The One

The OneTaken from: Country Rose 3

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here is a little story about answering the most important question of all.

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The One

May 15th

One year and two weeks ago, life began for Rose Bedford. Well, it actually began again for her. It took massive relocation from New England to the Southeast, re-establishment of self, new employment and a new outlook on everything for her to pull the lever and reset her life. But it had to be done. And all of this Rose did with the absolute disapproval of her family and friends. Despite how difficult the drastic changes sounded, they were actually quite easy to do and to adapt to. All she needed was to meet a cowboy who had a deep southern accent, a gaze in his eyes that melted her and this wonderfully bad habit of taking his shirt. And suddenly, everything fell into place, once again.

Emmitt was his name and the day Rose met him, her life began anew … as his BabyGirl and as the essence of each-n-every heartbeat within his chest.

————-

Rose sat up straight on the little stool in the middle of her pottery kiln room, located right next to the main horse barn. Taking the drenched bandanna off her hair and rolling her head around in circles in an effort to get the stiffness out of her neck, she took her pink pacifier out of her mouth for just a few seconds. She had just spent the last five hours making pottery – dishes, plates, pitchers, vases and whatever else the current order asked for. It was some time last year that she took up pottery-making as a simple hobby. And after having been able to sell all of it in a local Southern Pines crafts store, she formed her own one-woman company – Country Rose Pottery.

And my, oh my, had she quickly made a name for herself. Businesses and other crafts shops began to contact her – placing orders for her pottery. Rose suddenly found herself quite busy. But she never viewed it as work. How could she possibly see this activity she enjoyed as being worked? Yes, she got paid for it and was paid very well. And yes, she demanded that Emmitt re-enact the pottery scene from the movie ‘Ghost’ several times a week – going so far as to buy the movie to show him how to do it properly.

But her little pottery business wasn’t so little anymore and it had created quite a bit of interest. Determined to never change anything about herself because of her sudden success, Rose kept that pottery kiln – opting to not outsource the work. She would always make each piece of pottery herself. And she would always wear one of Emmitt’s old button-down denim shirts – for which she commandeered as her pottery-making attire, along with her pink flip flops, her pink diapers, her pink bandannas and her pink pacifiers.

Standing up and straightening out her stiffened back, Rose waddled over to the little oven where she always put the pottery she had just made. And today’s order was a particularly special one. She had been contacted by a lady from Myrtle Beach – a grandmother who so loved Rose’s pottery that she wanted a complete set of plateware, bowls and more to be made for her infant granddaughter. What endeared Rose even more so to the request was that this infant granddaughter’s name was also Rose. Etching those four letters into the side of each pottery piece, Rose closed the oven and turned it on, then walking out of the kiln and taking in a full breath of the fresh, mid-May air.

What a wonderful spring it had been already, the second one she had now spent in Southern Pines, North Carolina. While spring time was always a beautiful time of renewal for nature, it all seemed to be just a bit more beautiful under those breath-taking Carolina blue skies. And Emmitt’s horse farm, that wonderful landscape all around her she now called home, was welcoming the return of spring as well, of good weather and of new life. Birds filled the skies once more. Deer constantly ran through the horse farm, from the pine tree line on the one side of the property to the pine tree line on the other side of the property. And though the evergreen woods remained evergreen year-round, the other trees on the property had returned to full-bloom, budding initially as they always did this time of year.

Looking up at the farm house, Rose reached under the elastic edgings at the back of her pink diaper, pulling them outward, to let a little cool air flow in as she worked the diaper wedgie out. It wasn’t a very lady-like thing to do, but she really didn’t care. No one was there. Who was gonna say something? The horses? And besides, the usual adjustments of the fit of clothing as well as those dreaded itches in the wrong places were things that any girl would deal with. But unlike a lot of guys who simply scratched themselves whenever the need arose, girls waited until they had a little privacy to perform such actions. It was called modesty as well as manners.

Strangely, while standing out in the open, in the middle of Emmitt’s horse farm property, she actually did have privacy. Up in Boston, there was no privacy at all. That wonderful city had been built a long time ago and had been added to ever since, leaving little room undeveloped. But down in the wide open spaces of North Carolina, life was a bit more spread out, a bit more enjoyable and a whole lot more relaxed.

