#ghots

Luckily, the boys from the 141 kept a close eye on her. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

Every time she made the slightest sound—a groan of discomfort when the baby kicked her ribs, or a sigh of relief when she finally found a comfortable position—Johnny would appear out of nowhere, wearing gloves and a surgical mask he’d swiped from the infirmary.

"Is it time, Bonnie? Is it happening now?" he’d ask, dropping to his knees, lifting her skirt, and diving right into her clothes, as if the baby were about to slide out and only he could catch it.

The upside was that Johnny would at least apologize graciously, planting a hundred kisses against the secretary's pussy.

Kyle, on the other hand, focused on making this difficult phase as pleasant as possible. He’d bought a stash of various creams, sorted by body part: one for foot massages, another for her lower back, and a third to moisturize her big, round belly—lovingly kissing every stretch mark along the way. Whenever he massaged her, the baby would react instantly, kicking at his hands and shifting around as if trying to get closer to Kyle. He always spoke in a low, calm voice, talking to her belly to ensure the baby would know his sweet voice well. And finally, he would bring out a special cream used to massage his secretary’s perineum, claiming it would aid in labor and relieve some of the aches.

He was right—it certainly helped… It helped even more when Kyle made her come with his skillful fingers.

As for Simon? He took it upon himself to get the secretary’s apartment ready. He bought baby clothes by the heap—bottles, diapers, wipes, cribs, car seats, changing tables, and mountains of toys. Every day when she got home, a mountain of new gifts would be waiting, alongside a fridge stocked with food and a closet full of jewelry and clothes he had bought her. After all, he had money to burn and loved seeing his secretary wearing the outfits he picked out.

Of course, it was a bit unnerving at first, since she had never brought either of them to her home—let alone mentioned where she lived, much less given them keys to come and go as they pleased. But then again, she figured breaking into an apartment probably wasn't that hard for men like them.

Many nights, she would wake up to Simon fucking her from behind, one hand pressed flat against her belly while the other circled her clitoris in a way that made her eyes roll back in her head. Who cared about a little invasion, when he took such good care of her?

And finally, there was John. He was the one who kept the closest watch on her. He wouldn't let her lift a finger—not even to eat.

Did she want onion-flavored chips with a chocolate coating? John was already placing them against her lips. An ice cream sandwich with chili peppers? There it was: cold, spicy, and crunchy against her lips.

But it didn't stop there. John would do anything for his secretary. Were her breasts sore? Too full, and the breast pump too far away? John’s lips were right there, sucking and drinking that wonderful milk.

Was she feeling empty? Easy—she just had to sit on Price, keeping his cock nice and warm deep inside her, banishing that hollow feeling within.