Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
I still remember the day I met Mark. Tall, dark, and diaper-clad. His pants were noticeably puffy in the crotch, and a wry smile played on his face as he introduced himself. As we struck up a conversation, the puff in his pants grew, revealing a telltale outline. Mark casually mentioned his “accidents” and how they’d been an issue his whole life. He explained that he wears diapers when he’s away from home as a “safety net” in case he wets himself. I was taken aback, but his charming self-assurance put me at ease.
Fast forward a few months, and there I was, the girl who carried diapers in her purse, because you never know when Mark might have an “oops” moment. We’d become quite the pair, giggling through public mishaps and turning nighttime wetting into a playful routine. After Mark’s morning shower, we’d drape him in a fresh diaper, then I’d stroke his cock as he came to the crinkly sound of my hand moving up and down his shaft inside his clean pampers.
Tall, dark, and diaper-clad.
One sunny Saturday, we decided to visit a local park for a picnic. I packed sandwiches, fruit, and, of course, a few spare diapers and a fresh pair of pants, just in case we needed them. As I spread the blanket, Mark suddenly let out a nervous laugh and slapped his hand over his crotch. I looked down to see a darkening wet patch forming. Alas, another “accident” in the making.
“Don’t worry, babe,” I reassured him, pulling out a diaper from my bag. “I’ve got you covered.” Mark blushed, shaking his head as I situated him on the blanket and carefully changed him. I started by removing his pants, then lifting his ankles and cleaning his ass with a wet wipe. As he adjusted, his eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. “You know,” he said, “sometimes I wet myself on purpose just to see that look on your face.”
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