Fantasising About Emma - Donor Ch. 15

"I know." She stares at me earnestly, trying to get me to see how badly she wants this. "It's a bit scary, but that's why it's such a turn on." She squeezes my hand and whispers: "I've never been this horny."

Then I see a light-bulb flick on in her head, and she looks back over her shoulder at Tyrone. "How'd you like to be inside me when I do it?" she purrs. Seductively, she unzips the catsuit from the small of her back, round over her crotch, and up to meet the other zip on her flat stomach.

"Shit girl, how much metal have you got in your cunt?" Tyrone exclaims.

"You like?" she teases, wiggling her bum enticingly.

He moves in behind her and Emma spreads her legs wide. She looks incredibly sexy bent over the desk, her fetish thigh-high boots making her lovely legs even longer; her big pierced tits hanging down beneath her; the shiny latex clinging to her tight body; her face glazed with black man's cum; and her back arched to accept Tyrone inside her.

With no ceremony at all, he shoves his fat prick between Emma's pierced labia and deep into her hot, wet hole.

Emma grunts, then moans low and long as Tyrone saws in and out of her stretched pussy.

"Oh fuck, I've missed this. You knew where to find me, why didn't you come back for more?" she asks.

"I got white sluts queuing up for this shit, most better looking and skankier than you, bitch. You ain't nothing special."

There's no way that's true. But I can tell his words stung Emma – she's used to guys fawning over her. Her response is typical of her competitive nature.

She grabs the rolled up fifty and Tyrone pauses inside her as she snorts both lines of the cocaine, collapsing forward onto the desk with a muttered "Oh my God". Tyrone resumes fucking her and she orgasms immediately, a stream of ejaculate forming a puddle on the carpet as she flops about like a rag doll under Tyrone's relentless assault on her cunt.

Her hand searches for mine and holds it tight – I can feel the trembling of her non-stop orgasm and wish that my cock could do that to her. She pants, "Fucking on coke is incredible!"

Tyrone slaps her arse, then again harder.

She lifts her head and looks back at him. "Tell me what to do to be a better slut for you."

"Oh, I will, don't you worry about that."

He withdraws from her and Emma cries out in anguish. He picks her up easily and throws her onto the bed, and she shifts into position on her back in anticipation of getting fucked missionary.

But Tyrone has other ideas. He picks up the nearly-empty bag of coke and empties half of the remaining amount into a line on his cock. Emma doesn't wait to be asked, and eagerly snorts the white powder from the black rod.

"Now I get why people do drugs," she says. "This is fucking amazing!"

Tyrone grins, a kind of "now I've got you" grin.

I was worried beforehand but pushed past it because I thought it would be something she'd try once and that would be it. Now I realise how naive that was. Now I'm properly frightened for her.

As Emma licks and sucks Tyrone's dick, trying to get every last grain of coke, he holds two of his fingers out like a spoon and empties the remaining cocaine onto them.

"Lie back on the bed and hold your cunt open," he orders.

Emma gleefully obeys, using her labia rings to spread her lips wide. Tyrone kneels in front of her and pushes his coke-covered fingers into her gaping cunt, then finger-fucks her hard.

Emma cums, Tyrone burying his face into her crotch to slurp down the powerful jet of her juices.

He licks his lips, "I fucking love squirters," and, without giving Emma an opportunity to recover, pulls her so her butt is at the edge of the bed and shoves his fat cock into her dripping snatch.

"Oh God, fuck me!" she cries out. I can't tell if her shaking is from the force of her orgasm, or the power of Tyrone hammering into her.

They both grunt at every thrust as he pounds into her like a machine.

Then, suddenly, he stops.

"We're leaving," he says and, with his cock buried deep inside my wife, lifts her up so that he's standing with his prick impaling her. She wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he carries her from the room.

"Where are you going?" I ask, following them.

"To see how slutty she really wants to be."

Down the stairs... out the front door...

Tyrone sets Emma down in the middle of our front lawn – she gets on all fours, ready and willing for him.

I stand in the doorway, unsure what to do. If our neighbours don't see them, they're surely going to hear, because Emma isn't quiet when she says:

"I want you to fill me up with your cum."

This might be the most brazenly slutty thing she's done in public. In the front garden of the house she shares with her husband, on a fairly busy road, wearing a black latex catsuit and fetish thigh-high boots, her face plastered in cum, her pierced tits hanging out, the four piercings in her pussy open for all to see... and a hulking black man pushing his cock into her cunt.

