QH Archive: That One Summer (Patreon)

She was married, and I was...well, lost.  I’ll leave it at that.  But we found each other at just the right time in each other’s lives, and we formed a bond over being lonely and horny.  She’d meet me in the parking lot before I went to work at night.  It was the same every time.  We’d chat for a bit.  One of us would finally work up the courage to put their hand down the other’s pants and we’d collapse in a fit of kissing and groping in the backseat of her car.

This, surprisingly, did not lose its luster, even after months.  She knew I had secrets, though.  Fetishes, kinks, parts of myself that I was scared to express to anyone else.  Occasionally, in between kisses and getting her nipples suckled, she’d ask for me to spill them, but I held tight. Finally, on a rainy weekend, she was feeling especially curious and she managed to do enough playful nagging that I had to let her in.

Yep, diapers.  Dressing, and acting, like a baby.  I braced myself for outrage and disgust, but instead got genuine curiosity.  She wanted to know more, and so I told her more.  We passed my phone back and forth, looking at the things on the internet that I’d normally only be looking at in my most private moments. 

She admitted that this kink, by itself, was not something that she would’ve been that interested in normally.  However, seeing me so turned on by it, she found that to be arousing.  It would be a few more weeks, with more conversations tucked in between sweaty afternoons in backseats, before she finally brought up an idea one day.  It was obviously something she had been thinking about for a while, and I could tell that she was nervous about suggesting it.

“So, how do you feel about showing me sometime?”

“How so?” I asked

“Maybe you could...wear a diaper for me?  Next time we meet?”

And so I would.

A week later, in the backseat of her car, we made small talk about what he had been listening to lately and lamenting the closing of a local bar. I knew that she wanted to ask me about what was in my pants as badly as I wanted her to ask. Neither of us wanted to just come out and say it.

Finally, I said: “Can I show you something?”

“Please,” she replied. “I want to see.”

I unbuttoned my pants and carefully shimmied them down my legs just enough to reveal my thick white disposable diaper. Neither of said anything immediately, and the lack of a reaction at all only intensified my blushing.

“May I touch it?” she finally asked.

I nodded.

Her hand reached between my legs, cupping the bulky diaper in her fingers. She gave it a small squeeze, and seeming to find the feeling satisfactory, she did it again. 

“Can I tell you something?” she asked.

I nodded again, nervously. I was sure that this was the point where she’d admit that this actually did nothing for her at all.

“I really like this. So much more than I thought I would.”

I was a mess of emotions. I was relieved that she actually liked what she saw. But a whole new wave of anxiety washed over me as I wondered what came next.

I put my hand on hers, and pressed it into my diaper. I moaned softly, as I caught her grinning to my side.

“Do you like this, baby? Do you like having your diaper touched, baby?”

Her calling me ‘baby’ completely melted me into an entirely new headspace. I moaned again, nodding.

“I’m going to leave my hand right here,” she said, playfully squeezing my diaper again, “and you’re going to wet yourself, okay? I don’t care if we’re here all day. I’ll wait.”

It felt like a win-win for me. Either she’d feel me wetting myself...or we’d just stay like that forever.

This story has been re-edited, partially re-written and greatly expanded since its original publishing on Tumblr. This version is exclusive for my patrons.