' and she shouldn't have let someone that dumb
bother her, but it had. It wasn't every day a girl gave up her virginity and
it had been a special moment in her life, ruined on her first attempt by a
dumb ass jock.

	Her only real friend back then had been Connie. Connie had helped her
discover the fun of girl-girl sex and piss play. She'd also convinced her to
quit dating all the dumb-ass jocks and find her a sissy that liked to suck
cock, but liked girls too. "He'll love your clitty as much as I do," Connie
had assured her. It turned out Connie had been amazingly perceptive. A boy
in her Art class had fit that bill perfectly.

	Not only was he kind, considerate, and horribly shy at first around girls,
he was also one of the smartest boys in the school. It had taken her a while
to adjust to seeing a boy so completely different than what she was used to,
but once the adjustment was made, they'd fallen madly in love, as only teens
can do. He'd become her scholastic tutor while she'd taught him things he'd
never heard of for pleasing a woman - and sometimes two - in bed. Then she'd
broken his heart when she laughed at his marriage proposal.

	His grandmother had willed him her wedding rings, for when he found the
right girl, and he'd proposed to her the night of their senior prom. They'd
talked about maybe getting married someday, but Marge had never taken it too
serious. Apparently Dennis had. When he'd gotten down on one knee like in
the movies and proposed, she thought it was a joke and had laughed. She'd
never intended to hurt him, but her laughter had crushed him. They'd both
tried to laugh it off and go on with their relationship, but it was never
the same. She went off to college and Dennis couldn't. His dad had gone
bankrupt and by the time Dennis realized he'd need to get a scholarship, it
was too late to apply for one for that year.

	He'd stayed in town, worked a few jobs with his dad while he applied for
every scholarship and tuition assistance program he could find, and they'd
seen each other a few times when Marge was home. Then she'd made another
mistake. He was over at her house and they were talking about their futures.
Dennis, feeling depressed and sorry for himself, had commented that he
really didn't have a future. So Marge had jokingly suggested he join the
service like her brother had done. Then she'd teased him about probably not
getting in because he was a sissy, but added that if he could sneak by
whoever was supposed to weed out fags like him, that he'd have an unlimited
supply of cocks to suck.

	She'd been teasing in a way they often had done, going back to their first
sexual adventures together. She'd call him a queer, he'd call her a lesbian,
and then they'd jump in bed and make liars of each other. But this time her
teasing had hit a nerve and he'd stormed out.

	Next thing she heard was that he'd gone in the Marines and had gotten out
of training just in time to be in with the first bunch of Marines sent to
Desert Storm. She never heard from him again after that. His parents moved
and she lost contact with them too. One neighbor said she thought they'd
moved to Oregon and another thought they'd gone to Georgia. Misty's opinion,
after hearing the story from Marge, was that he was still so heartbroken
that he'd gone off to war and had gotten killed trying to be a hero. She
hadn't wanted to believe that, but had made a point to go over every list of
servicemen that had been killed or injured in the war. Since she couldn't
find his name listed anywhere, she assumed he was okay, but had no idea
where he'd gone or what he'd done and she considered that chapter of her
life to be closed.

	But that didn't mean she couldn't go back to the same area. She really
missed the scenery there. Vegas was in the desert and surrounded by
mountains. But to her, they were big, brown mountains, not the forested
green mountains not far from where she'd lived. And the area further south,
closer to where she'd gone to college, was even prettier. For that matter,
she hadn't completely forgotten about her desire to head east. Maybe she
should consider New York - or something up that way. A friend of Hen's had
been telling her for years that if she ever wanted a job in Atlantic City,
all she had to do was call. It would be a change and she could easily visit
New York City from there and decide for herself if the famous 'Big Apple'
was right for her.

	She was thinking those thoughts as she walked through the casino on the way
out to go home and happened to hear two couples talking in a loud Yankee
accent. She paused for a moment to listen and wondered if she could stand
hearing people talk that way all day every day. Probably not, she thought
with a smile, but who knows for sure. East coast, West coast, what
difference did it make as long as she made a move. If she didn't find a good
reason pretty soon, she'd have to invent one. Then she got some help from a
very unexpected source.

	She was almost to the exit door when she heard a woman holler, "Margie!
Margie Bradley!"

