Results for "plastic"
Penny is wearing a plastic ABDL dress and soft, crinkly plastic pants, which she pulls down to expose her thick, cloth diaper.
Penny’s Daddy puts her in a thick, cloth diaper and see-through plastic pants on a park changing table.
So, usually I just buy Bambino diapers. They’re quality, they’re cute, and I know just what size I need. However, I’ve been thinking about trying ABU again.
You may remember that ages ago I stopped using them because they did a link exchange with, well, a kiddie porn site. This was back in the day when link exchanges were a thing and people were actually kinda picky about the sites that they were willing to link to. They took the link down when people got upset.
And they’ve never had any other problems. So, I’m beginning to think that it really was just a horrible mistake from a new company that didn’t know to check their link exchanges yet and, wanting publicity, would just link to anyone.
I made a mistake like that when I was first getting started out. I was 18 or 19 and, man, this was back when I was on LiveJournal, I was looking for interests (tags) to describe myself and since I was a teenager, I put “TB, Teen Baby”–you know, all that jazz. Then, of course, I found out what it meant and I took it down as quickly as possible.
So, I’m considering ordering from ABU again. I also had a problem with them shredding when I used a Hitachi over them, but I’ve been told that they are much stronger, thicker plastic now and that they don’t break anymore.
On Sunday evening, I went to see a play, actually a really great play starring Felicia Benefield and written by Andew Saito, with Manny and Siouxsie Q, then we all met up with Siouxsie’s Daddy, Jesse, for burgers. It was a lovely evening and I barely picked on her at all.
When Manny and I got back to my car, we noticed that some things had been pulled about my my driver’s license, which I keep in the glove box, was missing. My wallet was gone, too. Luckily I had emptied it of cash and credit cards, but it did have my paychecks and business receipts in it, which is a damn shame, along with my membership cards. (Kink.com and other places are working on replacing my checks, which won’t be too expensive and should be problem-free, assuming that the thief didn’t find anywhere to cash the checks yet.)
It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. The thief didn’t take my power cords or headphones. He left all my kids’ toys, my designer shoes, and my favorite handbag. He also left the bag of change that I use for the parking meter. No windows were broken, the door was neatly closed after him. So it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
I was resigned to having to replace my ID when someone sent me an email telling me that he had found it. And here’s the good part: he just happened to be an adult talent recruiter and was able to place my face to my professional name and use that to find my contact information! What are the odds, right?!
Anyway, I met up with him and he returned my ID, a little worse for wear with a cigarette burn, but still usable. I wasn’t able to really thank him properly, as I had my two children in the car and they were not as pleased that my tiny, non-edible, not-a-toy plastic card was back, but I hope to take him for a coffee or something soon. I was really touched that he made time in his Memorial Day to give me back my ID and took the time to look me up.
We climb the stairs back to my apartment. He walks behind me and I know why. My long, satin dress clings to my ass and legs and he has always been a man who appreciates a perky ass and curvaceous legs. I sway my hips just a little more than necessary to entice him.
We reach the door and, as I unlock it, he reaches around me and fondles my breasts. I pause and he becomes more aggressive, grabbing me hard and biting my neck more than he is kissing it. I lean back into him, grinding against his crotch. Then I open the door and pull him inside. We kiss in the foyer for a moment before we move, still kissing, to the bedroom.
My eyes are closed as we go. I know my apartment well enough to walk to my room without really looking. He lifts me like a baby and lays me down on the bed–and I hear a crinkle. I ignore it at first, but then I smell something sweet, but strange. Baby powder?
I reach over and feel something soft and plasticy. He’s still kissing me, but I push him back and look over. What could I possibly have left on the bed?
In the lambent light of the streetlamp outside I see something white and puffy. I can’t quite make out what it is.
“Take off your dress,” he orders and immediately starts doing it. He rolls me over and starts unzipping me, his rough beard scratching my back as he kisses down, down, down my exposed spine.
I reach over and pick the thing up, turning it around and trying to think what it could possibly be. Did I leave this here?
He has stripped my dress off and flipped me back over. He’s kissing down the front of my body, I suspect about to eat my pussy, but I’m concerned about the thing. I notice that it folds and open it.
I’m beginning to realize what it is. How did this get in my room? My eyes flicker away and I notice something else on the dresser–and something else on the bookshelf. Suddenly I realize that everything in my room has changed. The furniture is still the same, but even the books on the shelf are different. My sheets are different. The bathrobe hanging over the back of the door is different.
“Manny! Wait, look.” I push him off of me and back against the headboard.
He kneels up, still fully dressed, even wearing his jacket and tie. He doesn’t look around, but smiles at me. He’s beautiful when he smiles.
