Sex on a plane
"Now boarding Virgin Airlines Flight 39 to Chicago."
When we stood up from our seats to board, Nathan – ever the gentleman – held out his hand to take my carry-on bag. But not before I felt him check to ensure that my diaper was still in place beneath my skirt. I suppressed a shiver as trailed his fingers down the back of my right thigh with one hand while hoisting my bag with the other.
Well, maybe not always a gentleman. Nathan knew drawing my attention to the diaper between my legs would make me squirm and blush, even in this massive throng of people. Thankfully, when I looked around all I saw were travelers readying their own luggage. It was going to be a long nine hours.
It had all started on the flight to London two weeks ago. The sure knowledge that my notoriously small bladder might cause me to disturb my handsome new paramour had warred with my desire to sit by the window. This, of course, on an international flight left him with the middle seat. I'd never flown to Europe before, while Nathan, he'd told me after several dates, often traveled to London and Brussels for work and had even spent two semesters studying in Vienna during college.
That was one of the things I liked most about Nathan. The other men I'd dated since moving from tiny Bluffton, SC to Chicago would have let that little tidbit drop on our first date. And, I admit that, when I first fell off the turnip truck, I would have been impressed. But pretty soon I realized all those guys cared about was impressing each other with bank account balances and heavyweight business card stock. Oh, and making sure all the partners at the firm saw them banging the hottest new Southern belle off the bus.
Nathan, though... Nathan, I had known from the start, was different. He knew what he wanted and he went about getting it.
Which brings to me why I was about to board an international flight wearing an adult diaper under my skirt.
If I do say so myself I'd held my bladder admirably on the first few hours of that first transatlantic flight. We were over the ocean the first time I asked Nathan and our seatmate – an older man wearing headphones and reading a book – to stand up so I could make my way out of the cramped seat to what passes for a lavatory on an airplane. Nathan was too much of a gentleman to show it, but I could sense the subtle cues that he was exasperated with the middle seat, not to mention that, due the turbulence throughout the flight, the drink cart hadn't been around yet.
When I returned the men stood up again to let me in, both trying and failing to keep the annoyance out of their faces.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to Nathan once I was settled back in my window seat.
"Hey, don't worry about. I shouldn't get annoyed. When you gotta go, you gotta go." As he said that, he'd slipped his hand up my thigh beneath my skirt and caressed my pussy briefly.
Eyes wide, I glanced at our seatmate, but he seemed to notice nothing. Nathan just settled back in his seat, closed his eyes and smiled.
I ended up disturbing Nathan and the older man twice more that night. I could plainly see both were annoyed that I woke them up, but what was I supposed to do, let it go and relieve myself right there in the airplane seat? Though I admit that thought turned me on more than a little bit.
Since I was a young girl, I'd been pissing where I shouldn't. I suppose for someone with such a small bladder, it was for the best that I found slipping my panties to the side and letting go in a parking lot, or using as a toilet an old chair destined for the garbage dump, to be a thrill rather than a nuisance.
But Nathan, it turns out, had other ideas about nuisances.
The day before we left London to return to Chicago, he beckoned me over to sit on his lap. We were both naked and freshly fucked, so I had no idea why he had me looking at a map of an aircraft on his laptop.
"I picked our seats for the flight home," he said.
He was pointing to the very last row on the plane, a truncated row of only two seats, tucked into a corner.
"Cozy," I said, nuzzling his neck. Then, teasingly, "I suppose you want me to sit on the aisle so I don't wake you up 5 times during the flight."
"Actually," he turned so he was looking me in the eye. "I want you to enjoy the window seat again."
I must have looked puzzled because he said, "And this time, I think I'm going to enjoy it, too."
And that's how I ended up on a transatlantic flight swaddled in a diaper like a baby.
As we approached the gate agent with our boarding passes, Nathan slipped an arm possessively around my waist. To the airline employee, we probably looked like any other young couple ecstatically in love. What she couldn't know was that Nathan's thumb surreptitiously caressed the outline of my diaper through my skirt. I flushed while she scanned both of our tickets and welcomed us aboard without even glancing our way.
Something about me wearing the diaper made Nathan even more attentive. After we made our way to our semi-secluded seats and put up our bags he lifted the seat arm before allowing me to slide in, and gently snapped my seatbelt into place. (Not without copping another feel of the diaper and the warmth between my legs, of course.)
"Do you have to go yet?" he asked, a light of teasing in his eyes. He'd lay me on my back and traded my panties for a diaper back at the hotel room, hours ago. "This is your life for the next 12 hours," he'd cautioned me as he taped the garment in place. "You're not to take this diaper off until we're back in Chicago."
"I... I don't know if I can do this."
