Pick Up/Drop Off

Five o’clock was time to pick up the kids from day care. Always a good time of day, for some reasons that I would admit… and some others that I wouldn’t share so readily. On the public side, everyone will tell you that watching your kids’ eyes light up when they see you have arrived to pick them up, and them running over to give you a big hug and show you all the pictures they’ve been drawing, is enough to brighten even the most boring day in the office. And it really is true.

But an added bonus of picking up the kids that I wouldn’t usually mention is to chat to the other parents… and specifically to chat to, and check out, the women. Yeah I know what you’re thinking, these are mostly married women, but I know that everyone is doing it, mums as well as dads. We’re only human. Day care is full of mums dropping off and picking up kids, and all the daycare assistants are all women. And like any group of women, they come in all shapes and sizes, some older, some younger, blondes, brunettes, redheads. And some that just really catch your eye.

Most of us parents are so busy we barely have time to socialize with other people, so when we do get together with the opposite sex we look, exchange some secretive glances, maybe we flirt a little bit, but we behave ourselves. Well, normally.

Now I said that this is always a good time of the day, but today was an exception. A meeting had run overtime and I was rushing in the car from the office, already ten minutes later than the deadline for picking up the kids. Fuck it. Another red light. Should I ring ahead? No OK, nearly there, I’ll just grovel when I get arrive. The light changed, and I sped up the last stretch of road to the day care centre. I jumped out of the car and ran up the steps to the door and rang the buzzer, slightly out of breath. As I waited, heart pumping, I rehearsed a few excuses: meeting, roadworks, traffic lights…

But thankfully, it was Alessandra who answered the door. We knew each other fairly well by now — she had looked after the kids for a couple of years now, including some nights of babysitting. Plus we had even been out for dinner with her and her boyfriend more than once. She was one of those people who was always smiling, fantastic with kids, full of energy, easy to talk to. We got on well. Anyone else would have lectured me about punctuality, but she just greeted me with a smile and a laugh.

“What’s up, did you forget something?”

“Hey, sorry Ally”, I said with an apologetic laugh, catching my breath, “I have a complicated life”.

“Well, don’t worry” she replied, “the kids are having a great time. They’re out picking chestnuts — look.”

She pointed outside to the garden, where the kids were happily playing in the autumn leaves and gathering chestnuts into bags. Another day care lady was keeping an eye on them.

“That’s great”, I said, “hey, thanks for being cool even though I made you wait. Any of the other ladies would have told me off!”.

“I still might do that!”, she joked, poking a finger at me. Then she said, “Hey, how about a coffee for a few minutes? The kids will be happy out there for a while yet. You look like you need to take a break.”

I hesitated, but only for a second. “If you’re sure it’s ok…? Yeah, that sounds great, thanks.”

“Come on then.” She led the way into the day care building, and I followed her. All the other kids had gone home, so it was quiet. As I walked behind her, I looked her up and down, as I had done many times before. She was probably late twenties or very early thirties, with a Mediterranean complexion, probably Italian or Spanish by origin, about average height. Her long, dark curly hair was tied up in a bunch and bounced around as she walked. She was wearing a long, dark green, tight-fitting woollen dress which hugged her figure, narrowly around her waist and then widening to accommodate the curve of her hips and her ass, ending mid-way up her thighs. Underneath, she was wearing black leggings, and a pair of pink trainers which didn’t really match the ensemble but gave her a cute and playful look. I followed the line of the tight leggings as they disappeared under her dress, and gazed at the shape of her firm bum, which moved from side to side as she walked. What was it about the narrow waist, the wide hips and the ass that fascinated me so much? Some kind of ancient animal instinct, I guess. I shook myself, and tried to focus on something else.

Alessandra led me into the little staff kitchen. It was just a small room with a sink and a few cupboards, a kettle and a coffee machine, and a couple of chairs and armchairs where the day care staff could take a break and chat. At this time, it was empty except for us.

“Tea or coffee?” She smiled at me, and looked up at me through those dark eyelashes. She wore just a tiny amount of eyeliner to accentuate her eyes. I had always preferred women that didn’t go overboard on the makeup.

