If I happen to click on your profile in my activities tab and you do not have an age in your bio, that is a block from me.
I'll also block you if you have any minors on your blog or if you are in the notes of a pic that clearly shows a minor.
Third reason is scammy accounts, but I doubt these are real people so it may not be that important to mention.
I haven't blocked a single blog for any other reason than those, so if you're here with your second account, you can choose which one it was.
It should not be hard to meet these requirements, so let's get to the fun part:
I write short stories and captions, have fun browsing my blog! Tags are pretty much random stuff that came to my head when posting, so you shouldn't really filter my blog by them (feel free to do so tho ;))
If you have fun questions for me, go ahead and post them - maybe that gets me motivated to spend more time on that blog again ^^
Also, please do make sure that your tumblr settings allow you to see posts with the 'mature' tag.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
[ABDL. F/f. Not the one you're thinking of.]
h/t @curiouslittletoddler, post here
Isabella was already on thin ice, and they hadn't even left the house yet. In just a few short hours she had lost panties privileges and was thickly diapered under her denim skirtall. She was slumped on the couch, kicking her feet left-right-left, resisting Hannah's patient attempts to put on her favorite chunky black shoes.
"Belly, if you don't stop kicking we're going to miss your hair appointment," Hannah said, her voice remaining soft though her eyes held a certain firmness. She held one shoe firmly in her grip while trying to guide Isabella's heel into the opening.
"Good. I don't even wanna go," Isabella huffed, giving a sudden, sharp jerk of her leg that nearly sent the shoe flying across the living room. "Shelly was mean to me last time, and didn't even cut my hair how I wanted!" She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, her lip curling into a pout.
Hannah sighed, the sound heavy with a mixture of affection and growing frustration. "First off, Shelly is nice." She set the shoe back down on the carpet and sat back on her heels. "She usually works on kids, so she's the only stylist who will put up with a--"
Hannah pounced, mid-sentence. "--squirmy! fussy! baby!" Her long, thin fingers tickled the soft, ample skin of Isabella's inner thighs, causing her to let out a sharp, involuntary giggle and clamp them shut.
Isabella tried to keep her face stern, but the corners of her mouth twitched. She retreated back into the sofa cushions, the thick padding of her diaper crinkling loudly under her. Within seconds, like it was a magic trick, her shoes were on.
Hannah stood up and smoothed out the front of her own cardigan, her gaze drifting toward the kitchen counter where a bowl of fruit sat. She reached in and plucked out a single, bright yellow banana. She held it out like a peace offering. "Eat this, crankypants. Your body is running on empty and you're making bad choices."
Clambering to her feet, Isabella looked at the fruit and then back at Hannah, her eyes narrowing. "Here's a fruit for you, mom," she said. Instead of taking the snack, she leaned forward and blew a loud, wet raspberry, the sound echoing in the quiet living room before she erupted into a fountain of giggles.
Hannah did not frown. She simply watched the display with a calm, knowing expression, her fingers busily unpeeling the banana. She stepped closer, the distance between them closing as Isabella tried to maintain her defiant posture. The younger girl's confidence wavered slightly when she noticed Hannah wasn't reacting with the frustration she had hoped for. Instead, Hannah's movement was fluid and precise, unbothered. The banana was pressed up to Isabella's lips. "Eat this before you regret it," Hannah whispered.
Isabella leaned back, shaking her head. She stepped to the side, trying to dance away from the offering. Twisting the door knob, she opened the front door. "Waiting on you, mom!" she chirped, escaping outside.
"At least you're out the door," Hannah muttered. As she locked the front door she inhaled a long, steeling breath.
"Actually, can we get Starbucks?" Isabella called out to her. "I am kinda hungry."
Hannah looked up from the door to her girlfriend. Isabella stood there with her hands on her hips, her expression expectant. She was pretending to be entirely oblivious to the frustration she was causing, and it felt electric.
"You look very cute in your outfit today," Hannah replied, closing the distance between them. "I especially like the part where your padded bottom falls out the bottom of your skirtall."
"What?" Isabella shouted, her hands traveling to her bottom, covering up. "I have to change! People are going to stare. H-hey, wait, what are you--"
With her single free hand, Hannah flipped up the back of Isabella's denim skirtall, the bright white diaper gleaming in the morning sun.
