Cuckold doesn’t want to fuck his girlfriend and then she calls the bull who fucks them
Title: Cuckold’s Nightmare: The Bull Takes Over
In the foggy, dimly lit bedroom, Petrov, a meek, unassuming man, nervously paced. His heart pounded, his palms sweated, as anticipation and dread built within him. He had woven this web, entangled his wife, Natasha, into a role she had never asked for, a cuckold’s wife. And now, the chirpy alarm enforced reality – the man Natasha craved was on his way.
Petrov paused, hands trembling, deciding. Did he have it in him to call off the carnal carnival of cuckoldry? Dry-mouth comforting himself, he rang Anthony, the bull.
“Yo, it’s Anthony. What’s up, man?” The baritone voice vibrated through the line with rippled confidence.
“Ah, Anthony, hi. It’s Petrov, Natasha’s husband. Listen, about tonight…”
“Spit it out, man. Got better things to do than waste time on wishy-washy cucks.” The impatience in his voice was palpable.
Petrov hesitated, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling; fear, jealousy, inadequacy. “I… I don’t think I can go through with this. My wife… the cuckoldry…”
“Hell no, man. You can’t call it off now. I’m already here, outside. You fucking owe me.” The crassness of his words left a bitter taste in Petrov’s mouth.
Stomach churning, Petrov wavered. This unimaginable humiliation, his wife’s carnal craving satisfied by another. “I… I’m sorry…”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, friend. Hello? Pick up, man.” The call ended abruptly, leaving Petrov antsy, his mind racing with morbid curiosity of what was to transpire.
Natasha emerged from the shower, a fleeting sight of glistening wet skin that made Petrov’s groin stir. She wore a lacy red bra, matching panties, a thin white robe exposed her tanned curves. Petrov’s tongue involuntarily flicked out, savoring the sight. This woman, his wife, was undeniably sexy.
“Sit down, darling.” Natasha’s honeyed words held a command. “You’ve arranged my date, remember?”
Petrov obediently sat, while Natasha poured herself a glass of chilled champagne. “Drink up, cucky,” she said, flashing a grin that would rival a lioness. “You’ll need it.”
The deafening silence was broken by a knock at the door. Natasha sashayed to the door, answered it, and greeted Anthony. Scantily clad in a white tank top and ripped jeans, the sheer mass of his muscles was intimidating. He sported a goatee, tattoos, oozing raw, unadulterated masculine energy.
Anthony gave Natasha a searing look, took her hand. “You ready for a real man?”
She blushed, her eyes caressing his body with wanton need. “More than ready.”
They stepped inside the bedroom. Anthony didn’t waste time, pinning Natasha against the wall, kissing her with a vehemence that made Petrov clutch the sheets. Wet noises, moans escaped Natasha’s mouth – the unmistakable sounds of someone being thoroughly, passionately devoured.
Anthony reached down, impossibly quick, ripped off Natasha’s flimsy panties. A visible erection strained against his jeans. He undid his fly, his massive cock springing out. Petrov gasped, feeling minuscule in comparison.
With a hoarse cry, Anthony entered Natasha, filling her with his cock. She clawed at his back, legs wrapped around him. They moved with a frenzied pace, skin slapping, flesh jiggling obscenely. Natasha threw back her head, moaning Anthony’s name in ecstasy. Petrov watched, enthralled by their primal act.
Natasha climaxed hard, her whole body bucking, an obscene amount of wetness seeping out of her. Barely stopping, Anthony laid her on the bed, spread eagle, his cock never leaving her. Petrov’s eyes bore into them, his contributors clad cock out, stroking himself to the show. Natasha’s body writhed, lost in sensation. Her hands roamed Anthony’s back as he pistoned into her, coaxing gasping cries.
Petrov felt insignificant, a microscopic dot in the universe. Natasha was all Anthony’s in this moment, and his cock saluted the bull. Natasha arched again, her walls fluttering. “Cum in me,” her voice was a whorish croak. “Fill me up!”
With a roar, Anthony pounded deep, his release flooding into Natasha. She clenched him, greedy, milking him. Petrov found his own end, spurting onto Natasha’s exposed titties. He watched as his cum dripped down her breasts, mixed with Anthony’s.
Anthony retrieved his cock, sticky, softening. The bed transformed into a train of edges and tattoos, sweat and sex. Natasha lay limp, satisfied smile on her face. Petrov sat there, mind pleasantly blank, breathing the musk of sex.
Natasha’s voice drifted into the haze. “You’ve done well tonight, cucky. I’m so proud.” Petrov felt the glow of a dutiful servant, satisfied in earning his place. The cuckold’s wife gave a deep yawn, ready for rest after her frisky ride. And Petrov, watching the rise and fall of her chest, felt content in his self-chosen role.
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