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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