Tasting Candy

by Candy Quinn

  In all my years I’d never masturbated. Oh, I’d give it a try a few times, but I had no idea what to do with it all down there, and never got much out of it. But Bo? Oh, he was a master alright. He worked me to such a high so fast, and pretty soon I was undulatin’ and flailin’ around against him as my pleasure mounted.

  I was outta control. My limbs, all my nerves, my muscles, they were all actin’ on their own accord as I screamed out his name over and over again. I had to gasp for breath and then everything came crashing down on me all at once and my mind went blank.

  It was like nothing existed except for pleasure.

  Bo was a master of my body, doin’ things with it I never dreamt of, and then… then he joined me in absolute bliss. That big, hulkin’ man pounded into me, his heavy balls slappin’ against my ass right up until moments before he blew his load.

  His hands tightened on my breast and hip, and he buried his big, thick cock deep into me as it began to twitch and spew its thick cream. All that virile seed floodin’ my cunny, fillin’ me up as he moaned aloud and I squealed and whimpered. The two of us lost in our orgasms as he fucked me raw and bred me.

  He was claiming me for his own, and I’d never been happier. My arms tightened around his neck and my breasts smushed against his chest as my pussy milked his thick cock. Our bodies were acting as nature intended, and my nails dug into his neck as I cried out his name again.

  “You feel so good,” I whimpered, my throat sore from all that screaming I’d been doing.

  We came to a halt together finally, the two of us stillin’ as he kissed at my neck and held me fondly.

  “You feel the best,” he responded in a gravelly husk, those two big hands feelin’ me up, holdin’ me close. Then slowly, he began to pull back, but he weren’t done yet, he wanted more. More of me. But it weren’t to be, sad to say.

  Just as I was moanin’ from him startin’ to fuck me again, I saw the sight of my aunt’s big red truck tearin’ down the dirt road towards the farm again.

  “Aw shit,” I said. “She’s comin’!”

  And my phrasin’ confused Bo a second, before he caught on.

  “Shit!” he said, and the two of us had to disentangle and get to dressin’. Although, I was to have a sticky mess in my panties for the rest of the days, thanks to Bo’s gift.

  But it was worth it for the big grin it put on my face thereafter.

  Was it worth it all around?

  Well, my pa sure as shootin’ wouldn’t have said so at first. But well… once he gets to know the lil’ one growin’ in me, I think he’ll change his mind.

  Bo and I are together more officially now. He hasn’t proposed yet, but I have a feelin’ that’s coming. He’s been squirreling away more of his money lately and picked up some odd jobs too. And every time he looks at me, it’s with this light in his eyes, this way he has about him.

  The fire still hasn’t died out, though losin’ out on the thrill of sneakin’ around was a bit of a shame. But as I looked at him, choppin’ wood for the winter, I still felt my stomach flutter with butterflies. He was the one.

  The Fertile Foreign Exchange

  Book Themes:

  Barely Legal, Breeding, Creampie, and Foreign Exchange Student

  Word Count:

  4,391

  Sending my son off onto a foreign exchange program had to be the best decision of my life. Though I had no idea when I signed up for it, it’d lead me to the most intensely erotic moments of my life.

  Nope, when I said goodbye to my son, I thought it was to have to put up with another terror of a young man, looking to cut loose in his college years in a whole new country. Instead, when the time came to pick up Aren from the airport, I was greeted with the most breathtaking of sights.

  It wasn’t some scruffy Scandinavian punk coming up to me, but the most delicate looking of beauties I’d laid eyes upon.

  Then there was me, standing there with that sign, speechless as she approached and removed all doubts.

  Her smile could melt an iceberg with those rosy lips, and the fairest skin I’ve ever seen. There wasn’t a freckle anywhere to be seen, those blue eyes crystal clear and blonde hair so bright.

  I found myself fantasizing about touching it, reaching out and grabbing one of those braided pig tails, but I resisted the urge.

