Tasting Candy

by Candy Quinn

  He moaned beneath me, that big, mean ol’ Grinch so turned on by my grinding and my filthy words. His patience ran out though, and he lifted me up, carrying me in his thick, well-muscled arms so easily as he laid me out by the fireplace. It wasn’t real of course, but it looked real enough, and gave off a delightful warmth.

  I got to wriggle into the thick fur rug there as he got over me, spread my legs, grabbed his dick and pressed himself back inside me with a low, lewd moan.

  “Yeah I got big sac full of presents for you babe, I’ll make it a whiter Christmas than Santa ever could,” he promised me as he began to pump his hips again, fucking me raw upon the rug.

  And oh, he didn’t know just how true those words were. I wrapped my lithe legs around his waist, bringing him in deeper and deeper as my head went back and I let out a lewd growl. Though as my head tilted back, it gave me the extra thrill of being able to see through the floor to ceiling windows.

  And my smile broadened, my eyes narrowing deviously as Santa caught me fucking Mr. Frost. It was sweet, the way his cheeks turned red, but he couldn’t turn away any more than I could stop moaning.

  But I took comfort, knowing my lover wouldn’t be able to see the jolly old cuckold on his balcony. Santa only appeared to those who truly believed, after all.

  I could enjoy knowing my doughy husband got to watch as my tight little pussy got stuffed so full. Could see the sight of those heavy, cum-laden balls slapping at my red ass as Mr. Frost pounded into me. Those puffy little pink cunny lips of mine now red and stretched taut about that veiny girth. It was so damn lewd, I wished that I could see it from Santa’s perspective for just a bit.

  But being on the receiving end of that dick was too good to give up, and Mr. Frost gave me my jollies. He made my tits jiggle and bounce, my head spin, my voice cry out with louder and louder moans.

  My legs wrapped around him, my nails digging into his flesh as I fluttered my eyes closed. Knowing my husband was watching, knowing that this stranger was taking me raw and hard, it was all too much, and I brought my hand back down to my pussy, rubbing along the delicate bud, rubbing it eagerly.

  “I’m gonna cum all over your cock, Mr. Frost,” I warned, my legs tightening around him. “And then you’re gonna knock me up with your little bastard.”

  That elicited a deep, satisfied moan from the man, making his dick swell within me and his pleasure rise up, bringing him closer to his finale. He was ravenous for me, for doing to me exactly what I’d taunted him with.

  I could see his gorgeous hard body lined in the fire light, orange flames licking across bulging pecs and rock hard abs as his body writhed and arched. He was gorgeous, strong, prime breeding stock, and he was battering me towards my climax as he grunted and groaned, held up over me by one thick, bulging arm as he reached down to grasp my tit and clench it betwixt his strong fingers. The soft yet supple breast flesh bulging between those digits.

  “Cum for me you lil’ slut, ‘cause I’m about to stuff you full whether you do or not,” he growled out.

  His words teased me high, and I rubbed myself so quickly, so desperately. My body was crying out for relief, and he’d worked me up to such a point there was nothing to do but plunge over that precipice as my husband watched. I came on another man’s cock, soaking him with my sweet juices, cunny squeezing him in deep as my scream set the glass to rattle.

  None too soon too, as he followed right after me. The feel of my tightening, clenching pussy milking him as his nuts constricted, and a fire of pleasure shot up his shaft. That big breeding stick of his blasted me with his cum, basting my fertile womb with that rich seed of his.

  Thick torrents of it just kept coming and cumming. Again and again he flooded my depths amid my orgasm with a near endless stream of jism.

  It was the most intense moment of my life! And really left no doubt as to why he was such a bad boy with so many lil’ ones all around the world. With a load that big, he was packin’ enough sperm to breed the nation.

  And that was just what I wanted. I took it all in, grinding my hips and ass into him, body arching and writhing and nipples so hard.

  It took a long while before the haze subsided and I fluttered my eyes open just long enough to see Mr. Claus rubbing one out on the balcony, watching me squirm beneath another man. I smiled before I brought my face back to Mr. Frost’s, mouth meeting his with such passion and intensity.

  We made out there as my husband watched and jerked off, all that rich seed pooled within me. It was the most wonderful time of the year, and when he began to fuck me again, I knew it wasn’t even over.

  It hadn’t been an easy time giving birth to another man’s child. But I knew Santa really got off on the whole thing after all, and he was all rosy cheeked and happy once I popped out another lil’ elf for him.

