Night of the Bull & The Cuckold

it’s not often that I meet  man in my everyday life that I’m erotically attracted to, let alone two. But this time, I found the perfect match: an ideal Bull and the ultimate cuckold boy, to fulfill and old cherished fantasy of mine. Cuckolding a helpless insignificant, but nonetheless pretty cuck, in the arms of a strappy, well endowed bull. Both at my beck and call. I’m a big fan of mFm threesomes.

We started by meeting in a favourite pub, where my eager cuck addressd us both as Sir, to crush his masculinity jsut tad more. He wasn’t allowed to drink, but he bought us drinks and waited patiently till it was time to go back to the boudoir for the evening’s entertainment.

Back in the boudoir, little Mr Cuck was ordered to strip in front of us, slowly, for our entertainmen, while I made out with my delightful Mr Bull: tall, handsome, fiery red and apparently, ex-army. Plus a beautiful, big cock to please me with, judging by what my hands found when going down for a good old boy groping. I stopped my cock-mining to tie up my cuck boy into hogtie and positioned him on a thick rug at the foot of the leather sofa, where he couldn’t miss any of the action. Then we started for real with Mr Red And Fiery Bull.

Sex is something I can take or leave. Physically, I’m indifferent to it. Apart form a good dose of intelligence, I expect my sexual partners to have also an imagination. for me, sex has always have to happen as part of a narrative, and cuckolding makes sex worth the effort of breaking into a sweat, and the inconvenience of having my hair messed up and lipstick smudged. Just by itself, not even my gorgeous bull would give it much interest.

But having a little, passive, all eyes cuckold at the foot of the bed makes a world of a difference to me. The glint in his eye when I caught him watching, the shudder of delight when I threw my clothes and lingerie over him, as if he got in the way, like a piece of furniture…

“Oh, and can you see how a real man fucks a woman? Watch, listen and learn what it takes to be a woman-pleasing man. Not that I have any hope that you ever will be up to scratch.”

To make him useful and not jsut a passive, yet delighted audience, I demanded that he kept Mr Bull hard by sucking on his cock. Little cuck boy obeyed eagerly, swallowing as deep as he could. He gagged and threw up, but never mind. Mr Bull took the gagging and reflux as appreciation of his enviable size. Alas, the cruelty of nature will never allow little Mr Cuck to upgrade to Mr Bull. Some flaws are for life! But he’s a good, obedient cuck, and do as told. His oral services were demanded because I enjoy watching boy on boy puppetry, and later, were demanded on me. Such a lucky boy!

Finally, and the game finished, almost oblivious to the little piece of meat tied up on the floor, Mr Bull got up and standing on him, pissed on my cuck with all the Niagara might of his bladder. I laughed and laughed while I mixed myself a drink (with different fluids, I hast to add). But then I noticed that my cuck wasn’t only lying on top of the rug, but also on top of a pile with my not piss-drenched clothes. Oh no.

My Bulls aren’t your predictable, sexist macho men you’d expect to find in a porn movie. No way, such men never cross the door to my Boudoir. So, swiftly and without being prompted, Mr Bull got up, put my clothes on the sink and lovingly washed them by hand while I enjoyed a G&T. Naked over the sink, I watched his rippling muscles wringing and hanging my ress, nylon stockings and suspender, my new underwear.

Then I allowed my cuck boy a drink, but he was already drunk in the pleasure and joy of what he had just witnessed. Dizzy and spaced out, I allowed him to stay for the rest of the night for a good dose of strapon riogery and to cook me breakfast in the morning, as a way to say thank you.

And that was an ordinary summer weekend in Ms Tytania’s private moments.


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