“Coffee sounds great” I said, smiling back. She turned to face away from me, and turned on the coffee machine. I stole the opportunity to stare again at her figure. She turned back and I hurriedly looked somewhere else.

“Hey, so how’s everything going?” I said.

We exchanged some small talk for a minute about work, where she’d been hiking at the weekend, but the conversation somehow quickly trailed off. I sensed that she wanted to talk about something, so I said, “is everything OK? You seem kind of thoughtful.” I really liked her and I was ready to listen and help out if I could.

“Everything’s great”, she said. “Work’s nice, but I’m pretty tired at the end of the day, looking after twenty kids is no joke!”

“Tell me about it”, I said. “I only have two for part of the day, and sometimes I wonder how I’m still alive! I can’t imagine how you keep it up all day, it’s really amazing.”

She laughed. “Yeah well at least I can go home and have a rest. You’ve got them even when you’re tired!”. She paused, and her smile faded slightly. “Not that I wouldn’t mind doing that as well.”

I knew what she was talking about. For a while, Alessandra and her boyfriend had wanted to have kids. She was perfect for it. But somehow, and I didn’t really know the details, they had never managed to get pregnant. I guessed that this was what she wanted to talk about, but I wasn’t really sure why she was talking to me in particular. It was normally something that women talked about between themselves.

“Hey”, I said cheerfully, “maybe you might get a surprise Christmas present! It’s bound to happen sooner or later.”

She sighed. All trace of a smile had disappeared. She leaned back on the counter top and shook her head, staring upward.

“I don’t know”, she said quietly. “We’ve been trying for over a year. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

She paused. I felt sorry for her–I knew how much this meant to her, but at that moment I couldn’t find any comforting words. I decided to stay quiet and let her talk, so I waited.

After a moment, she continued. “I mean…. actually I might know what the problem is. I mean…. I do know.” She glanced at me hesitantly, and then quickly looked away with a hint of embarrassment. “I took some tests. The doctor says that there are no problems from my side, so that means…”. She stopped awkwardly. “I didn’t tell him yet.”

“Hey. It’s OK.” I said quickly, trying to cover the embarrassment. “Look, there are treatments. It’s amazing what doctors can do these days. There are all kinds of things that you can do. Don’t worry about it.”

I stepped towards her and put my hands on her arms to comfort her. “It’s just like Jurassic Park”, I said, and continued in a nasal voice “life finds a way!”.

She burst out laughing. “OK professor!”. The mood had lightened up again now. She poked me playfully and stepped back slightly. “You guys are lucky though. You didn’t have any problems, right?”

“Well”, I said, “I can’t lie, we were lucky — as soon as we started trying it happened. Actually too fast — we missed out on all the fun!”

She giggled. “Wow, you stud!”, she joked. “A victim of your own success. I’ll have to get you together with my boyfriend one night for a beer and you can tell him your secrets!”.

“Aha!” I tapped my nose secretively. “Trade secrets! Maybe for a price.” By now we were both grinning widely. Partly because it was all funny. But partly because…. well… the topics were getting a bit beyond the usual small talk, and we were both a little awkward about it. Then Alessandra covered her eyes with one hand.

“OK.” She said. “Can I ask you a really awkward question? I mean… ah no, forget it.” She blushed.

“Come on”, I said, laughing, “you can’t say that and then not ask me. Fire away, I promise not to make fun of you.” And then, “Seriously, it’s fine, we’re friends.” I added.

“Alright.” She took a deep breath. “Can I just ask you, I mean, when you are trying” (we both knew what she meant here), “when you are trying, uh…. Is there like something you do in particular that helps…. I mean, I suppose what I want to say is…. what kind of… positions… do you go for?”. Suddenly she looked at me apologetically. “Look, I mean I don’t want to ask really personal questions, it’s just that… I mean, I, we, need a bit of help”. She bit her lip and looked at me pleadingly.

“OK look”, I said. Suddenly the room felt a bit heavier, maybe a bit hotter. I took a breath. “If you want to know”, I said slowly, “I think when you want to make a baby, I mean, you can do it in all kinds of ways. But if you want my opinion, I would say that the best way is the most natural position. I mean, most animals only, ahem, have sex, to procreate. And they all do it the same way.”

