by Jamie Knight
I knew not to slow down fucking her and massaging her breasts. She showed her gratitude. Her pussy throbbed and covered my dick in wetness. She came over and over.
My own thighs throbbed. My dick and balls were just at the tripwire, at the point of no return. I was on the verge of cumming, of shooting my saved-up load all into Eleanor’s pussy.
I grabbed her from behind, gripping her tightly with all the strength of my arms. Then I mashed my dick even deeper into her pussy, as I felt my cock start to throb up against her walls.
Every burst of cum splashed out into the depths of Eleanor’s pussy and womb. She gasped and whimpered with every burst of cum I pumped into her.
I leaned in and kissed her ear, then sucked on her earlobe. She reached behind and fondled my balls as if to milk more cum out of them. I managed to shoot two more gobs into her. She sighed with each one.
I ran my hands over Eleanor’s curvy torso, with small squeezes at her waist and hips. My cock was still deep inside her. I held her from behind and nudged her to stand up. As Eleanor stood up, I kissed the crook between her shoulder blades, just below her neck, and I pulled my dick out of her pussy.
We stood face to face again. Eleanor pushed her face into my face for a slow, loving kiss. Her tongue fluttered at my lips, then inside my mouth. Her breath was hotter, with a slightly flowery smell. It was as if she’d just been put into a different physical state by me fucking her hard and filling her with my seed.
Still breathing quickly, she sat back down on the sofa, where she’d left her book of Lord Byron. She wiped her hands together and picked up the book again.
“You wanna sit down with me again?”
Eleanor smiled when she asked me this question, as if she already knew the answer. And, of course, I wanted to sit down with her again.
The library’s pilled fabric sofa wasn’t designed for naked use. Maybe it was the first time it had been used by nude patrons. I didn’t care. Eleanor probably didn’t either. Eleanor and I had both just orgasmed and were recovering in post-orgasmic ecstasy.
I hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Orgasms from jerking off were nothing like orgasms from real sex. I hadn’t had any of the latter in at least a year. Now, after cumming inside Eleanor, I was relaxed, sated, winded, and washed over by love. I wouldn’t admit that last part. But how could I not feel love toward this kind, curious, quirky, gorgeous, and sexually adventurous woman?
I moved in to kiss Eleanor again, this time softly, to embrace her lips in my own, to show her how much I enjoyed spending time with her. She was already looking down at the Lord Byron book in her hands. We were both still naked.
I reached out to Eleanor’s arm. My hand cradled her chin, and I leaned in for the soft, tender, loving kiss. It was a kiss that said “I love you” without freaking out anyone by actually saying it.
Eyes half-closed from sexual exhaustion and exhilaration, she kissed me back, just as tenderly, lips on lips, tongue on tongue. She lay her head in the crook of my neck. Her hair smelled like lilac shampoo.
Eleanor’s hand was soft. I held it in my right hand while looking into her gorgeous green eyes. She ran her palm over my torso, from my defined abs and pecs to my sensitive neck. She stuck her finger into my mouth, and I sucked on it and licked the tip. She giggled.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
I was starting to get worried about that. I still had to drive the package truck the following morning.
“Exactly midnight.” Eleanor grinned.
“How can you know?”
“There’s a clock on the wall behind us.” She smiled and pointed behind her head blankly, then again put her head in the crook of my neck. “I see it in the window reflection.”
“I have to get—” I started to say, wondering how the following day I could go back to driving a UPS truck after an evening like this one.
“Yeah, I gotta get going too,” she said.
Maybe she just didn’t want to seem rude.
“Let’s do this again next week,” she whispered and leaned into my lips for one last soft kiss.
Chapter Five - Eleanor
The beeping notification on my phone that woke me up at seven A.M. shouldn’t have been a surprise. Yet, I felt like I hadn’t slept at all and had just come down with the flu. My stomach was doing cartwheels for no reason. The night before had been dull, as had every Friday night for the last month or so.
It was not what I had expected. After meeting, and fucking Aiden, I figured my Friday nights would be full of him and full of love. However, that was not the case. The week after our first night together, he had to rush out of town for a family emergency.
Sure, he’d called me to let me know, but I was dubious as to his true intentions. Then it was just one excuse after another – he was making up work, he had problems with friends, and on and on till I got the distinct impression that I was being ghosted.
I stopped answering his calls. He would still text me every once in a while, but the heat was already gone. I didn’t bother responding. I didn’t see any reason why I should. I didn’t need a pity fuck and I wanted more than a friends with benefits relationship.
I ran into the bathroom as my body tried to get rid of everything I had ever thought of eating. I was weak, lightheaded, and suddenly everything smelled terrible. I knew what the symptoms indicated, but it just couldn’t be right.
I couldn’t get pregnant.
Could I?
It was the moment I had always wished for. I’d spent ten thousand dollars out-of-pocket to have donors and in vitro. Before that night in the library with Aiden, I had sometimes looked at the baby name sites on my phone wistfully, hopefully, even though I knew perfectly well that I couldn’t get pregnant.
Now here I was. My body was acting like it was pregnant.
