Fantasising About Emma - Donor Ch. 09

"Punish that butt! Fuck yes!"

Emma's rubbing of her clit becomes desperate and, with an ear-splitting scream, she orgasms -- spraying my face and chest, and her sexy red boots, with her cum. She gazes into my eyes, a look of complete passion and pleasure on her face like I have never seen. She's shaking and trembling, and I'm sure she's only still upright because Steve is holding her up, laughing.

"Tell me again -- who does this pussy belong to?"

"You," Emma breathes heavily, still recovering, as Steve's dick saws slowly in and out of her.

"What about your slutty mouth? Is that mine too?"

"Yes."

"What about your tight little arsehole?"

Emma's eyes widen, and she pulls away from him.

"No."

"No?"

She hops off me and leaps off the bed. "Not my arse."

Steve moves swiftly and corners her. "But you're my slut. And sluts get arse-fucked."

He lunges and grabs Emma, throwing her onto the bed next to me and pinning her face down.

"No, I don't want this," Emma pleads.

Steve pushes a finger past her sphincter, quickly followed by a second. Emma wriggles and bucks, trying to get free. He slaps her butt, still glowing red from its earlier punishment.

"Enough," I interject.

"Shut up," he tells me.

My hands may be tied, but I kick out at Steve. "Leave her alone, she said no."

Steve tugs at Emma's ponytail, pulling her head back. "Tell him to shut up and watch quietly."

I can see the conflict in her eyes -- and I realise that the very fact there's even conflict means that at least part of her wants this.

She seems to come to the same conclusion: "Shut up. Watch quietly," she whispers.

Steve sniggers. "Tell him you belong to me now."

"I belong to him." She avoids my gaze. I can see a tear in her eye.

"Tell him you want me to fuck your arse."

"I want him to fuck my arse until I cum all over his big dick."

Steve guffaws. "Take my cock and put it in."

Emma reaches behind her and grasps his thick pole. She arches her back and pushes back onto him.

"Oh shit, it's so big!" Emma grunts as it splits her open.

Steve's somehow got his phone in his hand again, filming. "Yeah, show everyone what a slut you are. Hold your butt open for me."

Emma uses her hands to spread open her pert arse cheeks as Steve forces his dick between them. Her eyes are closed but her eyelids flicker as she feels every ridge and vein of his cock stretching her.

"That's it, halfway there."

"Only half!?" Emma exclaims. "Oh God."

"You're gonna take it all, aren't you?"

To answer, Emma eases off it a bit, then shoves back, taking a further three inches inside her.

"Nearly there," he urges.

Emma rocks forward and bucks back, time after time, driving him deeper, until...

"That's it!" Steve declares. "Now, look back into the camera and say 'hi' to all your old workmates."

Emma looks back over her shoulder, her hands still spreading her arse cheeks, and flashes her sweetest smile:

"Hi Ann, hi Debbie, hi Julie, hi Andy, hi Dan, hi everybody else... your boss has the best dick in the world! He's already made me cum... oh God, I don't know how many times, and now he's going to fuck my tiny arsehole." She wiggles her full bum for unnecessary emphasis. "Please fuck your anal slut hard," she pouts, and licks her lips seductively with her pierced tongue.

Steve wastes no time and, with no regard for her, immediately starts pounding Emma's anus. She squeals but, instead of protesting, lifts her butt for better access.

"So big, so big," she mutters over and over, and reaches down to rub her pierced clit.

"You're so fucking tight," Steve groans as he slows for a moment; then renews his assault, even faster than before.

Emma's mutters merge into one long moan as she lies there, taking a hammering from one of our least favourite people in the world.

"RAPE MY ARSE!" she yells, and she cums so powerfully I worry she might hurt herself; she thrashes about on Steve's dick while he keeps pummeling her poor arsehole.

"Oh fuck," shouts Steve, and he pulls out and flips Emma over, and unloads all over her pretty face; Emma opens her mouth, trying desperately to catch some of his spunk on her tongue; and he sticks his pole between her lips and buries it in her throat, thrusting a few times for good measure. Finally, he collapses backward, spent.

They both lie down, breathing hard. Emma absentmindedly scoops some sperm off her face with her fingers and licks it off.

"Wait, I want a record of my cum on your face," says Steve, and he points his phone at her.

She makes a show of it, seducing the camera. "If any of you want some fun, give me a call," she purrs with a wink.