  Instead I returned her smile as she pulled her pink suitcase up next to her.

  She wore a summer dress even though it was only May, and still admittedly chilly. Her shoulders were bare, the yellow fabric accenting her long legs and nipped waist.

  “Are you Mr. Chandler?” she asked in that accented voice of hers.

  “That I am,” I said a little delayed, dumbstruck by her beauty. “Aren?” I asked, even as I reached out to alleviate the young woman’s burden. Hell, she could’ve been the wrong person entirely and I’d still have helped her heft that suitcase out of the airport, just as an excuse to prolong our encounter.

  She nodded, her beautiful face dipped from me for a moment, giving me a chance to look over the large swell of her chest.

  When she caught my eye again with her baby blues, I swear she’d caught me, her skin pinkening just a little before she relinquished her suitcase to me, her index finger brushing over my coarser digit.

  “I’m looking forward to staying with you,” she said finally.

  I was doubly unsure of how to respond to that, my mind so wrapped up in that gorgeous young lady, her pristine skin and seeming sweetness. I lifted her bag and gave her a nod and a bright smile.

  “It’ll be just the two of us, so you shouldn’t have to worry about time for study or getting to know the country,” I said, but the only thing my mind was on was how I’d get to spend the next few months with this beauty.

  And how I might even be able to accomplish something more than merely spending our time together.

  After all, it was the expectation that I’d be spending a lot of time with her, showing her around, teaching her all about America. Driving her wherever she needed to go...

  I couldn’t help my growing bulge, or my widening grin, as I led her to my car.

  The drive back was a struggle to keep myself in check and to summon up all those skills of casual flirtation, which had atrophied in my time with my ex-wife. But when we got back to my spacious home, I took her on up to the spare bedroom, which had been prepared for her arrival.

  “Here you go,” I said, pushing open the door, showing her the queen sized bed, the simple yet elegant furniture and drapes. “Had I known I was getting a beautiful young lady to stay with me, I would have made sure it prettier itself to compliment you,” I remarked, laying down her suitcase at the foot of the bed.

  Her giggle was like music as she padded into the room. She was barefoot, now, her legs not hidden beneath stockings or tights. It was just nude, honest flesh, as she felt the cold, hardwood, beneath her feet.

  “It’s beautiful!” she said earnestly, her arms going out as she did a spin, revelling in the space.

  Yet it gave me a chance to revel in how her skirt flew up, unveiling more of that pristine, milky flesh.

  I couldn’t help but grin like a fool at that sight, she was stunning, happy, like a cheerful nymph that frolicked about my home, making it feel alive again.

  “My room’s right across the hall,” I said pointing to the other door. “So if ever you need anything during the night, you know where to find me,” I explained with a smile, wanting her so badly to disturb me with a very particular kind of nightly need.

  “So with that,” I said, rubbing my hands together, “you hungry?”

  That was how we started out, and luckily the skies were bright and sunny, so she spent little time studying in the face of asking me to take her out and show her around. Chauffeuring a beautiful young minx like her about was a sweet pleasure.

  She was always so meek, so willing to go along with my suggestions. I always wanted to take it a step further, but the sense of wrongness held me back. Sure, she
was a beautiful young woman, but she was under my care. A surrogate daughter for a few months that I was supposed to look after and protect.

  And with her kindness, it seemed she needed protection. She was always asking for coin to hand to the beggars, for an extra sandwich for our picnics so that she could share with anyone who looked to be in need. They stuck out to her, she said, and didn’t find it fair that we could have so much while others had so little.

  It all changed, though, when we caught a burglar in the house.

  Arriving home to the dark and finding a huge, intimidating man in my house wasn’t the sort of thing either of us were expecting after a day at the museum.

  By rights that should’ve been terrifying for me. I didn’t own a gun and I wasn’t a violent man. But something came over me then, and my instincts as a man to protect sweet Aren took the fore, keeping any fear for myself at bay.

