I read Mr. D.S.’s letter in your Open Forum section in August 1983. He mentioned that he was having a difficult time getting rubber pants that fit. I solved that problem by going to a hospital supply store or drug store that handles incontinence supplies. There I have found large rubber pants— both pull on and snap ups— and adult size disposable diapers. There is something incredibly safe and warm about wearing some soft diapers next to your skin, and I am glad to have found some that fit me as they should.

I have been an adult baby for about two years now and enjoy my newfound infancy to the hilt. In the evenings I enjoy a bath using a popular baby bath then I rub down with baby lotion and powder myself. When getting ready for bed I wear triple cloth diapers, an adult disposable diaper and rubber pants. I found that his combination prevents me from getting the bed wet when I mess in my diapers. I then warm eight ounces of baby formula and take this feeding at bedtime. I generally sleep with my teddy bear and a pacifier until early in the morning when it is time for my change and another eight ounce bottle of formula. Later in the morning I have a bottle of strained baby juice and baby cereal. I get to do this about twice a week, which is about all my wife can stand.

I must admit that after a rough day in the business world, an evening in the soft baby world is the answer to releasing a lot of tensions I face day in and day out.

— Mr. J.B., Florida

Hilda is a big Nordic blonde to whom I was married 10 years before we made a startling discovery.

Hilda had gone from 140 solid pounds to about 160 or so, and her doctor told her to take it off. She joined a local spa to get some exercise and began to jog in the morning. As she lost weight and became more physically fit, our sex life, which had been somewhat on the wane, began to pick up. She went to the spa three afternoons a week, but then began to go on Wednesday evenings. It was the Wednesdays that were the most interesting.

When she came home those evenings, she would literally drag me into the bedroom to fuck my brains out. I found this a big turn on, and a bit perplexing, because she had never been the leader in sex. This went on for weeks. I didn’t ask questions, I just enjoyed myself.

Then one Wednesday she came flying into the house, yanked me out of my chair, rushed me to the bedroom and tore off her leotard and shorts. She pulled my robe off and began to suck my cock into hardness. She then impaled herself on it and began to pound her body on me like a madwoman. Then I noticed that she had a black eye and had bruises on her body. As we came to an earthshaking climax, she yelled, “I did it! I’m the champ! I’m the greatest!” Then she fell on me, exhausted.

It seems that at the spa she had met a female instructor in the martial arts who had started boxing and wrestling classes for the women. Hilda had taken up boxing. They had trained with 16 ounce gloves and no protection. From what Hilda told me, and from what I heard later, it was a knockdown, drag out affair. They fought seven two minute rounds. Finally, one minute into the seventh, Hilda had her opponent on the ropes and was pummeling her when the ref put a stop to it. As Hilda related the story to me, she got all worked up again and we had another very satisfying sex session.

The upshot of this whole thing was that we took up boxing as a form of sexual foreplay. I got a set of 16 ounce gloves and headgear. We tried them out the following Saturday. My wife was a good boxer and I had trouble defending myself that night. We have since put a padded shag rug on our rec room floor and we go a few rounds three or four times a week with great sex following our workout.

Hilda goes to her boxing class once a week to stay sharp. I kid her by calling her Hilda the Great Nordic Hope. She’ll show me a fist and say, “Wait ’til I get you up against those ropes.”

I am five feet ten inches tall and 150 pounds. My wife, who is five eight, is back to her “fighting” weight of 140. Hilda and I have some very good bouts, but we are not out to hurt each other, just have some good clean fun.

We’ve heard that other women box with their husbands and have great sex afterward. One petite lady, 105 pounds, gets it on with her 150 pound man. He uses 16 ounce gloves and she uses 12 ounce ones. She beats the hell out of him and then fucks him into oblivion, much to his amazement.

Sometimes we have championship bouts where the winner takes all. Actually the winner gets the loser to perform any sexual favor the winner wants. We even made our own championship belt. The winner, usually Hilda, loves to circle her defeated opponent waving the belt in victory.

Hilda says boxing loosens her inhibitions and gives her a sense of power and confidence she never had before. But leave that for the psychologists to work out. All we know is, it’s fun to have a boxing match. The sexual results for us are wonderful. This happened four years ago and boxing is still a big turn on for us.

— Bernard A., Delaware

Even in these enlightened times, it’s not always easy to reveal your secret pleasures to your lover. I am a 28 year old woman who loves anal stimulation, but I was always too shy to mention it to the men I dated.

I had been dating Mark (now my husband) for about two months. He had made dinner for us at his apartment. During the course of the evening, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. To my surprise and delight, hanging from the shower rod was a red enema bag with hose and nozzle in place.