"Hannah!" Isabella shrieked, her voice so high it was almost a whisper.
Grabbing a handful of Isabella's diaper by the back of the waistband, Hannah spun her girlfriend around and bent her over the trunk of the car.
"Stop it, Hannah! Someone is going to see!" Isabella squealed, her face flushing a deep crimson. She twisted her torso, trying to peer over her shoulder at the quiet suburban street. The neighbors' lawns were manicured and empty, but the mere possibility of a curtain twitching in a nearby window sent a jolt of panic through her. She felt the cool morning breeze hit her thighs, then, the waistband of her diaper being pulled away from the small of her back, then... something was dropped into it.
Distressingly, it nestled in right against her bottom. Isabella wasn't in control of the weird little "Ew-ew-ew-ew-" sounds she heard her mouth making. The sensation in the back of her diaper was immediate and jarring, a slippery invader that didn't belong there. She wiggled her hips, but the movement only served to seat it more deeply between her cheeks.
Hannah didn't let her wiggle for long. She kept a firm grip on Isabella's waist, ensuring she remained bent over the trunk. Without a word of warning, Hannah's hand came down in a sharp, ringing smack. The sound was muffled by the thickness of the diaper, but the impact was visceral. Isabella gasped, her eyes widening, then tearing up a little, as she felt the foreign object in her diaper flatten and burst. The first spank had crushed it, and the second one smeared it all over the inside.
The sensation was overwhelmingly weird. The slippery mush was now pressed firmly against her skin, coating her bottom in a soft, creamy mess. Every subsequent swat from Hannah only served to massage it further into the padding, pushing it into every crevice. Isabella let out a soft, whimpering noise, her toes curling in her shoes. It felt like a lukewarm, gooey accident that she couldn't stop, and the sheer wrongness of the texture made her stomach flip with a mixture of embarrassment and thrill. It was then that the smell finally reached her: Banana.
Hannah finally released her grip, stepping back with a look of serene satisfaction. She reached out to smooth the denim skirtall back down, carefully hiding the diaper beneath its folds.
Isabella sniffled. "You put the fucking banana in my diaper?" she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and indignation. She tried to step forward, but the movement felt wrong. With every shift, the mashed fruit squelched against her skin, sliding around in a way that felt disturbingly natural. The bulk of the diaper kept the mess contained, but the internal sensation was vivid, a slippery coating that clung to her.
"Aww, Belly had a messy accident already?" Hannah cooed, her voice dripping with a sweetness that felt almost predatory. She reached out to pinch Isabella's flushed cheek, completely ignoring the swear word. "Well this is a problem! You're all squishy-icky, and we're already so late for the salon..."
Isabella looked up at Hannah, her eyes brimming with tears of frustration. This was so creative! So fucking weird! She loved it. She fucking hated it.
"I'll change you after your hair cut, okay sweetie?" Hannah whispered, her thumb brushing away a stray tear from Isabella's cheek.
The promise was a cruel mercy, as Isabella knew exactly what that meant: stewing in a messy diaper for an hour, then a public change in the back seat of the car. The sheer indignity of the situation, coupled with the secret, slippery mess hidden beneath her babyish skirtall, sent a wave of intense arousal surging through her.
Hannah opened the rear passenger door and gestured for her to get in, her expression calm and maternal, though her eyes danced with a playful sort of mischief.
Isabella crashed into Hannah with a hug, burying her face in Hannah's bosom. "I hate you so much," she murmured through the fabric with affection.
Hannah laughed, kissing the top of Isabella's head before patting her bottom and gently guiding her into the back seat.
The climb into the car was an ordeal. Isabella found herself hovering over the seat cushion, unexcited to sit down and press her messy bottom against it. Hannah 'helped' with a firm press down on her shoulders. The goo in her diaper sluiced up her front and back. Isabella felt disgusting. Isabella felt overwhelmed. Isabella felt more turned on than she had in weeks.