Behind the farm house were a series of Atlantic White cedar trees, giving the back of the house wonderful shade with their heights of 45 feet and diameters of several feet a piece while not blocking the view of the countryside. Rose read that they could grow as high as 85 feet. Aside from shade, they also had a slight fragrance to them – making her time on the back porch a bit more enjoyable as she overlooked the pond and the main horse field.

On the other side of that pond and field was her little cottage – the one she initially called home when she moved down from New England before she moved into the farm house with Emmitt. Nowadays, her little cottage served as the perfect storage facility for her pottery supplies. It also served as the perfect hiding place for her crib and all the accessories Emmitt had put into the guest bedroom of the farm house to transform it into her nursery. But they only hid those nursery items in the cottage when they knew they would be having visitors.

Rose turned around and crinkled her way over to the horse barn, chewing on the silicone nipple of her pink pacifier as she thought about her BFF’s forthcoming visit at the end of the month.

Oh, she could hardly wait until Bree came down to see her from Boston. Bree was the only person in this world, other than Emmitt, who Rose had shared her little secret with. And when Rose took Emmitt up to Boston last fall, Bree got a bird’s eye view of the Daddy-n-BabyGirl dynamic shared between Rose and her cowboy lover boy. Before that visit ended, Bree asked if she could come down to see them in Southern Pines. She had actually planned on coming to visit them in January, but the most recent winter in Boston had been a particularly bad one. So the trip was rescheduled to the end of May.

And now, just two weeks remained until Bree arrived. There would be no hiding storage of the nursery when Bree visited as she was well-aware that Rose crinkled when she walked, slept with a teddy bear and lived in a hidden nook her cowboy Daddy created for her.

Opening the doors of the horse barn, Rose walked in, smiling brightly at the sight of the little diaper changing area Emmitt had set up in the hay. Yes, she crinkled all the time – no matter where she went. It was her choice, but also Emmitt’s insistence as he had gone from being clueless about age play to being the most loving and attentive Daddy Rose could’ve dreamed of and hoped for. And he was able to make this transition in a remarkably quick amount of time.

But the sight of that little diaper changing area brought her thoughts back to the baby pottery she just made in the kiln. And this thought sparked her most recent recurring issue of worry … one that included incitement from her biological clock.

Yes, Rose was a BabyGirl. But she was also a woman who wanted to get married and who wanted to have a family. It was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow for her, the little bit of ‘Happily Ever After’ that seemed to evoke the sweetest emotions within her. But she knew she wanted to be married first – though, on more than one occasion in the past year, she had contemplated not taking the birth control pills anymore. What kept her taking those pills was the fact that getting pregnant was a decision that was only half hers. Emmitt would need to consent as well.

And all it took was a simple thought of Emmitt to make her swoon. Crinkling over to Stud, the brown-n-white horse, she scratched the sides of its face as it licked her cheeks and nose. This was another habit Stud had gotten into doing along with snorting every time Rose snorted with laughter. But Stud was beginning to lose its hearing, thought it seemed the only noise that horse still faithfully heard was Rose’s snorts of laughter. Emmitt was convinced that Stud was just pretending to lose his hearing. But the truth was: Stud was starting to how his age. The horse was still in fine health and wouldn’t be leaving their company any time soon, but time had taken its toll on the pinto.

Clipping a lead to its halters, she walked Stud out of the stall by its reins, ding the same with her two other favorite horses: Cinder – the coal black stallion with blinding speed and MilkDrop – a pure white thoroughbred that sustained permanent ligament damage to its right rear ankle when it raced in The Kentucky Derby.

Leading the horses over to the fenced-in field next to the pond, Rose climbed up onto MilkDrop’s back while letting the other two run freely. A portion of keeping MilkDrop’s right rear ankle in as good of shape as possible was to exercise and ride the horse each-n-every day. And as she brought the horse up to a slow gallop in the fenced-in field, Rose thought back to the day she met Emmitt – in the spring of last year.