  Though, how he’d react when I showed back up at Mr. Frost’s place next year? I had no idea.

  Pregnant Brat for Christmas

  Book Themes:

  step-father/step-daughter, barely legal, virgin, breeding

  Word Count:

  5,912

  I can’t believe my luck.

  It’s the holidays and I decide to drive home for Christmas from college, but a snowstorm’s hit and now my car is planted in a snowbank, with the other half lodged in a ditch. So here I am, huddled in my car as the chill sets in.

  And worst of all? My cellphone doesn’t work here, because my stepdad’s place is out in the middle of nowhere and there’s no reception.

  So I’m thinking to myself: do I get out and trudge all the way through a snowstorm to find a place to call for help? Or hope help finds me first?

  The only thing to keep me warm in the meantime is thoughts of seeing my hunky dad at his big old house. The fireplace going in anticipation of my arrival, the tree all decorated, and the smell of familiarity in the air.

  Though I wish there were another fire waiting for me too, but hey… those aren’t the kind of thoughts a girl’s supposed to think about her daddy.

  “Screw it,” I say, and give in at last. I’m gonna have to trek out into the snow and try to find a place to make a call or at least make it to the next house on these rural roads. It’s either that or freeze to death in the storm.

  I bundle up tight, prepare myself… but oh hell, once that door is open and the chill, icy winds blow in I know there was no preparing for this! The gusts of wind are enough to tear through my winter jacket and I almost can’t breathe!

  I slam the door shut again as I shiver, curse myself, but then…

  Hey, Christmas miracles do come true I guess, because I see some lights coming down the road, cutting through the snow. I blink my lights, hoping to get their attention, and they come to a slow halt. I can’t make out details but I think someone’s getting out of the vehicle and I roll down my window.

  “Dammit Trixie,” comes my father’s voice through the thick wind as he leans in, his furlined hood surrounding his face. “You can’t drive for shit, can you?” he says, his handsome face spread into a wide grin at me.

  “Dad!” I say almost leaping out my window so that I can wrap my arms around him. “It’s not my fault you still live out in the sticks! No one can drive right on these roads.”

  I’m just so happy, though, that I press my mouth to his cheeks, his light stubble teasing my soft lips. I can’t believe how good he looks. He’s beefed up a lot since I last saw him, even, and his shoulders are strong and broad beneath my arms.

  He chuckles and reaches in, hugging me back before pulling away and looking over the car.

  “I think this one might be lodged in too deep for even my truck to pull out,” he says, hand on my door. “Come on Trixie, we’ll call a tow truck once the storm’s over. You’re comin’ with your dad for now,” he says, smiling warmly as he opens up the door for me.

  Unfortunately, everything they say about girls in the city is true. Well, at least the part about never buying proper footwear for the winter, as my four inch heels at
test to. They looked so slick in the store window I just had to have them, but when I try to slam my door shut, I instead fall right on my ass with the motion.

  “Oww!” Crap, my ass is going to be bruised tomorrow. There must be a sheet of ice under all this snow!

  “Shit,” my dad says and he bends down in the blowing snow and picks me right up without hesitation. “It is just not your day, sweetie,” he says with a smile. My dad, to the rescue again. He carries me over to his truck, pulling open the door even as he holds me up by some clever hand trick, and lays me in.

  “Now sit tight.” He gives me a kiss to the forehead and a wink before he shuts the door and rounds about, hopping into the driver’s seat. “Gonna take this drive back slowly,” he says as the truck revs up with a roar.

  His truck is so warm, and still has the smell that I remember from growing up of natural cedar. Instantly it puts me at ease, and I start to relax. My ass hurts like I wouldn’t believe, and my heart is still racing from the fear of being trapped out here at night, so neither of us realize that we’re leaving behind my luggage.

  We’re just relieved to be back together, and I lean on him as we begin the drive, my head rested on his arm.

  Daddy gives me a kiss to the top of my head as he drives, taking us on down the dark country roads, through the blinding snow. We can’t see more than a few feet in front of the vehicle, but somehow he manages to navigate us through it all safely until we arrive back at his place. That massive, rustic home hidden among the trees along the base of a hill.

  “C’mon doll, we’ll get you nice and warmed up inside,” he says with a bright grin, his handsome, broad-jawed face looking so good when he smiles at me like that.

  He rounds the truck again, and once more, just picks me right up off the seat and carries me inside.

