Phonesex with Felicity 1844-332-2639 x 270

Your wife called me again. Seems as though someone isn’t obeying orders. You haven’t been wearing your diapers to work like Mama Felicity instructed. I’m so glad at least one of you is honest with me. I drove over right away. The thick, prink diaper bag over my shoulder as I stood on your front porch and knocked on the door.

You opened it, startled to see me. Even leaning in close and hissing, “Felicity, what are you doing here? My neighbors will see you?”

Front Porch Diapering

 

With a knowing smile, I looked around. Awe, the perfect suburban neighborhood. People milling about doing yard work or sitting on their own front porches watching the comings and goings of their neighbors. It’d be a shame if I pulled you out here onto the porch for a diaper change.

Grabbing you by the belt, I tug you out onto the open porch and out of the safety of your house. “What’s this?” I ask, pulling your pants open to check for the diaper I know you aren’t wearing.

“Stop!” you plead. “Not here.”

“Yes, here! If you had been a good boy and kept your diapers on at work, I wouldn’t have to publicly humiliate you this way. You made this choice. Hands on the railing now!” I bark, and you can’t help but comply. Hand against the railing, facing your curious neighbors, I pull down your pants and underwear. Unfolding a huge, pink diaper to tuck between your legs and tape it uptight. “There, now we can talk about the last time you made cummies.”

 

Phonesex with Felicity 1844-332-2639 x 270

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