tagAnalFantasising About Emma - Donor Ch. 02

Fantasising About Emma - Donor Ch. 02


After our first attempt to get Emma pregnant was aborted in favour of having further attempts in the future, what I expected to happen, happened.

Firstly, and most obviously, they confirmed she was without child. Secondly, Emma had a heavy attack of guilt.

I'd expected it, because she's a good, honest, loyal person – and she had, in effect, cheated on The Boyfriend. I'd have been stunned if she hadn't been upset. I was a little surprised that she hadn't felt the need to confess – I was partly relieved (less trouble and hurt for everyone) but partly disappointed (if they'd split up, I was still hoping she'd come to me).

What this all meant was that she was really unsure about doing it again. I mean, even properly. She asked me to give her some time and space so she could get her head straight, which I duly did.


I remember the first time I knew there were hidden sexy depths to Emma. I mean, I knew from the first second I saw her that she was gorgeous and hot, but she's such a sweet girl that it can be difficult to imagine her doing anything naughty. She kept that part of her well hidden.

This was several years ago, when we hadn't known each other that long, and our friendship was still blossoming. We were talking about my upcoming duties as usher at my sister's wedding, when she mentioned that she had been bridesmaid at her friend Cathy's wedding. I had never met Cathy, but Emma had told me she was a tiny redhead with big fake tits and a pussy piercing. She sounded hot.

"Oh my God, you should have seen the dress Cathy wanted me to wear! It was so inappropriate."

"What was it?" I asked.

"It was literally just a bright pink latex tube dress, y'know, with no straps or anything, and was about this long." She held her hands about two foot apart.

The mental image of that dress was hot; but the mental image of Emma in that dress nearly blew my mind. But it was to get better...

"As a bridesmaid dress? To a wedding?" I asked.

"I know! I couldn't wear that in front of her grandparents and everything, God, that would be so wrong. On a night out, maybe..."

BANG! My mind did explode this time. Just the possibilty that this pretty girly-girl with her exquisite curves and sweet smile would consider dressing like that at ANY time – that was enough for me. That became my newest favourite fantasy.


Two months passed without a word from Emma until, finally, she rang me up:

"Hiya, it's Emma."

"Hello you, how are things?"

"I'm ok thanks, I'm just here with The Boyfriend."

"Cool," I reply, reading her hint that we need to be careful how we talk.

An awkward silence, that I break: "So..."

"We'd like to try again," she blurts out. "If you don't mind, that is?"

"No, of course, if you want to. When were you thinking?"

"Well," she said, all business, "how about this weekend?"

"Sounds good. What time shall I be there?"

"We were talking and, because The Boyfriend's got to work this weekend, we thought maybe Saturday after lunch through to Sunday afternoon?"

I was surprised. "You mean, stay overnight?"

"Yeah, if that's ok with you? We thought there'd be more chance of me getting pregnant if we did it, er, more than once, y'know?"

"Yeah, that makes sense. Let's do that."

"Thank you," she said, and I could hear the relief in her voice. "We really appreciate it."

"No worries. I'll see you Saturday."

Yes yes yes yes yes!


During my Wednesday lunch hour, I decided to ring Emma when I knew The Boyfriend wouldn't be around. After I gave her a minute to get out to her car so we could talk in private, we discussed the preparations...

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"Alright, thanks. You?"

"I'm good, thanks. I'm looking forward to the weekend."

"Yeah, about that." Her tone immediately had me worried. "Look, what we did last time was wrong and I want to do it properly this time, ok?"

This wasn't a shock, but was still disappointing. "Yeah, ok."

"Thank you. We should do it as we agreed the first time around, no kissing or anything."

"Ok," I reluctantly agree, "although I thought this was an opportunity."

"What do you mean?" she says, warily.

"There must be things you want to do that The Boyfriend doesn't, so I thought you could try them with me."

She's flustered for just a second, and then finds her words: "Oh my God, we can't do that!"

"Why not? Have you got some kinky fantasies you're not telling me about?" I tease.

I can virtually hear her blush on the other end of the phone. "It's not that, it's just that that would be like cheating again, and I don't want to do that."

"I don't think it's cheating if these are things he doesn't want to try," I tried to rationalise.

"We're not doing it. Besides, you might not want to do the kind of things I might want to do."

"I'll try anything with you."

"Oh God. Look, I've got to go. I'll see you Saturday."