There's no hanging about – he goes on full attack, slamming into her and slapping her butt continuously. The sex sounds and moaning echo around the street.

I spot a couple of curtains twitching.

Shit, what if they call the police? How the hell do I explain this?

I can hear Emma muttering over and over again, "Knock me up. Give me your black baby. C'mon, do it."

I'm pretty sure she can't be fertile again yet, but that doesn't seem to matter.

Tyrone stabs two fingers into Emma's arsehole, and she orgasms loudly. Her arms collapse and her legs give way, but Tyrone holds her up and continues pounding into her.

Then...

"YES! CUM INSIDE ME!" she screams for the whole world to hear, and she squirts again as Tyrone empties his balls into her unprotected womb.

I watch them ride out their respective orgasms and silently urge them to recover quickly. They need to get out of sight as soon as possible.

Finally, Tyrone pulls out of Emma and a stream of his spunk flows out of her. He gives her bum one last slap and they stand, Emma looking particularly shaky on her legs.

Without a word, they push past me to get back inside, and a moment later Tyrone reappears with his pants and Emma is dangling her keys from her fingers. She's avoiding my gaze, obviously not wanting to talk right now.

They jump into her car and speed away, in the direction of the club where they met. I'm left to wonder if they're off to find the other two from last Halloween.

***

The police never did arrive – I guess my neighbours took pity on me.

Not surprisingly, Emma didn't come home on Tuesday so I had to call in sick to stay home with the twins. And on Wednesday, my father-in-law helped out by looking after them. He had questions about where Emma was that I just didn't know how to answer. So I didn't.

While at work on Wednesday, I got a call from my parents asking if they could take Emma and I out for dinner on Thursday evening. They were going to a show nearby in the afternoon, so thought they'd come over to visit afterward. I cautiously said yes. I didn't know what state Emma would be in.

And when I got home Wednesday evening, I was in for a little series of surprises, both good and bad...

I find Emma alone and naked at her dressing table, slutting herself up to go out.

"Hi honey. Wow, you're back as a blonde!" Her previously red hair is back to a dirty blonde colour, and is tied into a loose ponytail. It looks great.

"Hey sweetie. Yeah, Tyrone likes his sluts to be blonde. How was work?"

"As much fun as normal. So you're his slut now?" I ask, moving into the room and... "What the fuck is that?!"

Emma looks guilty, as well she might, but she also can't help a naughty little smile. "It's my new tattoo."

On the back of her neck, in one-inch-high ornate letters, are the initials BCS. Black Cock Slut.

I'm too stunned to be angry. "I can't believe you actually did it."

Finishing her bright pink lip gloss, she turns to face me, sitting me on the edge of our bed. "Tyrone took me to see his brothers. Y'know I said I wanted two brothers in my cunt at the same time...?"

"You didn't?!"

A wicked grin. "And his older brother in my butt. I thought they were going to split me open, but I came and came and came... Listen – I need you to understand something." She takes my hand. "I can't say no to him."

"Are you serious?"

"Completely."

"I thought you couldn't say no to me?"

Her only answer is a little shrug.

I gulp and stare into her beautiful grey-blue eyes. "What if he asks you to leave me?"

"It won't come to that."

"What if it does?"

"He wouldn't, ok? I'm just another slut to him."

"That's not true..." I protest, but she stops me.

"Hey, it's ok. I like it that way." She grins and picks up her dress for the evening – what we call her bridesmaid dress. "That's what the tattoo's about. Even he couldn't stop the others from fucking me if they wanted to."

I watch her wiggle her lithe body into the tiny pink latex tube, then pull it up and down trying to cover all her goodies. This is the first time she's worn it since her boobs grew, and with her areolas only just covered, from my position sat on the bed in front of her, I catch occasional glimpses of the silver rings hanging from her labia.

"But you can't stop them either, can you?"

"Why would I want to?" she grins.

"What if you were out with the twins? Or with your family? Can you imagine your dad's reaction if..."

"They know to be subtle about it if we're with someone, they're not animals. Well, not out of bed anyway!"

As she slides her delicate feet into her Jimmy Choo patent nude leather pointy toe pumps with a 4.5-inch stiletto, I stare at the new tattoo.

"I just can't believe you didn't talk to me about it first."

