Fantasising About Emma - Donor Ch. 14

I'd even got used to her brown hair. She kept it the same chestnut colour but let it grow out a little. And she kept the ring in her nose instead of the little stud I preferred, but the 'rock-chick' look was working for her. She wore skintight leather jeans or wetlook leggings, with her black leather biker jacket over a small crop-top, almost all of the time. Her cleavage was permanently on display -- she loved having bigger tits and she wanted everyone to see them.

She was still cute, but with an edge that was a little more obvious. And hot.

Emma made no secret of the fact she wanted another baby, and had stayed off the pill. She'd always wanted at least three kids -- I guess that came from being one of three herself.

On my last day before going back to work, Emma gave me a titjob -- the first sexual contact we'd had in what felt like months. She wasn't ready for full sex yet, but we both knew this was the first step back, and that we'd shortly be trying for baby number 3. It felt like we'd finally put the whole Santi drama behind us.

Part of me was looking forward to going back to work for a rest. What a mistake that was. I stepped back into a maelstrom.

Turns out one of the accounts guys in our French branch had taken offense to being fired, and had broken back into the office to destroy our records and systems. They'd managed to stop him before he got everything, but they wanted me to go over there for a week (maybe two) to get them up and running again.

I argued that there had to be someone else; I had two babies at home and couldn't leave them for that long. But the problem with being so good at my job -- I was the best person to send.

Emma took the news surprisingly well, especially considering I would be away for her birthday. Obviously, she was upset to begin with, but I got her to see that I didn't really have a choice. We definitely couldn't afford for me to be out of work any more.

As I was leaving, she told me to hurry home. She was feeling she'd be ready to have sex again in the next couple of days, and she wanted her first time after giving birth (her "second virginity", as she called it) to be with me.

Then she teased me by saying she wanted to be pregnant before she started slutting around again.

As if I wasn't motivated enough already to hurry back home.

***

The French office was such a mess... I don't even want to talk about it.

Early mornings and late nights have really taken it out of me. I speak to Emma every day, if only briefly, but it's not until now (part way through the second week) that I've got back to my hotel room early enough to webcam with her.

I don't know what I expected, but I wasn't prepared for the sight that greets me when we connect.

Emma's sat at her dressing table, so I can only see her top half -- but what a half. Her brown hair is pulled back into a messy short ponytail with a few loose strands framing her achingly pretty face, which is made-up like a cheap hooker. Her eyes are heavy and dark with long fake lashes, and... is that a cigarette or a spliff hanging from her gloss red lips?

Her dress -- or at least, I assume it's a dress -- is black latex with red edging (that matches her red lips). It has a high neck with a dominatrix-style buckle, and a large keyhole cut-out that her DD breasts are nearly falling out of.

She doesn't look like a young mother. She looks like a full on fetish queen.

"Wow. Hi. I don't know where to start... I'm stunned," I blather.

She smiles, cooly. "Thank you."

"New outfit? You been shopping?" I ask.

"Well, I thought if you're going to be working so hard to earn all this money, I may as well spend it on something worthwhile... on something we'll both enjoy."

I grin. "I like your thinking."

"I thought you might," she smiles.

"Is that a cigarette?"

"No," she grins wickedly. "How's work going? Will you be home tomorrow?"

"Honey, I'm so sorry, they're making me stay on another three days."

She stubs out the spliff and pouts playfully, but I can tell it's to hide how upset she really is. "You can't miss my birthday."

"I know, I wish there was something I could do. If there was, you know I'd do it."

"I need you."

"Is everything all right? How are the kids?"

"They're fine. It's me. I need dick. I'm so fucking horny, it's driving me crazy." She blinks back tears. "And we need to talk."

"I'm sorry, honey. I'm hard for you too." I show her the hard on tenting my trousers. My heart breaks at how upset she is. "We can talk now, at least."

She nods and smiles weakly. "I want another baby," she says.

"I know."

"I mean, now. I don't want to wait any longer. I want to get pregnant now."

"Ok. First thing we do when I get back, I promise."

She avoids looking at me, chewing her bottom lip. "I... I don't want it to be yours."

"What?!" I splutter. I'm not angry. I'm beyond surprised. Flabbergasted.

"Before, when I thought I might get pregnant by someone else... it made me feel like such a slut. The idea of having a baby by someone other than my husband..." She shivers with erotic energy.

