A Real Bull

Story by Christina Stevens (my better half)

I was a good girl. But I was bored with my husband after twenty years, who wouldn’t be? I was still fit and fuckable. I knew it. My husband Jeff knew it. We both knew it.

I would meet men in my business and in order to promote sales — it’s true that I would flirt. But they would see my wedding ring and I would talk about the husband and the kids.

It was my Persian business associates that really got me. They mostly lived in Beverly Hills and were very well off. They made millions per year doing very mundane things like selling insurance or real estate. But they really knew how to make money. And they wore cologne and they acted a notch or two tougher than most American men. They were seriously macho, maybe a tad sexist. But there was something I really liked about most of them. And I knew they fucked around. Some had confessed that their marriages were just a kind of show that is put on for families. A lot of them whored around. Many had girlfriends. The whole thing attracted me in a backward but exciting way.

One guy, Amid, asked me out for a drink one day after we met with him and some others in a conference room on Beverly Drive. I had designed and produced promotional materials for Amid’s business. He imported leather goods from the Middle East and sold them at high end department stores. We had known each other for several years, and he had always looked at me like he wanted to have sex with me. He looked at me with a kind of sad look. Like too bad I can’t make love to you, you are so beautiful. And I guess I looked at him kind of sadly too. Too bad I can’t fuck you, I like you.

“Oh, I have to get home,” I said. “But I’d love to have a drink with you sometime.”

“You would?” He seemed surprised. “When?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll text you.”

That night when I got home, I told my husband that this Persian guy had asked me out for a drink. Of course, he got all excited. He asked me all about it and he pretended to be Amid that night. He put on a Persian accent and he undressed me and fucked me. God it was good.

We had role played a lot of this stuff over the years. I knew it turned Jeff on and he knew it turned me on. But we both knew I was a good girl at heart and would never do anything like this in real life.

Or would I?

I didn’t contact Amid. But after a week I got a text.

“How about that drink?” it said.

I thought about it. I didn’t want to be a cocktease. Amid didn’t deserve that. I would either have a drink with him or tell him to forget about it. Anything in between was irresponsible.

“Amid texted me about that drink,” I told Jeff as we got into bed that night.

“Really?” he said. I could tell he was getting all excited.

“I didn’t answer him,” I said.

“Are you going to?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

I was kind of testing the waters. I didn’t want Jeff to push me into it. On the other hand, maybe I was hoping that he would push me into it.

“Do you think I should have a drink with him?” I asked.

Jeff laughed. “You know pretty well what I think,” he said.

I had to blush, then. He was right. I was playing coy.

“You won’t…lose respect for me?” I asked. “If I have a drink with Amid.”

“Are you kidding,” he said. “It’s all I fantasize about. You going out with another guy. Having a drink. Making out with him. More, of course.”

“That’s all you fantasize about?” I said, kind of stunned. “Like, you don’t fantasize about fucking Kate Upton or something?”

“No,” he said. “I only fantasize about you. I can’t help it. No other woman gives me a hard on.”

He came over to my side of the bed and started kissing me. And we went into another awesome role playing scene of Amid fucking me.

“How about Friday night?” I texted Amid, the next day.

“Super,” he replied. “I can come to your office around 6pm. We can go wherever you want.”

Amid knew I was married. I wondered what he thought I was up to. Did he think I was going to cheat on my husband?

And I knew Amid was engaged. Of course, for a Persian man that doesn’t mean sex — it means that he was not having sex, in fact. A Persian woman must, I repeat must, be a virgin on her wedding night. Otherwise, the shame is unimaginable. Poor Amid probably hadn’t had sex with anyone since he started dating his fiancée. I had met her once. She was young and quiet. I could see why he wanted to fuck me.

That Friday morning I put on a tight fitting black skirt, some nice pumps, and a sexy silk top that showed my shoulders. I applied a lot of red lipstick and more makeup than usual. I braided my hair in a French twist. I looked pretty good. Oh, and I put on a sheer black bra and panty set that Jeff had bought me a few months ago. I was ready for something. I didn’t know what.

