Sordid Histoires [Tier 3 Exclusive] (Patreon)

Renee only smoked when she was drinking, and right now she’s smoking like a chimney.

“I just want to be fucked,” she says. It’s not entirely clear who she’s saying this to, but it was said loud enough that the entire room is now aware of what she wants.

“You’re married,” says Paget. “It shouldn’t be that hard.”

But Paget already knows why it is so hard. She’s Renee’s best friend, and she’s been on the receiving end of every frustrated phone call and text message about how lackluster Renee’s sex life is. Paget is also as drunk as Renee, however. This is what they do when they drink too much–say all the obvious things out loud.

“I know,” Renee says, bellowing out a thick cloud of gray smoke. “I should just be able to walk up to my husband, right, and say: ‘Hey. Fuck me. Put your cock in my pussy.’”

There’s some stray snickers and chuckles from other people standing in the vicinity of the Renee Show, not that Renee and Paget seem to care. Or notice. For some, this is actually why they come to parties. Because, with luck, these two are going to have two or three too many glasses of punch and then they’re going to start talking loudly and without any inhibitions.

“And why doesn’t he?” asks Paget. “Huh? What’s his excuse? Doesn’t want to get his pee-pee wet or something?”

Renee releases a frustrated sigh that sounds like a steam release valve: “Pffffff. The hell if I know. We used to do it, like, all the time. We fucked like jackrabbits. Here. There. Everywhere.”

“I remember,” says Paget. “At my fucking wedding!”

“Oh shit, yeah,” Renee says, laughing. “In that room at the church? The confectionery?”

Both women crack up, delighted at Renee’s obviously wrong word. Paget catches her breath long enough to correct her: “The confessional!”

“Right, right. Fuck. I think he put it in my ass while we were in there…”

“You’re going to hell,” Paget says.

“I’m dragging you down with me, bitch.”

Their laughter, slowly devolving into drunken braying, suddenly slows and softens in volume. Renee notices that Milo is there.

“Ah, there you are,” he says. His hands are on his hips, but he’s also smiling. It suggests that he’s either annoyed and doesn’t want anyone to know it, or he’s not actually annoyed, but he wouldn’t mind if people thought he was. “Should’ve known I’d find you two troublemakers together.”

“We’re just talking,” Paget says, shrugging.

“It’s a free country!” exclaims Renee, as if her rights were somehow being challenged.

“Sure,” says Milo, making an exaggerated performance out of looking at his smartwatch. “But it’s also after midnight.”

“I don’t have to go to school tomorrow, Daddy,” Renee says. Both women immediately burst into laughter.

He keeps his cool, laughing along with Renee’s drunken tomfoolery. “Yeah, but we have an hour drive home. And we’re paying the babysitter by the hour. If this goes on any longer, she’s going to own our house.”

Renee sighs and takes one last epic drag from her cigarette before dramatically dropping the rest of it into her current cocktail. The third-cup of pink liquid sizzles as a faint line of smoke rises from the glass.

“My husband says I have to go,” she says to Paget with playfully pouting lips.

“So he can fuck you?” asks Paget, tilting her head just enough towards Milo so that she can see his reaction.

“Doubt it,” Renee says.

“Just leave him. I’ll buy one of those big rubber ding-dongs and I’ll do the job myself.” It’s poised as a joke, but it probably wouldn’t have surprised anyone if it actually happened.

“Don’t even fucking tempt me,” Renee says. She takes a final sip from her glass, seeming to have already forgotten that she just dropped her cigarette into it. Either she doesn’t notice or she doesn’t care.

***

He turns off the car’s radio halfway through “Hotel California.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that to me,” Milo says to her.

“Sing along to The Eagles?” Renee asks. It might be sarcasm or she might just be drunk. The line there is incredibly blurry.

He sighs. “No. Back at the party. Talking about our s-e-x life like that?”

Renee turns, peering into the backseat to look for kids occupying the carseats. “Who are you spelling that word out for? It’s just us.”

