Fantasising About Emma - Donor Ch. 15

Back in the car, I can only wait until we're back on the main road before asking: "So that tat got you some action tonight?"

Emma smiles wide. "I knew you noticed!"

"What did you do? Or should it be 'what did he do to you?'?"

"He bent me over one of the sinks and fucked me from behind."

"You didn't go in a cubicle?!"

"No! That's why I was in a hurry to get us out of there – some old guy came in, and he didn't look too impressed. I was sure he was going to complain."

She pulls the dress up around her waist and dips her fingers into her wet and swollen pussy.

"He came inside you, didn't he?" I ask.

"I had to beg him to! He wanted to fuck my arse."

She licks her fingers clean.

"You're such a slut," I tell her, shaking my head, but smiling in spite of myself.

"Yes I am," she beams. "Um, you know tomorrow's Halloween?"

"You're going out with Tyrone." Not a question, because I already knew the answer.

"And the others from last year. Like an anniversary!"

"What about our anniversary?" I ask. "Are you going to be around on Sunday so we can celebrate?"

She takes my hand. "Of course. We'll do something nice, just the two of us."

I can't wait.

***

We get home and, though I miss the twins, it's nice to think we'll be able to have an uninterrupted night's sleep.

I get into bed and nurse my hard-on while waiting for Emma to dry her hair after showering. She's sat at her dressing table, completely nude.

I could watch her forever.

Finished, she turns and smiles at the tent my dick's making of the sheets. "Does hubby like seeing his little black cock slut naked?"

She slides into bed and sinks her mouth onto my cock, swirling her pierced tongue around my pole. She bobs up and down a few times, and I unload my sperm down her throat. She swallows it all with a little smile and a sexy lick of the lips.

"I'm so lucky to have you," I say.

"I'm the lucky one!" she says, lying next to me so I can spoon her. "To have such an amazing husband, who's so handsome and loving and understanding. I was sure you'd go mad when you found me and Tyrone tonight."

"I still can't believe you drank his piss," I say, wrapping my arm around her.

"I'll drink yours too, if you like?"

"I don't want to piss on you. It's more like something you'd do to someone you hate. I love you."

"Still?"

I'm surprised she'd doubt it. "Of course, always. I worship you. You're perfect."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

A pause. She bites her lip, nervously.

"We went to see his plastic surgeon today."

I don't respond.

"We were looking at going to an H cup."

I'm horrified. I slide my hand up from her stomach to gently cup her breast.

"Please don't. You're perfect."

"I could be more perfect."

"I'm begging you not to do it."

No answer. I wait in silence for the longest time, until I hear the change in breathing that signals she's asleep.

I wish it would come that easily for me.

***

As I leave for work the next morning, Emma warns me that she might have gone out before I get home from work.

So I make an extra effort to get back early.

And I'm glad I did. Emma's almost ready to go, and she looks sensationally slutty, with heavy make-up and her hair stylishly tousled.

She's wearing her wedding lingerie – a white mesh and lace corset, with ruffles around the breasts and hips; suspenders holding up white stockings; and white patent thigh-high boots with a 5.5-inch stiletto. She's forgone the thong. Her tits were pushed up into a delectable shelf when we got married, but now the corset cannot hold her glorious double-Ds and her hard pierced nipples poke over the top.

She puts on the final touch of the dress – as ruined by her and Santi, but now with added graffiti. As well as the stuff that was on there before ("SLUT" on the front, and "MY HUSBAND WANTS YOU TO FUCK MY ARSE" on the back), there's now "FUCK ME HARDER", "FILTHY WHORE", "HURT ME" and "PISS SLUT" painted across it in big red letters.

As she smiles and walks toward me, the slit (cut by Santi to reveal her thigh, and ripped higher by Emma up to her hip) parts to show her pierced pussy.

"You really are going out like that?" I ask, kind of surprised but not really.

She kisses me. "I'm so wet right now."

"I can see."

She giggles, just as there's a pounding at the front door. She quickly turns and snorts the final of what must have been several lines of coke from her dressing table, then hurries downstairs.

"Don't wait up."

I'm getting used to playing this game.

***

She wasn't back the next day, which wasn't a surprise. But when she didn't turn up on our anniversary, I became worried. After five days, I was ready to call the police.

I'd hung out at the place Emma had first met the guys, but there was no sign of any of them. I asked around, but just got told 'they'll be busy'.

So, after day eight, why was I still yet to call the police? I was frightened for her, but I trusted her. And I knew that, if the police were to get involved and actually find her, word would get out and she would be fired from her school.

On day ten, I began to think she'd actually left me for them; that I wouldn't see her again, except when (if?) she wanted to see our children. My excuses to her family were running out. I was going to have to tell them the truth soon.

On day thirteen, I notice an official looking letter in the mail from her school, so I open it. She's been fired for her "outrageous conduct". That's it, maybe I should call the police.

