Fantasising About Emma - Donor Ch. 06

"Not just a pretty face," I tell her as I take her in my arms, copping a feel of her glorious butt and kissing her, long and hard. I debate again the plan of going out, but am interrupted by the horn of the taxi arrived to pick us up.

"Lets go."

***

This hasn't been the most relaxing journey ever – the taxi driver has spent more time gawking at Emma in his mirror than watching the road. But Emma, rather than worrying, seems to be encouraging him as she caresses her thigh, her fingers getting closer to her crotch with each leisurely stroke.

We pull onto the long road where the nightclub is; its neon sign visible from even this far away. Stopping at traffic lights; it's tipping down with rain. Which actually gives me an idea...

"We'll get out here, thanks," I tell the driver.

"But honey, it's throwing it down," Emma protests.

I smile a wicked smile; the light bulb turns on in her head, and she smiles back at me.

I pay the driver and, when I turn back around, Emma's t-shirt is already going translucent from the rain. I slide my arm around her slim waist and we walk toward the club.

"I wish your school kids could see you now," I tell her.

"I'm not sure I'd be this brave if I were at home," she giggles.

We reach the front door of the club, and the bouncer doesn't take his eyes from Emma's pierced nipples as he waves us in.

Out of the rain and into the heat of the club, Emma notices the reason we're here – a sign for tonight's wet t-shirt contest. And it's due to start in 5 minutes.

"I should have known." She rolls her eyes at me and grins.

"Will you do it?" I ask.

"I already am," she giggles, looking at the state of her top, "I may as well try and get a prize! But I'm gonna need a drink."

She takes my hand and pulls me around the dancefloor to the bar, swaying her hips to the beat as we go. I bump into a few people, not watching where I'm going, only watching Emma's bum and the way the disco lights reflect off the shiny globes of her butt cheeks. I'm in dreamland.

She wriggles through a gap and points her breasts at the nearest barman. I stand close behind her and press my semi-hard dick into her latex-clad arse. She leans back into me and gives a little wiggle; the barman ignores all the others who'd been waiting and makes a beeline for Emma.

"Four Angel's Tits please," she shouts over the too-loud music, then turns to me. "Do you want anything?"

I shake my head, amused, and watch the barman pour four glasses of vodka, then splash some Tabasco sauce into each.

I pay, as usual, and Emma downs the first shot, shuddering at the kick it gives her; then downs the other three in quick succession.

We move away from the bar, and I point over to where she needs to register for the contest. She nods, gives me a quick snog, then disappears into the crowd.

I muscle my way through the masses toward the stage. They're getting ready; a hose is being uncoiled by a smarmy looking guy with a hands-free mic and a gold sequin jacket.

The music fades out and the Host steps to the front of the stage.

"Good evening one and all, are you having a good night?"

A mass drunken "Yeah" answers him.

"Ok then, lets not waste any more time – lets get the girls out here."

Cheers, applause and wolf whistles great the assorted women who line up across the stage. The six girls are quite an assortment – in order: too skinny; too fat; petite and shy; voluptuous loud-mouth; hot; hottest (Emma).

Each are wearing the jeans or skirts they arrived in, but on top they're wearing a thin and tight white t-shirt with the club's logo and their number. Emma is contestant 6 and, even from where I'm standing, I can see the ink of her tattoos through the translucent t-shirt. It skims the latex on her thighs, just barely reaching her crotch.

"Don't they look great? Ok, this is the eliminator. We'll play one song, soak the girls, and your cheers at the end will determine who goes through to the final. Everybody ready?"

More cheers and applause. The music starts, some dance tune I don't recognise.

Assistants run on with buckets of water and throw them over the chests of the contestants. A couple of them, who must have gone up there on a dare or something because they really don't look into it, shy away, and dance awkwardly.

Number 5, who I reckon is Emma's biggest challenger, sticks her double-D cups out to receive the drenching, and dances like she belongs there. Her denim micro-skirt gets drenched too, and looks really good as she gyrates sexily.

As soon as the water hits Emma's top, it goes completely transparent, even to the point where I can make out the detail on her fairy tattoo. It thought the t-shirts she wore earlier were bad (or good?), but this is something else. Everything is on display.

I know I'm biased, but Emma's in a different league, and it's obvious the crowd agree because, all around me, everyone is turned to watch numbers 5 and 6 on the right of the stage. Both have got some moves and seem to be enjoying the attention, letting their hands wander and grope.

The music fades out far earlier than I thought it would, and the girls line up again.

The Host goes along the line – numbers 2 and 4 get a good reaction, but the cheer for number 5 makes all the others look tame. I yell and whoop for Emma, and it's arguable whether her or number 5 were more popular. It was close. Which should make for an interesting final, especially considering how competitive Emma is.

The four elimated girls are shown from the stage.

"Ok, the final! The two girls you've chosen will be playing for this," he holds up a magnum of champagne. "Each girl will get two minutes to please you while I keep the water coming," the Host bellows as he brandishes the hose. "We'll toss a coin to decide who goes first. Number 5, as defending champion, you can call it."

She calls heads.

"It's tails. Number 6, do you want to go first or second?"

Emma looks to me in the audience – I hold up two fingers.

"Ok, number 5 to go first."

Emma moves to the side and watches as number 5 does her best impression of an exotic dancer. She works the stage and works the crowd, pushing her big tits together, encouraging the Host to aim his hose at them. For her finale, she peels off her little skirt and finishes in just a black thong, t-shirt, and stripper heels.

The baying crowd loved it, and want more.

I can see that naughty little grin on Emma's face – the sexy look she gets when she lets go. This could be special.

The music starts up again for Emma, and the first thing she does is slip her heels off and turn her back to the crowd. The Host fires the steam of water over Emma's arse as she unzips her latex leggings, slowly, teasingly, all the way... then peels them down her legs!