“It’s a habit,” he says, shrugging.

“I was just talking to Paget,” she says defensively. “You know, my friend?”

“I know who Paget is.” He cracks his neck as he stares ahead at the mostly-empty highway in front of the car. “Maybe this isn’t a good conversation for right now.”

She reaches into her purse, pulling out her cell phone. “Want to schedule a better time? I’ll put it on my calendar.”

“Don’t be like that,” he says.

“You want to talk?” she says. “Let’s go.”

“It can wait until tomorrow,” he says. “After you’ve slept and sobered up a little.”

“I am perfectly sober. Sober as a…dog.”

He looks at her, eyebrows raised curiously.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m fine. C’mon, let’s talk. What do you want to talk about? The fact you never bone me anymore?”

He sighs, shaking his head. “That’s…a whole other conversation. If we’re going to talk right now, we should talk about how you were airing our dirty laundry out over a party. Nobody else needs to know about our sex life, Nay.”

She won’t say it out loud, but she has to admit to herself that she still likes it when he calls her ‘Nay.’

“We weren’t being that loud,” she says.

“I heard you from the kitchen.”

“Well then you’ve got ears like a…dog.”

“What is this dog analogy you keep using?”

She doesn’t want to admit that she’s not in her best state of mind. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Look, we have some things we need to work on,” he says. “We’ve been married for, what, ten years now? We have two kids. We have jobs. A house. I wish it was as easy as it was when we were just young and stupid, you know? We could fuck like bunnies all day and all night because we had nothing else to do and nowhere else to go. I get it…it sucks that things aren’t like they used to be. But we can work on that together. And, you know, in a way that doesn’t require the entire room to know that I’m not fucking you enough.”

She’s been nodding along to his words, but when he finishes, she only has one question: “Did I…say that you fucked me in the church?”

“In the confessional,” Milo says, shaking his head. But he’s smiling. “In your ass. Yeah. I think everyone knows that story now.”

“It’s a good story. We had some good times,” she says wistfully, looking out the window as the dark trees on the side of the highway float past.

He could go on, talking about her penchant for drinking too much at parties and embarrassing herself and him. He could complain about the fact that she smells like an ashtray right now. But reminiscing about their sex life on the long drive home, with his inebriated wife, sounded a little more fun right now.

“Remember diapers?” he says. He can’t bring himself to look at her after he says the word.

She’s tempted to make a joke. She could mention that they need to get some more for their youngest while they’re out. Instead, she smiles as she continues to stare out the window.

“Yeah, I remember,” she says.

“How did that even start?” he asks.

“You pissed your pants on the beach, remember? Cancun, I think.”

Milo laughs, shaking his head. “That’s not actually what happened. I didn’t really piss my pants. I remember now. We had beers in the cooler and they had gotten shaken up or something. I opened one up and it sprayed all over my pants.”

“Uh huh,” she coos. “Sure, sure.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter how it happened, only that you thought it happened. You confessed that you thought it was kind of…hot.”

She bit her bottom lip. Thinking back on it now, she still thought it was pretty hot. “I don’t know how to explain it. Seeing your wet crotch just kind of fired up my mommy-mode or something.”

“You kept teasing me,” he continues. “Telling me that you were going to change my pants and put me into a diaper in case it happened again.”

“That’s kind of weird, isn’t it?” she says. “I never really thought of things like diapers before that. Like, it wasn’t some secret fetish of mine or anything. I was just trying to tease you.”

“But we both got weirdly into it. I think because you kept bringing it up.”

Renee laughs. “Did I?”

“Like, every two minutes. You’d pull the waistband of my pants open and pretend like you were checking to see if I had another accident.”

“That sounds like something I’d do.”

“We got back to the hotel room and you tried to make a diaper out of a towel. Do you remember that?”

“Oh fuck,” she says, shaking her head. “I do. How did we keep it on you?”

“Safety pins, I think. You had them in your purse.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” She traverses a little further into her memories, laughing again at what she remembers as the next part of the story. “And then I made you piss yourself in this stupid makeshift towel-diaper, right?”

