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.