Perspective

While I had become more accustomed to my situation with the delicious Eva, I still didn't really know why or how I was in this position. And my understanding of Ian's was non-existent. Whatever childhood trauma or Freudian shit he was subject to remained completely opaque to me. He was no more a man in my mind than my favourite shoes were.

That changed at our next meeting. It was like Eva turned on a light and I could see.

The next day, another text arrived.

E: Our place for dinner, Friday at 8? Location to follow.

S: Sounds great. Need me to bring anything?

"Please say no," I said to myself. I was skint. I'd probably have to take a bus.

E: Nothing you haven't before.

It was going to be a long few days.

Friday finally arrived. I'd abstained from self-pleasuring over that photo of us for almost two days in order to give her the best night yet.

I'd managed to scrape together enough to get the tube to Covent Garden. Her place was a flat on a very trendy corner. I was actually surprised that they hobnobbed with lowly Gabby and Dan out in zone 2.

I pressed the button on the intercom. Eva answered,

"Come on up, top floor"

The door clicked and I pushed it open. It was the swankiest place I'd been invited to. All glass and chrome stairs. I pressed the lift button and the doors silently opened. The button at the top was labelled "Penthouse".

Thirty seconds later, the door opened onto a landing with a huge wooden door. I knocked and it swung open.

"Up here," called Eva.

I climbed the stairs to what can only be described as a modern art gallery-style room with a huge glass wall beyond which was a roof terrace manicured like a Geisha with a hot tub big enough to dive into and a fantastic view over the river Thames.

Try as I might, I couldn't help thinking I'd hit pay dirt. I wasn't a greedy person, and money wasn't important to me, but that's the kind of attitude you develop when you don't have any.

Eva was stretched out on a lounger taking in the last of the evening sun.

"Very cool place you have here," I said.

"Thanks," she said nonchalantly, "we like it. Come through to the dining room."

A beautifully laid table for two was set out. We sat, and although I was expecting a repeat of our previous two encounters, it appeared Eva had a different kind of evening in mind. She was relaxed, in what I guess she thought was casual clothing, though she still looked like a pop starlet with perfect make-up, and, no sign of Ian.

Given we'd met twice already, was he given the night off? Did I finally get her to myself?

We started talking. She sat opposite me, so the usual touching wasn't possible. She wanted to get to know me. I suppose I was flattered, but did that mean she was less interested in getting physical?

A few minutes later, Ian came in carrying two plates, he placed them down, smiled, and returned to the kitchen.

"He's your waiter too?" I asked.

"No," she giggled, "just this evening, to give us a chance to get to know each other."

The food was exquisite.

"You're a fantastic cook," I ventured.

"No," again, she giggled, "Ian's the cook. I'm terrible. I burn water."

"So he has some uses then," I said.

"Of course. I told you that. He's great company. Smart. Talented. Funny. Why do you think I'm marrying him?"

I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say. I'd assumed you married someone you couldn't get enough of. Someone who you wanted to fuck 24/7, though in all honesty, I'd never really given it much thought. Marriage sounded like a girlfriend you couldn't ditch and responsibilities you didn't want.

Ian came in, took our plates and returned with a main course.

"Thanks, cucky," Eva said and smiled at him. I snorted my drink and apologised.

"Cucky?" I grinned. Eva was maybe five or six years older than me, I guessed. I felt like a naughty child.

"Yes. He's a cuckold, I told you last time. I'm a hotwife and you're a bull."

"I didn't realise our titles were so formal." There was a slightly sarcastic tone in my voice.

"They're just words to describe how we relate to each other," Eva said. "This kind of arrangement is more common than you think. It helps to know who's who."

"And I'm a 'bull'."

"Oh yes, you most certainly are."

I put down my cutlery. And looked across the table. My puzzlement was obvious. As far as I was concerned, Ian was a dickless loser, Eva was fucking hot, and I was on to a good thing.

"Let me try and explain," she said. "You know how women are socially conditioned. Be good. Be submissive. Don't sleep around. Don't get pregnant. Don't question or challenge the men in your life. Sex is the price of security... That bullshit."

I nodded. Sounded pretty normal to me. She continued, "...well, many women work it out too late. After their youth and beauty has faded, after they've been mothers, they see that time passes quickly, and the opportunities for real sexual satisfaction are rapidly disappearing. That's why you see so many middle-aged women at swingers clubs..."

"Do you?" I thought, "hmmm... maybe I should check that out."

She kept talking, I picked up my cutlery and refocused.

"...well, there's the same system for men, but the rules are different. Don't back down. Get as many women as you can. Make money. Be successful. Fuck like a porn star..."

Now I was listening. I don't think anyone had read me the rules, but she was right. Except, in my case, the success and money bits just never seemed that important. Not if you fucked like a porn star - but looking around me, maybe I was wrong.

"It's not that we don't value other characteristics like honour, compassion, understanding, generosity, but no kid ever got teased or bullied in school for not being compassionate enough. Only for backing down, being afraid to talk to a girl or being a loser."

