 by S.E. Law.jpg)
Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
But one day, I’m gardening and a wave of pain comes out of nowhere …
Agony rips me apart and I squirm on the ground while clutching my belly…
When my handsome neighbor appears, ready for the rescue!
Mark Fierceton is a gorgeous fireman with a bronzed chest, rippling abs, and blue eyes that see EVERYTHING. He asks what to do and I end up blurting my awful secret: I need it deep in my backside to help with the crippling pains.
But instead of being shocked, Mark is *totally* into it.
Soon, the handsome alpha male is helping me through my pregnancy nausea every morning, afternoon, and night, making me cry out with fierce pleasure.
But this isn’t a relationship because I’m not ready. I have enough on my plate, and my neighbor doesn’t need the baggage that comes with dating an unemployed single mom-to-be. But what if the alpha male wants me regardless? What do I do with our impossible situation after the baby is born?
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1
Freya
* * *
My phone beeps and I glance down.
Passcode: Green beans
My eyebrows go up because for a secret sex club, that doesn’t seem like much of a passcode. I though they would use words like “dominate,” “submission,” or at the very least, “alpha,” but instead, the passwords have been things like “fluffy,” “banana” and my favorite: “marshmallow.” Where are they getting this? Who’s thinking up these ridiculous passcodes? To be honest, it kind of spoils the mood because secret sex clubs are supposed to be just that: sexy. But instead, we’re using Sweet Valley High-type code words.
But I roll my eyes and toss my phone down before turning back to the closet. The party’s tonight and I’ve got to find something to wear stat, silly password or not! I flick on the light within my closet, and frown. Dang. I don’t have enough skanky stuff, which means I’ll have to make a trip to La Rouge sometime to pick up more lacy lingerie, not to mention crotchless panties and nipple-baring bras. Those are my favorites, and I love prancing around in silk and lace that show off everything.
But the problem is that I’m pregnant now, so I don’t want to spend too much on lingerie that might only be worn a few times. I glance down ruefully at my big belly. She’s not enormous yet, I think with a smile. Just medium-sized, which is perfect for the second-trimester.
After all, I’m a single mom-to-be. My last job was as a receptionist at a sperm bank called Valley Cryo. They were shut down by regulators, but when word came that that was going to happen, I jumped on the opportunity to be artificially inseminated. I know. It’s so crazy that even sperm banks have “fire sales” of sorts, but that’s what happened. I was able to get the procedure done at half price, and then with my employee discount on top of that, it ended up almost free.
But it’s good because I’ve always wanted to be a mother. Even though I’m only twenty-two, there’s no sense in waiting. I think the worst mistake is when ladies focus on their careers for too long. You wouldn’t believe how many women who are forty plus walk through the doors of Valley Cryo with hope on their faces. But then, I’d observe them over the course of the next year, their expressions growing more somber with each visit.
After all, society has changed a great deal. Women are valued employees, and are fully expected to climb the corporate ladder these days. But the problem is that biology hasn’t caught up with that. From my job, I know that a woman’s most fertile years are in her early twenties, and as I result, I didn’t want to wait. When the opportunity to be inseminated came, I took it.
As a result, my baby will be joining us soon. Everyone I know was surprised about the pregnancy, but they’re generally happy for me too. After all, I’ve made it clear since I was about five years old for my desire to be a mother, so the fact that it’s finally happening for me is really exciting and wonderful.
The only downside is the nausea. I know that every woman has a different experience with this. Some ladies are perfectly fine throughout their entire pregnancies, whereas others, like myself, suffer. Bad, in my case too. I generally wake up feeling awful, and run to the toilet to upchuck. Then, I nibble on some crackers and ginger ale, which helps a little, but not a lot. Basically, the cycle repeats for the remainder of the day and it’s really unpleasant. I need to be within twenty feet of a toilet at all times, just in case the need to vomit strikes once more.
But I have found a solution that works for a little while at least: anal sex. I know it’s surprising, but something about backdoor orgasms helps my body relax a bit, and after having anal sex I’m usually able to function like a normal person for half a day. It’s wonderful, but the problem is: where am I going to get my backdoor love from? After all, I’m a single mother and so I don’t exactly have a partner available to put it in whenever the nausea strikes.
But that’s where the Circle comes in. They’re the secret organization that puts together these clandestine parties, and I try to go to as many events as I can. Of course, the events are generally at night, so it doesn’t help much when the nausea strikes in the mornings, but the good part about Circle events is that people are very accepting, and anything can happen. As a result, when I show up obviously pregnant and requesting backdoor love, no one blinks an eye. In fact, there are usually plenty of men happy to help, and I often have anal sex with multiple partners over the course of the party.