  I leapt at the man before his surprise was up, and I managed to grab a hold of him and force him to the floor. Like I said, I’m not a violent man, but I keep fit and in shape, and so I was able to get him down and keep him there despite his struggles. There was little of an altercation, and the burglar managed to only get a few smacks at me before it was done and over with, and I got him pinned securely to wait for the police.

  That was the exhausting part, because then the adrenaline wore off, and it was just tedium. But the moment they left, I went to Aren, concern for the sweet young girl ripe in my eyes.

  “You alright?” I asked, reaching a hand out to rest upon her bare, milky shoulder.

  She had been screaming during the fight, I remembered that much, and she was looking like a wounded little bird, startled and scared as she trembled against me. She’d been so strong in front of the police, but now her eyes watered and she went into my chest with a sob.

  I wrapped my arms about her, pulled her delicate frame in against me, holding her soft form to my hard chest. My hands roamed over her back and shoulders, rubbing and trying to comfort her as her smaller body heaved with her upset.

  “It’s okay,” I said to her reassuringly, and in that fatherly kind of manner I kissed the top of her head, felt the brush of that perfect blonde hair against my lips and face. “You’re safe with me,” I assured her, and she was. I’d kept her safe throughout it all.

  She stayed there for some time, allowing me to breathe in her scent, to feel strong and as though I were a pillar of security.

  Though I don’t think I’d ever forget what happened when she pulled away, her watery eyes up at mine.

  “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”

  Those words. Whatever they did to me, they summoned forth from me more of that male part of me that strove to be a protector. Someone who looks out for the weaker, and Aren, with those puffy blue eyes, watery from tears, was weak and in need of help then.

  I scooped her up in my arms as if she were but a feather-stuffed pillow case, and carried her on upstairs.

  Sex wasn’t on my mind then when I did that, but when I got to my bedroom, and brought her in to my king sized bed, in that well-appointed room, I laid her out and was struck once more by her beauty. How perfect that pale little delight was.

  “You’ll sleep with me,” I said in a firm, hard voice, a protective — even possessive — edge to my words.

  She was still in another of her summer dresses — that seemed to be all she brought for the trip! — her feet bare. It looked almost like a nightgown, and she made no protest or move to change first. Instead, she looked up at me, one leg pulled up at the knee, the other rested against the bed.

  Her braids caressed her throat as she nodded.

  “Yes, Mr. Chandler,” she said in deference to my order.

  Maybe what I did next was way out of line, but something in me said that she needed more than that. More than merely being next to me for safety through the night. More than my protection. She needed a man to not only protect, but soothe. To defend her and comfort her.

  So I leaned in, and I brushed my hand along her cheek, pushing back one of her braids before I pressed my lips to hers and gave her a tender, loving kiss.

  Just as I’d thought, her body didn’t startle. Instead it softened, a sigh passing from her lips against mine. Her hand went to my arm, touching me so gently, as if just to have a connection and remind herself of my strength and presence. The way her thumb rubbed along my bicep, how she melted into my kiss...

  I couldn’t have asked for better.

  But as much as I desired her in the nubile flesh, she was in need of me, the comfort a strong, older man could provide. So I did what we both yearned for, and I got down atop her, lowering my broad, masculine frame slowly as we kissed, our lips smacking.

  She tasted like honey and heaven, such pristine perfection in every way. Her tongue moist and almost cool compared to my own, I just couldn’t help but give a deep, husky groan. My arms swelled with the effort of hefting my weight over top of hers, and she felt the bulge of my bicep.

  She was still the meek little darling I’d picked up at the airport, in need of my care, and her fingers squeezed around my arm. She let out a moan into my mouth as her legs spread, making room for me between them.

  She was shy, I could tell that much by how she kept trying to hide her eyes, to not let me see the flush of her cheeks, or the way her body was softening to mine.

