The Games We Used to Play [Tier 3 Exclusive] (Patreon)

The doors slammed shut and I heard the tell-tale ‘beep’ of Connie’s car being locked. It was an abrupt and shrill little tone - I often teased that it suited Connie well.

Multiple car doors slammed. Did this mean…?

The front door opened and closed, and the whirlwind that was Connie and Marina was making its way up the stairs and down the hallway - a cacophonous symphony of crinkling shopping bags, soda being slurped through straws, and fast-paced, drama-laden, conversations.

“...and he would never - and I mean never go out with Melanie after that,” Connie said. She was my sister, my twin sister, and I loved her - even if most of that love was out of blood obligation.

“Are you serious? Melanie wouldn’t give him the time of day anyways. She’s too busy giving every single guy in the county the you-know-what in the you-know-where.” Marina was...a complicated presence. Just as annoying and immature as my sister - but she was practically my sister too. She had been Connie’s best friend since grade school, and they were practically joined at the hip.

She was also the cutest girl I had ever laid eyes on.

They laughed and filed into Connie’s bedroom before the door slammed shut. It was almost a scene ripped verbatim out of a family sitcom.

They had walked right past my bedroom door without even acknowledging me. The fleeting glance I got of Marina’s voluminous brown hair as she floated past my doorway would have to be enough to get me by today.

I wasn’t asking for much. Just, you know, my twin sister’s best friend to wander into my room alone, pull down her pants and bend over for me.

I groaned out of a combination of sexual frustration and good ol’ normal frustration.

I was 21, and wallowing away my last summer of undergrad pining for someone I never had, nor ever would. I should be doing something else. Anything else. What were other people my age doing? Traveling? Playing in bands? Drinking too much? ...working?

Fuck that.

I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants so that I could pull my cock from them. Judging by the bass tones that were gently shaking my wall, and the sound of Connie and Marina prattling back and forth in her room, I had more than enough time to rub one out. It had become a pathetic little tradition since arriving home for the summer - fantasizing about Marina after seeing her. Or hearing her. If I was able to smell her - forget about it.

My hand was on my cock, stroking up and down slowly. I spun the mental roulette wheel, and when it stopped spinning, Marina was in my doorway.

“Hey, Teddy.”

“Hey Marina.”

“Did you, um, take your cock out for little old me?”

I nodded. “Yeah…”

“I, uhm...well I want you to fill my pussy with it, you know? But…”

“But?”

“But I don’t think you’ll get it in there, because I’m wearing a diaper.”

“Is that so?” I asked, feigning complete surprise. “And I suppose you need that diaper?”

She nodded. “Uh huh, yes sir.” Her voice had taken on a more juvenile tone. “If I don’t wear it, I might potty my pants…”

“Oh gosh, we can’t have that,” I said.

She shook her head.

“What if...I offered an alternative?”

“Mmmhmm,” she moaned. “I’d like that, sir.”

“Maybe I fill your little mouth instead?”

There was probably more to the fantasy than that, but it didn’t matter. That had already done the trick, and I was sitting on my bed, stroking my hard cock aggressively.

Then, as I reached climax, while I imagined Marina standing before me in a diaper while she sucked her thumb...I realized that Marina wasn’t actually wearing a diaper. Or sucking her thumb. She wasn’t a fantasy. She was actually standing in my doorway, watching me shoot my load all over my hand.

“F-fuck…” I scrambled to pull a blanket over my crotch, but there was no way the damage hadn’t already been done.

“Well well well,” she said. “What have we here?”

“Fuck,” I muttered again, trying to catch my breath. “Shit...I’m so sorry. You...you weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because your bedroom door was wide open.”

“I didn’t think that anyone was going to…” It didn’t really matter what I said. She saw what I saw, and she’d give me shit for it regardless of what excuse I gave.

“Suppose I go back and tell your sister what I just saw you doing?”

“N-no, please. Don’t do that.”

“So, you’re asking me to keep a secret now?”

“I just…”

“Okay, fine,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll keep your little secret. This can stay just between you and me. But…”

I hadn’t even agreed to keep this a secret yet. I mean - of course I was going to agree. But she was already three steps ahead of my poor post-climax brain.

“B-but?” I asked, nervous to see what else there could be.

“But, if I do this favor for you, you’ll have to do a favor for me.”

“Like...what?”

She shrugged. “Does it matter? Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to kill someone. When I know what I need, you’ll be the first to know. Now, why don’t you go get cleaned up.”

