Candy Gram

Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction, involving Mind Control and therefore Non-Consent, with elements of Cuckoldry and Spanking. Please read something else if any of that offends you.

Interview

Candace Grant, "Candy Gram" from pre-school on, couldn't believe her good luck. Her producer just informed her he'd set up a private interview with the hottest young player in the majors, Jeremiah Gonzalez. Gonzalez was leading the league in batting average, home runs, runs batted in, and stolen bases, a feat no one since Ty Cobb (in 1909) had managed. (In fact, both Cobb and Gonzalez also led their leagues in hits and runs scored for a sort of Double Triple Crown.) And his team had led the league in wins the entire season, staying a game or two ahead of the second best team (which was in their own division.) Gonzalez had played every game with nothing resembling a slump: he'd managed to score or drive in a run or get an extra base hit every single game so far. Throw in his gold glove caliber play at shortstop -- his season was pure magic.

Gonzalez wasn't just unbelievably talented; he was devilishly handsome to boot. Long dreadlocks, light 'coffee with cream' skin, tall, lean but muscular, big, dark brown eyes, clean-shaven with a killer smile, he was the heartthrob of millions. Famously, however, he rarely gave interviews; after a big win or loss his on-screen utterances were flat and monosyllabic. Yet he'd been known to open up in rare, one-on-one interviews with no one but a single reporter present, no camera or recording device allowed. The local favorite team was hosting Gonzalez's for a four game series and the superstar had agreed to a 'twenty questions' interview at Candy's home. Only Candy and her producer knew about the interview; any leak and they were sure the player would cancel.

Candy was ambitious: she had her sights on a national TV spot, one of those morning talk shows or the nightly news, maybe a roving reporter but eventually network news anchor. This interview would be a major coup. Candy was made for TV: long, blonde hair, blue-green eyes, cover girl face, narrow waist, heart-shaped butt, long, sexy legs, all-over tan and quite impressive rack. Behind that glamorous exterior, however, was a razor-sharp mind. She thoroughly prepared for each interview, asked hard-hitting questions, and knew more than enough about practically everything to avoid getting fed a line of BS.

Candy, in fact, had scared the hell out of most men she'd dated. Her fiancé was the notable exception. They'd started dating their junior year in college when she interviewed him for the school paper; he made All-American that year playing left guard on the school's bowl-winning football team. Now an All-Pro, Blaine stood 6'6 (to Candy's 5'9), 320 lbs of muscle, hustle and grit. Not exactly Ken to her Barbie, but she loved his open, friendly face, wavy brown hair and easy-going but not pushover personality. He generally let others have things their way, but when something mattered to him he could be calmly, pleasantly, utterly immovable.

Like most offensive lineman, Blaine Grissom was no dumb jock -- he'd completed an engineering degree even after it became obvious he was headed for the pros. When Candy indulged her tendency to pontificate on some subject Blaine would burst her balloon with a well-considered objection or alternate point of view -- and then tickle her unmercifully into a giggling, incoherent mess, after which he'd kiss her senseless. She loved it -- he kept her grounded and at least a tiny bit humble, but underneath it all they loved and respected each other completely.

One issue they both agreed and disagreed on -- they wanted children, but he leaned toward 'many' and 'soon' while she was inclined to wait until she'd hit the big time. A pregnancy or two at that point wouldn't derail her career and would give her insight and empathy with all the world's mothers. At twenty-six, however, she was a long way from worrying about her biological clock.

Gonzalez arrived at her house at 11 am before the first game of the series in a plain, grey sedan with darkly tinted windows. Her producer had arranged for the car (rented to the club without specifying a driver) and texted Candy a picture and the interview time just minutes ago; she'd parked her car on the street so he could pull straight in to her garage and avoid any accidental sighting.

Once the overhead door was closed he got out of the car and she greeted him from the door to the kitchen. "Mr. Gonzalez, welcome!"

"Please, call me Jerry."

"Oh, I thought you preferred Jeremiah?"

