Branded by the Bull: Cuckolded & Humiliated Read online

  Branded by the Bull

  Cuckolded & Humiliated

  Natasha Hunter

  copyright © 2017

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be copied or reproduced in any format without prior consent of the owner and publisher of this book.

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  Naomi and I had been married for six perfect years before I decided to come clean about what I wanted sexually. Honestly, I hadn't even realized what I craved until several years after we had married. The discovery was by chance, a random day when Naomi was cleaning out her closet and tossing away a few boxes of mementos from some old boyfriends. On the top of the pile, there was a stack of letters from Deacon, a guy she dated in college. Curious, I asked if she minded if I read them. She gave me permission and I scanned through a few of them, finding nothing of note until I saw a picture of Naomi and Deacon posed in front of some large brick building on campus. Until seeing that photo, I had never known that Deacon was black.

  It wasn't a huge deal to me, but more of a curiosity. I wondered why she hadn't ever told me that she dated a black man. I confronted her about it and she confessed that she never thought it was important. And of course, it shouldn't have been important, yet for some reason, the thought of it nagged in the back of my mind—a small little voice that would pop up from time to time to remind me that my wife had dated a black man. However, I wasn't racist. It wasn't the color per se that bothered me. It was more or less the idea that "once you go black you never go back."

  I secretly became obsessive over Deacon and Naomi's love life. I couldn't help but wonder how big his cock was and how much he had pleasured her with it. Obviously, due to stereotypes I had been subjected to throughout my life, I had automatically assumed that Deacon had an anaconda for a dick. No doubt it was better in every way: thicker, longer, with a big bulbous head. And of course, Deacon was a masterful lover who did everything better than I could.

  I simply couldn't stop these thoughts once they took root. Deacon was a god, and I was a pathetic little thing that couldn't even please his wife. I couldn't help but wonder if she fantasized about him when we were making love. Or worse, did she secretly masturbate to thoughts of Deacon's big black cock impaling her little pink pussy? Almost daily I drove myself to distraction wondering about her old love life.

  At first, Naomi was clueless about my new obsession, even after I began questioning her about her time with Deacon. To her credit, she was truthful to a fault, assuming I was secure enough in our marriage to handle the truth. Almost everything that I had imagined was true. Deacon really did have a large cock and he was one of the best lovers she'd ever had. Naturally, she included me in that category, but I felt like she had to because I was her husband and she didn't want to hurt my feelings. I had convinced myself that he was the absolute best and there was no way on earth I could compare to him.

  One night as we lay in bed, I started thinking about them and though there was jealousy settling in the pit of my stomach, there was a stronger feeling seizing control of my cock. I was actually aroused by the thought of them together, with his big black cock snug in her tiny little cunt. I could imagine it so easily, with Deacon stretched out on his dorm bed and Naomi straddling his big thick thighs, inching her way up his body until she was sliding down onto his massive erection. I could see it so clearly—that moment that she felt the tip of his dick penetrating her tiny little hole. I imagined her soft little moans, and how she would rub her stiff nipples while she would bounce on his cock.

  I tried to push the erotic images from my thoughts but they had entwined themselves so deeply into my consciousness that I couldn't think of anything but the two of them having sex. My cock was throbbing and hard as steel as the naughty images played out. I was equal parts jealous, conflicted, and aroused. I knew I shouldn't be getting a boner while I thought of my wife and another man, but the idea of her being fucked so thoroughly incinerated every normal craving and desire I had ever had.

  "Can I ask you something?" I whispered in the dark.

  "Of course," Naomi said as she rolled over onto her side. Her dark brown hair spilled across her shoulder.

  "If you had the chance to sleep with Deacon again without it affecting our marriage... would you?"

  Her brow rose, "Where is this coming from?" Her tone hinted at her concern. She stretched her hand out and delicately caressed my arm.

  I hesitated, then said, "I don't know. Ever since I found out he was black, I haven't been able to get it out of my mind. It consumes me."