I looked down to my crotch, where I could see that a wet spot had formed in the part of the blanket that I threw over my cock. I looked back up to the doorway again, but she was gone as quietly as she had appeared in the first place.

I didn’t know what the alternative would’ve been - did I really want my sister to know that her best friend had caught me touching myself? But this wasn’t an ideal solution either.

What would Marina want, and when would she want it?

--

Over the next week or two, I would see Marina pretty frequently. As I always had. She was a near-constant presence in our home. If Connie was home, then there was a good chance that Marina was home too. Logically, I knew that I wasn’t seeing her more often than usual - but it certainly felt that way. It seemed like every time I turned around - there she was.

There was the occasional smile that seemed slightly more smug than usual. Or a glance that seemed to last a second longer than it should have. I was reading into every single move that she made way more than I should’ve.

I suspected that she knew this too, and was having some fun with it. I didn’t blame her there - I would’ve too if I were her.

Temporary relief was in sight though, as Connie was going away for the weekend. Maybe staying with another friend - or Marina, for all I knew - it didn’t really matter to me. She was going away - which meant that Connie would be away too. It wasn’t like I wanted a weekend to strut around while naked - our parents would, likey, be around here and there. But I just wanted a reprieve from worrying about when Marina would strike.

Two hours after I watched Connie’s car pull from the driveway and head down the road, there was a knock on my bedroom door.

“M-Marina…”

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” she asked with a wink.

“No..but...Connie’s not here and…”

“I’m not here to see her, silly. I’m here to see you.”

“Oh.”

She walked past me, slowly spinning around so she could get a good look at my bedroom. Then she sat down on the foot of my bed.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been in here,” she said. “Remember when we all used to play boardgames here?”

I nodded.

“We played a lot of games here,” she said wistfully. I didn’t know if she had intended to or not, but those words triggered...something. I couldn't quite place the feeling, but it felt deep-rooted in my past. Our past.

“Been playing with yourself lately?” she asked.

I laughed. She could probably guess the honest answer. She could probably guess I wouldn’t give her that honest answer. I didn’t give an answer at all.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“I...sometimes think about...stuff.”

I didn’t know what she meant. She was being vague, and I knew that I’d have to ask her to elaborate. Even so, I felt that strange feeling in my gut again. Maybe, whatever it was, it was something I already knew on some unconscious level.

“Stuff? You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“Do you ever, like, think about how things we did as kids would go on and influence things you like as an adult?”

“All the time,” I said with a laugh. “I mean - that realization makes you a qualified therapist.”

“We used to play ‘house,’” she said. “Do you remember that?”

Did I? She was right - we had played a lot of games together as kids. When I wasn’t spending time with my own friends I was spending time with Connie and Marina. Countless hours spent pretending to be in space. Or underwater. Or being chased by zombies. Or...pretending to be boring adults in a domestic setting. Apparently.

“I think so,” I said. “Didn’t all kids?”

“Probably,” she shrugged.

“Did you come here to talk to me about the games we used to play?” It probably came off as more irritated than I intended it to.

“You owe me a favor,” she said.

“I suppose I do.”

“It’s nothing big,” she said. “Well...it is. But...I’m not asking you to do anything. I was just hoping we could talk about something.”

“Yeah…” I said, finding myself unsure of what else to say. I took a seat on the bed too. Near her, but not next to her.

“I don’t think we did anything wrong back then. Like, when we were kids. But...some stuff stuck with me, you know? And...it’s stuff I can’t get out of my head.”

“Like what?”

“Like when we played ‘house,’ right? Do you remember how we played?”

“I guess so? I think Connie and I were, like, the ‘mommy and daddy,” I said with a laugh. “As fucked up as that it is, in hindsight. Though I guess we weren’t, like, kissing or anything.”

“And me?” she asked, turning her head to look at me. Was she blushing a little?

“You were, like, our...kid?”

“I was the baby.”

Fuck. That feeling came back again, except this time, things were clicking into place. Years of fantasizing about girls wearing diapers - Marina, more often than not, wearing diapers - suddenly made a lot more sense.

But if she was asking me about this now - if she had gone out of her way to come here and talk to me about this…

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I remember.”

“Some things stick with you,” she said, shrugging. “I don’t know why it had to be that, but it was. I was a teenage girl, surrounded by all my peers who were drooling over boy bands, and I was thinking about you putting me in a diaper.”

“M-me?”

“You were my Daddy, weren’t you?” she said with a laugh.