Wow.

"Honey, it's one thing to feel sexy being pregnant with another man's kid, but to actually bring them up... you're asking me to be a father to another man's child."

"No-one else needs to know. It would be our sexy secret. A secret that would turn us on for the rest of our lives."

"It's not fair to the kid."

"How is this different from what you were going to do for me and The Ex-Boyfriend?"

"Of course it's different!"

"How?" she challenges.

I know better than to argue with her when she's in this mood. "Look -- let's think about it, ok? You have to understand this is a huge thing you're asking."

She calms slightly. "Ok. Be back on here, same time tomorrow. Don't be late."

She stands -- oh fuck! It is a dress, and it's so short that I can see up it to the glinting rings hanging from her labia, and... is that a ponytail butt plug!?!

She ends the connection.

***

It's not fair, is it? Time flies when you're having fun, but crawls when you're looking forward to something. It should be the other way around.

Work held me up again, so I don't even have time to change before logging on and...

Oh my fucking God.

Emma's sat in front of the screen, smoking a spliff and looking even more slutty then yesterday. Her make-up is much the same, only even heavier; and she's recoloured her hair -- it's now jet black with a few thin streaks of bright red, and is stylishly dishevelled. She has a new larger nose ring in, and looks every inch a rock slut.

Except, surprisingly, she's wearing her wedding dress. With her tits having grown since she last wore it, they're now spilling over the top and, far from being classy and restrained like they were before, they now look positively indecent.

I can already feel my dick hardening in my trousers.

"Happy birthday, honey. Wow, you're looking incredible. I love you. Have you had a good day?"

She smiles coquettishly. "Hi hubby! I've had the best day -- I've been pampered and spoilt. It's been lovely." She's slurring a little -- I spot a nearly-empty large bottle of her favourite WKD on the dressing table next to her.

"Yeah? What did you get?"

"Cash, mostly. Alex got me..." She sticks her tongue out to display two new tongue studs, each with a logo on the top bar -- they say 'CREAM FILLED' and 'SLUT'.

"Fuck, that's hot," I murmur.

"I know! Oh, and I got these..."

She stands, and I can see the bed and half the floor is covered in plastic sheeting. What on earth is she planning? Then she lifts her dress to mid-thigh to reveal a pair of black patent just-over-the-knee fetish boots, with a viciously pointed toe, 6-inch thin metal spike heel, and a row of silver buckles running up the side. They're similar to a pair of knee-high boots she already had, but these are more extreme.

"Wow, they're hot! Who got you those?" I ask.

She avoids my gaze, instead admiring her fuck-me boots. "Santi."

Shit shit shit! I'm immediately on full alert. One question thunders around my head, and I'm not sure I want to ask it. But I need to know...

"He's there, isn't he?"

"May-be," she sings.

"Emma..." I begin, but she cuts me off.

"It's my birthday. Don't you want me to have what I want on my birthday? Don't you love me?"

She pouts and gives me the big puppy-dog eyes. She looks impossibly adorable.

All I can do is nod.

Her grin is as wicked, and as sexy, as I've ever seen. Her eyes are sparkling with excitement.

"You can come in now," she hollers in the direction of the doorway, and Santi enters carrying a bulging plastic bag.

She leans in to talk to me, and I can't take my eyes from her incredible cleavage. "You know I was going to keep my wedding dress 'for posterity'?"

"I was surprised to see you wearing it."

"Change of plan."

She empties Santi's bag over the floor -- I spot cans and bottles and... are those paint brushes?

Yes. Santi pops open a can of bright red paint and Emma dips a brush in it, before writing SLUT in foot-high letters across the front of her dress.

"Oh my God, honey, what are you doing?" I ask.

"It was Santi's idea. I think it's hot," she smiles naughtily.

"I want to see those boots," Santi grunts. He grabs the bottom hem of her dress and hacks at it with a pair of scissors, cutting a slit up to unveil those sexy boots, past her knee...

"How high?" he asks Emma.

"Higher."

Another cut.

"Higher," Emma urges.

Another cut. The slit reaches about two-thirds up her thigh.

Emma grabs the slit and rips it open, all the way up to her hip. As she moves, I catch a glimpse of the silver piercings in her pussy. "I'm gonna wear this out at Halloween," she says. "Let's make it good."

