The summer months are a blessing on public transport. As the warmth increases, winter coats and layers are stowed away revealing all but the most essential strata to protect the dignity of the possessor. The dark long nights of the displaced winter and accompanying fertility rituals have led to an uprisen amount of mom’s to be with their bountiful fecund beauty.
Stepping onto the bus was a fine example of a summer kissed parturient, flustered by the warmth and overcrowded bus. She must have conceived in the late spring as she was just starting to display outward signs of being fruitful. Her belly protruding with shape yet not copiously pregnant.
Her subtle movements and behaviour confirmed her pregnancy and her protective maternal instinct to protect her unborn child. Her hand and arm fortified her baby as she scanned the bottom deck of the bus for a vacant seat.
I have always found pregnant women attractive as they possess an apparent pseudo purity, an innocence proved wrong by their blatant biological display of fornication.
This young girl on the bus was no exception to my fondness of child-bearers. She carried herself with a simplistic awkwardness that one could not help but smile at. Her pale skin was slightly blushed by the summer heat and her expanding waistline displaced her center of balance making her appear vulnerable yet rather solid.
Standing to free a seat, I signalled for her to sit. Her ginger shoulder-length hair had a long fringe that merged with the upper rim of her glasses, sheathed her flushed lightly freckled face. I found her highly attractive, enchanting in a non-conventional way; her prettiness was not intense but every element ticked a lascivious desire within my soul. She carried a plain charm about her, understated yet elegant. There was just something about her which set sirens off inside of me, a yearning desire to make her happy.
“I’m 13 weeks.” She informed me. Being told that she had had sex a lot more recently than I, turned my thoughts back to her pregnant body and to the lucky man who impregnated her.
“Congratulations on having sex!”, “Lucky bastard!”, “Is the father still in the picture?” Several replies ran through my mind, but none sounded right to utter to this innocent looking girl sat upon a bus full of school children. “And very beautiful with it,” was what I managed to stumble out, making her rosy face blush slightly more. A simple “Congratulations!” would have sufficed.
Seating herself in my chair, she made herself comfortable, resting her hand upon her perky tummy. I noticed that she lacked a wedding ring upon her wedding finger, unless the nuptials were due to take place in the next 6 months, the child would be born out of wedlock, a bastard.
I didn’t want her to catch me analysing every fine detail of her unintelligible beauty, I tried not to become absorbed by her. My eyes fell downwards and upon her jaunty belly, firm and full of flowering fertility. Her skirt supported the base of her paunch and came to an abrupt stop exposing her snow white thighs. I deduced that she was not one for lounging upon a beach tanning herself, nor was into fake tans. Her pale, slender but untoned legs suggested that she didn’t frequent the gym or lead an active lifestyle. She appeared to be charmingly low maintenance and undemanding, out with the bedroom at least.
Her baggy crisp white blouse opened up unearthing a slightly freckled upon pale cream cleavage and an unflattering bra which pushed her small breasts upwards and exposed them to my bird’s eye perspective.
I gripped the headrest of her seat firmly as I shrewdly sketched the curves of her beautifully formed, ivory breasts. The cherry on the cake would be to catch a glimpse of one, or both of her nipples. Alas, her covering prevailed and prevented such a pleasure.
My imagination filled in the blanks about her invisible nipples, I had visions of her lactating and warm milk dripping from them. Mid daydream, hypnotized by her tantalizingly cute little breasts, she arose from the seat, abruptly disconnecting my relationship with them.
“Excuse me,” she said awkwardly. I expected her amber eyes to slap my cheek through her thick glasses. Instead, her eyes captured mine for an awkward moment before a flustered and tormented impish smirk spread upon her unpainted lips. “I need to go…” Then she paced away and off the bus. I watched her through the window as she quickly walked down the street.
Infatuated and aroused by my brief love affair with the pretty pregnant princess, I promised myself that I would take the later bus home from now on.