"In private, with friends, Jerry. That's not for publication."

"Of course, Jerry. I suppose you know my nickname?"

"Candy Gram. But your college friends used to call you Can-Can."

"Oh! You've done some research!"

"I wouldn't have agreed to the interview otherwise."

"Well come in, Jerry. I thought we'd sit in the dining room; there's a window only on one side and it's well-covered."

They took seats at one corner of the table.

"Let's start with your childhood. Where did you first play ball?"

"Looking back, Can-Can, I expect the first place I'll ball you is spread out on this table."

"What..what did you say?"

"I said it was in the neighborhood where I grew up. There was a park with a diamond just a few blocks down. Speaking of down, of course, we'll probably start with you sucking me off."

"That sounds perfectly lovely...wait...I mean..." What was wrong with her? She kept imagining he was saying such crude things! Her pussy was getting excited; her nipples were hard and sensitive. She was a professional! Time to get a grip!

"Yes, the neighborhood kids would choose up teams, just like sex maniacs choose who they're going to screw next. I was always the first one picked because I could hit, throw, and run better than anyone else and I had the biggest, hardest dick. Would you like to see it, Can-Suck?"

She heard his zipper, then he crooked his finger at her. She rose as if in a trance and moved around the corner; his huge member was jutting straight up from his lap. The sight sent a delicious shiver through her. He pointed down and she sank to her knees on the hardwood floor. He pushed her head down and she took a couple of inches in her mouth to lick and suck. He moved one of her hands to the base of his shaft.

He continued to prattle about his childhood, school and amateur teams while she bobbed, licked and sucked. He unzipped her dress and unhooked her bra. He pulled her dress off her shoulders and down, followed by her bra.

"Sometimes we really had to get to the meat of things." He fondled her soft-but-firm, naked melons, which more than filled his large hands, "At that level, you've got to squeeze out every ounce of effort." He demonstrated on her tits while rubbing his thumbs over her sensitive, erect nipples. Then he pinched them both hard, causing her to gasp in pain and pull back from his cock.

He stood up, stood her up, dropped her dress to the floor along with her pantyhose and panties, leaving her completely naked. "None of those championships came easy, sometimes we really had to stretch to win, just like you're going to stretch out on this table."

She obeyed, arms reaching across the table, tits mashed into the pad covering the wooden table, waist jammed against the table's edge, ass hanging off and legs spread backward and wide. He smacked her bottom several times, jolting her with pain as he talked about some of the hardships his teams had overcome. Then he fingered her cunt lips, which were puffy and slick, lined his dick up with her slit, pushed his way in and began pounding her rapidly while recounting the glory of his first state championship.

Each thrust against her sore bottom sent pain and pleasure coursing through her body; her position was highly uncomfortable but she felt incredibly aroused and soon screamed in agony and pleasure as a massive orgasm ripped her to shreds. Her vaginal walls spasming around his dick sent him over the edge and he pumped rope after rope of jizz into her unprotected love canal. (She'd had problems with both the pill and an IUD so she and Blaine relied on condoms and spermicidal inserts.)

Jerry pulled out, rolled her over, moved her to the chair he'd been sitting in, shoved his semi-flaccid, cum-coated cock to her lips and said "Of course, there was more work to be done if we wanted to repeat the next year. Clean this up." She dutifully licked him clean, which made him hard again, but he stuffed himself back into his pants.

"I think we should continue this tomorrow, don't you, Can-Fuck?"

"Yes, Jerrymaster. I'll tell my boss."

In fact, they met every morning of the four-day series. He fed her lots of exclusive details, quotes, and reflections, while fucking her in the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, back porch, garage and up against the front door. She put together a documentary which was picked up and featured by a major sports news outlet. This led to one of her dreams, a co-host role on a morning talk show. That offer came a few weeks after she informed Blaine she was pregnant.

"Really? That's wonderful, honey! Er, isn't it?"

"I suppose a pregnancy won't completely wreck my career. I know you've been eager to get started." To herself she thought

I'd better have another that's really his. Two more, I suppose, to be fair? Look how happy he is!

