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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Emily - 2
by Stephanie Keating (no address provided)
***
Emily was twenty years of age and pregnant when I met
her. My name is David, David Baxter. I was 50 years of
age at the time. Rejected by her parents and shunned
by her Mormon church, she found brief refuge with her
Mormon Aunt Elsie and Uncle Gord; but Elsie kicked her
out when she discovered Gord trying to get into her
pants. I took her in and married her a month before
the birth of Oliver. (MMF, voy, preg)
***
PART 2
Our first month of marriage and the last month of her
pregnancy were for both of us blissful. We stopped
having sex because of specific medical concerns, which
only served to raise the sexual tension for me—lying
beside her, holding her, knowing that another man's
baby was developing inside her belly and knowing that
she wanted more children, even with my lie to her that
I'd had a vasectomy. Fantasizing frequently, I
compiled a mental anthology of primal lust scenarios
that left me aching and sore before the next wave of
high arousal swamped me, driving me into yet another
masturbation to orgasm.
I didn't push the issue of more children with her at
all—just validated the other man's child she'd
conceived. It was during this time that she
tentatively disclosed to me that it was a man in her
Mormon church who had seduced her, although she also
told me that she'd had sex with a boyfriend once
before that.
She gave birth to Oliver with no complications. Her
only distress was the absence of her family and
continued shunning by her church. Her parents had
disapproved strongly of her marriage to me, 50-years-
of-age, even though it would give Emily some
legitimacy as a married woman in the church. Emily
turned 21 two days before Oliver arrived. She was
still blissful in my care and all of this outweighed
the disappointments.
I really connected with Oliver and spent lots of time
with him (I still do). Emily nursed him for three
months and we began having sex again after the prudent
six weeks. I was confident she wouldn't get pregnant
by me until she stopped nursing; and in that time I
visited my doctor to get a sperm count. I was married
in my mid-twenties for three years and my wife
couldn't get pregnant. It turned out that she had some
ovulation problems, but I didn't know about me. I was
excited and relieved when my doctor announced gravely
that I was effectively sterile!
After Emily stopped nursing, she quite quickly
regained her cute figure, even her small breasts. As
she transformed into the spring flower she had been, I
saw any number of fantasy guys after her nectar. She
held the hope of a large family from her Mormon values
and every time I fucked her, I took on the role of
some other guy lusting to take my wife and impregnate
her.
I kept my disclosures to her simple for a while,
whispering as we rode to orgasm together that I wished
I hadn't had the vasectomy, and that it would be nice
if it was another man who could spill his sperm inside
her and make her pregnant. This elevated my orgasms to
monstrous waves of pleasure and Emily would respond
with her own heightened orgasm and a hissed or
breathless, "Yesssssss!" But I was wise enough to know
that for Emily it was the fantasy of pregnancy and not
fucking someone else—although I'm certain there was
some arousal she denied herself about illicit sex.
A month or so before Oliver's first birthday, we
started serious daytime talks about artificial
insemination. I went along with the exploration, but
always found some way to bring it into doubt as
unnatural. Instead, I kept the alternative—her having
sex with another man for when we were lovemaking in
bed. I talked to her about finding an appropriate
stranger—healthy and with good pedigree. That she
could see it as just a function of getting pregnant.
And just like I always found doubt about artificial
insemination, Emily found doubt about surrogacy.
After a couple of months of this, I was out of ideas
and out of patience and began telling her how
attractive she must be to other guys—a lovely body,
pretty and very feminine; sexy too, without even being
aware of it. I took every opportunity—while she was
dressing or undressing, doing the housework or
shopping—reflecting back to her the little things
about her smile, fragrance, or movements that
triggered arousal or attraction. And she really
enjoyed al this, and only putting the brakes on if I
made it too raunchy.