“Do you like it? I had it done while we were out.”
Even the wallpaper.
“It’s a freaking nursery!”
He reaches out and caresses my face. “Welcome home, baby girl.”
His breathing has been steady for at least thirty minutes, but I’ve been waiting for this all day and I can’t ruin it by being over anxious. I have to wait until I’m sure. My arm oozes across the comforter to check the time on my phone. 12:33 am. He must be asleep by now, deeply enough that I can slide out of the bed, keeping my legs straight until I can bend them gently to melt against the floor. I do not move so much as seep across the bedroom to the closet. I’ve left the door open so that I can reach in and feel around the top shelf under my sweaters until I feel something even softer, something that crinkles.
My heart races and I can’t be careful anymore. I grab the diaper and quickly walk down the hall, holding my breath. I sneak into the bathroom and switch on the light, illuminating my naked body and the thick, white diaper. I squeeze it hard and my clit throbs. I open it and lay it out on the tiny bathroom rug then lie down on top of the diaper, pressing my ass into the softness. I wiggle back and forth, pulling the front of the diaper up over my vulva, and I moan softly.
“Yes. This is what I want.”
I’m alone, but I don’t want to be. I imagine a man kneeling at my head, his knees brushing my ears as his warm hands knead my breasts while I rub my eager clit and wet slit against the diaper. My dampness soaks into the absorbent loveliness and I imagine his deep voice playfully chastising me, “This is why you need a diaper. Without it, you make a mess.” I tape the diaper as tightly as I can and my sex convulses as each tab is pressed down.
I lie on the floor working the diaper against my pussy, but the part of me that is made of longing rolls over onto her knees, presses her breasts together, and asks the man, “Do you need to pee?”
He grunts and stands before me. His cock is not fully erect, but he is definitely excited. He grasps it with one hand and tilts my head back with the other. I feel his hot urine splash against my face. I open my mouth and lap at his stream. His urine runs down my breasts, over my belly, and into my diaper, filling it so that it bulges between my legs.
I rub myself furiously on the bathroom floor as I release my bladder and fill the diaper, imagining that it’s the man’s pee and not mine, that he is marking me and claiming me. I’m getting close, so close to cumming against the soft, white diaper, warm and wet and–
The door opens and M stands against the darkness. I’m illuminated as thought I was on a stage and he can see everything that I’m doing: my hands between my legs, the wet diaper, my flushed cheeks.
My eyes start to tear as I ask, “Why aren’t you asleep?”
He is looking between my legs, not at my face, when he answers. “I need to pee.”
I start to cry, sitting on the floor, looking up at him. I don’t sob, I don’t make a sound, but tears run down my cheeks, down my neck, spreading over my skin.
I realize that, in avoiding his gaze, I’m staring at his crotch. He stirs, gets bigger. His glans pushes its curious way out into the fluorescent light.
I imagine that, somehow, he’s mocking me with his erection. “Stop it!” I cover my face with my hands and begin to cry in earnest.
He kneels down and tries to take my hands away. “What were you doing? Were you playing with yourself?”
“Yes, okay! Yes!”
He continues to gently pull at my hands and I continue to hold them to my flushed, wet face.
“Did you wet it? Do you like it?”
I push against him, refusing to answer. Finally he gets frustrated and just wraps his arms around me. I can feel his hot, hard cock against my leg and then against…my diaper.
He moans and pushes against the thick plastic. “Oh, baby girl!”
“Stop it, Manny!”
But he doesn’t stop. He pushes me down so that I’m on the floor and he’s on top of me, pressed hard against me. He’s breathing hard and rutting against my diaper. It almost feels like sex, the way the warm, wet diaper is digging into my sex, the way he’s holding me so close.
“Why can you like it, but not me?”
“You don’t like it!”
“Oh, but I do.” He gives one long, hard push to drive the point home. I open my hands to peek at him and his mouth connects with mine. He kisses me hard, as though he means to devour me, and I realize that I’ve wanted this for a long time.
There’s no denying that he’s aroused by finding me like this. I melt and let him kiss me as fiercely as he wants to.
I begin to get nervous again, but he reassures me, “I like that it’s wet! It’s so sexy.” He kisses me. “Can you wet it some more?”
I bite my lip and nod.
I relax and let the rest of the warm liquid flood my diaper. It swells up and overflows each time he pushes against me.
“Oh, fuck!” His hand flutters around my hips as he tries to undo the tapes of the diaper, but he’s never done this before and can’t seem to figure it out. I reach down and help him, untaping the sides so that he can pull down the front of my diaper and slide his dripping cock into me.
