0 comments/ 14934 views/ 1 favorites Sweet Tooth By: candy_2691 Walking home alone was not the safest thing Hannah could have done, but remaining at the party where her friend, Beth had deserted her wasn't an option. Damn Beth for leaving her, but she couldn't blame her, that man she was talking to looked like a movie star, and then you told her to go. Yup, blame yourself! She didn't drink much, since finding out she had Diabetes, and wasn't supposed to with some of her medications, but who could be that regimented. She had two drinks, so maybe the walk home would bring her sugar level down. The cold was biting, causing her eyes to water and tears to make her checks cold. She shivered, but not from the cold, or from her unseasonable, blue cotton dress. She had been walking for almost an hour, and her legs were tired and shaking. "Almost home," she whispered to comfort herself. She rounded the corner and entered her gate, swung it closed behind her and jumped a mile when a stray cat leaped from the patio onto an iron bistro chair. "Christ on a cracker, you scared me." Hannah reached down and scratched the tabby behind it's ear, "No you mooch, go home, no more tuna al fresco for you." Fishing in her bag, for the jingle of keys, she wandered blindly toward her door. When suddenly she was slammed from behind, and forced up flush with the stucco building. Covered from behind by hard muscle and bone, her mouth covered to prevent her from making a sound, she struggled against her ... What? Male, but Would-be rapist, or mugger, or thief? Murderer? In the reflection of a window, she saw his figure looming a head taller than she, longer than shoulder length hair swirled around head darkly, glinting silver grey eyes caught her gaze. Suddenly her attacker shifted, pulling her head to the side, breathing in the essence of her skin along her neck, and burrowing sharp fangs in her skin. The breaking of her skin reminded her of someone biting crisply into an apple. The shock of what was happening, froze her from reaction, and she held still. Then her attacker, moaned in his mouth, and sucked hard, he lifted her bodily and pressed her more securely to the cold cement stucco. From behind she could feel him begin to grind against her, his ridged full penis rubbing between the swell of her ass. Instinctive reaction took over and, she pressed backward, answering his grinding with some of her own, He chuckled in his throat, reaching down he rip the hem of the dress upward and her thong aside, easing himself out of his clothing, grasping my hips with what felt like talons, he plunged his swollen fuckmeat into her softness full bore. 'Ah-h-h-h!" my muted scream tore out of my mouth. She was stretched with the largest dick she had ever felt, small nerve tingles of pain made her wish he would stop, he was HUGH, but instead she begged him. "Oh yes, Oh please, don't stop, God don't stop!" His pelvis began slapping home, with the force of a freight train, not letting up. Thwack, Thwack, Thwack, Thwack, Thwack, Thwack, Thwack, He was in her pussy to cervix bumping it with a steady rhythm. Wet soon drizzled, and soaked her thighs, chilling her legs, he pulled her legs to fit around his thighs, and began stoking her breasts, pulling and squeezing. Hannah felt her excitement building, she pushed away from the wall, riding him with crazy lust. She felt his thighs strain and tighten, he was almost near the edge, dipping his hand down, he used all four fingers to strum the nub of her clit. She Came! He brought her over, her pussy tightened down, both of her legs clenched gripping him, her jaw dropped , slackened, and she issued a hushed scream. Her voice broke and she gasped for air, following with tiny whimpers. He stiffened, groaning into her neck , and held her in a vise like embrace. His breath fanning her neck like a bellows, his mouth still attached, sweet hot blood, still seeping forth. He pulled on her neck for several long minutes, drinking deep from her blood, as well as her life force. She felt her strength sapping, her mind floating away, and just before she lost consciousness, stop, pull back and felt him lick the skin clean. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She stifled a yawn, stretched, and groaned at the stiffness throughout her body, she felt as if she had been fucked, good and hard. Eyes popping open, as she regained the memories of last night, she flung off the comforter, to find herself nude. Crap, her mind screamed, what else did that Psycho do to me. In the bathroom mirror confirmation that she wasn't dreaming came it the form large hickey just below her ear. She searched the skin with her fingers and found a puncture. How the hell was she going to tell anyone, let alone make a complaint to the police. 'Well, Miss Adams we're sorry, but Vampires aren't real, would you like to check out this rubber room"? It was when she returned to her bedroom that she saw the paper on her night stand, and the words she read cause a shiver. Dearest Heart, Thank you for dessert, for your the sweetest I have supped from for many years. I may stop by, from time to time, to kill my sweet tooth. Yours, V Sweet Tooth As best I have been able to tell, my sugar addiction started even before I was born. My mother ate sweets for more than half her caloric intake from my conception until my birth. Things got worse when I was a child. We always had candy and soft drinks around the house, donuts or sweet rolls for breakfast, and intensely sugary desserts like baklava every night. It was really lucky that my intellectual or physical growth wasn't stunted by the sugar since today it is known that sugar is capable of doing both. I probably avoided problems for two reasons: 1) we had protein-rich foods like lentils and chicken daily too and I ate a