Things must have been changing for her psyche about
all this, because one night when we were making love,
I was really attentive to the utter and consuming
sensuality of her, watching her face and the shifting
of her expressions, the softness of her lips and
breath and the magnificent little noises of sexual
delight she was feeling. Overwhemed, I chanced telling
her my desires:
"I wish it was another guy inside you like this right
now..." .She didn't respond as I grew harder and more
passionate.
.".. another guy fucking you—seeing and feeling all
this...." I rammed my cock into her and she gasped.
."..another guy with potent sperm ready to make you
pregnant...."I rammed harder and her pelvis rose high
to meet my force.
"Yessssss...," an exquisite little affirmation floated
on the hush of her breath.
I pounded deep and slowly a few more times, a part of
me wanting to hurt her, and murmured through gritted
teeth, "You need to say it again," as involuntary
noises of high arousal began to escape her throat and
she bit down on her lower lip. She squeezed her eyes
tight, rolled her head, and then let out a deep groan
from somewhere down near her womb:
"Yesssss! Yessss! Yessss! Someone to make me
pregnant." Tears came to her eyes as she opened them
to gaze into mine: "You'd still love me?" She was
quietly weeping and I slowed my pumping to deal with
her tenderly.
"I married you when you were pregnant with Oliver.
I've loved and accepted him and you unconditionally.
That's never going to change."
"But what if I feel love for the man I have sex with?"
"Do you still love Oliver's father?"
Silence, before a hesitant, whispered, "Yes; a part of
me..."
"But you still love me?" I asked.
Emily lifted her head and softly kissed my lips.
"Always," she smiled.
I felt my ardour grow and my cock stiffen. I slid in
and out the full length of my cock as I told her,
"Then fall in love with the man who fucks you--Let it
happen," I heard a disembodied me say: "He'd be a fool
not to fall in love with you, anyway."
Whatever meaning Emily attached to what I said in that
moment, whatever effect it had on her, she groaned
from deep in her belly again before the animal
expression reached her throat and she bucked into
orgasm. Even then she found the presence of mind to
urgently plead, "No! No! Don't come yet. Keep fucking
me. Pleeeease!"
Emily had always been a single orgasm girl. Now I was
wondering as I felt her pulsing orgasm subside.
"Say things to me..." Emily implored in a whisper:
"Say things... please!"
I guessed her to mean that I should talk dirty to her.
"Everything's okay now, sweetheart... I love you so
much, but I can't give you baby. We'll find someone to
fuck you... Okay?"
"Okay."
I was enormous inside her and she was flushed with
glassy eyes and perspiration beading on her face.
"But it won't just be for the baby, will it?" I asked.
"Mmmm...mm," she shook her head slowly and caught a
wave of lust.
"You're going to enjoy fucking, aren't you!" I pounded
deep and held it there: "You're going to have orgasms
with your lover aren't you?" She didn't answer, but I
could tell from her body response that this was her
deep desire. "Whoever it is that fucks you, I want you
to give yourself to him completely and have the best
orgasms you can. I want to accept all his sperm inside
you. I want you to come into my arms afterwards
completely satisfied. Okay? Answer me! Okay!" I jammed
my cock as deep as it would go.
"Yess! Oh my god YES! Ohhhhh! I've been thinking about
it. Yess! I want to do it and if I don't get pregnant
I'll do it more and I'll cum! If you want it to happen
too, I'll cum, because I want to fuck another man! Oh
my god YES!!"
I knew she was over the top once she'd said the word
"fuck," a word her Mormon upbringing usually censored
her from saying.
"That's sexy, Emily—when you say 'fuck'. You like
saying it don't you. You're a slut when you say
'fuck'."
She bucked beneath me in response.
Say if again, my beautiful slut. Say it!
Emily opened her eyes to look at me, but they rolled
back and closed as she thrashed her head from side to
side and raised the volume on her sounds of animal
ecstasy.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh! Fuck! Fuck! Yesss! I'm cumming! I
want other men to fuck! Fuck me! Oh! Jesus! Fuck me!!"
