Third Fuck with Rough Bull

The first splash hit Danny's face, then a forceful stream ran down the navy blue and black-striped tie resting like a ribbon of night on the white cotton shirt. Glen spread his legs in the door of the stall and directed the flow from his semi-rigid cock. Danny owned a rack of silk ties in colours and designs to complement his tailor-made suits. Huddled against the marble wall under the shower head, Danny pulled his knees up as urine saturated his shirt and tie, followed by a drenching of the fine-wool fibres of the suit jacket. Glen had allowed him to remove his Italian shoes, but not his socks which matched the tie. He told Danny to lower his knees while he pissed over the silver belt buckle and the lawyer's groin. He could see the cuck's pathetic dick become hard beneath the cloth and had forgotten to bring the cock cage he wanted Danny to wear. A steal enclosure which would prevent the cuck from using his dick for any purpose except to piss. Next time.

For now, the cuck had to endure his bull's hot piss and could do nothing to ward off the torrent. His arms were shackled behind his back. It didn't look to Glen that Danny objected;in fact the glittering look in the bitch's eyes, and the moans of pleasure proved that it wanted more and more. Glen directed the still strong stream once more at the cuck's face. This was supposed to be his punishment for touching his bull the during the previous fuck session with Kim, Danny's wife. The cuck had dared to leave his position in the corner to touch the bull who was fucking the wife, now the bull's private cunt. So Glen had no option but to punish Danny, but the eyes and the willing posture of the body told a different story. Was it punishment if the cuck enjoyed it?

Glen had been saving his piss for this moment, not even going when he woke up before arriving at their condo. As instructed, Dan greeted him at the door, eyes down, and submissively led his master Bull to the washroom. Kim, the wife, was still in bed, naked, also as instructed. He'd fuck her after finishing the piss job on her husband. Danny crawled into the shower covered with Italian ceramic tile and raised his head to allow Glen to insert the steel mouth speculum, forcing the mouth open. Danny couldn't shut his mouth even he wanted to and it didn't look to Glen that he wanted to do. Then he ordered Danny to put his arms behind his back and shackled them together with leather wrist-cuffs. He stepped back to enjoy the picture of a well-suited, submissive husband at the mercy of his soldier bull, who deserved to be punished for daring to act without permission.

"Swallow, pussyboy," he commanded.

He obeyed instantly and leaned towards the end of the golden stream as it streamed into the mouth kept wide open by the steel speculum, splashing against his lips, rolling over his eager tongue. But his bull's piss bubbled faster out of Danny's mouth then he could swallow, and soaked his Van dyke beard. Glen thought of ordering him him to shave it off one day, but not before he saw his cum soaked in the beard. So far Dan hadn't sucked him off. The cuck wanted to and needed, Glen understood that, but it was important to keep the cuck simmering and lusting and begging. It needed to understand that his bull decided when and how to fuck him, not the cuck. Danny choked on the piss swilling in his throat, spluttered, tossing his head back as if to allow it flow down, even as Glen showered his face with some of the hot liquid.

The cuck's eyes closed, his entire body trembling in a kind of private ecstasy, he he tried to swallow as much piss as Glen aimed expertly through the middle of the speculum bound mouth and down his throat.

"You pathetic pig, drink it, show me how much you love me, bitch," the bull soldier shouted, according to the cuck's need to hear his commanding abuse. His bladder finally drained, Glen zipped up, and lit a cigarette in a luxury condo where no one ever smoked.

After blowing smoke into the stall, the smell of strong tobacco mingling with the stench of fresh urine, Glen dredged up a gob of spit, aimed it at Simon's still speculum-controlled open mouth. A few drops splattered his lips and chin, but most of the gob coated Danny's tongue. Bull Glen sat on the toilet. The fabric of his fatigues tightened over muscular thighs. Danny shivered on the shower floor, nodded his head like a pony, his hands still shackled behind his back, his tie and jacket saturated. Standing quickly, the soldier smiled over the sheen of his black boots, which Danny had caressed and polished with his tongue during the last session.