hamburger with tomato, lettuce, and onions for lunch every school day; and 2) I was VERY active, maybe due to a sugar high, and competed in three different sports every year and was good enough in cross country to run for my college team. No one believed when I was growing up, although it is considered fact by most scientists today, that sugar is as addictive as cocaine. I first became aware of my unusual bond with sugar when I was in high school. I was eating a glazed donut when I experienced a very anxious feeling about a pair of tests that I was going to take the next day. I alleviated my anxiety by eating the entire box of donuts. Sugar bingeing became so noticeable that I could no longer fail to deal with it when I was a freshman in college, once cross country season had concluded. I was a little homesick – especially for my high school boy friend, whom I had started a sexual relationship with shortly after we turned eighteen -- and I turned to sugary foods to deal with it. No Twinkie, cupcake, bag of caramel corn, or cherry Danish was safe if I was around. Since I had a fast metabolism and during cross country was extremely active I didn't get fat, which in those days was the only tip off of a dietary problem. After Thanksgiving I got ill, with stomach problems and even a fever. To relieve my misery I ate chocolate bars, but I felt worse, not better. The summer after my freshman year, on the recommendation of my family's stymied GP, I checked myself into a macrobiotic clinic. I was required to give up white flour, milk products, animal fat, caffeine, and sugar. In less than a week I sneaked to a local store several times to buy candy bars and caramel corn with the only money that had not been confiscated when I checked in, and then stole a few candy bars when I ran out of money. Eventually I was found eating a PayDay candy bar under my covers and was kicked out. "You're toxic," the psychologist at the rehab facility told me. I stumbled through college. Fortunately I was smart enough to still make the grade, although I should have been doing better than I was. When I gave up cross country and started eating even more sugary foods during my junior year I gained twenty five pounds. The only place to turn at that time was Overeaters Anonymous. That didn't work either, so I turned back to regular exercise and lost twenty of the twenty five pounds I was overweight. Somehow I graduated college a year early and enrolled in graduate school. I decided to study psychology to see what made me tick. It was in graduate school that I finally found someone who diagnosed my sugar problem, surprisingly a doctor at the University health center. While it was far from a mainstream concept at the time – she showed me probably the first truly intellectual article that had been written about sugar addiction – I believed her. Unfortunately, by that time I had developed what some psychologists – myself included – now call "an addictive personality." My cravings for sugar when I went cold turkey had to be replaced by something. I had always enjoyed sex (who hasn't) although I was far from promiscuous or slutty, probably only twenty five total fucks by that time (I was twenty two) and all with condoms. I first started looking at porno magazines. Then with one date I went to a sex club. After my trip to the sex club, the only thing that could alleviate my sugar cravings was sex – with lots of different guys. Sucking cock was just as rewarding as eating a chocolate covered donut, and getting fucked by one guy while sucking another guy's cock alleviated all of my sugar cravings. However, my sex yearnings caused me to be less careful and more desperate, so I started having unprotected sex. I got pregnant, had an abortion, and my life seemed to be spinning out of control. I got lucky – that is all that it was, no skill on my part – when the doctor at the University health clinic introduced me to Brian, another graduate student who had the same sugar addiction problem that I did. The doctor didn't know that I had transferred my sugar addiction to a psychological sex addiction (even today no respected scientist believes that there is a physical sex addiction except for maybe one in more than a million exceptions), and now was reverting back to sugar after I had been scared by the pregnancy. The guy was decent looking and after we talked on several occasions (not really dates, but "therapy sessions") I told him how I had handled my problem. His eyes got wide. "Interesting, Amy...I shoot blanks as a result of having Scarlet Fever as a kid. If we were exclusive we wouldn't have the chance of getting some disease, and could deal with our sugar problem at the same time," Brian said. Then he got a concerned look on his face. "Oh shit; I hope that I didn't insult you;...I...I..." I put him out of his misery. "You have your own apartment, don't you?" I asked, stroking his hand. "Yes...." He cautiously replied. "Let's go there and discuss it. We don't want anyone here in the Student Union overhearing us." We were only in Brian's apartment for seconds before I was sucking his cock. He had a perfectly sized cock, including its aspect ratio, and big low hanging testicles. After I swallowed a full load of jism, he stripped me naked, ate my pussy to an orgasm, and then we went to his bed and fucked. It turned out that both Brian and I were completely uninhibited; he loved me to suck his cock, I loved him to eat my pussy, and we loved to fuck. We gave up sugar cold turkey. I moved in with him as soon as my lease was up, and we were able to function like normal non-addicts as long as we had sex six days a week (sometimes multiple times a day). While we mated like rabbits, we never developed what was love, only mutual respect, and we both were never interested in marriage