[MF] The unintentional bull, or, how I’ve spent the last five years fucking other men’s wives (Part I — first time with Molly)

With plenty of time on my hands during this seemingly endless pandemic, I’ve been recalling many of my past experiences as a bull, and just started writing them down for some reason. I figured this subreddit would find them interesting. At the outset, let me declare that, at root, I am a man with fairly conventional ideas about relationships. I’ve never been married, but have always wanted to be, and have spent a good chunk of early my life in committed monogam-ish relationships. I’m a pretty unremarkable Yuppie-type, with a good job, my own home, and some rather ordinary hobbies and personal interests. All of which is why it’s odd for me to confess that I’ve spent the last five years ruthlessly fucking other men’s wives. I find the term “bull” very off-putting — seriously, we can’t come up with something better? — but have to conclude that it indisputably applies to me.

It all began with Molly. She was someone I dated years ago, when I was in my early 20s and she was, well, barely legal. It was an odd, transitional time in both of our lives, and while we weren’t a good fit in a lot of ways, our sexual chemistry was electric. I had more experience than she did, and I think she discovered with me what sex between two similarly-minded people (with similar kinks) could be. Once we started having sex, we fucked ALL the time, as often as we could, multiple times per day, and it was hot as hell every single time. It probably helped that we were both youthful, and also probably helped that we both knew it was a temporary kind of relationship. And it certainly helped me that she had the flawless skin and outrageous body of a Playboy model — she was petite, toned, and trim, but with jaw-droppingly gorgeous triple-D tits. (She’d be upvoted to the top — pun intended — in [u/BustyPetite](https://www.reddit.com/user/BustyPetite).)

It fizzled, of course, and we both went our separate ways. We both kept tabs on each other through mutual acquaintances, but didn’t specifically keep in touch. She ended up marrying a seemingly nice man who already had two boys from a previous marriage, and then they ended up having a little girl together. (Lord, what I’d give to have fucked her when she was pregnant.) Not long after that, however, she was diagnosed with some kind of disease which, while not immediately life-threatening, required consistent ongoing treatment and put her at increased risk of a whole host of other potentially-fatal conditions. Pretty rotten. I suppose, then, that I shouldn’t have been surprised when she texted me completely out of the blue about a year later. She mentioned that she was going to be visiting my city in a few weeks, and asked whether I’d like to get together for lunch.

I was curious about her motivation, but agreed and met her for lunch. Despite what she described as a rough course of treatment, she was as stunning as I’d remembered — arguably even more so, since, as she put it, “all the baby weight and steroids went straight to her tits.” She wasn’t lying — her tits had swelled from impressively large DDDs to (what I later confirmed) were positively enormous F-cups. And the fact that she so obviously drew my attention to them (and wore a top that emphasized them) led me to suspect she hadn’t asked me to lunch just to catch up with an old friend. As we ate, in fact, she began dropping subtle hints about her marriage — to wit, her lack of sexual enthusiasm about it — that ultimately culminated in her looking me square in the eye and declaring “you are still the best sex I’ve ever had.” At that point, I had a solid suspicion about what the next topic would be, and sure enough, she eventually came out with a direct proposal that, if I was up for it, we could have sex if and when I wanted to. “I have no certainty about my future,” she said, understandably, “and don’t want to feel like I should have done more things I wanted to.”

Her candor and directness was attractive, as was the fact that she wasn’t pushy, but my immediate reaction was to ask if her husband knew or approved of her proposal. She responded, again matter-of-factly, that he had given her permission to pursue extramarital sex, so long as she was safe, didn’t tell him who it was, and didn’t offer any details unless he asked. (Clearly not one of you horndogs who’d want to hear all about a hotwife’s adventures.) To say I was dumbfounded is an understatement, but I could not deny being intrigued at the idea. I likewise could not ignore the stirring of my cock in my trousers as my busty former fuckbuddy stared me square in the eye and said: “I trust you and really, *really* want you to fuck me again. I understand if you can’t or don’t want to, or want to think about it, but you’re the only one I trust and want for this.” I could barely process what was happening, and wondered if it was all some kind of weird dream or law enforcement sting operation. (Coincidentally, her husband works in the high levels of law enforcement.) I told her I had to think about it and suggested we pay our bill and take a walk in the park nearby.