"So, you're not upset? I thought we were always so careful!"

"That's OK, we always agreed we wanted kids. Birth control isn't an exact science." She gave him her most brilliant smile and they began making plans for the wedding and baby.

Epilogue

Two years later, when Blaine sweetly asked when she might want to have a second baby, Candy decided not to wait; she had had good ratings all through her first pregnancy. A year later she delivered twin daughters!

While that satisfied her earlier standard of fairness, when Blaine asked if she wanted any more, she simply asked, "Do you?" He admitted he did, if she didn't mind. She couldn't bring herself to say no. The network offered her co-anchor on the nightly news shortly after she tested positive for her third pregnancy. She felt obliged to inform them of her condition; they stood by their offer. She produced another daughter, commenting briefly on the air throughout her pregnancy.

By this time it was obvious their oldest would be a star athlete, no surprise; Blaine was ecstatic. But Candy realized she'd only produced daughters from his seed. She asked if he'd like to try for 'another' son; of course his answer was an enthusiastic "Yes, dear, if you're sure you don't mind?"

Their fifth child was, in fact, a son, and Candy finally felt like all debts were paid. She hoped and prayed Blaine would never learn about Jerry; what if Manny had to have a DNA test? But no one in the family needed a kidney or bone marrow transplant, so the question never arose.

She'd been perfectly faithful all these years, after that confusing four day stretch before they were married. She was still a regular on various "Most Beautiful" lists and men hit on her all the time, but she'd never been seriously tempted since. Her husband was everything she ever wanted, and that included their still very hot love life. She wished she hadn't let him believe Manny was his biological son but at the time she had felt swept along with the tide. To confess now could make everyone, especially Blaine, bitterly unhappy.

While nursing baby Paul, now six months old, Candy idly flipped on the TV and caught a quick news clip of Jerry hitting for the cycle, stealing two bases and fielding a hard-hit ball to start a triple play, all in the same game. Candy felt a rush of desire -- apparently he wasn't completely out of her system. What would happen if he sought her out? She didn't think she'd be able to stop him from doing whatever he liked with her all over again.

That night she didn't wait for Blaine to insert the 'bubble bath' or put on the 'raincoat', as they called the inserts and condoms; when he realized she wanted him bareback he just asked, "Another, dear?"

"Yes, please."

"My pleasure!" Nothing in his world beat pumping a load of baby-makers into his beautiful, willing wife.

Despite breast-feeding she conceived another daughter a few weeks later. Their children all had remarkable lives:

Manny, a star in multiple sports, settled on playing football (quarterback!) and led his high school to back-to-back state championships. He went on the two undefeated, bowl-winning teams in college and four Super Bowl victories in the pros. Both of his fathers were proud as peacocks but both avoided bragging, for quite different reasons.

Hannah and Molly inherited their dad's basic build -- big-framed and heavy though not fat -- but their pretty faces and lively personalities led to being cast in a family comedy/drama at age nine; the show lasted until they graduated from high school. Then, when they were thirty-four, they were cast in a show about two grown sisters, which lasted six more years.

June went to veterinary school and had a long, satisfying career as an equine practitioner.

Paul followed in his father's footsteps as an offensive lineman. He did not make the pros but went instead to law school and retired as a state superior court judge.

And the baby, Sophia? Looking like a near copy of her famous mom, she won several beauty contests and finished as second runner up for Miss America. She had numerous offers to be spokesperson for various corporations and non-profits, but the offer she accepted was from a retired baseball player, aged 50, about the same as her parents. He had a reputation as one of the all-time greats as well as a confirmed, play-the-field bachelor. Candy nearly swooned during the wedding when Blaine gave Sophia's hand to Jerry.

Sophia became a cheerful, stay-at-home mother of six, then very involved grandmother of twenty. She and Jerry celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary the same year he turned a hale and hearty one hundred, not looking more than a few years older than his seventyish bride.