  But where she was soft, I was hard. My muscles were firm, my dick a solid pillar then. All that exhilaration of earlier, of getting to protect this fair young maiden, it had filled me with more desire and virility than I’d felt in my entire life. Even the stiff ones I’d popped as a teen paled by comparison.

  I rubbed one hand along her thigh, felt her smooth, creamy flesh as I pushed her sun dress up to her hips. I felt like a god among men then, and she was my Aphrodite. The sounds of our lips softly smacking filled the air, and I couldn’t help myself but press my bulge in against her, and roll my hips, grinding my groin against her.

  Aren looked up at me with uncertainty for a moment before her eyes fluttered shut and her rosy lips parted. I loved how she felt against me, that sweet, foreign exchange student so nubile and youthful. Her skin was like cream, so soft and delightful as my hands went further and further up her hips.

  She was breathing nearly as hard as I was, our heartbeats racing against one another’s.

  My hands pressed up beneath her dress, felt the waistband of her panties before moving on past to delve up, over her broad hips to her slender waist. She felt like heaven to touch, that was the gods honest truth. I could’ve gotten lost in just exploring her body for eternity, if I wasn’t in such an insatiable mindset thanks to the events of that night.

  I’d conquered the enemy in my efforts to protect a woman, and now she was mine. That was the stuff of pure masculinity, like a man always yearns for, but so rarely comes.

  “I’ve never done this,” she said in her accented voice, and it gave me a moment of surprise. Though it was quickly countered by how her arms wrapped around my neck, as if she were afraid that’d make me want to leave.

  As if I could.

  Her legs were already spread for me, my cock hard and throbbing against her clothed pussy, and she felt too sweet to pass up. My testosterone was flooding me, and I ground into her as her lips once more found mine, her tongue lashing against me.

  I curled my fingers along her hips, into the waistband of her panties and found myself peeling that garment away from her cunny. The slick dampness of her moistened folds making a wet sound as I tugged the cloth away and slid it on down her legs.

  I took one look at that pink little slit and felt my dick throb so hard it risked popping free of my pants on its own. Instead though, I focussed myself, and peeled off my own shirt, tugging it up over my head and shoulders, revealing my broad torso, bulging with muscles across my abs and pecs.

  I began to work my belt as I gazed down at her tenderly.

  “I’ll take care of you,” I promised her in a deep husk.r />
  Her pussy was swollen with blood, puffy and bare of hair but for a sweet blonde tuft above the slit. It was so wet, and she didn’t shy away from my gaze. She may have been a virgin, but there wasn’t shame as I stared at her. I let my eyes trace down her face, over her full lips, her large breasts and down to that heated little slit.

  She was gorgeous, and I wanted to see so much more of her. All of her. So as I took off my belt, I looked up at her eyes.

  “Take off your dress,” I ordered, not unkindly. I smiled to take any bite out of my words, and her hands tentatively reached for the sides of her dress. She shifted into a sitting position, pulling the material up over her flat stomach.

  Her skin was perfect, and as she took the dress over her head, unveiling her large breasts, held in place by her white and pink flowered bra, they were even bigger than I’d imagined.

  She shifted, the breasts bouncing a little as she looked at me.

  I undid my pants and shed myself of them, letting my thick, muscular thighs loose, but then more importantly, I tugged down my boxer-briefs. That thick bulge that drew her eyes soon became the full on sight of my bare cock, the broad shaft tumbling out, ribbed by the ridges of my thick veins.

  I reached out as she gaped at my manhood, my powerful hands undoing her bra and peeling it away. I wanted to free those tits of hers, and the moment they fell free, so perky and large, I sank my fingers into them, squeezed and kneaded them, enjoying the supple feel of those perfect mounds of flesh.

  Her body was so responsive, nipples prodding into my palm as she moaned.

  One of her hands went down, resting between her thighs, teasing over the soft flesh as if she wanted to play with herself. But I was paying far more attention to the one that was reaching out for me, for my cock, curious fingers reaching out to touch it as she shimmied closer to me.