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I have my own personal adult diaper baby. Can you believe it? At first, I never thought I’d be into it. Hell, I never thought he’d be into it either. But here we are, my fingers tracing against the soft, cotton edge of his diaper while his cock strains against the fabric like it’s begging to be freed from the Velcro snaps.
It started as a joke you know. Bobby and I were talking about kinks one night, tipsy off a bottle of something dark and dangerous, and he admitted it—he likes wearing diapers. All the time! Not for necessity, not for age play, but just because. “It makes me feel safe. Like I am being … taken care of” he said in a low voice as if he was confessing a sin. I didn’t laugh, cringe, nothing. I just got curious…
Now, he’s in my bed, sprawled out with nothing on but that thick, padded vice hugging his hips. It shouldn’t turn me on the way it does, but fuck—IT DOES!! Maybe, it’s the vulnerability of it you know the way he looks at me with those sultry blue eyes, waiting for my next move. Maybe it’s the Continue reading “My Adult Diaper Baby”