I actually have the phone in my hand when the doorbell rings. I hurry to it, just in time to see a black van speeding away, and to find Emma standing unsteadily in front of me in just her white thigh-high boots and a big white sheet. She looks terrible – too thin, and pale, and bruised.

She smiles weakly and croaks, "I'm sorry."

I help her inside and lead her toward the living room, but she whispers, "Bedroom, please," so I carry her up the stairs and lay her on our bed.

"Where have you been?" I ask, trying in vain to keep the hurt from my voice.

"Listen," she says, taking my hand, "They filmed everything and they're gonna send the dvd to you. You should watch it before we talk. Ok?"

Her grey-blue eyes stare into mine, and I've never seen her so serious. Or worried. And is that embarrassment too?

"But..." I protest.

"Go," she says.

I'm upset and angry, but I know now isn't the time for an argument – she can barely keep her eyes open, and is asleep before I'm out of the room.

I stand and watch her for a while, happy to have her back, but worried all over again about what I'm going to see on that dvd.

***

We were both true to her request. She was back, but it was like we were living separate lives. To her credit, she stayed home and took sole care of the twins, and her strength seemed to return quickly.

But I was getting impatient again. I had to wait five more days until the package arrived. Only it isn't a dvd.

It's a boxset of 6 blu-ray disks.

There's a letter included – they're going to release the footage in a series of films for sale online, entitled 'Black-Breeding Slut Emma'. What they'd sent me was all of it, not split up into the chapters they were going to sell or overly edited.

You can get 9 hours of HD video on a blu-ray – there's up to 54 hours of her fucking here?

I go to tell Emma. "It's arrived."

"Watch it, all of it, then we'll talk," she says.

"You don't want to watch it with me?"

With sad eyes, she shakes her head.

I go back downstairs, and with a hell of a lot of trepidation, some curiosity, and a hardening dick, I settle down in the lounge. This is going to take some time.

What follows is the most incredible thing I've ever seen, or will ever see.

It begins with Emma standing in front of the camera, exactly as she was when she went out on that Halloween evening. She explains to the audience that she's a black cock slut, married to a wonderful white man, and that she wants a black baby. And she's willing to do anything.

I recognise Tyrone's voice from behind the camera talk about a safeword, but Emma won't let him tell her what it is. There's a rumble of laughter, and Tyrone tells her she's "asked for it now".

There's one more thing before they begin, Tyrone explains. Emma's going to get a tattoo from each person that fucks her – a small black spade (like from an ace of spades playing card) on her right arm, starting on her shoulder and working down.

I don't like that one bit. It suddenly occurs to me that Emma's been wearing long sleeves ever since she got back.

Shit.

On screen, Emma seems happy enough with it – in fact, she looks very fucking horny. And she urges them to get started.

She's immediately surrounded by seven huge black members, and they are not gentle with her. Within ten minutes of the start, her face is being fucked, and both her pussy and arsehole are being fisted.

And that's just the beginning.

As Emma asked, I watch all of it. I take nap breaks, but don't stop for food – I watch whilst eating.

I can't list everything they did to her, but here are the depraved high(low?)lights:

She gets two black dicks at the same time in her pussy, and then in her arse, and eventually in both at the same time.

She takes a lot of cocaine, mostly snorted or licked off hard dicks or stuffed inside her pussy.

One night, she's taken to the classroom she teaches from at her school, and is royally fucked on every desk. Her whiteboard is decorated with descriptions of how slutty Miss Heart is, and the name of every person to have fucked her that evening (including a few students who are cheeky enough to wear their school uniform), and Emma signs it – this would have to be why she was fired.

She's tied to a specially-designed table where she's laying face down, getting her cunt fucked from below, while guys beat her arse with a variety of whips and canes. They stub cigarettes out on her body and her tongue, using her mouth as an ashtray.

They see what strange items they can stuff inside her. This includes, but is not limited to: a wine bottle; a mix of fruit and veg; sixteen lit candles; and a beer can which disappears inside her completely before she pushes it back out.

They take her to a sex shop. Patrons are allowed to fuck her anyhow, and with anything, they like, as long as no white dick goes in her cunt. At one point she has three buzzing vibrators in her pussy; a double-ended dildo down her throat (the other end of which is being fucked by some fat bitch customer); and both hands of an attractive, petite brunette plunging in and out of her arsehole.

They put a second piercing in her belly button; and a tattoo on her flat stomach, just above her groin – it's made to look like a red ink stamp with two-inch-high letters, and will be obvious with any bikini or cropped top. It reads 'SLUT'.

She admits to fucking her brother, and to wanting to be DPd by her bro and dad while she eats her little sister out (that I'd like to see).

She lets many guys piss on her, drinking it up as much as she can. She gives rimjobs, and even does some scat (that I refuse to go into detail about).

She's tied up, spat on, slapped, written on, soaked in cum... generally mistreated for the entire running time.

