A Crisis Pregnancy, Chapter 4

by S. J.

Molly had a sadness about her that otherwise would never have been fascinating to me. “Aloof and casual too,” I thought to myself. At the same time I could sense a hint of zest in her words and manners. A passion showed through that somehow my clit recognized. My clit told me there was something about this girl that made it worth my getting to know her.

Thus, I was more than fascinated. I was also wet with excitement to have her in the office with me. Maybe it was that she was boyish. I had more than a warm place in my heart for girls who were naturals at gender-bending.

Maybe it was the hair on her body, particularly her legs—especially her kneecaps. On more than one occasion I had pursued a girl whose particular appearance got me wet while looking at her. I never minded being the anomaly of a girl lover who was most fascinated with hairy, young girls.

It could also have been the spontaneity of the moment. I was the ultimate seductress, gleeful at the prospect of a new conquest.

I truly did not want to do “social work” with this girl. I didn’t want to think of her as a client. She was obviously from a poor family, with an absent mother and a father who left her alone for hours and days. Besides, I had suspicious thoughts of what else he might have been up to. At the foundation, he was a male and I didn’t like or trust males.

Despite the mixed emotions running through my head, I came to the conclusion that this girl nursing at my breast would resolve any issues either of us might have. Thus, I silently dedicated myself to seducing her while looking at her.

Such a scenario was rare. Seducing a girl was so instinctual to me that I never thought about it, anticipated it, or even planned for it. It just happened.

Molly was different, somehow.

As I was about to redirect her attention to periods and masturbation, a car drove in. I carried out my work while Molly watched as I had with the previous client. Two girls came in, one of whom thought she might be pregnant. This one was a “positive,” and happy about it. She said she was 15, although I suspected she was younger.

All the workers were aware that the younger clients lied about their ages, but no one cared. We all did our jobs. I was relieved that she had an older friend who could bring her to the office though, so she would know for sure and not have to continue wondering or in the cases of other girls, worrying.

I emphasized to Molly that she could not talk to anyone about the girls who came into the office, even if she didn’t know them. She said she wouldn’t. I was thankful that the girls were only asked for their first names, so identification would really be impossible anyway. I was also glad that we could share such a “secret,” although it was not a real one.

Soon two more clients arrived, in separate vehicles, both of whom tested “negative.” Somehow the time flew by. Before I realized it, it was time to close the office. Although I didn’t want the evening to end without “something” happening, I was content with making a new friend.

“Will you come back next week?” I asked, as I walked Molly to the door.

“Yeah,” she replied, “if you want me to.”

“Be here at 4 then.” I didn't hesitate.

I watched her as she walked down the sidewalk, fading into the darkness along the poorly lighted street. I imagined an alternative, where I closed the office, locked the doors, pulled the drapes. Then rather than send her away, I would take her in my arms, kissing her fully and firmly on the mouth.

Thoughts of boy dick with pretty foreskin had long passed.

As I walked back into the office, I brushed my clit though my clothes while my fantasy flourished. On the drive home, I masturbated to thoughts of her.