  Her laughter was throaty and sensual, "You're thinking about Deacon and I having sex?"

  "Yeah. A lot, actually," I softly admitted, grateful that the room was dark enough to hide my flushed cheeks. It wasn't the easiest thing to confess.

  "Why?" she asked as her fingers lightly traced over my biceps.

  "I don't know. I think because I have this fear that he is better than me in every way. I can't keep wondering why you would even marry me when you could have someone like him?"

  "Because I love you," she said simply, followed by a chuckle, obviously amused by my jealousy. "Jack, you shouldn't be insecure. He isn't better than you. Sure, he has a big cock, but that doesn't make him a better person. You're a successful lawyer. You have given me everything I could ever want. You're handsome, thoughtful, and kind. You make me laugh. We have a great relationship."

  "Be that as it may, he has a bigger dick," I pointed out, unable to drop it.

  She playfully punched my arm. "Fine, whatever, he has a bigger dick. That doesn't make yours small."

  "But, he went deeper inside of you, filled you better," I countered.

  She gave a frustrated sigh, "Oh come on, I don't compare myself to your exes. I mean, I could get all jealous of Missy Fitzgerald. She was the epitome of every man's dream: tall and leggy, blonde, and had big bouncing tits."

  "You are better than her in every way, sweetheart." I kissed her forehead. "It is like comparing apples and oranges."

  "No, it isn't," she said as she shimmied across the mattress and climbed on top of me. She pushed my hands above my head and held my wrists together while she pressed her lips to mine. Her tongue was warm and insistent as she licked the crease of my lips, then pushed into my mouth.

  I loved it when she became the aggressor. Naomi had a dominating side that melted me. "Mmm, what is this?" she asked as she ground her crotch against mine. "You're hard! I've never felt you so hard."

  "But you like it..." I lapped at her bottom lip.

  "I do, but I'm curious..." her voice faltered as she took a second to think things through. Her brows shot up, "Hey! Did you get hard thinking about me and Deacon fucking?"

  My cheeks burned with humiliation. I didn't want to tell her, but at the same time, I couldn't lie to my wife. We trusted one another one-hundred percent, and I wouldn't change that for anything in the world, even if it meant confessing my darkest desire. "Yeah..."

  She rubbed herself harder against me, forcing my cock to mash against her folds through our undies. "The idea of Deacon's cock inside of me excites you?"

  "I'm sorry..." I whispered my apology as my eyes dropped. I couldn't look her in the face. Shame heated my cheeks.

  Her hips wiggled suggestively, "I don't mind." She slid a hand beneath my boxers and gave my cock a long stroke. "If you want to use my past as mental porn that is okay with me."

  I relaxed, feeling better that she was taking it so well. "But I feel horrible."

  "Why? You can't help what you desire. It isn't a conscious decision. It is something inside of you. If it gets you off to think about me and another
man, then I think that is hot." She licked my chin and lips with one long sweep of her tongue.

  "You're sure?" Excitement coursed through me at her permission to think about them together.

  "Mmmhmm. So, tell me your fantasy," she commanded as she gave my cock attention, jerking her hand across my sensitive shaft.

  The sensations were overwhelming, causing my body to tremor with need. "My fantasy is to watch you and Deacon. I want to watch you being pleasured by his black cock, tongue, and strong hands. I want to see your tight little pussy stretched by his dick, and I want to hear those sweet little moans you make when you cum."

  "You want to hear me cum?" she asked throatily.

  "Yes. I want to hear you cum while his big black cock is thrusting deep inside of you." My voice was raspy, strained from pleasure.

  "Mmm, you want to watch me fuck Deacon? You want to watch as another man fills my pussy with his cum?" She forced my boxers down, then maneuvered herself so that she was poised over my erection. She rubbed the head with her soft wet folds.

  "More than anything," I confessed as my entire body ached with anticipation, waiting for that moment that she would sink down onto my cock. I could feel it pulsing with need.

  "I can make that happen," she said as she lowered herself, taking my inches slowly into her womanly depths. She leaned forward and placed her hands on my shoulders.

