Tasting Candy: Over 60 Erotic Pregnancy Stories

WIth a shrug of his shoulders he said, “So what? You’re eighteen now. High school’s behind you, and you can do what you want. Besides” —he gave her a cocky, knowing grin— “she did it when she was even younger than you. I should know, I advised her to do the same back then.”

His thumb trailed along her lower lip, pushing the moist morsel down as he leaned in close to her, those green eyes of his seeming fiery with desire. “If it’ll ease your mind, after you come stay with me, I’ll go over and calm her down some. How’s that sound?”

She swiped her tongue along the salty, textured pad of his thumb, staring at him intensely.

Regardless of what transpired in this classroom, she knew that she would flunk out before the year was through.

And she wanted him so bad.

With his thumb still between her full lips, she murmured, “Promise?”

She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, seeing and feeling her taste his digit exciting him even further. “Promise,” he said, smoothly withdrawing his hand to reach behind him and grab a notepad. He jotted something on it then handed it to her. “Here’s instructions to my place. Nice and detailed. Can’t be seen giving you a ride home yet, doll, so you come on over after class and I’ll start teaching you the only stuff that’ll ever matter to you.”

He stood up then, dangling that piece of paper before her, a commanding look on his face that said it was no longer an option. The choice was made.

She grabbed for it eagerly.

Brittany never went home, but straight to his place, following the directions on his note.

It led her to a quiet neighbourhood, and then right up to his house, which was a lovely place. It was a bit nicer than a teacher typically had, but then he had a wife before, seperated now, so it must’ve been bought then.

His car was in the driveway, and she recognized it immediately. It was a nice, silver Lexus that looked only a couple years old.

Heading on up to the door, she rang the bell. She was a bit nerv

ous, she had to admit. She’d never done anything quite like this, though she had thought about it so often. Fantasized about following him home one night or hiding away in his backseat, just waiting to pounce on him in private.

She’d fixed up her lipstick and straightened her skirt, but still she stood in those Mary Janes, the navy skirt that just grazed her white knee high-stockings, and her pressed white blouse. She knew it showed off the red, lacy bra beneath if anyone stared hard enough, and it always made her wet to think about.

To know that the boys and men around her were going to their rooms with the teasing glimpses of her cleavage and thighs on their mind.

It felt like an eternity, but a few moments later he appeared there before her, opening up the door and welcoming her in.

“Come on in, babe,” he said to her with such a casual air of confident control, gesturing her up the stairs to his living room. His home was well furnished inside, the living room nice and big with a bar on one end. She noted his sleeves were pulled back, showing his thick, bulging forearms, the veins protruding prominently.

She nearly stumbled as she stared, but forced her way up, slowly.

She knew what he could see if he followed just the right distance behind. Those little flashes of milky flesh, so tender and ripe.

“Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne.”

He never corrected her, never told her to call him anything else, but after staring up her skirt at the round swells of her ass cheeks as she climbed those stairs, he then very casually placed his hand upon her hip. “I’ll get you a drink,” he said, his strong fingers sliding down over the curve of her rear and giving her backside a squeeze.

She didn’t bother suppressing her moan.

It was a slow, purposeful gesture, and he then walked over to the bar, taking out some vodka and a few other drinks as he went about mixing something for her. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing around the room, with its two large, plush sofas around a beautiful fireplace and TV; it was obviously meant for entertaining a large crowd.

“Oh, the parties I could have here,” she said appreciatively, walking towards one of the couches and taking a seat, crossing her legs at the knee, and staring at him. It was almost like she was seeing him for the first time, her eyes traveling up his body with slow, steady purpose.

She popped open one of the buttons on the top of her blouse, revealing more of that hidden cross as it teased between her cleavage.

As he mixed their drinks he looked across the room at her, a wry smile upon his face. “There’ll be plenty of parties here, Brittany, and you’ll be here for ’em all from now on.” He was so purposeful and matter-of-fact about it, even as his words dripped with heavy sexual meaning. “Your mom used to be a real party girl too. Wasn’t how I met her, but it was how I got to know her way back when.”

Brittany couldn’t help but feel a bit curious, and almost relieved, to hear him say that. It was comforting to know that she wasn’t... broken. She’d always looked up to her mom. She always worked hard, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye.

Still, she found it a bit odd for her teacher to be talking about her mother in such a... sexual setting.

“Are you still close?”