I suppose she was right. At least, she'd said nothing that I disagreed with.

"But what if you can't do those things? Should we ignore the other positives? Ian is never going to fuck like a porn star. It'd be like asking a blind man to see. He just isn't built for it, but he has all the other qualities adults value. Should he be excluded from society? Considered unworthy?"

I guessed not, but why marry someone who didn't set your pulse racing?

At that moment, the lights went on. Like floodlights at the start of a football game. Just persuade that guy you can get it elsewhere. Perfect. But what kind of guy would accept that? Ian would, because the alternative would be a life of solitude and pretence. Two things I actually did know about.

"No," she continued, "Good guys are good guys, and Ian's a good guy. In fact, he's a very good guy as he understands why I need sexual freedom. He knows that if he ignores his social conditioning, then so can I."

I was about to tell her I get it, but she was on a roll.

"Say men like that were excluded. What would happen? They'd be bitter, angry, misogynistic, lonely, frustrated, aggressive. I heard they're calling them 'involuntary celibate' or something like that." This was the early 2000s, and 'incel' wasn't a common term back then.

"This is a much better way. Good men get life partners, women get fulfilled. The only problem is finding the right bull."

I grinned. She meant me. I actually got it. I was like a guide dog for the blind, or in this case a guide cock for the dickless. I found it funny.

"What's so amusing?" she asked.

"Nothing. Really. The penny just dropped. I was smiling at my simplistic view of it. So now I see why Ian is cool with it. I just don't think I would be," I replied

"No one is asking you to be. The point here is we all get to be ourselves. You're a very sexual man. In this arrangement, that's fine - nothing more, nothing less."

Ian came in with dessert. We continued to chat. I actually felt a bit for the guy. Without having to force anything, it just came out, I asked him,

"You've not been near my cunt, have you Ian?"

"Ian, show him," Eva said.

He dutifully dropped his trousers and boxers, and there was this plastic clip on his cock. I literally spat out my food.

"What IS that?" I spluttered.

"That is a cock cage. It helps Ian accept his limitations, and prevents him from attempting orgasm."

"You mean he can't even wank?"

"No, not unless I permit it," she replied. She showed me a tiny key on a chain around her neck.

"Fuck me, you two take this seriously," I mumbled. I was surprised there were so many facets to this. You could actually buy things like that! "I'm really discovering some new stuff."

They looked pleased with themselves. Ian even gave Eva's hand a little squeeze.

"I think I'd like to show you something new," I said to Eva. "Let's go dancing. I know some great clubs."

"But I've prepared the bedroom!" Ian whined.

"Shut up," I tossed back at him, I knew he'd have a stirring in his jizz jail or whatever they called it.

"Seriously, Eva, I love dancing, I'm not bad at it. It's won many a girl's heart," I said. There was a slight hesitation - they'd planned the evening their way, and I was the stunt cock or whatever. I wasn't meant to have other talents.

She looked at me intensely for a couple of seconds, and said, "Sure, why not."

Back then, there were these great popup nightclubs, often under railway arches. If you didn't know them, you'd walk straight past them at most times of the day. They were cheap and were promoted by fly posters on lampposts and unused doors. I used to be a real regular at one a year or two previously. For a professional woman living in Covent Garden, it was going to be an eye-opener. Each club had its own sub-culture and crowd with nuanced music and fashion. SE1 under London Bridge station was good. A fantastic crowd, gay, straight, singles, couples and all really chilled and friendly. Not a "did you spill my pint?" kind of arsehole in sight. I'd met many a sexy woman there. The music was up-tempo and original. Since then they've all been developed into retail outlets or expensive cafes. But back then, it was all new and had a really fresh vibe about it.

The cab discharged us outside in Weston Street twenty minutes later. The queue wasn't so long - it was relatively early at around 10:30, and I recognised the doorman even though I'd not been there for quite a few months. I tried to catch his eye but thought he'd forgotten me when all of a sudden he raised his hands and beckoned me over.

"Steven! Mate! The legend is back!" he called out. I laughed out loud.

"Legend, Marcus? Legendary for what?" I called back as we walked to the head of the queue.

"You know what! Legendary woman whisperer! Not that anyone will hear you whisper in there - it's heaving already."

Marcus noticed Eva next to me. "Oops! Sorry, love, I don't mean to cast aspersions. He's a lovely bloke, but keep him on a tight leash. The man's an animal."

She looked round at me. "On past form, yes, he certainly is."

Marcus ushered us in. I won't bore you with the details, but it was, as he said, heaving. There were some incredibly sexy women, choons to rip up the dance floor, three different fluorescent-coloured shots to drink from tiny plastic cups that now covered the floor like frost and a sound system and light show that were pretty amazing, considering it all had to be packed up and moved to another venue for tomorrow, until the following week.