	She almost didn't want to turn around. She hadn't been called Margie by
anyone since high school. Her real name was Margaret and her parents had
nicknamed her Margie back before she could remember. Sometime during her
senior year of high school she'd come to the conclusion that Margie was too
immature. She didn't like Margaret that much either and had settled on
having everyone call her Marge. Her high school friends had never adapted,
but everyone she'd met in college and in Vegas knew her as Marge. So without
turning to look, she knew it had to be someone from high school. If it had
been a male voice, she might not have stopped at all, but since it was
female, she took a chance and turned around.

	"Oh my God! I knew it was you! I told Les, 'Les, that's Margie Bradley!
Remember her from Canoga?' He wasn't sure but I was so I had to holler at
you."

	"Hi. How are you doing," Marge told them politely as she shook hands and
tried like hell to think of who they were.

	"You look SO GOOD!" the woman continued. "I'll bet you can still wear your
old cheerleader outfit."

	Then, at the same time that the woman was telling Marge that she still had
her Band Majorette uniform but could 'never EVER' fit in it again, it hit
Marge who they were. The guy had been one of Dennis's geek group friends - a
very close one - and the woman had been Daphne . . . . something. She
probably wouldn't have remembered her first name if it wasn't for her
nickname. She was generally referred to as 'Daffy' and as Marge recalled,
would probably have been called that if her name had been Betty or Sue.
Marge had never been sure if Daffy had been given the nickname for being so
air-headed or had been given the name and then tried to live up to it.
Either way, it had fit.

	"We were just going to eat," Lester told Marge, then asked, "If you don't
have other plans, would you like to join us?"

	Marge really had no desire to spend an hour listening to Daffy, but she
would like to talk to Lester. So with trepidation and more enthusiasm than
she felt, she told him, "I'd love to. I'm off for the day - just picking up
some things I left in my office." It wasn't too much of an exaggeration. She
did have an office and didn't feel she had to explain she shared it with two
other women. There were several men and women that held the same title as
Marge did, "Assistant Manager - Casino Operations". She even had a card to
prove it and when Daffy asked, almost in shock, "You WORK here?" Marge had
reached in her purse to give her one of the cards.

	Daffy was impressed with the card and handed it to Lester, who also seemed
impressed and made an accurate deduction, "I'm assuming that in a place that
goes 24 hours a day, that there must be more than one 'Assistant Manager' or
you'd never get any time off."

	"True. But we're all on call, so the hours can be crazy." She wasn't
supposed to use her privileges to entertain her personal friends, but,
subconsciously at least, she'd made up her mind to quit and she wasn't
concerned about a possible ass-chewing. She told them, "If you don't mind
the food here, I can get it comped for you."

	Lester smiled at her and handed her one of his cards, telling her, "We do
all of your advertising. Our whole weekend has been comped, including the
food. We were on the way to try the dining room when Daphne spotted you."

	Marge glanced at the card and knew immediately who Lester was with. One of
the people that Marge had 'entertained' several times at Hen's request was
the head of one of the largest ad agencies on the West coast. And according
to Lester's card, Lester was the VP in charge of buying for that agency.
That would account for why Lester had never been with the group that came to
visit with Hen two or three times a year. They were all from the creative
side of the house and were usually discussing how they intended to promote
Hen's properties. Aaron Micklemann was the senior partner and the main man
in the group and any time he was in town, Marge's duties were to keep
'Mickey' happy. Marge wondered if Lester was aware of how big a pervert his
boss was - and then she wondered with amusement if that might be how he got
his job. They did have that in common, assuming Lester was still into pee
play and swung both ways.

	"Well let's go then!" Marge told them, her mind racing. She could see
getting a few days off to schmooze a person in Lester's position as well
within her area of responsibility. Instead of an ass-chewing, she might get
an 'attaboy' for showing the initiative. Besides, there were a few things
she'd like to ask him about. "So how long are y'all here for?" she began as
she led them to the dining room.

	"You gonna tell her or should I?" Daffy gushed to Lester.

	Lester smile, almost blushed, and told Marge, "We just got married."

	"Well congratulations! You get hitched here in Vegas?"

	They both nodded and swelled with a mix of pride and embarrassment.
"Yesterday," Daffy answered. "Les promised me a nice long honeymoon in a
month or two. He has to be back at work Monday."