Anxious, I went to the doctor’s office immediately. Dr. Williamson was a fully qualified obstetrician who had been with me through every trial I tried.
I thought of him as a dear friend by this point, and he often went the extra mile to be here when I needed him. For that, I would thank him by taking him out to Starbucks, which was just down the street.
The doctor pulled up the test results on his screen.
“Good news. You’re definitely pregnant. The embryo is too small to see with an ultrasound right now, but you’re on your way.”
I bit my lower lip and held back a tear. Of course, I’d always wanted to be a mother. I just never thought I could be. And here I was becoming a single mom.
Shit, what should I tell Aiden?
Should I tell Aiden anything?
I’d only known him for about a month. And he had no idea about the pregnancy. We had only spent one night together.
Clearly, he didn’t want anything serious with me, since he kept having so many excuses to see me.
So, I doubted he’d be happy about the prospect of having a baby with me.
Dr. Williamson went through a file of papers on his desk, then flipped through several forms of questions on his computer screen.
“If you don’t mind, and of course this is totally optional, do you have the genetic history of the father?”
“Not right at this moment.”
My voice cracked a little bit.
I was embarrassed to tell my long-term doctor-turned-somewhat-friend about the circumstances of this baby’s conception. I had been raised religious and guilt over the one-night stand still gnawed at me, even though I was glad it had produced a surprise pregnancy.
“Again, I’m sorry if I’m intruding, and you can always decline to answer,” Dr. Williamson continued. “But do you know the father’s identity?”
I worked hard not to be offended by the question. Sure, a woman could have been impregnated by a hookup with a stranger.
I had been impregnated by a hookup with — the UPS man. The UPS man who I barely knew very well at all. That didn’t feel great.
/> “Yeah, of course, I know the father’s identity.”
I could be proud of that much, at least.
“Ok, his name please?” Dr. Williamson looked at me.
He seemed ready to type the few letters by which I knew the man who’d impregnated me.
“Aiden. His name is Aiden.”
Okay, I aced that question. I felt pretty good about myself. But I vaguely anticipated another question coming up, one I wouldn’t quite ace. At least I wouldn’t yet be able to ace.
“Alright. And his last name?”
Dr. Williamson asked the question so routinely.
Aiden had mentioned his last name that first time he introduced himself as the UPS driver, but I hadn’t remembered it since then.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know — I’m sorry—”
My voice definitely cracked. I felt as if I was being called a slut who let men with unknown last names impregnate me.
“It’s alright. I understand.” Dr. Williamson crossed out something on one of his forms. “So, Aiden won’t be involved as a parent?”
“I really don’t know,” I said, trying my hardest to remain polite.
I knew that the question was innocent.
But how could I have known whether Aiden would be involved in raising the child?
Aiden was a sweet enough guy, but he and I had absolutely no relationship.
“I presume Aiden doesn’t know that you’re pregnant?” my doctor pressed.
“I only found out for sure just now myself.”
I gritted my teeth and shook my head.
“Ah, yeah, ok.”
Dr. Williamson looked at the appointment details on his screen.
“Can we talk about something other than Aiden, please?”
“So, the father is not going to be involved—”
“Please, can we talk about something else? Anything else? I don’t know yet whether he’s going to be involved, ok? I’m going to call him and ask. You don’t have to ask me a million questions about it, because I don’t know yet. I haven’t told Aiden yet. Is that ok?”
I heard my own voice growing louder at the end of that statement. I hadn’t entirely meant to do that. But those were precisely the questions I didn’t want to think about until I’d at least discussed the pregnancy with Aiden.
“Yes. I’m sorry.” Dr. Williamson’s mouth tightened. “We just like to get these things — anyway, I’m sorry. You already have the schedule of your follow-up appointments here for your pregnancy. The next appointment is four Fridays from now, at noon. Is there anything else I can do for you, Eleanor?”
“Nothing else. I’ll take you for coffee next time! Thanks.”
I felt bad for shooing him away so quickly but there really wasn’t anything he could do to make me feel better. The doctor couldn’t call Aiden for me. That was the foremost thing that had to be done. Dr. Williamson also couldn’t ask Aiden to be a father for me. It was all my task.
I walked out of the doctor’s office into downtown New York’s chilly morning air. I could’ve turned left and gone to the library, but I was in no mood for it. I still wanted to talk to Aiden.
I turned right for Starbucks. There was one down the street, slightly downhill. It would be a good place for me to make an important phone call. Or at least it would have to be a good place for me to make an important phone call. I hoped so, anyway.
Grande mint tea. That would warm me from the chill outside and the chill of trepidation I felt inside me. At least it would warm and comfort my throat before I’d have to talk with Aiden.
I sank into the soft fabric chair, took out my phone, and breathed deeply. Aiden’s number was already saved in my phone. Only as Aiden, no last name. It took one click to dial.
Aiden answered through wind noise and traffic sounds.
“Yeah, hello. I’m driving for work right now.”
“Aiden, have you ever thought about having children?”
“Can we have this conversation another time? I’m driving now.”
