Who’s the bull?

His left knee was in the center of my chest
His right an inch from my ear
I was pinned,
spent and limp

He’d taken me down
made me confess
“Yes sir. You’re her bull.”

but before that, while pinning me face down he growled
“cum in the rug, cuck. Rub your little cock in the rug until you cum so you got nothing while I take your wife.”

And I did. I shot as he hissed the words in my ear. I came fast.

Now the pressure in my chest from his knee hurt.
He leaned down
“See how my balls have swelled,
how full they are?”
I could smell
his musky locker room ball sweat
and see how heavy they weighed
in their sack, and how his cock
dangled but thickened
as he spoke.

“Why do you think they’re so full cuck?”

I looked at my wife sitting on the edge
of the bed,
white sleeveless tee shirt
nipples saluting
naked below the waist
legs parted
flashing us her cunt,
her bare cunt
waxed smooth
just the day before
full of a dew he’d fertilize soon
a mixture they’d make and make me taste.

“For her.” I whispered.

he lifted his knee from my chest and turned to her.

Her face flush, eyes sparkled as she leaned towards him reaching for his cock that stood up like a limb of the great tree of life.

Gulping in anticipation, her voice thin but loud enough to make sure I heard, she said.

“There’s no doubt who’s the bull in this room.”