“Have fun,” Jeff said. “I won’t wait up for you.”

“Oh you,” I said, playfully punching him in the shoulder. “I’ll be home by nine.”

“We’ll see,” he said.

“You don’t want me to let you know where we’re going?” I suggested. “You could come and spy on us.”

“No,” he said, thoughtfully, as though he had figured all this out already. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I want you to have an awesome date.”

“It’s not a date!” I said.

“Then what is it?”

“A drink,” I said.

But I knew it was a date. I just couldn’t bring myself to admit it yet. I had been with one man and only one man for the last twenty years since our wedding. This was just all too weird for my head to comprehend. I didn’t even know why I was doing it. Was I even attracted to Amid? I guess I was, but only in that broad way — attracted to his general machismo. I hardly knew anything about the actual man. Just his…style.

And I liked that a lot.

Jeff is great and everything. But to be quite honest he’s very, very indecisive. If there is some crisis, he will hem and haw until finally I have to take control and handle the situation. In a pinch, he caves.

My husband is weak. But that’s probably why I like him.

I am intimidated by strong men, although I am intrigued by them. But I feel much more comfortable with men like Jeff, who are soft spoken and gentle, passive and…

Weak.

Oh god, that sounded bad.

But I had to admit something to myself, as I drove to work that morning. I was really excited at the prospect of being fucked by a real man.

I mean, Jeff was a real man, in his own way. He was brave enough to be gentle, and emotional, and vulnerable with me. But when it came to fucking, he was kind of wimpy about it.

And, sorry. He wasn’t that big down there.

Size does matter to me, I guess. My previous boyfriend had been bigger than Jeff. But he had also been a jerk. That’s why when I hooked up with Jeff it didn’t matter to me that he was just average down there. At least I thought it didn’t matter.

But I’ve gotten very bored with the fucking part, after all these years.

I still like it when he eats me out. But when he starts fucking me I can’t really say that it stimulates me all that much.

But Amid.

I admitted to myself then, as I was heading into the office, the real reason I was going to have drinks with him. It was something I had heard through the grapevine, though a friend who had dated Amid for a few months, years ago. But I had remembered it all these years. And that’s why I was excited to see him.

Amid was hung.

Or at least, that was the word on the street. Who knows if it were true? Maybe I was about to find out.

“This is nice,” Amid said, sipping on a very expensive glass of red wine. We were seated in the Walter wine bar on Vine. It was very dark, romantic and kind of swank. Amid had ordered the bottle. He was used to taking charge like that.

“Yes,” I said. “So…”

It was awkward, let’s face it. I laughed out of embarrassment. What were we doing here? What were we going to talk about?

“So how’s your fiancée?” I asked finally. And then I laughed again.

Amid smiled. “She’s in Dubai with her cousin,” he said. “For three weeks.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Three weeks, huh? That’s a long time. Are you lonely?”

“Extremely,” he said. “I mean, you know. How long have you and Jeff been together?”

“Twenty years,” I said. “I’m very lonely when he goes to Texas for a week at a time. But sometimes it’s a nice break, too.”

I laughed loudly. Too loudly.

“Ha!” said Amid. “You’re funny.” Suddenly he reached across the table and put his hand on top of mine. “Lisa,” he said to me. “We’ve known each other a long time. I consider you a friend. And I really appreciate all the help you’ve given me with my business. You know that don’t you?”

“Of course,” I said. “You’re my favorite client!”

“That’s why I am a little nervous, but I really must tell you this,” he said. “Lisa, I have always been incredibly attracted to you. Ever since you first showed up at my office with the proposal for that first campaign. And…I never really was sure. But I had a feeling that you might have been attracted to me, too. I hope I’m not out of line saying that. Please tell me if I am.”

“No, not at all,” I said. “I have always had a sweet spot for you, Amid.”

