Italian stepmom pisses in her big diaper at the windowfeaturing Nicoletta Embassi

but a feeling of comfort and regression that enveloped him like a warm blanket.
The rustling of the plastic against his legs, the soft padding that muffled every movement, gave him a sense of peace and abandonment that he couldn’t find anywhere else. He moved around the house with unusual slowness, savoring every step, every rub of the diaper against his skin. Sometimes he would sit on the sofa, sinking into the cushions, and let himself be lulled by that feeling of protection and intimacy.
Nicoletta knew that her pleasure was unusual, perhaps bizarre for some. But she didn’t care. In those moments, with his secret well-kept within the walls of his home, he felt free to be himself, without judgment or constraints.
Sometimes, while cooking or reading a boo