She could recall it so vividly still, standing next to that Budget moving truck and kicking the flat tire as Emmitt rode up to her on the back of Stud the horse. Oh my, did she swoon at first sight of him. Oh my, did she tingle and oh my, did she melt when she heard his deep timbre – heavy-laden with a southern twang she quickly grew to love. It was like their initial meeting was a scene torn directly from the pages of a fairy tale, of a romance not only waiting but destined to happen.

Emmitt had been away for three whole days on a short business trip, filling in his clients on the progress and condition of their horses. But he would be home tomorrow afternoon and when she saw him, she already knew that she would run up to him – leaping into his arms and probably wetting herself with affectionate excitement. Emmitt had a way of empowering her to be all she could be while at the same time, softening her to mush. And Rose couldn’t have been happier to have followed him wherever she was led – literally and figuratively.

The delivery man pulled up to the front of the farm house, filling the mailbox and honking at Rose as he pulled away. She slowed MilkDrop to a slow trot as she rode the horse out of the fenced-in field and up the dirt path to the mailbox.

They only mail that day was two slips of paper – indicating two packages addressed to Emmitt that needed to be picked up at the Southern Pines Post Office. Thinking of the time of day, Rose rode MilkDrop back over and into the fenced-in field. Then she dismounted and crinkled her way quickly up to the farm house. If she kept focus, she would be able to get a quick shower and ride into town before the post office closed. It seemed like a good idea since the post office wouldn’t be open again until Monday and she certainly wanted to have the packages ready for her cowboy Daddy’s homecoming tomorrow.

But what on Earth could the packages be that were too big to be delivered to the farm house by the mail man?

————

Rose jumped into her Jeep and slammed on the gas, stirring up a cloud of dust as she sped down James Creek Road – having made record time in getting a shower, getting dressed and getting made up for a quick appearance in public. It really wasn’t that difficult to get ready so swiftly. But the way Rose saw it, there really wasn’t a usual reason to get ready in a hurry – unless she was racing against time or a business closing for the day. She had spent far too much of her life in a hurry up in New England, but down here, things moved at a pace that enabled the human condition to be remembered. This particular little trip, however, legitimately required a little lickety-split. So, she moved fast. Blaring Sheryl Crow’s If It Makes You Happy, she bee-lined her way to the edge of town and then started driving the speed limit when she knew she would make it to the Southern Pines Post Office by 4pm.

Fresh out of the shower, with the wind drying and tousling her hair, Rose pulled on the lapels of her light blue jean jacket, shifting to work the light flowing casual dress out from underneath her seated position – her freshly powdered and freshly pink-diapered bottom plopping down on the seat as she came to a red light. Slipping her bare feet into the pair of brown sandals she always kept in her Jeep, she looked in the rear view mirror – quickly checking her obligatory application of light flirting make-up any girl would put on before going out into public.

At that intersection, she saw the new business that had been under construction for quite some time. And, now completed, it was open: The RainStorm Bistro & More. Oh, what fun it seemed like it would be. She would definitely have to suggest it to Emmitt.

And that was all it took to make her swoon, the mere simple thought of him. But why shouldn’t she swoon? Emmitt would be home tomorrow! And she intended to smother him the very moment she saw him, having already detailed in her mind what that moment would be like. Three days really wasn’t all that long of a time to be separated, except if three seconds already felt like a lifetime – let alone half a week.

Pulling up in front of the post office, Rose hopped out of her Jeep, smiling proudly at the vehicle she had purchased from the money she made spinning clay into pottery. And my, oh my, what a wonderful feeling it was to actually enjoy her job. She had often heard the statement: If you enjoy what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life. But she never understood what it meant … until she created Country Rose Pottery.

Crinkling her way towards the post office entrance, she lowered her chin, tucking her hair behind her ears and blushing a little as her mere passing by had attracted the attention of a few locals who were loitering outside the building as well as a few delivery men who had just returned from their routes. Inside the post office, there really wasn’t much of a line as they would be closing in ten minutes. It was a smaller building and one that kept the small town charm about it.