or anything close. Our therapy sessions continued until we both got our degrees from graduate school at the age of twenty five. By then we thought that we had overcome our sugar addiction and as long as we had normal regular sex that we could function normally. I don't know what happened to Brian, but that was not the case for me. Fortunately, I met a guy that I thought that I could have a lifelong relationship with shortly after I started work. His name was Franklin. He was an attorney. He was nice looking, average size, smart, and compassionate. I think that I pushed sex into our relationship a little before he would have thought appropriate, but he fell in love with me, I assured him that I was exclusive with him. Our relationship soon matured into love. While the sex with Franklin was very good, he didn't really appreciate my situation with respect to sugar, although I had told him about it (I never told him about my sexual addiction to replace my sugar one), so he cavalierly had sweets around the house. Considering my past I started to develop my old feelings of insatiability. I went off the wagon regarding sugar consumption since it was available. I convinced myself that the balance I had between sex and sugar – neither as extreme as they had been in the past – was acceptable, especially since I regularly went to the health club so that I was only a few pounds over my optimum weight. Therefore I never sought out what I ultimately found out was the only thing that would eventually help – therapy. Franklin and I got married just before my twenty seventh birthday, when he was twenty eight, and life seemed to be good. I worked in psychology, but only as a teacher, not in a discipline that would really help me with my problems. After we had been married two years Franklin badly wanted a child, and although I knew that it could cause me problems, I agreed and went off the pill. I got pregnant quickly, and as soon as I did I went cold turkey on sugar again. By then I had figured out that my mother's sugar intake while she was pregnant with me was a likely root cause of my addiction, and I certainly was not going to take the chance of doing the same thing to my child. At first the glow of being pregnant masked my problem. It started to rear up when I was four months pregnant, however, and was now showing. Franklin was incapable of providing as much sex as I needed to overcome the lack of sugar, both because of his natural libido and also because he started to treat me less sexually once I started to show. I was starting to lose my mind, and one night when he was out of town on business and I ate half a dozen glazed donuts before I caught myself and induced vomiting, I knew that I had to do something. Franklin had an older brother Tom (actually half-brother; Tom's father died while his mother was pregnant with him but she remarried when Tom was only nine months old). Tom lived nearby. Tom was married to Connie, a beautiful and intelligent woman but more-or-less a cold fish, and someone who definitely did not want children. I also knew from discussions with Franklin's mom that Franklin was being nursed when Tom was a three-year-old toddler. From my psychology training I also was well aware that more than 75% of boys who are toddlers when their mother is nursing a sibling (85% if it is a male sibling) develop a fetish – they want to fuck a pregnant woman. The above facts, combined with my excellent relationship with Tom, the appreciative looks that he had always given me (now even more appreciative since I was pregnant), and his six foot five inch, 220 pound athletic body (Tom's father was much larger than Franklin's) planted a seed in my brain that I could not shake. Only two days after the seed was planted I had lunch with Tom, told him about my sugar addiction history and the only thing that could replace it; I blatantly propositioned him. Tom got red, blabbered, then stuttered, said some complimentary things, but in the end said that he just couldn't do it to Franklin (no mention of Connie). As we parted I promised him complete confidentiality and gave him a passionate kiss while I "inadvertently" stroked his hard on, which was about to burst his zipper. Tom didn't call saying he had changed his mind, and I was about to place a Craig's List ad, when serendipity hit. Franklin and Connie were both going to be out of town on business Wednesday and Thursday night the next week. I called Tom and invited him to dinner on Wednesday. "I promise not to push the subject we talked about at lunch, and I'll pick you up and we can go to a restaurant." There was a little hesitancy on Tom's part but he said "OK – but we go Dutch, you don't have to treat." "Great – I'll pick you up at 6:30 Wednesday night," I joyously replied, and ended the call with the most sultry "Bye, now," that I could muster. Of course I had every intention of fucking Tom senseless on Wednesday night; while I was going to act more than talk there would be no way to avoid the subject he and I had discussed at lunch. I deliberately arrived early, wearing only a trench coat and thigh-high boots. When he opened the door and said "Hi Amy; you're early but I'm almost ready; come on in," I did just that. I followed him to his bedroom where he was retrieving his wallet and keys from his dresser and dropped the trench coat. When Tom turned to look at me his eyes got bigger than baseballs and he moaned "Oh shit." "Please Tom, you've got to help me otherwise I'll become a tramp. I swear no one will ever find out," I murmured as I approached him, flipping my hair over my shoulder, licking my lips, and reaching for his belt. "Oh fuck, oh fuck," he mumbled as he perfunctorily deflected my hands from his crotch. "This may be your only chance to fuck a pregnant woman, and I know