“But we...we didn’t do anything like that.”

“We didn’t,” she said. “All I ever did was crawl around on the ground while you and Connie made ‘food’ out of Play-Doh. But...I just liked that role, you know? And the more I thought about it over the years, the more I kept adding to that fantasy.”

I shook my head. This was unreal.

I just nodded.

“Look, you can go ahead and think I’m a freak,” she said. “It doesn’t bother me. But now we’re even. I watched you blow your load into a blanket. And now you know that I like...that.”

“So you like diapers?” I asked.

“Yeah…”

“Have you ever...worn one?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you still wish that I would, uh...you know…” Despite the fact that she had just said it - despite the fact that I thought about the same thing as often as she did - I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“Yeah,” she said, sparing me the torture of having to say it.

“What do I do with that?” I asked.

“Whatever you want. Nothing, I guess? Honesty, I just wanted to get that off my chest.” She started to stand up.

“W-wait...you’re just going to go?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. I’m not sure what I expected this conversation to be like. And now that I put it all out there...I feel kind of dumb.”

“No...you’re not dumb. Honest. You’re… Actually, can I show you something?”

“It’s not going to be your cock, is it? I already saw that.”

I shot her a hostile glare. “No, just stay there.”

I went to my desk, shifting around the recent accumulated debris until I found my laptop. I opened it up, logged in and went to my internet browser so I could pull up the internet history. I handed her the PC.

“What? What do you want me to see here?”

“Just look,” I said. “Scroll down.”

I watched as her finger slowly navigated the screen down. At first, I could see indifference in her eyes - maybe even frustration in having to figure out for herself what I was trying to show her. But I watched her expression begin to change. She seemed skeptical at first; she was likely asking herself, too, if this was real or not.

“Did you know?” she asked.

“Know?”

“How did you know that this was what I thought about?”

“Oh… No, I didn’t know that.”

“Then how…?” Another wave of understanding washed over her. “Oh.”

I shrugged.

“You too?”

I nodded.

She laughed before shutting the laptop and handing it back to me. “Well ain’t that something?”

“What do we do with that?” I asked - realizing I had already asked a similar question earlier.

“Nothing. Maybe? Or…”

“Something?” I offered. “We could do something.”

“Connie’s away this weekend,” she said.

“But my parents are home. If they’re here now, they’re probably already curious as to why you’re here when Connie isn’t.”

“Well I don’t live with my parents,” she said. “And my roommate is working abroad this summer. So… If you want…”

I laughed again. “I don’t know. Like...ten minutes ago you came here and told me that you have the same weirdo fantasy as me, and now I’m supposed to just go and...what? Put you into a diaper?”

“I mean, that sounds pretty good to me.”

“Maybe.” I wanted it. I wanted it so much more than I could ever say with words. But it felt so sudden, and way too good to be true. It was like my brain wouldn’t allow me to accept it.

“I’ve got some errands to run today, but I’ll be around all night,” she said, making her way to the door. “You have my number right?”

I hadn’t called or texted her in years - aside from the random times I needed to use Marina to get ahold of Connie. But I had her number. “Yeah.”

“Good. No pressure. If you want to swing by, give me a call and let me know.”

I sighed. “Yeah, alright.”

“No pressure,” she said. “But...I hope that you come.”

I hoped I did too.

--

I tried wearing diapers a few times. More specifically, I once ordered a pack of “adult baby” diapers online, which was a challenging ordeal in and of itself - between intercepting the delivery and stowing it away in my room in a place that my nosy sister and well-meaning-but-dust-destroying mother wouldn’t find them. Over the course of a year, I had tried the diapers three different times, only to find that for as much as I liked the idea of diapers, I didn’t like to wear them myself.

Those diaper fetishists who could waddle around all day in a soggy pamper - I envied them. There was a freedom there to exercise a part of their kink anytime they had the privacy they needed. Me? I needed someone else to lie down in front of me so that I could put them in a diaper. And until I found that willing participant, it just wasn’t going to happen. It was a farfetched fantasy.

Then, of course, Marina just happens to burst into my room, practically begging me to put her in a diaper.

I wondered if this would’ve ever happened if she hadn’t seen me stroking myself.

I had no idea what to do with myself as the day slowly edged closer to night. I couldn’t just leave her hanging - but I wasn’t sure what I’d do with myself when I got there either.

I thought about smoking a bowl. I thought better of it.

