by Penny Birch
I was determined to get some sort of reaction out of her, so as we came out on to the section of good road beyond Hindhead I put my foot down. It had terrified Monty, but not Gabrielle. My car is supposed to be able to do one hundred and sixty, and I got to just over one hundred and thirty before I lost my own nerve and slowed down. If Gabrielle noticed she didn’t show it. A robot would have shown more emotion, and it occurred to me that perhaps she really was perfect for Monty.
We got to the War Down Man in easy time for lunch, and shared a bottle of Chablis with our salad. The landlord was as miserable as ever, showing us up to the double room we’d booked, then the single. The single was good, but the double was perfect, a long attic room looking out across the downs in one direction and on to a leaded roof in the other. There was a large bathroom, with both bath and shower, twin four-foot-six beds, and as much pink upholstery as we could possibly have wanted.
We talked for ages, very intimately, discussing everything from the geology of Alsace to why men are so often obsessed with buggering girls. Nothing happened, but slowly the atmosphere between us became warmer and more sexual. By five I felt ready to start, Monty or no Monty, but it was Gabrielle who made the first move. She had sat down on one of the beds, and was bouncing gently, with a distinctly mischievous look on her face. I was immediately wondering what she was up to, and it was impossible not to smile.
‘Shall we put our nappies on?’ she suggested suddenly.
‘Shouldn’t we wait for Monty?’ I queried. ‘After all, he’s sure to want to put us in them. Or do you want to play together first, with me?’
‘In a way. I have been thinking, of what you said about the pleasure of being naughty. You enjoy it so much, and I am not sure that I understand, but I do not want to be dismissive. I would like to try.’
‘Great. What would make you feel naughty then?’
‘I do not know. This is what you must show me.’
‘OK . . . first rule then, naughty is when you know you can handle the consequences. If you can’t it’s just plain dangerous. Going with no panties under your dress is naughty, so is streaking if you don’t mind being arrested. Peeing over each other is naughty. Wearing a nappy aged twenty-seven is naughty.’
‘Going with no underwear I would find free. Streaking has little appeal for me. Peeing over each other is an intimate sharing of bodily fluids. Being in a nappy represents security.’
‘If you say so. So what were you thinking of, in nappies?’
‘Perhaps going outside.’
‘Outside!’
‘Yes. In skirts perhaps, so that we know, and people may guess, but they cannot be sure. With strangers to see, there would be no security. It would feel naughty, I think.’
‘Naughty! It would be terrifying!’
‘It would? With Monty you have had sex with strangers, which is greatly more dangerous.’
‘Yes, but they wanted it. We were on equal terms. To others I was just another person out for a walk. I was scared stiff when he gave me my titty whipping in the quarry.’
‘On Beachy Head, people realised that you had soiled yourself.’
‘Yes, but it was an accident. It looked like one anyway. That’s the good thing about panty-wetting and stuff. Nobody knows you’ve done it on purpose. Any girl might mess her panties if she was embarrassed enough about pulling them down where she might be seen. Anyway, Monty forced me, remember. I’d never have had the guts to just do it! Wearing a nappy is different. Everyone will know, and they’ll guess we’re kinky!’
‘Why?’
‘Well obviously! I mean, why else would we do it? Rubber incontinence pants are far less obtrusive.’
‘It is in your mind, and mine also, that it is sexual. Others will not know.’
‘I just wouldn’t dare!’
‘I would.’
‘Jesus, Gabrielle, it’s not that you don’t understand, it’s that you’re too liberal, and a sight too cool! In public, in a nappy!?’
‘On a country lane, a footpath even, on a September afternoon.’
‘There’ll be people about, believe me. And what about the miserable old git at reception?’
She merely shrugged, and began to undress, pushing her jeans and panties down over her hips with one smooth motion. Her shoes went with them, her top and bra followed and she was nude, rolling back on the bed and catching her legs up to make a fine display of her shaved pussy. I pulled a nappy from the bag in her luggage, unfolded it and put it on her, a lot more easily than I had the first time. Again there was that sweet shock of transition from naked girl to grown-up baby, something everyday to something exquisitely naughty.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It always feels better to be put in them. Now, a summer dress maybe. It is warm enough, I think.’