---
"You smell so good today!" Shelly exclaimed as Isabella waddled into the salon and gingerly sat down in the tall hydraulic chair. She tried to sit as lightly as possible, but the sheer volume of the diaper forced her hips wide, and the moment she tried to clamp them together to correct it, she felt a slow, wet slide of banana mush migrate across her nethers. It was a lukewarm, cloying sensation that made her want to giggle and scream at the same time.
"Like a tropical breeze," Hannah chimed in from a chair in the waiting area. "She normally just smells like pee," she added when Shelly walked out of earshot. Isabella shot her a look. Hannah blew raspberries.
Shelly draped the black nylon cape around Isabella, the fabric snapping shut with a crisp sound. As the stylist began combing through the damp strands of her hair, Isabella found it impossible to not squirm in place. Even when she wasn't moving around, the banana mush would shift the smallest bit, like it had a mind of its own. She felt four of Shelly's fingers press into her scalp, locking her head into place.
"Please stay still, sweetie, or I'm afraid I'm going to snip a chunk out of your bangs," Shelly warned with a gentle laugh. Isabella bit her lip, staring at her own reflection in the mirror, her face a mask of concentrated effort.
From the corner of her eye, Isabella could see Hannah watching. Hannah wasn't looking at her phone or reading a magazine; she was simply leaning back with her legs crossed, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. Every time Isabella let out a tiny, involuntary whimper or shifted her weight, Hannah would slowly blink, smile absently. Enjoying the show.
As the appointment stretched on, Isabella eventually settled in. She closed her eyes, tried to astral project out of her gross diaper, until a twinge in her bladder snapped her back. Most diaper demotion days, Isabella desperately wanted to keep herself dry, maintaining a tiny shred of pride, a smidge of resistance against Hannah's tyranny. But today, her diaper was already wrecked, and the pressure was becoming an insistent throb.
Isabella looked toward Hannah, her eyes pleading uselessly, but the older girl merely tilted her head, her expression one of a question. She tried to hold it, squeezing her muscles and legs tight, but the effort only pushed the fruit mash deeper into her creases. The sensation of the banana was already so intrusive, so overwhelming, that the idea of adding to the mess felt inevitable. She looked at the mirror, seeing her own flushed cheeks and wide eyes, and felt a wave of surrender wash over her.
She stopped fighting. Isabella let out a long, shaky breath and consciously released the tension in her abdomen. A warmth bloomed between her legs, a sudden, rushing flood that mingled with the slippery texture of the fruit as the diaper swelled, pushed her thighs apart ever so slightly. The feeling was decadent and utterly humiliating, a heavy, sodden weight.
Hannah's smile widened. She didn't say a word, but the way she shifted in her seat told Isabella that the "accident" had not gone unnoticed. Isabella slumped back, her resistance entirely gone. She could only sit there, trapped in a swivel chair under a nylon cape, squishing softly, helpless but to wait until she was released.
---
"Her hair looks really fantastic, Shel," Hannah said, tapping her credit card to the screen. "Say thank you, Belly."
Isabella barely managed a mumbled thank you and a smile, her face a deep shade of peony. The cape had been whipped away, and the sudden absence of the fabric made her feel exposed, despite her denim skirtall. She stood awkwardly, her saturated padding slumping heavily between her legs. The mixture of the mashed banana and the fresh warmth created a thick, viscous sludge that clung to her skin, making her waddle more pronounced than ever. Every step toward the exit was a silent squelch, a soft, wet, personal ick taped around her waist.
Hannah reached out and slid her fingers between Isabella's, gripping her hand in a firm, guiding hold. The warmth of Hannah's palm was a stark contrast to the cold dread pooling in Isabella's diaper. As they stepped out into the sunlight, Hannah slowed her pace, intentionally dragging her feet just a bit. This forced Isabella to maintain a slow, deliberate gait, ensuring that each step was a conscious encounter with the mess she was carrying. Isabella tried to keep her eyes on the sidewalk, but she could feel Hannah's thumb rubbing circles against her knuckles, a gesture that was far too sweet for the situation.
"It's funny," she said. "The fuller your diapers, the better you behave!" Hannah's voice was light, almost sing song, as she guided Isabella toward the parking lot. Isabella let out a small, muffled huff, her shoulders slouching. She felt like a giant, soggy marshmallow. "Why would I want to change your diaper and lose my sweet, obedient little girl?"