Part of me felt that small tingle at the base of my spine anticipating the fact that I might actually piss right in my seat on an airplane. Another part of me was absolutely mortified. What if my diaper leaked? What if someone smelled it and saw what I was doing? What if a flight attendant figured out what was going on and humiliated me in front of everyone? I wasn't quite sure if those thoughts terrified me or made me want to come right there.
Nathan kept his voice pitched low to curtail the curiosity of the passengers in front of us. "Well you're going to have to piss your diaper or you're going to have to hold it for nine hours, because you're not going to disturb my flight this time."
I squirmed, feeling the first pangs of the urge to go right in the pit of my stomach. Speaking of wanting to come, I couldn't help but notice a sizable bulge in Nathan's trousers. Naughty man! He was loving making me suffer!
Soon the drink cart came around and as I began to decline a beverage, Nathan cut me off.
"She'll have a glass of white wine."
I tried to catch his eye, pleadingly, but he only made small talk with the flight attendant and ignored me.
That plane roared a takeoff. Time passed and with half the glass of wine in my belly, my tiny bladder already felt near to bursting. I looked at the plane full of passengers in front of me, the flight attendants bustling to put away the drink service, and blushed crimson thinking about what Nathan wanted me to do.
Nathan, for all intents and purposes reading the Economist, appeared not to notice my squirming.
"Please, Nathan," I whispered. "I need to go now."
I saw the corner of his lip curve in a self-satisfied smile.
"Then go."
A light bulb went off over my head.
"Nathan," I bent to whisper in his ear. Bad move. The airplane seatbelt pressed against my full bladder. "If you let me get up and go to the bathroom, I'll suck your cock as soon as they turn the lights down."
"Jessica," he whispered back, not bothering to look up from his magazine. "If I tell you to, you'll suck my cock as soon as they turn the lights down anyway. Whether you're sitting in a wet diaper or not."
Damn it. He knew me too well. I tried to suppress a giggle at that, and instead felt a small spurt of piss hit the diaper.
"I..."
Hearing the change in my tone, Nathan dropped his magazine and looked at me.
"I just wet myself."
In one of the most erotic sights I've ever seen, Nathan's eyes went dark with desire.
"Let it go, baby," he said under his breath, his eyes traveling from my face to my breasts to my diaper. Then "wait!" he breathed. "No, let me see."
Looking around for any wandering flight attendants, he reached down and unbuckled my seatbelt, relieving some pressure off my bladder. He pulled my skirt up to my waist.
"Nathan-"
"Shhh! I just want to make sure it doesn't leak, baby." He took my hand and looked me straight in the eyes. "Just let it go. Just piss right here in your diaper."
"But- But-" I cast around for anything. "Isn't it illegal to piss in an airplane seat?"
Eyes still hooded with lust, Nathan chuckled a bit. "It's illegal to tamper with the smoke detector, baby. Nobody said anything about taking a long, hard piss on the seat."
His words caused my pussy to tingle just as I let out another spurt.
"I did it again," I muttered.
I heard Nathan give a small groan as he felt the diaper at my crotch.
"Good, baby. No leaking. Keep going."
Despite myself, despite the fact that any of the other passengers on the flight could turn around and look at me, or that any of the flight attendants could walk by and see my skirt pulled up around my waist and my boyfriend's hand teasing at my crotch, I let go.
It was heaven, pissing in my diaper, using my airplane seat as a toilet right out in the open where anyone could see.
I felt the first stirrings of orgasm as I watched Nathan watch me. I sighed as I relieved myself into a diaper, at 39,000 feet, surrounded by hundreds of people.
Nathan's bulge, I noticed, was straining at his zipper as I felt the last bit of my stream soak my diaper. He'd been right – no leaks! I felt the warm piss spread beneath me in my diaper, even after I'd finished soaking it.
I'd never been more turned on in my life.
Nathan and I were staring into one another's eyes, his hand reaching down almost absent-mindedly to give his straining cock some relief, when the cabin lights went out.
Bedtime.
It my eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim light. Only because I was listening so intently for it did I hear Nathan's zipper slowly pulling down. My eyes adjusted to see his cock finally freed from his pants and boxer briefs. A drop of pre-come perched pristinely on the tip.
"Suck it, baby." He whispered. "It won't take long," he added, with a self-deprecating groan.
"And afterward," he continued. "Keep it in your mouth."
As if drawn by a tether I had started to bend down to lick that perfect drip off the tip of his cock. I paused and looked up at him questioningly.
"Because after I come down your throat I'm going to give you something nice to drink." My pussy throbbed in response as he continued, "We need to take full advantage of that diaper after all. No need for either of us to avail ourselves to this aircraft's facilities tonight."
Burning in anticipation, heedless of the audience that might burst in on us at any second, I lowered my head to my boyfriend's thick cock and started to suck.
Keys: airplane xxx stories diaper
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