I sat down to watch, feeling more and more impressed by her, jealous too. It was so daring, and she was being really cool about it. There was no question about whether people were going to guess either. The dress she had chosen was loose, very floaty, in lightweight cotton, and pink. She had no bra underneath it, showing off her perky little tits in a way that would have been quite daring enough for most girls. The nappy was something else. It showed in outline as she moved, quite clearly when the light caught her dress in the right way. It amazed me, especially considering how private she was about her fetish, but she seemed to be determined, giving me a twirl to show off before slipping on a pair of sandals and declaring herself ready.
‘I know it’s not likely,’ I said, ‘but what if someone you know sees you, a client maybe?’
‘That is easy,’ she answered me. ‘I will explain that it is a new therapy, called practical regression, designed to reduce the stress inherent in adult life by making a symbolic reversion to an infantile condition. Believe me, I will convince them.’
She was right. She would. In fact, if she’d told me before I knew she was into being a grown-up baby, I wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. I’d have had to suppress a giggle perhaps, but I’d never have guessed the truth. She was too cool, too detached, to be into anything so perverse, and she was too clever to get caught out.
‘I want to do it too,’ I said suddenly. ‘Wait for me, Gabby.’
She smiled and bounced down on one of the beds, lying back to watch as I stripped. I knew my nerve would fail me if I didn’t hurry, so I pulled my clothes off as fast as I could. Nude, I rolled back on the bed, holding my legs up as she had done. She stood up, taking a nappy, and caught me by the ankles.
I relaxed, letting her take over, with the most beautiful sense of erotic humiliation washing over me as she tucked it under my bum. She was quick, obviously practised, opening my legs, curling the nappy up between them and fastening it off with quick, precise motions. I stood, to look at myself in the mirror, nude, save for the puffy pink and white nappy around my hips. It looked cheeky, and rude, and improper, all the things I like, especially from the rear, with my bum stuck out towards the mirror. How Gabrielle could not see it as naughty was beyond me.
‘You enjoy flirting with yourself, I think,’ Gabrielle remarked.
‘I never really thought of it that way,’ I said, ‘but yes, I get off on the sight of my own body. Don’t you?’
‘It is what I have been doing for years. Why do you think I have so many mirrors in my bedroom?’
‘Well you can show off for me now, too, and Monty. Shall I wear the white dress, or a skirt and top?’
‘The white dress.’
‘It’s very light, the pink of the nappy might show through.’
‘Good, and no bra. You must show your breasts.’
‘Mine are a lot bigger than yours, Gabby. They’ll really show.’
‘All the better.’
I put the dress on, quickly, before I could change my mind. The nappy did show underneath, my boobs too, both really prominent, yet the white dress gave such an innocent image that it didn’t seem tarty at all. I could feel my embarrassment though, really strong, so strong I w
asn’t sure I could do it.’
‘We go,’ Gabrielle announced, opening the door.
I hesitated, but she took my hand and I stumbled out on to the landing, with my stomach knotting inside me. There was nobody about, but I could hear voices in the lobby below. Gabrielle shot me a glance, smiling, and set off down the stairs, quickly, with her dress bouncing behind her to hint at what she was wearing underneath with every step. I followed, trying to keep close to her, down one flight, the next, the last and we were in the lobby, where the landlord was booking in a group of four American tourists.
‘Good evening,’ Gabrielle said sweetly, smiling at a fat man in a gaudy shirt who was looking our way.
‘And a very good evening to you too, Miss,’ he replied, including me with a nod and a grin.
I responded in kind, trying to play it cool, but as I walked past, I caught a change in his expression, just for a moment. I nearly tripped over their luggage, catching myself just in time by skipping sideways and clutching at Gabrielle’s shoulder.
‘Beg pardon, Miss,’ the man said, and pulled his bag to the side. In doing so he gave himself a prime look at our rear views.
He had to have noticed. I felt the blood rushing to my face, and I scampered quickly to the door and out. Gabrielle followed, at a leisurely pace, until we were out of sight, when she burst into giggles.