that you really want to do that," I said in my sexiest voice. That did it. In what seemed like less than a minute we were on his bed in a sixty nine. I was rapaciously sucking his very meaty cock while he was just as ravenously eating my pussy. After my first orgasm he turned me over on my hands and knees, buried his rock hard flagpole in one thrust, and fucked the shit out of me while massaging a tit with one hand and stroking my belly with the other. We had sex on and off the entire night. I could tell that he was slightly guilty the next morning, but not enough to pretend that we would be doing anything else Thursday night. After Thursday night Tom was hooked. "The last two nights were the most fun I've ever had. I don't know how you knew that I had a pregnancy fetish, but I do and fucking you is even more rewarding that my high expectations. Not only are you pregnant but you're hot and really know how to fuck." "Why you'd almost think that you want to establish a fucking schedule," I grinned. "You bet your sweet ass, I do," he growled, then passionately kissed me as he fingered my cum-filled pussy. The next three months were about the best of my life up to that point. I was off sugar completely, having enough sex between my cautious loving husband and my well-hung passionate brother to completely fulfill me, and I had a pregnancy glow. A lot of the guys at work must have had nursing younger brothers too, because I was constantly being hit on, and though most of it was clearly good-natured, it was clear that for some of the guys one word from me and it would be serious. Of course all good things must come to an end. Franklin came home before I expected him to one day once I was on maternity leave, and I foolishly left my computer open while I was showering. Worse, it was open to an email telling Tom to come over two days later at noon for another rewarding fuck. The only good thing about it was that Tom and I never used our names or any details that could possibly identify us, and the email address that I sent his communications to was one that I had set up for him and had a name that would never logically be associated with him. Franklin was unusually quiet when I found him home. The computer lid was closed, but I know that he saw it – and probably my history of emails with that address, all sexual in nature. He didn't confront me then but I knew that there was no way out of it. I was sure that Franklin was going to follow up and just cancelling the rendezvous would just cause him to hire a private detective and even if I didn't have sex with Tom again he would eventually confront me. The last thing that I wanted was for him to find out that Tom was my paramour. That night I called Tom on a burner phone, told him the bad news, told him that we had to cool it, and advised that I would handle the situation in a unique way that would only bring shit on my head, not his. Jack, one of the guys at work who had been hitting on me, and obviously the most serious one, was a young single guy. The next morning I went back to my office to talk to him face-to-face. I explained the situation to him – obviously without details or names – and asked him if he would be willing to fuck me the next day at noon, knowing that my husband would find us. "Is he likely to get violent?" Jack asked. I thought that a somewhat odd question since Jack was three inches taller and thirty pounds heavier than my husband – although then I realized that he had never met my husband or knew whether or not he had a gun. "No – and I can protect you if necessary because he'll never hurt me; and he doesn't have a gun. He'll just be distressed and may divorce my ass, but I'll have to suffer the consequences. Also, my bedroom has two exits." Jack smiled. "OK on two conditions – number one I get to fuck you today; and number two that we not be actually in the throes of sex when he finds us. I'll still be dressed and eating your pussy, but we won't be fucking." I had no choice but to agree. "OK," I replied after a short pause. "But you have to pay for the motel room with a credit card, and I'll reimburse you with cash." "I don't need reimbursement," he cackled. "I'm checking off number one on my bucket list." "You're too young to have a bucket list," I replied, since Jack couldn't have been more than twenty five. "Then call it my fantasy list – in any event I want to fuck a well along preggo, and one as hot as you makes it that much more delicious!" he cackled. Jack took the afternoon off, and we met at a local motel about 12:30. I was feeling guilty, but didn't think that I had much choice because I definitely could not take the chance that Tom would be exposed as my paramour. I wasn't really into the sex, however, until Jack started eating my pussy while he pinched one nipple with one hand and rubbed my belly with the other. I got even more into it when he had me sit on his lap facing away from me and fucked my brains out while molesting my pregnancy-enhanced boobs. My three hours with Jack turned out to be a wonderful sexual experience. I never had a guy cum in me three times in such a short time period before, each ejaculation like a firecracker detonating it was so intense. I was exhausted but very well satisfied when we left, and he was beyond-giddy. "That was the best experience of my life, sexual or otherwise," he chortled just before we exited. "Don't forget; you need to be at my house by noon tomorrow," I reminded him. "After today you can be sure that I'll keep my promise," he grinned. Things were tense with Franklin that night, but I tried to pretend that they weren't. I cried when he left for work the next morning with only a token kiss on the cheek. I did really love Franklin and even though I knew that my addiction was more responsible than I was for