“I’m very glad to hear you say that,” he smiled. “Now…you are married, and I am engaged. I don’t want to presume anything. But I am very relieved to hear you say that. That this whole thing was not just something in my imagination.”

“Oh, you’ve been using your imagination, have you,” I joked. I wanted to lighten it up. He was getting so heavy. I was not into that.

“Quite a bit,” he smiled. “I have used my imagination quite a bit. What about you?”

“Yes,” I said right away. “Even when I’m in bed with Jeff, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh my,” he laughed. “When you’re in bed with Jeff!”

He got a kick out of that.

“Well, Amid,” I said. “I have to confess something. Do you remember when you were dating that rep, Laura?”

“Of course,” he said. “Laura is great.”

“Well, anyhow, I had heard back then when you were dating that…well, Laura was very…satisfied in the bedroom department.”

“Oh, I see,” he said. “I’m flattered that you ladies were gossiping about me. And so sometimes while you are with Jeff, you are imagining that you are with somebody…shall we say…slightly more satisfying?”

‘Exactly,” I said. “Is that completely crazy?”

“Not at all,” he said with confidence. “I mean, I can make no guarantees, but..” He took another sip of wine. “I am fairly sure you would be satisfied,” he said, finishing his thought.

Then he looked at me with surprising sudden intensity.

“But that is not what I’m interested in,” he said.

“No? You disappoint me,” I said. I took a sip of wine myself.

“Lisa,” he said. “Don’t you realize what I am trying to tell you?”

“No,” I said, taking another sip. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“I think I’m in love with you!” he almost shouted. I looked around at the other tables. Nobody was too close. I don’t think anybody heard.

“Jesus, Amid,” I said. “In love with me?”

“There. I said it. Now do with that what you will. I just needed to get that off my chest. I’m sorry.”

“Well, this is a surprise,” I said, and I’m sure he heard the disappointment in my voice.

“I can’t marry my fiancée,” he said. “I don’t love her. It’s you I love. I ‘m going to call off the wedding.”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s not what I expected out of tonight at all.”

“You don’t love me?”

“No!” I said. “Of course not. I love Jeff.”

He looked angry.

“So what was it? You expected you would have a good fuck and go back to Jeff a satisfied customer. Like I was some kind of, I don’t know, gigolo?”

“Amid, I seem to remember, it was you who asked me out,” I snapped at him. “I don’t think indignation is quite called for here?”

“No? Haven’t you been fluttering your eyelashes at me for the past fucking five years?”

“What?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Lisa,” he said.

“This was a mistake,” I said, getting up and carefully folding my napkin, for some reason. I guess I was trying to collect my thoughts. Shit. I may have just ruined one of my biggest accounts. What the fuck was I thinking, mixing business with pleasure? This was terrible. I tried to walk it back.

“I’m not mad at you, Amid,” I said. “I just, just…”

“Just go,” he said, waving me off dismissively. He looked deeply, deeply hurt. I felt horrible.

“Oh Amid, I’m so sorry. If I…”

Then he yelled at me. He didn’t want to hear any more of my bs.

“Go!” he yelled. “I’ll get the check.”

I left.

Jeff had a good laugh. “In love with you, jeez.” He was beating off. “I love that. I just love it.”

“You love that he’s in love with me?”

“Well, of course he’s in love with you, Lisa,” Jeff said. “That’s the type of woman you are. You’re the girl next door. You’re the kind they take home to mama. You’re not the other woman type at all. If somebody wants to fuck you, they want to love you too. You’re the whole package. Not just a fuck.”

“Really?”

I guess I agreed with him, in my most secret self. But I would never come out and say that. It sounded too prideful. But I wasn’t the slutty type. I really wasn’t built for it at all. I was built — Jeff was right — for going home to meet someone’s parents, feathering a nest with them, going to church with them, and fucking them in the missionary with occasional doggie style positions. Maybe a blowjob twice a year. On his birthday and father’s day. Alright, I’ll let him fuck my ass on New Year’s Eve if I’m good and tipsy. But no, I was not born to cheat.

