For a few years now I have thought of summarizing my experiences as a dominator of married couples, a "Bull," to put it in the vernacular. I don't like the term, but there it is. I'm nearing 50, and therefore must consider retirement from this venture pretty soon. I want my leaving the arena to be my idea, not something implied by an unsatisfied couple who wish they had a younger man in charge. And I have decided to write about it.
I've had a long roll of the dice and it has been pretty magnificent, all things considered. Not all rosy, in fact there have been tense moments, but I have been blessed through it all with no violent episodes. There has been some regret and heartbreak, and it took years for me to know when to back out of a tryst in time to avoid painful feelings. The backout rate is high; about 30%.
I'm not a black man, as is presented in the stereotypes. Many bulls are, of course, but not as prevalent as pop culture has us believe. I have been blessed with large genitals, and though, on average, it really has been a blessing, its lack of compactness has sometimes been troublesome. I might also note that I don't think it's possible for me to do what I do if my penis size were typical. A very large penis plays so completely into the fantasy element of cuckolding for both husband and wife that it must be deemed essential.
One must be a natural in this role I play. I have no submissiveness in me. I'm not a bully, and I have nothing to prove, but if I am not in charge of a situation I get uncomfortable. I dress well, my hygiene is as faultless as it can be without being neurotic. I am fit. At no time have I not been superior to any husband in these areas in my interactions.
And it must be a husband and wife. On that I am adamant. It is uncomfortable for me to admit, even anonymously, that I am not sexually charged by any woman who is not married to another male. And I might add, I never meet in hotels; I insist that at least part of the festivities take place in the marital bed.
It may be good to note that most "bulls" do not work the way I do. Most of my colleagues work a particular demographic (if indeed they pursue the trade at all really professionally), from slums and trailer parks to your nest door neighbors. And most do so casually, from a professional and business standpoint. I do not. The demographic I work, exclusively due to referrals, is Midwestern and wealthy. While some of my colleagues take a bus to work, I often hop a plane.
In future installments I may address other aspects such as how the contact is made, the meetings are arranged, the careful preliminaries, payment and such. But in each of these accounts I would like to relate one of a few particular encounters that have been especially memorable to me.
I'll begin with a recent rendezvous that took place in Grosse Pointe Farms, a suburb of Detroit. We'll call them Faye and Edward, obviously not their real names. They were in their mid-30s at the time (a few short years ago) and had no experience whatever in cuckolding, or even the sort of playfulness that usually is found in couples contemplating my services. So a red flag went up at once for me. It was unnecessary.
We met for dinner at a chop house in Grosse Point. Edward is a college professor, fit, short, soft-spoken. Faye is a little taller than Ed, thick black hair, with that slimness-just-turning-into-fullness that lucky women possess about that age. She's Irish. Blue eyes with a hint of deviltry. Lovely face.
About a half-hour into conversation we turned toward the main issue. Here is when I find out what it is exactly they are looking for. Though Faye did most of the chatting, she clammed up pretty tightly during this stage of the conversation, and soft-spoken Ed took over.
"She needs a man with more, I dunno, 'manliness' about him. I can't give her that and she deserves what she wants," he told me. "I want to serve her. She's so good to me. And I'll serve the man who can bring all this to her. I'll do whatever he, well, whatever you, want me to do. Felix [the man who referred Ed to me] told me all I need to know. You changed their life."
That pretty much said it all, and I was grateful for the clarity. By the end of our dinner, I had gained their trust and confidence. I don't do pain. No S&M. That's a different trade, and they didn't want that.
"You understand that when next we meet, I'll seem very different to you. But if you trust me, I can bring you what you want. Both of you." And that is how we met.
When I arrived at their home two days later around sunset, we sat and had a drink in the parlor. Well, they each had a drink; I was working. In this room I declared that it was always to be a place of transition. When we left the parlor, I would be fully in charge, but here my role was softer. Not relinquished completely - there was to be no "equality" among us - but in the parlor we were to be more relaxed and friendly.
About 20 minutes passed this way, and I suggested that I might like to see the bedroom. I heard Faye inhale sharply and look over to Ed. He smiled, nodded, stood, and the three of us left the soft safety of the parlor and passed into the strange new world that now included me.
Faye wore a white shirt with buttons tucked into a black pleated skirt that went a little above the knee, bare legs, bare feet. No heels, garters, or any of the trashy accoutrements that one associates with this situation. I was happy at that. Ed? He was dressed in jeans and a blue shirt.
I have no set routine at this stage; I go with my gut. I am confident, and that has never failed me. I stood looking at the pair standing in front of me. I held out my hand to Faye. She looked at Ed as she took my hand and advanced to me.
I moved her to my side.
"Have you ever seen Faye kiss another man before, Ed?"
"No," he whispered back.
"'No, sir.'" I corrected.
"No, sir," he replied.
"Well, watch." and with that I kissed Faye. She was stiff at first, but she gradually melted into my arms. After our luscious kiss I looked at Ed.
"Ed, pull my zipper down and take out my cock."
Faye gasped and Ed just stood there looking like a dear caught in the high beams.
"Ed, I do not want to repeat myself."
He snapped from his trance and slowly advanced, looked down and tugged on my zipper. The soft sound of the unzipping was chilling to Faye, whom I held in my left arm, around her waist. Ed paused and looked into the unzipped darkness but did nothing.
"It won't bite, Ed," I said. Then to Faye: "Tell Ed to take out my cock."
"Ed, honey... take out John's... cock." she whispered. I could feel her trembling.
Ed reached in and my organ flopped free, not fully erect, but I would guess about the eight-inch stage, and it swung from side to side before settling down.
"O my god," Faye said.
"Say it," I ordered.
"It's... so much bigger..."
"Than Ed's?" I laughed. "Ed - pull your pants down to your knees." He did. "O god... pull your jockeys down, too."
Ed followed the command and his penis was on display. It was three inches, hanging very uninspired.
"Ed," I said, "your penis is quite small."
"Well, compared to yours... sir."
"Let me see your erection," I ordered. With that Ed worked his little rod until it began jerking to life. I instructed Faye to reach down and stroke my cock to a similar sate. When Ed finished had a nice five-inch boner, while he watched his wife stroke me to more than twice his length and girth.
"Ed, come here and put the head of your wiener next to the head of my cock." And he did. "Faye, what do we see here?"
She breathed it out in a whisper. "Your cock is magnificent."
"And?"
"And Ed's... wiener... is really pathetic next to it."
"Well, Ed," I asked, "wouldn't you agree?
