The Concert

Hi, This is a very short tale based on something a friend told me about last night.

The Concert

I was almost at the front, forced up against a few fans that were equally tightly pressed up against the walkway. The place was heaving as you’d expect for one of her concerts. When Kylie appears the boys flock in their thousands to pay homage and enjoy the little lady’s spectacular show.

I was happily crushed against the walkway, from experience I knew she’d be doing a lot of parading out into the audience as she sang her hits and danced in her fabulous costumes. I wasn’t alone in knowing this because hundreds of other fans jostled against me as this gay icon of icons did her thing.

The boys as usual went berserk and it stepped up a gear when her horny male dancers took to the stage and added their own brand of homoerotic jiggling. Hell, I nearly came in my pants several times when the crowd surged forward as the guys bounced and posed all across the stage. She seems to surround herself with only the most athletic and good-looking guys… and who can blame her?

Like this entire audience I love this woman and she can do no wrong as she sang her way through her hits. I could feel the crowd surging against me all the way through the show as we all bounced up and down in excitement. I love the way her enthusiastic fans scream and get involved at every show and I have learned from past concerts to be prepared for a brilliant time. With all her costume changes and erotic dancers the show never stops being a spectacular, high energy performance every time.

However, being in such an enthusiastic crush, and being pressed up against equally excitable fans, I have learned that taking a toilet break is not a good idea. To keep at such an advantageous point where I can see Kylie and feel the crowd as they surge up and down in their exhilaration, it’s best to be prepared for a long show. That means I wear a thick nappy and plastic pants under my loose fitting pants. I can lose the drink I have undoubtedly consumed before the show and not lose my place. It also means that as I wriggle and bounce up against the backside of some other besotted fan, which thankfully is often a sweet enthusiastic gay boy like myself, I reach my own orgasm, which is deftly kept soaking, with my pee, into the diaper.

The sensation of my hard dick, shoved up against some little sweetie’s backside, rubbing up and down in my damp nappy is absolutely glorious. The plastic pants slipping, unobtrusively, against his pert, unaware youthful bottom adding yet another level of excitement to an already overloaded exciting situation, gives me multiple orgasms. I need my nappy to save me from total embarrassment, which is what happened a few years earlier at a similar type of show. The front of my pants was just a huge sodden gooey mass and everyone seemed to be smirking as I left the stadium. That’s why I now wear my secret yet useful protection, whilst being wrapped in such a way makes me feel wonderful. I then wear and use them for as long as I can before I have to discard them and check for the inevitable rash… because invariably I’ve left them on for too long.

Of course I’m not the only one who uses this mass of screaming and adoring fans as an excuse to let their inhibitions go. At the end of the show my mate pointed to the cum stains up the back of a cute boy’s jeans where he ‘innocently’ got over excited so used him and the situation to pleasure himself.

Now that’s what I call a sex show.