Suddenly, she rose to her second orgasm, rocking her
pelvis wildly to take me and her fantasy into her
body; and I couldn't hold back as I pounded deep to
the bruising of our pubic bones, knowing for sure that
this incredibly beautiful young woman--my religious
wife--was now fallen. Sooner or later Emily would have
another man's cock buried where my cock impaled her,
his sperm spurting into her—both of them in the full
knowledge of making a baby with my permission.
I collapsed beside her, both of us in heavenly bliss;
but soon I was whispering how happy I was, knowing
that she would take a lover; how nature must have
intended this or she would not be so beautiful and
desirable. I told her it would be fun when she goes
out to make herself extra pretty and just be aware of
men who looked at her, knowing they'd jump at the
chance to get into her panties.
Emily giggled: "I don't know if I could do that... I'd
feel like the bad girl in the neighbourhood...," she
giggled again.
"It's okay," I said, "no family or church here...
and... I want you to be a bad girl. Give it a try
tomorrow. I'll go with you if you want."
"Okay," she said, "if you think so." We snuggled into
each other and slept.
Now I don't know how many of you know that Mormon
women are discouraged from wearing pants; it's a
skirts only religion so that gender roles can never
get confused. Apparently there is Mormon underwear
too, but when I asked Emily about it she just blushed
and said that she never wears it. Anyway, when Emily
came to me in her pregnancy she was wearing flowery,
fairly unfashionable skirts that would be considered
frumpy on an older woman.
A little bit retro, a little bit teen suits my style,
and that's what Emily transformed to—not a complete
change of style but enough to make her fucking
alluring to anyone with balls.
We went out the day following our pact. I encouraged
her to wear a little more make-up than usual and to
wear one of her sweeter skirts with a two inch high
heel (she usually wore flats). She had simple pastel
panties beneath, with a little lace trim. I told her
that I'd look after Oliver (I usually did anyway) and
off we went to the local mall. I told her how pretty
she looked and she became increasingly nervous, even
though nothing was planned, except to make herself
visible and aware of guys who were interested.
We sat in the food court with coffees. I gulped and
then told Emily I was taking Oliver for a walk. I
whispered she should enjoy herself and to think about
our plan and our beautiful fucking of the previous
night.
"Remember," I said, "You need a guy you can spread
your legs wide for and invite him in to make a baby."
Then I was away.
I hadn't told her when I'd be back but returned
cautiously after an hour, hoping to se her I
conversation with someone. She wasn't there. I waited
around for a while before I took off down another wing
of the mall. I'd just turned a corner when right at
the end, making a turn was Emily waking hand I hand
with some young man who looked casual and funky. My
heart made a skip as I scuttled off to catch up a bit.
I carefully turned the corner they had turned and not
20 yards ahead. Emily was laughing radiantly at
something as the young man pulled her into his arms
and stared into her eyes, their foreheads touching. He
made to kiss her, but she pulled away. I decided to
get back to the food court ahead of her and wait. The
minutes later she arrived alone looking fresh and
radiant.
"Have fun?" I asked.
"Yes," she looked around her, "I'll tell you in the
car." I couldn't wait.
I was erect in anticipation by the time I was in the
driver's seat.
"You're horny," I guessed as I looked at her flush and
that little give-away nibbling of her lip.
"Yes—a bit," she said with obvious excitement.
I slipped my hand up her skirt. She left her legs
slightly parted as my fingers found the wet crotch of
her panties. I teased her pussy with my fingers and
she opened her legs a little more.
"Very horny!" I declared. "Someone you'd like to make
love to?" I asked her softly.
"Yes!" She hissed so softly. "I didn't think it could
happen so soon—so easily."
"What's his name?"
"Paul. He's a graduate student. He gave me his
number."
"Let's get home and talk about it in bed—I think
Oliver is going to sleep."