Isabella stopped in her tracks, tugged Hannah back, squeezed her hand between her two sweaty palms. "You have to!" she shouted, louder than she meant to.
The sudden outburst made a passing shopper glance their way, and Isabella immediately shrunk back, her face heating up again. "Please!" she hissed.
Hannah let out a soft chuckle and resumed leading the way back to the car. She didn't rush, treating the walk as a leisurely stroll despite the fact that Isabella was practically vibrating with a mixture of discomfort and anticipation. Every time Isabella tried to speed up, Hannah would gently tighten her grip on her hand, reminding her that the pace was entirely up to the caregiver. By the time they reached the rear passenger door, Isabella was walking up in her tiptoes. "It's locked!" she whined, tugging the handle fruitlessly.
Hannah retrieved the changing mat from the trunk, shutting it before unlocking the car with the fob. "So fussy!" she cooed, opening the door and spreading out the mat for her girlfriend.
Isabella practically dove into the backseat. She tried to avoid looking out the windows, did not want to see if any customers were loading their bags into cars just a few yards away. Her eyes were on the prize. She'd never been so excited for a fresh diaper.
Hannah deftly unfastened the tapes, the sound of the adhesive peeling away feeling like a thunderclap. "Shh, just relax, Belly," she whispered, pulling a thick, scentless wet wipe from a travel pack. The first swipe was cold but so, so welcome, cutting through the warm, sticky sludge of banana and urine. Isabella gasped, her body arching instinctively as she heard the distant sound of a car door slamming nearby. She squeezed her eyes shut, terrified that someone would glance through the window and see her stripped down and being scrubbed like a toddler. She could feel Hannah's fingers working methodically, cleaning every fold of her skin with an agonizingly slow precision.
"Someone is looking!" Isabella whimpered, her voice barely a breath. She could feel the air on her bare skin, the vulnerability of her position making her heart hammer against her ribs. She tried to pull her skirtall down to cover herself, but Hannah gently but firmly pushed her hands away.
"If they are, they can see exactly how a brat gets taken care of," Hannah replied, her voice a calm contrast to Isabella's panic. She stood up, unfolding the new diaper outside the car, fluffing it up in plain view of everybody.
"Stop!" Isabella whined. "Put that down!"
Hannah blew her another raspberry, ducking back down and sliding the diaper under Isabella's bottom before shaking a cloud of baby powder over her skin.
"Jerk," Isabella muttered, crossing her arms. The powder felt cool against her skin, blessedly dry. She lay there for a moment, blinking up at the car ceiling, feeling small and stripped of every layer of adult dignity. Hannah was clearly enjoying every second, smoothing the front of the diaper against Isabella's tummy, ensuring the fit was snug and secure before sticking all the tapes. With a heavy exhale she tugged the hem of her skirtall down. The ordeal was over.
Just as Isabella tried to sit up, Hannah shifted. Instead of stepping away, she leaned in, her weight pressing Isabella back down into the plush seat of the car. Hannah sprawled herself on top of her, her chest resting against Isabella's, her hair falling like a curtain around their faces. The sudden proximity shifted the mood, the maternal sternness melting into something softer, more intimate. Hannah’s eyes searched Isabella’s, a playful glint of desire mixing with the caregiver's authority. She shifted her hips, settling firmly against the thick, fresh padding of Isabella's diaper, making the plastic crinkle loudly beneath them.
Hannah’s hand traveled up, her fingers tangling in Isabella's freshly trimmed hair. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Isabella's ear, her breath warm and smelling faintly of the coffee they had’t gotten yet. "You've had a very big morning, haven't you, Belly?" she whispered, her voice dropping an octave, turning husky and teasing. She let her weight sink in, pinning Isabella to the upholstery in a way that felt both suffocating and intoxicating. The vulnerability of the diaper was still there, but the physical heat of Hannah's body was starting to drown it out.
Hannah pulled back just enough to look Isabella in the eye, a smirk dancing on her lips. She trailed a finger down Isabella's neck, pausing just above the collar of her shirt. "Now that you're clean and cozy again, tell me," Hannah murmured, her gaze intensifying. "Are you going to be a good girl for the rest of the day?"