What you ate affected the smell and taste of piss and semen, so he avoided cabbage and asparagus. Having wolfed down a tin of ravioli for lunch before arriving at the condo, combined with two bottles of beer, he wondered if Danny tasted tomato sauce and hops even as the odour of urine long exposed to the air intensified. He stood and paused above the lawyer, spitting again into the mouth, wrinkling his nose against the smell until he had dragged the life out of the cigarette, then flicked the ash into the cuck's mouth. Like the bull's saliva, it also spread on Danny's tongue.

"Suck it back, pussyboy. You'll stay here until I let you out. Time to fuck the other cunt, your wife."

Danny shivered in the stall as the piss cooled and soaked through his shirt to his skin. He tasted ash on his tongue and didn't realize how much he wanted the bull to manhandle and degrade him until this morning's piss shower as punishment. Except he didn't feel it as punishment for touching the bull last time without permission, but a weird kind of gift, the gift of his bull's bodily fluids and verbal attention and intimidation which aroused his cock to a hardness it seldom reached. What was real punishment, however, was not being allowed to watch bull Glen fuck his wife. That was torture. Not being allowed in the same room as bull Glen's huge cock rammed its way up Kim's wet cunt or hot ass or down her own hungry throat, as hungry as his own. That was torture. He'd hear them in the other room when the fucking began because she sometimes screamed in ecstasy, and tears of longing filled his eyes as he remained, properly obedient, on the floor of the shower.

In the galley kitchen gleaming with granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances, Glen searched the double-door fridge for another beer. Kim was supposed to be home by now as the couple had agreed to take time off work for fun. Glen struck a match along the corrugated sole of his military boot to light another cigarette while he waited. He could do anything he wanted with the lawyer, and he had every intention of pushing boundaries. What he wanted now was to fuck the cuck's wife fast and hard. She knew he was impatient and easily annoyed as the so-called punishment of her husband testified.

He suspected Kim delayed on purpose, his anger adding to her excitement. After drinking more beer, he'd probably have to relieve himself. He'd shower the cuck again, maybe make him strip in the tub, or lie down fully-dressed on the white Berber carpet of the living room where he now stood exhaling smoke. Make Danny strip and spread himself like a flagellant before the altar on the beautiful rug; make him say a few worshipful words to his Bull who would then spray liquid gold over the naked body while Kim protested. He liked the idea of flogging his pussy boy, maybe the wife, too, since flogging brought it home how much they now belonged to their bull, and how necessary it was for their own happiness to obey his every wish. When he pissed on the carpet, he might have to bind her like a prisoner to prevent interference. She would like that, probably expect it, even if she lamented over her fine furnishings. They could pay to have the rug cleaned.

Lighting another cigarette from a new pack the lawyer had bought, bull Glen stood in front of the expansive window and stared at the city lightly dusted with recent snow. The temperature was exactly 30 degrees Fahrenheit. It was too cold to stand long outside without a coat. But he imagined boning the bitch in the chill night, and his cock stirred at the thought. A quick rough fuck in the cold. Then bring her back in for a beer and a piss party in the washroom, maybe.

Glen heard the front door to the condo open. Was it time to give Danny permission to move? Lead Kim into the washroom? Get her on all fours by the toilet and plough her cunt while Danny watched his Bull in action? Depriving him of the pleasure of seeing her wife get fucked by her bull would only add to the punishment, more painful for the cocksucker even than pissing on or whipping him. A couple of hours had passed already since his arrival. Preliminary play with the cuck had taken up most of the time. Drenching the pig had only lasted seconds. Glen gulped the beer down. He wanted his bladder full.

Before Kim touched his back on the balcony, he smelled her perfume. When she pressed against him, Bull Glen flinched. Her arms reached around his chest, her faux fur coat sleeves bristling with static electricity. His leaned against the railing and spat. He would humiliate Danny again while Kim watched. He grabbed her hands to prevent them from rubbing his nipples.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, bitch, just don't. Get me a beer."