‘Wonderful!’ she exclaimed. ‘Just wonderful! Did you see the look on his face?’
‘Yes!’ I answered. ‘He must have seen. I’m sure he did!’
‘He may have guessed,’ she answered. ‘He may not. That was exciting, and yes, I think, naughty.’
‘Very naughty! You’re going to get us thrown out!’
‘I do not think so. It is good to have a partner, Natasha . . .’
‘Playmate.’
‘Playmate, as you say. It is very good. Thank you.’
She kissed me, which gave me a lovely warm glow of contentment. I was still filled with embarrassment, but I was buzzing too, with all the feelings of daring and naughtiness I enjoy, really strong. Gabrielle seemed much the same, and there was a glint of mischief in her eye as she took my hand, leading me quickly across the road to where a footpath sign pointed along the edge of a wood.
‘Where are we going?’ I demanded.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Maybe just to walk, maybe to show off a little. It feels good, like this. I have never been outside in my nappy, never.’
‘Nor have I!’
‘Come then, let us enjoy it, and decide what to do with your Monty.’
‘You choose, it’s your thing.’
‘Very well. There are many games I play with myself, and yet more fantasies.’
‘Tell me.’
‘My favourite, I think, is to be fed at the breast. I take my bottle of course, in reality, although not usually in my bottom.’
I laughed and slapped her bum, on the soft padding of her nappy.
‘I’m not being nurse,’ I reminded her. ‘You can suckle me, but another time.’
‘I look forward to it. You have beautiful breasts, and large enough to play as nursemaid.’
‘Thank you, Gabrielle. I suppose I should take that as a compliment. What then?’
‘Just to play is good, but needs no help. I would like my nappy changed, and perhaps to have my bottom spanked. We could perhaps have Monty teach us to use the loo?’
‘Potty training? Perfect, and so dirty. That’s naughty, surely?’
‘Maybe, but not perhaps so naughty as this. We are out of sight of the hotel, so kiss me.’
She held her arms out and I came into them, letting our mouths meet in a gentle kiss that quickly became passionate. I knew we could be seen from the road, but I didn’t care. Snogging other girls is not something I’m prepared to keep private. Nor was she, obviously, because she was getting rude, one hand on my bum, the other around my back, holding me tightly, very tightly in fact, and then I realised that her fingers were inching up my dress, showing my legs.
‘Hey!’ I protested, pulling my head back as my nappy came on show. ‘No! Gabrielle!’
‘Be a good girl, no tantrums,’ she chided. ‘There is a car coming. Do you want them to see you making such a fuss?’
‘No, I . . .’ I squealed, but it was too late.
It was showing, the big pink bulge over my bum, unmistakably a nappy, and she had my arms, tight. I wriggled, struggling, but only succeeded in making more of a show of myself, wiggling my bottom as she hoisted the dress right up high, showing it all, waist to feet, my lower body bare but for a big pink nappy, wriggling in a silly little dance as I fought to escape.
I heard the car, and turned to look, catching a glimpse of the driver, a big, ginger-haired man, staring right at me, no more than fifty yards away. Then it was past, hidden by a hedge and she had let me go, and was skipping back, laughing.
‘Now that is naughty!’ she crowed. ‘Yes!’
‘Naughty!? I could kill you, Gabrielle!’
‘Du calm. Do it to me if you are cross. Come on, show the next car that I am wearing a nappy.’
‘You’ll cause an accident!’
‘Yes, maybe we should not. Spank my bottom instead, in the wood.’
‘No, you’d like that too much, and being shown off. You’re going to say sorry though, my way. In the wood.’
She ducked through the fence, giggling, and I followed. I took her hand, leading her a little way in, just far enough to be sure we weren’t seen from the road. It still wasn’t safe.
‘Kneel,’ I ordered.
She obeyed quickly, pulling her dress up so as not to soil it as she went down in the leaf mould.
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Now show you’re sorry. Kiss this.’
I turned, glancing quickly around as I hiked up my skirt, and quickly tore the tabs on my nappy loose and let it fall, showing her my bare bum. She responded immediately, kissing one cheek, then the other.
