tagExhibitionist & VoyeurFantasising About Emma - Donor Ch. 06

Fantasising About Emma - Donor Ch. 06

byArrowThroughTheHeart©

HALF TERM, DAY 2, SUNDAY

I awake to the smell of pancakes and the sound of high heels clicking on my kitchen floor. What a fantastic combination.

I clamber out of bed, not bothering to put any clothes on, and let my morning wood lead me.

A vision of beauty and sexuality stands at my kitchen worktop, facing away from me, unaware of me fucking her with my eyes. Emma's blonde hair is pulled up into a messy bun, loose strands falling around the thin straps of her black top that is cropped so high, it can barely be covering the bottom of her breasts. The hot tramp stamp tattoo on her lower back is completely visible, her leggings riding very low on her hips and so nearly showing her butt crack.

And they're the type of leggings I'd been pestering her to get – black, shiny, wet-look. It's abundantly clear she's not wearing anything under them – they are so tight, and moulded so perfectly to her body, that she may as well not be wearing them... except the glistening material accentuates the curves of her perfect bum and shapely legs, and is sexy as hell.

And finally, on her feet are a pair of pointy toe, black patent leather boots, with 5-inch metal spike heels and silver buckles running from the top at the knee down to the ankle. They look like something a fetish model would wear, and are very fucking hot.

She turns to face me (I don't know how she knew I was here – maybe she heard my jaw hit the floor?), and my already-hard cock lurches of its own accord. Her make-up screams goth slut, with lipstick of such a dark red that it's almost black, and the same colour shadowing her heavily-lined grey-blue eyes. Her top must be at least one size too small, because her tits are squeezed up and together and look like they're trying to escape. Her tattoos, the butterfly and all of the top half of her fairy, clash with the goth make-up and the "love me til we die" slogan scrawled across her crop-top.

But again, I come back to those leggings... From the front, I can fully appreciate how tight they are. Her camel toe is clear for anyone to see, and the outline of her clit hood piercing is very obvious. I knew she'd look good in them, but I had no idea she'd look this good. No-one should look this good.

She strikes a pose and gives me a filthy grin.

I fall to my knees and crawl to her.

"My Goddess... please, don't move. Please, let me pleasure you."

I tentatively kiss the vicious pointy toe of her boots, looking up to her for approval. She locks eyes with me, an amused look on her face.

I kiss the shiny leather again, then lick up to the first buckle. I kiss each one in turn, working my way up her leg until I reach the top, where I stop and stare at her prominent pussy.

Gently, I run my fingers over her mound. We both moan.

"It's a good job they're designed to look wet, or anyone would be able to see how soaked you are down here," I breathe, stroking her softly.

"They feel soooo good against my bare kitty. I'm gonna replace all my other leggings with these," she purrs.

And outside of work, she usually lived in leggings. This is excellent news.

She slips her fingers under the waistband, as though to slide them down her hips, but I stop her, and rub her lips a little harder through the clingy fabric.

"I'm gonna make you soak them, then we're going out and you're going to smell of sex, as well as look like it."

She groans and gyrates her hips over my fingers, pressing against them, wanting more, wanting them inside her.

My spare hand fondles her thigh, loving the feel and the sound of the material stretching as my fingers claw at her. I kiss the waistband, just above where her hard little nub juts out, begging for attention.

My fingers are jamming at her pussy now, straining to get through the black shine, her gushing juices squelching as she throws a leg over my shoulder and pulls me further into her.

My lips find her clit and I nibble; she digs the heel of her sexy boot into my back, and I bite her clit, hard, and suck on it until she cums in a torrent, drenching her leggings from the inside, soaking through to my hands and face. Her legs go wobbly, and I grab her butt to hold her up; and it feels so good, I can't help squeezing her cheeks and teasing her arsehole, which sends a little aftershock coursing through her.

She leans back against the kitchen counter to steady her shaky legs. I gaze at her as she pulls at the saturated wet-look membrane covering her crotch, and tingle at the snap of it pinging back into place.

"I'm soaking," she giggles. "I can't go out like this."

"But that's the point. This week is supposed to be about our fantasies, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, wet clothes is... kind of a thing I've got."

Her eyebrow rises; the corner of her mouth curls in a smile. "You mean like wet t-shirt contests and that?" she asks.

