Tasting Candy: Over 60 Erotic Pregnancy Stories

It’s not right. But nothing about my feelings for him is right. Suddenly it’s like I have the excuse I’ve been waiting for. All I have to do is let him pull down my pants. It’s not as though it’d be totally indecent. After all, I can’t very well look at my bruised as and see how bad it is.

But I’m embarrassed by how wet I am. Would he be able to tell? What would he do?

My thoughts are rushing through my head, and his rough fingers press into my sides, beckoning me to say yes. To let him be a father and look and see if I’ve really hurt myself. That’s all he cares about, so there’s nothing really indecent going on.

Except for the fact that I’ll definitely use the memory as masturbation fodder in the future.

I finally nod my head and set my mug aside before I shimmy down the couch enough that I can lie totally on my front, with my ass sticking up at him as he sits beneath my pelvis.

“Here we go,” he says, sliding his big hand up over my leg, around the edge of my ass to my hip before coming in to my tailbone. Which, really, is as well as having that powerful hand grasping my rear when you think about it!

He feels so attentively, carefully rubbing at the area, trying to feel if anything is wrong.

“Gonna just tug these down to get a better look,” he says, curling his fingers into the waistband of my yoga pants, peeling them away from my smooth skin to show off some of that pale flesh in front of the fire.

“Hrmmm,” he says, sounding concerned as he feels down over that bare flesh, able to see my red thong like that. “Does this hurt?” he asks.

I don’t even know. I almost feel drunk with excitement and arousal, and it’s pushing all other sensations out. My breathing is so hard it’s embarrassing, and I have to swallow hard just to be able to respond to him.

“Not much,” I say.

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully, bringing his second hand up and tugging down my pants some more until almost my entire ass is hanging out, exposed. He rubs at my flesh, a sort of massage around the tender area, but it’s oh so close to being absolutely scandalous.

“How’s this sweetie?” he asks, and I know he’s trying to make me feel better, giving me a little massage. But it feels sinfully good, is the problem!

I try to tell him that it feels fine, but the word comes out like the lewdest moan, and I instantly blush. I couldn’t help it! He’s turning me on so much I just want to run to my room and get myself off!

He doesn’t stop or pause or slow though, he keeps going, rubbing the tension from my flesh with those powerful hands, going deeper, lower. Until that deep, husky voice of his breaks the silence once more.

“These are very pretty lil’ panties you’ve got on sweetie,” he says in that low gravel of his. “Did a new boyfriend buy these for you?”

Oh God, he noticed! I want to sink into the couch, to disappear in mortification.

“N-no. I, uh... still single!” I say, trying to sound upbeat. Like I’m not half-way to orgasm and just dreaming of his fingers running along the seam of my body.

“Mmm, you must be waiting for the right one,” he says, continuing with his sensual massage, but he trails up higher over my lower back a while, rubbing into that flesh. “Which is good. You’re the prettiest, finest young woman in the world,” he says so dotingly, shifting one leg off the sofa as he works into my muscles and flesh more.

“If I were younger, sweetie… I’d do whatever it took to win your heart,” he declares, licking his lips.

It’s so strange, the contrast of feeling so utterly relaxed, and at the same time, so desperately horny. I tug up my sweater, giving him access to my bare back, but I can’t stop from writhing slightly as he massages me. Part of it is just him hitting tense muscles, but mostly it’s just my need to have something touch against my pussy and calm that throbbing sensation down.

Maybe I can just sneak my hand down for a second and press into my cunny. Maybe that’d be enough for it to stop pulsing with every hard beat of my heart.

“Daddy,” I moan as he rubs a knot out of my back, “You could have anyone you want. You’re not too old.”

“Ohh, if only that were true,” he said to me with a hint of playfulness to his voice. But that seeps away, and he sounds oh so lusty and serious as he rubs lower again, down towards my hips and ass cheeks. “The one girl I want is strictly off limits, sweetie,” he says, his thumbs trailing over the smooth, round swell of my rear. “And no other girl will do,” he rumbles out.

Is he really saying what I want him to say?

I feel like I’m almost going to pass out as my head swoons hard, and my entire body starts to hum with excitement. Does he want me as bad as I want him?

I glance over my shoulder, watching as he stares at my ass, his hands working over it, careful of the bruising flesh. He looks so intent, so needful, and so I dare myself to do it. I snake one of my hands beneath my stomach, working down until my fingertips find the seam of my panties and dip beneath it, over my shaved mons before my middle finger finally finds my clit. I press upon it subtly, but it does nothing to relieve my tension, just ignites it further.

And he watches.

Just watches.

Doesn’t look away. Doesn’t scold me. Doesn’t stop rubbing my flesh. He bites his lower lip and watches my fingers rub my pussy through my panties.