ass toys

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I stepped into the little storefront on the corner of Pine and Mistletoe, expecting only the comforting scent of peppermint and cocoa. What greeted me instead was a dazzling, over‑the‑top Christmas candy shoppe that doubled as something far naughtier. The walls were lined with jars of bright red gumdrops, sugar‑coated pretzels, and candy‑cane swirls, but nestled among those innocent treats were an assortment of sex toys that had been cheekily fashioned to look like confections.

As I meandered past the peppermint bark displays, I couldn’t help but notice a glossy, peppermint‑flavored dildo that shimmered like a giant crystallized candy cane. Its sleek, curved silhouette promised a delightfully deep, throbbing rhythm for anyone brave enough to indulge! Next, I saw a row of strawberry‑filled chocolate truffles. Each one was meticulously molded to a different size. Upon closer inspection, I realized they were in fact an array of vibrating butt plugs!

Continue reading “on the corner of Pine and Mistletoe”

snowman sex

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Barnaby the Snowman wasn’t like the typical, friendly, button-eyed fellow you see on Christmas cards. His broad, muscled torso was comprised of meticulously packed and sculpted powder, but what really snagged my attention was the sheer architectural ambition of his midsection and the monster carrot dick that stood straight out between his snow covered balls. This snowman was more man than snow!

“Well, hello there, handsome,” I whispered, brushing an errant flake off his coal eye. I knew it was absurd to flirt with an inanimate frozen object, but Barnaby radiated a silent, powerful magnetism. The impulse to touch him became overwhelming. The shock of the cold was electric and immediate. Maybe it was just the wind, but in my heightened state, it sounded like he wanted me to press myself against his icy body. I swore he told me to.

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cock size

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It was another one of our infamous “Mama Meet-Ups,” a glorious gathering of us doting ABDL Mamas, where the coffee flowed, the gossip swirled, and, inevitably, the “boys” became the star of every conversation. I always looked forward to seeing my dear friends, Sarah and Jessica, knowing full well what delightful (and slightly competitive) chatter lay ahead. Our living rooms, usually adorned with adult-sized baby gear and pastel colors, transformed into arenas where we’d playfully boast about our boys, their latest achievements, their prodigious appetites, and, well, their more personal “assets.”

No sooner had the kettle whistled its last tune and the first round of cocoa been served, than Sarah, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, leaned forward and whispered “Oh, you guys simply wouldn’t believe what my Big Max did this morning! He filled out his special ‘super-duper-absorbent’ diaper like it was tailor-made, bulging in all the right places, of course. He’s just getting so robust, you know!”

Continue reading “Tiny Timmy and The Mama Meet-Up”

boobs

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Oh, Bryan. From the moment he walked into the room, my internal “boob-dar” (a finely tuned instrument I’ve developed over many years of living with these glorious twin peaks) started pinging like crazy. He had that particular glint in his eye, the one that said, “Yes, I see the whole woman standing before me, but also…have you seen those things?” I like to think of myself as having a reasonably charming personality, a witty repartee, and eyes that sparkle with mischief, but Bryan? His gaze, bless his heart, seemed to have been surgically realigned to a precise latitude just below my chin.

Our conversation was punctuated by an almost comical pattern. He’d start a sentence while his eyes valiantly attempted to meet mine, only for them to drift south with an almost gravitational pull before he’d catch himself. He’d blush slightly and restart with renewed (but fleeting) determination. I’m used to it, of course; being a woman of ample tittage means you develop a certain resilience, but with Bryan, it was less about objectification and more about an endearing, almost scientific fascination. He simply couldn’t help himself. Honestly, it was kind of adorable.

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sissy girl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

A mischievous grin spread across my face as I saw “Sissy Girl” flash on the screen. I tapped accept, wondering what adorable display she had cooked up for Mama tonight, knowing full well she’d be decked out in something impossibly cute, probably with a tell-tale bulge peeking from under her chosen ensemble.

