For a while now, I’ve been pulling back from my life as a bull. Though it’s one of the most thrilling roles I’ve embraced, it drains me in every sense. Identifying as a bi-bull, I thrive on the elements of humiliation and control that come with it.
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I’ve purposely kept this lifestyle away from my circle of friends. In the past, mentioning it sparked misunderstandings, with some assuming it meant I intended to pursue their partners—which wasn’t true at all. Among all my friends, only Miguel has been in the know. We’ve been friends for a decade, and while Miguel never showed much interest in my bull exploits, there was always something curious about how he enjoyed flaunting his wife, Camila, in front of me.
The turning point came unexpectedly when Miguel accidentally sent me a nude photo of Camila. He quickly apologized, but soon after, he asked what I thought of the image. Honestly, Camila was breathtaking—especially her firm, rounded backside that made me want to bury my face in it endlessly. From that moment on, Miguel seemed to find subtle ways to showcase more of Camila. Whenever I visited his house, her lingerie would be hanging out to dry in the yard. He’d casually show me photos from his gallery, which inevitably featured Camila. And when we hung out together, we’d squeeze onto a two-seater sofa, where her leg often draped over me.
Surprisingly, none of this made me uncomfortable. In fact, I began to accept and even savor the physical contact I had with her. Passing through tight spaces, my erection would brush against her ass, or if she was kneeling nearby, I’d deliver a firm slap to her cheeks. She’d mock-annoy me at first, but we’d both break into laughter moments later. This playful dynamic persisted for years—until one day, everything shifted.
At work, Camila reached out unexpectedly. My mind raced with worry at first, but then she sent me a photo of herself in delicate lingerie, teasingly asking how Miguel’s best friend was and if I thought he’d like her outfit. Before I could reply, another shot arrived—this one featuring a pearl thong that left nothing to the imagination. Unable to resist, I slipped away to the bathroom, letting my hands explore urgently. When I returned to messaging, I told her I preferred the second set. Her response was playful yet loaded: “If you like it, Miguel will love it.”
This game had taken root, dominating my thoughts and stirring fantasies. Even hearing Miguel mention Camila would make my cock hard. Our next gathering sealed the unspoken truth. Determined to keep some distance out of guilt, I tried to be more reserved, even as Miguel proudly flaunted Camila before me. The day passed uneventfully until Camila suggested watching a movie to lighten the mood.
Settling in, she casually draped her leg over me. Gradually, her foot found my cock, hidden beneath my pants. Her gentle, teasing strokes sent shivers through me; she slid her foot along my length as if it was perfectly molded for her touch. Miguel watched the screen, oblivious to the growing tension. Camila’s breathing grew ragged as she inched closer, resting her face against my neck. I tried to resist but glanced at her, signaling to stop. Instead, her lips pressed against my ear as she murmured, “Can I suck your cock?”
That whispered question broke the dam. Without hesitation, I freed my cock as Camila lowered her shorts, sliding between Miguel and me. Her mouth swallowed me desperately, saliva dripping as she took me deep, while Miguel’s face found refuge buried in her firm ass. Between eager sucks, she praised my cock and thanked Miguel for this chance—her desires laid bare. I finally spoke, locking eyes with Miguel: “Do you like your wife swallowing my cock?”
He emerged briefly from her ass, shyly whispering, “Yes.” That simple word ignited something fierce inside me. “Louder, idiot,” I commanded. “Your best friend wants to give your wife a good load.” Miguel responded quietly, “Fill her mouth, she’s yours for today.” I corrected him with a smirk, “She’s mine whenever I want from now on.” Grabbing Camila’s head firmly to hold her in place, I exploded in her throat, refusing to let her pull away until I emptied myself completely and softened.
The rest of the day, we indulged in raw pleasure, but what I remember most vividly is Miguel’s quiet confession—the admission that he was a cuckold—that day changed everything.
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