BabyAnna Posted March 8, 2022 Share Posted March 8, 2022 I was wet, as she came through the door. I wasn't wearing a diaper; I was just wet. She saw, and smiled. I hadn't wet myself; I was just wet. As she smiled, I blushed. I was wet, and as I blushed, she spoke. "You're wet," she teased. I sighed. "I'm wet," I admitted. Her smile widened. "You're a messy girl," she said, her mocking tone playful. I played along. After all, I was wet. "I made a mess," I confessed. She rolled her eyes. "Shall I clean your mess?" she asked. "I can do it," I promised. She shook her head. "That's why I'm here," she said. I nodded my head. "And you're wet," she restated. "I'm wet," I confirmed. "I'm sorry." She left me sat there, wet. Later I paid her. Sure, I'd done my own washing up, but I'd splashed water all over. After I'd changed into a dry top I'd joined her, found my kitchen pristine again, her cleaning worth the wage. We drank coffee, and I wondered when she'd be back. I'd be wet. 1 1 Link to comment
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