First Fuck with Rough Bull

So Glen entered the kitchen through the garage door and as instructed she was on her hands and knees, completely naked. Without removing his leather bomber jacket or army boots, he simply knelt behind her, unzipped and plunged his hard cock into her wet cunt, labial lips already swollen and glistening from the fingering he had ordered her to do before he arrived. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, and leaning over her back he fucked, not saying a word. He wrapped an arm around her neck and pushed her flat on the floor and still fucked her from behind. He told the husband to sit on a kitchen chair in front of her and watch her face, her eyes, and listen to her moaning as she got fucked by a soldier, rape-fucked by a soldier, the realization of her fantasy played out when her husband, who could not satisfy her, was forced to watch.

While boning her, Glen ordered her to tell her husband what she was: "I'm your fuckmeat. I'm your private cunt, your pussy pet, i want your cock, I want you to fuck me, yes, fuck, fuck your little slut bitch slave, fuck me like a slut." Glen fucked her while he was fully clothed, except he had pulled his fatigues below his knees, and the piece of married fuckmeat was naked on the floor panting and moaning, all the while her eyes blazing directly at her husband although he didn't think she was in a full state of consciousness. The husband's own cock was getting hard and it wanted to fuck her face but dared not without the soldier's permission.

Glen suddenly pulled out and dug into her cunt with the fingers of his right hand, pushing them all in, and slowly fist-fucked her until she cried for mercy, and tears of pain-pleasure spurted out her eyes, her mouth wide open. He withdrew his soaking hand and made her lick her juices off his fist. Then he rolled over on the floor and told her to suck his dick, still hard and glistening wet from her cunt gushing all over it, and she buried her head in his groin, slurping and moaning, her body writhing. The husband wanted so badly to fuck her but wasn't allowed to. Glen pushed her away and ordered to straddle him, one leg on either side of his waist, her knees resting on his open bomber jacket, his hands digging into her thighs, as she lowered herself on his huge dick, her eyes glazed open, bucking up and down as she jiggled and wiggled on his cock. The husband was still wearing his clothes, his cock hard as all fuck and straining under his pants. He asked: please, Sir, may I fuck her, too?

But Glen didn't at that time give permission. Only to watch and do what he was told.

Her fantasy, her craving, was to be treated like a bitch slave, to submit to an alpha soldier and fulfill her masochistic fantasies, she trusted Glen because he was safe, discreet, and knew how to realize her deepest darkest desires. She wanted a brutal edge to it all, wanted her bull to pummel and fuck her into submission and to come to the hard thrusting of a soldier's big cock. And Glen had a big cock, thicker than her wrist and longer enough to push into her womb.

Later, after giving her a rest, while he stood against the counter, drinking a beer he got from the fridge, and staring at both husband and wife until he was ready, Glen boned her against the kitchen table (her back was on the table, her legs around his waist, his fatigues down to his ankles and piled over his military boots). She moaned and screamed as he gave the bitch one last shove and pulled out, his cock squirting out a shower of man juice all over her husband's face and shirt. The husband gasped and stuck out his tongue, trying to capture droplets of bull cum. Glen exploded spunk and wanted to fuck again, an effect middle-aged married women often had on him. His cum shot out in powerful streams. Especially if they were rich dissatisfied bitches hankering after a real man and craved some rough action. The wife and husband would do anything Glen wanted; he understood that. Look at the guy gathering spunk on his fingers and licking them off. This first session gave him all the info he needed. Glen stirred, his cock still resting on the vaginal lips soaked with cum. He wiped himself with a tea towel covered with a picture of Prince William and Kate. "Don't forget to put this in the laundry." He rubbed it against her husband's. Then he lifted her off the counter and sat her over his lap on a chair, so close to the husband that he could see his cock hard beneath his pants, and slap his face without moving from his position, if he wanted to. Not yet. Not too much too soon. The wife's head hung towards the floor, her fine ass ready for use.

"What she wants is what the cunt gets," Glen had explained to the husband when they had met at the restaurant a while back, Glen having answered the husband's online ad for a bull to fulfill his wife's fantasies, and his, and to fuck his wife while he watched. A rough kind of no nonsense soldier preferred, the ad had specified. They didn't want romance.

"She wants rough play, and she gets it. I never do what a cunt doesn't want. But I can make them want what they didn't even know they wanted, if you get my meaning." And the husband had also said something about serving, eventually, when he got used to the idea. Glen knew that day would come sooner than later, a real man's cock hammers judging by the hard dick in the husband's pants and by his open mouth and begging voice as he watched his wife. One day the husband would suck him dry in front of the wife, and become his obedient, cock sucking cuck, but first things first.

"Now this little cunt wants the slap of a hand on her ass. So I oblige. '

And he began slapping her ass hard in the kitchen, four stinging reddening smacks. She moaned aloud.

"It's interesting, really, how slapping a firm ass makes the pussy get wetter and wetter until my bitch cunt is moaning and begging for a fuck. Sure, the hand gets a little sore, but what a beauty those red cheeks are, and how easily the fingers slip in her cunt. The good part about spanking is that it lubricates the vagina so my hand can slide in and out easily without causing pain, but she sure feels my fist fucking her. See?"

And he inserted all five fingers in her widening cunt, in and out, staring at the husband all along.

"It's a pleasure to fist fuck a pussy and hear all that deep breathing and panting and moaning and feel her body buck up to the wrist deep inside her cunt."

She was begging him to stop in a voice thick with lust, which meant she was begging for more. Glen pulled the hand out, raised it to show the husband how wet it was, then leaning over his wife's sweating and heated body draped over his knees, he put his hand in front of the husband's mouth and allowed him to lick her juices off the fingers, practically gobbling as if inflamed by the taste of her bull. His bull, too. Then Glen returned his attention to his wife and probed her pussy with his fingers and said that it belonged to him, just like her mouth belonged to him, and she was his property, all of her, her cunt and ass and mouth were his personal property. All her holes would be used by his bull cock.

"Aren't they, bitch?"

He made her nod her head in agreement. Ecstasy burned in her eyes, the glow of her body from intense satisfaction and release. Her husband could smell her lust, or was it his?

"See, she likes it, needs it. Just the way you like and need, don't you?"

And he was speaking directly at the husband, panting on the kitchen chair, sitting so close to his bull that he could smell the musky odour of fuck sweat and see a stream of cum still leaking out of his wife's cunt.

"aah ...mmm...I mean yes, yes..."

"Yes, what, cocksucker?"

And Glen gave a great wallop to the wife's ass. She screamed out.

"Yes, Sir, yes, please, Sir."