Taking small steps forward, Rose felt the rush of tummyflies that always accompanied those crinkles in any out-n-about setting. Likely no one could hear them but her. Then again, it was just as likely that everyone could hear them. She was no longer a stranger or a newbie in Southern Pines and enough chance run-ins with the locals might’ve sparked interests or curiosities … or both. Not to forget to mention was the fact that her pink diapers always arrived at that post office. Yes, they were always discreetly packaged in a plain cardboard box. But all it really would’ve taken was one postal worker’s search of the mailing address to discover what the company was about and perhaps … to deduce what that cardboard box held.

Stepping up to the counter and handing in the package slips, Rose glanced over at a notice on the community board – one that told about the illegal practice of deer poaching. Within Southern Pines and the surrounding areas of North Carolina, there had been an unexpected increase in the local deer population. This increase was being addressed and taken care of, but the increase posed another problem … namely, poachers who were hunting these deer out-of-season and in doing so, were compromising the safety of otherwise peaceful communities as they were trespassing on properties to hunt the deer. The public notice urged citizens to not hunt the deer. And for as much as Rose could remember, she couldn’t recall hearing any gunfire on or near Emmitt’s horse farm. But my goodness, how horrifying of a thought that there could be hunters in the pine woods near the farm house. The horses would certainly become alarmed by random gun shots.

The two packages for pick-up only that were addressed to Emmitt were another cardboard box of her pink diapers and a certified letter that was sent to him, but actually addressed to her. It was from the Waccamack Corporation, a pottery company based out of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. They were quite interested in Country Rose Pottery and had offered to buy her out several times. But she always turned them down, saying that the buyout price wasn’t nearly enough. The real truth was: it would take millions upon millions upon millions of dollars to make her merely consider the possibility of selling out.

Country Rose Pottery wasn’t just a business venture for her. It wasn’t just a means for a way of life. It symbolized every change in her life that had spanned the past year and it also symbolized every bit of her future that she could conceivably imagine as well as the unforeseeable. But, as with everything, there was always a question that accompanied her thoughts. And as she put the box of diapers in the back of her Jeep and headed home, that question crept into the forefront of her reflections – encompassing the entire core of herself.

Was Emmitt The One?

Ohhhh! Why? Why did she have to think of that now? The day was beautiful. The mood was of excitement for his forthcoming return home. She was happy. She was healthy. The world was her oyster. So why? Why look to the future when the present was going so well? And could she really believe that it was even possible to answer that question, in the first place? What exactly constituted someone being The One? Was there some sort of list of criteria required? Were there self-help books or websites to guide her through the process of learning how to pick up on the signs of guys who were The One-material?

It had been a year since Rose had moved from Boston down to Southern Pines, North Carolina – in search of something new, of something exciting and of something she could live for.

In the past year, she never once got into an argument with him, often wondering what was wrong with him for being so calm about moments when she wanted to pull her hair out. But it was also the rock-solid Emmitt, her Country Cowboy Daddy, who returned her to that sense of steadiness – that sense when everything seemed easier to deal with.

Proudly, within their relationship, Rose had brought something to the table at all points in time. Sometimes, it was the emotional support that was needed and sometimes it was money. But never had she mooched from him, never had she taken him for granted and never did she expect to be taken care of. Rose would have been self-sufficient – even if she hadn’t met him. And seeing him as a blessed surprise instead of as a means of survival or a means for change, Rose was able to see him as so much more.

She had found a way down to Southern Pines on her own, by her own means. She had moved herself, secured the cottage she would live in and along the way, had even begun her own business – one that was becoming quite lucrative. Everything was going better than she could’ve dreamed and she found herself dawning on the contemplation of no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop. Emmitt seemed constant and real and dependable – all characteristics Rose would say belonged to The One.

But maybe her greatest blessing of all was having the option to be nothing more than his BabyGirl – should she ever choose to. Having that choice was a wonderful thing indeed. She would’ve been happy just finding a man whose only idea of housework would’ve been to sweep her off her feet. But, lo and behold, Emmitt actually picked up a broom on a regular basis. In truth, he was horrible at housework. But that really didn’t matter. It was that he tried and that he never made assumptions. There wasn’t anything labeled as his chores or her chores, but rather, simply: things that needed to be done.