I just seemed, lately, to have bigger sexual desire than all that. But the last person I wanted to fuck was someone who “loved me.”

“Oh go on,” Jeff said. “It will be fun. Go and fuck him and let him love you. Let him fall head over heels in love with you.”

“No!” I said. “It’s not right.”

I was happy as Mrs. Jeff Jeffreys. Yes, I know, it’s an embarrassing last name for a guy named Jeff. But there it was. Jeff Jeffreys was my man.

“I am not going to fuck him,” I said. “In fact, I’m not going to see him again. I know he’s a big client, but I really can’t deal with that. You should have seen how intense he was, Jeff. Really. He wasn’t fucking around. He thinks I’m the one!”

Jeff laughed again.

“What’s so funny?”

“You are the one!” he said. “Don’t you know, back in college there were twenty five guys in love with you. At least. For some reason you picked me. I never knew why.”

“Because,” I said. “Because you were the cutest.”

I kissed him and made love to him. He was the cutest, back then in college. But as a woman gets older, she figures out pretty quick that there is more to being a man than being cute. Jeff had some serious issues. He was dominated by his father, who was military. You can imagine the psychic wounds. He never felt…enough. But this, this seemed to make him feel complete, the idea of me with another man. A more manly man. So we role played this scenario for about a month. It was pretty funny. Jeff would pretend to be Amid, in his Persian accent, telling me how in love with me he was. Jeff was really good at the improv. He milked it for all it was worth. Begging me to leave my husband (Him!). We got a real kick out of the whole fantasy. And after a while, I began to notice that the more Jeff as Amid pretended to love me, the better I came.

“I love you Lisa! Why can’t you love me!” Jeff would scream in Amid’s voice as he came in me.

And I would just squirm with pleasure as I felt his unrequited love shooting into me.

“OMG,” I said one day. “I just had the craziest idea!”

That’s when I got the notion to make a cuckold out of this bull Amid. I would make him the biggest cuckold that ever lived. And Jeff would be the bull. This way Jeff would gain the self esteem that he lacked. He would see that he was better than a big tough Persian millionaire like Amid. He would see that he was — my man!

“Wow,” Jeff said when he heard the plan. “Do you really think we can pull that off? I mean, it would be amazing, but…”

I convinced Jeff it was worth a try at least. What was the worst that could happen? Amid could tell me to get lost. I could handle that.

“So, how’s the wedding planning going, Amid?” I said, on the phone. He was surprised at the call. I had not answered his last five texts. And he had hired another ad company to do his promotions.

“I’m glad you’re working with Melrose Graphics,” I said. “They are great. They will take good care of you.”

“Listen, Lisa,” he said. “I only went with Melrose because you weren’t returning my calls and I have an enormous shipment of shit I have to get rid of. I will gladly fire them and give you the account.”

“No way,” I said. “It’s much better this way.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking,” I said. “I would like you to come over and have dinner with Jeff and me.”

“Dinner with Jeff and you? Why would I do that?”

“Because…I promise I’ll make it fun for you.”

At the first dinner, we all got a little tipsy. And during dessert I started spoon feeding the both of them pieces of cheesecake. Then I started making out with Jeff in front of Amid. I could tell he liked watching that.

“Did you like watching that?” I texted him the next day.

“Yes, very much,” he said.

I was grooming a cuck. It was working brilliantly.

“Next time I’ll show you more,” I promised.

The next time he came over, after a couple of glasses of very expensive wine which Amid had brought, Jeff and I started making out again, and Amid watched.

“Would it be alright if Jeff took off my blouse?” I asked Amid. “It’s very hot in here.”

“Yes!” he said. “That’s alright with me.

Amid watched as Jeff slowly unbuttoned my blouse, and pushed it back over my shoulders. Then he pulled my bra down and exposed my breasts.