His cheeks get a little rosier. “Right. But the towel didn’t work like we thought it was going to. It didn’t, like, absorb everything. I just pissed right through it and left a puddle on the hotel room’s bed.”

“And that was my side of the bed!” she exclaims.

Neither tells the next part of that story, though they both think about it. How they spent their last night in the hotel room crammed together on one side of the bed, hoping that the hotel didn’t end up charging them for a new mattress after Milo had thoroughly pissed in this one.

The car is silent for a few minutes. It’s not an awkward silence, it’s reflective.

“How did we never get caught?” Milo finally says. He turns to look at Renee as he smiles.

She’s smiling back at him. “We did. Multiple times.”

He knows what she’s referring to. The time at the mall. The movie theater incident. Their disastrous couples massage. “I don’t mean getting caught by, like, strangers. I mean…people we know. We were pretty fucking bold.”

Renee bites her lip again. “We…might not have been as subtle as you remember.”

“What? What do you mean?”

She shrugs.

“Oh, come on. Did someone see something? Did they say something to you? Who was it? When?”

“I probably shouldn’t say,” she says, her tone softening a little.

“You have to now!”

“I know, but then you’ll get all awkward and you’ll never be able to look them in the eye again and…”

“Nay, you have to tell me. Please.”

She stares down towards where her feet should be, though she can’t see them in the dark car. “Bridget.”

“Bridget?” he exclaims. “Like…your sister Bridget?”

She offers only an exaggerated shrug, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Oh, you need to tell me when that happened. How much does she know?”

“Well,” she says. “It’s safe to say that she knows a lot.”

“Fuck. We were just over to her house the other day! How long has she known?”

Renee is hesitant to answer, though she knows she’s going to have to. “Since the camping trip at Lake George.”

“Lake George? That was like…7 years ago.”

She nods, bracing herself for Milo’s likely panic attack.

“Fuck. She’s known since then?”

She nods again.

“Fuck.”

“Hey, potty-mouth,” she warns. “Just a few minutes ago you were spelling out the word ‘sex.’”

“Well that was before I learned that my sister-in-law has spent most of the last decade holding onto secrets about weird kinky life.”

“I mean, she hasn’t told anyone. That’s something, right?”

Milo sighs, shaking his head. “How did she find out?”

“Do you remember that trip?” she asks. “We were kind of in the thick of diaper-mania.”

He can remember the trip. Vividly. A week-long camping trip hours from home. Sure, they’d be sharing some space with Renee’s sister Bridget and Bridget’s then-boyfriend–Todd, or something like that–but Renee assured him that they were going to be spending most of that week alone. Just the two of them in a secluded place that was far from home.

In other words, she was going to take advantage of this time and bring a lot of diapers. And she was going to keep him in them for the whole trip. And that’s exactly what happened. And at the end of the week, they had achieved their strange goal: he hadn’t used a toilet once. No campsite bathrooms. No latrines on the beach. He didn’t even piss on a tree in the middle of the woods. All diapers, all the time. And she changed every single dirty diaper in their tent.

And so for her to say that Bridget had found out about it during that week, it wasn’t actually all that surprising. He had often wondered how they made it through the week without having been caught.

“What tipped her off?” he finally asks

She winces, having hoped that he wasn’t going to ask that. “I…don’t really remember.”

“I don’t believe you,” he says.

“It’s not important how she found out. Just that she had.”

“I feel like you’re not telling me for a reason, Nay.”

“I know but… I just don’t want to upset you.”

He doesn’t really like the sound of that. And she knows him well enough to know what would or wouldn’t make him upset, so he believes her.

“I…won’t get mad,” he says.

“Promise?” she asks.

“Promise.”

“Okay. Well, here’s the thing. She knew because…I told her.”

“What? You told her? When did you tell her?”

“It was, like, the very first day of the trip,” she says with a little shrug.

“So she knew, like, the entire time?”