It was a beautiful early summer day, with bright sun that wasn’t too hot, and she looked positively stunning in some kind of flouncy skirt and that fitted top that accentuated the prodigious curves of her tits. We walked and chatted amiably, almost as if she was not married and had not proposed that we fuck barely 20 minutes earlier. Her flirtation skills had not waned in the time she’d been married, though, as she managed to find the right ways to subtly touch me and hint at the sex she wanted to have without being pushy. My mind was spinning, however, barely able to process what was going on — someone I hadn’t seen in over a decade had suddenly reappeared and, despite being married, had all but begged me to fuck her. I had never imagined myself as the kind of man who might ever be in — let alone into — a situation like this, but the more we walked and the closer she got to me, the less I cared about what it all might mean until finally, almost autonomically, I stopped in my tracks, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into me for a long, deep kiss.

Her soft lips felt every bit as good on mine as I’d remembered, and, as our tongues began mingling, we locked into passionate making out right in the middle of a city park. She melted herself into me as we kissed, pressing her huge soft tits into my chest as she clutched at my back and moaned softly. Almost involuntarily, too, she nudged her hips forward into me, in a not so subtle-signal of where her real ache was. We stayed kissing like that for a few moments, until I broke off to catch my breath — exhaling deeply, I looked her square in the eye and said “my place isn’t far and we can go there right now.” Breathing shallowly herself, she bit her lower lip, nodded, and then whispered “God, yes.” With that, we turned in the direction of my house and began walking — hand in hand — as quickly and purposefully as we could without sprinting.

Ten minutes later, we burst through my front door, barely shutting it behind us before attacking each other again right in the entryway, lips and hands and bodies smashed together. Now in private, my hands roamed all over her curves, one firmly on her back, the other snaking down onto her thigh, up and under her skirt and onto her firm round ass covered by some kind of lacy half-thong underwear. She moaned softly as we groped each other, breaking our kiss to throw her head back and gasp before putting her lips back on mine. After but a few minutes, she drew back again, pausing to catch her breath: “God, I’ve missed the way you touch me.” Then, looking up at me with a sly grin, she asked: “Where do you want me, baby?”

“On your knees where you belong,” I countered, motioning her into the living room. She spun around on her heels and strode into the living room, pulling her top off up over her head as she did, revealing the thick white stripe of a strapless bra across her back. I followed, watching rounded ass sway in her flouncy skirt as she walked. “I might be out of practice,” she said, sinking onto her knees near the sofa, and looking up at me expectantly. “I haven’t sucked a cock in years.” Her prodigious cleavage was quivering and practically bursting out of her bra as she breathed deeply and tried to settle herself.

“You don’t suck your husband’s cock?” I asked incredulously, unzipping my fly.

She bit her lip and shook her head. “I just don’t want to with him…but…yours…” Her eyes widened as I opened my trousers and withdrew mine, raging hard and ready. Wordlessly, she exhaled, closed her eyes and leaned forward to take the thick head of my cock into her mouth. Feeling it fill her mouth, she let out a loud, quivery groan as I put my hands gently on her head. She groaned again and started blowing me in earnest, showing no sign of having forgotten how to suck a cock. Pausing to catch her breath, she muttered “fuck, I’ve missed sucking cock” before immediately returning it, glistening-wet, to her mouth. And whatever anxieties I’d had about fucking another man’s wife disappeared as readily as my cock did into her mouth and throat.

In reply to her, I said, “well, I’ve missed seeing those great big tits of yours, and you’re going to show them to me.” In one of the sexiest moments of my life, she paused, looked up at me with her mouth full of my cock, gently nodded with smiling eyes, before pulling her mouth back while she reached behind her to unfasten her bra. She leaned back onto the sofa’s edge holding the bra in place, before casually tossing it aside to reveal the huge, heaving masses of her tits. Reader, her breasts were stunning — as firm and perfectly-shaped as a decade earlier, with thick, stubby pink nipples that she flicked with her thumbs as she showed off for me. I groaned softly: “God, look at you….”

