Have you ever ended up in a situation where you don't quite know how it started, or how it happened, just that it did start, it did happen, and it was pretty damned amazing? It happened to me. I still don't quite know how I ended up fucking an eighteen year old I met taking my kid to school, but somehow it happened and somehow I did.
Her name was Molly. I'd seen her a few times, but never really taken any notice of her, to be honest. She wasn't stunningly gorgeous, she rarely displayed any skin, she seemed quiet and bookish. I knew her mother, Karen, quite well, she was a bit of a secret fantasy of mine. Molly was the eldest daughter, there was a middle son a couple of years younger, and then a gap of eight years to the youngest daughter jokingly referred to as her 'birthday night accident!' Her youngest child went to the same school as my daughter. That's how we met, waiting at the school gates at the end of the day.
Molly was at college, planning on going to university to study something involving business. She'd finished college early one afternoon, and joined her mother in coming to collect her younger sister. They were chatting away, I wasn't really paying any attention at all, when suddenly Molly asked me a question about university life. I'd mentioned a few weeks earlier that I'd been to university, hated it so much I dropped out and Karen had asked me to talk to Molly about the things to avoid.
As I turned to Molly to ask her to repeat the question, it gave me the chance to really look at her for the first time. She was a little shorter than me, around 5'6'', I think. She wore a white vest top, cut a little lower than I'd seen in my peripheral vision, I spotted a lovely little freckle just peeking out from underneath the thin white material. Her black bra straps were clearly visible over her shoulders. A vision of ejaculating all over her tits flashed into my mind. Without thinking, I started flustering, red and embarrassed. I mumbled something incoherent about not studying something because she thought she should, but to go and do a subject that she'd actually enjoy and be passionate about.
My advice lead to her turning back to her mother in triumph, saying my advice was exactly what she'd been saying all along, to her mother rolling her eyes. I decided not to get involved in that argument, but instead, to take the opportunity to really check Molly out - discreetly, of course, I'm a gentleman. Her jeans were loose cut, so it was difficult to really work out much about her legs, but her ass pushed right up against the material, firm and proud. She was thin, in a sporty, lean way. There was a hint of a muscular frame underneath the loose white top. Facially, she really wasn't anything special at all - she had mousy brown hair, loosely scraped back in a ponytail, small round-rimmed glasses and a couple of gaps in her teeth, but that body made up for it. Don't get me wrong, I'm no Brad Pitt myself, but given any whiff of an opportunity, I'd definitely be up for making a fool of myself and being rejected out of sight. Or so I thought.
The following day, Molly was at the school on her own. I arrived and stood in my usual spot, just underneath the tree by the gate. It was a prime spot, shaded in the summer, sheltered from the rain in the autumn and winter. Molly saw me, and came over. I watched her approach, drinking in the view. She'd made an effort with her hair and make-up. Gone were the unkempt hair and glasses, replaced with tasteful eye-liner, red lipstick and contact lenses. Her brown hair been straightened and framed her face beautifully. She was wearing a red shirt, with the top two buttons undone, a pair of dark green shorts that showed off her legs, white socks pulled up to the knee and black baseball boots. The change was remarkable, and I felt a slight stirring my groin as she got closer. That little freckle was hiding tantalisingly just out of sight.
'Hi,' I said as soon as she got close. 'You okay?'
She smiled, shyly. 'I think so. I just dumped my boyfriend. He was an idiot, you know? So I'm not that bothered.'
'Sorry to hear that,' I lied. 'What makes him an idiot, if you don't mind me asking?'
Molly shot me a sideways glance. Did I see the hint of a smile?
'A few things. Kept ignoring me to play videogames, ignored me on nights out, and he was just terrible at sex. Barely a fuck worthy of the name.'
If I had any kind of coolness, I would have replied with a glib 'Yeah, well, maybe you need someone experienced to show you how it's done' or maybe 'you need a man, not a boy', something along those lines. Instead, I gulped, coughed and snorted, in that order. I kept coughing. There were tears coming out of my eyes, there was snot, there was shame, and lots of it. Molly looked at me in amusement, waited for me to collect myself and asked if I was okay. All I could do was nod in shame, and thank the good Lord above that at that moment, school let out and the playground was swarming with children. I grabbed my daughter and escaped.
I didn't see Molly again for about a week, and I was glad of it. I was finding that I couldn't stop thinking about her though. Her forwardness in talking about sex, her legs, that little freckle just peeking out from her cleavage. I found myself rethinking our conversation, kicking myself repeatedly for not having a suave comeback for her chatter, and promised myself endlessly that if the opportunity presented itself I'd just be cooler, more James Bond and - most importantly - I wouldn't be myself.
I had the day off work the next time I saw her. The weather had turned, clouds hung low in the morning sky, with the threat of rain ever-present. She appeared, wearing jeans, hiding those legs and ass, a pink raincoat that just hinted at her breasts, and hair loosely spilling around her shoulders. She was wearing her small glasses again, and a smile as she saw me and came over once the children had gone into class.
'Play it cool,' I told myself. 'Just be cool!'
'Hi!' she greeted me cheerfully. 'How come you're not in a suit?'
'Day off,' I replied, glad I'd managed to get a coherent sentence out. 'All I've got to do all day is sit on the sofa and watch TV. And do the washing-up.'
'Sounds great,' she replied. 'I've got a media lecture this morning, and then a business economics class. I know what I'd rather be doing.'
I laughed. 'There's plenty of room on my sofa if you wanted to skip your classes... I wouldn't even make you do any washing up.'
She laughed, and raised an eyebrow at me. 'You usually go around propositioning young, impressionable ladies?'
My immediate reaction is to start blustering and plead innocence, but I think if I ever have a shot with Molly, this is it.
I smile at her. 'How's your boyfriend? Back with him yet?'
'God, no! I told you, he was too immature, and just really bad at everything. Talking, being normal, sex. Everything.'
I took a deep breath, and went for it. 'Maybe you need an older guy to teach you a thing or two. I can talk, I'm fairly normal, and well... I'm pretty good at the other thing too.'
Molly licked her lips, and looked me up and down. 'You just want to see my freckle again.'
This time, I can't hide my embarrassment. 'Shit! You noticed?'
She laughs, triumphantly. 'Course I did. And I saw you looking at my bum afterwards. You're really not as cool as you think you are.'
