Their Secret: An MMF Secret Baby Romance

by Cassandra Dee

All these things tumbled through my head as he owned me. My heavy breasts dangled down to the cold floor, nipples shoving into the cool tile with each fuck of his penis inside me, making me cry out with pleasure.

  A rolling heat of lust and fulfillment finally knocked me down. I came again, and again, unable to control myself, breasts flying wildly as he pushed into my butt. Mason kept going, curses dripping from his lips with every ram inside me.

  “I'm gonna come,” he growled. “I'm gonna come and bust my nut all over your back, baby.”

  “Yes! Yes!” I shoved back into him, encouraging him to come on me while my whole body trembled from another orgasmic aftershock. “Do it, Mason! Come all over me! Give it to me!”

  He shouted out at the same time that he jerked his penis out. And I felt the now familiar hot splash over my back, over my butt, and down my shoulders while he gripped my hip with one hand and shuddered, like he was caught in the middle of some crazy storm.

  It was a long time before he stopped shaking.

  “God fucking damn...” He breathed out the words, sounding amazed at the same moment my arms gave out. I dropped to the tiles flat on my stomach, complete done for, my entire body trembling and weak, the breath shivering uncontrollably my chest.

  And Mason rolled me back against him, his hot breath gusting against my back. I felt his come between us, coating my skin and his. It should have felt dirty and disgusting, but all I felt was fulfilled. Yes, it was right to have his semen all over my body, inside and out.

  “Fuck, this tile isn't good for our knees, baby doll,” Mason rasped from behind. He latched his arm around my stomach and rolled us both onto our backs. My legs dropped open and I was grateful for the blast of cool air from his A/C that blew between my thighs.

  “You okay, baby?”

  “Yes.” And I couldn't stop smiling. If this was just casual sex, being in a real relationship with a guy must be damn amazing. I sat up and my mouth opened to share that realization with him, but at the last second I decided to keep it to myself. I didn't want to ruin anything between us, not so soon. And I didn't want to scare him away.

  I shoved my hair out of my eyes and looked down at him, his tattooed and muscled chest gleaming with sweat, dick still hard and glistening.

  “I think I need another shower,” I giggled.

  Laughter exploded from his lips. “Yeah. I think so.” I shivered when he ran his hand through my hair. “But this time, I think we should take one together. What do you think?”

  I may have been a virgin up until just last night, but I knew a damn sexy idea when I heard one.

  “I think that’s great.” Feeling bold, I dipped my head to kiss him.

  Holy shit. That was a mistake because this wasn’t some casual brush of our lips. It was a real kiss, moving me to the tips of my toes, making me see stars. My mind whirled, the earth literally shifting beneath me. What was happening? Why was this happening?

  And who kisses like this in a casual relationship? I was confused, lost, and at the same time, I didn’t care. Because all I knew was that I needed more of the SEAL … as much of him as he’ll give, for as long as he’s available.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mason

  Two weeks later …

  We were on an island someplace, who the fuck knows where. It didn’t really matter anyways. All that mattered was that although Sara wasn’t physically there, she was still with me.

  Me and the other lucky SEAL bastards were doing sit-ups in the surf. The early morning sun burned my freshly shaved head, beating down on my face and searing my skin through the thin t-shirt I wore.

  The surf was cold. It splashed up over my face, neck and shoulders, the fine, black sand grinding into my shoulders and neck as I powered through my sit-ups with the dozen or so other guys. Piece of cake, assholes. Shit I'd done in training with the other SEALs hundreds of times. They were just warming us up for the hard shit.

  Which was probably why I couldn't get Sara out of my mind. The brunette on her knees in front of me. Her eyes wide and startled as she came, stuck tight my dick. Sara laughing with me across the dining table. Sara everything, everywhere, all the time. Clearly, the training wasn't pushing me hard enough. Not yet.

  “All right! Up!” The instructor, dressed like us in camo pants and a white T-shirt, barked at us from ten feet away. “Grab your packs!”

