Lena
There’s a fine irony, sometimes, in life. It hits you when you least expect it, and it’s especially true when you’re a teacher. Often, these moments come with individual students, and you learn something from it. Sometimes, you realize that in a certain moment, you really, really, aren’t practicing what you’re preaching when it comes to what you’re teaching.
Take the class I have right now.
Sex education.
I don’t usually teach this class—obviously. But I’m needed to substitute again, and I’m not one to turn down an opportunity to enrich young minds.
Except I’m talking about concepts that I’ve completely thrown to the wind lately.
Birth control.
Condoms.
Abstinence.
I’ve never been on birth control, and Booster and I don’t use condoms. It’s very easy—embarrassingly so—to remember how it feels to have him cum between my legs and inside me while I tell teenagers that that’s a very, very bad thing to do. Among their snickers, I imagine that they’re not taking me very seriously, which is fine—I don’t take myself seriously in this moment, either.
And abstinence? Ha. Okay. That’s not happening.
But I have to tell these young, impressionable minds, that it’s their best bet in not getting pregnant or contracting something nasty while I simultaneous spend my nights getting bent over, spread open, pounded into thoroughly—
“And remember, there’s no amount of sex that’s worth accidents and danger,” I say, coming to the close of my lecture.
There are rolling eyes and more snickers, and I honestly want to join in with them. Yeah, sure. Whoever wrote that rulebook obviously never had sex with Booster Wylde. Obviously, they never had the feeling of someone who actually knew what they were doing with their manhood going at them—
I cut my thoughts off here. There’s no way that I need to be having these kinds of fantasies while in the middle of my class.
The bell rings though, and it’s time for the kids to go. They all leave, chattering away about how silly the lessons are and well, I’m not gonna need this stuff anyway and did you hear how she said the word penis?
Oh, to be a child again. I sometimes envy their ability to disregard good advice without thinking about it.
I smile, though. The lesson was fun otherwise, and it does have me in a good mood—mainly because it has me thinking about Booster. Do I have time to let my thoughts … wander a little? I don’t have another class until next period … I could probably afford to think about last night …
I go to my classroom door and lock it. I draw the blinds closed before I sit at my desk again. I’m wearing a skirt; I push it up a little until the hem is over my knees and I spread my thighs beneath my desk.
This isn’t something that I’ve ever done before. I don’t touch myself at work. But being with Booster has made me a little wild … a little insatiable. I can’t help but slide my fingers over heated panties covering already wetting lips.
He’s got me against my wall, hoisted up, legs wrapped around him. We’ve been at it for hours and my pussy drips in his seed. I love the feel of it—how hot and nasty it makes me. I buck against him, making sure every inch of him slides deep and hits where it feels best and has my walls tightening around him.
“There. There!”
He complies so wonderfully. He’s got his teeth in my shoulder, growling against my skin as he holds me there like we’re animals, going at this with pure, primal instinct.
“Oh, fuck …”
My fingers have ventured inside me as I think about last night. They slide under the silky fabric of my panties and pump in and out of me in a mockery of the way Booster does it. They’re not as thick or as big, but that’s okay. I press my finger to my clit and whine.
“Such a pretty little mewl, Doll,” I can hear him say in my head. “Pretty sounds for me and only me, isn’t that right?”
I nod.
“Oh god, yes, fuck.”
“Good girl. I’m gonna have you fat yet—”
I have to bite my lip as I slam my fingers into my hole and caress the little nub of pleasure between my thighs that has me about ready to burst any second now. Closer, closer; I’m so damn close I can taste release on my tongue. My hips writhe in place at my desk, and there’s nothing to stop the wave that crashes through me as I cum in my seat.
My thighs tremble, and my stomach tightens. Oh god, it felt so good, so intense, I don’t know what to do with myself but strum my fingers in me a little more and play my clit until it’s honestly too much and I have to withdraw my fingers from inside me.
I slouch over my desk, panting a little into my arm. God, that was good, but I know what could be better. I bite my lip, stifling the whine that threatens to come as my walls clench around nothing.
It’s almost embarrassing to think that a man could have such a measure of control over me in the way that Booster does like this. I should be embarrassed, being reduced to a moaning mess at my place of work over the mere thought of being with Booster.
But … oddly enough, I’m not. My insides are warm, and they tremble with the desire to have Booster again.
I don’t know what’s more addicting. The act of getting pregnant, or the thought that it’s the reason we keep screwing like bunnies.
***
After I clean myself up, I get back to work. The rest of the day is (perhaps blessedly) more uneventful than the beginning was. I have no more inclinations to finger myself until I’m seeing stars, though I do have another thought that comes to mind.
In all the sex we’ve been having, I haven’t bothered to see about a pregnancy test.
Instead of going straight home, I end up driving to the pharmacy. I rarely get sick, and I don’t have medications that I have to take, so I’m rarely ever in here. It almost feels like there are a hundred eyes on me as I walk in, the doorbell ringing indicating that someone’s walked on in.
My face is hot. I wonder if they’ll know who I am. That I’m not married. That I’ve been seen around with a biker named Booster and what kind of judgement that will bring when I set a pregnancy test on the counter.
Well. They’re supposed to be professional, anyway, and it’s none of their business if I’m doing a bit of … unorthodox family planning.