She grabs a bottle of what looks like strawberry dessert sauce and squeezes a blob onto her dress, right above where her nipple must be. Santi removes it with one long lick of his tongue. They do the same with the other nipple, before Emma dumps the whole bottle over her tits. Then she sticks the nozzle of the cream down her cleavage, and empties the can inside the front of her dress.

Santi buries his face into her chest, hungrily slurping as Emma giggles gleefully. He presses her big boobs up and together until a mess of sauce and cream oozes out, and her pierced nipples pop free.

While he enjoys himself, Emma gets a second can of cream and sprays a line from her tits, up her neck to her mouth, finishing with a little pile on her twice-pierced tongue.

Santi accepts the invitation, taking his time to follow the trail, pausing to give her a hickey, before their tongues twirl together in a sloppy kiss.

I suddenly realise that, in spite of my misgivings, my hand has made its way to stroking my rock hard dick.

She's just too hot.

As Santi goes back to smothering her neck in love-bites, Emma lights another spliff, really seeming to savour the hit. She throws her head back and I hear her mutter, "Mark me, make me yours."

He whispers something in reply that I can't quite make out, but it makes Emma giggle. God, I love that sound. It's somehow sweet and girly, yet erotic and filthy, all at the same time.

She pulls away from him, her neck and shoulder covered in little marks, the top of her dress stained red with strawberry sauce. With a bottle in each hand, she stands in front of her webcam and stares into the lens as she pours chocolate sauce and golden syrup into her mouth, letting it overflow and stream down her neck, tits, and dress.

She massages the sticky mess into her bust while Santi paints something unseen on her back.

"What are you doing, sweetie?" Hearing my pet-name, I think she's talking to me for half a second -- but realise she's talking to Santi.

"Let him tell you," he smirks.

Emma turns around so I can see what Santi's painted on her back.

That bastard.

"Well?" Emma says, impatiently.

I read it out loud: "My husband wants you to fuck my arse."

She disintegrates into a fit of giggles and tackles Santi to the bed, then kisses him, and they make out passionately.

He reaches around and unzips her, then tugs the dress down -- their lips locked together the whole time.

Is that...?

"Is that a new tattoo?" I ask.

I just caught a glimpse of something on her ribs, just below her left breast. Emma's eyes widen like she's been caught, guilty. She tries to break the kiss and hold the dress up, but Santi's persistent and slips the dress over her hips.

Surrendering to his strong grip and the kiss, Emma's turned slightly so I can see...

Holy fuck, are you FUCKING KIDDING ME!?

Right where I thought it was is a large black outline of a heart, with 'Santi + Emma' written inside it.

"Emma, what the fuck is that!?" I ask.

She twists her head away from Santi's lips, but he doesn't stop and instead nuzzles her neck, holding her body tight on top of his.

"It was a thank you," she (badly) explains.

I guffaw in astonishment. "A thank you? What the hell for?"

"I was so lonely that first night, after you left... He came to stay."

"He's been there all this time?!"

"Yeah, but we haven't fucked or anything... Oh God!" Santi has slipped a finger inside my wife. "Well, he hasn't fucked my pussy anyway..."

"I can't believe it," I say.

"We haven't, I swear! My arse, my mouth, my tits, but not my pussy..."

"I meant the tattoo. I can't believe you'd do that."

"I didn't," she breathes, squirming, still obviously enjoying Santi's attentions. "He did."

"What do you mean?"

She stares back at me, a look of complete lust on her face as Santi pumps two fingers inside her snatch. "I told him he could tattoo anything he wanted anywhere on my body. So he did this himself."

I'm shocked as, out of nowhere, I cum. My spunk spurts into the air, covering myself and splatting a little on my laptop screen. I hurriedly try to clean up, a little perturbed that I obviously found it that hot, and catch Emma's little mischevious grin when she spies what's happened.

"If you like that, you're going to love this," she purrs, and extracts herself from Santi's grasp. She signals for him to get out of the way and she lies on the bed in his place.

With her sexy-boot-clad legs splayed wide, she takes hold of each of her labia rings between her fingers and pulls, so her lips gape open.

She locks eyes with Santi and purrs, "Fuck me, lover."

"NO!" I protest.

Emma speaks to me but watches Santi's cock intently as it lines up at her entrance. "I meant what I said that I wanted you to take my second virginity. But you're never here. He's always here for me."

