Why I am a Bull Ch. 02 by BullNumber1,BullNumber1



At first, I had no conception that humiliation could be sexy. It simply hadn’t occurred to me that being taken for a mug or intimidated might be a turn-on. But that changed on my next meeting with Eva. I’m pretty open-minded, and in hindsight, I’m surprised that I hadn’t thought that someone would get off on it. I’d had lovers who, for want of a better phrase, did get off on being treated badly in the bedroom, or at least expected “men to be men” and make all the demands, but I wouldn’t say they were my best or favourite lovers. It was just a thing. I’d never heard a man get off on it, or at least if they did, it was at the hands of a professional dominatrix where it was all theatre.

Eva’s note was too good an opportunity to ignore. Whatever the deal was with her fianc√©, Ian, I sensed there was something in it for me, so I picked up my phone from the bedside table and texted her.

S: Hi Eva. It’s Steven. Kind of surprised to get your note. Are you OK? Problem with Ian about the other night?

I turned over. The thought of her made my morning erection throb. Only a couple of minutes passed before there was a “ding”.

E: No problem at all, unless you count my damp underwear ūüėČ I’m in town this afternoon. Free for a drink?

S: Possibly. What’s the deal with Ian? I don’t really need a jealous husband in my life

Apart from not wanting to seem too keen, I really didn’t want to be dating an attached woman. All the sneaking around wouldn’t really suit me. When I want a woman, I want her on my terms.

E: I’d actually like to explain it to you. Ian’s not the jealous type. Around six in the bar at Fitzroy House?

I paused. That’ll be expensive, I thought. I guess I could just turn up and suggest somewhere else.

S: Sure. See you at six

After a day answering phone calls for some stupid sales company, a drink with a sexy woman in nice surroundings was welcome. I showered, put on a clean shirt and the tiny amount of expensive cologne I had left, and headed for the bar. Seated at a table near the window was a gorgeous-looking Eva, wearing a pencil skirt and perfectly pressed blouse and, much to my disappointment, a suited Ian. I sat down and said nothing. I was genuinely surprised to see him, and was almost expecting a repeat of the party when he attempted, rather feebly, to get in my face. Eva leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I think my disappointment was showing.

“Do you know what a cuckold is, Steven?”

“Erm…”, I wasn’t expecting a quiz. And didn’t particularly want one. She saved me from my embarrassment.

“Ian is one. He gets sexual gratification knowing I’m being fulfilled. He enjoys knowing I’m getting what I need, and that his, erm, shortcomings, are acknowledged. After we made love, do you remember what happened?”

“Well, I seem to recall you went over to him and returned to the party.”

“Yes, but I also whispered to him. What do you think I said?”

“I honestly have no idea.” and intriguing as this was, it wasn’t why I’d come.

“I said to him, ‘If only you were a tenth of that man, I’d not have to do this’, and that’s what made him come.” Why were we discussing the loser that for some reason she was marrying?

“I’d rather not dwell on it, to be honest.” I sensed that this wasn’t playing out as I’d expected. A drink, some flirting and a proper fuck had been my plan.

“You should. It might be to your advantage.”

I felt she was reading me. Or playing me. Did she know I wasn’t exactly as I appeared? Her emotional intelligence turned me on. I felt as if she were my equal… more than just a good-looking woman, she was cunning. She had a goal.

“Ian is a lovely man. He provides for me generously, and we have an intimate home life, but he understands I need my freedom if I am to avoid frustration and remain content, and so other forms of intimacy are necessary.”

She didn’t look like she needed a sugar daddy. Ian was no older than her. She was obviously exceptionally intelligent and from her dress sense, I guessed she had some kind of high-powered professional job. I didn’t really understand the situation.

“How do you mean ‘provide’? I mean…” I faltered. she quickly interrupted me with a giggle.

“Oh no! I’m not an escort – we really love each other! I mean he looks after me, cares about me and makes me happy. I’m perfectly capable of providing for myself, but Ian enjoys it and we have a life together. I just have needs he struggles to meet.”

“I need a drink,” I said. I caught the waitress’s eye and she came over. “Three G&Ts please, one for my friend and his fianc√©e.”

The waitress smiled, looked at Ian and Eva and said, “Congratulations! Of course, sir,” and returned to the bar.

Eva continued, “He particularly enjoys the humiliation. He has seen me with a few lovers, and it stimulates him enormously. He’s very attentive and loving for days afterwards.”

As the waitress returned with our drinks, I turned and kissed Eva full on the mouth. She instantly reciprocated, her teeth nibbling my lip as my hand slid along the skirt to her constrained buttocks.

The waitress lifted one of the glasses, saw our passionate embrace, and stuttered, “For your… fianc√©e, you, sir, and your… erm… friend.”