“Well…” She thinks about it for a moment. Is there any point in deflecting further? “I thought it would be for the best if she knew.”

He shakes his head, doing one of those laughs where she can tell that he doesn’t actually think something is funny, but he does find it to be that absurd.

“I mean, let’s be real, Milo. Bridget and I know everything about each other. We can read each other like a book. And while I thought you and I were getting pretty good at our little game of ‘hide the diapered ass in public,’ I knew there was no way that we were going to get this past Bridget all week. And so I had to weigh my options. Which was better, stumble around while pretending to be stealth until she figured it out anyways? Or just tell her upfront so that she’d give us some space?”

He didn’t dislike her logic. Nobody knew Bridget better than Renee, and so if that’s what she thought the best solution was, he trusted her on that. But for years to pass without her telling him that Bridget knew about their kinky little diaper-adventure the whole time? That was tough to swallow.

Still, this didn’t seem like the time or place to vent about that. They were connecting. Strolling down a memory lane littered with dirty diapers. He’d save his frustrations for another time. Another conversation.

“What did she say?” he finally asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What did Bridget say when you told her about the diapers?”

“I mean, she was kind of weirded out at first. And who wouldn’t be, right? A grown man being kept in diapers by his wife for a week? That’s kind of weird.”

“How much did you tell her?”

“As much as I needed to.”

“And how much was that?”

“Kind of...pretty much…everything.”

“Oh.”

“It was hard,” she says, shrugging. “It’s a slippery slope. I have to start by explaining that you’re going to be walking around in diapers under your shorts for a week. She wants to know why. I tell her it’s because we have this kinky little game we’re playing. She wants to know how anyone could possibly think that wearing diapers was sexy. So I tell her a little about the things we like about it. You know, humiliation. Control. And she gets that, but she’s also wondering why this means you have to wear diapers all the time. The answer is obvious, of course, and she probably knows the answer without me telling her. But, you know, just to be sure that we’re on the same page, I need to say it. So I tell her that you’re expected to use your diapers.”

He laughs again. This time, it sounds a little more genuine. She’s surprised by his humor towards it. Truth be told, he is too.

“Holy shit. I had no idea.”

She shrugs. “I probably should’ve told you that she knew back when we were at Lake George. But I worried that if you knew…”

“...I would’ve been thinking about it the entire time,” he says, finishing her thought. “You’re not wrong.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“I thought I would be. But maybe not.”

She puts a hand on his lap. It’s a minimal gesture, but it feels very significant. They don’t do things like that anymore. They don’t hold hands. They don’t kiss. They’re not on top of each other in the bed like they used to be. But this, as small as it is, is something. It’s a start.

“I can’t believe she knew the whole time,” he says, laughing. “We did so much stuff that week.”

She laughs too. “I know.”

“We were on that nature trail, do you remember? We thought it was a four mile round trip to the lake and back. But three miles into the trail, we realized it was four miles to the lake and another four back. But we had already walked that far, so we decided to keep going.”

She picks up the story from where he left off: “I couldn’t fit too much in my bag, so I only brought one extra diaper for you. And you wet yourself almost immediately after we left the campsite.”

“It should’ve been obvious,” he says. “I don’t know why I didn’t think about it sooner. But hiking in a diaper is not very comfortable in the first place. But a wet diaper? It was such a bad idea.”

“We weren’t even two miles into the trail and you were begging me for the new diaper.”

“Well I didn’t think we’d be hiking for another six miles that day.”

“That was kind of hot though, wasn’t it? I changed your diaper right there on the trail?”

“Fuck. That was incredible. Anyone could’ve walked up on us at any time, from either direction. But you acted like you didn’t even care. You just put me on my back like a baby and changed my diaper.”

“That wasn’t all that I did,” she says.

He remembers. He can still see it in his mind, her head bobbing up and down between his legs, sucking his cock mid-change in a patch of grass just off to the side of the walking trail.

“It’s a miracle we didn’t get caught.”