I thought about doing some research. I typed “babies getting their diapers changed” into the search bar, thought better about that too, and then deleted the query and typed “adult baby diaper change instead.” Much better.

But that wasn’t so much “research” as it was increased pressure on me taking my dick out again. And...maybe that wasn’t the worst idea. So, then, it was out. I was thinking about Marina again. Marina crawling on the ground. Marina wetting herself. Marina sucking her thumb. Marina…

What wouldn’t she do?

Maybe stroking myself was a bad idea too. I shoved everything back into my pants. I looked at my phone; stared at it, really. I finally grabbed it and texted her: You’re still on for tonight?

I didn’t have to wait long for her response: Yes. Does that mean you’re coming?

Me: I am.

There wasn’t much to do then but ride out the clock.

--

“Teddy,” she greeted, giving a cute little curtsy in her yellow pinafore. It seemed very appropriate.

“Marina.”

I didn’t think I had ever been in her place before. I knew it only from the times that Connie and I had driven there to pick her up, or if I was picking up Connie from there. I think I had always imagined it looking like her room did back when we were all 10 or 11 - maybe the last time I had been in her room: Lisa Frank posters, troll dolls and pictures of Justin Timberlake cut out of magazines. This was a pleasant surprise - everything seemed modest and tasteful. Of course, I had yet to fully live on my own, and given the opportunity to do so, I’d probably fill the walls with band posters and christmas lights. It didn’t take much to impress me.

“Did you eat?” she asked.

“A little. Were you...making dinner?”

“No,” she shrugged. “I just haven’t eaten yet.”

“I mean, we can go grab a bite if you want. Or order in?”

She shrugged it off. It felt like she originally had somewhere else she wanted to go with that conversation, but we didn’t get there.

“I’m going to make myself something to drink. I’m going to make you something too, okay? I don’t want to drink alone.”

“Twist my arm, why don’t you.”

She grabbed some bottles out of a cabinet in the kitchen and shook some things up before splitting it into two glasses. I didn’t know much about cocktails - the college life had only taught me about beer and shots thus far - and I certainly didn’t recognize whatever this orange concoction was.

“What is this?” I asked.

“It’s me making the best of what’s in my liquor cupboard and fridge. You’re going to have to just deal with whatever it is.”

Fair enough. Down the hatch. It was surprisingly good. Citrus and vodka. And something bitter.

She took a seat in the living room, patting the seat on the couch next to her. “Come. Sit.” So I did.

“Well, you got me here,” I said.

She laughed. “It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”

“You thought it would be hard?”

“I thought it would be hard for years,” she said with a shrug.

“Yeah...me too.”

“You thought it’d be hard to…”

“I thought about...this. Like, all of this, you know? But, I thought about you.”

“Like…”

“Like…” the drink couldn’t have been acting that fast, so I had nobody to blame but myself. I felt like it was time to get it all off my chest while I could: “I thought about you. In diapers.” She smiled, but didn’t say anything immediately. Eager to fill the silence, I added: “We were weird kids.”

“We talked about it once,” she said.

“We did?”

“Not...you and I,” she corrected. “Connie and I. We were just playing with dolls - or whatever the hell we did - one day, and I remembered asking her if we should all play House again. And Connie accused me of wanting to play House all the time because I liked being a baby. And...I think she was trying to get a rise out of me, but it didn’t happen. I remember just thinking, like, ‘Oh, yeah...maybe I do?’ And Connie - you know how she is - was upset that she wasn’t getting me all flustered, so she kept adding more ideas to it. She talked about how you and she would have to feed me a bottle. Or how I should suck on a pacifier. Or, how I should wear a…”

“Diaper?”

“Right. She was just joking. Or teasing, I guess. But I remember that exact moment, and I remember that thought just getting immediately deposited into a brand new part of my brain.”

We both laughed.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Me?”

“When did you think about...diapers for the first time?”

“By accident, I think. I was falling down one of those late night internet rabbit holes, you know? I found some references to adults with diaper fetishes and there was just something about it that kind of - like you said - got stuck in my head. And...like,” I could feel myself bushing, “I always had a crush on you. And slowly, the thought of girls in diapers, and the thought of you, just sort of…”

“Merged together?”

“Basically,” I said with a nod. “It wasn’t until you said something about playing House earlier today that I realized where that connection might have even come from.”

My hand was on her thigh. I couldn’t remember if I had put it there or not - but I wasn’t sure how else it would’ve gotten there. She certainly didn’t seem to mind it.