And she was almost always begging for more, for her next orgasm, and for them to cum inside her and knock her up with a black baby. She took everything they threw at her. She was insatiable.

I can't tell you how many times I came watching it, but my dick is sore from masturbating by the time the final credits roll. The post-credits sequence shows the tiny tattoos all down her right arm, claiming there are 159 of them. If I hadn't watched the whole thing, I wouldn't have believed them, but that number isn't impossible.

Slowly, I walk upstairs.

Emma's sat on our bed, watching tv. She's wearing low-riding black leather jeans with 5 diagonal zips down each thigh; black leather pointy-toe Louboutin ankle boots with a 5-inch heel; and a baggy blue jumper with a wide neck that falls off her left shoulder. This is now her idea of relaxed clothing.

I love it.

I walk up to her and take her by the hand. I give it a little squeeze, then shift her jumper so it falls off her right shoulder instead of her left – unveiling a smattering of little tattoos over her shoulder. I roll her sleeve up her arm, revealing the tiny spades from her wrist all the way up.

"Is the number they said on the film correct?" I breathe.

"What did they say on the film?" she asks. She's looking at me carefully, trying to tell if I'm angry or not.

"A hundred and fifty-nine."

She pauses and closes her eyes, then nods. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I whisper.

She looks at me, surprised.

"Did you enjoy it?" I ask her.

She nods.

"That's all that matters."

She throws her arms around my neck and kisses me fiercely, and I can feel the enormity of her love. I push her back on the bed, lying on top of her, and we make out like teenagers.

Eventually, we pause for breath. I run my fingers over her decorated arm, skipping from spade to spade. I know we both said we didn't want her to get tattoos on her arms, but the meaning behind this one is very fucking sexy.

"One of these tattoos is the father to our next child," Emma whispers.

"Are you sure you're pregnant?" I ask.

"I'm late," she purrs. "Which means you can fuck me now, if you still want to?"

I tear her jumper off, eliciting a giggle from her, and stop to get a closer look at the new tattoo on her front. It sits perfectly above the top of her leather jeans.

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

"You like your wife being marked like that?" she teases.

"God yes."

"Next time we go shopping together, I'm gonna wear a short top and these jeans, so everyone can see it. Everyone will know."

I growl, my animal instinct taking over. I rip her high-heeled boots off and tug the tight jeans off her legs, then undress myself in a new record time.

I move on top of her. Somehow, my dick is hard again and, as I line my rock hard pole up with her pierced slit, she says:

"I'm gonna get the BCS tattoo removed."

I breathe a silent sigh of relief, but give her a dubious look. "You aren't going to stop fucking around though, are you?"

"You know me too well! No, it's just... I want a little more control. I'm not saying I'm not going to lose control again, but..." Her eyes tear up as she stares into mine. "I'm sorry I missed our anniversary."

I kiss her, gently. "It's ok," and I push into her.

We both moan. She's pretty stretched out; her pussy isn't as tight as it used to be. But the reason for that is erotic in itself.

"I love you," she says.

"I love you too."

I slowly ease in and out of her.

"Did they show the bit where we went to the plastic surgeon?" she asks.

"No," I say, surprised. I was sure I didn't miss anything.

"Probably because I didn't go through with it. As you can tell!"

"What changed your mind?" I ask.

"You didn't want me to do it," she says.

I kiss her, and slightly speed up my movements. But we're not fucking; we're making love.

"So you fucked more guys in those two weeks than you had in the whole 12 months before?" I ask.

"Yesss," she hisses, rubbing her pierced clit. "I want to get gangbanged again."

"When? Soon?"

"This weekend. Maybe I'll go see Alex's rugby team again. Maybe I'll let the other team join in too."

"Oh God," I mutter, feeling my orgasm bubbling.

"But I'll come home to you," she promises, staring into my eyes. "I'm yours, forever."

"I'm gonna cum," I warn.

"I'm right there with you," she pants, and we orgasm simultaneously, our bodies and souls together as one, even our vibrations and trembles in perfect rhythm. I kiss her, long and powerful and passionate, until we both come back to earth – a place that seems so much better for her being a part of it.

I feel myself getting emotional and a little teary. "I love you so much," I tell her.

"I love you too."

I pull out and lie beside her, and we kiss and cuddle. I stroke her belly, surely impregnated with a black baby. And you know what? I don't mind. In fact, I'm as happy as I've ever been.

"I've been thinking," she says as we snuggle together, "Now I can't work as a teacher, maybe I could sell some vids myself."

"What, you mean like 'Black-Breeding Slut Emma'?"

"Not quite. There are websites where you can sell clips of yourself, y'know, short vids you've done yourself. Doesn't have to be fucking, it can just be teasing and that. And there are some for like special fetishes, like pregnancy and that."

"Sounds interesting," I say. "Would you take requests from your millions of adoring fans?"

She giggles. "I'm putting you in control. I'll do anything they ask, if you let me."

My slut again. Sounds perfect.