I didn't hold back. After a couple of drinks, we were in the middle of the crowd writhing to the thumping synths like kids. I saw a guy I knew, dashed over and was back in under a minute. Eva had barely noticed. The old girl looked like she was seventeen and back in the Czech Republic or wherever she came from - or so I imagined. I tapped her on the shoulder and shouted in her ear. She couldn't hear me and indicated by shaking her head and pointing her fingers at her ears. I tried again - same result. I lifted my hand and showed her what I'd obtained. Two little pills with hearts on them. She kind of slowed, frowned, looked at me and said something. I shook my head and pointed my fingers at my ears. She shook her head.

I took a pill, put it in my mouth and swallowed. "TRUST ME", I mouthed. She looked hesitant. I took the second pill and put it in my mouth. I put my arms around her neck and motioned her to come closer. She paused, just for a second, then stepped toward me. I kissed her deeply, passed her the pill and she swallowed.

Back in the early 2000s, Es were big in the UK. These were good. Within a few minutes, our eyes darkened, the lights became brighter, the music seemed to move us in synchrony and I felt an overwhelming need to hold Eva. We danced together like that for what seemed like ages, but it could have been minutes or hours. Eva was squashed up against a stunning black woman of maybe twenty with an amazing afro, lemon yellow shades and a kind of poncho dress.

Eva turned around, wrapped her arms around the woman and hugged her from behind like she was her oldest friend back from the dead. The girl turned, saw our saucer-like eyes and smiled what seemed to be the biggest, happiest smile I'd ever seen. She embraced Eva and they danced as one. I put my arms around them both and we all just melted together in rhythm.

The evening didn't seem to slow down, but at some point, we left and headed back to Eva's. I must have been around 3 am, maybe 4? I really have no idea. We kissed and hugged in the taxi. The driver kept looking in the mirror - probably hoping we were going to give him a show to remember, but the Es kept us mellow.

We snuck into the flat so as not to wake Ian, and headed for the bedroom. The clothes just fell off somehow and we were entwined on the bed, touching, exploring, probing, kissing. I found myself sitting up against the bed head. Eva lowered herself onto my throbbing rod and started riding. In my altered state, time was like dream time - it was both quick but minutely detailed - I couldn't tell how long she'd been there. We turned over and over and I continued to fill her. I kissed and bit her and my cock was rock-hard but my heart rate stayed flat.

It was the pill. It was too strong for me and I wasn't going to come. Hardly the porn star fuck I'd been brought in for. I started to tell Eva I wasn't feeling it, or that I was a bit tired or something.

She put her finger to my lips to quiet me, climbed off and slid down my body, her breasts following her down, her nipples drawing lines on my shoulders, chest and legs. In my heightened state, it was like she'd drawn two lines down my body with electrified needles. She lay between my legs and placed her lips on my hard but recalcitrant cock. Her perfect buttocks caught the light and looked like a pair of smiling, silvery moons.

Try as she might, just like every other girl who tried, she couldn't fit my helmet past her teeth. My erection had no intention of subsiding.

She motioned for me to slide down the bed onto my back. She climbed back over me and placed her sex over my mouth. The bittersweet smell of her finally got my pulse rate slowly rising.

Muffled by her thighs, I heard her call, "Ian. Ian? Come in here."

He dutifully arrived, the metal of the tiny lock clinking with each step.

"Help me out here," she said to him as I gently swirled my tongue around her sex. Suddenly, I felt a warm, wetness enveloping my cock. I couldn't see a thing, which was just as well as I wasn't gay. Although, in fact, the few male friends I had were gay. I think we shared a kind of outsiders' view of things that made it easier to get along, but I'd never found them sexually attractive.

However, in my loved-up state, the larger jawline of the male of the species was just what was required. Ian seemed to be bobbing up and down - I could hear the clinking of his lock on the cock cage (dick dock? jizz jail? prick prison?... whatever - I was off my face) and he moved more forcefully to try and take more of my cock. Eva's scent was working on my brain. The smells and tastes were so evocative and I couldn't deny the sensations were taking me somewhere familiar. As my pleasure rose, I pulled harder on Eva's nipples, distorting her tits into what felt like shapes no one had ever seen or imagined. The drugs, the senses, the emotions all came together and I finally released into Ian's mouth. He choked, snorted, slurped and swallowed. Eva, slid back and forth over my face until she too gripped my head with her thighs so hard I started to see stars. Finally, she collapsed onto the bed beside me.

"Ian," Eva said, "go back to your room. I'll see you in the morning."

I wondered why I'd bothered saving my cum, since it ended up in Ian, not Eva. What a waste of either some quality wanking or a huge load. Within the plastic tube, I could see a small pink finger straining. "Poor guy," I thought, "that's going to be sore," but in my post-coital haze, as the come-down proceeded, a second voice said, "Fucking loser, you'll never be able to do what I can." even if I had just received my first-ever blowjob.

It was a cruel thought, or at least demonstrated a deep disdain for him - but this wasn't really news. Irrespective of the roles and titles, the situation was clear: I fucked her. He just had to deal with it.

I suppose that's what you need in a bull.