We had been here once before - sitting closely with sparks quietly flying between us. It had been a few summers ago at Connie and I’s graduation party. The evening’s portion of the party had been for the family. But after everyone else had gone home, all of our friends stuck around. For a single night, our parents turned a blind eye to however much beer and cheap wine coolers we had to consume to fully celebrate our achievement - so long as we stayed in the backyard. Connie had disappeared with some guy named AJ - to this day I don’t know what AJ stood for. Apple Jacks, I assumed.

Marina had sought me out in the late hours of the party, tapped me on the shoulder, and gave me a big tight congratulatory hug. We were a little tipsy. We kissed. A lot. And then...the morning came and we never talked about it again. There never seemed to be shame or regret, just this weird secret energy between us.

Secret energy that was being realized now, on her couch in her apartment. She was suddenly straddling my lap and kissing my lips. I kissed her back, my hands feeling her sides and back.

“I have a surprise for you,” she whispered.

“This wasn’t already a surprise?”

“Lift the skirt,” she said.

I did. There, under the yellow skirt of her pinafore, was a plump lavender colored diaper.

“I...I thought I was going to put that on you,” I said. I didn’t care - I truly did not care. I was incredibly happy to see this.

“You can put the next one on.”

Our lips were interlocked again. I wanted to ask if she was implying that she’d, at some point, need a new diaper. But that was a silly question.

“They’re very cute,” I finally managed to say.

“Thank you.”

“May I see them again?”

“You can look as much as you want to,” she said.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I lifted her skirt and looked at them again. This was real. This was happening. One of the cutest women I had ever known, wearing a diaper and sitting on my lap making out with me.

“Connie…” I started to say.

“We don’t have to talk about your sister right now, do we?”

“No - she...I just...do we tell her?”

“That I’m wearing a diaper for you? No, I don’t think so. She doesn’t need to know everything.”

“Yeah,” I said, far too preoccupied to give a better response.

“Kiss me...Daddy.”

Had I died then, I would’ve died happier than I had ever been before. I kissed her while my hands wandered under the skirt, feeling the bulky plastic of her diaper. My hands started near her waist, where the diaper felt fluffy and airy. But as they slowly traveled south, getting closer to being between her legs, it was getting squishier. Warmer.

“Did you…”

She offered an innocent shrug. “Oopsies.”

I was in two different places. Part of me was walking around the room and taking the scene in. That part of me was wondering how many diapers she had worn around the house when she was home alone. How many times had she pissed herself? Had she...done more? Would she do it again for me?

The other part of me was very much on the couch, pinned down by my newfound giant baby girl. Feeling so absolutely goddam blissful.

“What are you going to do about it?” she asked, feigning an innocent juvenile tone.

It was easy. I had been dreading this exact situation - the one where I was suddenly thrust into the ‘Daddy’ role with barely an idea of how to go about doing that. Yet, now that I was here, and with Marina’s willingness to play as my muse, it all became so much more natural feeling than I expected it to be.

“Well, you’re certainly not going to fool me into thinking you’re a big girl.”

I watched as her eyes grew. I wondered if she, too, had doubted my ability to perform in this role. This may have been a pleasant surprise for the both of us.

“But...if I’m not a big girl, what am I?”

“In trouble,” I said. She liked that answer.

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?”

“The kind that little babies get in when they pretend to be big girls.”

“Oh, so you think that I’m just pretending to be…”

“Yes. It was just a little fib, wasn’t it? You were never a big girl. I should’ve known that for all these years, hmm? You didn’t get assigned the role of being the baby - you wanted to be the baby.”

She blushed. Honestly, I couldn’t remember if that was the case or not, but she didn’t call my bluff. I wondered if she just believed me, or if that was how she remembered it too.

“I...I’m a…”

I didn’t let her finish. I reached up with my hand and popped my thumb into her mouth. I wish I could take credit for the move - but I saw it in a video once. It was hot in that context, and it was nothing compared to how hot it was in reality.

She didn’t miss a beat, though. She didn’t pause to dwell on what happened. Instead, she just started sucking on my thumb as if it was her own. It felt good; incredible. It made me wish I hadn’t used my thumb - but there would be time for all of that later.

“Are you wet?” I asked.

She nodded.

“I know you had a little...accident. But that's not what I meant. Are you wet?”

She let out a deep exhale from her nose, slowly nodding again.

“What made you so wet, Baby?”

No real response - as was to be expected, given my thumb in her mouth - but she let out the cutest little whimper.

