PREFACE: This story deals with consensual cuckoldry. If this is not your thing, please move on and keep your negative comments to yourself. As an 'ethical' Bull, I do not condone non-consensual cheating behavior. All my interactions as a Bull have been with the informed consent of all parties involved, the enthusiastic consent of the husband, and the unconditional willingness of the wife (she wanted it for herself, not to please her husband). This is an accurate non-fictional account of becoming the Bull for a friend's wife in my mid-late 20's. The series is written with robust context and backstory to assist the reader in understanding how I started the life of a Bull and the personal challenges Bulls face on our journey to your wife's bedroom. It illustrates how it really happened for me, how it alters relationships, and doesn't leave out the challenges or unflattering aspects. The first installment is very tame, the second installment will be significantly more risquΓ©. If you are looking for graphic content and don't care about the backstory, then please skip to Chapter 2-to be released in the coming days.
PROLOGUE: The backstory
I had recently been divorced after a 7-year marriage and was devastated. The now ex-wife was an abusive and overly jealous woman. Anytime another woman would talk to me, she was going to be punish me for it. It didn't matter who, it could be an 80-year-old woman in a wheelchair. She was always convinced that I was going to be unfaithful to her. And to that end, she used every mental and emotional tactic she could to wither my confidence and self-esteem. I don't say any of this to invoke feelings of pity from the reader, more so to illustrate my discontent and my mental state leading to me entering service as a Bull.
Being newly single opened a whole new world for me (cue that song from Disney's 'Aladdin'). Suddenly, I had more money than I ever had in my checking account (turns out wives can be expensive). I had free time to pursue my interests without hindrance. A close friend helped me land a sweet gig as a fencing instructor at one of the oldest athletic clubs in the Gulf South. I also used the newly found free time to study and obtain my personal training certification (ACE). After a few months, my clientele had increased dramatically. My positivity and constant encouragement helped many achieve their fitness goals. About six months in, my side hustles made more than my regular paycheck. Altogether, I was making around $80k a year in the deep south in the late 1990's. It would be equivalent to around $150k in today's money in a state with a much lower cost of living than most (I.E. my luxury 2-bedroom condo at the marina was $500 a month at this time).
I stood at 6'1" with a 48-inch chest, massive wide shoulders, and lats, with a 33-inch waist complete with ripped abdominal muscles. My body fat was such that you could run an IV-line on my abs (sub 9%). My Circassian blue eyes, full lips, neatly groomed beard, and shaved skull made middle-aged wives seek me out as a personal trainer. The optimistic and body positive approach was another reason they loved me. I was phenomenally successful and later ended up sleeping with some of my clients -- but that's a story for another time.
I was living my best life. I had my own small circle of friends. I was re-emerging from the long darkness of an abusive marriage and finding happiness at every turn. And that is how it all started...
I was great friends with a woman who went by Mal (short for Mallory). We met while working out and had post workout beers at the bar in the athletic club (the bar had a polished copper top). Her husband Calvin also worked out there and would often join us for drinks. Calvin was in his late 40's and his wife Mal was 27 years old. Soon, we became so close that I would spend time together at their place in lieu of going back home after the gym. We usually stayed out late, and I frequently crashed in their guest room. We all became close and one night Calvin shared some things with me that had weighed heavily on his mind.
Chapter 1: Calvin Opens Up
One night in the Fall, Calvin asked me to come over to hang out to watch his favorite SEC football team play. Mal was out shopping with her mother. I parked my Yamaha Road Star (classic styled motorcycle) out front, while Calvin was already at the door waiting for me. Calvin was six feet and four inches tall and was extremely fit. You couldn't miss his imposing figure in the doorway. It should be stated up front that Calvin was an attractive and intimidating man. I reasoned that he could tear my arms out of their sockets, like an angry Wookie if he wanted. While this man is a cuckold, he does not project it at all in public. He was a very dominant, confident, and sexually attractive male to the casual observer.
"Come on, man, the game's about to start," he shouted.
In the deep south, the SEC is a way of life for many people. Every game night, Calvin had things set up in his man-cave, which was an extravagantly appointed guest house. If I haven't mentioned this to you before, Calvin is loaded, think double digit million-dollar net worth in the 90's. His house and his man-cave reflected that financial affluence. He always catered for game nights. Just getting an invite to his place was a huge deal. Usually there were at least a dozen guests.
"Calvin, look at this spread!", I exclaimed. "It's just us? Where is everyone? Am I that early?"
Calvin nodded and said, "Tiger, it's just us tonight. We have something special for you in the fridge top shelf. Mal was telling me how you really missed certain things from living overseas. Her idea, she insisted."
My mind started spinning trying to think about what it could be. I had set foot on every continent except for Antarctica as the son of a diplomat, so the list is huge. He saw that I was perplexed and said, "Go take a look!"
As I pulled open the door, I audibly gasped. I stared at a large gallon plastic container filled with "Ecuadorian Ceviche de Ostiones" (Black Surf Clam Ceviche in their own ink). I filled bowls for both of us while Calvin made drinks. Calvin started drinking early in the afternoon. When Calvin drank, he had zero filter and zero chill. It was one of the reasons I loved drinking with him. The things that would come out of his mouth were always entertaining. Although, I never expected what he'd share with me that fateful night.
As we sat in front of his massive television screen, he started the conversation that would change my life forever.
"Connor, it sucks getting old man," he said, "Let me ask you something?"
"We love having you over and you are a dear friend, but (long pause)... Are we keeping you from finding a companion by monopolizing your time? You have physical and emotional needs that can only be met from an intimate relationship. For instance, when is the last time you went on a date or heck, got laid?!" he questioned.
Taken aback, what I thought I heard was "Dude you are over way too much we need some space brother."
Defensively I responded, "If you need me to not come around so much, I won't be hurt or offended. I can give you space." I said defensively.
"Answering your question, I'm not ready for a full relationship, these last few years were miserable, and I want to just have fun right now. All the women in my age range seem to be focused on finding a husband and making babies. It's been over a year, and it isn't because there weren't offers. They just weren't offers I wanted to accept. Too many strings and expectations. It's why I love hanging out with your wife. She isn't interested in anything other than having fun and goofing off with me. She's better than a girlfriend. We give each other a tough time and our prank wars are epic. She's always up for an adventure. I just need you to know I would never betray you or Mal by overstepping. I promise it's all play Calvin. If I upset either of you, let me know and I'll knock it off immediately."