Tasting Candy: Over 60 Erotic Pregnancy Stories

His fingers sank into my fleshy ass cheek, and he swelled inside my raw cunny.

The man who had the entire world, and all he wanted was to take me in such a primal way. My body was trembling, responding to his so acutely. He hit the right tempo, his sac slapping against my clit and threatening to send me over the brink.

But when his fingers wrapped tighter into my hair, tugging on those blond tresses as he went in harder, that was what did it. Maybe I get off on degradation. Whatever it was, I couldn’t stop it as every nerve in my body went on fire. My knees were trembling and quaking, and I’d likely have fallen if I weren’t pinned between his body and the table.

“Sir!” I screamed, because I couldn’t think of his first name at the moment, but I wanted to let him know. Needed to tell him. “I’m cumming!”

But he had to have noticed the way my pussy tensed along his cock, the muscles drawing him in and beckoning him to do the thing he shouldn’t. The thing I shouldn’t want him to do.

I did, though. Oh, how I wanted him to fill me w

ith his cum, to claim me as his. To bind him to me for eternity.

“Cum on my cock, Tish,” he growled, demanding what was already the inevitable. The flood of warm honey coating his length, running down to his sac and adding a wetness to the loud slaps of against me. Though it slowly changed.

As I screamed out my ecstasy, he barreled towards his own. His organ twitched and grew harder inside me, his moans and groans deeper, heavier.

“I’m gonna make you mine, pet,” he growled again, and I knew it was coming. He was cumming. And I didn’t pull away, didn’t fear it. I accepted it as that handsome, powerful man took hold of me and hammered away to his own release, the two of us exploding into a jumble of exploding nerves, the two of us lost to bliss as his virile seed flooded my fertile womb.

The thought, the awareness of what was happening, gave me the sweetest orgasm I could’ve ever dreamed up. I was soaring, my entire body seeming so disconnected and yet connected at the same time.

My throat was soon coarse, my begging and pleading for him to cum in me mixed with cursing and panting and praying for more. For this to never end.

I didn’t want to come down from the high, but as he pumped those last few streams into me, and slowly stilled, I desperately tried to catch my breath.

Mr. Romy stilled atop me, breathing heavily as his tool twitched and spurt its last inside me, and I laid beneath him. So satisfied… flushed and deflowered. But happily so.

He leaned in, kissed my neck beneath my ear, licked up to my earlobe and suckled it softly. He put one of his arms about me and squeezed me tightly as we lay there atop his balcony table.

“Stay with me… in my room,” he husked into my ear lowly. “I’ll keep my promises. I’ll make everything right. Just be mine,” and his plea was so genuine, so needful. He wanted me still, even after having spent his essence inside me.

I trembled, pushing in against him, needing his warmth. The feel of his body against mine, encompassing me.

I brought my hands to his, feeling them as they still gripped my hips, and I shivered gently, because I wanted it. Oh, I wanted it bad.

Before I could stop myself or think rationally, I was nodding.

The story of Mr. Romy and me didn’t end there, though. Even if part of me felt no matter what he said, it would. I was always told men say hasty things in the passion of the moment, but despite how bold his promises to me were… he kept them.

Perhaps it helped that the maid uniform he had made for me needed some altering in just a few short months, to accommodate for the growing bulge in my belly. Or how once I was sleeping with him each night, I could coo such sweet words into his head, and fill him with an appreciation for my feminine gentleness.

Whatever the reasons, when he cradled my pregnant form, with our child fast on its way, I got to do so guilt free. Not only did my father get his job back, but all the old workers did when he opened up a new facility in town, with better wages and safer conditions than ever before.

The irony of the fact that I was into degradation and used it to get others the respect they deserved didn’t go unnoticed. And every mealtime, when I kneel at his side, patiently waiting for the food he lovingly prepared, I appreciate that — and him — a little bit more.

The Fertile Stewardess

Book Themes:

Bareback, Breeding, and Mile High Club

Word Count:

6,245

Flying as attendant for a private jet company got me in with a lot of exclusive people, so that should tell you I’m no stranger to men getting carried away and acting rowdy on a plane. If there’s one group of people more prone to flaunting the rules and misbehaving than the rich and powerful, I haven’t heard of it.

I could tell you about the time I walked on into the cabin to find a rockstar standin’ in the aisle, a beautiful, busty bimbo on her knees sucking him off as half a dozen groupies and band members sat around, watching as they sucked and fucked each other.