Isabella felt her heart race, the threat of another mess mixing with the thrill of all those disgusting, lovely feelings. She wanted to say yes, to be the perfect little girl and earn back her panties, but the lingering spark of mischief in her chest wouldn't let her concede so easily. She looked up at Hannah, her expression shifting from a pout to a playful, challenging grin.
Bananas are a great tool for behavior correction! I propose that you keep at least two bananas on hand at all times.
The first one is a warning sign for your little. It doesn't have to be a banana actually, any fruit is fine. You just ask "You are kinda cranky sweetie. Care for a little snack?"
In case of more extreme behavior, or if you're just feeling a little devious, you can skip the first step and go straight to the second one: The peeled banana goes straight into the back of your littles pants. Nothing humbles a cranky little as much as a messy bum that does not need to be taken care of. Why is that? Well, the banana does not smell bad and it doesn't irritate really the skin. It just sits in the back of the diaper (or even underpants, it really does not matter) and does its job. You can stuff it there in like 30 seconds, and that also means that you can basically do that anywhere.
Beginning from that moment, both you and your little will know that you can 'discover' that accident when you're ready to really punish that behavior. Will you put a diaper over their underpants? Will the cleanup feature a butt plug to aid "keeping that tooshie shut"? You've got enough time to come up with fun follow ups, and in the meantime, it puts your little right where you want them to be: With a messy bum, dreading what will follow :)
We never had "the talk". She didn't need to sit me down and confess her naughty fantasy to me and talk me into trying it. All she needed to do was give me that little initial nudge and then reward me for following the steps she offered me to take.
She started it as a joke. I had always been a bit of a "dribbler" - not in a pee my pants-manner, I've just always had a very steady flow of precum the second I got horny. Don't get me wrong: This was never a problem! There's no such thing as too much lubrication when it comes to sex, at least in my opinion.
She was the first one to bring it up, and boy was that an orgasm. I hadn't been active for a while, and when she pulled my underpants down, she let out a bright laugh: "Wow, if I didn't know better I'd say you're done already! Your undies are soaked mister!"
As I mentioned, this was never something that I was selfconcious about. Under regular circumstances, I would have been at this point of course. However, what followed to that sentence was the weirdest dirty talk I had ever experienced up until then.
"You know what should happen to little boys who can't keep their pants dry?"
At this point, I didn't know where this was going. "They - they get punished?" I stammered.
Again, she chuckled. Which typically wouldn't have been something that I wanted a woman to do when I was lying there with my dick pointed straight as a die up in the air, but her sudden confidence turned me on more than that compassionate laugh.
"No dummy! We're not in the 1970s anymore. Today, little boys -" she explained while starting to go to town on me, "just have to wear some cute protective undies if they have little accidents. And if I look at the state of your boxers, you might have to be put into some pullups as well!"
Stop. Don't judge me. Yes, a normal guy would have stopped her right there and asked her what went through her head to make her believe THAT was good dirty talk. But you don't know what she was doing to me while saying that. I don't know, but overnight, it seems like she had turned into an absolute sex monster. No guy, especially not after a bit of abstinence, would have pushed that woman from him. Even though it was weird, the orgasm I had while she whispered "you're just a little dribbling pullup boy" into my ear surpassed every single one I've had before that day.
And afterwards? I had just shrugged it off as some weird but hot intermezzo in our otherwise standard and somewhat dull sex life. That's why my story doesn't end here.
One or two weeks later, she pushed me down and climbed on top of me again. This time however, she immediately pulled out a blue little rectangle. I'd learn that that was called a "Drynite" later on, but in the heat of the moment, I only really realized that she had exchanged my boxers for pullups when she pulled the bedwetting pants over my hips.
Yes, at that point I dared to stammer some butchered variation of "What are you doing?", but my attempt of a protest was shushed away and dare I say, countered with some valid points.
"Men don't need foreplay" my ass, seriously. Have you ever been seduced for an eternity? Until all it takes to bring you over the edge is like, two strokes in her? Anyways, what followed to that pullup was another highlight of my sex life. It was the first time that I had been devoured. And when she finally pulled that pullup to the side and made me explode in her, it had definitely absorbed quite a bit of my fluids.