"Yeah. And jeans. And... well, lots of clothes look hot when soaked, if they're on the right woman."

"So that's why you've been pestering me to get some of these." She runs her fingers over the leggings absentmindedly; I can't help but watch.

"Yeah," I admit. "They are so fucking hot on you, I'm surprised you haven't melted the floor."

"Hmm... sounds like we've got a plan for today. See how many different ways we can get me all wet!"

I smile up at her. "You are fucking perfect."

"Only to you."

***

We head out of the town centre car park; my hand resting on her bum, her hand in my back pocket. She hasn't changed her clothes, only added a short black leather jacket that still leaves bare her toned, tattoed and pierced stomach, and her tramp stamp.

Her eyes are lowered – I think she's a little embarrassed at the number of stares she's getting, and not just from guys. Some of the looks are a little disdainful, but I know they'd fuck Emma given the chance.

We turn away from the huge shopping centre, and walk to the old high street, where most of the shops used to be before the major redevelopments. It's relatively quiet as we near the old town square, and the water feature at its centre.

The fountain is basically two circular pools – a higher one of about 8 foot diameter, which fills and overflows into the lower pool, about 4 foot below.

An elderly couple sit on the lower pool's edge, sharing a pack of crisps. We take a seat around the opposite side.

I remove Emma's digital SLR camera and set it to "film" mode. Emma squeezes my hand nervously.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," I tell her.

She gazes up into my eyes. "Oh, I really want to."

She spins 180 degrees so she's facing into the fountain, and lowers her fetish boots into the water, the water lapping around the top of them. She kicks her feet playfully and shrugs off her little jacket.

Looking to me, and seeing the camera pointed at her, she smiles coyly and stands in the pool, splashing as she walks to the middle.

She lowers herself to her haunches... then to her knees... then she sits, completely submerging her hot leggings and sexy boots, the cold water just reaching the very bottom of her crop-top.

She lifts a dripping heel into the air, pointing her toe and bending her knee, the wet boot and leggings looking utterly fabulous. Her eyes lock into mine through the camera lens as she strokes her taught thigh.

Her eyes flick down to the tent in my jeans and she licks her lips seductively with her pierced tongue.

She leans back, letting the water come up to her neck, then sits back up. Her tiny top, which was tight to begin with, is clinging to her tits so that the bumps of her nipple rings are even more blatant.

She twists and spins so that she's lying on her front, facing me. Her cleavage is obscene. She raises her spike-heeled boots into the air behind her head, smiling sweetly, then shifts onto all fours, her bum high in the air, showing off her tramp stamp tattoo and the tip of her butt crack.

My dick is starting to hurt in my pants.

She swivels again, this time in the same pose, on all fours, but facing away from me. She wiggles her arse, and I zoom in on the most obvious camel toe I've ever seen. She teasingly slides a finger over her mound, pressing the wet, shiny material between her lips, and she giggles when she hears me moan.

She crawls forward, and I suddenly notice the small audience that has gathered. The crisp-eating elderly couple have scarpered, but a few curious couples and the obligatory group of teenage lads have stopped to watch this incredible girl cavort in the chilly water.

Emma is now kneeling under the waterfall from the upper pool, the cascade soaking her. She claws and scratches at her thigh, then grabs her tits, kneading them vigourously. A hand slides slowly down, under the waistband of her leggings...

"Ok you, out of there. And you, put the camera away."

A policeman spoils our fun. Emma, clearly frustrated, sashays to the edge, and I give her a hand to climb from the fountain. She gets a smattering of applause – becoming a regular occurance for her!

I placate the policeman, promising we won't be back in there later, and that we'll go now to find Emma a change of clothes. Dubious, he nevertheless lets us go, although I notice he's watching us carefully – or maybe he just can't tear his eyes from Emma's behind.

Emma's shivering, but can't stop giggling. I put my arm around her and hold her close as we walk, trying to warm her up.

"What are you laughing about?" I ask.

"I can't believe what a turn on that was. I was going to frig myself off right there!"

"Fucking arsehole policeman," I mutter.

That just sets her giggling again.

I steer her into the huge shopping centre, to the escalators. As we rise, I let my hand wander to her arse, giving it a little pinch.

The group of teenage lads have followed, and are on the steps below us. They are laughing and joking about how much I must have paid for Emma, and what she'll do for that kind of money.