His cock was pulsing hard, heavily veined, bulging cum-leaking head, a cocksucker's dream. Kim returned with a beer. He wondered about the height of the balcony to the waterless fountain almost directly below. Glen rubbed Kim's neck, her body relaxed. She stepped closer while he guzzled down half the bottle. He took a swig of the beer, put the bottle down, then grabbed her shoulder, spun her around on the balcony and kissed her, his tongue driven to the back of her throat, his unshaven cheeks abrading her smooth skin. Slipping his arms under her coat, he lifted Kim onto the railing.

"What the ... what are you doing?"

Holding her tight with one arm, the big Bull raised her left leg around his waist, secured her close to his chest, and fingered under her dress. She struggled to break free, but he leaned her backwards over the railing, pushing three fingers up her snatch. Her scream Glen interpreted as encouragement, not protest. She was trapped by her own excitement over being precariously balanced on the balustrade. If her bull let go of her waist, she'd somersault over and plummet several floors. Removing his wet fingers, and with the prestidigitation of a magician, he directed and rammed his big bull cock into her receptive, shivering body.

She moaned out loud, almost screamed. If anyone in the neighboring condo had stepped out on to their balcony, they would have seen the soldier bull fucking a woman on the railing. He picked up speed, his entire body one massive muscled fuck engine, Kim shaking but secured on the railing by his arm.

If a traffic helicopter pilot flew overhead, the reporter would see a woman hunched over a balcony railing in a brown fur coat, hanging onto to a soldier who, despite the chill, wore only a green army-issue T-shirt and fatigues. Glen, working up a sweat as he pummeled the cunt in the chill air, tightened his hold on Kim who groaned and clung to his neck, both legs cinched so tightly around his waist that she'd hurtle over the railing with him firmly locked between her thighs, if he didn't maintain control. He had never felt his cock feel so huge in a cunt, so fucking bullish and raging and expanding against the soft flesh as it barged its way to the womb itself, ready to deposit a monster load of bull cum in the deepest part of his bitch.

"Oh, please," Manon's voice scarcely audible, he couldn't tell if she was begging for her life or for his cock. He kept up a steady and riveting thrust. Her fur coat dropped off her shoulders and hung like a bear skin draped over the railing, her red hair coming loose from its pins. A traffic helicopter hovered over head. She clung to his body as her bull jack- hammered her pussy, sweat dribbling down the back of his neck even in the cold. He slammed into the cunt, his cum rampaging into her womb, pulsing through the shaft of his soldier's cock and exploding like fuck bullets shooting into the depths of her body. Then she screamed when he let go. Her legs slipping away from his waist, her upper body began falling backwards, but Glen pulled her up and off the railing and onto his explosive cock. He finished the hard fuck with three upward thrusts, cum squirting out between his shaft and her pussy lips, dribbling down his own heavy balls. Eventually he'd let his pussyboy lick up the cum from her legs and the floor, maybe suck it out of her cunt, or even his cock or her ass when the time came, but he needed to be a very good little cunt to earn such great rewards, the pleasure of bull cum on his tongue and in his own belly. First things first. The soldier bull lifted his cuck's wife off her feet which kicked over a stand of dead plants in ceramic pots. They cracked on the concrete. The chopper lurked upward, swerving to the right.

Kim had gasped out loud when her body tightened, electrified by a jolting climax that even streaked through her bull's cock and into his nuts. Then she went limp and silent, and panted in his embrace.

"Oh, please, don't leave me, I'll do anything," Kim whispered in his shoulder, her body suddenly slack and soft, and always needy. Just like her husband waiting in the stall. That disobedient cocksucker pussyboy still needed a lesson. Glen's cock rose as if ready to fuck again at the mere thought of flogging the lawyer, his cuck bitch. There were so many things he planned on doing; so many things they didn't even know they yearned for. He now owned them. The cuck didn't even need a cock anymore. The wind picked up. Glen shivered, his semi-erect bullcock still exposed. He opened the door and gently pushed the wife inside, her coat falling to the floor where it lay like a dead animal. She looked longingly at her bull, unsteady on her feet, waiting for his words, as if she existed only for his pleasure and purposes.

"Get me another beer, cunt. Bring it to the washroom. Hubby's waiting like a good boy. We're not done yet."