“Is it wearing diapers?”

A little nod.

“...while sitting in my lap?”

Another nod - a rapid series of bobbling nods this time.

“You’re just a naughty little baby, aren’t you?”

Her face contorted around my thumb. It was the look of intense pleasure with no immediate outlet. She was slowly grinding on my lap through her diaper. A more practiced Daddy would’ve stopped her; it likely would’ve made for a great teaching moment in showing Baby that she wasn’t allowed to have pleasure like that without permission. But, seeing as how I was hard as a rock, I couldn’t bring myself to stop it. It was added to a mental checklist. For the next time.

With my thumb in her mouth, and her arms wrapped around my shoulders and neck to support herself, that left my other hand completely free. It worked its way back up her thigh, over her diaper and to her waist, where I played with the plastic waistband of the diaper for a moment. Her breathing intensified. Her grinding grew quicker. She was sucking harder on my thumb. She wanted - needed - more.

I made an attempt to slide my hand down the front of her diaper. I was successful in doing that much, but at an angle that was not only uncomfortable for me, but that would likely prevent me from doing much for her. I withdrew my hand - yielding a frustrated sigh from her. Unphased, I tried for Plan B, wiggling my fingers into her diaper from the leg cuff. This seemed much better, as I found that my fingertips were almost immediately plunged into her soaking wet vagina.

She spat out my thumb, moaning loudly into my ear. I considered shoving my thumb back into her mouth, but I was happy to have my hand back so that I could use it for other things. Like reaching under the top of the pinafore, gently massaging her soft breasts.

“Fuck,” she said.

“Naughty language.”

“Fuuuuck,” she moaned, louder and slower. Playfully and defiantly.

“Is that anyway to talk to Daddy?”

She answered only in moans. Whiny moans. Pleasurable ones. I could barely tell the difference.

“Fuck me,” she gasped.

“Sorry?”

“Fuck me, Daddy.”

I slowly pulled my hand from her diaper.

“But…”

“But?”

“Can you leave my diaper on me?”

“Oh? You want to be fucked in your dirty diaper?”

“Please? Daddy?”

It was like a euphoric kick to the head. I didn’t just want this - in this moment, this was my entire world. All existence was just her sliding off my lap so that she could bend over the side of the couch, her wet-diapered ass dangling there for me to take.

I went in the same way I had with my fingers, my cock sneaking through the leg cuff, though it was a little torn open and stretched out now. It didn’t matter. Just like that, I was fucking Marina, sliding in and out of her, as a thick soggy diaper was pressed between our bodies with every thrust.

Just as I had lost sight of the rest of the universe, it seemed she had too. We exchanged moans and shouted outbursts. Not all of it made sense - they were just fragments of fantasies and thoughts that we’d have to think about later.

“Fuck me - I’m pissy...”

“Such a...dirty little...disgusting...baby.”

“Daddy, fill my diaper.”

“...your dirty diaper...my face…”

“My pussy - my ass...it’s yours…”

“Go ahead and just...let it all out. All of it. Every bit of it. While I’m inside you.”

And so on. Until she came. Until I came, seconds later. Until I haphazardly climaxed everywhere. In her. In her diaper. Down her leg. On the roof of her apartment building, probably.

I fell to my knees and then onto my side. She slid off the side of the couch, and collapsed on top of me. My left arm wrapped around her and held her close while my other hand reached to the back of her diaper and gave it a firm pat - rubbing whatever was in there now all over her skin.

We stayed like that for a while - probably longer than the time between when I arrived at her place and we ended up on the floor in the first place.

She finally broke the silence: “What now?”

“I’ll change your diaper?” I said. “I’m sure we can find something else to do after that.”

“Yes,” she said with a laugh. “And after that?”

I think I knew where she was going with that. Did this end when the night was over? Or, did this continue beyond tonight? The latter would be more challenging - but probably not as challenging as just stopping. In some ways, it felt like we had been waiting years for this opportunity.

“Yeah,” I answered.

She laughed. “Yeah?”

“I mean...either we tell Connie at some point or she’ll find out…”

“About the diapers?”

“No...I don’t think she should know about those. Just...us?”

“What about us?” she said; wry smile.

I shrugged. “We’ll figure that out later.”

None of it really mattered in that moment. There would be drama, and secrets and so many diaper changes in our future. For now, I was happy just patting her soaked diaper while she caressed my chest.

Maybe, if we just never moved, we could stay in that moment forever.