Baby Momma (commission, vanilla, vaginal, oral, spit-in-mouth, adultery.)

“Hey, Baby Momma.” A familiar voice came across the close-to-private studio Frankie called her own, a makeshift cubicle made from curtains in the conference room of a tropical hotel their crew had more or less taken over for an episode of their show.

“Tsch,” Frankie clicked, she never like that name, Baby Momma, however it was the very same one that brought her-her world of success, her break out hit, her very own show. She of course, was not a Baby Momma herself, but she did play one on primetime television! The show ran on a great timeslot on Thursday evenings, it was watched the nation over and only getting more popular as time went on.

Baby Momma was a hit, it outlined Frankie’s character Milly, and her daughter Kate’s strained but ultimately wholesome relationship. Frankie, or Milly more specifically was a middling single mother with an unstable career path and poor luck. The show involved her working several odd jobs through a staffing agency, now in their second season, the gigs seemed to change weekly and their attempt at capturing a new audience came with an influencer being cast for Frankie’s contact at the staffing agency.

When they renewed Frankie for a second season, her life seemed to be assured. She spent her off season with her younger beau, an engineering student who had more than well off parents, Parker, they enjoyed themselves for the summer, trips and avoiding paparazzi, life truly was a dream most days. Most days.
–then the second season started off differently.

While she was still very much the star of the show, a new addition to the cast made things particularly difficult, near untenable on set at points. “Frankie don’t tell me you’re still sour about Marcus.” –the offender in question. Her agent, Jillian, had been trying to assuage her this was all temporary, but it was hard to believe that when he rubbed her so supremely wrong! “You’re going to have to learn to work with people you don’t like in this business, Frankie.” Jillian reminded her sternly.

It was beyond someone she didn’t like though, wasn’t it? –Marcus was an absolute ass of a person! “Learn to work with Satan spawn, got it.” Frankie grumbled, looking at herself in her mirror in the little curtained room. Her agent, understanding immediately a simple dismissive statement wouldn’t make this better, maybe she’d come at this from the wrong angle.

Jillian crossed the room and sat across from her star, leaning against the counter she was using to prop up her mirror and give makeup workspace. “What is going on, Frankie?” Jillian asked, crossing her arms under her chest, framing her petite bust. Jillian was blonde, in great shape and in many ways rivaled even Frankie in beauty – for being quite a bit older and a little more worked on, so to speak. She was Frankie’s friend, agent, and mentor. Frankie trusted her.

Frankie looked her in the face before starting, “Marcus is a raging hard on, he has no right acting. . . hff! -acting.” He was not an artiste or actor, that was for sure. “You know he’s cat called me three times on set?” She was getting worked up just talking about it. “He can act his way across the room, I’ll give him that, but the guy belongs on YouTube ads and commercials! Not prime time TV!” Frankie reasoned with Jillian exacerbated, as if Jillian could change a thing. As if she didn’t at least somewhat agree, she didn’t.

“Listen Frankie, the kid can act, he may not have any right acting like the shitbag he does but he’s here and you’re going to have to learn to live with it.” People said the same thing about Frankie last year, that she didn’t have the chops for primetime television or a leading role out of the gate, that Baby Momma would never be a hit.

“Why, is he here? -we’re halfway across the country shooting a damn flashback, why does he have to be here for it?

Jillian shrugged, she had to assume Marcus pulled some strings for that deal, honestly. –but they’d filmed several promo reels with the crew in beach gear, Marcus wasn’t the only person not involved in the flashback they’d come here to shoot who’d been invited to join for the shoot. It was a few unfortunate circumstances and choices leveling up to feel slanted against her client, she understood that. But Jillian did feel Frankie was being unreasonable to a degree. It was something she’d have to live with. Sidelining the conversation, she moved on to asking, “How’s Parker?”

“Parker is pissed.” She stated, blunt as a mallet to the side of the head and no less force involved.

“What? How are you both knotted?” Jillian spread her eyes in surprise, Frankie, her youngest, her protégé, her diva, was always so full of drama. “What’s he on about now?” the conversation turning to the engineering student she’d invested her heart in.