She gave me a small smile, but didn’t take her eyes off me. I returned the gaze. We both knew that the topic of conversation was now getting seriously off-road. “Soooo, you mean…. from the back?”

“Well, yeah”, I said, returning her gaze evenly. “It’s the most natural position. Plus, well, it’s pretty fun.” There was a silence.

At this point, I could feel that my heart rate had increased. And looking at Alessandra, I could see that she was probably feeling the same thing. Her cheeks had a flush to them, and her chest moved a little faster than normal. I glanced at her full breasts, which were outlined by her close fitting dress, as they rose and fell slightly with the rhythm of her breathing.

“So… Mr Discovery Channel” she began slowly, but without taking her eyes off of me. “Does it have to be on all fours? Or can humans also do it standing up?” At this point, she turned around and put her hands on the kitchen counter. The coffee machine beeped to signal that the coffee was ready.

Was it just my imagination, or had she just arched her back every so slightly? I was mesmerised by the shape of her body: her legs, her perfect ass and her waist, now pointing at me, seemingly drawing me towards her. She was so unmistakably female: every part of her body attracted me and beckoned me to touch her. I stepped towards her. Was something going to happen here? We had just had a very unusual conversation, and even though she had turned around when the coffee was ready, she wasn’t actually making any coffee. I took another step closer.

“I think standing is also OK”, I said softly. I stopped close behind her. She was turned to look at me through her curly hair. I knew it was my move, now or never. She had put out some serious signals, but if I had misjudged this, it could be a disaster.

The coffee machine beeped again. We both completely ignored it, in fact, we didn’t even hear it. The outside world was beginning to fade away, as a kind magnetic allure between us began to eclipse everything else. Now there was no mistaking the electricity in the room. I decided to put my cards on the table.

I moved even closer to her, until our bodies were nearly touching, and I could smell the perfumed scent of her hair. I softly put my hands on the sides of her legs, and ran them up to her hips, over the top of her dress, tracing the outline of her figure. I could feel the soft wool, the flesh of her hips and waist underneath. For a moment, she didn’t react, and there was a horrible split-second where I suddenly wondered if I had spectacularly misread this situation.

But then, slowly, she reached around and put her hands on top of mine, pulling them upwards and around her waist, up her stomach and on to her tits. I could feel the tremble in her hand, and perhaps my own, knowing that we were doing something that we really shouldn’t be doing at all. But the urge to continue was unstoppable, and slowly, we both surrendered to the moment.

I gently squeezed her breasts through her jumper, and she let out a moan. She moved to press her ass against my crotch and I willingly returned the pressure, my now rock-hard cock straining at the material of my trousers. I knew she could feel how turned on I was, and with one hand I pulled her hips even closer. Unconsciously, she began to slowly gyrate her hips, rubbing her body against me. Somehow, her figure seemed to naturally melt into mine, and I embraced her with my strong arms from behind. The desire had intensified so much by now that it was almost hard to breathe.

Suddenly, she pressed her back against me and looked up and back into my eyes. She reached up and gently took my head in her hands, twisting round slightly to see me. Her ass was still pressed tight against me.

“Look”, she whispered quickly, as if she feared the courage to say it would leave her, “I love my boyfriend but he can never give me what I want… what we both want. We could use a donor but I don’t want him to go through that. I don’t want him to know. I know you. You’re everything that I want for my child. He would never know.”

She looked at me. I knew what she was getting at. When girls are young, they go crazy for wild, self-destructive boys. But as they get a bit older and think about settling down, they start analysing men more carefully. Since my mid-twenties I had become something of an object of desire for these calculating females. I was mid-thirties, tall, dark haired, naturally broad-shouldered and had kept my dad bod well in check by going to the gym, running, and swimming. In fact I was in much better shape than I had been in I had been in my twenties. My forearms were lined with lean muscle, and though I wasn’t in danger of having a six pack, I was noticeably strong and in good shape for my age, with a healthy tan from sports and hiking. Add to the equation a PhD, an easy-going character, and being a musician, and you can see why I’m the kind of man a women wouldn’t mind mingling a few genes with.

“I want you to take me” she whispered softly. And then “I need you to take me”, with more urgency. I could feel her ass still gyrating slowly against my crotch. “It’ll be our secret”, she added. And then, turning back again to look at me shyly, she whispered “And…. I’m ovulating”.