And with a click, she was gone, leaving me with a dialing tone and a whole herd of thoughts rampaging through my mind. Are her fantasies really that kinky? I hoped I'd get to find out.


This reminded me of my favourite lunchtime phone call with Emma, from a couple of years ago...

"My costume arrived today," she told me.

"Oh, for your cousin's party? What did you go for in the end?" I asked.

"Little Red Riding Hood. Only it's a bit little-er than I thought."

I closed my eyes, trying to picture her in a tiny red dress. Oh God. "Yeah? So what's it like?"

"It's a red dress, bascially, with some white lace edging and apron, and a black bustier and black frilly skirt, but... it's a bit short."

"There's nothing wrong with showing a bit of leg – you've got great legs."

"Yeah, but you can see my underwear."

Damn, this costume sounds hot. "What, you mean like if you bend over a bit or something? Nothing wrong with that either, maybe just wear some frilly knickers or something..."

"No, I mean you can see my underwear even when I'm standing up. You can see like half my arse."

The idea of Emma showing herself off like that had my dick straining my trousers.

"Oh wow," I said. "I want to see it, can you send a pic over?!"

"No!" she screeched, embarrassed.

"Look, you have like the best bum in the world, you shouldn't worry about it."

She sighed. "I think I'll wear leggings under it or something, they'll go ok with my heels."

"Which ones?"

"The black ones with the open toe and the little bow, y'know?"

"Nice. Yeah, you could do that. If you're not happy with it, why don't you change it, get something else?"

"The party's this weekend, there isn't time. Anyway, I do like it and I want to wear it, it's just a little shorter than I expected when I ordered it, that's all."

"Ok. Well, it sounds really nice."

"Yeah. I wanted to go for something a little sexier."

"Well it certainly sounds like it's that. I'm sure you'll look incredible. Don't forget to get some pictures!"

She laughed. "We'll see!"

That weekend, I watched Emma's page of everyone's favourite social website until pics were posted – and I wasn't disappointed. Even with the black leggings she'd decided to wear, she looked ubsurdly fucking hot. I don't know how any of the other guests managed to keep their hands off her.

She had an eye-catchingly deep cleavage (unusual for her to put her perfect titties on display), which gained a day-glo yellow straw wedged between them part way through the evening. God, how I'd have loved to have been that straw!

But the best pic was of Emma's cousin, looking horny in a tight white nurse's costume, bending over; and Emma behind her, her own legging-clad bum barely touched by her dress, spanking her cousin's thong-clad arse. The cherry on top – the look on Emma's face that showed how much she was enjoying herself.

I whacked off five times that day to those photos.


So today's the day.

As Emma said she wanted to do it properly this time, I've decided to play it cool. I'm banking on her horniness taking over once we get started. If it doesn't, then maybe I'll start suggesting we change it up a bit...

I arrive at Emma's place a little before 2pm and the door swings open before I reach it.

I'm slightly underwhelmed. It looks like she was even more serious than I thought. She's wearing a pink Tinkerbell t-shirt and the same frilly white skirt from last time. Her feet are bare, and she's not wearing any make-up. She still looks gorgeous, but it's like she wants me to think she hasn't made an effort for me this time.

"Hi," she says, and even her tone is more serious. None of the shy playfulness of last time.

"Hello you," I say as I follow her into her home, dumping my bag by the door.

"Can I get you a drink or anything?" she asks.

"No thanks."

"Well..." she seems a little uncertain about herself. "I wasn't sure if you'd want it, but I got you some viagra. Y'know, just in case..."

That's unexpected, but at this point I'm willing to take it as a good sign – it must mean she wants a lot of sex, right?

"Thanks, but let's see how we go first," I reply.


With no further talk or ceremony, she strides up the stairs and into her bedroom without looking back to check if I was following.

She didn't need to check. Of course I was going to follow.

I got in the room and she was perched on the bed, avoiding my gaze. "You want to get started?" I ask.


I pull down my jeans and she interrupts: "What are you doing? Clothes on, remember?"

"You've seen it before, and they'll only get in the way. It's ok if you want to keep yours on, but I'm gettin' nekkid."

My attempt at lightening the mood didn't work, and just elicited a whispered "Oh God," from Emma. I'm finding it easier and less awkward the second time around – it doesn't seem like she is.

I sit on the bed next to her. "Are you ok?"

She utters a curt, "Yes," and shuffles away from me. "Let's just get started. Lie down."

I shrug and do as she asks, my dick not even semi-hard.