  The even row of men lying on their backs with me in a line on the beach jumped up and staggered toward the heavy-looking camo backpacks spread out on the sand just behind the instructor. Up ahead and just past the packs, the jungle began abruptly, the water, beach, and sand a few quick steps to the tangle of heat and screeching monkeys, spiders ready to bite your testicles. Oh yeah, did you know that there are insects that specialize in getting you in your private spots? Believe it, it’s fucking painful when it happens, even more awful when you piss.

  Like I said, the sit-ups were a warm-up, nothing else. Now onto the real shit.

  I raced up the beach, body still loose and ready, breathing easy, and grabbed the forty-pound pack, heaving it on my back before plunging into the jungle. Her face swam in an image before my once more, but I forced those sweet lips from my mind. It was time to focus.

  Ten hours later, and we were done. I dropped down, exhausted, in the bootleg cafeteria in the middle of nowhere with scratches from branches and other shit up and down my arms. Around me, the guys were laughing and joking around, and I managed to join their conversation, but fuck, she was still on my mind. A tray rattled down on the table in front of me as a big dude, swollen with muscle and wearing an easy smile, dropped onto the other side of the state park-style bench. Looking at him, you’d never think he was the team medic.

  “Yo, Mason.”

  “Sup, Harris?” Trying not to choke on the bland food, I took a bite of the gray meat at the other end of my fork and nodded at my buddy.

  “What's up with you, brother?” Harris pretty much inhaled his broccoli, the whole vegetable disappearing into his mouth like a freaky Houdini act. Damn this guy could eat. “I see you slacking out there,” he said.

  “Fuck you,” I grunted, not even looking up. “Fuck you.”

  “Naw, it’s true,” drawled Harris. “Normally, you'd be the first or second one done and waiting for the rest of us, and barely breathing hard at that. But you're downright average today,” he said, picking at those yellowed teeth.

  Around me, I could hear the comments from the peanut gallery, agreements coming our way although the other guys hadn't been invited into the fucking conversation.

  “You can tell us,” Harris whispered loudly, leaning forward like we were a bunch of junior high school girls. “Is it a chick?”

  More laughter came and Harris sat back, looking pleased, inhaling more broccoli. Man, fuck these guys.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I grunted, more annoyed than anything. “What the fuck, man?”

  “He's just joking, dude!” somebody nearby said. It was Lewis, a happily married guy who didn’t see a thing wrong with having a woman, a damn wife even, at the same time as this job of ours.

  But Harris wasn't the least bit bothered, inhaling mashed potatoes this time.

  “Chill out, Mason. If you're hung up on a chick, no worries. In fact, tell us about her pussy,” he invited with a shit-eating grin. “Tell us how sweet it is.”

  I saw red, but before I could say anything, Lewis barged in again.

  “Cool off, Harris,” Lewis grunted. Like Harris, Lewis was a big dude. Six feet six with hammers for fists. But he loved his wife like he loved air and wasn’t ashamed to let anyone know it. “Chill the fuck out. Can’t you see Mason’s got his dick in a knot? Seriously shut the fuck up.”

  And to my surprise, Harris did. Or maybe it was because he was choking on his food now, bits of steak erupting from his nose and mouth as he hacked away. Fuck him. Like I was gonna do the Heimlich and save his life. Let him die, whatevs.

  But an hour later, I couldn't forget what Harris
said. After nearly a week into my two-week training with these guys, I was letting my obsession with Sara show. Fuck. I couldn't keep that up. That wasn't me. It had never been me. I don’t let girls get to me.

  But with Sara, things were clearly different. Harris had only pointed out the obvious, that I was fucking distracted, thinking about that sweet pussy and big boobies all the time. And frankly, he had a right to point it out because we’re warriors putting everything on the line. One moment of distraction and bam! You’re nuthin’ but blood and guts on the sand.

  So shit, I had to get it together. Grunting, I shook my head, the hard-packed sand firm under my boots. Stalking away from the other guys, one look back confirmed that I hadn't gone too far. Training was about keeping us on our toes, preparing for the unexpected and I wouldn’t put it past the instructors to jump on us after dinner with some other tortuous practice event. That was what we were here for, after all. To be prepared for anything. I grunted again, pushing a hand through my buzz cut.