what had happened, I still realized that I had fucked up badly and that it may ruin my life – and his. Jack arrived on time. It was hard getting into it while he licked my pussy while remaining clothed, but I put on a good act. Franklin appeared just when I thought that he would. He yelled "Get the fuck out" to Jack, which Jack carefully did (fortunately it was easy due to the two exits), while making sure that Franklin wasn't reaching for a weapon. I didn't bother trying to cover up. I did start crying. "I'm so sorry Franklin, you deserve so much better than an addict like me," I got out through my tears. Franklin didn't go ballistic, but he was obviously very hurt. He wanted to lash out. "Is the baby even mine?" he boomed. "I never had sex with anyone besides you during our marriage except after I got pregnant," I remorsefully replied. "We can have a DNA test done to prove it. It's not an excuse, but giving up my sugar addiction led to a sex addiction, and Jack just happened to be there." "Is there anyone else?" he bellowed. "No...just Jack, and maybe a dozen times with him," I mumbled in reply with my eyes cast on the floor. "Did he use a condom?" was the next question. "No, but he was tested and he has no STDs," I quickly responded, again without making eye contact. "I've got a meeting with a client this afternoon that I can't miss," he said with crossed arms and eyes both teary and angry at the same time. "We'll talk at six tonight." "OK," I softly replied. That night I tearfully told Franklin everything about my addictions since I was a teenager, and how I had handled them. I didn't ask that he consider them as excuses – just that he understand them enough so that he could hopefully forgive me. "I'll have to see," he mumbled. "I'll sleep in the guest room until I make up my mind." Sweet Tooth Things are stressful enough when you're in your last few weeks of pregnancy let alone when you've just been exposed as a cheater by your husband and wonder if you'll have a two parent household once the baby is born. One fortunate thing was that Franklin talked with his big brother Tom about his problems, after swearing him to secrecy. While Tom was uncomfortable in speaking with Franklin about it since Tom had fucked me dozens of times, he honestly felt that he was giving the most unbiased and best advice that he could when he told Franklin that he had to wait until several months after the baby was born before he made any decisions. I know because Tom and I talked on burner phones about it on several occasions. I delivered a healthy, happy, seven pound, six ounce, bouncing baby girl eighteen days after Franklin confirmed my cheating. The hustle, bustle, and midnight feedings (I nursed little Emily Rose, Franklin's and my mothers' middle names) that Franklin got up for to bring Emily to me, made my cheating fade into the background. But it reared its ugly head up again when Emily was three months old and I talked about going back to work. "Doesn't that asshole Jack work at the same place that you're on maternity leave from?" Franklin rhetorically asked. "Yes," I had to reply. "I don't want you going back there!" "If you can assure me that you've forgiven me and that you'll be staying around I'll quit and get another job, or even stay at home if we can afford it," I responded. "I can't promise you that," he said and then walked out. The night that I came back from my first day at work after maternity leave (we had a nanny who brought Emily to me to nurse at noontime) Franklin informed me that he could not forgive me, and that he wanted a divorce. I cried but nodded my head. "If you're at all reasonable I'll agree to anything," I told him. We quickly reached an amicable arrangement. We sold the house and split the proceeds and each bought a small house, me near my work, he near his, but only about four miles apart. He paid for half of the nanny's salary and was responsible for Emily's college fund, and for day care until Emily was old enough not to need it. I was responsible for all of the rest of her expenses. He had liberal visitation rights, including at least every other weekend and with the nanny if he and she were agreeable. There was no alimony. All assets aside from the house were split 50-50. When I got back to work there was a new head of the department. I brought her up to date on my situation, especially my addictions. She recommended a female therapist she had gone to graduate school with. I was apprehensive, but I felt that I had nothing to lose so I started going to see her. I'd like to say that therapy worked wonders – and ultimately it did. However, there was a period of about six months where I was still off sugar (so Emily wouldn't be ingesting any from nursing) and needed sex. Even though I was no longer pregnant, Jack volunteered to fulfill that role. I gratefully accepted as long as he understood that it was not leading to a permanent relationship. "We'll fuck each other comatose until someone else comes along for one or both of us," was his cheesy-grin reply. He was an excellent sex partner but I never felt any love for him. During the divorce, and thereafter, I was as nice and friendly to Franklin and his family as I could be. I had several events – six month birthday, nine month one, etc. – for Emily, and invited not just Franklin but Tom, Connie, and Tom and Franklin's parents (Franklin's father was, of course, Tom's stepfather). All came and all were pleasant except for Connie. I noticed tension between Connie and Tom. After the first episode I called Tom up but he was unwilling to talk about it. After the second episode, Emily's nine-month birthday party, he called me. "I'm at a loss about what to do about Connie," he confessed. "While I still have feelings for her, her attitude about many things is