Summer Heat in Plastic Pants

Off all the odd and crazy times I have experienced in my lifetime there is one pleasure that has always remained strong in my memories. That is how a new or even a freshly washed pair of plastic pants smells. The new brands have a slightly different odor, at least, it seems to me they do. It was an intoxicating odor that never ceased to arouse my manhood. But from the first time that I wore a pair of plastic pants on my own accord, it was in the summer of 1961. We had just moved into our first new home as a family in the Los Angeles suburb of La Puente in a subdivision called Valinda. I had been wearing night diapers during the winter so one of my drawers was full of plastic pants; the pins were kept in a container on its top.

During those hot summer days, most of the neighborhood boys only wore shorts and shoes when we went outside to play, the temperatures were usually 90 or better. One afternoon I was searching my drawers for one of my hidden treasures, I don’t remember what it was exactly but wile rummaging though the underwear drawer my hands came in contact with a new pair of blue plastic pants. The way they felt in my hands intrigued me, so I pulled them out to look closer at them. It was like I couldn’t resist them as I put up to my face and inhaled deeply their delicious odor. Hearing noises from the hall, I glanced around quickly as I stuffed them back into the drawer. I looked out my open doorway and saw the retreating figure of my mother walking into the living room. Upon reflection I realized if she would have seen my actions she would have been quizzing me instead of walking away. Something drew me back to that drawer, where I pulled out those blue plastic pants again; staring at them in my hands once more I got an overwhelming desire to put them on. I stuffed them in the pocket of my cutoff jean shorts and headed toward the men’s bathroom. Once inside I shimmied out of my shorts and briefs and slipped the plastic pants on. I felt this rush of warming sensation against my bare skin that sent shivers down my back. I had never felt this way about the plastic pants before or even liked the fact that I had to wear them over diapers at night. I couldn’t understand the way it was making me feel or why I was starting to get hard, without even touching my penis. Just moving around slightly was massaging it to stiffness; I rubbed it through the warm plastic and experienced more chills and thrills. I didn’t want to take them off so I pulled back on my briefs and shorts and slipped back to the front yard.

My stepfather was in the garage working on something, I got my bike out as casually as I could and quickly pedaled down the street. Outside in the oppressive dry heat, it felt like there was a fire blazing in my crotch which was intensified by the rapid movement of my legs and my penis was fully alert, at attention. I was only ten and a half, and had recently had my first wet dream. And it was almost an embarrassing experience waking up with my crotch all sticky. The morning it happened I was taken out of the wet diapers by mother, who said nothing out of the ordinary, just the customary get a shower before you get dressed routine. It was me that acted differently, a subconscious part of me that said you are different now,, what happened?

I was not asleep now when I got a craving to rub myself in a secret place. I pedaled faster, heading for the nearby wooded hillside. I was sweating slightly under my arms and on my brow but inside the plastic pants it felt like a wet myself. When I got in a private spot I stuck my hand inside the waistband of my briefs feeling the outside of the plastic pants. They was clinging to my body like they had been molded on me, it was another new and strange sensation but I liked it. I looked the area over good before I found dirt gully that afforded good visibility in all directions. The only way someone could see what I was doing in it was if they were above me on the hillside. I decided to chance it; I pulled my pants and briefs to my ankles, before stepping out of them. Looking at myself I laughed, thinking I was wacked out dude, imagining how bad it would be to be seen by the kids at school in my current attire.

Relaxing I lowered my hands to my plastic covered bottom running them over the smooth creamy surface, While I continued to rub my butt with my left hand my right snaked around to the front to my rock hard erection. I was lost in the pleasure I was giving myself when a spasm hit me and I felt liquid start squirting out of my rod. For a few seconds I was afraid I had hurt myself as the spasms continued even stronger for a few brief seconds. It felt like all my strength had left me, I was weak in the knees and had to lean against the dirt, while my senses recovered. Time seemed to standstill as I lay there breathing heavily the only sounds I could hear were the songbirds going about their daily chores.

I eventually stood up and pulled my briefs and shorts back over the plastic pants, but not before pulling back the elastic of the soggy plastic pants to look down at my shrunken penis. The smell was the same one from the wet dream I had. My thoughts went back to boyhood as I surveyed my current surroundings, imagining I was Daniel Boone or Robinson Crusoe. I adventured a few hours before hunger pangs got the better of me and I headed home for lunch. After a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a small glass of milk, I was off again this time riding around the local blocks knowing better then to be late for dinner at five o’clock. I didn’t want to be grounded again.
I was so sticky feeling that I jumped into the shower in just the plastic pants before dinner knowing I had to get leaned up before mother discovered what I had been wearing. I can still smell the mess in those plastic pants a sour sickly odor that seemed to stick to my skin. I had to wash myself and the plastic pants twice with the ivory soap to get rid of it. I stuffed them in the dirty clothes hamper afterwards, which is what mom would do every morning I woke up wet. With luck it wouldn’t be noticed that there was to many plastic pants in the hamper. After that first time I would use a dirty pair from the hamper. Since it was far easier then smuggling a clean pair out of my room but also because I liked the smell of dried pee on them, it enhanced my arousal. It was about two years before I decided to try diapers with the plastic pants. I fondly remember those early years of exploration with the sweet delight of plastic pants of various colors clinging so tightly to my tender skin. I even experimented with wearing multiple pairs of them at once which was another great adventure. This was something I didn’t do unless no one else was home but me. I stayed home whenever possible just so I could experiment in different ways. I also combined them with a pair of my sister’s nylon panties and a bra I stole from her dresser; of course I had to put them back again when I was done with them. The only part during those couple of years that didn’t change was keeping the plastic next to my bare skin.

Wearing the panties and bra developed from the play-acting with my sister in the backyard when we used to play dress-up in the come old clothes and shoes mom gave her to play with. I was wearing plastic pants once while dressed up in the clothes and got turned on enough to try the panties and bra also. After I had mastered masturbation in plastic pants, I started doing it while wearing diapers at night and fantasying about doing it with a girl while we wore both wearing diapers and plastic pants. The dreams have stayed with me my whole life and enabled me to get through those rough years in reform school where I wasn’t able to wear them and had to masturbate secretly thinking wearing them. I got lucky and only wet the bed a couple of times during the first year I was property of the State of California. I spent seventeen months the first time in various institutions thought-out the state. The first month and a half was in Los Angeles Juvenile Hall, then A month and a half in Boys Republic in Chino (a boy’s home). After two escapes there and an attempt in the juvenile hall they decided the state was better equipped to deal with me. More about that stuff another time.

Being in fifth grade I had not had sex education yet so I at a loss about human sexuality except for what was whispered about by knowledgeable kids in school. And anyone who totally believed what they bragged about was naïve which most of the kids my age. When school started back up in September, I did my own research and found out what had happened to me. But until then I just enjoyed what I was doing.