  The night was dark in the jungle and miles away from anything else. The stars were as bright as fuck and I forced myself to mentally review key skills. How to load a gun. How to dismantle one in the dark of night, blindfolded with a gag in your mouth. Or how to put together an IED with a fucking match and some glue, MacGyver skills to the max. War is fucking real and you learn this shit quick.

  But it was useless because instead of thinking about blood, guts, and glory, I was stuck on Sara. Again. It was something about the way she looked at me, the sparkle in this deep brown eyes, the shy smile that escaped her lips sometimes. Dick twitching involuntarily, I shook my head with frustration.

  Fuck me. I must be losing it. Why the hell was this happening? My mind spun involuntarily, hopping from this to that.

  Because when my folks died, that was some hard shit. It didn’t help that foster care had been its own kind of hell and left me with a fuck ton of emotional issues. I’d tried to fix that shit with the help of a few shrinks, but none of them did any good.

  “You all right, man?” Harris materialized out of the shadows. He looked a little nervous, stepping from foot to foot.

  “Yeah, I'm good.”

  The sound of the surf filled the silence a long time before he spoke.

  “You know I was just kidding back there, right? I never doubted that you’re doing your job well. You always get shit done, and usually quicker and better than most of us.”

  Usually. But not for the past week.

  “If you’ve got a chick on your mind, then whatevs,” he tossed out carelessly. “Life goes on.”

  Harris was one of those enlightened ass dudes. In touch with his feelings and all that crap. He was cool with everything from chicks joining up to the three-year stints. Figures he would be here to apologize for busting my balls when he had every right to.

  “You don't have to say all that shit, Harris. It's cool. Seriously.”

  “Well, I just want to be clear because you seemed a little upset earlier.”

  “I'm cool,” I said coldly this time. “Probably was just tired from today.” Which was a crock of bull and he and I both knew it. What we'd been through today was a walk in the park with ice cream compared to our previous tours.

  “All right,” Harris said, slow and easy. “As long as we're good.” He slapped me hard on the back then, and after a searching look at my face went back to where he'd come from. I released a huge breath of relief once he stepped away.

  I couldn’t believe I'd let myself get so wrapped up in Sara that my buddies were worried. They were clearly alarmed that their lives were gonna be in danger with me mooning about a woman. Shit, this was fucking unprofessional. I growled, shaking my head with frustration, angry as fuck about the distraction.

  But my subconscious didn’t give a damn. Just like every other night, I dreamed about Sara.

  “Mason, come on,” the dream Sara called out to me. “Come on,” she beckoned.

  And when I looked down, we were holding hands, her small palm clasped in my large fist. We were also walking on a beach that looked a lot like the one we were doing sit-ups on today. But instead of grueling surf and a dozen sweating and grunting men, the air smelled like flowers, like Sara’s sweet perfume. Her palm was soft in my hand and the girl tugged me forwards, her smile teasing and wide. Moonlight shimmered over the glowing skin of her breasts, showing off the white of her shoulders, as her white dress fluttered. Shit this dream was so real that I got hard just looking at her.

  But this time it was different. Because yeah, I was hard, but it wasn't the usual kind of thing. I didn't want to just throw her down on the sand and jackhammer away between her legs like a machine. Instead, I wanted to bring her somewhere safe and dry and love that body until she screamed, until she creamed hard, jerking like a marionette on my dick. And then I’d do it all over again, and again, and again.

  “It's just up there,” came that soft voice, interrupting my thoughts. Sara pulled on my hand, still smiling.

  “Up there” turned out to be a giant mattress just sitting on the beach. Thin white cloth covered it, fluttering in the breeze. Shit, were we in some Fabio commercial? This was fucking weird.

  But hey, it was a dream. The smell of Sara’s perfume grew stronger the closer we got to the bed, and the pike in my pants got harder too. Suddenly, who the fuck cared if this was some Fabio commercial? Because I wanted to fuck.

  “Sara...” I gripped her hand tight and grunted her name like I was desperate.

