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 When I was young, between the ages of 10 and 12, I used to like to explore
the woods behind our property.  Our land was next to a national forest, so
I was always hiking and looking for new trails.  One day, when I was just
turned 12 and starting to become aware of myself sexually, I went hiking in
search of a little privacy to explore my body.  There was a cave not too
far from a trail I used to hike regularly, but not too many people knew
about it.  I used to hang out there for hours and no one would come.  So I
figured I'd go there.  It was about an hour away from home and by the time
I got there, I had to pee really bad.  Usually I'd just pee down the hill
next to the cave entrance, and that day, I went to do the same, but my
zipper got stuck.  I really had to go, so I tried to wiggle my pants down
around my hips, but I was growing like a weed and they were too tight to
slide down.  I was getting pretty desperate, so I squeezed and squeezed my
crotch to try and calm it down, but all that did was make me hard in my
pants and make my legs tremble.  I remember sinking down to my knees and
squeezing my cock again, which by this time was pointing straight up in my
pants and hard as a rock from all that squeezing.  I still needed to
squeeze, though, because little drops of pee were escaping into my pants. I
was really, really uncomfortable by this point, and more than a little
turned on by my hand.  But I was practically dying from embarrassment, too.
What kid of 12 pees his pants?

   And then, as I was sitting on my knees rocking back and forth with my
hand squeezing and massaging my cock, I felt my body and my face flush.  My
hips started moving on their own, my cock rubbing against the seam of my
jeans, and before I could stop it, I was spurting my little bit of boy-cum
into my underpants.

   I was dazed and breathing hard, and just coming out of it enough to be
mortified at what I'd done, when my bladder gave one, last violent squeeze.
I was so relaxed from my orgasm that all I could think of to do was to
squeeze my legs tight together.  It didn't help at all.  My pee blasted out
of my cock with so much force that it fountained up out of the front of my
jeans, ran down my crotch, then down the conduit of my tight-together legs.
There was nothing I could do to stop it, so I confess that I let myself wet
and wet until there was nothing left to come out.

   I wanted to be OK with this.  I mean, no one would ever know, right? 
I'd just stay at the cave until my pants dried out, then I'd go home and
change before my mom saw me.  Except...  I was hard again, right away.  My
warm, wet pants were turning me on.

   I was mortified.  There I was, kneeling on the ground with my piss still
running away from me down the hill, and I was already getting hard again. I
felt like I was rooted to the spot.  I felt like God was going to strike me
down.  But I put my hand over the wet mound of my crotch and I rubbed my
penis only two or three times before I was coming again.  That time,
nothing came out.

   Even though I couldn't be seen from the path, I was still anxious about
being seen.  I got up and made my way into the cave, and had a nasty shock
-- there was a man in there!

   He wasn't very old; as I think of it now, he must not have been any
older than 25, and most probably younger.  He had a gas lamp, a bedroll,
and a large pack in there with him.  He took one look at me and my first
instinct was to cover myself with my hands, not that it did any good hiding
that I'd wet my pants all to hell.

   The first words he said to me were, "It's a shame, a big boy like you
wetting himself." But he didn't look mad, saying it.  He looked kind of,
well, <i>interested</i>.

   "You know what my dad would do to me if I showed up like that in front
of him?"

   I tried to say no, but nothing came out.  I cleared my throat and tried
again.  "No," I said.

   "He'd give me a whipping.  That's what."

   I gulped.  I was starting to feel like I was going to cry.  "Would he?"

   He looked me keen in the eye and said, "I reckon you could use a
whipping right about now."

   I remember this perfectly because what he said nearly scared the piss
out of me -- again!  I thought to myself, I gotta run, I gotta get out of
here, but I was frozen in place as he leaned over from the rock he was
sitting on and pulled me to him by the front of my shirt.  I could smell
him as I got close.  Some day tripper, I guessed, or someone who didn't go
out on the trails much.  He had some kind of cologne or aftershave or
something on him that smelled kinda spicy and leathery all at once, and
that was mixed with the smell of cigarette smoke.  It sort of reminded me
of my dad's smell.  I didn't have time to think of it too much then,
though, because he pulled me down over his knee and hitched me up close to
his waist.  I reckon my dick would have touched his if we hadn't had any
clothes on.

   He started smacking my ass without any warning, and he did it
<i>hard</i>.  I squirmed and was just about to cry out when he said, "If
you scream, I'm going to do far worse than spank you for wetting yourself.
I got a knife in this pack, kid."

   That's all he needed to say.  I bit my lip and tried harder than ever to
wiggle out of his grip.  But I wasn't going anywhere.  To my horror, all my
wiggling around in my wet pants was making my hard again, and there wasn't
any way I could hide it.  My hard cock ground into the front of my wet
pants with every whollop.  I don't remember how many spanks later it was,
not very long, though, and the tingling of my ass and the pressure and
rubbing on my wet cock caused me to buck uncontrollably into his groin, and
I felt it, <i>this guy was hard, too</i>, and that shoved me over the edge
into orgasm, right there in his lap.  I think he knew what was happening.
He must have known.  In a moment he stopped spanking me and just held me
down tight to his groin.  I felt his cock twitch in his pants underneath me
and put two and two together -- he was cumming in his pants, too.  I
figured he'd let me go, then.  I was kind of hoping he would, because the
blood was rushing to my head; I was too tired and shakey to hold up my head
any more.  But he didn't, he kept me clamped tight to him, and in a moment
I understood why.  I felt a burst of new, wet warmth in the front of my
pants and realized he was pissing all to hell in his pants, too.  I guess
he thought he could use me as a sponge, but I was soaking as it was, so
most of it ended up in the front of his jeans and on the ground at the base
of the rock he was sitting on.  So I lay there, not moving, until he pushed
out the last spurt and finally let me go.

   I slid to the ground and crawled a few feet away from him, catching my
breath.  And before he could rouse himself from where he sat, I sprang up
and ran out of the cave and away.

   I eventually made it home, my mother none the wiser, but since that day
I haven't been able to get off without wetting myself first.  It's
something about the warm, wet feeling against my cock.  It's comforting, I
guess.  I've even tried folding up a couple of T-shirts and laying them in
the front of my underwear.  I can pee into them, lean against something so
my cock is trapped between my damp skin and the warm, soaking wet "diaper"
and within moments the cum fountains out of me.

   That was 20 years ago, and I'm still making homemade diapers, wetting
them as hard and fast as I can, then rubbing myself off in them.  I've
recently thought about trying to find a man, someone bigger than me, to
take me over his knee and spank me while I wet myself.  I think it would
feel fantastic and I'd probably come in just a few moments.  I have hardly
been able to think of anything else since then that gets me to come as long
and as hard as that fantasy does.

   I wish I could be normal.  I wish I could think of girls, or look at big
tits and get excited.  Instead, all I can think of is another man clamping
me to his groin while he spanks me for wetting, pissing himself, and then
jerking himself off on my clothed, wet cock.  I'm sick, and I know it.  God
forgive me.