Tasting Candy: Over 60 Erotic Pregnancy Stories

Bareback, Breeding, School Girl Roleplay, and Military Man

Word Count:

3,896

Every step brought another click of those heels, the hallway of the hotel so empty upon the fifteenth floor of the Intercontinental. Gnawing her lower lip, Sylvia slipped the card through the lock, though her hands were shaking so much it didn't register. Tucking back some of her thick blonde

curls, she slid the keycard through again, this time the red light turned green with a beep, followed by the unclicking of the lock.

With a deep exhale, she tried to calm herself, to still her petite body before pushing open the door and stepping inside. Of course he wouldn't be in there, but part of her somehow expected he would be somehow.

Instead, the large room was all to herself. A large king sized bed to the right wall opposite the TV, and there before her the windows overlooking Toronto behind a large desk. She'd stayed there before of course, but it was alone, on a work trip half a year ago.

Stepping inside she left the door unlocked as she rolled her suitcase in. A glance in the bathroom showed her it was neat and tidy as to be expected, and she went in.

Within her tiny chest she could feel her heart beating, thudding noisily as she ran some water and then lightly patted some of the cold spray onto her cheeks, careful of her light makeup. Just a bit of lipstick and eyeliner, but she didn’t wish to ruin it after all.

Looking herself over in the mirror, however, she knew the business outfit had to go for their first encounter. She undid the blazer, poked each button through the blouse beneath, and shed both. Next came the simple white bra, showing her pinkened areolas and stiff little nipples, fast growing aroused from the cool air of the bathroom and thoughts of the rendezvous to come.

She next wriggled her hips as she pushed her thumbs into the skirt, sliding it on down around her rear and to the floor. She took her time, doing it all smoothly, not in a rush. She was too nervous to rush things, worried she'd botch it all. As if a stray thread would ruin everything.

Out of the suitcase she pulled the outfits she'd brought with her. It was something she’d bought a while back, flushing the entire time she was in the store. The new blouse was tighter, more girlish, and less professional. Its white fabric clinging to her tiny upper body. Then came the plaid, pleated skirt. Too short to wear out, it barely covered her pale round bottom.

She twirled about to look at herself from behind. She was too short to see herself fully, but she patted over her ass, making sure all the wrinkles in the pleats were gone.

On the dressing went, as if it were a ritual. Tugging up a pair of white stockings over her slender calves before she heard a noise at the door...

Connor wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there. It could have been seconds, no more than a minute, but that moment seemed to drag on for what felt like an eternity. His head was a closet of ensemble emotions seeking to burst forth, and somehow in the middle of it all, he was relatively calm, almost nonchalant.

That was normal, right? He glanced down at himself, afraid he'd not impress with his attire; freshly returned from serving overseas he had only some casual clothing to wear. Brown desert boots tapped the floor, mostly covered by a loose pair of khakis, the back end of which just barely managed to avoid dragging on the ground; he wasn't one for normally wearing military get-up in public, but the boots were probably the most comfortable thing he owned.

The belt he wore wasn't visible, but he felt like it was suffocating his waist at the moment. He wore a brown jacket, the leather worn but well fitted, under which could be seen a faded shirt; off-white for the most part save for the sun blasted stitching around his breast pockets on his chest. He drew a hand to his cheek, rubbing his face to make sure it was clean shaven, and followed it with one last tussle of his hair, which was also well-kept and short in a military style.

He took one last deep breath, closed his eyes, and exhaled, before letting a friendly, if somewhat devious smile line his lips. He knocked on the door of the hotel room, and did the only thing he could at that point: waited.

She hesitated, frozen not by reluctance but by a worry that if she let herself, she'd race to the door and throw it open like an over-eager child and embarrass herself.

Instead, she forced calm through a moment of concentration then walked over to the door. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself one last time as she peered through the eye-hole, seeing it was him. Just like his pictures. A little more weather-worn, but it only made him more handsome than he was years ago. When they were both too young to do what was right by each other.

Her mouth went dry, and she began to turn the knob. Only then she realized she hadn't completed the outfit, and hadn't put on the black Mary Jane shoes to go with it, nor the little tie.

It’s too late now, she told herself, and pulled open the door.

She meant to greet him with a confident smile, but instead found herself unable to resist tucking her chin down, letting her eyes gaze up at him sheepishly from beneath her long lashes, and those thick blonde curls which fell down into her face.

Without her usual shoes on, though, she seemed even shorter than usual. Her white socked feet twisting upon the wine coloured carpet.

"Hey," she said, her voice soft and airy. "Come on in," she managed, forcing a bit more life into her voice as she found her smile growing despite her anxiousness.

He was frozen there with a look on his face that was somewhere between anxious or friendly, and stupefied. His breath stuck in his throat for a moment before he caught himself staring, hoping to God that his cheeks weren't as red as they felt. Despite the nervousness, he found his voice was still working, and seeing her own reaction to him was about as comforting as he could've hoped.

His smile widened, briefly recalling the stories she'd told him about her school-girl get up. Despite the obvious choice of her attire, somehow he hadn't anticipated it through all his nervous musing. He was laughing on the inside, and it put him at ease. The momentary silence hung between them as she stood waiting, her invitation to enter still looming, and he nodded, taking a step towards her and pulling her into a warm hug.

When he embraced her it did something to her own nervousness. She flung her arms around him, squeezing him tightly in return and feeling that masculine frame against her with warm delight.

"You know, I should've expected the outfit, but you look way sexier in it than I could've imagined." He said it with some joviality, but he was dead serious, his heart racing as he pulled her body against his.

You can prepare yourself for anything, have it all planned out in your head, but nothing ever goes how it's planned, he reminded himself.