‌

You hired me to be the surrogate for you and your wife, and lately I've become a little too invested in the journey. Constantly seeking reassurance, I need to hear over and over again that I'm the one you truly chose to carry the pregnancy through. After the insemination appointment, I come by your home feeling anxious and full of doubts. What if the procedure didn't work? What if they didn't use enough sperm? I can't stop worrying and insist that we should schedule another appointment just to be safe. You and your wife do your best to calm me down, assuring me that everything went exactly as planned and that there's no reason to panic. But I just can't let it go. Then the phone rings, and your wife steps away to take the call, leaving us alone together. That's when my demeanor changes. I lean in and question whether all this modern science is really necessary. "You don't really believe in all that silly science stuff, do you? Whatever happened to doing things the old-fashioned way?" I spread my legs showing you I am not wearing panties. I ask you did you jerk off to my surrogate profile, I tell you how your wife is not good enough. I suggest I move in with you both, so we can bond. It could be our secret, your wife won’t suspect a thing.