“Mama!” a high-pitched squeal erupted from the speaker, and there she was, Emily – my sissy girl – beaming at me, while practically vibrating with excitement. She waddled closer to the camera, proudly showcasing her latest ‘outfit,’ a truly magnificent riot of color: a pastel rainbow onesie, ruffled bloomers peeking out from beneath, and even striped knee-high socks that mismatched just enough to be utterly charming. “Look, Mama! Look what I’m wearing!” she exclaimed, twirling clumsily to give me a full 360-degree view. Her cheeks were flushed with pride.

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abdl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I knew the moment I walked into the gaming room that the fun was over. The odor that greeted me was not just a smell; it was an airborne structural warning. A thick, insistent presence that suggested something prehistoric had recently perished inside a snug plastic shell. Little Timmy, all six-foot-two of him, was trying desperately to look inconspicuous. His eyes were glued to the TV screen as if focusing hard enough could make the problem vanish into the digital ether. The faint squish sound that accompanied his every subtle shift in position, betrayed his feeble attempt at denial.

“Timmy,” I announced, my voice sickly sweet despite the emergency, “I think we need to have a little chat about the structural integrity of your current diaper situation…” He just groaned dramatically, confirming what I already knew: I didn’t get paid enough for this environmental hazard mitigation, especially when the offending item was a premium, extra-capacity, nighttime Pampers that had clearly failed its crucial mission.

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spooky abdl blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Leo was a gentle giant, and seeing him in his Halloween costume always brought a fond smile to my face. “All ready, my little T-Rex?” I cooed, adjusting the scales on his neck. He rumbled, a sound that was more purr than roar, and nodded. Decked out in my own witch costume and looking a bit more gothic than glittery, I grabbed his oversized candy bucket.

Our first few houses were normal enough. Leo showed off his stomping gait, polite “trick-or-treats,” and handfuls of candy. But, as we ventured further into the older part of town, the houses became more isolated and the decorations became more…well, authentic. Cobwebs hung thick and real from unkept bushes, and the air grew colder with each step.

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cheating

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It was time to put my loser boyfriend’s cock-sucking, ego-swallowing needs where his mouth was. So, I set the wheels in motion to have some fun without him, flirting shamelessly with a handsome stranger at the bar. The way he looked at me, hung up on every word, made my pussy clench. I took his hand, leading him to the hotel room I’d booked.

As the door clicked shut, I undressed slowly, turning to give him a full view of my body – firm breasts, toned legs, the glistening pussy juice gathering between my legs. He couldn’t take his eyes off me. I loved the hunger in his gaze, the desperation. It only fueled my own arousal. I pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, and ground my wet pussy against that bulge in his pants.

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wetting pants

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I was standing impatiently in the endless line for the artisanal coffee stand when my attention drifted to a man near the condiment station. He looked utterly normal, mid-forties, sporting the kind of practical, slightly too-long khaki shorts that scream “I own a reliable minivan and believe strongly in SPF 50.” He was fiddling intently with a massive travel mug, his brow furrowed in concentration, which made him a captivating, if mildly mundane, subject for my habitual people-watching session. Which is essentially my only viable defense against the soul-crushing boredom of waiting for overpriced caffeine.

Then it happened, with a swift, silent efficiency that defied the laws of polite public existence. My eye, tracking the slight shuffle of his feet as he adjusted his weight, caught a dark spot blooming rapidly on the front of those sensible khaki shorts, right where the pocket met the thigh, and it was spreading with an alarming, undeniable velocity. Initially, my brain tried to categorize the event as a catastrophic coffee spill—perhaps a sudden rupture in the travel mug’s sealing mechanism.

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abdl mommy

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I know that silence is never a good sign when Timmy is supposed to be playing with his blocks. When I take a peek in his room, there he is, huddled awkwardly against the beanbag chair. His face is flushed scarlet, avoiding my gaze. I’ve only seen him do this when he’s deliberately done something he knows he shouldn’t have.

As I approach, and the air around him begins to change. The usual scent of baby powder is replaced with a humid, musky heaviness that confirms my deepest suspicion. My naughty boy didn’t hold it, and he certainly didn’t ask Mommy for help. Which now creates a significant problem we have no choice but to address.

Continue reading “Timmy Has A Messy Diaper”