Certainly there were roles they assumed and responsibilities they divvied out. But they did so together. And every passing day, Rose fell more and more in love with this hunky Cowboy Daddy she had stumbled upon and claimed as her own.

The first year gone by was a solid one and it seemed the honeymoon hadn’t ended yet, crashing her back to Earth and dishing out to her an enormous spoonful of reality.

But what would happen when the honeymoon did end?

This was yet another question now on her mind as she pulled into the driveway and parked alongside the farm house. But even if the honeymoon actually did end, this place in the world around her really wouldn’t be any less magical, any less befitting of harboring her passion. Emmitt would be no less capable of holding her heart in his hands – if she suddenly discovered that he lacked patience in a certain area or showed some sign of weakness. At points, she truly wished he would show weakness – if for no reason other than to give her a role she would exclusively label as her own. But Emmitt was always rock solid … or so she thought.

Reaching into the back seat to get the box of diapers, Rose’s peripheral vision caught sight of the front bumper of his truck – in the main horse barn. Well, this couldn’t really be the case. He wasn’t supposed to be home until tomorrow. Getting out of the Jeep and walking around it, she squinted her eyes. And unless, she was dreaming or seeing things that weren’t there, his truck was definitely backed into the main horse barn.

“Daddy?” Rose called out, wondering what was going on.

A few moments of silence happened and then, as if the kindness of God above had decreed it to be so, Emmitt walked out of the horse barn – his shirt already gone. He had been restocking the hay bale racks in the barn from the back of his truck and had worked up the sweat that always made him take his shirt off. Rose’s knees grew weak and she practically collapsed. But before she fell over, she broke out into a full-waddled sprint towards him – taking her jean jacket off and flinging it up in the air before throwing her arms out and running into his arms.

They kissed and then she climbed up onto the front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

“Hello, Rose Petal,” Emmitt said with his deep southern twang.

Oh, my, he was sweaty. Very sweaty. But Rose couldn’t have been happier. He was home. Daddy was home. And that was all that mattered. It was at that very moment when every answer she sought suddenly presented itself to her. It was about balance. It had always been about balance.

Hmmm. Balance. That was what she had really found in Southern Pines. Balance of self, balance in life and balance of happiness. But she hadn’t found this balance because of Emmitt. Rather, she had found it with him. For every insecurity that crept back into her brain at inopportune moments, Emmitt had the ability to counteract her troubling doubts. And because of this, she never felt alone.

Oh my. Being Daddy-n-BabyGirl was more meaningful to her than she could’ve ever imagined. But never feeling alone, even when Emmitt was gone on a business trip, was the sweetest thing of all, it seemed.

In Boston, she was a part of things – kept in the loop but never made to feel like she was significant, regardless of whether it was her relationship or any other aspect of her life. And it was that kind of indifference from others that initially disconnected her from them.

In Southern Pines, she wasn’t a part of things, either. Instead, she was half of them – and depended upon to bring her half of something she was perfect for. She was needed and that need was evident, making her not just feel but also making her know that she belonged under Carolina blue skies. Emmitt had always made her feel empowered. He offered advice, but left the decisions to her … until she needed him to help her make up her mind. And the only reason he could tell that the moment was right was because he had paid attention when she spoke, when she spilled her heart and let her guard down.

Hugging him with intent of never letting go again, Rose could feel his heart pounding just as heavily as hers. The box of diapers in her Jeep could wait. They were only garnishments anyway. But Emmitt … well, he was the real package she was waiting for. And apparently, he had arrived as priority mail – even quicker than next-day mail delivery.

Eat your heart out, Southern Pines Post Office.

“Did ya get yer dishes done?” Emmitt asked, referencing the pottery order she had just finished that morning.

She nodded, but then sat back in his arms as he carried her towards the farm house. It wasn’t the question he asked that had suddenly alarmed her, but rather, the shakiness in his voice – something she rarely heard in his timbre. Looking in his eyes, she saw tears.

This, of course, instantly brought tears to her eyes, too. Emmitt missed her as much as she missed him. And, lo and behold, he was showing it. But it really wasn’t a sign of weakness, though Emmitt probably viewed it as such. Instead, it was really a sign of strength … the strength of an emotion running so deeply within him that it was pouring back out.

