Tasting Candy: Over 60 Erotic Pregnancy Stories

“But I was so hopin’ to make some lucky ladies Christmas a white one,” he said, looking me over, arms reaching out and helping himself to grasping my ass. Such a naughty boy he was. “If I’m gonna stay in, I’ll need some special company,” he remarked in a deep husk that was almost a growl.

“Lucky you, then,” I giggled, backing into his penthouse apartment. Oh, all the naughty things he had to do to get it, to get his millions. But I wanted a bad boy. Santa was as good as they came, and couldn’t ever be naughty. I figured that was just him paying lip service at our nuptials.

I wasn’t wearing panties beneath my dress, but I was wearing a rather fabulous bra, and I licked my lips. “Though I’m still torn on what I want for Christmas,” I pouted.

“There’s so many choices, after all. A nice pearl necklace... Some snowballs... A cream pie? But I’ve been told that I’m not going to get anything, because I’ve been a very, very bad girl,” I finished, nodding my head glumly.

“Well you’re in luck,” he said to me as he followed me into his penthouse, the lights coming on around us automatically. “I specialize in bad girls, and giving them exactly what they need,” he declared, pursuing me on in with that hungry, lusty look to his face. He was a predator!

“Starting with a nice stiff… drink,” he remarked, veering off towards the bar, where all the makings of eggnog awaited him.

I followed after him in my towering stilettos, my long legs carrying me easily. I knew I was pretty hot, when I wanted to be, and when I wasn’t bundled up in a parka. Santa had good taste, if nothing else.

I licked my lips as I watched him pour up the eggnog with a hefty dose of bourbon in it, glancing around his expansive apartment. It was nice. Too nice for one bachelor, but I wasn’t going to complain.

“No cookies left out for Santa?”

“Well, y’see the thing is,” he offered me the drink, taking a sip of his own eggnog, “I kinda like to save all the delicious treats for myself.” And then he gave a rather pointed, randy look to me that made it quite clear what sort of cookies and treats he had in mind.

“You’re a damn tasty lookin’ treat as is, aren’t ya?” he remarked with a smack of his lips, walking back around the bar to lean against it and size me up.

I took my drink, sipping it with a prolonged look at him over the rim of my glass, my emerald eyes still sparkling with sugar plum fairies.

“Mmm, you have no idea,” I said seductively, licking around the rim of my mouth as I stared at him, my hand once more going to his chest. “I’m made of sugar, spice, and everything oh-so-nice.”

He looked me over again, and just couldn’t seem to take it. With a shake of his head he gave a deep laugh that shook his rock-hard chest beneath my hand.

“Just who sent you anyhow? Was it Mr. Betrand? Or was it—” his look shifted, and he downed the rest of his drink, laying it aside on the bar before he stripped off his jacket. “You know what? Never mind. Who gives a fuck? You look like a party girl who’s ready to make her lord cum, am I right?”

“Mhm,” I said, fingers running along his chest, feeling him out. “But I’ve been a naughty little girl. You might have to punish me first. My husband doesn’t know I’m with you.” I grinned, though. Santa had to know. He knew everything, and if he really wanted to, he could help.

But he’d picked me to be his bride for a reason. He picked me from the naughty list, after all.

He looked down at me steadily as he reached to his belt, unbuckling the fine Italian leather instrument and pulling it from its hoops around his waist. He reached to my hands and guided them to the bar as he got around behind me.

“Stay right there,” he said firmly, using his foot to guide my heels apart. “Don’t move, or else your lashings are gonna have to get worse, huh?” He said so saucily, snapping the leather together in threat that made me twinge with the threat of what was to come.

He lifted my skimpy little skirts, and the first smack of that black leather came fast and hard across my two ass cheeks. A loud crack that filled his spacious apartment.

Even I was surprised at the spark, the jolt that went through me.

Oh, yes!

I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed this. My legs spread, my shaved pussy peeking at him as I bent over. I could already feel myself growing wet, the silver bells tingling behind my gaze. It was sublime, and I pushed my round ass towards him, increased punishment be damned!

“You a

re a very, very naughty girl,” he remarked, eying my bare slit with such lust. “No wonder you ended up at my door,” he whipped my ass again, the leather lancing pain across both cheeks as he followed it up with another. Then another.

“Mm, no,” he began, licking his lips as his black pants tented with arousal. “Only way a naughty girl like you is getting a present this Christmas is by being even naughtier still.”

And oh, I so wanted to unwrap his package. Even on the naughty list it was supposed to be legendary, and even as I cried out from the lashings, I was getting wetter. So wet. Thoughts of him pushing that cock into me started dancing in my head, making me moan so lewdly.

My ass was already turning red, the strips of his belt leaving their kiss against my flesh.

He ran his palm over my stinging ass, feeling out the heat that had only grown with his lashings. He licked his lips and landed a spank there, adding to the heated pain that ran through my flesh.

“What a red little ass you’ve got now. Let’s hope it lights our way tonight, huh?” He said, letting his fingers curl down to slide over my puffy cunny lips, feeling the slick warmth that had built up over that scandalously bare slit.