Nappies and New Rules

Philip arrived at his aunt Beverley’s sprawling California home with the usual English reserve, suitcase in hand and a wry smile. At eighteen, the summer stay was meant to be a carefree escape before university, but the American heat and Beverley’s effortless glamour already felt intoxicating. Beverley, thirty-six and still turning heads with her sharp cheekbones and confident stride, greeted him with a hug that lingered a second too long. Her daughter Emma, also eighteen and every bit as striking with her sun-kissed skin and mischievous green eyes, stood beside her, arms crossed, already sizing him up. “Welcome, cousin,” Emma said, voice laced with playful challenge. “Try not to embarrass yourself too quickly.”

Dinner that first night stretched into lively banter. Philip, unused to the bold California wines, drank far more than he intended. Laughter flowed easily between the three of them, Beverley’s dry wit matching Emma’s quick retorts. “You English boys are all talk until the sun hits you,” Beverley teased, refilling his glass. Philip fired back, “And you Americans think everything’s a competition.” Emma leaned in, eyes sparkling. “It is when we’re winning.” By the time they cleared the table, Philip’s head spun pleasantly, and he excused himself early.

The next morning, Beverley’s voice cut through the hallway like a blade. “Philip, a word.” She stood in his doorway holding the soaked sheets, expression unreadable yet commanding. “You drank too much and wet the bed. House rules are clear.” Philip’s face burned. “Aunt Beverley, it was an accident—” She raised a hand. “No excuses. Emma was often back in nappies until last year. You’ll follow the same rule.” That evening after dinner, she gathered them in the living room. “To share the workload, I’m teaching Emma how to handle this. Philip, you’ll be bathed, creamed, powdered, and pinned into terry nappies with plastic panties every night.” Emma’s lips curved in a wicked grin. “This should be fun.”

Philip protested, but Beverley’s tone brooked no argument. “Upstairs. Now.” In the bathroom, steam rose as Emma tested the water. Beverley directed: “Strip. Both of us will handle this properly.” Philip hesitated, but the two women’s steady gazes left little room. Once undressed, he stepped into the tub. Emma’s hands were firm yet teasing as she soaped his chest. “Relax, cousin. We’ve done this before.” Beverley added, “Though never with such an audience.” The water lapped warmly while their fingers worked lower, tension thickening the air. Philip felt himself harden despite the situation. Emma noticed first. “Well, well. Someone’s enjoying the attention.”

Dried and led to the bedroom, Philip lay on the towel-draped bed. Beverley squeezed cream into Emma’s palm. “Rub it in thoroughly—everywhere.” Emma’s touch was confident, spreading the cool lotion over his cock and balls, her fingers lingering. “He’s already hard. Typical boy.” Philip groaned, “You two are making this impossible to stay calm.” Beverley laughed, low and throaty. “That’s the point, dear nephew. We’re strong enough to handle whatever comes up.” She sprinkled baby powder next, the scent filling the room while Emma patted it across his ass and thighs. Philip’s breathing grew ragged. “This is humiliating,” he muttered. Emma leaned close, whispering, “Humiliating or horny? Your dripping cock says the latter.”

Beverley unfolded the thick terry nappy with expert folds. “Lift your hips.” As she pinned it snugly around his waist, Emma’s hand brushed his now-throbbing length through the fabric. The contact sparked. Philip gasped. “Emma—” She silenced him with a kiss, bold and demanding, while Beverley watched with approval. “We share everything here,” Beverley said, voice husky. Clothes came off in a rush. Emma straddled his face, her wet pussy pressing against his mouth as she commanded, “Use that tongue, cousin.” Beverley freed his cock from the nappy’s edge and took him in a slow, expert blowjob, her tongue swirling until he was panting and sweating.

The nappy stayed partially pinned as they shifted. Emma lowered herself onto his hard cock, riding him with fierce rhythm, her ass bouncing while she moaned, “Deeper—yes.” Beverley kissed her daughter, then straddled Philip’s mouth, her own dripping pussy grinding against his lips. “Make me come too.” The room filled with panting, wet sounds, and sharp cries. Philip thrust upward, hands gripping Emma’s hips as she came first, clenching around him. Beverley followed, thighs trembling. Finally he came hard, cum spilling as the women collapsed beside him, bodies slick and satisfied.

Beverley refastened the nappy and pulled on Emma’s old plastic panties, the crinkle loud in the quiet. “Rules are rules, but tonight we bent them nicely.” Emma smirked, tracing his chest. “Same time tomorrow?” Beverley’s eyes gleamed with promise. “The workload’s only just beginning.”