If there was any hesitancy in me before, there was certainly none left after she’d said that. Animal instinct took over. Her fertility entranced me. Maybe I was imagining it, but I could smell her heavy intoxicating scent, that she was in high heat and ready to fuck. We were both becoming drunk on pheromones, enslaved and obedient to nature’s most basic command: to procreate.

I moved quickly. My hands reached down and up underneath her dress. I felt for the top of her leggings and her panties, and pulled both down in one go to her knees. I ran my hands quickly up her naked thighs and she sighed as I grabbed her buttocks and squeezed them, feeling the soft but firm cheeks and the smooth skin. I ran a hand between her legs to feel her pussy. It was absolutely soaking wet, the lips swollen and aroused. I slid my fingers further between her legs until I reached her clit, my fingers sliding effortlessly over and around it. She gasped. I was amazed at how turned on she was. There was no need for any foreplay here — this was not going to be a long play session. We had serious business to attend to and we were both fully ready for what was going to happen.

I pulled my hand back, and as it brushed against her ass it traced a glistening line of her wetness across her skin. I quickly undid my belt. She reached around, urging my hands to go faster, pulling at my trousers and pants until they were down by my knees. There was no time to get properly undressed. As my pants came down, my thick cock sprang free and pushed up against her olive-skinned ass. It was so hard that it ached — my balls were desperate to unload what was inside them, to do the job that they were made for, that I was made for.

She held my shaft and stroked it for a moment, still facing away from me, presenting her body to me. Then she guided it down between her ass cheeks, the tip brushing past her asshole, and further down, deeper and warmer between her lithe and smooth legs. There was no question of any cock sucking, or pussy licking. Neither of us wanted it, or even thought about it. The only thing that mattered now was to fuck.

By now she was bent over the kitchen counter top, her back almost horizontal but arched so that her pussy could be readily accessed by my yearning cock. I pulled up her dress to reveal the hearts-shaped profile of her naked ass, her beautiful waist and the line of her back which ran up underneath her jumper. My dick was now touching the lips of her pussy and I could feel the warm, slippery wetness on the tip. Her whole body was ready for me, inviting me, to do my job.

I pushed.

Her pussy was so drenched that my penis slid half way in almost effortlessly. She let out a stifled cry and quickly put her hand over her mouth. I could tell that she was already close to orgasm, even though we had barely started. But the raw, animalistic nature of our union was also driving me wild and I could feel that this wasn’t going to last long.

I pulled my cock out slightly and then pushed forward again, further in. I could feel the tight pussy walls simultaneously resisting but welcoming me, embracing me. Her body knew very well what was happening and reacted accordingly, and her vagina opened wider, urging me forward, to go deeper towards her womb. At the same time, her tight pussy gripped my swollen member, massaging it and stimulating it to get the seed that it needed and desired.

I gripped her hips now, my fingers holding tight to her pelvic bones on either side, and began to rhythmically fuck her from behind. She gripped the counter top tight, and I could see her knuckles whitening. Each time I thrust into her, she moaned into her hand, somehow remembering at least not to cry out loud. The feeling, even though we were not yet climaxing, was already ecstasy. By now, my cock was soaked in her juices, and the natural lubricant was running down onto my balls. I could feel the back of her thighs slippery with the wetness.

I gripped tighter onto her hourglass hips. Beads of sweat had formed on her back and her ass, and I could see smears of sweat from her hands on the polished kitchen counter top. My hands were also sweating with the sheer intensity of the moment, and I took one hand off of her hips and reached to hold her hand. Our wet hands wound tightly together and she pulled me ever closer towards her as I continued to thrust into her body, her ass squashing against my legs as I drove deeper and deeper inside. The potent scent of her body and her pussy was intoxicating me as I took her, unable to think about anything else except breeding this fertile female.

The moment was close. Even though she was smothering her cries with one hand, they were getting louder. Her breathing was rapid and her whole body arched and writhed with the rhythm of our copulation. I could feel my own orgasm building up like a fire inside me, my body preparing to release everything into her. The intensity of the feeling was almost overwhelming, like nothing I had ever felt before. It felt so incredibly right, even though what we were doing was betrayal.