She ripped that thing off of me and put it into the trash while I was still panting. Nonetheless, I asked another time: "What was that?"
She shrugged it off, pulled her cupped hand from between her legs and showed me the gooey sperm that was dribbling out of her. "I don't know" my girlfriend shrugged, "but it seems like you liked it"
Yes yes yes. I know. The counterargument isn't as strong in retrospective as it seemed to be when I was standing in the bathroom butt-naked. But it was a one-time occurence. For like a month, everything went back to normal. I'd initiate sex like I always would, she'd give in or not, missionary, bit of cuddling afterwards. Same procedure as every time. But you know, he who has tasted flight will walk the earth with his eyes turned skyward.
So when she pulled out one of the blue rectangles again, I bit my lip in anticipation, and she noticed that. Once again, I was seduced until I was nothing but a bibbering mess. When she finally pulled the padded garment to the side and slid my member into her, it felt like heaven again. This time, I held out a little longer, but that only made it better. Only that in this instance, after I was done, she pulled the soaked padding over my shrinking little man and told me to wait until she came back from the bathroom. Still panting, I obliged, and when she came back, she managed to open another door in the corridor of my sex life.
You see, in real life, most guys cannot go for round two after their girlfriends took a quick piss and came back to the bedroom. But it turns out that an ordinary vibrator on slightly soggy bit of padding can get you around that.
At that point, I had picked up the pattern. And you cannot blame me for not backing out of this one. Go ahead and show me the guy who would throw away the magic button that turns his girlfriend into a raging sexmonster on demand, I'll wait! Even if that means letting her put you into a freakin' diaper and saying "I'm your good little dribbling boy", no one would pass on that.
So of course, at that point, she knew that she had the reigns in her hands. I wasn't gonna stop her. Soon, the pack of drynites went into my underwear drawer. Every morning when I pulled it open, I had the choice between underwear and something that "looks and feels like underwear" - if you trust that slogan. It only took two times of "back to normal" before I finally made a move. One late night after a long day at work, I snatched one from the drawer. It was kind of a brave bet, but when she joined me after she was done with the dishes, all it took for me to get my reward was one well planned bend down in my pyjamas to present the waistband of my undergarment. I was rewarded immediately. The realization that I, on my own, had put on that little skimpy pullup lit the same spark as before in her, and after she was done with me, I just crashed.
This night was the first night in a very long time that I'd sleep in a diaper.
Beginning in that night, I used my recently discovered magic trick more and more. No matter how far I pushed it, I was not able to find borders in my girlfriends flaring-up libido. It was the best thing that could happen to me. Soon enough, I put one on almost every day before going to bed. More and more often, I'd find myself waking up in the remains of round two. Once I realized that number three in the morning was on the table if I just slipped into one after my morning shower, I took another step down onto the slippery slope of whatever path my girlfriend had prepared for me. Soon enough, I found myself at work wearing a drynite. And when I went to check my phone in my break, I was greeted with a very enticing appetizer for what was to come when I got home.
The diaper isle had become a regular stop when getting groceries. I know, when you're eagerly throwing pack after pack in the shopping cart, you should realize that something is up. But hell, I had fun. And my girlfriend as well. Win win. Arguably, me wearing these 'special panties' more often did not lead to more sex at this point. More orgasms, yes. But I spewed most of them right into the drynites I was wearing. Another warning sign, but hell, orgasm is orgasm. And it wasn't like I was missing out on stuff due to my sex addiction. No, in fact, my girlfriend got better and better at effectively managing me.
Did I ever pee in them? No. No, I did not. Until one day, some handymen had to turn off the water in our apartment. It seemed so perfectly logical when she proposed for me to use it. And (you know how it goes) when she pulled out the magic wand to overcome hindrance of the sodden padding, I had a hunch that I could get more.
More and more and more. I was derailed at this point. Peeing my pants became normal. The first leak on our couch was quickly forgotten when she had me begging for real diapers while pressing the magic wand in the mushy pullup in my groin. With the thick night time diapers that were delivered the next week, pulling the diapers to the side was not an option anymore. Didn't matter to me. Once a day after coming home from work was enough; it wasn't like I was lasting long anyways. My PR was two minutes, and with every second she shaved off of my time, be it with sex or with the vibrator in my crotch, she rewarded me with even more orgasms. No diaper went into the trash without at least two loads in there.