“He’s jealous.”

“Of Marcus?” asked Jillian.

“Of Marcus, of me being on location in tropic paradise, of. . . of all of it. He’s feeling burnt out from school, it’ll pass.” She defended him just as much as she damned him, she was upset and didn’t think it was fair for Parker to also, be upset, “He followed Marcus before all this.” She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He’s insecure, said Marcus is ‘hotter than him,’” rolling her eyes she looked on to Jillian as if to disagree, she didn’t get the reassurance that she did.

To be fair, Marcus was very attractive, he was very fit, tall, with curly chestnut hair and striking green eyes. . . While he was egotistical and crude at times, this came with a confidence Frankie found infectious and far from in the good way. He turned heads when he walked into a room, how else would he have hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, watching his every move before all this. Maybe that was why Frankie was jealous too because Marcus was famous on his own, she was famous because she was ‘Baby Momma.’

“You know he asked me out on a date, our first week of filming?” she blurted out.

Jillian grinned, “I take it you turned him down.” Ruefully teasing her client, Frankie.

“I have a boyfriend, -besides, he’s just a kid.” Frankie dismissed her.

“Yes, and Parker is. . .” also a kid.

Frankie stared daggers at her agent, daring her to say it. -the older woman did not. “Tell me you don’t have a thing for younger men, no shade!” Jillian teased, “All I’m saying is, it’s not as bad as you’re making it for yourself. We’re five episodes into the season, chill, he’s a flash in the pan – you’re a star and you’re going to look back on this as something to grow from some day. Promise-promise.” Jillian assured her, squeezing the brunette’s shoulder and giving her a look of reassurance.

Frankie sighed and agreed, “I know, I know, I’m just venting.”
“Maybe you two should talk that out, he’s a kid. You’re right, so just, lay down some maturity on him. Tell him you’re not OK with that, you don’t need me to fight this battle for you Frankie. If you don’t want some snotnosed kid hitting on you, shut him down.” Encouraging her client, Jillian tried to turn it around for her, give her the opportunity to empower herself, Frankie broke out of her death stare and sighed.

“You’re probably right,” running a hand over her face, through her hair, she looked herself in the mirror one last time before standing. Shooting was over for the day, and she intended to spend the rest of the evening in her room now that her makeup was off, and she’d changed out of the clothing she’d been wearing on camera today.
Jillian gave her a hug and a slanted smile, “You’re going to be fine Frankie, do not let that kid in your head.” She knew Frankie could get distracted, could get emotional, could get ornery and difficult too; she didn’t want that, she didn’t want any of that for her client or for the cast and crew. She wanted things to keep moving on as they had to this point, she wanted things to remain as they had so they could all keep raking in dough hand over fist, even Marcus.

Leaving the small makeshift studio the two women parted ways in the hotel lobby with a hug and another pep talk, Jillian reiterated her feelings that this was all just temporary and Marcus was not worth letting under her skin, she offered to speak to the director on her behalf about his advances but Frankie felt confident she could handle them herself next time. All in all, Frankie did feel assured, did feel like she’d been worried about more than she really needed to be.

It was at that time she decided to check her chat with Parker, riding up to her room solo in the elevator. Having been on set all day her phone was on do not disturb, if anyone had a true emergency, they could get through to her via Jillian.

19 new messages, 6 missed calls.

Frankie looked surprised by the amount of traffic she’d avoided. The phone screen’s first preview of the last message sent made her eyes hammer open and her mouth hang ajar.

YOU FUCKED MARCUS?!

Her heart began to hammer, her palms getting sweaty, pins and pricks of nerves and anger rippled up from the back of her knees to her rear, along the small of her back and eventually up her neck, over her scalp, every hair follicle burning with raw, unchecked rage. “What?!” she shrieked out loud, slamming one of her palms into the side of the elevator as she opened the chat with Parker, Parker who was presently accusing her of cheating with Marcus.

Before taking the time to respond, Frankie read through the fountain of texts that had came across her phone this afternoon.