“I think it would’ve been fun,” she says. He can’t see her smile, but he has a feeling it's there.

“For you, maybe.”

“Oh please. Don’t pretend that you don’t like the idea of getting caught. Remember that time at the movie theater? That woman in front of us literally turned around and asked if you took a shit on the floor. And you acted all embarrassed and humiliated about it.”

“Well, I was. I didn’t think anyone could tell.”

“But right after we left…”

“You mean, right after the woman complained to the usher and we were asked to leave.”

“Right, well. As soon as we got back to the car, I put my hand on your dirty diaper and what did you do?”

“I…came.”

“Right there in the parking lot,” she says, giggling. “In your diaper. You loved that.”

“We’re, uh, getting off topic,” he says. He feels silly for changing the subject, considering this story-within-a-story ends in a similar place that the other story does.

“Ah yes,” she says. “So I changed you into a clean diaper–the only clean diaper I had with me–and we continued our trek all the way to the lake. And no sooner than we finally get there, you tell me that you need to use your diaper again.”

“I should’ve seen that coming.”

“We both should’ve,” she says. “And you certainly didn’t tell me you were about to wet your diaper earlier, so I knew that if you were telling me you needed to use it again…you probably weren’t going to just wet it.”

“I asked you if I could just shit in the woods.”

She laughs. “It’s funny. In hindsight, your request makes more sense to me. You had to go, and if you were made to use the diaper you’d have to wear that mess until we got back to camp. But at that moment, I just didn’t see the point. We agreed you were going to wear and use your diapers all weekend, and I didn’t think there should be any exceptions to that.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “You refused to listen to me. In fact, you doubled-down on me using my diaper. In fact you made me just do it right there at the lake.”

“Really?” She remembers this, vaguely. It makes sense that he might remember some of the details better.

“I might have been able to hold it until we got back to camp. Maybe. At the very least, I might’ve been able to hold it off for a while. But you didn’t want me to hold it. You wanted me to do it right there, in front of you, before we started walking back.”

She gently squeezes his leg. She remembers the long stinky walk back to camp, but she had forgotten about their time at the lake itself.

She remembers something else: “We had sex at the lake.”

He takes a hand off the wheel to run it through his hair. “Oh yeah, we did.”

Instead of putting his hand back on the wheel, he puts it atop her hand on his lap.

“Why did we stop doing that?” she asks. The conversation has come full circle.

“Sex?” Milo asks.

She scoffs. She’s not as drunk as she was when she left the party. She wonders, now, if she was ever all that drunk at all, or if she just liked having an excuse to be loud and obnoxious with Paget.

“Diapers,” she says. “Why do we not do that anymore?”

“Real babies, probably. You change a few actual baby diapers and suddenly it's not so hot anymore.”

She peers into the back seat again where the kids would normally be. “Well, they’re not in diapers anymore. Haven’t been in a while.”

He wants, very badly, to appear calm and collected, but nothing is going to stop his lips from forming a smile.

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing her hand. “That’s true.”

“Do we have any diapers at home?” she asks. “Big ones? For bigger babies?”

“I’m not sure,” he says. “I doubt it. I think we got rid of that stuff a long time ago.”

“We should get more.”

“I agree.”

HIs hand tightens a little more on hers. She bites her bottom lip again.

“I’m sorry I was being an asshole at the party,” she says.

He shrugs. “It was a party. You were drunk. Paget was drunk. Just about everyone else was drunk.”

She doesn’t correct him.

He adds: “I’m sorry we’re not having any sex.”

“It’s probably just as much my fault as it is yours.”

She takes her cell phone out of her purse once again, tapping away at something on the screen.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Texting Kayla,” she says.

“Letting her know we’re on our way home?”

“Just making sure she doesn’t mind staying a little longer.”

“I mean, we’re only, like, 20 minutes from home? I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

“I’m going to tell her that it’ll be a little bit longer than that,” she says, looking at him and smiling.

His eyebrows rise with curiosity. “How much longer? And…why?”

