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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 usingSweet 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 Ihavefound 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.
Dirty? Yes. Hedonistic? Absolutely. Filthy beyond belief? You betcha. But right now, it’s my best solution. What other options do I have? I don’t want to call any of my exes, because they’re kind of losers. I don’t want to go on-line because I don’t think many guys would be into dating pregnant women. And most of all, I don’t want a relationship. I made a decision when I got pregnant that I was going to do this on my own. As a result, I’m not looking for a boyfriend, babydaddy, or anything like that. I’m looking for a man to give me a deep backdoor drill to help me through the nausea, and then thank you, goodnight. They’ve done their job, and I just want them to leave without any cuddles, kisses, or romance.
So yes, I’m a filthy whore. I get it. I’m using men for their bodies, but the thing is that it’s really fun! It makes me feel so good and I love being a naughty girl. Besides, I’m not hurting anyone, and I’m treating this as a “lost period” in my life. After Valley Cryo closed its doors, I decided not to look for another job immediately. Instead, I’m just puttering about my home, taking care of myself while waiting for the baby, so there’s no one keeping tabs on me. What I do in my free time is up to me, and I like it that way.
But right. The party. A slight twinge of nausea makes the vomit rise in the back of my throat and I swallow hard. I can tell it’s going to get worse as the night progresses, so what I need to do is to dress sexy so that I can get my needs taken care of asap when I arrive at the location they’ve texted.
But what to wear? I flip through my lingerie drawer, and finally settle on a purple bra with matching cheeky panties. The bra is basically two postage stamps that cover my nipples, finished with straps that criss cross above my big belly. The sides and bottoms of my creamy tits hang out, begging to be stroked and I giggle while putting it on.
Then I slide into a matching purple thong which basically only covers my clit because it’s so small. I turn to check myself out and giggle at the sight. Oh yeah, the string in back is buried dirtily between my big cheeks. Stepping into my purple stilettos, I bend over with my back to the mirror before pulling my buttocks apart with my hands. Oh yes. My asshole isn’t really covered by the string at all. Instead, the purple line just bisects it, showing off the pink pleats spread on either side, and I giggle again while winking the hole at the mirror. I hope the men at the Circle like what they see because I need something in there sooner rather than later, and I need it bad.
With one last toss of my curls over a shoulder, I grab my trench coat, my purse, and a couple of sex toys, just in case. Then I stride out my door and get into the car, punching in the location on my GPS. The machine beeps and I smile saucily. This is going to be fun and I can’t wait.
2
Freya
Istep onto the wraparound front porch, wobbling precariously in my high heels. Goodness, the Circle certainly selected a different type of venue tonight. The mansion I’m about to enter looks like it was built in the Victorian era with turrets, narrow windows, and gables that droop. The porch itself encircles the entire house, and of course, all the windows are blacked out, although I can hear the tinny sound of music coming from inside.
After knocking, a slot in the door appears and an eye peers out. No one says anything. Instead, I merely look at the green-blue eye as it stares back at me before swiveling to the right and then to the left, as if to make sure I’m alone. The entire effect is a bit creepy.
“Um, green beans?” I ask. “Or maybe green bean, singular? Oh shit, I can’t remember. Here, let me check my phone again.”
But then, the slot slides closed with a thump and the door swings open. A woman stands there, she of the green-blue eye. She’s gorgeous with black hair swept into an updo, and a tiny black cocktail dress that bedecks her curves.
“You’re in,” she says. “Welcome to the Circle.”
I nod, stepping into the house.
“Thanks.”
The door swings shut behind me, and I make my way down a long hallway covered with an exquisite runner made of red and brown wool. Then, I turn left, where the music’s coming from, and sure enough, this is the location of the party.