It all started with the typical, hey, how are you? Text, Parker knew better than to expect an immediate answer, but soon we need to talk and other such indicators of upset flew passed her screen. They soon turned to how could you? And did you really? She squinted at several screenshots, ready to chuck her phone into the wall as the elevator pinged and the doors slid open before her.

In stark, bold letters on Instagram dark mode text was a DM conversation between Marcus’s account and Parker’s, a fan no less. It started silly, insecure, stay away from my girl but rather than Marcus doing the right thing and assuring Parker their relationship was strictly business, never mind the inappropriate flirtations -Marcus simply said:

too late.
I fucked her. (^:

Frankie just stared, she stared at the response, at what Marcus had said, he even emoji’d like an asshole! “Aaaaugh!” She growled out loud, a shout, an anger filled atonal sound of pure displeasure! Her life was not supposed to be like this! -she hate-hate-hated how this felt, this torn up inside anger, this unplaceable feeling of skin crawling, pissed off, emotion to big for body state. She could have done more than just slam her palm into the wall, chuck her phone, she imagined Marcus before her, hunched her shoulders and balled her fists, she imagined screaming in his face, slapping him even, imagined. . .

. . . her face flushed, he was her type. Young, arguably gorgeous, fit, successful. . . she knew it wasn’t a complete stretch, even if she’d always been faithful to Parker in their short time together, boyfriends before him too, she knew Marcus was objectively a fit for her, objectively, maybe even better than Parker. –better looking, an earner, in a similar career path and. . . she derailed the thought entirely before barging out of the elevator.

In a pair of short shorts and a tank top, some comfortable sandals she wore around set often, the brunette charged about the upper suites of the hotel trying to find Marcus’s room. The entire floor had been rented out by the studio so he had to be in one of these rooms! Like a woman possessed, Frankie marched up one side of the hallways looking both ways for signs of life, signs of Marcus! She had a bone to pick,

I did not sleep with Marcus, Parker. How could you accuse me of that? You’re my boyfriend, I’m with you, I know you’re upset--

She couldn’t even finish the message, couldn’t send it, she didn’t want to console Parker, she wanted to tear Marcus a new one! She wanted to scream in his face, to explode! -on him in the worst way. He made her feel ways she never did, passionately upset ways, Parker didn’t do that for her. If he did, she would be working on that relationship, not seeking revenge from another.

--but he’s a manipulative ass hole, he’s fucking with you. I don’t even know why you’re in his DM’s! Don’t you trust me--

Again she put down her phone as one of the doors opened, a costar poking their head out to investigate the woman storming up and down the hall. “Oh, hey. You okay Frankie?”

Visibly upset, Frankie turned to the individual and tried not to impart her anger onto them, “Where’s Marcus?” she huffed at them without saying Hello back. Her long, flowing hair currently frazzled, her face flushed with emotion, she wasn’t Okay, no, she was far from it. She was wrapped up in so much emotion she almost took it out on them.

“Heh. . . he’s a couple doors, down.” They gestured to the end of the hall, one of the nicer suites on the floor. “Last on the left, he had us all over for drinks last night. I was surprised you didn’t join.” They said innocently.

--so, he was attractive and a gracious host, he was making friends with everyone but sabotaging her relationship! “That, hff,” she didn’t swear at them, she tried to direct her anger toward the correct person, Marcus. “Thanks Dean,” she murmured to him before walking down the hall, toward the end, toward Marcus’s suite.

Three economic knocks rang out as she wrapped her knuckles on pressed wood. Francesca was beyond angry, her life had been charmed before this whirlwind of shit, her life was a fabulous little collection of successes and joys she couldn’t refute, her life was. . . it wasn’t perfect but it was good, before Marcus. Now with him in the picture it felt like everything was falling apart! He was driving her up the wall, making her crazy. . .

“Oh, hey. You look upset.” Marcus chuckled, opening the door.

“Gee! -I wonder why,” Frankie immediately blurted back at him.