Oh, yes. He was definitely The One.

And the more she thought about it, the more she dared herself to think of the future, of a lifetime together with him, of that biological clock and of every little desire that normally would’ve spun her head in circles. But before he ever crossed the threshold of the front door of the farm house, Rose knew that not only was her head about to be spun by him again but also her senses and every other part of her being.

Oh, my. The welcome home was the only reason she ever allowed him to leave the horse farm on business trips, to begin with.

“I missed ya horribly, Rosie,” Emmitt whispered in her ear, sending warm breath down the side of her neck and onto her sternum.

“I missed you too, Daddy,” Rose whispered back, her voice already turning little but with a steadily-growing lustful tone.

“An’ I was so worried,” Emmitt admitted as he set her to her feet and began to slowly back her up towards the island table in the center of the kitchen.

“Why?” Rose asked with a tone now added a breathy quality to its lustfulness.

They both knew there would be no further work done on the horse farm for the rest of that day or of the coming night. There were far more important things that needed to be done … again … and again … and again … until neither of them could do anything more. Time wasn’t the issue, nor interruptions. They had the rest of life to pace out. But then again, there was no better time than the present. And sometimes, pacing things only put off the pleasure that could be enjoyed as opposed to finding longevity. In other words, it was going to feel very good. It was wanted. It was needed. And it was time.

“I was so worried my BabyGirl mighta been growin’ up while I was away,” Emmitt said, lifting up the lower length of her casual dress and backing her diapered bottom into the edge of the island table. “An’ Daddy doesn’t wanna see that happen ever. Do ya wanna grow up an’ be a Big Girl?”

“No,” Rose answered with a fussy tone, her tummy becoming flustered with butterflies as she felt those glorious tingles in all the right places.

“So Daddy comes home a day early and finds his BabyGirl all dressed up like a Big Girl,” Emmitt said, lifting the casual dress up her frame as he bent her backwards and eased her down on the top of the island table – her knees bending at the table’s edge and the lower half of her legs dangling down as he lifted the dress up off her head and pinned her wrists above her head, still wrapped up in the dress. “Ya look pretty, Rose Bud. But it’s time to get the Big Girl outta ya, isn’t it?”

Her eyes grew big-n-wide at his question as he parted her bent knees and yanked her back towards him, her diapered center being pressed against the front of his jeans. Yes, when she first saw him, she did indeed get wet, but not in any manner that needed to be changed. Instead, she waited until just now to begin to moisten to a swell.

This was how love always started between them and it was the perfect way to reduce her to submission without reducing her esteem. Helplessly, she followed his aggressions and his tease.

“Did ya wet yer diaper, Little Rosie?” Emmitt asked, Rose shuddering at the double-meaning of his question while tingle from his advancements as well as the sight of his naked torso.

And he hadn’t taken his pants off yet.

“Yes, Daddy,” Rose whispered with an almost inaudible tone, her heart pounding so heavily and her head spinning her into dizziness that she likely would’ve collapsed – had she been standing.

Closing her eyes, she arched her back, heaving her chest up as Emmitt held her wrists down with his left hand while reaching underneath her arch with his right hand. She knew the routine and she knew it well. Emmitt unfastened the bra strap between her shoulder blades, the support releasing her cups as he pulled the bra up her arms, off her chest and all the way up to the dress that still enveloped her restrained wrists.

“Now ye’re a bit more properly dressed for the occasion,” Emmitt said, his southern twang mixing with a lustful timbre – Rose lying beneath him in nothing but her diaper and her earrings … tingling all over at this point. “But I promise ya … we will both get dressed up some night soon. There will be wine and food and a bit of homecookin’ that can’t be done on the grill outside.”

Rose wrapped the lower half of her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at his lower lumbar and yanking herself closer to him – her diapered center now making constant contact with the front of his jeans. Her irises burned with desire and the building within of so much more had quickly begun. Rose had amassed quite a collection of pacifiers and she had spread them throughout the house so she would always be near one when she needed it. Though they just seemed scattered everywhere, they were actually placed in very strategic locations. Picking up the pacifier she left on the island table, Emmitt touched its rubber nipple to her lower lip. She opened her mouth and took the nipple in, never breaking eye-contact with him as his right hand traveled down to her right areola … and then her left, his fingers gently rubbing and squeezing her nipples until they puffed up.