bugging the hell out of me – and the fact that not only doesn't she want kids, but doesn't even want to be around them – is a downer for me." I commiserated with him for a half an hour. As we were getting to sign off I made the flippant – maybe it was Freudian, not flippant – remark "Well if you ever divorce her keep me in mind. I'll give you as many kids as you want knowing how well you'll service me when I'm pregnant." I regretted the mark as soon as I said it. I started sweating when the phone was quiet afterward. "Do you mean that?" Tom finally asked. After a pregnant pause I stuttered "I...I...well...uh...I was saying it as a joke. But if I think about it, I...I...well, it's not a joke. I really, really like you. However, it's impossible since Franklin would go ballistic." "You've given me lots to think about; bye," Tom replied, and then immediately hung up. Over the next nine months lots of things happened. The therapy actually worked, and like a recovering alcoholic I was sugar and sex-addiction free when Emily turned eighteen months old. As nicely as possible I broke it off with Jack. While I had been going to therapy I had lunch or dinner with Tom on a regular basis, and he joined Franklin, their Mom, my Mom, and me on a zoo outing with Emily when she was sixteen months old. Shortly after that outing he announced to the family that he was divorcing Connie. I wasn't surprised but pretended that I was. Once Connie and Tom were legally separated, they had already sold their house and moved into their own short-term-lease apartments and the divorce was only a formality, on a Saturday afternoon he came to see me. He was blunt. "Amy, I've always had feelings for you – and our sexual experience while you were pregnant was the best period of my life. I want to try a true romantic relationship with you." "What about Franklin?" I asked. "I'll convince him that that will only help his situation, especially when it comes to visitation; but I'm not going to talk to him unless I know that you're interested." I got a diabolical smile on my face. "Your favorite niece is napping; would you like a non-verbal answer to your question?" I teased as I pushed my lips to his, and stroked his already half-hard cock through his pants. We had a very sweaty, active, even athletic, fuck. As we lay next to each other panting I said "Was as good as when I was pregnant?" He got a big smile. "Physically even better, although emotionally nothing – and I mean nothing – could beat the sex when you were pregnant. Of course I plan on seeing to it that you are pregnant again," he snickered, and then sucked each of my nipples in turn as I playfully tried to push him away – fat chance since he was four times as strong as I was. We probably would have fucked again, but we heard Emily stirring then calling "Mama, mama," so we quickly got dressed. Emily was very happy to see "UT" as she called her Uncle Tom. Tom didn't let any grass grow under his feet. The very next day he went to see Franklin. Franklin had been seeing a woman named Gretchen that he was getting serious about, and she liked and got along with Emily. I went out of my way to be nice to Gretchen the three times that I met her, and made sure that there was no awkwardness when she was around. I don't know if it was that Tom is a super-salesman, Franklin's relationship with Gretchen, my constantly pleasant and cooperative demeanor around both Franklin and/or Gretchen, or all of the above – but Tom called me on my cell that Sunday night. "I'm sure that Franklin is OK with it," he gushed. "I lied and told him that I hadn't talked to you about courting you yet, but I thought that you'd be receptive if he gave you his OK. He wants us to come over tonight – please say OK when he calls." "You got it," I excitedly replied. Just then my land line rang. "That might be him calling now – I hope to see you soon," I said as I terminated the call. "Hello Franklin," I said in a cheery voice as I answered the phone after confirming by caller ID that it was him. "Hi Amy; how's our girl doing?" "She was just telling me today – as best she can with her present vocabulary – that you, me, grandmas, and UT are taking her to the zoo again this week. I'll bet you didn't know that." "I'm glad that she liked it," Franklin laughed. "Say – now that I know that Emily's doing great, let me ask you something else. Would you mind if Emily's UT and I came over tonight to talk to you about something of mutual interest?" After a pause I laughed "Sounds mysterious. Sure, come on over but give me an hour to clean up the house so that toys and junk aren't all over the place." "Don't go out of your way – but how about right after you put Emily to bed at 8:30." "Wow, you've really got my curiosity up, Franklin; you and Tom are coming to see me without Emily present? OK – see you at quarter to nine," I replied. I put Emily to bed a little early, and Tom and Franklin arrived together right on time. I offered them each a glass of wine, which they accepted, and then we sat together at the kitchen table. "I can't stand the suspense – lay it on me, dudes," I chuckled when there was an awkward silence. Franklin nodded at Tom to go first. I have to hand it to Tom – he acted apprehensive and deferential, like he didn't know what my reaction would be. "Uh...well...you know that one of the reasons that Connie and I split up was because she didn't want, or even like, kids. You on the other hand are a great Mom..." "Thanks," I interrupted with a smile. "Don't interrupt, I'm on a roll," Tom laughed. "Anyway, I've always liked you as a person, and to be honest...this is really embarrassing – I thought that you were the sexiest sister in history. So – now that both you and I are divorced, I was wondering if we had any chance for a romantic relationship?" I