“Would you like to come in, Frankie?” he offered with a self satisfied, smug expression, flexing under his shirt, arms crossed over his chest as he stepped back from the door, letting her invite herself.

Frankie hardly waited for the invitation, but rather barged in the moment he started offering. The suite offered a small living room type space, a couch, coffee table and television, through a hallway was the master bedroom, ensuite and some storage space. It was a nice enough room for a couple or a single guest. It was clean, unlike her own, which looked like a bomb went off inside, though it did smell of burnt flowers – marijuana. Why wasn’t she surprised by that?

“-uh sure, come in.” He amended his statement as she did, acting rather aloof for someone who seemed dead set on making her life a living hell!

“-uh sure, come in.” She echoed back at him, trying to imitate his innocent guffaw. “Dude! -what the fuck?” Frankie got straight down to business as the door clicked shut. “You think it’s funny to tell my boyfriend you fucked me? –that’s not ok!”

Howling out few notes of amusement, Marcus shrugged, “It was funny.”

Frankie growled, “So you admit you did that.”

“Your boyfriend is an insecure loser, why do you even care?” Marcus rolled his eyes and flopped down on the couch behind him, remaining above the situation, acting like he didn’t care, at least. His chest was large, his thighs and legs strong like his arms. He was in shorts and a T-shirt, not unlike her, lounging wear, he looked. . . good. He was beyond handsome, an angled face, tan, which made his green eyes pop even more.

He ran a hand through his hair and waited for her response, Frankie completely flustered had no idea what to say, “That’s my business, though, isn’t it? You’re going to need to accept that I don’t want you. I don’t want to date you, I don’t want you to flirt with me, I don’t want to fuck you, I don’t want anything to do with you, Marcus.” She explained, “Drop it already,”

“Yeah. . . but you do,”

“What?” She barked back at him for his simple response.

“You do want me.”

Quirking her head, she bit back, “Oh, I want you. . . I call bullshit, you’re an egotistical little brat, you’re a kid!”

“And Parker is so grown up and well adjusted for his age.” A rueful smile crossing her lips, he loved toying with her, and she gave him every opportunity! Her blood was boiling, and he remained so very-very cool through it all. “Just admit it, it’s way easier. You’re making yourself. . . kind just look silly at this point Frankie, it’s not a good look. -own it.” He went on.

Frankie stood there dumbfounded for a moment, she could have slapped the taste out of his mouth for that comment, but she knew that fighting this fight physically was not the path to a clean win. She knew slapping him was wrong, probably was just what he wanted. The seed was planted though, the seed was planted and worming and growing and becoming impossible to ignore!

“You may as well.”

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“Fuck me.” Grinning now, he explained, “Parker already thinks you did, half the crew too.” Bluffing.
He was beyond manipulative, “Best sex of your life, guaranteed.” He stood up and walked around the coffee table, standing over her by a few stunning inches. She looked up at him, her nostrils flaring, glaring, pissed. –and something else too. She knew it was a bad idea, she did, but then, so much of her life had been bad ideas. . . Parker, was a bad idea at a fundraiser, his parents two large doners. Her boyfriend before Parker was another college student, just as dumb and good looking as the last.

--Marcus being painfully intelligent, at least enough to trap her like this, only added to his allure. He could get under her skin in a very real way, excite her, even if it had been in the worst way this whole time.

“C’mon Frankie, you want me. It’s Okay, just own it.” He echoed Jillian’s words, though the sentiment was different. Frankie suddenly popping back into the moment from a damning set of thoughts. Maybe.

. . . maybe.

His hands took hers and she let loose a vulnerable gasp, looking up at him, she bit her lip and just as soon he pecked the corner of it with an audible “Smch!” -she had every opportunity to push him away, to refuse him, to do anything. Frankie however, did nothing, after his chaste kiss.

She did nothing and Marcus continued.

“Smch, smck, sch!” three more pecks, his thin lips against her, full, supple pillows. She groaned, her eyes closing, her mouth opening, their tongues meeting in the middle in a charged exchange of saliva and heat. The two started to kiss in a passionate way, a way reserved for B-movies and action scenes in old pornos, the sort of kissing with tongues out and groans, moans, groping and shoves. He directed her toward the hall into the master and she stumbled backwards with him. Fuck!

