Trading Post

Yea...i don't 'spray and pray' when I'm engaged in sexy time with my woman.  Not to be too graphic but it is almost always 'deposited' in whatever orifice we're using at the time.  I don't even like seeing the 'spray' in porno's either.  I'm not here to yuck someone else's yum...it's just not my thing...

I'm in the same CutieplusU pink diaper right now that I put on yesterday.  I put it on yesterday evening, wet it, wore it to bed, and now I'm still in it.  It's significantly wetter right now due to the morning wake up pee it had to deal with.  

Chapter Five — The Morning Bath Light filters through the pink curtains of the room when the watch on Aisha's wrist begins to chime. A beep. Low. Insistent. Aisha opens her eyes. The ceiling is lilac. The room is wrapped in the soft light of early morning. For a moment she doesn't remember where she is. Then the rest arrives: the villa. Mrs. Smith. The diaper. It's soaked. The warmth is everywhere, the weight pressing against her skin. She feels the fabric of the bunny onesie clinging to the plastic, damp at the edges. She blushes even alone, in the silence of the room. She sits up. The mattress creaks. The light is still low — maybe six-thirty, seven at most. She climbs out of bed. Bare feet on the cold floor. Across the room to the door. The villa is silent. She walks down the hallway. The onesie rustles with every step, the puffball tail bouncing behind her. The bunny ears of the hood fall over her shoulders. The kitchen is empty. Dark. She turns on the light. The timer on her wrist reads 0:32:14 since waking. In less than an hour and a half she needs to present herself for the check. But first... She puts water on for tea. The sound of the kettle fills the silence. She rests her hands on the counter, closes her eyes. "Already awake?" The voice comes from behind her. She spins around. Mrs. Smith stands in the doorway. She's still in her robe — light silk, open at the collar, her hair loose over her shoulders. She looks younger like this. More approachable. "M-Mrs. Smith. Good morning." "Good morning." She enters the kitchen. Bare feet on the floor. She stops in front of Aisha, looks her over from head to toe. "Oh my God. I never thought I'd see something so adorable." Her voice is low. Almost surprised. "The little bunny goes for her diaper check." It isn't a question. It isn't an instruction. It's an observation. She takes Aisha by the hand. Her fingers are warm. She leads her out of the kitchen, down the hall, to the bathroom on the ground floor. The bathroom light is white. The tiles are clean, the smell of soap fills the air. "Stand here." She points to a towel spread on the floor. "Lie down." Aisha obeys. Her back against the towel. The neon light blinds her for a moment. Then Mrs. Smith is above her, her hands undoing the snap buttons of the onesie. One after another. The crotch opens. Cool air touches her stomach, her thighs. The diaper is exposed. Visible. Full. Mrs. Smith touches it. Her fingers press into the warm plastic. "Soaked. Did you sleep well at least?" "M-Mrs. Smith. Yes." "Good." Her hands find the tapes. She tears them. The adhesive gives way with a dry sound. She lifts the diaper, folds it, sets it aside. Aisha takes a deep breath, feeling the air on her bare skin. Her hands work. Wet wipes. Slow passes. Skin clean, fresh, alive. Then she stops. Her hand lingers a moment, open on Aisha's flat belly. Then two fingers slide lower. She feels them. Light. Touching her. She wants to close her legs. But she can't. Mrs. Smith presses slightly. A brief contact. Then withdraws. "Restrain your enthusiasm, little bunny. For tonight." Blood rushes to Aisha's face. Her heart beats in her throat. She doesn't understand. Mrs. Smith moves away, turns on the water in the tub. Steam begins to rise. "Get up. Get in." Aisha stands. The onesie is still open, hanging around her hips. She steps into the tub. The water is warm, perfect. She sits, her knees rising like small islands. Mrs. Smith sits on the edge. Takes the shampoo. "Close your eyes." Aisha obeys. Mrs. Smith's fingers massage her scalp. The scent fills her nostrils. Warm water, working hands, the tension melting away. "Mrs. Smith?" "Mh." "What does... what does tonight mean? What do I have to do?" Her hands don't stop. "You'll know. Later." Her hand pauses. "Look up now." The faucet opens. The stream runs through her hair. She rinses. Then stops. She takes the body wash. Spreads it on her palm. "We need you. Tonight." She washes Aisha's arms. Her back. Her belly. "You only do what comes naturally. Let your body speak." The cloth goes lower. Her legs. Her calves. "I'll be there. I'll guide you." Aisha nods. The water is warm. Steam wraps around everything. When the bath is finished, Mrs. Smith helps her out. Wraps her in the towel. Lifts her — arms under her bottom, legs dangling around her hips. "Come on, let's get dressed, little one." In the room, the changing table is ready. Mrs. Smith settles her on the padded surface. And Aisha looks at the pacifier on the nightstand. She wants it. But she doesn't dare ask. Mrs. Smith follows her gaze. "Do you want it?" "It's... it's for nighttime, Mrs. Smith. I don't know if..." "If?" "If it's professional to use it during work." Mrs. Smith doesn't answer right away. Her hands work. Cream. A new diaper — bears with blocks, colorful numbers and letters. "Take it. Carry it with you. You'll need it, later." Then she dresses her. The prettiest uniform — pink, with matching ribbons for her pigtails. "My husband should arrive around eleven. He caught a deer. He might want you to cook it for lunch." "Mrs. Smith, game needs to be marinated. I can't do it for lunch. But for dinner... for dinner it would be perfect." "Good to know." A pause. "So, in the meantime, what tasks should I do?" "The pantry. Inventory. Flour, sugar, oil. A list for one o'clock." "Yes, Mrs. Smith." Mrs. Smith turns toward the door. "Ah. If you need to pee, don't wait. Use the diaper, and have the mistress change you — don't forget your diaper bag for that." The door closes. In the silence, Aisha hears the rustle of the new diaper. Her heart still beating hard. The pantry awaits. After that, the shopping list. After that, leaving the villa gate for the first time. After that, the night.

Heyyy im a baby boy (22yo) and gay, headed into glasgow in a bit if anyone boy wants to join me for some diapred fun!! Xx

And we're back with Tess finally. I love Gabby and all but the story is much more fun when both Tess and Gabby are afoot