Tasting Candy: Over 60 Erotic Pregnancy Stories

“There is snow in Connecticut, Casey,” I laugh, and she rolls her eyes as she takes me by the hand to drag me to the nearest bus.

“Okay, yeah, but this is European snow. It’s nicer.” Her tone is tongue-in-cheek, and I giggle back at her.

We take the bus to our hostel — a crummy little place that looks like it has seen better days, but hey, it’s a place to crash for the week, and that’s about the only time we’ll be needing it. We get a chance to really freshen up, shower, and change into decent clothes after meeting up with some of the other people we’re sharing the place with. They’re Casey’s friends, but we don’t really spend much time chatting. Casey is eager to get us out on the town.

With touched-up makeup, I’m feeling good as we head out. The dark gray peacoat and black knit scarf I bought just for this trip is covering my dark red crushed velvet dress and thick leggings that make me feel like I’m back home again. The winter chill only guts me a little bit when we step back out into the busy streets.

“You cannot be serious — already?” I laugh a few minutes later, when Casey

is dragging me toward what I can recognize as a pot bakery.

“We’re in fucking Amsterdam, Mother Superior,” she teases me, pushing open the door to the place and letting the aroma wash over us. “I told you this was gonna be my first stop!”

I roll my eyes, but there’s a smile playing across my lips. I kind of like the chance to cut loose, and Casey’s the perfect person to make that happen. Can’t imagine what it’s like to live life through her eyes.

Maybe this is the chance to be someone else for a little while, though?

The bakery is packed with tourists like us. I glance around, and I try to hide a smile at the fact that there isn’t a local in sight. After a battle to the front of the line, we walk away with my very first edible — a huge cupcake, big enough for two people, easily.

“I was worried they’d ‘water down’ the cheaper stuff, so I saved up some tips from work to really splurge on this,” Casey gushes. Without so much as waiting to find a seat, we dig into the pot-infused pastry hungrily. I make a face at the very distinct taste, but it’s not as bad as I was anticipating, so we don’t hold back. I realize as we’re devouring the thing that it’s the first thing we’ve had to eat since landing, so it’s gone in a matter of seconds.

“So...what now?” I ask as Casey disposes of the wrapper, then bursts out laughing at me as we head back outside into the crisp air.

“You are the worst Art major ever, Jess,” she said. “It takes like half an hour to kick in. Just relax — let’s go kill some time before the concert!”

I giggle, and we head down the road alongside the canals to look at the boats.

As Casey points out a few of the really beautifully designed ones on our walk, I find myself finally getting swept up by the city. There’s a really specific kind of charm to it I can’t pinpoint, but it’s so distinctly belonging to the city that I feel incredibly lucky to have gotten here.

That’s when I realize the cupcake is kicking in, and it just so happens to be while we pass by the outskirts of the Red Light District.

Casey turns to point it out to me, but I descend into a fit of giggling, and she starts laughing at me in turn as we try to catch our breaths.

“Should we go in?” Casey finally manages, her eyes drifting to the nearest row of buildings with a bunch of lewd signs hanging outside them. It isn’t all advertised for men, either, I see to my surprise. There are signs sporting ripped, muscular men that look like they’re modeled after Greek statues.

I bite my lip, considering it for a moment, and Casey grins brightly at me.

“You do want to, you little perv!”

My eyes widen, and I punch her in the shoulder as we break down laughing again. “You’re the one who suggested it!”

“Oh my god, you need to get laid, girl,” she laughs, and I feel myself blushing furiously in the cold air, glancing at a few of the people passing by us.

“Jeeze, Casey, wanna say that any louder?” I hiss, but I can’t hide the smile that’s making my face sore as she covers her mouth with a hand.

“Okay, okay, okay, seriously,” she finally says as she gathers herself. “Maybe tomorrow. We’ve got to head to the venue if we don’t want to be in the back row — besides,” she adds, tapping her purse, “the District is nice, but I uh, might have looked at some of the price tags on those studs, and it’s a little over our pay grade.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, putting a hand on my hip and tilting my head. “Sounds like someone’s shy.”

“More like someone wants to pay rent!” she laughs, and we take each other by the arm as we head off toward the venue.

Privately, I do kind of wish we had time and money to stop by, but I’m also a little relieved that we don’t. It’s a weird mix of emotions. Partly from the fact that, well, I’ve never done anything like what the Red Light District offers.

The fact that I’m a virgin is something I’ve guarded pretty well over the years. It’s kind of weird for a college girl like me, especially an Art student, but I guess I’ve just never felt that comfortable around most people. Not in that way, at least.

Maybe it’s the pot, or maybe it’s just the magic of the city, but the more I think about it, the hornier I feel while I’m here. Something I hadn’t considered about Europe is that there are a lot of hot guys here. And I mean a lot. Every time we pass one of those tall, fit-looking guys, I feel my heart racing.

I’m going to be in trouble at the concert. Too late to back out now, though. This is happening. And I’m gonna enjoy it.