Tasting Candy: Over 60 Erotic Pregnancy Stories

So why did I want to this time? I’d said no to every man I’d met, over and over again. No, I didn’t want to do coke off that stripper’s stomach. No, I didn’t want to see what his cock looked like. No, I definitely didn’t want to join the mile high club.

I licked my lips. Just one more no.

“I’m not really allowed,” I said, and my no sounded more like a schoolgirl telling her boyfriend she’s not supposed to see him anymore. Like it was an inevitability, and I just needed a push.

He frowned a little, and I worried he was too good of a guy to push at all.

He shifted in his seat, looked out the window then back at me again.

“Well I certainly can’t drink by myself. That’d just be depressing,” he remarked so casually. “But I really wouldn’t want to get you in trouble… I mean, not if there’s some way they could find out,” he said, brow arched up at me, in silent query.

“For flights like this it’s just the pilot, the co-pilot and I...” I trailed off, looking back towards the divide.

Why was I being so silly? I could lose my job, just because this gorgeous honey seemed so sweet and aloof compared to my usual fare?

But I couldn’t deny that the things he was doing to my body with only his eyes and his lips were surreal.

All he had to do was sit there, looking so immaculate and gorgeous, such a fine specimen of what a man should be: strong, thoughtful, confident, modest but accomplished. He was the full package.

Yeah, in retrospect it’s no surprise all he had to do was just sit there.

“Well the two of them aren’t likely to come back here any time soon, are they?” he asked, brow raised in question. “And tell you what…” he looked around, a playfully dramatic expression as if we might get caught by some hall monitor at any moment before he leaned in and murmured quietly to me. “If you get in trouble, I’ll speak up for you. And make sure you get at least a few years pay in recompense.”

Now that... didn’t sound so bad.

Not like I hadn’t been offered money before, but not usually for something I truly wanted to do.

I moved towards the back room, and grabbed the finest bottle we had out of the selection of three. Unless there was a special request, we kept the old favourites on board and nothing else.

Another four hours ‘til we crossed the Atlantic Ocean, and already I was losing my mind with wanting to please him. I brought the bottle over to him, uncorking it in an expert manner before pouring up his little plastic champagne glass.

Then he did a surprising thing and took the bottle from me, to pour up a second glass then hand it to me with a bright smile on his face.

“Now, have a seat,” he said, patting the spot beside him so invitingly. “Tell me all about yourself. Because I don’t even know your name yet, miss, but I’m dying to find out,” he remarked, smiling at me in such a way I felt like I might melt into a puddle before him.

My tummy was flipping about with excitement. I hadn’t been so into a guy since high school, and I joined him on the spacious couch, accepting my ‘glass’ with a furtive glance towards the cockpit and back at him.

“It’s Sarah,” I said before taking a quick sip of the champagne. I needed it to soothe my nerves.

“Well Sarah, I’m James. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he remarked with a smile, drinking down some of his champagne as we sat together there on the comfortable sofa. Better than the one I had at home even. “Where are you from? Is it our destination? New York?” he asked, looking me over, not as some rich brat that I was used to on the plane, but as any interested guy did. As if he was just another studly man in a bar who caught sight of me and found what he saw… intriguing.

I shook my head, the champagne already warming my body, making my tongue looser.

“I’m actually from Maine, but I moved to New York a couple years ago for work,” I said with a smile. “It’s a big change. I figured you’d be out in L.A. with the other bigwigs, though.”

The second the words left me, my stomach flipped. Why’d I admit I knew who he was, like just another crazy fan? Stupid, Sarah!

He smiled at me though, like it was no big deal.

“I can’t stand L.A.,” he said so casually before sipping more of his champagne. “Too much sun, too easy of a life. Too fake of people,” he remarked with a half-smile. “Life should be a little trying, you know? Out there, it’s nothing but fake smiles on fake people, all hoping to get a slice of your fame or money. It’s tiresome, and unproductive. I’d be just as well off courting a room full of cardboard cut-outs,” he said with a playful smirk.

“If you ask me,” he added on quickly, leaning in close. “I like real people. Real women, with real lives. Real bodies. Not a persona sculpted to sell themselves.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. He talked almost like he wrote.

Yea, I’d read most of his books as well. I had a feeling once I got back home I’d be reading a lot more.

“You like the fast paced and cutthroat life of New York better?” I asked with a twitch of my lips.