pretended to be surprised. Then I looked straight at Franklin. "What do you have to say about this? Wouldn't it be uncomfortable for you?" "Tom and I talked about this for a long time – and brought Gretchen into the conversation too. I have no objections. If it works out I think that it will just make things even easier than they have been so far in co-parenting Emily. Our family unit will be strengthened. Of course I have no idea what your feelings about Tom are – but I'll be the last person to stand in the way." I acted pensive. "This is new to me – I've always liked you, Tom, and there is no doubt that you're a hunk. But let me think about it." "That's only fair," Tom and Franklin seemed to say in unison. "Tell you what – if I think that it's a good idea I'll call you and ask you over for dinner; if you don't hear from me you'll know that I think that it's a bad idea. Is that a good plan?" "It will save my ego not to be rejected in person if you don't have any interest," Tom nervously chuckled. We chatted about work and things in general for another twenty minutes and then they left. I mouthed "call me" toward Tom when Franklin couldn't see. Tom called me as soon as he dropped Franklin off. When I saw his cellphone number on caller ID I answered the phone "You're a fricking genius." "I told you that I thought that I could work it out. Can I come over tonight to celebrate?" "You are so, so, soooo bad," I chuckled. "I won't do anything to encourage you, but if my front door is somehow left unlocked and you sneak in, I don't know how I could fight you off without waking Emily," I giggled, then hung up. I waited in bed naked. Tom didn't disappoint. He fucked my brains out that night and the next morning. It was all we could do to wait two months before Tom gave up his lease and moved in with me – we thought others would think it was suspicious if it was less than two months. Tom and I got married in a simple civil ceremony three months after his divorce became final. It's now six years later and: --I've now been "sober" – no sugar and no sexual addiction (except for Tom) – for seven years. I still go to a therapy session every three months to make sure that I don't fall off the wagon. One reason why I'm sure that I won't is because unlike the situation with Franklin, Tom is very supportive of no sugar around the house. I hope that Emily doesn't go off the deep end once she leaves home because the poor girl has almost never had a cupcake, donut, soft drink, or sugary cereal in her life. --Tom and I have two kids of our own, boys aged four and two. I quit work and am a stay-at-home mom, and I love it. Tom fucked me to nirvana virtually every single day each time that I was pregnant. --I'm head-over-heels in love with Tom. I sometimes feel guilty that I love him much more than I ever loved Franklin, or anyone else. --Our relationship with Franklin and Gretchen – who got married a year after Tom and I did – and their own little girl, Jessica, could not be better. There is virtually no tension at family functions, and no difficulties with visitation – which is almost joint custody but without all of the problems often associated with joint custody. As long as I can stay "on the wagon" I expect to have a great life – and I'm doing everything in my power to ensure that my kids never become addicts! Sweet Tooth Ch. 02 Chapter 2: Sweetness How paranoid can you get, Hannah thought to herself, it had been six months since the attack. However she still checked the house perimeter before going to bed, and had her friend Tom install some safety devices in her home. She just didn't go out after dark, no matter how her friend Beth had pled with her, no parties, no bar hopping, no clubs. Some nights she woke with cold sweats and nightmares, she had a right to her nightmares, it would start as always, the chill that ran up her spine, being slammed from behind, those luminous grey eyes reflected in the window, the fear of dying. Then it would twist into a wet dream, she was being held tight, almost crushing. Breath would whisper into her hair, her ear, and then the bite would come, did she long for the bite more than she longed for the satisfying sex. It felt almost euphoric in her dreams, the bite was sex, it made her tingle, took from her what he needed, how he needed it. The basic sex, was an after thought, he would lay her down, and crush her with his weight, fill her with his body, and make her take him as much as he had taken her, filling her, making her scream. God she really had to..... She looked up from the kitchen sink, and suddenly saw a man in her yard, standing in the garden near the roses, he bent to pluck one. He was tall, about 6'4", shoulder length dark hair, and a knee length black denim duster, blue jeans and boots. He looked up and caught her watching him, raising the rose to his face, then he looked at her and kissed the rose in salute. He began walking toward the house, she backed away from the window, he advanced to the back door, she backed into the hall, he came through the locked door. No alarm beeps sounded, how had he disabled the alarm? She turned and ran for the phone, but she wasn't fast enough. He had her in two steps, gripping her upper arms, pulling her back to his chest, she screamed, and he clamped a hard hand across her lips, cutting her lip on her teeth. He picked her up around the waist and walked her back to her bedroom. Setting her feet on the floor, he stood behind her caressing the line of her ribs and hip, she felt his breath at the back of her neck, and fear coursed through her. "Please don't hurt me, I won't tell, just go away." She cried out. "You tempt me with your dreams sweetheart, at first your scarred just like the rest, but with you it turns to lust, and you want my bite, you want