"I could do with some, er, inspiration here," I say.

"Well what do you want me to do?" she asks indignantly.

Baby steps, I tell myself. "You could try dancing a little bit, maybe?"

She sighs, heavily. "I'm not going to play stripper for you."

Damn. "I didn't say you had to take your clothes off, I just said dance."

She sighs and puts some generic pop crap on her stereo – I don't care what it is, I'm not really listening, it's just a beat for her to move to, and she does, hesitantly. It's really obvious that she's uncomfortable.

"Try to relax. We're friends, I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to, ok?"

She grins appreciatively, but just a second later, frustratedly throws her hands in the air.

"Oh God, I didn't want to drink this time..." She takes a bottle of vodka that she's got hidden away beside her bed, and takes a quick swig of it, wincing slightly at the strong taste. She offers the bottle to me but I shake my head no. Like last time, I want a clear head to enjoy this to the max.

"Do you always keep alcohol by your bed?" I ask with a cheeky grin.

She shakes her head as she takes another, longer swig. Immediately, and quicker than the alcohol could have worked physically, she starts swaying her hips with more confidence.

A twirl. A leg kick. Tantalising glimpses of the upper parts of her thighs. I start stroking my cock, gently, wanting her to know that it's working, but to encourage her to go further.

Another gulp of vodka. The moves get slower; more sensual. My dick is hardening.

She tugs at the hem of her t-shirt, lifting it a little; then again, higher. She rubs her hands over her bountiful breasts and I groan. She hears it and looks at me – and flashes me that naughty smile I was getting worried I might not see today.

She glances at my dick that's about two-thirds of the way there, and suddenly lifts her t-shirt off, tossing it away.

My mind melts... she's not wearing a bra... she stands in front of me with her gorgeous globes and beautiful butterfly tattoo on full display.

I stare – my jaw's gone slack; my dick's gone hard. Rock hard.

"You're perfect," I whisper as she crawls toward me.

"We'll have none of that," she says as she straddles me in reverse cowgirl, letting her skirt cover our crotches. I feel her delicate hand grasp my hot rod. "Let's put this to use, shall we?"

There's no teasing; no playfulness. She points my dick at her wet hole and lowers her herself, firmly and deeply onto me. My pole jerks involuntarily, jumping for joy at being back. At being home.

"Oh...my...God," she moans.

Remembering my plan of playing it cool, I underplay my response: "Feels good, huh?"

"Even better than I remember."

She raises herself, then forces herself down until I bottom out. We both groan at the electrifying sensation, and I wonder if my plan of not jacking off earlier was wise – my thought was that I didn't want to waste an orgasm on a tissue when I could enjoy it with Emma now – but already I can feel the excitement growing quicker than I expected.

She begins bouncing on top of me in short, quick movements, and I can feel her milking me with her hot pussy.

"It fits so perfectly," she pants. She stops bouncing and instead rolls her hips, exploring how my dick feels from every angle. "It's like it was moulded for me."

She spins around to face me without my dick leaving her soaking hole, and resumes her short, quick bounces. Her slender fingers run down her body and under her skirt, and goes to town on her clit.

Now with her perfect tits and sexy tattoo in view, I've got little hope of holding back for long. In fact...

"I'm gonna cum."

"We're gonna make a baby! Tell me when."

I grab her by the thighs, meet her movements with a few thrusts of my own and grunt, "Now!"

Our moans are in perfect harmony as our orgasms strike in unison. I can feel my cum pulsing into her, and her walls thrumming on my pole. I hold myself deep in her, savouring every millisecond, every perfect sensation, as she collapses forward onto me, burying her head into my shoulder.

Slowly and gently, I return to Earth. Emma keeps jerking on top of me, and I envy the length of her orgasm. Until I realise the jerking has sped up and become more rhythmic. She's crying.

"Hey, hey, what's up?" I ask, genuinely concerned. I stroke her hair, trying to console her.

She lifts her head and sniffs, trying to stop the tears. She stares, not into my eyes, but into my soul. Then looks away... is that embarrassment? Shame even? Why??

"When I convinced The Boyfriend it would be better for us to have sex more than once at a time, I argued that we should probably do it regulalrly over like a week, y'know, to be sure. We said we'd see how a weekend went first," she said. "The idea of doing this every day for a week..."

She sobs. I lovingly wipe a tear from her cheek, and I feel her relax on top of me.

"Can you take me to the emergency clinic for the morning after pill?" she whispers.