	"So you've been dating all this time - or what?" Marge asked as she steered
them around the waiting line to an unmarked side door of the dining room.

	Again Daffy jumped in with the information. "We hadn't seen each other
until the reunion last summer. You should have been there. It was SO the
place to be."

	"Yeah, I SO wanted to be there. But I had to work," Marge replied. She knew
she was being sarcastic and regretted it as soon as the words were out of
her mouth. But she needn't have worried. It went right over Daffy's head.
Lester caught it and was trying not to smile. Then she told them, "You can
go through the buffet or if you know what you want, I can have a waitress
bring it for you."

	"Oh I want to see what all they have. This is awesome!" Daffy made for the
first of the six buffet lines and Marge thought she'd have a moment or two
to talk privately with Lester, but before Daffy had taken more than a dozen
steps, she turned back and hollered, "C'mon Les! I can't decide if I want to
start with Chinese or Mexican or Seafood or what!"

	Marge gave up her effort to steer Lester to a table for a quick, private
conversation. She let go of Lester's arm, pointing at the area where she'd
grab a table, telling him, "We'll talk later." She could tell he was as
anxious as she was to talk together out of Daffy's earshot, although she
expected his desire was a concern she might mention something about their
high school escapades that he didn't want Daffy to know about - like their
common interest in Dennis Benson.

	Dennis had never gone out with another girl after he started dating Margie.
But he hadn't given up his interest in sex with Lester either and he'd never
tried to keep that a secret. In fact, he'd hidden Margie in his bedroom
closet numerous times for more than a year so that Margie could watch the
two boys in action. In Marge's opinion, if they'd been having a contest,
there'd been no clear-cut winner. Both boys had really loved to suck cock.

	Dennis had also been aware that she'd been equally as active with her
next-door neighbor, Connie. Not only had Connie been present the first time
Marge had sex with Dennis, Connie had helped, supplying the condoms they'd
used and more. She'd been the one to rubber Dennis up and then had guided
his cock when it entered her. For twenty-four hours straight, napping only
briefly, the trio had sucked and fucked, pissed and played in it, worn
diapers, wet the bed, and dressed Dennis as 'Denise'. It had been the first
of many similar weekends over the next year and a half. A few months before
graduation, Connie had broken up with Jon, her very straight boyfriend, and
they'd recruited an extremely willing Lester to join them several times for
a four-some.

	At first, Lester had been upset to discover Marge had been watching him and
Dennis for over a year, but got over that in a helluva hurry when he found
out he was being asked to join Dennis, Margie and Connie in one of their wet
weekend romps. Dennis and Lester had been as eager to enjoy piss play
together as Marge and Connie had been and both sets of teens had been doing
it for a while before Margie and Dennis connected and discovered it was a
mutual interest. In addition, Connie had taught Margie the pleasure of
wearing and wetting diapers and Margie had shown an eager Dennis a new way
to enjoy wetting himself. Dennis, in turn, had passed the knowledge along to
his piss partner, Lester. It seemed only right and natural that the four
teens had eventually done it all together.

	In college, Marge's roomie the first year had been a senior prude. But the
freshman assigned to her the following year had been a perfect fit. Marge
had worn diapers several times with her roommate Misty. Misty was every bit
as agreeable to piss play as Connie had been, but didn't like wetting
diapers. So Marge had eventually given them up and hadn't worn a diaper in
many years. But she could remember how excited a wet diaper had made Lester
and wondered if he still wore them and if Daffy was aware. She doubted it,
but who knows? One thing she'd learned in Vegas was that the most unusual
sex preferences and fetishes came from people that appeared the most normal
in every other way. It was the women that looked like prim librarians that
were the most likely to want to take on the whole chorus line of male
dancers at Chippendale's.

	Their waitress had Marge's plate of food in front of her at the same time
that Lester and Daffy got to the table with theirs. They'd almost finished
eating when Lester couldn't hold back any longer and asked, as casually as
possible, "So do you still hear from Dennis?"

	"Yeah, what did you do with him?" Daffy added. "You two were the only ones
that didn't come to the reunion. EVERYBODY else was there and we all assumed
you two had run off somewhere together. Is he here with you?"