  A thrill of desire snaked its way through my entire body at the possibility of Deacon fucking my wife becoming real. I wasn't sure if she was saying that she was game for the idea or merely voicing my fantasies in the heat of the moment. Either way, I was more aroused than I had ever been. "Yeah?" I asked as I thrust my hips upwards, trying to impale her as deeply as I could, to reach depths that Deacon had claimed. "You would fuck him again just for me?"

  Her voice was breathy and beautiful. "It would be for the both of us. I would do it because you find it hot, but I would find it hot, too. I would love to have that huge black cock inside of me again," she muttered with longing.

  I sucked in my breath, feeling overwhelmed for the briefest of moments. I had thought my wife would look upon my secret fantasy with disgust, but instead, she embraced it. It was like winning the lottery. "When?" I asked with anticipation.

  She bounced, her slender hips fluttering up and down as she rode my cock. "Soon. I will call him tomorrow and set up a date."

  I closed my eyes as she pressed her lips to mine. In the fantasy that played through my mind, Naomi was getting her pussy pounded by Deacon while I sucked on her rosy nipples. As we kissed, I imagined kissing her while Deacon claimed her tight little body.

  Naomi broke the kiss and erotically whispered against my mouth, "Will you clean up after we fuck? Will you lick away our cum?"

  Oh, fuck! I hadn't taken it that far in my fantasies. I hadn't allowed my thoughts to drift into humiliation. I had thought it was humiliating enough sharing her, but being forced to participate in such an act did two things at once: shock the hell out of me, and made me orgasm harder and more powerfully than I ever had in my entire life. It was beyond mind-blowing. I felt as if I had been shattered into a million pieces. My body trembled as I filled Naomi's pussy with gobs of creamy white cum.

  After my wife's orgasm, she rolled off of me and stretched like a lioness beside me. Her hair fanned across the pillow and her body shimmered from sweat. She was breathtaking, and I knew in that moment that I was the luckiest man in the world.

  "We can practice now," she said with a smirk as she stroked her fingers through my mussed-up hair.

  "W-what do you mean?" I stammered, still caught up in a sexual fog. My thoughts were scattered and unfocused and my heart was still racing as I was coming down from the after waves of my orgasm.

  "We should see if you're truly ready to be introduced into the lifestyle."

  "How do you even know about all of this stuff?" I asked with trepidation as my heart skipped out of rhythm.

  "From college. Deacon had a roommate who was into humiliation and being dominated. After we had sex, Deacon made his roommate clean us up with his tongue. He'd have to lick me clean, then clean Deacon's cock."

  "Are you joking?"

  "No. Not at all. It was his thing."

  "Was he gay?" I asked.

  "No. It isn't about being gay. It is about submitting," she explained.

  "What did you get out of it?"

  "Mmm, well. He licked pussy like no other man. And, it was intoxicating being in bed with two men at a time, even if Deacon was dominating him."

  My head reeled. I was jealous that this stranger that I never even knew existed had licked my wife's pussy better than I could. She was a different person all of a sudden. Apparently, my sweet, innocent wife was anything but. "I have so many questions."

  "Mmm, I will answer them all after you get down there and clean me up," she said smugly.

  I had never tasted my own cum before. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of being "forced" to taste it now. "Naomi... I don't know about that."

  She gave me a lopsided grin, "Whyever not? I swallow your cum all of the time." Her fingers curled in my hair as she gave my head a little push. "Or are you scared?" Her tone was taunting.

  "I'll do it," I said as I crawled between her legs. I rubbed my hands along her inner thighs, admiring how pretty she was stretched out, her smile languid with the hint of a smirk. She had that just-been-fucked expression. "You're beautiful, by the way."

  "That's what Deacon always said before he licked my pussy. Let's hope he still feels the same," she teased as she looked me in the eye. "I'm going to call him in the morning and ask him to come over. I'm going to tell him I have a new puppy for him to play with."