He thrusts over and over again, the diaper making a sweet squish each time he pushes into me. His arms are wrapped around my neck and he has me pulled close to him. My eyes are closed and all my being is focused on experiencing the warmth of his body and the warmth of the diaper as they cradle me from either side.
He’s breathing like an animal as he pants, “You’re a dirty little girl. I can’t believe that I’ve been fucking such a sick little pervert for so long and didn’t even realize it. What other dirty things do you do when you’re alone?”
I gently push him back until we’re looking into each others’ eyes. “You have no idea.”
He cums inside of me and I feel the warmth everywhere: in my sex, on my ass, on my belly. It feels amazing and I can’t wait to feel it again.
Last night was my first cam show for KinkLive.com and it was a blast. Everything went perfectly and I couldn’t have asked for a better first show.
I brought some of my favorite toys with me: two girdlebound.com corselettes–my custom dyed purple and green ones, the Secrets in Lace stockings that I got for my birthday, my Falke pantyhose, two pairs of high heels including my super high baby blue ones from Elite Heels, baby powder, and some Bambino classicos. I was a little worried about the diapers, but I wanted to have them there just in case. I’m glad that I did, because I actually got to wear one! It was great!
I was also excited that there were guys there into the Daddy thing. I spent most of the night playing with a Daddy, actually. How we got into it was a little odd, actually. He took me into private and started calling me “baby,” which I guess a lot of guys do, but I reacted on automatic and asked if I could call him Daddy. He sort of laughed and said yes and that was how we spent the rest of the night. He took off for a bit, then came back and was all “Daddy’s home” about it and it was SO HOT.
A lot of people seemed into my breastmilk, too, which is a huge fantasy for me, but something that I’m a little shy about. I mean, for the people who aren’t into it, it’s really gross, but people were having me milk myself and lick it up and spank the milk out of my breasts. It was amazing. Tonight I’m bringing my breast pump, actually. It’s going to be awesome!
So, I started an email list so that you can know when I’m going to be on cam and I’m thinking of doing themed days, like high heels, plastic pants, collars, uniforms, etc. I hope to see you over at KinkLive.com!
My girlfriend asked me recently why I like diapers and I thought, you know, that would make a great post. Of course I don’t think it matters WHY anyone likes diapers, anymore than it matters why someone likes breasts or fried chicken or the color blue. It’s rather missing the point. However, because diapers are such a rare fetish, it might help to be able to put it into words.
My girlfriend isn’t really into diapers, but I think she realizes that they aren’t the horrible, crazy fetish that a lot of people might imagine them to be. If I break down the specific things that I like about them, I can see a lot of parallels between diaper fetishism and, say, stocking fetishism or high heel fetishism or any other fetish object really. When I think of my interest in the act of changing, I can see parallels between my fetish and other fetish acts, like smoking a cigarette or shaving one’s legs.
So, I thought I would break down my explanation into two parts: why I like the physical object, and why I like the process associated with it.
Why I Like Diapers
- The plastic of disposables is soft and has a distinctive smell that I associate with romance and eroticism.
- The plastic of plastic pants is soft and has a distinctive smell that I associate with romance and eroticism.
- The crinkle sounds are subtle and sweet, something to listen for that sends a shock of electricity through me when I hear it under an attractive person’s clothes. It immediately tells me that there’s something unusual under their clothing, that I know something intimate about them that others might not.
- Diapers draw attention to the genitals.
- The soft feel and extra squishiness around the genitals adds tactile simulation for the wearer and their partner.
- The smell of baby powder is erotic and alluring.
- As something potentially embarrassing, sharing a diaper fetish increases the intimacy between two people to a level that I imagine is not experienced by most people, or that I cannot experience with people who don’t know about my diaper fetish.
Why I Like Changing
- The ritual draws me in and lets me know that it is time for sex.
- I enjoy the emphasis on genital cleanliness. The genitals can be shaved, wiped, powdered, and rubbed with baby oil or petroleum jelly.
- It focuses wholly on the genital area and is an excuse to gaze at, fondle, explore, and even lick the genitals.
- The inclusion of sex in a changing scene is taboo and exciting–I still never wholly expect it after all this time.
- I enjoy the inherent power dynamic to the position, one person being supine while the other looms over the partner being changed.
- I enjoy the inherent power dynamic to one person making such fundamental decisions about another’s bathroom use, cleanliness, and adult privileges and practices.
- I enjoy the romance implied by the extreme intimacy of a diaper change.
- When I’m being changed, looking up into my partner’s eyes, I feel exposed and accepted. They see all of me–my quirks, my shame, my joy, my fears, my needs–and they still care enough for me to clean me, care for me, and love me completely.