Page 26 of Dubious Secrets

“I can’t be here right now.”

I nod. “Let me at least get you a hotel.”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m going to go to a friend’s…and I just need some space, okay? Please tell Stassie to give me some space.”

“I will, but Mary?—”

She holds up her hand. “Please, I don’t want to hear it.”

Giving her the space she wants, I walk back into Stassie’s room, finding her curled into a fetal position in her bed, her face pressed into a pillow as her shoulders rack with sobs. I shut the door and climb into bed with her, wrapping my arm around her.

“Shhh. It’s going to be okay. Try to calm down, baby,” I whisper into her hair, pulling the pillow away from her face.

She sniffs and hiccups, wiping at her eyes and nose with her blanket. “She hates me.”

I hold her tighter. “We knew it was going to be difficult at first, but she’ll come around.”

Stassie shakes her head, trembling in my arms. “No, I don’t think she will. She’s never been cruel like that before.”

I rest my forehead on her shoulder. “We can only wait and see. I know it hurts, baby, but you gotta try to calm down a bit. I’m going to turn on your noise machine and put some oils in the diffuser. Let’s see if we can get some sleep.”

She sniffles louder. “Is she leaving?”

“Yeah, she is.”

A choked noise gurgles at the back of her throat. “I don’t want to go back in that room.”

My heart twists, but I nod. “Then we won’t. We’ll stay here, okay?”

Stassie doesn’t say anything, so I gingerly climb off the bed and finish her night routine before cuddling back into her. After twenty minutes of quiet weeping, her breathing evens out and I know she’s sleeping. Ten minutes after that, I listen as something heavy is dragged across the floor, and then I hear the click of the apartment door closing. The tension drains from my body and I shut my eyes, resting my face in the crook of Stassie’s neck and hoping for the future we both clearly want.

Stassie’s tits are so large my hands struggle to contain them. Her nails dig into my chest as I pump into her wet, dripping pussy from below. My heels sink into the mattress so I thrust my hips, filling her over and over, pounding her with my cock. At first, I’d been worried about being too rough, but the doctor assured me it's fine, which is a relief because my girl is insatiable. Her eyes drift to the nightstand, and I know she wants me to stuff her with her dildo, but we don’t have time. My parents are throwing us a small baby shower and we’re going to be late, but her anxiety was too much to let her go without wringing out some orgasms.

She whimpers. “Please?—”

“When we get back, I promise. I need you to come on my cock, baby.” I let go of her tits to slide down and cradle her large belly. We’re about eight weeks away from birth, and Stassie has never looked so beautiful. “Seeing you like this, swollen with my baby, still desperate for my cock, I fucking can’t get enough. Give me your juices, pretty girl. I need you to drench me.”

She cries out, her pussy clamping down and squeezing me. I grunt, trying to fuck her through it but god damn, her channel is like heaven.

“Where do you want my cum, baby? Inside or on you?”

“Inside, please,” she begs.

I thrust a few more times and then let go, feeling my cock swell and sputter as I paint her walls with my cum. I rub her sides as we come down from our highs before climbing off the bed and carrying her to the bathroom. She moves to the shower and turns on the water before opening her legs so I can watch my cum drip out, and then she pees.

I shudder and my cock twitches but I will myself not to react. My mom will be upset if we’re later than we already are.

“I wish I had the time to wash your body and hair like usual, but we got to go,” I tell her, frowning with genuine disappointment. I love exploring every inch of her, touching all I can.

She smiles. “It’s okay. Later? After the thing you promised?”

I shake my head with a grin. “Of course.”

We go through the motions, washing off quickly before I get dressed and leave her to do her hair and makeup while I head into the kitchen. Wrapping up a few of her snacks, I pack them in the backpack we’ve started to carry around.

I grab her flavored water in her oversized steel cup, glad it at least has a handle, and head back to our room.

“Almost ready?” I ask, leaning on the doorframe. I catch a flicker of a sad expression in the mirror before it’s wiped clean and she nods, putting on some lipgloss and then standing from the vanity.

---