Same deal, one hit wonder.
I learned a great many things that night, but the foremost on my mind when it all began were these: driving through the mountains of Tennesse can be nervewracking, and it’s made even more so when a deep, dark night has set in. Piling the raging thunderstorm that was ravaging the hillside on top was something like the last straw for me.
I’ll admit, watching the etheral dance of water play out on my windshield against the backdrop of the occasionally illuminated peaks in the distance–peaks lit by the lightning that tore randomly across the sky.
The fact that that lightning was also playing across the sheer precipice just to the left of my Ford Taurus wasn’t lost upon me either. I am a city boy, and thus feel uncomfortable with any road that turns more than once in a quarter mile, or has a grade of greater than about on tenth a degree. I couldn’t believe that my company had sent me up here into the mountains to relax, of all things.
When I first saw the sign, I thought it was just a trick, the light of the storm reflecting off a tree or something. But, when it kept coming back I began to wonder if maybe I’d just found my saving grace. I knew that if I kept driving on these roads for much longer I’d become a statistic. Stopping wasn’t an option, either, if someone else wanted to get through it likely would have been the end of both of us.
So it was that I decided to stop the car in the (to my eyes) beautiful parking lot and spend the night at the Panal Hotel. I smirked at the words and knew that if I spoke with the seemingly required southern drawl common in these parts, those two words would rhyme perfectly.
Rushing in out of the rain, I pounded on the thick wooden door, hoping that some soul still inhabited these god-forsaken parts, and that I would be able to get some kind of lodging for the night.
It turns out I was in luck on both ends. When the door opened, I was face to face with a rather handsome woman who I took to be about five to six years older than myself-somewhere in her lower forties. She welcomed me in, saying that it was always nice to see a friendly face, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of the Beverly Hillbillies as I listened to her Tennessee twang. After a bit of talk, and very little haggling over room rates, I found myself it what passed for the sitting room of this lodge (I had discovered that this was more a bed and breakfast than any Holiday Inn.). There, I was introduced to the hostess’s (who insisted I call her Joan) extended family and general cartakers of this place. She had three daughters, who ranged in age from Seventeen to Eleven, and two nieces, one twenty and the other barely out of diapers. To a woman, they all had long, braided hair and wore conservatively cut dresses that fell to their ankles.
After brief introductions, we sat down to a late, but hearty meal of basically whatever was lying around. We passed what was left of the night in stimulating conversation. I was amazed: all of the stereotypes told me that these people should be dumb, and ignorant, but despite what I found to be a bit extreme conservativism in their views toward physical relationships (don’t even ask!) they were quite normal people.
At about midnight, Joan suddenly informed me and the children that it was time for bed. She as much commanded them as anything that they needed to wish me goodnight, and to a girl each one climbed on my lap and gave me a soft peck on the cheek. I wasn’t surprised when I felt the youngest was wearing diapers as she sat on my lap and played for more time to stay up and talk with the stranger. But, when the second, and third and fourth came up and were all wearing diapers, I was quite perplexed. I felt like I was playing a giant game of poker with blank cards in a dark room for unspeakable stakes with a dealer that won’t tell me the rules and is always smiling.
By the time the seventeen year-old sat on my lap, I was becoming more than a bit excited. She kissed my on the cheek, and then landed one small peck on the lips, before batting her eyes flirtatiously and scampering off to bed. She too, was diapered.
The oldest, Andrea, was also diapered when she sat on my lap (which was unbelievable in itself). I just couldn’t believe everything that was going on here.
The next half an hour passed in a daze as I tried to make sense of what was going on, but even with the storm over head and the pitch blackness of the night, sleep was a leprechaun, always out of reach.
The door cracked about an hour and a half after I had closed it and turned out the lights. In the night I could only see a female shape, who it was was impossible to tell. When Andrea’s voice came from the spectre, however, I was reassured.
“It gets a little lonely up here sometimes,” she whispered, “and scary with the storm. I like to have someone to hold me when I get scared.” The last little bit was spoken in a voice that was almost seductive, with a seeming playful little girl side thrown in for fun.
At this, she snuggled up to me in the bed, having been constatnly moving as she spoke, never standing still. As her head neared mine, I whispered the question that was killing me, and asked her why she wore diapers. She kissed me softly and then responded that I would see. Quickly, she moved down to the waistband of my boxers, and pulled them off, revealing my slighly excited manhood. After a few quick rubs, she threw her hole mouth into the job, and I was excited in no time. Then, seemingly out of nowhere (but actually off the bed, literally right next to me) she produced another diaper, similar to the one I could see was the only thing she was wearing in the dim light. She lifted up my butt, and in slow motion (or so it seemed) had me diapered faster than I could even react.
At this, she moved herself up and sat on my torso, bending her chest over my face. Forcing a nipple into my mouth, she moved her hand down to my crotch and began rubbing the outside of my diaper. I didn’t really react until she started wetting her diaper, though. The slow heat spreading from the bottom of her diaper sent me over the edge and into “La-La” land.
The next thing I remember is waking in a soaked diaper. I hurriedly dressed, ate breakfast and got to the car, after saying goodbye to every member of the family about ten times. It wasn’t 'til about thirty miles down the road that I looked in the backseat, where a surprise package of Adult Diapers lay.
I smiled to myself. This was going to be a relaxing weekend after all.