  "Puppy?"

  "You, darling. He is a bull. You are a puppy."

  "Oh..." I looked at her sheepishly as I ran my finger through her cum-sodden pussy lips. I was hesitating as I played with her clit, rubbing it between my fingers. She squealed with delight and writhed on the mattress.

  "Lick me," she said with a hint of command. "You made this mess, you'll clean it up."

  "Okay," I whispered the word as I lowered my head and inhaled the heady scent of our mixed orgasms. Gathering my courage, I lapped my tongue through the sticky mixture. It tasted salty and strange, and I couldn't believe that I was actually eating cum.

  "Mmm, that feels so good." She patted the top of my head, then stroked her fingers affectionately through my hair. "You're so good at that." Her voice had a husky undercurrent to it.

  "I only want to please you," I said as I wiggled my tongue up and down her folds, taking my time and hitting all the right spots.

  "You do! Omigod, you do. That feels amazing," she cooed affectionately.

  I reveled under her praise and soaked it up like a puppy rewarded for doing a new trick. The puppy phrase suddenly made sense to me. "You like how I lick you?" I asked in between long strokes of my tongue.

  "Mmmhmm. You're making me feel tingly all over." She stroked my hair again. "Keep doing that and I will cum again."

  I desperately wanted to make her orgasm again. I lapped at her pussy eagerly, mashing my face against her wetness and twirling it around her clit. I used my fingers, pistoning them in and out as I licked her pussy clean. My tongue was everywhere at once. I licked her from top to bottom while using my fingers to tease and pleasure.

  I licked her like a man starving for her sweet nectar.

  "Oh, oh, oh!" she moaned the words. "I am going to cum!"

  I intensified the pressure and pumped my fingers quicker, hoping to push her over the edge once more.

  "Jack!" she called out my name as her body tensed, then trembled with force. She shuddered as she fisted her fingers in my hair, holding my head in place as she orgasmed against my face.

  Inhaling a deep breath, she pushed my head away, "Okay, okay, sensitive now," she said with a soft giggle. "Damn, that was intense."

  I grinned proudly as I stretched out beside of her.

  "Okay
. I'm ready to answer your questions," she said indulgently.

  "Why haven't you ever told me about Deacon or his roommate before?"

  "I didn't know you'd be interested. I thought you wanted vanilla sex."

  "I thought that's what you wanted." I countered.

  She licked her lower lip thoughtfully. "I don't know. I think I was more sexually adventurous than you had ever been. I didn't want to scare you off... I was just following your lead."

  "So, I haven't really satisfied you..." I stated softly, suddenly afraid that our entire sex life had been a lie.

  "Oh! You have! What we have is really good, Jack."

  "But it could be better."

  "It could be different."

  I hesitated before asking, "So. As a puppy... what would I do?"

  Her luminous eyes lit with mischief. "Anything the bull says. If you agree to partake in that kind of lifestyle, you have to surrender yourself completely to the sexual whims of another person."

  "And if I just want to watch you with another?"

  "Then we don't call Deacon," she chuckled. "He dominates--he takes whatever he wants. He pushes your boundaries and makes you experience your sexuality in a whole new way."

  "But, I'm not gay," I protested.

  "I didn't say you were. There's a difference, you know."

  "How do you mean?" I was finding it hard to understand. In my mind, if you fooled around with a dude, you were gay, bottom line. But, apparently, my wife saw it differently. Maybe it was?

  "I think being gay means that you find the same sex attractive. That you're lusting after them physically, that you want relationships with them, et ceterae. But what we did with his roommate, that was different."

  "I just don't understand."

  "Look at it this way. If I blindfolded you and tied your hands together, then had someone suck your cock, you wouldn't know if it was male or female, right?"

  "Right."

  "You'd find the act sexually satisfying, despite who was doing it. That doesn't make you gay."

  "That makes sense, I guess," I conceded.

  "So it wouldn't be gay if you cleaned up after he came all over my pussy. Just part of the fun, really. Part of the experience."