	Marge seriously doubted that out of a graduating class of over five
hundred, that she and Dennis were the only two that didn't show up, but she
let that pass. "No, I haven't seen him since he joined the Marines. We sort
of broke up about the time we graduated, but we saw each other until he went
in the service. Then his folks moved right after that and I never heard from
him again." She wasn't sure if Daffy knew how close the boys had been, so
she tried to sound equally as casual when she asked Lester, "How about you?
I thought maybe you or one of the other guys in the 'geek group' might have
heard from him."

	"I got a couple of Christmas cards. The last was four, five years ago at my
parent's house and it was from an Air Force base in Germany. But no note
about how he was or what he was doing or anything."

	"I told Les I thought he was in the hospital or something. They always sent
guys that got hurt in that area to some big Army hospital in Germany."

	Lester was softly shaking his head as Daffy spoke. "No. I don't think he
was still in the service when he sent it."

	Marge could tell the subject was making Lester nervous, so she helped him
out. "So what about the rest of your friends in the geek group. Are they all
rocket scientists?"

	After he quit laughing, Lester told her, "One. David works for NASA. He's
scheduled for a shuttle mission sometime next year and thinks he'll be one
of the first crew stationed on the space station. Most all the rest moved
north to the Silicon Valley after they got out of college. Except ol' Roger.
He hasn't changed a lick - and I didn't mean that as a pun."

	Marge couldn't help but laugh. "The one that was always campaigning for gay
rights and ran for Student Council President?"

	"The same," Lester told her. "He wasn't there either, but Frank said that
Roger had gone to Berkley, got a law degree, hooked up with a big law firm
in San Francisco, and was a State Representative in Sacramento. Even as we
speak, he's campaigning for congress. He started some sort of an 'Aids for
AIDS' program in the state and now wants to make it a national program."

	"He'll probably make it," Marge opined. "He was always pretty far out there
with some of his ideas, but he was persuasive as hell. He got the school to
have an AIDS awareness day and the whole cheer squad to wear pink ribbons to
school that day." That reminded her of something else. One of the male
members of the cheer squad had also been involved in some of their teenage
sexual adventures. "What about Taylor King? Was he there at the reunion?"

	"No!" Daffy jumped in. "He wasn't. And one of my girl friends thinks your
old boy friend is the reason. She thinks Taylor and your boyfriend were
getting it on behind your back and that it was probably Taylor that Dennis
disappeared with."

	Marge wondered if there might be some truth to that. She had been
responsible for getting Taylor and Dennis together for the first time. And
Dennis had never tried to hide his ongoing relationship with Taylor after
that. She didn't know if Lester had ever joined them, but she did know that
Dennis had sex with both Lester and Taylor the whole time he'd been having
sex with her. From the uneasy look on Lester's face, she had to assume that
there'd been a time or two when all three boys had gotten together. She
decided to bail out Lester again.

	"I think your friend has an overactive imagination," she told Daffy.
"That's how rumors get started. Taylor and Dennis got to know each other
from a class they shared and Taylor was the one that got Dennis and I
together."

	Daffy wasn't about to give up on her friend's theory that easy. "I was in
Art class with you and you two sat together. I thought that's how you and
Dennis got together."

	She thought about that, trying to recall Daffy being in the class and
couldn't. In fact, she couldn't recall any students other than Dennis.
"True. That's how I got to know Dennis. But Taylor was the guy that talked
me into going out with Dennis and he convinced Dennis he should ask me out."

	It was far from the truth - almost completely backwards in fact. But she
was sure if Lester, who probably knew the whole true story, had wanted to
share it with Daffy, they would be talking about that, and not speculating.

	Lester had reached his limit of old school talk. "I don't know about the
rest of you, but I'm ready for dessert!"

	Daffy looked at Marge and blushed like the newlywed she was, "I think that
means he wants to go back to our room."


				         *    *    *



	Dennis set the book down, scratched the dog's head, and closed his eyes to
think. Sometimes it seemed to him that his uncle gave him jobs that no one
else wanted, like his current assignment: writing a book. And not just any
book - that might be too easy. He had to write a tech manual for
non-techies. On top of that, when he finished, he was supposed to reduce it
to a flow chart that could be put on a disc. The idea was that any computer
operator could put in the CD, follow the flow chart, and use their computer
to fix their computer or accessories - assuming of course that the computer
would run at all.