I'd no sooner undressed Emily, kissing her tenderly,
than I'd laid her back and was sliding my cock up and
down her slit in the wetness of her arousal over Paul.
I told her how absolutely exquisite it was that she
was lubricated so much for another guy and that I
wished it was Paul's cock that she was enjoying. I
slid my cock easily into her hole. She received it,
her pelvis-rocking deep.
"You think you could let him do you if he was here
right now?
"If you really didn't mind... yes... Oh my god, yes...
You'd really let me?"
"Let you? I'd love it more than anything else in the
world right now...to see you aching and hungry for
Paul's cock. Close your eyes and imagine I'm Paul."
She closed her eyes and I fucked her as sensuously and
erotically as I could, talking to her as if I was
Paul. I told her how beautiful and sexy she was and
how she was so lucky to have a husband who allowed her
to be with other guys.
The only time Emily joined the script was as she
arrived at an earth-shaking orgasm and she
breathlessly whimpered and squealed, "Ohhhh! Fuck me
Paul... Make me pregnant... Please cum inside me...
pleeeeease!" I spilled my sperm inside her as deeply
as I knew I wanted Paul to be with my sweet little
Mormon bride--her breeding pelvis stayed locked with
mine receiving my sperm as if it was Paul's. Then the
post-coital bliss--the kissing and holding until
Oliver awoke.
Emily started cramping that night signalling her
period was immanent. For her their remained a sense of
dirtiness about menstruation that was part of the
religious stuff, I guess. The following evening her
period started and sex was taboo for the next five
days. A couple of days after that and her libido
liquefied into growing sensuality. I knew the pattern.
Ovulation was beginning and that's when she was at her
sexual hottest. We'd begun talking about Paul and she
was nervously preparing to call him.
Day five post-period and we began a Paul fantasy in
the afternoon. It was Saturday. I was determined to
crank up the tension by teasing and withholding,
encouraging her to call. Eventually, Emily phoned Paul
only to find, "This number is no longer in service."
She was devastated, trying the number over and over
until she gave up and withdrew in distress. I couldn't
get her to respond to me. All I could do was be near
her to comfort her.
Sex was dead for us both as daily she tried the number
before finally giving up after about a week. I was
really disappointed too and even got her to go with me
on campus during the week to see if we could spot him.
While we were there, Emily told me she had been there
herself a couple of days earlier. And then the summer
break came and she knew he was somewhere in Ontario—
unreachable.
As the summer advanced, our mutual interest in sex
revived and I was creative enough to encourage her
experimenting with her clothing. She is small enough
that she went through a bit of a teenage clothing
thing as a result of being denied normal teenage
expression when she actually was a teen. It never
appealed to me too much—too cutsie, I think; although
there was a sweet dress with tiered skirt that
balanced sexy with innocent.
We continued walking out with the intention of her
making herself seen and desirable: the mall; parks;
music venues...
We fantasy fucked about a lot of imaginary young men.
Even got into hot fantasizing about her uncle Gord
(see "Emily" by Stephanie Keating), during which I
found out that getting caught by her aunt kissing and
hugging wasn't all that happened. She'd spread her
legs for him to finger fuck her. Beyond the
fantasizing, though, this died on the vine.
It was fate, I'd like to believe, that one day in the
middle of September, I was looking for something and
went into Emil's beside table draw. There was what
used to be Paul's number. On some kind of hunch, I
called it. A male voice picked up right away. It was
Paul, and I stumbled into a conversation.
"Do you remember a girl named Emily you met in April
in the mall; you gave her this number."
Hesitation, "Yes..."
It's okay, I assured him, I'm a good friend. She tried
to call you, but your number was out of service."
"Yeah. For a couple of weeks. I thought I'd lost my
phone, so the company suspended service."
"Look. Emily was infatuated by you and was really
disappointed. Can we meet?"