Oh, was he the eternal charmer and even after he had captivated her mind, her senses and her body – he still worked a magic of control over her that enveloped her soul with the warmth and security of a blanket.

Releasing her wrists and tossing her clothing away, Emmitt placed his left hand behind her and his right forearm beneath her diapered bottom as he sat her up and lifted her off the island table. Rose wrapped her arms and legs around him, resting the side of her face on his left shoulder as she closed her eyes and nursed on her pacifier while taking in a deep nose-full of his scent. She swore his pheromones became even more potent when he sweated and released with a greater potency as he cooled down.

Being carried up the stairs, Rose remained clung to him as she knew where he was taking her and what was about to happen. But this particular welcoming home wouldn’t be physically rough at all. He wouldn’t spank her or try to pull her hair out as he rammed himself inside her. No. Instead, the sensations of love she was about to experience would be as gentle and as deliberate as possible – delivering her to a climax that put the end game of rough sex to shame.

And the reason why she knew this was because he had given her a little pinch of pain to each nipple – displacing her attention until he got her to bed. Emmitt was a master at mind games, too. And he never would’ve known it about himself – had he not met Rose. It was his ability to redirect her thoughts that made her see him as a different kind of end game … The One.

Emmitt carried her past the guest bedroom turned nursery and straight into his bedroom. She still referred to it as his bedroom – perhaps as a way of teasing herself into regression with thoughts that a BabyGirl belonged in a crib, not a bed and in a nursery, not a bedroom.

Easing her down onto the mattress with such care that she felt herself made of fragile China glass, Emmitt reached down to her waist, slid his fingers inside the waist band of her diaper, gripped the tapes and yanked on them. The tapes ripped apart and he pulled the diaper away. Rose parted her thighs, putting her wrists along either side her head on the pillow and gazing up at him as she watched him stand up, kick his boots off, unfasten his belt buckle and lower his jeans-n-underwear.

Upon first sight of his nakedness, Rose shuddered again – beginning to fidget already from the forthcoming pleasure she could already imagine as she felt herself getting just a bit wetter between the legs. As Emmitt climbed into bed, positioning himself between her legs, she breathed in deeply through her nose – faithfully nursing on her pacifier as the want urged to need.

Their eyes made contact before anything else and they would remain locked in each other’s gazes until the summit appeared. Emmitt touched the tip of his stiffness to her opening, Rose already swollen and moistened to receive him.

As he slid in, ever so slowly, she whimpered softly behind her pacifier, breathing in deeply through her nose again – hoping to get as many deep breaths in before she became so worked up that she could no longer breathe calmly.

His length began to penetrate its way further inside her canal, Rose already shifting at his girth. But her eyes remained locked. She could feel his rock-hard condition, this giving her that first initial sense of being overwhelmed but also giving her that first initial sense of worth. And the stiffer he was, the more she felt that he wanted her. Emmitt was beyond arousal and Rose was the reason for that. Knowing that he wanted her empowered her to crave him even more.

Her canal continued to spread open to a wonderful tightness as he continued his journey inward, her wetness making the glide easy and also filling her emotions with a further sense of helplessness as she succumbed to the fact that she was defenseless but to receive him.

Their pelvic bones met as he pressed his hips against the back of her spread-eagled thighs, trying to push just a bit more into her to connect with her cervix. This was the first moment when Emmitt made sound, her incredible tightness, wetness and warmth within wrapping around him and making him exhale with an audible growl of pleasure.

Rose’s heart began to pound even harder. Not only did he want her, but she gave him satisfaction, so much so that he couldn’t keep control of himself. Earlier, tears in his eyes showed the overload of emotions. And now his voice showed the overload of sensations.

He began to withdraw from inside her, Rose immediately tightening her canal and squeezing as hard as she could to prevent his retreat. She knew the subtle movements to make that would not only fuel his passion but also hers. Whimpering at the fact that she couldn’t keep him from pulling out, tears of fuss welled in her eyes as her forehead wrinkled a little.