She points out her window towards the oncoming exit of the highway. “Can you get off here?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s not our exit, but…”

“Just do it.”

He’d love to have a better idea of why he’s turning off here, but he does it anyway. He trusts her. Or he’s curious. Her hand is gripping his leg as he grips her hand, and there’s an undeniable energy in the car. Maybe it’s connected to the reason they’re turning here, he thinks. He hopes.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

She chuckles and shrugs. “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll know it when we see it.”

Her hand slides across this thigh, taking his hand with her. She nears his crotch. His heart beats faster. Inside his pants, his cock suddenly gets a little firmer. But he knows what he’s looking for now, and he understands why they turned off at this exit.

“Over there?” he asks, nodding his head towards the vast empty parking lot of an office complex.

“Perfect.”

He pulls into the lot, finding an area that is both removed from the street’s view, but still a ways from the building itself. He parks and shuts the car off, immediately enveloping them in only the slightest of dim lights from the streetlights that are yards away. The car is silent, a silence that they haven’t experienced together in a long time. No children. No car radios. No text message notifications or email noises.

It’s his long moan that finally cuts through the quiet. Her hand is on his crotch, and she’s stroking his erection through his pants.

“Get in the back,” he says. “You want to be fucked? I’ll fuck you, Nay.”

“I’ll meet you back there,” she says as she unbuckles her seatbelt.

She leans towards him, arching her body over the middle console, kissing him on the lips. Her wet plump lips feel amazing on his, and it’s been such a long time since he’s felt them. He moans again, he can’t even help it. He quickly unfastens his seatbelt as well, giving him enough range of motion that he can turn his upper body and wrap his arms around her.

“Backseat,” she says. “Meet me there.”

He releases his grip on her as she opens the passenger-side door and slips out. He’s tempted to take a moment to compose himself, but he opens his own car door instead. He doesn’t want to compose himself.

The cool night air feels good on their skin. It feels good to breathe in. Maybe because there’s no cars on the road blowing exhaust everywhere? Maybe it’s just in their heads.

He opens the door to the backseat, finding the children’s car seats buckled into the seats. They didn’t think this out very well.

“The car seats,” he says to her.

“Can we take them out? Just throw them on the pavement for now. We can put them back in later.”

“They were a pain in the ass to install,” he says, scratching his head. He almost regrets saying it–it feels like the kind of boring adult-talk that got them into this sex-less mess in the first place.

He scans the vicinity around the car again, spotting a small grassy area off to the side of the parking lot. In the dim light, he spots a picnic table. During the day, he imagines employees at the office complex bringing their brown-bagged lunch over to it for a brief reprieve from their bosses. Right now, it looks like a place he can bend Renee over.

“There,” he says,” pointing to the table.

“Okay,” she says. She also would’ve accepted just lying down on the pavement while he crawled on top of her, so the picnic table is a nice upgrade. “I’ll meet you there?”

He wants to ask why they just can’t walk over there together, but she’s already popped open the trunk of the car. Maybe she’s grabbing a blanket or a bottle of water. He walks over to the picnic table and waits for her.

She arrives less than a minute later, plopping a canvas bag down on one of the wooden seats.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“I kept an extra diaper bag in the car,” she says with a shrug. She can think of a time or two when it was needed–sticky fingers and blown-out diapers–but it doesn’t seem important to elaborate on now. “It was still there.”

She pulls out a tiny baby diaper. Whichever kid this was for, they couldn’t have been more than a year old when they wore diapers this size.

“Is that for me?” he says, laughing. “It’s not going to fit.”

She laughs, setting it aside. “Let’s see what else we have in here.” She rifles around in the bag again. “Oh, these might work.”

There’s a pacifier in her hand.

“Do you want me to…put that in my mouth?” he asks. He’s seen where his children’s fingers and mouths have been, and he’s not sure this is a good idea.

“These are fresh,” she says. “Just extras in case of emergency. But we’ve never had a pacifier-emergency.”

“Until now.”

“Put it in your mouth, Baby.”