	Dennis had to admit it was a good idea, and no matter how boring he might
find one of his uncle's assignments, every one had turned up a serendipitous
escapade of the bedroom variety. This latest task looked like it would turn
out that way too.

	He let his thoughts drift to his chance meeting yesterday afternoon at the
drug store.

	One thing Dennis appreciated about his uncle was his love of the outdoors.
His uncle had been one of the pioneers in the computer industry and had made
millions. He'd used those millions to buy getaway cabins in several
locations, usually within an hour or two drive of one of his offices, and
Dennis loved to use them whenever he had a chance. So when his uncle had
given him the present assignment and told him to, 'go up to the log cabin
and think about it,' Dennis had taken the job before his uncle could change
his mind about the cabin caveat.

	The closest neighbor was over five miles and the closest town nearly
twenty. His uncle wrote the cabin off as a think tank for his employees and
isolation was intentional. That meant Dennis was free to enjoy his favorite
fetish of wearing and wetting his diapers without having to change for work.

	For just over a dozen years, Dennis had diapered himself at every
opportunity, often wetting that diaper before he had it pinned or taped in
place. He often wore cloth diapers at home, loving the thickness and
carrying capacity of the custom made diapers. But away from home he
preferred to use disposables, either two at a time or one diaper stuffed
with the largest pad available. That added bulk and allowed him to wear and
wet them longer. Dennis worked out of his uncle's Salt Lake City office; for
some reason he'd never liked the Silicon Valley area. He'd packed in a
hurry, deciding to pick up supplies on the way, forgetting there were few
places he could stop at enroute and that they'd be closed before he got
there. As a result, he'd had to double back the next morning to get
breakfast and do his shopping.

	After stocking up on enough food for at least a week - there was additional
snow forecast for the area - he'd gone to the drugstore to see what they had
in the way of adult diapers. He'd been wandering around, looking for the
right aisle when he'd come up on a couple, standing in front of the adult
diapers and discussing their needs.

	"Georgie," the woman had said to the man, "You wee-wee way too much to wear
those little panty type pull-ups. You need to wear some of these thicker
ones that say 'For Maximum Protection'. I don't mind babying you, but I'm
not gonna change your wet diapers ten times a day."

	"You don't have to change me," he'd told her in a much softer voice than
she was usuing. "I don't mind being wet."

	"I know you don't mind being wet, sweetie. You LOVE being wet. But I still
think these overnight diapers here are the way to go."

	There had been a big display of Valentine products that had allowed Dennis
to get close enough to hear them without their realizing he was right behind
them. When he'd stepped out from around the display, they'd both been
startled and the poor guy had jumped a foot.

	"I'm sorry," Dennis had apologized. "I didn't mean to scare you and I had
no intention of eavesdropping on your conversation. But I'm glad I did. I've
been wearing these things for years and I can give you some advice."

	The woman had had her hand on the same type and brand of diaper that Dennis
used, so he'd pulled a bag off the shelf and told the guy, "She's right. If
you like to wet as much as I do, you need to wear these, and . ." He'd
reached past the guy to where the pads were stocked and pulled out a large
bag adding, "Some of these." Then he'd explained, "If you put one of these,"
holding up the bag of pads, "inside one of those diapers, it's almost as
good as a thick cloth diaper and it swells up to where it feels a lot like
one too."

	He'd enjoyed watching the two of them stare at him, speechless, and was
equally amazed that he'd been so brazen about what he usually kept a deep
dark secret. At that point, he would have been content to walk off to make
his purchases if the woman hadn't recovered first and spoken to him.

	"You sound like the local expert on wet diapers. Or is it some sort of
custom around here?"

	"I wouldn't know," he'd answered. "I'm from S-L-C."

	"We're from Salt Lake City," she'd replied, "and you must not be. Only
people that aren't from around here say they're from S-L-C."

	"Guilty." he'd told them. "Originally I'm from Southern California. Back
there it's called, 'So-Cal' or 'S-C' and the area where I'm from is referred
to as 'O-C' for Orange County."

	"Oh," she'd told him, nodding her head. "I see. And I suppose when you wet
your diapers, you don't go wee-wee like Georgie does. I'll bet you go P-P
instead."

	He'd laughed at her joke and told her, "Yeah, that's me. P-P from O-C."