“They are very beautiful,” said Amid.

“Is it alright if Jeff sucks them?” I asked.

“Yes, can I suck them too?” asked Amid.

“No!” I said sternly. “All you can do is watch.”

“Can I touch myself?”

“No!” I said. “Absolutely not.”

This was like training a dog. I loved it.

Jeff took off my bra and sucked my tits. Amid’s eyes were glazed. He looked like he was on drugs. He was, in a way. He was on the drug of obsession. I had somehow managed to make him completely devoted to me.

“So, you cannot love me?” he said. “This is the next best thing.”

“I do love you,” I corrected him. “But this is the only way I can show it to you. My marriage vows prevent anything else.”

And now, in our twisted game, my domination of Amid had somehow become virtue — almost religious virtue. Amid bought it hook, line and sinker.

The next time, I gave Amid specific instructions before he came over. After dinner, he was to excuse himself, and go to the bathroom. He was instructed to come back from the bathroom wearing a bra and panties. At which point, I would lock his cock up in a chastity cage, to prevent him from masturbating.

“Otherwise, it would be a sin,” I texted. “Remember, thou shall’t not spill they seed in vain.”

And then, he would be allowed to accompany Jeff and I into the bedroom, where he was to watch us fucking. And afterwards, after Jeff came in me, he would be allowed to come onto the bed and lick Jeff’s ejaculate out of my pussy.

“Alright,” he texted me. “I’ll do it. You know I’ll do it. I’m mad about you. I’ll do anything you instruct. You are my mistress.”

“That’s right,” I texted him back. “I’m Mistress Lisa. And that’s how you will address me from now on. Now, let’s talk about these impending nuptials.”

“Please don’t make me cancel the wedding,” he wrote. “The money has been spent. The families are coming from overseas. Everything is set.”

“It’s fine,” I texted back. “Just one thing.”

And I gave him the chastity orders with his wife as well.

“Tell her you’re gay,” I texted. “Or tell her you have a cruel mistress. But if I find out that you have fucked her, it’s over, is that clear?”

“Yes, Mistress Lisa.”

Apparently, there are all kinds of weird marriages in the Middle East, so this wasn’t going to be such a hard stunt to pull off. The bride would probably be happy that she didn’t have to fuck him. She was a virgin, after all. And she was probably scared. So I was giving her a little time to get adjusted. I fully expected this whole arrangement to run its course in about three months, at which point, if he hadn’t been too completely ruined by the cuckolding, I was going to give Amid the key to his chastity cage and he’d be free to do whatever he wanted with his wife. In the meantime, I wore the key on a beautiful gold chain around my neck.

I will never forget that first time.

Amid came out of the bathroom in our master bedroom, wearing the bra, the panties, and the little cage around his penis. I went over to him and locked it up. Then I joined Jeff on the bed. I was in a lace slip, with no stockings on, but spike heels. My makeup was a bit goth, lots of purple eyeshadow. I thought that would be good somehow, put the fear of god into him maybe. I felt sexy.

Jeff came into the room. Amid was sitting there on the little ottoman at the end of our bed. Jeff was looking pretty buff in his tarzan underwear, I have to say, and he was acting the part of the bull. I knew it was all acting, but I enjoyed it. Underneath Jeff’s tough guy act he was still a softie, but who knows, maybe this was toughening him up a little. I sat on the end of the bed, staring at Amid in his bra and panties. He looked up at me, pathetically, but aroused; I could see the lump in his panties growing, as Jeff came behind me, and slowly lifted the slip off me, exposing my white lace bra to Amid.

“You enjoying my wife, Amid?” Jeff said.

In later iterations of this little game, Amid would be wearing a ball gag in his mouth and would just be able to moan his assent. Jeff went online later and learned various knot tying techniques, and he would tie Amid up in all kinds of crazy contortions at the foot of our bed, so that watching us fuck became a punishment and a reward. But this first time, he was free to speak.