She lowers her eyes, seeming a little embarrassed. I kiss her on the temple and stroke her bum. She sticks her butt out a bit, wanting me to squeeze her arse a little harder, which I do, and she opens her legs wider. I run my hand down between them and fondle her engorged pussy.

"The only problem with these leggings," I whisper in her ear, "is that I'd have to pull them down to get my cock in you."

She moans sexily and wriggles against my fingers.

The comments from below have been replaced by stunned silence. Emma and I share a grin, and hop off the top of the escalator.

Our tail leaves us as we go into the nearest department store, past rack upon rack of girl's clothes, toward the women's section.

"Ooh, hold on," she says, tugging my arm to make me stop. "That's cute."

'That' is a pink t-shirt with a silver sequin heart on the front. She picks one out. It looks tiny.

"And they've got it in white too," she enthuses.

"Are you thinking of it for your sister?" I ask.

"No, for me, silly."

I guffaw. "Er, Emma, these are for girls. You'll never fit in them."

"Are you calling me fat?" she pouts playfully.

"No, I'm saying your tits are too big to fit in a top for an 8 year old. Actually, even your sister would struggle to fit in that."

Emma sticks her tongue out, her stud glinting. "We'll see."

We continue on, Emma swerving through the assault course with practiced grace, even in her 5-inch heels.

"You want me in jeans, right?"

"How about these?" I ask, pointing at a mannequin that's wearing a pair of faded light-blue jeans, with a ultra-low waist and a bootcut, and a few little worn bits and holes on the thighs.

"Yeah, they're nice. You realise they're meant to be worn over my boots though, right?"

I shrug. "I think that'd look hot."

She grins, and searches for the jeans I've picked.

"Sorry, they haven't got them in my size," she says.

"Bugger," I swear. "Have they got them in a size smaller?"

She grins again, and pulls a pair of the jeans from the rack. "Ok," and heads to the changing rooms.

Fortunately, it's quiet today and there's no attendant, so Emma nips in unnoticed.

I wait outside, happy there aren't many shoppers today – a guy hanging around changing rooms alone can look a little creepy if he's not careful. Especially when he's still sporting wood...

Emma's head pops through the curtain. "Hey, I need a hand."

I hurry through before anyone can see me. Credit to her – she's got the white top on, though it's so indecently tight and stretched so thin that you can see each nipple ring outlined clearly. It is, however, obvious why she's called for my help – Emma can't get the jeans up over her bodacious bottom.

"I think they look great like that," I tease, and she playfully swats at me, accidentally hitting the tent in my trousers.

"Oh God, you're still hard," she giggles, as she gropes my dick.

"Careful," I warn.

"You're that close?" she asks, surprised. I nod.

Quickly, she tugs the jeans back down to her knees and leans against the cubicle wall. "If you're going to spurt, at least put it somewhere useful," and she wiggles her bum at me, her tramp stamp looking so tantalising and slutty.

I'm so horny, I don't need to be told twice. I pull out my pole, line it up, grab her by the hips and push all the way into her dripping, tight hole. We both moan, a little too loudly.

"Oh God, you're so wet," I whisper as I speed up, sawing in and out of her burning pussy.

"I've just been swimming," she giggles.

"Not that kind of wet," I grunt, my thrusts continuing to get harder. "Sorry, this isn't going to last long."

She rubs her pierced clit as I pound her into the wall. "I'm right with you," she purrs, and I unload into her, my hot sperm triggering her to squirt her orgasm all over the jeans around her legs.

As we regain our breath, and I tuck myself away, we notice the mess she's made.

"Well, we've got to buy them now!" she giggles. "Help me."

I pull the jeans up her legs and, good Lord, they're tight around her hips and bum. I'm not sure they'll fit, but we're damn well gonna try.

I heave and yank, lifting her off her feet a couple of times. She can't help giggling, and I have to shush her to keep her quiet.

Suddenly, a knock on the wall and a curt "Out, now please!"

One more heave and the jeans are on; Emma breathes in and pulls up the small fly; and I pull back the curtain. The attendant battleaxe is waiting for us.

"Sorry, I was just helping my girlfriend get these jeans on," I sheepishly explain.

The battleaxe peers past me and scowls at Emma's state of dress (including the wet patch on her bum and down one leg).

"You're paying for them," she orders.

"Yep," I say, as Emma gathers together her other clothes, "that's where we were headed now."