“Hush now, Rose Petal,” Emmitt said with sweetness as he began to slide back in. “Show Daddy what a good girl ya are.”

Rose relaxed her core and Emmitt glided back in, this time touching sensitive areas that the first journey hadn’t awakened yet. And from not resisting, Rose was rocked with the first tiny little bit of spasming. Oh, it would take a lot more until she gave up her modesty and submitted fully. But knowing that he had already stimulated her to such reaction was an intense understanding of how powerful her forthcoming pleasure would be.

Though a secondary attraction, the physical had melted into the emotional as Rose grew more and more in love with him. They really didn’t have much in common when they first met. She was a city girl. He was a country boy. But because they had a bond with each other, the differences soon became what they had in common. And when Rose thought of him now, she wasn’t just filled with affection for that dynamic but also with affection for his touch. It all had melted into one.

Emmitt began to rock his hips back-n-forth, making Rose’s frame beneath him move the same. She had relaxed herself completely and was now beginning to climb to the summit. Calm breathing could no longer be made and she clenched the rubber nipple of her pacifier between her teeth, pushing it upward to be able to breathe into her mouth around it. No matter how much quicker his penetrations became, she always produced the reciprocating shudder and additional wetness to keep his glides in-n-out of her as easy as could be. And in the process, her climb to the summit began to skyrocket.

Rose’s mouth dropped wide open, the pacifier falling from her lips and Emmitt placing his forearms on top of her as they interlocked fingers. She was ready to convulse, to submit and to cum for him. But she resisted with as much ability as she had left to do so. It was very difficult to deny herself pleasure she knew would feel amazing. But she was determined to wait for him. That way, when at the summit, she wouldn’t just be orgasming because of him, but also, with him.

Three days of separation had felt like three years. But as her canal contracted and then released, she could no longer remember those three days. And she no longer cared about tomorrow or of the future. All that mattered was the present.

Emmitt tightened his groin muscles and grunted, collapsing on top of her as his seeds shot out – hitting the back wall of her womb with a stinging heat that initiated her orgasm onward. Her canal tightened as they both tried to keep the rocking of penetration and withdraw in motion. But within a few moments, both were rigid and paralyzed as his seeds kept emptying into her and her canal tightened around his girth – refusing to release their clench.

They would remain there, Rose erratically spasming as each ribbon of pleasure poured out of her – washing over her frame and giving her that warm, wonderful feeling that always led into afterglow. Emmitt would remain inside her for a few more minutes, having shifted up onto her pelvic bone to not bear his weight down on her. And when he would finally kneel up, slowly withdrawing from her for the final time, Rose’s canal would tighten even more so – encouraging her to tease herself with a gentle rub until the muscles released.

Plunking her fallen pacifier back into her mouth and continuing her gentle rub, she closed her eyes and smiled brightly as Emmitt got up and walked into the bathroom. If nothing else, at moments like this, he was a predictable guy. But he was her predictable guy. And as she waited for his return, her mind softened – basking in the ambiances of the physical as well as the affections of the mental.

Emmitt walked back out from the bathroom, still naked from head to toe. And in his hand was one of her pink diapers. Unfolding it, he sat alongside the bed and placed it flat to the mattress between her parted legs.

Oh, yes. He was definitely The One.

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…………………………….. The Country Rose Series
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Country Rose Country Rose 2 Country Rose 3 Country Rose 4 Country Rose 5

Country Rose
Country Rose 2
Country Rose 3
Country Rose 4
Country Rose 5

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If you like The Country Rose Series,  I’d also recommend checking out two other ABDL Romance series:

Zeke and Lily: Once Upon a BeginningThe Mia Series - Book One.

The Zeke & Lily Saga

The Mia Series

 

5 responses to “The One

  1. Pingback: The One – Part 2 of 3 | zorrodaddy.com

  2. Pingback: … and it continues in Allentown, PA | zorrodaddy.com

  3. Pingback: The One – Part 3 of 3 | zorrodaddy.com

  4. Pingback: Country Rose 3 | zorrodaddy.com

  5. Pingback: The Country Rose Series | zorrodaddy.com

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