Upon my return to the living room, I casually asked Mark if he had been ill. He picked up on what I meant right away. He told me that he felt fine but he gave himself a couple of enemas a week and went for a high colonic every six weeks because he enjoyed them. He said that in the rush of shopping and cooking for our dinner, he had forgotten to put the enema bag away.

At that point, summoning up all my courage, I told him that I also enjoyed enemas and gave myself one whenever I was horny or to stimulate myself sexually. Needless to say, that old red enema bag got quite a workout that night.

We have been married for three years and still enjoy giving each other enemas, experimenting with different solutions and positions. I particularly like Mark to give me an enema while I lie on my back with my legs apart and my knees drawn up to my chest so he can use a vibrator on my pussy at the same time.

As for Mark, he loves to have me suck him off while he holds in the enema solution. After we were married, Mark confessed that he had purposely hung the enema bag in plain sight so that I would see it. He had noticed that I had very strong orgasms when he inserted his finger in my asshole and hoped that I would turn out to be as anally erotic as he is. Smart boy, my husband. — Alice A., Wisconsin

My wife Julie and I are both 27 years old and have been into bondage for the past two years. Julie is more submissive than I am, but the techniques we use can be applied to men as well. I travel during the week, so when I return home on Friday, we have sex until I go to work on Monday. Home is a renovated farmhouse on 30 acres of land, half farmland and half timberland.

Our living room has a 10 foot ceiling with exposed beams. On two of the beams are eyehooks from which Julie hangs, most often by her ankles, so that her hair barely touches the floor. During the winter we have a fire going and soon she is in a heavy sweat. When she receives a whipping on her buttocks her sweat causes the whip to sting that much more.

Sometimes I “torture” her with a long feather, running it along her legs and stomach and around her neck and arms. When Julie is suspended like this, it’s easy to tease her pussy and clit with licks and bites. She really loves to be kept on the brink of orgasm, not knowing when ecstasy will follow “agony.”

Recently Julie cam up with the idea of soaking elastic bandages in hot water, then wrapping them around the person who is hanging. (When we come up with a new idea we flip a coin to see who the victim will be.) I won the coin toss, and I was strung from the ceiling. Then Julie wrapped the bandages around my legs, stomach and chest, leaving my nipples exposed. When the bandages began to dry, my exposed ass and nipples became very sensitive. After applying the whip to my buttocks, and clothespins to my nipples, she inserted a dildo in my anus. To tease me further, she showed five bondage movies, and as we watched, she described in graphic detail what she would do next, then proceeded to do it.

For her birthday I ordered a special bra made of synthetic material with nipple holes. After she’d worn the bra for a few minutes, her nipples doubled in size. This made them very sensitive, especially when I attached the silver nipple rings.

We have a collection of pictures, and I take a few of these along on my trips. Julie is five feet ten inches tall (I’m five eleven) and has long tapered legs, a very snug behind and a bushy pussy. I called her a few minutes ago to read her this letter. She said I’d better not dally getting home this weekend because she has planned something special for me.

— David D., Vermont

I am a male, 24 years old, who has finally found complete sexual happiness. The reason? My wife, who completely understands my needs. Let me explain:

For as long as I can remember, I have truly enjoyed the physical sensation of a full bladder. Many, many times I have overestimated my holding ability and have wet myself. This happened on a date in college, and the girl I was with really enjoyed my embarrassment. We eventually got married, and today Delores delights in dreaming up new situations where I can’t hold my pee and wet myself. It turns us both on something fierce.

One of our favorites is when we go to a party. I am told to start holding my pee around noon. By the time we leave, I already have to go real bad. After some drinks, you can imagine my poor bladder. Especially beer, it is the worst. It fills me up after only one can. By this time, I’m really embarrassed and don’t want to go through with it. The only problem is that Delores has sewn or pinned my zipper shut so there’s no way I can go.

We tell the other guests that my zipper broke on the way over and that it was an emergency repair. In front of the others, I beg her to cut it open so I can go. She always replies that she will in a little bit, that she’s busy right now and I should hold my pee like an adult. The more I beg her to help me out, the more she ignores me. She also makes a point of telling the other guests about my plight.

Then comes that dreadful moment when I just can’t hold it anymore and urgently grab myself and make one last desperate plea. I’m in a different realm right now, concerned only with squeezing myself and holding the flow. Of course, it’s all to no avail. I stand there and pee in my pants. When it’s over, I have to spend the rest of the night with my pee stain showing on my pants and shoes while the other guests tease me.

By the time Delores and I arrive home, I’m as hard as a rock and her pussy is soaking. Our lovemaking is great!

— Stanley W., Tennessee