(CW: sexual ageplay)

I would meet him at his private office for lunch with a cartoon lunchbox tucked inside my bag filled with little snacks and a juice box for him and a take out meal from a favorite restaurant for myself. Once I had the door locked he would relax and drop his professional facade, melting into my arms and snuggling my neck while I reached around and checked the diaper he was wearing under his clothes. Finding it squishy with moisture (big, powerful men can’t leave their desks for menial things like going to the bathroom after all 😏), I’d have him hop up on his desk and change him into a fresh, dry diaper.

I’d leave his pants off while we sat crisscross applesauce on his office floor, letting him lean against me while enjoying our lunch, me feeding him small bites of his food while I ate my own.

Once we were done I would notice the tent in the front of his diaper, teasing him about it and rubbing him through the thick, crinkly material. He’d whine about wishing he was done with work already, how much he just wanted to be my little boy and not worry about the world outside his door. Pulling him into my lap, I’d kiss him deep and slow while holding back chuckles at the feeling of him riding against my thigh and clutching at my shirt.

When I had him properly worked up and needy, I’d pull away and ask him if he’d forgotten about dessert. My little man would stare and shake his head, brain fuzzy from our make out session. I’d slide off my own pants while I walked over to his tall, expensive chair and sat down, sinking into the leather that smelled like him before catching his eyes where he stood and snapping my fingers with a clear point down between my legs.

I’d spread my legs purposefully as he sank to his knees in front of me, eyes wide and wanting in the face of his “dessert.” At my command he would lean in and begin to eat me out, hungry and reverent and thankful to be given such a treat, suckling at my clit like it was his paci.

Once he’d used his mouth to get me off at least three times, he’d look up at me, lips deep pink and face smeared with my slick and ask in a nervous little boy voice if I would let him eat my ass as well. Agreeing, I would slip off the chair and stretch out on my knees and chest on the floor, sighing happily as he knelt behind me and started to lick long stripes between my cheeks.

When he started to whine and beg and cry that he felt too hard and tingly I’d flip over and wrap him up tight in my arms, letting him rub against my stomach until he finally came into his diaper.

I’d hold him close in the aftermath and kiss his little cheek, telling him how good he did and how proud I was that he was being such a big boy and getting his work done. When we’d both caught our breath I would offer to change him again, only to have him beg me to let him keep his sticky diaper on until he got home. Laughing at my silly boy, I’d help him back into his suit instead, use a baby wipe to clean his face, and then pack up our lunch, telling him I loved him before stepping out and waving goodbye to his secretary.