	"Do you have a mommy to change you when you go P-P?"

	"No," he'd answered. "I never got into all the baby stuff." Then he'd
blushed a little and added, honestly, "I just like to wear diapers so I can
pee in them."

	"Like to wet the bed? Georgie loves to wet his bed."

	"Yeah, I've done that. That's cool."

	"Ever tried it with another bedwetter?" When he'd nodded affirmatively,
she'd asked, "Male or female?"

	"Yes." By then he'd been both blushing and smiling.

	Correctly assuming that meant Dennis was bi, she'd told him, "Well in that
case, you'll have to come over and spend the night with Georgie. My little
sissy really loves to wet the bed when she has another sissy bedwetter to
play with."

	He hadn't been certain if they'd been serious, but had exchanged phone
numbers and email addresses and he'd already gotten a message on his cell
phone that they'd decided not to take a chance on getting stuck in the
mountains if the coming storm was as bad as predicted and that they'd be
home all weekend - if he was interested. He squeezed the bulge in the front
of his diaper and confirmed the bulge wasn't all soggy material. He was
definitely interested and thought about the irony of it.

	He hadn't had a diapered playmate in a couple of years - since he'd moved
to SLC. Then after an hour's drive into the mountains, he meets a couple
while buying diapers and the couple turns out to be almost neighbors. He
didn't know exactly where they lived, but they'd given him a home phone
number with the same prefix as his number at home.

	All of a sudden Dennis had serious misgivings about staying at the cabin if
the weather was turning out to be bad enough to scare away other locals.
Besides, 'Toots', his young female lab, wasn't too fond of going out in the
snow if she sunk in to her chest. He tried to convince himself that he was
just being responsible and that meeting Georgie and - he realized later that
she'd never given him her name - had nothing to do with his decision to go
home. He wondered if they were married or lived together. They'd mentioned
that they planned to go skiing and that had made him think of Taylor King
and another of his uncle's assignments. As he packed his SUV with his
diapering supplies, not wanting to leave evidence of that, and leaving the
food for a future return trip, he recalled that meeting with a smile.

	The office he worked out of handled several military contracts. Dennis had
gone to work for his uncle one week after getting discharged from the
service and his uncle figured that since Dennis spoke the military language,
working on military contracts was the best place for him to start. One of
those first trips had been to the Air Force Academy outside of Colorado
Springs to help install a bunch of equipment his uncle's company had sold
them. At the end of the job, he and a couple of other guys decided to go
skiing and the ski instructor at the resort they'd picked just happened to
be his old friend from high school, Taylor King.

	Taylor had been on the cheer squad at Canoga High, his athletic ability
more suited for that than any of the sports that they cheered. But what had
bonded the two boys had nothing to do with athletics or cheering. They both
loved to suck cock as much as they enjoyed sex with girls. In addition, with
Dennis's tutelage, Taylor had learned that piss play could add to their
sexual shenanigans. Sucking each other off, then chasing down a mouthful of
cum with hot piss, became an after school ritual whenever they got together.
Taylor hadn't been too keen on the piss play part when they'd first started,
but after watching Dennis in action with his friend Lester and then his
girlfriend Margie, he'd learned to enjoy it as much as the other three did.
Then they'd all gone their separate ways.

	Dennis was the only one of the trio from work that had to go to the
beginner's area for instruction. Fortunately for Dennis, his friends from
work were well out of earshot when Taylor had slipped up behind him,
squeezed his butt and whispered, "Know where a guy could get a decent
blowjob around here?"

	It had been Dennis's first time on skis - his first time on anything that
moved beneath his feet, with one exception. He'd gone roller-skating with
some buddies while in the Marines and his attempts there had provided his
friends with enough laughs to last a lifetime. So when he felt a hand on his
ass, he knew better than to make any sudden erratic moves. But the moment he
recognized Taylor's voice, he tried to spin around and nearly fell on his
ass. Taylor had caught him in time as Dennis's skis began to go out from
under him.

	"First time on the slopes?" Taylor had asked, laughing at his former
friend, lover, and schoolmate.

	"How'd you guess?"

	"I've been an instructor for a couple of years now. It's kind of easy to
spot the newbies."

	"Why don't they start on level ground?" Dennis had asked. "I can't imagine
anyone trying to teach people to roller skate on the side of a hill."