Stunned, I search her face for any sign that she isn't serious.

"Are you sure about this?" I ask. "You may not get pregnant anyway, but..."

"I don't want to miss the opportunity." With complete determination and a twinkle in her eye, she says:

"I want to do what you said. I want to do the naughty things I can't do with him."

She smiles at my slack jaw and wide eyes and, before I can find any words, she kisses me, lovingly, with increasing passion until she's writhing on top of me, my hands exploring and grasping her peachy bum.

She gives one last wiggle, then stands and shimmies her way to her wardrobe, swinging the doors open.

"You've got a fetish for heels, right?"

I shrug. "I like them, I don't know if I'd go so far as to say..." She smiles at me, knowingly. "Yeah, I guess," I confirm.

"Why don't you pick some for me to wear while you eat me out?" she winks.

I leap off the bed and cuddle her from behind, cupping and squeezing a breast. "You're the best, you know that, right?"

She shrugs and moans as I tweak a nipple and glance into her wardrobe. For a girl who doesn't wear heels very often, she's still got a decent selection.

"What, no thigh-high boots?" I tease.

"I'm not a hooker!" she protests.

"No, but do you have any idea how much money you could make if you were?"

She elbows me in the ribs and playfully pushes me away.

"I'm gonna buy you some," I say.

"No you're not!"

"Yes I am, and you can wear them with this," I hold up her Little Red Riding Hood costume, "and the world will explode from too much sexy."

"You want the world to explode?" she grins.

"No, but what a way to go."

"Pick some shoes," she says, "and I'm going to teach you a lesson."

"What kind of lesson?" I ask.

"You're going to lie down and I'm going to trample all over you!"

"Oh no," I say, " only Little Red Riding Hood in thigh-highs can do that."

She pauses, surprised. "I was only joking."

We're suddenly serious. "But you want to do it, right?"

She nods.

I smile. "Like I said, I'll try anything with you."

"Oh God." She leaps into my arms and kisses me, hard and with lots of tongue. I grab her bum tightly, feeling my dick start to stiffen, never wanting to let go.

She pulls herself away from me. "Now hurry up and pick some shoes or I'm going to pick for you. I'm dripping here."

I tear my attention to her wardrobe and the shelves stuffed with shoes. I quickly ignore a third of them that are clearly more "sensible" (for work etc) and scan the dressier majority. Peep-toe, strappy, platform, hidden-platform, kitten heel, high heel, round-toe, pointy-toe, black, blue, yellow, pink, nude...

...silver. There they are. My favourite pair that I've seen her wear a couple of times before. A classic pump in silver with a pointy-toe and approx 4-inch heel. I love it when she wears these.

I pick them up and Emma smiles. "I knew you'd pick them," she says with a naughty grin.


"I've seen you looking when I've worn them before. A girl knows when she's being looked at."

I shrug, and she puts one hand against my chest to steady herself as she slips the sexy shoes on her petite feet. Immediately she's taller, and I feel closer to her somehow so I reach for her but she spins from my grasp and perches on the edge of the bed.

"You have to do something for me now," she purrs, and she slides her skirt down her long legs, kicking it off in a flash of her silver shoes.

As she sits back with her legs spread lewdly wide, I see her gash for the first time today and gasp as I notice she has shaven herself completely clean. Just as I had asked her to.

"I did it this morning. You said if I did, you'd never stop." She grins invitingly.

I run my fingers over her puffy mound, delighting in how smooth and wet she is. I bury my face in her crotch and she squeels with glee as I cover my face with the clear liquid dripping from her steaming cunt. It occurs to me that I'm also slurping my semen, but I'm so horny that I just don't care and, honestly, mixed with her juices, it doesn't taste too bad.

I take a breath. "Actually, what I said is that I'd never stop if you got a piercing down here." I nibble gently on her clit, and she shudders beneath me.

She looks down at me – long blonde hair loose over her face, lidded eyes, pouting lips, and fingers pinching her nipples – and I've never seen a sexier look from anyone.

"I might just do that."

I get on all fours and kiss her foot in its sexy silver shoe, running my tongue over it and around the stiletto heel, then up her leg, all the way up to her pussy and her clit, and I jam two fingers into her tight hole, slamming them in and out as hard and fast as I can.

"Tell me a fantasy... one of your fantasies," she mutters between gulps of air.

I'd better not start with the filthier ones... "I want to cum in all your holes."

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