And so we did. Within an hour we were face to face in
a local Starbucks. Paul was lithe and good-looking; he
carried his intelligence in his eyes with confidence;
he seemed genuinely warm and tender.
I knew I had to be straight with him: "Look, I know I
look like an old guy to you. I'm 30 years older than
Emily, but she's my wife."
Paul looked momentarily stricken.
"It's okay, Paul," I touched his arm, "Emily and I
have an understanding. She needs time with a young man
closer to her age. It's natural."
"Needs time with? What does that mean?"
I lowered my voice: "She wants sex with you—no strings
attached. It's been a difficult summer for her
thinking about you." My pulse increased in the face of
his obvious doubt: "Look, I'm begging you... if you're
inclined... she's pretty, sexy, warm, and ever so
sweet... please say yes... I'm not a jealous
husband... honestly... To be frank," I lowered my
voice further and leaned forward, "I'm impotent and it
turns me on that you might make love to her—no
restrictions at all. If you want to, you can even fall
in love with each other."
"David, I'll be honest with you. I remember Emily
really well. I had the hots or something for her from
the minute I set eyes on her. I'd have taken her to
bed with me that afternoon, except that she pulled
away from me when I went to kiss her and she said she
had to go. I was hoping she'd call, but realised we
only had my number between us. Listen. I'll take my
chances on this one and say yes... I'd love to sleep
with Emily more than you know... Is this like a...
watching thing for you?"
"I'd like too; but that's up to Emily and you."
"Well, I'm okay with it; let's agree to leave it up to
Emily. Jesus, I can't believe this is happening! Are
you sure this is okay?" Paul asked one last time.
"Absolutely!"
As it happened, this was a Saturday. Emily had gone
shopping across town, and Oliver was with aunt Emily
for the day. I made arrangements for Paul to come to
our home at 6:00 pm, and then rushed home to prepare
the ground.
I got home at 3:00 p.m. fifteen minutes before Emily
stumbled in the door in excitement.
"I got a lovely skirt today! Wait there, she dropped
everything else, I'll show you!"
A few minute later she was back from the bedroom
twirling around and spinning out a lovely purple and
rich red silk skirt she said was made out of old
saris.
She stood in front of me, smiling: "What do you
think?"
"Exquisite! Exquisite!" I exclaimed as I ran my hands
up her legs over the skirt. The fabric slipped over
her silky skin to the legs of her panties beneath,
across her lower belly where my hand rested over the
rise of her mons. "Exquisite and very sexy," I
grinned.
"Don't be naughty!" Emily grinned, and pulled away
playfully.
"I have a surprise for you this evening." Emily looked
curious: "I have a friend coming over for dinner at
six. He's an old friend you've never met, but I know
you'll enjoy his company as much as me. You can wear
your new skirt. It's lovely. In fact, just do yourself
up a little bit. I'd like him to be most impressed
with the gorgeous woman who married me. Okay?"
"Okay. But you must tell me about him."
I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing a light
supper and lying about my 'old friend'.
Emily came out of the bedroom at six, spinning out her
skirt with a smile and looking soft and sensual, her
long fair hair cascading silkily over her shoulders
after spinning out with her skirt. Then the doorbell
rang.
I went to the door and opened it without saying Paul's
name: "Come in. We've been waiting."
Paul stepped through the door into view. Emily gasped
in utter shock. Her jaw dropped until she regained
composure, which quickly broke again with her tears.
"Paul! Oh my god! Paul!" She ran to him sobbing deeply
and threw herself into his arms.
Paul looked at me, hesitantly over her shoulder, saw
my smile and wrapped his arms around her, stroking her
hair and hushing her gently; and then they found each
other's lips. Within a minute intimate tenderness was
replaced with the sensuality of Paul's hands brushing
over Emily's back to feel the contours of her hips and
bottom. Emily momentarily pulled back and looked over
her shoulder at me.
"It's okay, Emily, this is what it's all about—
everything we talked about; everything we wanted—
everything."