She sighs. "Sweetie, we already had spoken about it. I knew how you felt, but in the end, it's my body. You already stopped me from seeing Santi – you can't keep changing the rules. When we started all this, I did it for you, and I warned you what could happen. Now, I love living like this, and you'd better get on board with it, cos it's only going to get worse."

Worse?! How the fuck could it get worse?

I'm still staring at the BCS on the back of her neck, desperately searching for a silver lining.

"At least you can cover it if you wear your hair down," I say.

She doesn't respond – instead, a small bag of white powder suddenly appears in her hand. She empties it onto her hand mirror and chops it into four lines.

"Is that something else he wanted you to do?" I ask.

"No – this is something I want to do. Scary things turn me on. That's why I came so hard fucking in the front garden. Then I get scared how horny I am, and that turns me on even more... it's a vicious circle. The further I go, the further I want to go."

"Honey..."

"I don't need the speech, ok?" she says, smiling in appreciation of my concern but still frustrated with me. "I could have hidden this from you pretty easily, but I chose to include you. Why don't you try some?"

"No thanks."

"Good – more for me!"

I consider momentarily doing some so that she doesn't have as much for herself, but that's a pretty weird way of trying to protect her.

She snorts the first two lines quickly, one after the other. I mentally scramble for something to take my mind off how happy she looks right now.

"My parents want to take us out for dinner tomorrow night. Is that ok with you?" I ask.

"Should be," she says. "I'll check and let you know."

That means she needs to check with Tyrone.

I need a break from this right now. I head downstairs, hearing her snort again, and put the tv on.

A few minutes later, she pops in and gives me a quick kiss goodbye. "I love you," she says, and hurries out the door.

In spite of myself, I go to the window and watch her stru down the road, looking absolutely sensational. The sophisticated sexiness of the Jimmy Choo heels somehow makes the rest of her outfit look even more slutty – like she's a high-class girl choosing to dress this way instead of being a cheap whore desperate for money.

It's with some confusion that I realise my dick is rock hard.

***

Of course, she wasn't home Wednesday night. Thursday morning, I dropped the kids off with Emma's dad – he was going to babysit all evening as well, which was a little blessing in a day from hell. Work was shit, and now I'm running late. I won't even have time to change before we go out for dinner.

I say 'we', but I'm not entirely certain Emma's even going to be at home waiting for me.

"Emma?" I shout as I walk in the front door.

"Up here," I hear from the direction of the bathroom.

"Are you ready, it's nearly time to go?" I say as I traipse up the stairs.

The bathroom door is open, and the sight that greets me home is staggering.

Emma is kneeling in the tub in a strapless black leather dress and boots, seemingly enjoying the stream of Tyrone's piss that is filling her mouth. It overflows and trickles down her neck, so she swallows to be able to eagerly accept another mouthful... which she again swallows.

With an evil grin, Tyrone is filming her on his phone.

I never thought she'd degrade herself like this.

As the flow turns to a dribble and stops, Emma takes his cockhead in her mouth, earnestly licking it clean.

Tyrone rudely shoves her off him, stuffs his snake back in his jeans, and pushes past me without a word.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Emma shouts after him, her desperation almost pathetic.

I step forward and help her out of the bath. I don't even know what to say about this latest display of depravity, so I find something else to talk about.

"You cut your hair again." Her light blonde locks are now in a short, shaggy, dishevelled style that falls no further than her high cheekbones. It looks great on her.

"I didn't want it getting in the way of my new tat."

Oh. Of course.

She moves to the sink and washes her face. I look her up and down, enjoying how good she looks.

The skintight strapless black leather dress is like a long-ish tube dress, with a zip that runs the full length down the back, and I'm relieved that it isn't as slutty as most of her wardrobe. Her cleavage is pretty demure, and the matt leather skirt reaches down to just above her knees, although there is a slit that runs two-thirds of the way up her thigh. Reaching up underneath the hem of her dress, but low enough to show a little skin through the slit, is the stretchy shiny leather of her black thigh-high boots with a pointy toe and 5-inch stiletto heel. They're the boots I got her on our first adventurous weekend together – it seems like a lifetime ago.

I can't not mention what I've just seen. "So you're doing watersports now?"

"Seems so," Emma answers. She unzips the dress from the bottom hem up to her bum, and spreads her legs to display her gaping pierced pussy and the metal plug stuffed inside her arse. "Would you like to feel how wet it made me?"