***

Emma closes the door after Steve and totters back into the bedroom, where I'm STILL cuffed to the bed, with a painful hard-on.

"Can you let me go now?" I ask.

"That depends," she says as she climbs onto the bed and cuddles into me. "Do you forgive me?"

"For fucking the one man I hate more than anyone else in the world? For telling him you were his and that he could do anything he wanted with you?"

She blows gently on my dick.

I cum like a fountain.

Emma giggles, and laps at the spunk where it lands all over my stomach. She looks up at me like a puppy, with love in her eyes.

"Of course I forgive you," I tell her.

She laughs and shakes her head, almost disbelievingly.

"You didn't ask me to stop, not once. Why not?"

"Because it was obvious how much you wanted it."

"But didn't you get upset? Didn't it make you jealous?"

"I can't tell you," I say. "It's a good job I was tied down or I'd have kicked his arse."

"Speaking of which..." Emma takes a key from under the pillow and unlocks my cuffs. I sigh in relief and rub my sore wrists.

Emma takes my hands from me and showers them with little kisses.

"So, I'm guessing he's the best you've had, right?

"No, you're the best," she smiles up at me.

"I've never made you cum like that."

"You're a better lover."

"But he's a better fucker."

She looks up at me, trying to read me. "Y'know, everyone's slightly different, and good in their own way. But yes, he was the best."

I nod, and kiss her tenderly on the forehead.

"Thank God he didn't cum in your pussy."

"I know. I could feel him past my cervix; he'd definitely have knocked me up. If I'm not already."

"But you'd have let him if he'd wanted to, wouldn't you? In the moment?"

She pauses, embarrassed and worried. "I'm sorry. I've never lost control like that before. I won't do it again."

"I want you to do it again. Not particularly with him, but..."

"There's no way I'm fucking him again."

"Are you sure? You seemed to really enjoy it..."

"I'm positive. I'm sure there are other guys out there with dicks as nice as his. And it's going to be fun finding them."

***

I suggested we go out for our evening meal; somewhere nice, and get a little dressed up. For me, that means a suit. For Emma... she won't show me. She's wearing a knee-length black leather coat, and my old favourite pointy-toe silver stilettos. She did at least tell me that she was wearing something underneath the jacket this time.

She's got her hair extensions in, so her blonde locks curl long over one shoulder and look amazing. Her make-up is done to accentuate her beauty, rather than her sluttiness (for a break in the recent trend), and she looks every inch a top-end model.

I lead her into a small, romantic Italian restaurant that we'd been to once before, on my 30th birthday. Of course, The Boyfriend had had to come with us that time. Not now.

I ask for the empty corner booth, but Emma over-rules and points out a table slap-bang in the middle of the restaurant, right in front of the bar.

No shenanigans tonight, then.

Like a gentleman, I help Emma with her coat, and...

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

She's wearing her pink latex tube dress. Her boobs are barely contained by the translucent material; I can see she's swapped her nipple rings for slightly more discreet bars, but they and her tattoos are still visible through the thin, skin-tight material.

I help her into her seat, stifling a gasp as the dress rides up to display her shaved cooch, and stumble to the chair opposite.

The waiter's eyes have popped out of their sockets. Despite the fact he must have asked it hundreds of times before, he can barely form his next question:

"Can I do you anything drink?"

Emma orders for us (though I couldn't tell you what), and the waiter disappears.

"I thought you said you could never wear that out of the house?" I whisper.

"I figured with the dim lighting in here, I might get away with it."

"And then you picked a table that couldn't be more exposed!"

"I'm feeling naughty," she explains with a wicked grin.

"Well, the waiter certainly likes it."

She smiles, coyly. "It was difficult not to notice."

"Do you want to fuck him?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes and giggles. "You're incorrigible."

***

We have a lovely meal. On top of everything else, Emma is great company.

I rang ahead and got something special planned for dessert. I don't know what's taking them so long; I'm not sure my nerves can take much longer.

Emma's phone beeps. She checks it.

"It's Steve. He's sent me the video from this afternoon."

Suddenly, Steve's voice echoes around the quiet restaurant: "Lick my arsehole."

Emma hurriedly fumbles with her phone to stop it, then collapses into giggles.

I wait for her to recover her poise -- but notice her nipples have hardened under the dress. My dick has been hard since she took her coat off.

"Are you worried about him showing it around?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Not really. I don't live around here anymore, and you're the only one I've kept in contact with from the old office. And, y'know, it's true. It happened. I've got to admit I'm a slut now."