Emily didn't say anything, but returned to Paul's
arms. This time, when Paul's hands invited the
pressure of her pelvis, she moved it into sensuous,
slightly gyrating contact with Paul's groin; and I
knew that it felt so good for both of them.
Paul whispered, "Where is your room?" Supper was
forgotten as Emily turned him with a smile toward our
bedroom and they past me clinging to one another.
"Do I stay or come?" I asked, and was surprised with
Emily's easy answer.
"Come, she said softly," looking back at me, "It's
your bedroom too."
As Paul and my incredible young wife caressed and
kissed each other, standing beside the bed, I pulled
the top covers down so that they had the under sheet
to lie on and I had a clear view of everything. I
heard a zipper and looked to see Emily releasing a
big, but not overly huge dick. It was already veined
with rock-hard arousal. Emily was looking between
Paul's eyes and dick as she manipulated it. Paul's
hands were under Emily's silky skirt and caressing her
ass over pink silky panties.
And then he brought his right hand to the front under
her skirt and was masturbating over-under her panties—
I don't know; but Emily's arousal was rapid and
intense. She was already vocalising her pleasure
instinctively. Her eyes and face had softened into
ecstasy, with the telltale biting of he lower lip.
"Beautiful," I heard myself say in something that
sounded like a groan: "Fuck my beautiful young wife,
Paul. Oh! Sweet Jesus! Fuck her!"
Her white blouse and bra were an untidy state of half
off as Paul lifted her onto the bed. His pants, which
Emily had already unbelted, fell to the floor. Emily
fell back, clothing in complete disarray—her skirt
around her waist as Paul pulled her silky pink panties
down to one ankle. I slipped them off and held the
crotch to my face, smelling and tasting the musk of my
aroused bride.
Paul stepped out of his underwear and knelt between
her legs. They were both like a couple of teens, eager
to skip all that might be preliminary so that they
could know the depths of each other. It suited me as I
stripped myself naked and slowly masturbated my super-
hard cock at the sight of all that was and would be
happening.
It was fascinating and unbelievably erotic to see
Emily's legs apart and so completely ready to receive
a stranger. Paul spent a minute rubbing his cock up
and down Emily's wet slit. The last time, I thought,
that this had happened, she got pregnant with Oliver.
Paul had pulled a condom from somewhere and had torn
it open. I'd had every intention of having him
bareback and lying to him that Emily was on birth
control; but at this last minute I wanted the erotic
stakes to be as high as they could be for the three of
us. Emily had already laid her hand on his to gesture
that the condom was unnecessary. I added to her
gesture:
"No need for that, Paul. Fuck her bareback. It's
okay..."
The head of his dick slipped inside her and I nearly
came: "Beautiful," I groaned again, "So beautiful!"
Emily rocked her pelvis up and forward to receive him
and Paul entered her body with the wet sounds and
smell of their coupling exciting my senses into a
terrible lust.
I could see them beginning to get lost in each other
completely. Where each of them ended and began was no
longer definable by where their skin touched. They
were becoming each other.
In a moment of regained consciousness, Paul asked,
"Should I pull out when I cum?"
Emily was already softly stroking his face and saying,
"No...no...no...no... No need to pull out. Cum inside
me. She smiled and kissed his lips lovingly: "Okay?
Cum inside me."
I was lusting like some wild animal, but my voice was
steady, but slightly shaky with the intensity of it
all: "It's okay, Paul. We both want you to shoot your
sperm inside her belly. Honestly. Her womb is fertile
and ready for you to make a baby. My wife... Fuck her
pregnant..."
Paul's head whipped around to look at me in
astonishment.
I assured, "It's okay, Paul. Really," Emily was
reaching to draw him back down on her: "Please, Paul,
look at her and listen."
He turned back to Emily. What he saw was exactly what
I saw, an expression of sensuality and overwhelming
need.