“Yes, very much. She is most beautiful.”

Jeff kissed my neck, and kissed my ear. I looked straight into Amid’s eyes. He wished he could touch his cock and enjoy this more, but that was impossible with the cage around it.

“Would you like to see those tits?” asked Jeff.

Amid said, “Yes!”

And Jeff unhooked my bra, and pulled it away slowly. Then he reached around from behind and started feeling my breasts, my nipples, kissing my neck, kissing his way down to the nipples. Sucking the nipples. I could see his cock was getting hard in the tarzan underwear.

“Would you like to see her sucking my cock?” Jeff asked, as though reading my mind.

“Yes, yes please.”

I got on my knees and Jeff sat on the bed. I pulled his underwear down. His cock was standing straight up, I’d never seen it so hard. It looked like it was about to explode. Jeff was really getting into the exhibitionism of it all. I put my mouth on that cock but I didn’t suck too hard, because I could tell he was near explosion. And I desperately wanted to fuck that cock — for Amid.

I wanted to do it all for Amid. I did care for him. I knew that now, as I saw him so pathetic in his bra and his panties. I felt the key on my exposed breasts as I sucked, and it made me feel just a little sad for him. I wanted him to get something great out of all of this, not just sadness. So I stopped sucking Jeff’s cock and I lay down on the bed.

Jeff came on top of me and pulled my panties down slowly.

“Look at my wife’s pussy, Amid,” he said. “Tell her how beautiful it is. Pay tribute to her pussy.”

“I praise her pussy, the sexiest of all pussies by far.”

The panties were halfway down my butt, exposing my pubic hair and half of my pussy. But I could tell Amid was frustrated.

“Pull them down! Pull them down! I want to see that beautiful pussy!”

Slowly, so slowly, Jeff pulled down the panties, down to my knees, down to my feet, and then slowly he removed them, and handed them to Amid, who grabbed them feverishly and began sniffing them.

“Oh my God, that beautiful pussy!”

Then Jeff lay down with his head at the end of the bed. And I got on top of him naked, still looking straight at Amid on the ottoman. I slipped my husband’s cock inside me, and with my eyes stuck straight on Amid’s eyes, I began to caress my nipples as I slowly rode Jeff’s cock. He lifted my butt up with his hands and pushed me down again on his cock. He pulled me up, he pushed me down. He moaned in ecstasy. He was loving this. Amid was making high pitched whining noises. I am not really sure how that must have felt, watching me get fucked like this, but somehow I knew that it was good.

“I love you Lisa,” I thought I heard him whine. “I love you so much.”

“Hear that Lisa,” Jeff said, in a mocking, exuberant tone. “He loves you so much, Lisa.”

“I love you Lisa!” Amid whined again.

And it made me hot to hear him whine like that.

“Tell me how much you love me,” I commanded him.

“I love you so much that I have let you humiliate me like this. I don’t mind. If this is what it takes to be with you, I’ll do it. Whatever you wish. Just command me. And thank you, thank you for this. I love this. I love you. I love you so much.”

Just hearing him crying these words, I have to say, it might sound cruel, but it got me so aroused. I fucked and fucked Jeff as the whining and the words “I love you!” echoed in my mind. I couldn’t believe what was welling up inside me then. It welled from deep inside my pussy, and it rose up, up, into my chest, and into my brain, as I came like I had never come before. As I looked down, I saw a great puddle of liquid had seeped out of me and soaked Jeff and the sheets next to him on either side.

“Oh my God,” I said. “Oh my God!”

And then, Jeff, so excited by my flooding puddle, started moaning and moaning and he ejaculated inside me with a great loud scream.

“OK, Amid. It’s your turn now.”

Amid came up, and eagerly pushed his face into my pussy, moaning and moaning as he licked and lapped up my husband’s cum. I loved the thought of that cum going into Amid’s mouth.

“Mmmm, yes, it’s good, it’s good,” said Amid as he lapped it up.