All I can do is watch as the Gibraltan arsehole pushes his dick into my wife's vagina, her pussy stretching to take a cock inside it for the first time in months. She moans loudly as it slides in and, when he bottoms out, she shivers with a mini-orgasm.

"Oh fuck, these piercings are fucking magic," she mutters.

Slowly, Santi builds up the pace, and Emma moves her hips to meet his thrusts, gazing up into his eyes.

They aren't fucking. They're making love. I know the difference.

They kiss, long and tender.

I feel powerless, and heartbroken, and... horny?

I'm hard again.

I want to stop them, but I'm going to enjoy watching in the meantime, and I stroke my dick. I wish I was there so I could throw Santi across the room and beat the crap out of him. But would I? Because a part of me is loving this too.

The hurt and the betrayal are somehow spurring me on, but there's something else that has me both worried and harder than ever.

I focus on Santi's unsheathed cock as it pistons in and out of my wife's unprotected pussy.

The worry wins:

"Shouldn't he be using a condom?" I ask.

They don't even seem to have heard me, lost in their smooching and love-making.

"Emma!" I try again. She jumps, seemingly surprised that I'm still there. "Couldn't you get pregnant?"

"I need you to understand what I told you yesterday."

"What?"

"I want another man's baby, and I want that man to be Santi."

The world, the universe, and everything, stops.

Then the words I'd dreaded more than any other. "I love him."

"Emma, you can't, what about..." I'm babbling non-stop angry nonsense, but I don't know how to put these feelings into words.

She sighs frustratedly, pushes Santi off of her, and walks on shaky legs to the camera.

She mutes the volume on their end and whispers so only I can hear, her grey-blue eyes finally betraying some sign of the conflict within her. "Like the tattoo and everything else, it's my body. I love him, he loves me, and we want a baby together -- like I was going to do with you when I was with The Ex-Boyfriend. I want to share this with you, I still want to spend the rest of my life with you, but I'll understand if you don't want to. We'll speak when you get back. I love you. I hope you can still love me too."

She turns back to Santi and gets him to lie on the bed, then climbs on him in reverse cowgirl so that she's facing me.

She points his member at her pierced pussy and lowers herself onto it. I can't hear the moan, but I can see (and almost feel) it. The look of complete pleasure on her face is captivating. Do I really want to deny her that?

As she bounces blissfully on Santi's cock, I find myself gazing at the changes he's made to my sweet slut wife.

The hair is the most blatant. I still prefer it longer and blonde, but she still looks fantastic.

The nose ring was his idea too. Again, I prefer the small simple stud she wore before, but the ring works with the look she's going for (or he's going for). I have to admit it's sexy.

And the tattoo that he actually did. It's actually quite well done; he's got some skill. And the location -- over her heart -- can't have been an accident. I find myself wondering if she'd have really let him do anything. How far would she have gone? Would she have let him tattoo her legs or arms, like she said she doesn't want?

If she was horny at the time, she'd have probably let him tattoo 'SLUT' across her forehead. Oh fuck, I love how submissive she gets.

And despite all of it, all the tattoos and piercings, and the fetish boots and rock-chick hair, she still somehow retains that slight cuteness that drives me crazy.

Crazy enough to be jacking my cock as I watch my wife fuck the other love of her life.

Santi's humping up into her from below now, and I'm hypnotised by the jiggle of Emma's motherhood-enhanced double-Ds.

There isn't anything about her I don't love. I'd do anything for her.

And that's when I finally accept the truth. Not only is it ok if Emma gets pregnant by another man -- the idea of Emma getting pregnant by Santi is a massive turn on.

I catch Emma's eye through the webcam and mouth 'I love you' to her.

She smiles, and orgasms, her ejaculate spraying into the air, some even hitting the webcam.

And Santi pushes up deep into her and holds himself there, signalling he must be cumming too, which triggers another one for Emma and a second for me. All three of us in ecstasy at the same time, all three of us loving the taboo of Santi's sperm seeking out one of Emma's eggs; of her belly growing bigger with his baby.

This whole thing began with me as the donor. Now it's someone else.

As my orgasm fades, the eroticism dissipates and the painful light of day returns to the forefront of my mind.

Although I can see Emma sucking on Santi's cock, preparing him for a second round, I can't watch anymore, and cut the connection.

I have to get home ASAP.