‘Uh, uh, not like that, Gabby,’ I said, pulling open my cheeks. ‘On my bumhole, that’s how a girl should say sorry.’
She hesitated for only a second, and then I felt her face press to my bottom, her puckered lips touching me, to plant a firm kiss full on my bumhole.
‘Much better,’ I said. ‘That’s the way. Now once more.’
Again she did it, right on my ring, this time flicking her tongue out to lap at the tight little hole. I wanted more, but a sudden birdcall from the direction of the path brought our dirty little game to an end. She helped me fasten the nappy, both of us in fits of giggles, before we scampered quickly back to the path.
I was absolutely flying, high on pure, wanton pleasure, and so was she, laughing and stopping occasionally to kiss as we walked back towards the hotel. We would have ended up in bed, and never mind Monty, only as we came out on to the road I saw his awful car, just parking.
‘Monty’s here,’ I said, pulling her along by the hand. ‘Come on.’
She ran after me, reaching Monty just as he was heaving his bulk out of the driver’s seat. I kissed him as soon as he was upright, and stood aside to give him a clear view of Gabrielle.
‘This is Gabrielle,’ I said. ‘Gabrielle, meet Monty, my pet pervert.’
He grinned, showing a trace of uncertainty as his eyes flicked over her body, then mine.
‘We have nice breasts, you think?’ Gabrielle asked.
He coloured slightly, but managed to nod.
‘And you like our dresses?’ she went on.
‘Sure,’ he said, his eyes going lower.
A puzzled expression suddenly came over his face. I giggled, pulling my dress tighter to my front to show the outline of my nappy. Gabrielle did the same, cocking one hip out to make the bulge of the material unmistakable. His frown stayed, for a moment, then changed to a look of astonishment.
‘You’re wearing nappies!’ he said. ‘Both of you!’
‘We like nappies,’ I answered. ‘Don’t you like us in nappies?’
‘Ye
ah, kinky. But outdoors? Haven’t other people realised?’
‘Maybe, but they don’t know what we’re going to do in them, do they?’
‘Fucking hell. What do you want me to do?’
‘Play with us, of course.’
‘Both of you? At the same time?’
‘I think that’s what I said before.’
‘And you’ll do it to each other, in front of me?’
‘Yes, of course.’
He blew his cheeks out, his whole face beaming.
‘Not yet,’ Gabrielle said. ‘First we talk, and we eat, a good meal. I will order.’
‘Now? It’s only just gone six.’
‘We eat now, and no salad. Jacket potatoes, two each, filled with cheese, and chocolate cake for dessert.’
‘Sounds good,’ Monty put in. ‘Who’s for a beer?’
‘Not beer for us, cider,’ Gabrielle said firmly. ‘It is a better diuretic.’
‘Don’t muck about, do you?’ Monty said. ‘Let’s go in then. I’ll get the first round.’
We turned for the pub, Monty putting his arm around first me, then Gabrielle. When neither of us tried to pull away he let his hands wander lower, squeezing my bottom through the seat of my nappy, hers too. I let him have his feel, only gently taking his hand away when we reached the door.
‘Later,’ I said. ‘We don’t want to give people ideas.’
‘Yeah, right,’ he said, ‘and women go around in nappies all the time, I suppose.’
‘It’s a therapy,’ Gabrielle said, and gave him the full explanation.
It made him laugh, and that broke the last of the ice. We ordered our dinner, as Gabrielle had suggested, and in no time the two of them were chatting away as if they had known each other for years, and intimately. Because it was so early we had the dining room to ourselves, and Gabrielle began to explain her grown-up baby fantasy to him, only for the group of Americans to appear and choose the table right next to ours.
That stopped us talking openly, but Monty seemed to have caught on to the basic idea, and when the food arrived he fed her most of her potato with a spoon. From then on I was absolutely sure it was going to work. Just being in our nappies was enough to keep a permanent sexual tension, and having him know. I relaxed, drinking the two pints of cider Gabrielle had made me order, followed by a half of their Rieussec with my cake.