She began so softly it could hardly be heard,
"Please... please... please... fuck me." She was
writhing beneath him, drawing him in with her hunger,
her most primal need. He began moving insider her
again, pumping long and slow, but not with abandon
yet. "Fuck me, Paul," she demanded, hoarsely, "Make a
baby inside me, I really want it."
Emily was sensuously seductively rocking and grinding
her pelvis and Paul was responding instinctively, his
pumping becoming more aggressive; his cock terribly
swollen and stretching Emily wide and wet. Then I
could see them becoming lost in each other again.
Boundaries disappeared.
Emily's pussy was leaking her fluids profusely and
Paul's pumping friction had whipped her musky juices
into a white fine froth that collected at the base of
his cock and the entrance to her hole.
Emily was speaking ever so quietly into his ear, not
to conceal from me, but in tenderness: "I love you,
Paul. I love you so much... make my baby for me and my
husband... Oh! It's all so good!"
Then Paul: "I love you, too, Emily... It's true."
Emily groaned and panted as she rose to a very rapid
and intense orgasm, punctuated by a scream of pleasure
that was completely animal.
Paul was still pumping. Emily was lost somewhere, her
face flushed and eyes glazed, licking some moisture
back into dried lips, until Paul found her mouth with
his and allowed their saliva to exchange.
Emily was rising to her second orgasm, I could tell.
Paul was on the same wave: "I'm ready to make your
baby, Emily. You really want it! My baby! Say it! Say
it!"
"Oh Jesus... Yes! YES! Cum in my pussy! Make my baby!
Oh god! YESSS!!"
She came again as Paul groaned like a beast and
hammered his cock so very deep inside my sweet wife. I
could see the thick base of Paul's cock pulsing as he
emptied his sperm inside her in beautiful hot streams.
I knew too the sensation he was feeling on his dick as
the same pulsing contractions of Emily's body were
milking his seed toward her womb.
I was coming too and knelt quickly behind Paul just as
the first spurt of my sperm came in a long stream that
slashed onto his balls and across Emily's thigh: "I'm
sorry," I said over and over, even as I emptied the
rest where they both joined. I half expected Paul to
react negatively, but instead he just said, "That's
okay, you're entitled to your fun too; I've just
fucked your wife and told her I love her."
"I love you, too" Emily cooed. I don't know why, even
now, but hearing the mutual declaration of love
quickly aroused me again.
I was beside them now, "Say that again please, Emily."
She complied, kissing and cooing:
"I love you so much, Paul," she smiled softly into his
eyes.
I was rock hard again and quickly rising to orgasm
"Again!" I pleaded
Paul responded, "I love your wife so much, Dave... I
think we belong together." And then to Emily, "I love
you, Emily, I hope you get pregnant."
He pumped his cock long and slow as Emily gasped
breathy notes of pleasure and whimpered over and over,
"Oh, God! I love you so much," and then I had my
second, mostly dry orgasm, with a little bit of sperm
shooting onto Emily's arm while listening to their
affirmations of love for each other, over and over,
followed by a second fuck that seemed an eternity.
Paul eventually dressed and left Emily and me. She
looked sad.
"You can see him again whenever you want," I assured
her.
"You don't mind?"
"Look, why don't you invite him to move in with us. It
might work out for us all."
And so it did. I became like a father to Emily who
willfully enjoyed her lover in our family home. I
loved the smell of their sex in our bed, on Emily's
body and in her panties. I'd often fantasize her as my
daughter as much as my wife as I fucked her, and
longed for news of her pregnancy.
It didn't happen until the following April as Paul was
coming to the end of his academic year, leaving Emily
bitter-sweet with Paul's return to Ontario and Emily's
womb carrying his child. I was blissful at the thought
of nine months of sleeping with my swelling wife and
slow fucking her through it all.
Sometime during the last month of her pregnancy, the
Book of Mormon disappeared from her bedside table.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 36