As she's bent over, the t-shirt only reaches the top of her butt, and her arsehole and pussy are on full display to the whole club.

The pissed-up patrons go crazy. Emma's got this won already.

She slips her heels back on so the t-shirt isn't all she's wearing, then twirls her leggings around her head and launches them into the crowd. A scrum breaks out trying to claim them.

She tugs the t-shirt down so that only the people closest to the stage can see the metal in her clit, then struts closer to the Host and his hose.

She dances in the spray, running her hands all over her body, giving special attention to her pierced tits. She spins and backs up to the Host, then grabs his hand and lowers it, pointing it up between her legs.

We all have a side-on view as the jet forces the t-shirt up over her hips, and she moves the hosepipe closer to her crotch.

Suddenly, she pulls the Host to her, rubbing her butt into his groin, and pulls his arm around her so that the water stream is right on her clit. She humps back at him and...

The music stops. Everyone boos. Emma keeps going for a moment, oblivious, close to cumming, until number 5 bad-naturedly stomps onto the stage and pulls the Host away from her. More boos.

The Host quickly composes himself, trying to hide his hard-on, and pulls both girls to the front of the stage. Emma fidgets, rubbing her thighs together, not seeming to care that her t-shirt is still up around her waist.

"What a contest!" sighs the Host. "Ok, so who do you want to win? Make some noise for number 5..."

There's a lot of noise. But the vast majority of it is derogatory – booing and abuse – and number 5 throws a strop and stamps off stage.

"Ok, well I guess that leaves number 6..."

I've been to concerts with a hundred thousand people, and I'm not sure I've ever heard a cheer as loud in all my life.

The Host hands Emma the magnum of champagne, and covers his mic with his hand as he whispers something in her ear. She shakes her head – presumably she was just propostioned.

She pops the cork and takes a swig from the big bottle, then tips most of it over her tits to a rapturous reception. She gives the remainder to a hot girl in the front row, coyly waves to the crowd, then vanishes off-stage.

I move as fast as I can against the masses to where Emma will be, and I see her looking for me, surrounded by her new fans. It looks like she's trying to turn them all away.

Finally, I reach her.

"I can't believe they stopped me then, I was just about to cum! You have to take me home, now!"

"Oh, I've got somewhere better," I tease.

"As long as it's close," she mutters.

"Do you want my shirt or something?" I ask.

She smiles sweetly but shakes her head.

Emma gets congratulations, applause, and wandering hands as we make our way to the exit. It's clear I'm with her, but it doesn't stop anyone within range from grabbing or groping at Emma's breasts, arse and pussy.

We hurry outside, the rain still falling, only slower, more persistent. Emma pulls her t-shirt back down in a futile attempt at decency, and I lead her by the hand, round the corner, and stop.

She smiles at me. "I like your thinking."

In the middle of the small square, in the shadow of the church, a variety of water jets fire water upto twelve feet in the air.

I give her a little spank on the butt, and she sashays toward the fountain. The water jets take it in turns of about ten seconds, switching randomly, so Emma stands over one that isn't on. She moves her legs so they're a little more than shoulder width apart, and waits, staring into my eyes with her naughtiest grin.

The jet below her bursts into her crotch, her t-shirt lifted up almost to her boobs. She moans and gyrates. She looks so impossibly hot that my dick is doing its utmost to escape my jeans.

And then the water stops again, and I can tell Emma's frustrated. She looks for the next one to come on, and quickly totters over to it on her sky-high heels, this time squatting and forcing the water to spray out in all directions.

Again, it stops before she can cum.

She slaps the ground in frustration. What she maybe doesn't know is that, every fifteen minutes, all the jets go off at once for 30 seconds.

"You," she points at me, and beckons me to her.

I stroll to her, teasing her by taking my time. She gets down on all fours, her pussy directly above one of the jets.

"Fuck me," she urges, and I am more than happy to help. "This damn thing will go off eventually."

It will, along with all the others. It's two minutes until eleven o'clock.

I ease into her sopping cunt. She humps back against me, and I bottom out inside her. I trace the outline of her tramp stamp over her drenched and almost invisible top.

"Don't be gentle, fucking give it to me," she begs.

Well, seeing as she asked so nicely.

No slow build up; I clamp my hands around her hips and pound into her, her bum slapping against my thighs. The jet next to us goes off and splashes around us.

She digs a sexy heel back into my thigh. "Harder," she pants. I slap her arse; the noise reverberates around the empty square.

Her pussy might be wet, but it's still so tight. I'm getting close already, but I want to hold off for another, ooh, thirty seconds...

"Let me know when your going to cum, I want to cum with you," she cries, as her fingers fly over her pierced clit.

"You'll hear bells," I grunt, and increase to full speed, despite desperately trying to hold on...

The church clock chimes; the bell tolls; and all the water jets fire, including the one pointed at our rutting genitalia.

Her pussy clenches and holds me deep as I erupt into her, our orgasms perfectly synchronised. It's so powerful, it's all I can do not to collapse; Emma screams and thrashes, shoving herself back onto me, her pussy urgently milking me for all I'm worth.

The water being launched into the air, that was giving us at least some cover, shuts off entirely. We're now completely exposed in the middle of a square, in front of a church.

Emma's the first to recover, removing me from her hole and standing up. She giggles. God how I love that sound.

"Sooo," she says as I stagger to my feet, and she pulls her t-shirt back down. It almost covers her crotch. "Today was your fantasy..."

"...which means you get to choose tomorrow," I finish. "Got something in mind, have we?" I joke.

"Someone, yeah." Smiling at my dropped jaw, she sashays in the direction of home, leaving me to stare after her.