They kissed the whole way there, a sloppy, sexy marriage of lips. Their lips smacked and smuckered, she licked the taste of him off of her lips and he shallowly grinned, as if to say told you so, whenever she chased him for more, for a top up on their lust.

In a blinding flash her shirt came off, she was not wearing a bra and her nipples were hard as diamonds on her petite bust. He shoved her down into the bed once they arrived. “Face down, ass up.” He grunted at her and submissively, dutifully, much to her chagrin, she complied. Frankie didn’t know what came over her, she knew this was awful for so many reasons, she knew it was wrong, but as Marcus all but tore off his shirt, revealing his trim physique, she couldn’t help but tremble with hot, wet, need.


While she’s not exactly primed and ready for that, she knows they’re not about to make love -they’re about to fuck. For that reason, she pulls out of her shorts and kicks off her sandals, flipping over onto her front. Supported by her knees, the star reaches out for a pillow and shoves it under her, hugging it tight as Marcus gives her ass a playful swat and pulls aside her thong.

“You’re soaked, ‘eh?” He teases her, though the truth is she knows it, she knows she’s working overdrive, she knows her cunt is practically dribbling lust for Marcus and his impossible-to-ignore drive. She has nothing to say to him, just a groan of anticipation for his cock, though “Oauh!” She gets two fingers instead. They slam into her, pulsing around, looking for any spot that’ll make her whine, he finds it quick. Once satisfied with the sounds, both her squelching pussy and moaning lips make – Marcus, with a devil-may-care grin, steps out of his shorts and underwear.

While she can’t entirely make him out, Francesca knows he must have a big dick, he has that energy in full. When the slab of meat he totes comes down between her ass cheeks and starts to smear itself over her entrance she knows he has no reasons to be insecure. “Oah, fffsth,”

“What’s that, Frankie?” He asks starting to direct the end of him into her, starting to grind his tip between her sopping folds.

“Fuck me!” She begs him in spite of herself, closing her eyes and praying he lays pipe as good as he prepped her for it!

“Told you so.” He can’t help but say, before wedging himself inside till he feels resistance, grimacing a little, letting her adjust before “Hnnggfk!” using her rotund rear for leverage, he slides inside the rest of his erect mass. In a matter of seconds, he’s working back and forth, finding purchase, finding spots that make her mewl. Frankie can’t believe it, the stamina and strength with which he enters and more over, stays.

“Auhk!” A ripple of pain and pleasure both burns her scalp as he tugs on her hair, wrapping his hand in her locks and pulling. “Ow-wow!” She whines loudly, “Careful!” But he doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t even care, he just keeps going. Marcus pulling her head back by her hair grins, swats, fucks and teases his way toward her completion, finally breaking the silence to ask rhetorically,

“—You like that Frankie?” In his egotistical way, he knows, he just wants to hear it, she knows, and yet she gives him what he wants.

“It’s so good, ffsssth, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she shudders, it’s true too, she hates it but it’s true. Marcus is endowed and knows exactly what he’s doing! A particularly rough set of thrusts leave her weak and toppling over the edge toward her first orgasm. “Aaauh-ha-haaaa!” she cries with enough volume to fill the room, a particularly wet set of constrictions letting Marcus know what a good job he’s doing, his cock bottoming out before he pulls out, not yet done himself, not yet ready to let her be either.

Without a word, he releases her hair and flips her over, Frankie’s legs quivering weakly she looks up at him dumbfounded by her quick arrival. A new tug at her hair pulls her into his face, she opens her mouth expecting their tongues to meet but instead “Phtew!” A hard, insulting, wad of spit flies between them, hitting her lip and finding the back of her throat, gooey on her tongue.