  “Not about to let you walk after your tumble,” he declares as he carts me on inside, and immediately that wave of heat washes over me from the fire. And the silence of the big home settles in around me, such a change from the howl of the cold winter winds.

  He has it decorated just how I remember, with long strings of garland and white lights and red ribbons. It’s just how Christmas should be, I think, and it takes my mind off my throbbing rear.

  Especially when he says, “Now, let’s get you some hot chocolate with marshmallows!”

  He sets me down on the couch, and I take off my jacket and boots. He puts them in the front stoop before going into the kitchen and I hear him rattling around as the fire crackles.

  Being back here fills me with so many emotions, but seeing him again... my mind is in a far dirtier place. I’ve had fantasies about him for way too long, and being away from him at college did nothing to temper them.

  But then I remember!

  “Shit! Dad, your present is in my car, and the tow truck workers aren’t going to go get it on Christmas Eve!”

  He emerges from the kitchen not long after, two big mugs in hand and a broad smile, unbothered by my news. And more than that, he’s stripped down to his jeans and plaid shirt, both of which hug his thick, well-muscled form. From his broad shoulders on down to his groin, and those thick thighs. He’s a woodsman, and never stopped working, so all that muscle showed through.

  “Don’t worry about that,” he says, offering me the mug as he stands over me. “I’ve got my favourite girl in the whole wide world back with me, that’s all I’ve been pining for this year,” he declares with such warmth.

  It’s just too bad he has no idea how much I’ve been pining for him as well. But it’s wrong, and I keep trying to push those feelings away, but when he joins me on the couch and places his hand on my thigh in a comforting manner, I can’t help but yearn for him to stroke upwards. To touch my heated pussy and stoke my fires for a change.

  Instead, I take the hot chocolate and try to forget my worries in the steaming hot cup of sugary goodness. He joins me on the couch, and I stretch my legs out over his lap.

  “I don’t know how you stand it here all alone.”

  “Yeah,” he says, that big, hard hand of his stroking over my thigh, “just not the same without my favourite girl.” He smiles at me big and wide, squeezing my leg as he takes a big mouthful of hot chocolate and drinks it down. “Still wish I could’ve talked you into stayin’ out here with me,” he says with a cheeky grin and a playful wink. “This place needs more life in it after all. That’s what I made it for. Intended to fill her with a dozen kids, and now there’s just my poor lil’ accident prone daughter.”

  I laugh, but honestly... I’ve been regretting going to college. It isn’t what I expected, and it’s costing my dad so much money. I don’t even know what I want to be when I graduate, and I feel more alone than ever in the big city.

  This quiet, simple life is what I really crave, and I turn to look at him. I’m sure my dark hair is a tangled mess, and my ruby lipstick is probably all worn off on the ride, but he’s looking at me like I’m the prettiest girl around.

  “Why didn’t you find someone else, then? After mom died...”

  He looks down, but his smile doesn’t vanish. He holds onto it, like he holds onto me, squeezing my leg and rubbing up a little higher.

  “You’re the only girl for me now, Trixie,” he says, flashing me that broad smile that should be on billboards and movie screens. His light dark stubble making his broad-jawed face look so good. He’s the picture of what a man should be, big, strong, warm and loving. “Savin’ all my love for you,” he says, leaning over and placing a kiss right on my hip.

  But I swear I felt a little something extra in that gaze of his as he smiled at me. Oh, there was love, and plenty of it! But it wasn’t entirely the kind of fatherly love I was used to.

  I shouldn’t want him. I look at him, and I keep telling myself that I shouldn’t want him to spread my legs, to grind against me, to kiss me lower than just upon my hip. I want him like I’ve never wanted a man before, and maybe that’s because he is all man. He’s the picture of masculinity, and he even smells like the fresh outdoors and hard work.

  I lick my lips free of the marshmallow sugar, and tilt my head back against the armrest. My red sweater clings to my body and it’s making me feel too hot, but when I shift to try to find a more comfortable position, the pain in my ass makes me cry out again.

  I see my daddy’s brow furrow, and he reaches over, placing his mug upon the coffee table.

  “Let me take a look at that, sweetie. You can really hurt yourself in winter, especially if you damage your tail bone,” he remarks, taking hold of one of my ankles with his big strong hands, guiding me onto my side as he slides his hand up my leg to my waist band, those intensely dark eyes of his staring at my round rear.

  I drove up in yoga pants, and having him stare at me like this is... exciting. But the idea of him tugging down my pants and seeing my red, translucent thong...

  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.