He does without hesitation. It’s actually an entirely new sensation for him. Even at the peak of his kinky adventures with Renee, it was usually just about the diapers themselves. Aside from her teasing him or calling him a baby, they never used other infantile toys or accessories. But he likes the pacifier; he likes how small it makes him feel.

“I’ve got this too,” she says, holding up a bottle of baby powder. “Get up on the table. On your back.”

He was expecting her to be on her back atop the table, or at least bent over it as he stood behind her. But this was fine too. He did as she asked, climbing up the bench and lying down on the aged wooden planks.

She unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants, pulling them down his legs to his knees. She’s tempted to leave them there, but opts to pull them down even further, bringing the pants and boxer-briefs to his ankles.

“I can’t put you in a diaper tonight,” she says. “But I can at least make you smell like a baby.”

The white container is opened and she liberally douses his thighs with the powder. The scent of it is carried in the crisp night air to his nose. For a moment, he’s worried that it’s just going to remind him of early morning cries of anguish on the baby monitor, summoning him to change his child’s diaper. But the scent doesn’t trigger any of those unpleasant memories at all. It makes him long for his own diapers again. He misses the way she changed him. No matter what kind of abysmal mess he filled them up with, she took care of him.

“Are you a baby?” she coos.

“Mmhmm,” he hums through the tiny pacifier in his mouth.

“Mommy will take care of you.”

She shimmies out of her panties, letting them drop to the grass below, and she hikes up her dress as she climbs atop the table. Her body slides over top of his, and she grabs his hard cock along the way. Her pussy is soaking wet, practically dripping onto him. She guides his shaft into her before lowering herself onto him, allowing herself to be filled by his cock.

“There we go, Baby.”

For the first few minutes, they have little to say. He bites onto the rubber nipple of the pacifier as his back arches in his attempts to thrust himself into her. She grinds herself atop his gyrating shaft.

“We’re going to get you back into diapers,” she says. “I promise.”

He offers only a positively-toned grunt.

“You’ll be a good boy, right? You’ll wet yourself for me? Make dirty little messes for me to clean up?”

“Mmmhmm!”

“I know you will.”

Out in the open, after so long, and with the scent of the baby powder in the air still, it takes barely any time at all for both of them to climax. Surprisingly, it’s her who succumbs first, closely followed by him as he unloads deep inside of her.

She dismounts, lowering herself to the bench to sit. He slowly sits up before joining her on the bench.

“You’ll call Paget, right?” he asks. “Tell her that I fucked you.”

She laughs, playfully slapping his thigh, shaking free some of the baby powder into a cloud. “If I was going to tell her what actually happened, I’d tell her that I fucked you while you sucked on a pacifier.”

“Does she know? About the diapers?”

Renee shakes her head. “Not yet.”

He doesn’t love that implication, but he lets it go. He figures that if they keep having sex like that, she can tell anyone anything she wants to.

“We should go home,” he says.

She leans into him, kissing his lips again. “Fine. But promise me this isn’t the end of this? We’re not just going to wake up tomorrow and fall right back into the normal routine again?”

“As soon as we get back in the car again,” he says, “you’re going to order some diapers.”

***

She blows a thick gray smoke stream from her lips as her cigarette loosely dangles from her fingers.

“Is it possible to be fucked too much?” Renee asks. She doesn’t seem to be talking to anyone in particular.

“Are you complaining or bragging?” asks Paget. “Six months ago, you were whining that he wasn’t putting his dick in you.”

Renee looks across the room, past the other tipsy party-goers, to catch the eye of Milo. He smiles and offers a small wave as he talks to a small cluster of men. It occurs to her that she’s going to need to check his diaper soon.

“Bragging, probably,” Renee says, sipping from the cocktail in her other hand.

“Must be nice. What’s your secret?”

“Men are like children,” Renee says. It sounds like the first half of a profound piece of advice, but the second half never comes.

Instead, she stands up and walks away, heading in the direction of Milo without saying another word.