Marcus spit in her mouth, then slammed inside her pussy again, carelessly. She can only sit there in shock, she can only feel humiliation and debasement in that split second before “Ooaaauh!” she’s yet again, pulsating with pleasure, feeling starbursts of ecstasy ripple over her body from her pound pussy up. Worse. . . she never quite swallowed, his saliva rolling around her tongue till finally ‘gulp’ she did, looking him in the face. He took hold of her hair and returned pace, slamming himself in and out of her on her back, their sweaty bodies grinding together for another set of perverted purchase.

The relentless pounding continued, and Frankie can feel herself yet again, climbing closer and closer to orgasm. She felt heat across her skin, felt it on her face, felt it touching her stomach and chest, she felt his hands all over her even though they were just tugging her hair and holding her down for his assault.

“Good, you’re close. . . I can feel it,” He taunted her, “Cum for me Frankie, show me what a good girl you can be.”

She didn’t hate him any less for that, but she did arrive just as soon as he told her too. Her back arched and her toes curled, her mouth hung open still tasting of his spit and humiliation both. She came hard and quick, a small gush of her lust finding his cock and crotch, his curly, brown pubes. . . she came on him, and he pulled out, crawling over her body before she had the opportunity to ask the same of him. Before she could suggest he cum for her too,

His cock smeared her insides across her lips, plap-plap-plapping down on her face with several small, wet pats. She grimaced, but opened her mouth, hair matted to her face with sweat, starting to jerk and suck him off, tasting herself on him.

Frankie wasn’t exactly the queen of Beej but she knew well enough how to and in her post orgasm glow she wanted to be hot, she wanted to return the favour for him, to make him feel good. “Slrpt! Lrrrpht! Glp!” The sounds of her ministrations slurping between them. . . she was overly sensitive but still her free hand crept between her legs, she knew just a little teasing and she’d cum again, she at least needed to relieve the hot-hot-heat building there, threatening to distract her from task.

Her fingers dipped into her honeypot and started to tug, started to search and scissor and assuage the building heat inside while her palm grinded over her mound of pubic hair and her hood. She would have told him how good it felt, how nice he tasted, how ready she was for him to go, and even warn him not in my mouth.

When he pulled back and held her in place with a firm hand on the hair of her crown. “Hngf, take it!” He growled and just like that, belched rope after rope of thick, gluey seed across her flushed face. The first rope hit her lips, spraying up into her nostril and over her nose, another glued her eye shut and dripped down her cheek, the final on her forehead, more of a dribbling drop he painted there for her displeasure. . .

It was disgusting, again, Marcus left her feeling cheap and whorish. . .—and wanting more.

Marcus stumbled backwards off the bed and pulled up his pants, he didn’t say much but, “I need a shower.” And left her to the mess. . . she could only murmur something like pure shame and seek out a towel of her own. -there was none, each locked in the washroom with him.

Her door was several down the hallway on the opposite side of the elevator, she couldn’t exactly walk there like this. Shuddering she sat on the edge of the bed and started to wick the cum from her face with her fingers and hands, finally finding some tissue to dab with. There was nothing more shameful than the thought of his seed on her face and how long, it took to clean it off. . . she could still feel it there, staining her forever as she walked back to her room, redressed, sweaty, hair a total mess.

--if anyone saw her, there was no denying what she’d been up to, they’d read it on her like the news, like an unfolded paper in black and red. She’d fucked Marcus.

Frankie sat on the edge of her bed, entirely dumbfounded, feeling empty, feeling taken advantage of. . . feeling oddly satisfied. She whimpered, knowing she’d made a bad choice, had a bad idea, done the wrong thing. . .

In an effort to make up for the additional silence, she called rather than finishing the frantic text she’d tried to write him previously. No answer.

Hey, it’s Parker, you know what to do.

“. . . Hey Parker,


It’s me. . . I’m, I just wanted to call to say I’m sorry you’re upset.

I know you didn’t want me to come on this trip and I know you think I slept with Marcus, but I promise you I didn’t. You’re my boyfriend, I like you. -not him. . .

I promise I’d never do anything with Marcus, I’ll be home in a couple days. . . we’ll talk more about it then.

-love y’ah, babe.”


The first of many lies she was preparing herself to tell. . .



-fin.