the rest I can give you, all I can give you." "You can't know what I've been dreaming." She whispered, "That's just not possible." "Trying to convince me or yourself sweetheart your dreams are so vivid." He growled and turned her to him, one hand at the base of her neck, one hand on her ass, he pulled her in for a kiss. His tongue swept her mouth, worrying the cut on her lip, sucking at it. He grabbed both ass cheeks and rubbed her up and down his length. Her hands came up to burrow into his hair, clasping his head, rubbing his scalp. After what seemed hours, he pushed her back, dropped his jacket on the floor and ripped his t-shirt off over his head. Muscles rippled along his torso, biceps bulging, pecs hard, he stood letting her drink her fill. He stepped to her, pulling her palms up to his chest, tilted his head and gazed into her eyes. She began to caress him, rasping his nipples with her nails, pinching them, they grew hard as diamonds, and she leaned forward to nip them, lick them and kiss his chest. She anchored both hands in his waist band and pulled the button loose, running the backs of her hands over the veined flesh of his belly, she lowered the zip and pushed his jeans back, glancing up at him through hooded eyes, she licked her lip. "Suck me sweetheart, take me into your mouth, eat me, drink me." He urged her on, pushing down on her shoulders, until she dropped to her knees, he tangled a hand in her hair. "Your so big, how did you get this inside me?" She licked him. "Mmm, Good enough to eat." She wrapped both hands around his cock, pulling and twisting it's length, she sucked him inside her mouth and began to pull him into her mouth, he plunged to the back of her throat, gagging her, still he pushed, her eyes began to water, she came up for air. Bending forward to suck at his balls, that oddly were almost hairless, she dropped her mouth back down over his pole, humming her pleasure, at giving him his, she reached under him and rimmed his brown eye with a wet finger, and pushed it in, he groaned, flexing his buttocks, trapping her finger, he released her and she pushed into him again. "Ahh, you bitch, you're such a freak, suck my cock, eat me." She pulled on him sucking and mouthing him, feeling him tighten and shudder, then drinking him, swallowing his life force. She popped out of his sphincter and dropped her hand to caress along his leg. He toed his boots off, and pushed his jeans off. When he recovered, he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed, following her, pulling her P.J.s off he tossed them to the floor, and began nuzzling her neck, he stroked the peaks of her breasts, until she arched her back, then he suckled them, he pushed his hand down through her curls, gathering moisture and spreading it around her clit, he rubbed her and spread her, pinched her nubbin, causing her legs to contract and close around his hand holding him. He chuckled at her attempts to hold him still, he teased her more then and plunged a finger inside her. She turned her head and bit into his shoulder, crying out, she twisted off, and screamed her pleasure. He rose above her then, siding himself in, feeling her muscles tighten and quiver around him, his arms reached around her, holding her while he hunched into her into her. She felt stretched with his sex, and slight discomfort at first, she drew in a slow breath and moaned attempting to accustom herself to his size. Slowly he began, rocking her hips, suckling her breasts and caressing her, she moaned and clutched his hair, he licked her neck at her pulse, sucking and pulling on her skin, then he nuzzled and bit, sinking his fangs in, pulling her blood out. The harder he thrust, the more he drank. Soon he came, with a yell above her, blood covering his mouth, she pushed her hips up to get more of him, and she whimpered and screamed. He remained inside her, gazing down into her eyes, licking the blood from his lips, a line of crimson had dribbled down below his chin, and she lapped it up. He took her lips then eating from her, sucking her tongue into his mouth, she ran her tongue over the tip of his fangs, this drove him crazy, and he grasped her head kissing her silly. He lowered his lips to her neck and cleaned off the residual blood flow. "Sweet, your so sweet, mmmm, I have to stop myself from over indulging in you." He mused. "Hannah, I love the taste of your blood, it's so rich and dark." "How do you know... What is your name, I don't know. You seem to know everything about me, all I know is that your "V" and your vampire." He chuckled, "Curiosity killed the cat, I am Vilhelm Hermani Lickt, please call me Vil. I am about six hundred, years old, I was born in the Germanic Guild wars, of noble blood, spoiled and pampered, by all my kinsmen, and all my serfs. I was laid low, by a vampyre, I had come upon him in the act of murder. He changed me that night into a perfect creature, I will not fall ill, I do not grow old, I can sustain myself on food or blood, blood keeps me at my peak performance, and in a preternatural form." He kissed her nose, "Are you becoming bored with my tale sweet, I will get you some juice, you look pale." He rose from the bed, and went to get some juice from the fridge, upon his return he made her drink it down then took the glass from her hands placing it on the night stand, he rolled over next to her, and stroked her breasts and stomach, marveling at the alabaster white of her skin, just under the surface he could see the hint of blue veins, hear the whoosh as the blood coursed through them, he closed his eyes and shuddered, then pushed himself away from her. He would not take her life this night. "Sleep my sweet Hannah, dream of me, often, until I return." He gathered his strewn clothes, and left her, she was already falling asleep.