  Shit, I was desperate. Dream or not, in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to push her down in that bed, shove her thighs apart, and plow my tongue into her pussy to get her nice and wet, before burying my dick inside. And I did just that. In no time, the brunette was under me, panting and crying out my name the way she always does in real life, ankles locked behind my back, my cock buried deep, balls painfully tight.

  “Come, baby,” she said and raked her nails over my ass cheeks.

  I exploded.

  Then woke up to my own stifled grunts of pleasure. Awww fuck, really? I'd jizzed all over myself, hand sticky with warm wet ooze.

  But it was completely worth it because dreams are all I have of Sara lately. Here in the brutal jungle, her sweet face and that tinkling laugh were all I had to keep me moving forward. Shit, I was a fucking goner, even worse than I thought.

  Looking around, I snuck a glance at the other bunks. Thank fuck the guys seemed to be out like logs, a couple snoring up a storm.

  But even if I was okay this time, I couldn't keep doing this with my dream girl. Sara was a distraction, and the guys had already noticed and commented, anxious about their safety. It was life and death for us, foot soldiers in thing in this fucked-up thing called war. And if I wanted to live, if I wanted to do my duty by my nation and keep my brothers alive, then Sara had to go. There were no two ifs, ands, or buts about it. The brunette was a distraction, nothing more, and the sooner I forgot her, the better.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sara

  Mason was back today.

  It had been two long weeks and I couldn't wait to see him. I’d done all sorts of things to keep myself distracted. Focusing on classes. Catching up with friends I hadn’t seen since starting up with Mason. Actually trying to learn to swim.

  Because before he left, he’d teased me.

  “You ever gonna put on that suit again?”

  I’d pouted, sticking out my tongue.

  “I have to, you know that. It’s a school requirement otherwise I can’t graduate.”

  Mason’s eyes gleamed.

  “Well let me know if you need another lesson,” he growled, the tent at his crotch already getting big. “Good things lead to good times.”

  And I couldn’t help but laugh because that’s how this whole thing started. A session with a hot lifeguard turned into a relationship with a SEAL, and I was over the moon.

  Except, oh wait, it’s not a relationship. He was clear at the beginning that this was not
hing but a hook-up, but still, it definitely feels like a relationship. Because Mason’s really sweet to me, holding open doors, always paying, and showing me that he cares in ways both big and small. And oh god, but the heat between the sheets is unreal, I can’t seem to fall asleep without him deep inside now, stroking my inner channel. So yeah, I was dying to see him after our two week hiatus, my body quivering and hot, ready for action.

  Taking a deep breath, I smoothed down my skirt and turned this way and that in front of the mirror, scrutinizing how the blouse hugged my breasts. Oh yeah, they were huge, full and bouncy. Twirling a little, the soft black skirt moved around my thighs, making me giggle a little. What would Mason do when he found out I was panty-less? Because I was desperate for him and had decided to go bare and free, the wind wafting between my heated pussy lips. Oh god, the drip was already beginning, an unmistakable wetness between my legs. I needed him bad.

  Beep beep!

  The alarm on my phone went off and I fumbled at the device. Time to call a cab and with clumsy fingers, I scrolled to Yellow Super Taxi, our local outfit.

  It was a little weird for sure. The day he left, Mason told me that he would pick me up from the dorms and bring me to his house for dinner. But when he got back yesterday, the SEAL texted again, directing me to find my own ride. Really? That seemed unnecessary for a girl who was a sure thing. Surely he could hop in his car and make the fifteen minute drive.

  But maybe he was just tired from training, they work you like a mule at these camps. So I ignored the warning bell in my head and forced myself to let it go.

  But now, with the time for our dinner coming closer, doubts went off like little bombs in my mind. Why can’t he pick you up? The voice screamed. Telling a girl to grab a cab is what you do for hook-ups, not relationships.

  But my inner self wouldn’t give in. Stop, my other self commanded. Seriously, just stop Sara, don’t overthink it. The guy just got back from two weeks of hell, who cares if he doesn’t want to pick you up? What matters is that Mason’s back.