I wander idly up and down the aisles. There’s an anticipation that grips my chest, squeezing tight in my chest.
There’s a good chance that I’m pregnant. And even if I’m not, it will just give more excuses to keep having sex with Booster until I am.
“Can I help you, miss?”
I jump at the sudden voice. A pharmacy worker’s come over by me, a woman about my age who gives me a kind smile. “I can tell you what aisle you need.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” I tell her. “I’m just browsing.”
It’s a weird thing to say in a pharmacy, considering the fact that most people go to the pharmacy with something very specific in mind to buy—not something to browse. The woman gives me a peculiar look for this fact, but she lets me go on my way without too much of an extra fuss.
I browse more aisles, almost avoiding the one that I need before I finally buck up, take a breath, and plunge down it.
There’s a great irony in the fact that the condoms are in the same place as the pregnancy tests. Rows and rows of magnums and pleasure sensation rubbers and special lubricant this, ribbed for her that, are right beside bright pink- and pastel-colored tests.
It occurs to me that I’ve never had to take a pregnancy test before, and as I stare at the numerous brands and boxes, I have no idea which one I’m supposed to get. Which is the most accurate? Is cheaper still okay, or should I spring for a more expensive brand?
I realize that I haven’t thought this through quite as thoroughly as I should have, and I spend the better part of the next ten minutes reading the backs of each brand to weigh their claims against each other and figure out what’s the most cost effective yet efficient brand.
In the end … I buy one of each. I’ll just take all of them and average out the results if they end up being different across the board. Of course, I didn’t think to get a basket before going on my great search, and end up walking to the front counter with my arms laden down with pregnancy tests.
The same woman that greeted me before is there. Her eyes widen a little upon seeing my spoils, but that’s the only indication of her shock before she schools the looks off her face and smiles at me.
“Find everything you need?”
“Oh, yeah. I think this about covers all my bases …”
The woman gives another small smile, and starts ringing up all my tests. I’m a little glad that she isn’t bothering with asking me all the nitty gritty details. I don’t have anything remotely normal to tell her about this pregnancy-that-might-not-be, and I don’t have to tell her anything, anyway!
Why am I so defensive with myself? Who knows. Maybe it’s pregnancy hormones.
With my (pricy) purchase, I head home. I drive a little faster than what’s probably necessary, but not fast enough to get me into trouble. I park a little lopsided in my drive before I head inside, and go straight for my bathroom.
Dumping out all the tests onto my counters, I stare down at them, as though they’ve all personally offended me in some sort of way—which one do I start with? The expensive ones first and work my way down? Or the cheaper ones and work my way up to potential higher accuracy?
I grab a random one, hike up my skirt, and squat over my toilet.
Halfway through the tests, I run out of pee. I go to my kitchen and fill up a cup of water, chug it, and then fill it a second time and do the same thing. Repeatedly. It’s probably silly, but it fills my bladder quickly enough that I can pee on a couple more sticks before I’m standing with a skirt up around my belly, with more tests than I realized I grabbed now sitting and fermenting themselves on my sink.
Well, Lena. This is the position that you’ve gotten yourself into.
I put my skirt in a more acceptable position and wait. Fifteen to twenty minutes is what all the tests need in order to give me a positive or a negative reading. Fifteen or twenty minutes where I spend that time going about my house and doing menial tasks just to keep myself from standing and staring at the sticks that are littered all over my counter.
I’ve got my phone set, and when it goes off, I jump, running to the bathroom. My heart races as quickly as my feet pad against the wooden floors, and I close the door behind me—as if to get a feeling that this is my moment, my moment alone.
I pick up the first test.
Pregnant.
My heart skips a beat, and I pick up another one. It’s got two little pink lines on it, and when I consult the box, that means that it’s an affirmative reading.
The next one has a little blue plus. Pregnant.
I go through each of the pregnancy tests, with none of them giving me a negative reading. None of them giving me even half a shadow of a doubt that this is … real. This is happening.
Oh my god. I’m going to be a mother.
I almost faint then and there. I can feel the air leave me and the lightheadedness settles in fast, but I grip the sink and lean over it.
I know that we’ve been having sex a lot, but I honestly didn’t think that I would become pregnant this quickly. It’s not a bad thing, but it is surprising.
Little by little, a grin spreads over my face. I start to giggle, and before I know it, there’s a full-blown laugh that’s rumbling up from my stomach that I can’t and don’t bother to try to contain.
Oh my god.
I’m going to be a mother.
Booster’s going to be thrilled, and I shove my hand into my pocket, retrieving my phone. I’m about to dial him when I pause.
I shouldn’t tell him this over the phone. I need to do it in person. He’s the one that came to me about having a child. He’s the one that put all of this into motion. Without him …
Without him I would be just Lena. A schoolteacher. Living out the motions of teaching other people’s children instead of having any of her own.
I owe it to myself, and to Booster, to do this right. It may be an unorthodox coupling, but it’s the one that we have, and I’m not about to sit here and ruin it by telling a man that he’s a father over the phone.
I smile to myself, letting my hands settle on my belly. It’s going to be swollen big with a child in nine months.
Truly, it’s probably insane. But I’ve never been happier in my entire life.
I can’t wait to tell Booster.