She doesn't look like she believes me, and mutters, "Follow me."

I let Emma walk in front of me, and take the opportunity to ogle her. The jeans look they're painted on; they ride incredibly low and barely reach the top of her butt crack, making her arse look incredibly fuckable; and bootcut really elongates her legs even more. Just the pointy toe and the bottom couple of inches of her metal heels peek out at the bottom.

We reach the till and the battleaxe leaves us to pay, and go back to her post. I don't know why she's acting so high and mighty – she'd deserted her area long enough for us to fuck on her territory. Ha!

Emma's explaining to the cute girl behind the counter that she's buying what she's got on, plus the pink version of the t-shirt. And there comes the problem – getting the security tags off what she's wearing, because the device for removing them is fixed into the desk.

Emma shrugs, lifts herself onto the counter, and lies back virtually on top of the device. Her flat stomach, with its piercing and tattoos, looks fantastic, and the cute girl blushes as she has to stick her fingers inside the waistband, down Emma's arse crack, to remove the tag. Emma tries to hide her smile, but I can tell she's having fun.

She wriggles further along the counter, and the cute girl does the same with the tag on the t-shirt, tickling the back of Emma's neck as she does.

I help Emma down, and she gives me a hot kiss, full of pierced tongue.

I pay the cute girl for the clothes, and Emma catwalks out of the store. It seems like she's really starting to enjoy acting the slut.

***

We stopped for lunch. Emma asked for a jug of water with a little twinkle in her eye. When it arrived, she fished out all the ice and dropped it in her glass, then tipped the jug over her chest! Her tiny white t-shirt went nearly see-through; her nipple piercings could probably be seen from the other side of the room. Then, while we ate, she periodically rubbed an ice cube over her nipples – keeping them hard, and the t-shirt wet. When the waiter returned, he politely asked us to leave.

On the walk back to my place, Emma skipped into somebody's front garden and soaked herself under the sprinkler that was watering its pristine lawn. I don't think the geezer who lived there was impressed, because he came flying out and chased us away, showing surprising pace for a big fella. By that time, though, Emma's jeans and t-shirt were thoroughly drenched and looked amazing.

Fortunately, my flat was only around the corner. We went straight into the shower, both fully clothed, and I fucked her slutty arse before dumping my load in her fertile cunt.

We were both going to make sure she was pregnant by the end of this week – and I was still banking on making it so much fun for her, that she'd want to bring up the baby with me instead of The Boyfriend.

And we're going to have more fun tonight. I've got Emma's other new t-shirt, the pink one, and I'm sandpapering the areas where her tits will be, making the material that bit thinner so that when it gets wet (and I'm going to make sure that it does), everyone will see everything.

***

I told Emma we were going to a club tonight, so she went to prepare in her normal manner – she took a large bottle of WKD and locked herself away to get ready.

I thank the Heavens again that she isn't one of those girls that takes hours to get ready, because the anticipation is torture.

I know she's going to look fucking hot, but what will she be wearing? She's been teasing about all the leather and latex she's bought for this week, but all I've seen so far is the bridesmaid dress and the boots she wore this morning.

There has to be more. I know there's more.

The door opens.

There's more.

She's wearing black latex leggings. Fuck me, they look incredible, like a shiny second skin with a zip from the very low-riding front waistband, disappearing between her legs and, as she gives me a twirl, it reaches halfway up her arse too. Oh God, her arse looks fucking fantastic! The leggings are so tight, there is absolutely no way she could be wearing underwear – not that she ever seems to anymore.

She's wearing the pink girly top I 'prepared' earlier, without a bra; and matching pink high heels with a 1.5-inch hidden platform and a 6-inch heel. The toe is pointy, and there's some black laces detailing on the heel that helps mate the whole outfit together. She always puts thought into these things.

Her grey-blue eyes are made up dark as usual, with a hint of pink to the shadow; and she's got a bright pink lip gloss that lures me to kiss her. Her blonde locks are pulled back in messy pigtails, with a few loose strands framing her pretty face; and she's wearing a black leather studded choker. She looks sweet and slutty at the same time, and I'm torn as to whether we should go out, or I should just fuck her right here and now.

She smiles at my massive grin. "I've solved the problem of you not being able to fuck me in leggings," she says, as she slides the zip down, flashes the diamond in her kitty, then zips back up.

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