And then, Amid focused his mouth on my clit. He knew this was his only chance to please me. With his dick caged, his tongue was all he had. And he licked me to climax several times, as he fingered my pussy and told me how much he loved me. When I had drunk my fill of orgasm, I told him, “Alright, that’s enough. You may go now.”

“Thank you, thank you Mistress Lisa,” he said. And he hurried off into the bathroom. He put on his clothes and he rushed out of the house.

My husband came up to cuddle me on the bed. We looked at each other amazed.

“My God! What did we just do!”

And we burst out laughing.

“Mmm, honey, that was so good for me,” I told Jeff. “You fucked me like a real stud.”

I meant it too. I had the feeling that a few more of these sessions and I would have made a man out of my husband at last.

In reality, it took a few months. After a whole summer of cuckolding Amid, I asked my husband, “So, Jeff, do you still fantasize about me with other men?”

“No,” he said. “I fantasize about other men watching us as we fuck. And every so often they are allowed to lick up my cum. And only after a whole summer, if they are very very good, will you take that beautiful key and unlock their chastity cage. And only once will you fuck them. And then you will never see them again.”

So that’s what I did. At the end of three months, after a session, I took the key, and I finally unlocked that huge cock of Amid’s. I grabbed the poor man by the hand and I brought him up to the bed.

“Come my good cuck,” I said. “You’ve been so obedient. You have earned this reward.”

“No, I’m not worthy of it,” he protested, but I could see his cock beginning to throb.

“Take off that bra and panties and fuck me like a real man,” I commanded.

I lay down on the bed. I spread my legs.

“Come on, Amid,” I said. “Come and put that big cock inside me and tell me how much you love me.”

“Oh I love you so much!” he cried, and at last after three months of torture, he got what he craved. He got to make love to me. He pushed into me with such passion, as he kissed me with such lust. I was swept up into his spell of ecstasy. He fucked me for an hour. Several times I came. I wondered where my husband was. Finally I saw him. He was standing by the side of the bed, filming on his iPhone.

“Oh yeah, Amid. You’re fucking her real good.”

“Am I fucking your wife good?” Amid said. “Do you like to watch me fucking her?”

“I like anything Lisa does,” Jeff said. “She is a goddess.”

“She is! She is a goddess,” Amid agreed. “Oh what a delicious goddess!”

And he pulled out his dick and shot his load up onto my breasts.

I was kind of disappointed that Jeff jumped on me then and started licking up Amid’s cum off my tits. What kind of bull does that? Oh well. He had acted the part so well for these months. I allowed him this reversion to his weak state. He looked at me with wild, crazed euphoria in his eyes.

“Mmm, that tastes good,” he said to me.

Then he kissed me and pushed some of Amid’s come into my mouth.

“Mmm,” I said. “It does. Amid, your cum is delicious.”

And then we were done.

I gave Amid the key. He was emancipated. He thanked me.

“I will always love you, Lisa,” he said.

I never saw him again.

But I often think of that big Persian dick inside me. It was just as his old girlfriend had said — a very satisfying sausage.

And I will be always grateful to Amid for curing my husband of his cuckoldry, and turning him into a real bull. Well, almost a real bull. Jeff still gets whiny and weak sometimes. But much less. Let’s just say, he’s a work in progress…

And every so often, I do wonder. I can’t help but wonder. Does Amid think of me as he fucks his Persian princess bride? Because every so often, as Jeff is fucking me with that very average cock, I do imagine Amid’s eight inches going deep inside me. And every so often at the moment of orgasm I want to call out his name. “Amid!” But I am still training my husband to be a bull. So I hold it back. I just call out the first syllable.

“Ahhhhh!”

And that feeling wells up in me again, from my pussy up to my brain, mounting, mounting mounting.

“Ahhhh!” I scream. And my husband looks at me so proudly. Like he’s the big stud who satisfies his wife.

Like a real bull.

Read Colt and Christina Stevens’ full length erotica here.