She grabs a towel and dries herself, and wipes the dress down – an advantage of leather, I guess.

"What time do we need to leave for dinner?" she asks, lowering the zip again so it just barely covers her pert butt cheeks.

"In about five minutes," I reply. "Shall I let them know we'll be a bit late?"

"No, I just need to redo my make-up and I'm ready."

She struts from the bathroom, with me following, and sits at her dressing table. Her whole outfit shifts and shimmers with every move, highlighting her amazing curves.

"You're wearing that to dinner with my parents?"

"What? It's not that bad." She re-applies her eye-shadow – not too heavy, but still smokily-sexy.

"Would you wear that to see your dad?" Her nipple rings are obvious indentations in the shiny material.

She giggles. "Tyrone wants me to wear it."

"What about what I want?" I ask.

She shrugs dismissively.

"Can't you wear something over it? Something to at least cover that damn tattoo."

She purses her lips and paints them with a dusky pink lipstick.

"I want everyone to see the tattoo. That's the point of it," she says.

She stands and kisses me. At least she's replaced the rock'n'roll ring in her nose with a delicate stud, and changed her "cream filled" and "slut" tongue piercings for one that says "princess" and another in the shape of a heart.

I reach around and lower the zip on the back of her dress to a more decent level.

We stare into each other's eyes. "What happened? You used to love all this," she asks.

Her question has me struck dumb. Is she right? I mean, I know she's going further than she used to, but is it so far from what I used to encourage her to do?

"I don't know," I reply.

She checks the time, and picks up her small black leather clutch bag that matches her outfit perfectly. "We have to go. We'll talk later, ok?"

***

Fortunately the restaurant's close to home so we arrive only a couple of minutes late, and mum and dad already have a table. Dad's eyes nearly bug out when he sees Emma.

We say our hellos, and catch up. The waiter comes to take our drink order, and my mind immediately starts racing – he's black. As he circled the table, there's no way he could not have seen Emma's BCS tattoo.

But what are the chances that he'd be part of the gang that know the meaning of the initials? I try to relax.

But dad noticed the tattoo. "So what's that mean, on the back of your neck?" he asks. "BCS?"

"Oh," Emma says, smiling in my direction, "It's one of his little sayings for me – Beautiful, Cute, Sexy."

"That's nice," my mum says.

"Yeah, he wanted me to get it," Emma grins, and squeezes my hand.

Not strictly true.

The waiter returns with our drinks and takes our food order, standing behind Emma the whole time. He doesn't notice me watching him and his regular little glances at the back of her neck.

My heart starts beating a little faster.

When's he going to make his move?

He knows what the tattoo means. He can see how hot Emma is, he'll obviously want her.

I'm on full alert, and am eagle-eyed when he brings our food. As he leans over to put Emma's burger in front of her, I think I catch a slight whisper over the background music and chatter – and Emma definitely heard it. She spots that I've noticed something has been said, so quickly acts like nothing has happened.

We eat. Well, everyone else eats, I just sort of pick at my chicken and leek pie. It's nice, but my stomach's full with butterflies. Emma and I exchange tiny meaningful glances throughout, and she can barely suppress her naughty grin.

The waiter's in a hurry to clear our plates away, and I overhear only one word of his whispered command to Emma – 'gents'. While dad's commenting on the great service, Emma excuses herself and totters to the toilets.

The waiter follows moments later.

I'm so tempted to excuse myself too – not to stop them, but to watch. My understanding is that Emma has to do whatever he wants. A blowjob? A titjob? If he wants to fuck her, he surely won't be able to resist her arse if he finds the butt plug...

This really is a special kind of torture.

And then I start to worry about how long she's taking. It's been eight minutes already.

My parents and I are running out of small talk.

Mum glances at her watch.

After what feels like an age, Emma struts back to the table. There definitely seems to be an extra bounce in her step; she's doing a bad job of hiding her naughty grin; and she's freshly spritzed some perfume on herself, surely to hide the smell of sex.

"Sweetie, don't you need to be up early tomorrow?" she asks me.

"Er, yeah," I mumble, playing along. "Bloody work. We should make a move."

Dad insists on paying (like usual), and we say our goodnights. As we walk out, I quickly pull the zip of Emma's dress back down a bit – it was showing the lower curves of her bum. I think I got it before mum or dad noticed.