I hear the sound of a UPS truck engine growl. Then I hear honking horns.
“But… do you want to be a father?”
“Haha. Comedian. No really, can we talk later, Eleanor?”
Now I hear a close-up honking horn. And then Aiden sighing.
“Aiden, really. I need to know —”
“Eleanor, are you high or something?” Aiden was almost yelling. “What the hell? No offense, but I haven’t heard from you in a while and now you’re just sounding kind of crazy. Can you call me back later when I’m not driving, and you’re not… um….?”
Being crazy, I thought, knowing that Aiden was too nice to finish his sentence.
But I could picture Aiden shaking his head while driving his UPS truck.
I hung up.
That was that.
There was no reason to start my pregnancy with an argument with the person who I presumed was now my ex-lover.
That one night together had qualified to make Aiden my ex-lover, didn’t it?
If not, I didn’t even have an ex-lover to blame the pregnancy on. It would just have to be “some guy,” some guy who’d fucked me hard over the sofa on the library’s third floor and sent me on my way to single motherhood.
I didn’t want to deal with it. I didn’t want to deal with anything. My destination that morning was my bed. Once I lay on my back, under the sheets and soft down comforter, I didn’t want to go anywhere else.
I had no place to go anyway. Work wasn’t until Monday. None of my friends or relatives — not even nosy Claire at the library — knew that I had slept with Aiden. Their reaction if I’d told them about being pregnant would probably have been the same as Aiden’s.
I’d tell them, though, of course. Sometime. Just not right at that moment, when all I wanted to do was sleep — for the rest of the day, at least, and the rest of the weekend, probably.
Every minor rumble in my tummy made me think of a kicking baby. Of course, my baby was only a few weeks old, an embryo, not even a fetus.
It would be months before the baby could kick. But my mind was focused on it. And the sadness and loneliness I felt. I knew those feelings were triggered by the conversation with Aiden and the pregnancy hormones.
Under the blankets, looking up at a blank ceiling, and then over to the second bedroom that would be the baby’s, I talked to myself because I had no one else to talk to.
“I’m pregnant,” I said, up into the comforter.
The comforter lived up to its name just a little bit. It felt good to be hiding from the world in bed, especially when the world wasn’t providing much support for my pregnancy.
“I’m pregnant,” I said again, with nobody around to hear it.
It felt good and bad and scary, but mostly just lonely. And my emotions were on edge. Every shutting door in the apartment building felt like a hammer to my head, and every recollection of the tone of Aiden’s voice during our phone call felt like a monumental abandonment.
My phone rang. I hadn’t yet gotten around to changing the ring sound to a baby cooing. Or, more realistically, a baby crying.
According to caller ID, the call was from Aiden. No thanks. After that previous conversation, I had no interest in talking with him. Even thinking of talking to Aiden made my stomach tighten and my teeth clench.
From now on, it was just his baby and me. Let Aiden be the anonymous semen donor. Let Aiden keep driving his truck. Let Aiden think my pregnancy was delusional. I would still have a beautiful baby in my arms after nine months of low-grade misery.
Chapter Six - Aiden
I called to apologize that very same evening that I’d told off Eleanor. I’d called her still from my delivery truck on the way back to the depot. But she didn’t answer.
She also didn’t answer all the times I tried to call again that same day. I texted Eleanor the next day to ask whether she was alright, and that overture also went unan
swered.
Fine. I could take a hint. Things hadn’t worked out between us since that first night. I had tried to contact her after we had first hooked up, but she had stopped answering me back then, too. It looked like this was just more of the same now.
It sucked that she had gone so long without contacting me, only to finally call me at an inopportune time, during which I was frustrated and exasperated at her strange, random questions, and then to have her go back to ignoring me when I was trying to apologize.
But it was what it was.
Clearly, she wanted to be left alone, whether temporarily or permanently.
Maybe that was the message Eleanor was sending with that bizarre “Do you want kids?” stunt.
Or maybe she was just hungry for attention.
Either way, it didn’t bode well for the possibility of us as a couple.
She hadn’t seemed so eager in the first place. After all, it was Eleanor’s coworker at the front desk who’d pushed her into my arms, or me into her arms, or something like that, whatever it had been.
And that time, Eleanor and I had read Lord Byron. We had our evening of passion on the library sofa — maybe that was just our mutual horniness and loneliness manifesting itself, nothing more.
Maybe it had only been two desperate, lonely people satisfying their basic physical needs. Maybe she didn’t want anything more to do with me than just getting fucked, getting her rocks off, clearing the pipes, or however it went.
Librarians had pipes to clear just the same as anybody else did.
Just as UPS drivers did, in fact.
But I wanted something more substantial.
“Are you seeing anybody?” the OkCupid questionnaire asked.
No, of course, I wasn’t, or I wouldn’t be here trying to do online dating. I was totally single. And ready to mingle. With women who didn’t call me up asking crazy questions out of nowhere and who didn’t disappear after our first evening of sex, preferably.
But every dating profile I saw online only made me miss Eleanor more. Nobody could match her in looks. Those green eyes. The way she whispered poetry at night on the library sofa.