But my girlfriend was not done with me. Again, she started to dial back the orgasms. Coasting along was not an option with the frequency that I had gotten used to, so I started to look for the next step. And asked her to stop buying pullups. The changing "rubbies" had become a very welcome variety in the monotone humming of the vibrator, therefore - you guessed it - I asked for daytime diapers.
Soon after, I realized my underpants weren't coming back from the wash. I didn't ask about it. I counted them, and thought about how long it would be until I'd wear my last pair. And started to wonder what I'd have to do next to keep my girlfriend riled up.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
You could take it off. You don't have to wear all of this.
It's not really a problem to get ready for bed for a second time all by yourself. After all, you're a grown-up, perfectly capable of getting ready for bed. Then again, you're also eager to please. Can't you withstand the urge to tear it all off, just because you had a little humping session? Don't get me wrong, you were almost expected to give in to the urge - it was crystal clear that you'd be wet before you got to bed. Hence the extra stuffers and the extra all-in-one cloth diaper on top of your regular diaper, just to be safe.
And we both know how worked up you can get when you get wet. Despite the strange friday evening ritual that you went through before your gaming session, it's also perfectly logical for you to have a little me-time before going to bed: After gaming with your friends, sitting there, slurping wine (because after all, you're a grown up! Regardless of the sippy cup) with your partner long gone to bed in order to be ready for the early saturday shift, there's just one thing left to do for you...
No, no, you can't be blamed for your little urges. You will also not get blamed if you give in to the resulting urges, and strip yourself completely naked again.
But it just does not make sense. You're tired, you'll probably sleep in so late that you'll get woken up by your partner returning from their shift. Why would you get actively unready for bed now? Is it that bad that you really need to get out of all of this, strip your partner of their pleasure when they get home tomorrow?
Is it really bad enough that you would stretch yourself until you've reached that teeny tiny zipper on the back of the oversized sleeping bag you're wearing and put it off? And afterwards squeeze out of the onesie, only to be left alone with the task of deconstructing those layers of diapers you're wrapped in? Clean off all of the rash cream and powder, the little bits of pee that have dried on top of this layer, just to look for something else to slip in for the night? Will you even find something, after you've donated your old pajamas to goodwill?
The two-piece pajamas with the Llama on the chest should be out of the laundry. But you'd have to turn on the light to find them in your wardrobe.
Not very considerate, no matter how you turn it.
No, a reasonable adult would ditch all of that effort and just crawl into bed as silently as possible.
And if you roleplay a little bit as the toddler you're dressed up as? Well, you wouldn't get past the first zipper, let's be honest. And you'd probably be put right back into an even more secure outfit. Maybe the mittens would come out again. Judging by your shiver, it seems like the brief moment of clarity after that humping session is already wearing off, huh?
No, no. No matter how you twist it, no matter how you contemplate, it just makes sense to choose the path of least resistance and go to bed the way you are right now.
Don't forget to have some water to fight the effects of the wine. And when you awake with your hair as messy as your undergarment, you'll probably have your squelchy porridge in that squelchy seat of yours before it's time to earn your cleanup. And that's a better "thank you" than going through all of this hassle for no reason at all. Something to look forward to as well, because the usual procedure would mean a round two for you as well, right?
Thought so.
As exhausted as you are, you fall asleep before the last drops from that sippy cup of water have dribbled out of you. Great choice.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
CG who enforces mandatory nr.3s during changes >>>>
This is not about your pleasure though. That is simply a measurement to ensure that you do NOT get involved in non-baby activities but instead act as cute and coy as you would expect from a pacifier-suckling baby-powder smelling little crinkling pack of joy
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Lustiges Taschenbuch - Band 277 - Dabei sein ist alles
I remember reading this as a kid and getting all excited about this absurd and provocative story - it's not sexual, but since this could very well be the plot to a tumblr smut short story, I thought I'd share it. It is in German, but a comic after all and it's probably possible to find that story in english as well. Have fun reading!