I didn’t stop. My other hand cupped a breast, kneading it softly, feeling the nipple harden. After a minute, I released her from my grip. A little of her hair fell down her face.

Ian was crimson. And silent. We all were. Had I gone too far? I thought he liked the humiliation? Why did I care if he liked it? I have only two feelings about men: neutrality or irritation. I guess it was vicarious – Eva had said he liked it, and it was her I wanted to please.

“Wow,” said Eva. “You see, after your ‘discussion’ at the party, it was clear to me that you enjoy belittling men, but I had no idea you were so good at it.”

I was, again, genuinely confused. It kind of felt like a setup. I didn’t “enjoy” belittling men, it was just that he had been acting like a prick, so I thought I’d lance that particular boil rather than play stupid games competing while remaining polite. Eva continued,

“…but public humiliation is a first for us, isn’t it, Ian?”

“Yes,” he answered, shifting in his seat, “I found it very stimulating – your passion, I mean.”

He was lying. He could see the waitress sniggering and discreetly pointing at is from behind the bar. He found the idea of the waitress knowing his secret exciting. He was alert, on the look out, his fight or flight hormones raging, his heart pumping. I bet he even had an erection.

A few minutes passed as we drank. I continued to touch Eva, hoping that we’d get to my part of the plan. As the glasses were approaching empty, I thought I’d better make my move, or this was going to fizzle. I wasn’t used to flirting with a man watching, and was beginning to feel out of my depth.

I caught the waitress’s eye again.

“Yes, sir?” she asked.

“Could you arrange a room for us please?” I asked politely.

“Certainly, sir. Could I have your credit card for the reservation please?”

There was a slight pause. I looked straight across the table at Ian, “Ian?”

He reached into his pocket, took out his wallet, removed the card and gave it to the waitress. We sat in silence as Ian avoided eye contact. I’d probably just cost him ¬£300.

A few minutes later, she returned.

“Room 5, on the first floor,” and handed the card back to Ian.

As we stood to leave, I put my hand on Ian’s shoulder and said, “No, we’ll text you shortly, wait here.”

“But…” he objected. I looked straight at him. No words were said. Eva was almost panting with excitement. He stopped hovering above the seat like some kind of insect and sat back, defeated. We made for the stairs.

I took Eva by the hand and led her to the room. The sounds of traffic and her clicking heels on the floor seemed like a film soundtrack. A thirty-second walk seemed to last for hours. Once in the room, clothes were pulled off and words exchanged.

“God, you’re so much better at this than I expected,” she panted.

“Just doing what comes naturally,” I assured her.

We kissed furiously like this was our last opportunity. She was sexier than I remembered from the party. It’d been dark in the garden, but here I could see how firm she was. With the most fantastic breasts – full, but high and with little give when grabbed. I bent down to take her hard nipple into my mouth. She reached for my cock, which pressed hard into her belly, unable to get her hands around it’s girth. We stumbled out of our underwear and toppled on to the bed.

I don’t really consider myself what some would call a “generous” lover. I’m happy to take my time – go down, explore, stimulate – but in reality, for me, it’s all about the fucking. I love to fuck. I love to shove my cock into a woman and and feel the ridges of her cunt as I thrust. I love to hold them down and use them for my physical pleasure. My mind stops racing and I can be entirely focussed on the smells, sensations and sounds of kissing, fucking and coming. I consider it a huge bonus if that’s the kind of coupling my partner desires – but only a bonus, not a necessity. Given the unexpected nature of this encounter, and a lingering feeling that the devil makes work for (Ian’s) idle hands, I wasn’t going to make this a marathon.

“Turn over and lie flat on the bed,” I commanded.

She did as she was told. I slid on top of her body, my now throbbing cock placed just under her buttocks, filling the gap between her thighs. I pushed her legs apart with my knee and placed her neck in the crook of my elbow to prevent her from moving forward. With a single thrust, I penetrated her cunt to it’s fullest. She momentarily tensed and then completely surrendered as was she bound by my arm around her neck. As I thrust, I grabbed her phone from the bed where she’d dropped it, held it in front of us and took a picture. There were no words as I hammered home. Slowly, her body tensed, her limbs straightened, fingers and toes extended then curled, and her back arched, lifting me a few inches.

The most intense sound came from her – like an animal’s cry, it grew and escaped as she came; a soft, cracking, scream. Still, I kept pumping into her, her body now perspiring from the tension of her continuous orgasm. As I joined her, we both bent backwards, as the most almighty load was delivered into her and the flexing of my arm muscles started to choke her. I flopped back on top of her and released her neck. She started panting. Breathing like the animal that had escaped the predator one more time. I rolled off her – she’d given me what I wanted.

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