	Taylor had laughed. "This is barely a slope. You have to use your poles to
keep moving. THAT," he'd said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to
indicate the huge mountain behind them, "is a hill."

	Dennis had looked at the mountain, it's tops hidden in clouds, and could
make out moving black dots on the white snow that were skiers coming down
from somewhere further up in those clouds. He shook his head and asked
Taylor, "Not me. What time does the bar open?"

	Taylor had given Dennis his sexiest smile and told him, "If you mean the
bar in my room, I'll get Ted to take my next class and we can open it right
now."

	Thirty minutes later, the two men had been naked in bed together, licking
dick like the last six years had never happened. A couple hours later, at
Taylor's insistence that Dennis stay as long as possible, Dennis had called
his uncle and requested to take his two weeks of vacation effective
immediately. Ted had turned out to be Taylor's roommate at the lodge and
Taylor's regular sex partner when the snow-bunnies were in short supply, or
anytime they were tired of girls at the moment. Ted had joined them that
first night and on a few others during Dennis's two week stay. On their
second night together, after laying together in the bathtub for a mutual
golden shower while Ted serviced a young lady from Alabama in her room,
Taylor had asked Dennis is he was still into diapers.

	"No," Dennis had answered. "They sort of frown on that in the Marines. I've
thought about it a few times since I've been out, but just haven't tried it
again."

	The following day, the urge now firmly in the forefront of Dennis's mind,
he'd found a Wal*Mart in the area that had adult diapers and had worn
diapers for most of the rest of his stay with Taylor. He'd been wearing and
wetting diapers with increasing frequency since then. That had been four or
five years back, and Dennis had to admit, as he squeezed his soggy diaper,
that he now wore and wet a diaper at every opportunity.

	"Toots, I think we made the right decision," Dennis told the dog lying in
the seat next to him. The storm was indeed beginning to look more like a
blizzard and Dennis had pulled off the highway at a truck-stop. He could see
that truckers were pulling off the road to put chains on their trucks and
Dennis was content to wait for a couple of them to finish and then follow
them across the mountain pass he'd need to cross to get home. While he
waited, he reached for his cell phone and hit the button that would call
back the couple that had left him the message.

	He'd been honest when he'd told them he'd enjoyed sharing a wet bed with
both males and females. What he hadn't mentioned was that it had been more
than ten years. Not that he'd had to stay 'dry' all those years. There'd
been several times since he got out of the service that he'd found a kindred
spirit for piss play. But none of them, male or female, and including
Taylor, had wanted to wet the bed. He hadn't shared a wet bed with anyone
since high school. And that he'd concluded - probably long before he used
the weather as an excuse - was way too long.

	He wasn't too surprised to get an answering machine and left a message,
telling them that he too had chickened out because of the impending weather
and that he expected to be back in town in an hour or so and that he was
available whenever they were. Then as he reviewed their drugstore
conversation in his mind, some other thoughts occurred to him.

	She'd mentioned that Georgie loved to play in wet beds with other sissy
bedwetters. Didn't that mean there had to be other guys like 'Georgie' in
the area? And were they also sissies? Or just bedwetters? And most
important, did he want to get back into that whole sissy scene, including
dressing as 'Denise'? He had to assume, although Georgie hadn't been dressed
at all feminine when he'd met them, that she'd feminized his name and called
him 'Georgie' for the same reasons that Margie had called him 'Denise'.

	Sometimes it seemed like it was so long ago, and other times it seemed like
yesterday. He hadn't tried to dress as Denise since the last time he'd done
that with Margie, but he had acquired some lingerie and had been wearing a
pair of panties over the diaper he'd had on when he met Georgie and his
'mommy' at the drugstore.

	He'd been fighting this internal battle, one part of him wanting to dress
as a sissy and the other part resisting, for ten years. It had been easy
while in the service, but increasingly more difficult since them. He was
sure the battle was nearly over and 'Denise' was about to become the winner.
The new millennium had just begun and as Dennis continued to rub himself
through the wet diaper, he could visualize himself and Georgie, dressed in
nighties, and playing with each other's 'clitties' in a pissy wet bed. He
stared at his cell phone, willing it to ring.



To be continued. Comments appreciated: amber_fountaine@hotmail.com