Black Bull 08: First Date - Sex Stories

Black Bull 08: First Date

... perhaps a post-orgasmic tingle? Her face was still flushed, beautifully rosy.

She reached out her hand as I turned mine to grasp a hold, our fingers intermeshing.

"Well," said Samuel, an impish grin on his face, "I would suggest you wait until later before passing judgement."

He winked at me. Christ, if that was just the *starter*...!

The bull leaned forward in his chair, angling his body to face my wife. She looked back at him, expectantly. He reached out, taking a hold of her left hand so she was being held by both of us.

"If I might be so bold Claire, could I suggest we retire to the bedroom?"

"Oh," she replied, a wicked smile playing across her face, "I think that sounds *wonderful*!"

She turned, facing me.

"What do you think, darling, do you want to see your little wife getting her brains fucked out?"

I was amazed at just how naturally this all seemed to flow, how we all occupied what felt like our natural roles - me, her husband, giddy and willing, the bull, domineering and powerful, and, most of all, my wife, willing, subservient. I'd never really seen her like that - she was always in charge, in control. But her *giving* herself just felt right.

I nodded, vigorously, as if someone was asking me if I wanted the winning lottery numbers.

My wife unwound her fingers from mine, looking back at Samuel.

"Take me to bed or lose me forever," she purred, the man hoisting her into the air and into his big arms.

****

Samuel threw Claire ...

... down onto the large, plush white bed, my wife letting out a little squeak of excitement as she bounced on her back. I was stood to the left of the super king size, by the side, watching on with barely contained with glee.

"Take off your panties Claire," he ordered.

She excitedly squeaked again, lifting her legs up, pulling her knickers off, handing them to me; fuck, they were sodden!

The bull moved to the large dresser to the right of the bed, opening a drawer. He retrieved a large white stick, the end of it a blue ball-like object, about the size of a tennis ball, slightly flattened at the bottom. He smiled down at Claire, my wife's eyes wide, biting her bottom lip, as she stared at the thing in Samuel's hand.

He stood to her right, looming over her, facing across from me.

"Do you know what this is Claire?" he said, holding the stick just above her tummy.

She bit her lip harder.

"I *think* so," she lied; I knew she knew full well exactly what the thing was. She was enjoying playing the part of the seemingly naive young woman. Of *course* she knew. He *knew* she knew. Playing it like this just seemed to enhance the delightful anticipation, fitting into the role her bull clearly had in mind for her. He wanted submissive and playful? She wasn't going to disappoint.

Samuel smiled down at her, leaning over her, pulling up her dress, pushing her legs apart, forcibly, leaving neither of us in any doubt as to who was in charge here.

"I think you're going to ...