Then it suddenly occurs to her: "Are you worried about him showing it around?"

"No," I smile. "Because, at the end of the day, you're here with me."

She smiles sweetly at me, and the waiter arrives with our desserts.

Her jaw drops.

The large bowl in front of her has a circle of ice cream, cream and fruit -- like a knickerbocker glory, her favourite -- and the circle surrounds a jewellery box with a ring in it. A diamond ring.

I drop to one knee beside the table and take her hand.

"Emma, you make me happier than I ever thought possible. You're perfect in every way, and I love you with my whole heart, body, and soul. Will you do me the honour of being my wife?"

Time crawls so agonisingly slowly as she just stares at me, stunned.

Then...

The corner of her mouth curls into a tiny grin.

"I could never say no to you," she smiles.

We both stand, and embrace, and kiss; I'm only partly aware of some applause, but that's probably more for the way Emma looks in her dress.

I take the ring from its box and place it on her finger. It fits perfectly and sparkles in the flickering candlelight.

"So that's why you took my other engagement ring -- to check the size for this?" Emma grins.

"I was surprised you didn't say anything. I've kept it safe, ready for you to give back to him," I say, slightly warily.

Emma kisses me, hard, then turns to make an accouncement to the rest of the restaurant:

"I'm going to fuck my new fiance, right here, right now. If anyone has a problem with that, they can leave; anyone who wants to stay and watch, you're very welcome."

"What the...?" I ask.

She whispers in my ear, "I always fuck you right after I get engaged."

Then she turns to the staff who, aware of my impending proposal, had gathered to offer their congratulations:

"I hope you don't mind, but you can't stop us," Emma tells them as she kneels in front of me, unzipping my fly. "We won't be too long, promise."

One or two of the older couples are on their way to the exit, and I can see the manager on the phone... to the police, maybe? I cease to care as Emma swallows my entire hard dick in a single movement.

"Oh God," I murmur, as her purrs send vibrations through my erection.

She rolls the top of her tube dress down and tugs on her pierced nipples; her head bobbing furiously; my cock sliding deep into her throat; her eyes locked on mine.

"We have to hurry," I urge.

She stands and sweeps everything off our table, making a complete mess on the floor. She leans over, her pierced tits pressed against the tablecloth, and spreads her legs wide. The pink latex of her dress is so short and tight that it rides up all the way over her arse without prompting.

I shuffle behind her and press into her wet pussy. It's not as tight as it was when I was last in it; but the memory of why is a massive turn-on, so I don't care.

We both groan; and I begin fucking her hard while lovingly stroking her tramp stamp with the arrow of my name.

I notice a couple of smartphones pointed our direction -- Emma fucking on film again!

She lifts one knee up onto the table, giving me better access.

I increase the pace.

Our waiter cautiously approaches: "The manager has rung the police."

Shit.

"Sweetie, does this ring mean I can't fuck other people anymore?" Emma pants between thrusts.

"Of course not, honey," I reply.

Her hand snakes out and tugs at the waiter's belt. "Do you do spitroasts in this restaurant?" she giggles.

The waiter helps her out and hastily releases his fairly-large dick, which Emma immediately sucks into her mouth.

I pound into her, pushing her throat further onto his pole.

Emma reaches behind herself and slides her finger -- the one with my engagement ring on it -- up her tight little anus. Yep, that'll do it.

"I'm nearly there," I warn.

Sirens. Getting closer. Shit.

Emma takes the waiter's cock from her mouth and wanks him with her free hand. "Don't stop until you cum in me," she orders me.

I slam repeatedly into her boiling snatch with all my might.

I can hear the police cars turn onto this road. Oh God.

"I'm cumming!" I yell, and unload into her perfect pussy; which triggers her orgasm. As I fill her up, she sprays all over the table and the floor; her legs collapse; her wedding finger slips out of her arsehole.

Panicking, I ease out of her earlier than I'd like, and straighten myself.

Emma's still lying across the table, holding the waiter's prick, quivering with aftershocks, when the sirens pull up outside, and we're bathed in flashing red and blue lights.

"Oh, I'm sorry I can't finish," Emma says to the waiter. "We've gotta go."

"I'll show you out the back way," he says.

Emma struggles to pull her dress so that it at least covers something, as we follow him through the kitchen and he holds the fire door open for us.

"Come back anytime," he almost begs.

We run into the fresh evening air, hand in hand, laughing gleefully.

Life can't get much better.