Wordlessly, she smiled a soft, devious smile and then immediately leaned back forward to take my cock back into her mouth. She continued for a few minutes while I removed my shirt and reveled in the sight of another man’s wife blissfully blowing me. Before long, she started rolling her hips as she worked her mouth, and I caught a glimpse of her lightly fingering herself under her skirt. At this point, with my anxieties completely gone, I pulled back, gently shoved her back onto the sofa, and dropped to my knees between her legs. In moments, I’d tugged her skirt and lacy panties down to reveal her bare pink pussy and immediately moved in to lick her with a broad, flat sweep of my tongue. She groaned a long “oohhhh fuuucck…” as I began to lick her already sopping-wet pussy, then began letting out a series of breathy moans as I continued. “Y-you…” she stuttered. “You just…NGH…know…”

As she lay sprawled on my sofa, clawing alternately at her big tits and my head, I ate her pink pussy while she moaned and groaned until finally, almost violently, she started quaking with a powerful orgasm. “FFFUUUCKKKK….” she groaned as she came, her hands futilely trying to grip the sofa, and then, charmingly, began half-laughing, half-crying — overcome with a flood of emotion. Still, I worked my tongue and mouth on her clit, with my mouth tightly fixed, riding the roll of her hips as she shuddered and moaned: “GGGODDDAMNIT…” Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she calmed and fumblingly nudged my head away to catch her breath. I did the same, savoring the feeling of my slick lips with my head still perched between her thighs, before finally standing back up to take in the site of her in a naked, heap on my sofa.

She was quite a sight, all soft skin and outrageous curves, her eyelids heavy as she tried to calm her breathing. With such live pornography in front of me, I couldn’t help but take my cock into my hand as I stood above her. She met my gaze and smiled, pleased as always to be recognized as sexually-desirable, and softly clutched at the soft, heavy masses of her tits. “Jesus, I could let you eat me all day, but…” she trailed off momentarily as her hand slid down to the slick slit between her legs, “I need your cock.” Staring me straight in the eyes as she began gently fingering herself, she lowered her voice further, and slowly, steadily, whispered “please fuck me,” followed by a more forceful, desperate-sounding “PLEASE.” Her eyes were wild with passion, and holy hell was it hot.

“Let’s move,” I said, scooping her up off the sofa and into my arms. She clutched hard at my back as she rose, momentarily drawing her warm body close to mine to kiss my chest before pivoting to head straight for my bedroom, leading me by the hand as if she hadn’t first set foot in my home than 40 minutes earlier. After retrieving a condom from my bedside table, we tumbled onto my bed in the midafternoon light, with her landing square on her back as she tried to pull me down on top of her. Wanting to savor the moment, not knowing whether I’d ever have another chance, I paused on all fours above her, taking in the sight of her gorgeous body and eyes pleading for me to fuck her. “Look at you all desperate and needy,” I teased as I rolled the condom on.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Please. Please fuck me…it’s been so long.” With a sly smile spreading across my face, I positioned myself between her legs and slowly, steadily eased my cock into her wet, waiting pussy. At the feeling, she closed her eyes, bit her lip, and arched her back as she let out a deep, guttural groan of need finally fulfilled: “Ohhh FUUUCCCKK….” She quivered slightly as I paused, holding myself barely inside her for a moment. “God, I’ve missed your cock…” she moaned, her voice rising to the word “cock” as if to highlight it. “I’ve needed it for so long…” she moaned, gently thrusting her hips downward as she gripped the bedclothes at her side. “Fuck me…please fuck me,” she moaned.

I complied, easing my cock back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm for a few minutes with my arms locked and extended on either side of her. Her face contorted as she groaned and squealed, before her eyes snapped back open to stare directly into mine. “Deeper,” she begged, as she rocked her hips forward to invite even more of my cock into her. Her eyes were wild with desire and need: “Fuck me deeper.” She groaned again as I buried my cock to the hilt inside of her and began to fuck her more insistently. “Fuck, YES, so much cock…” she moaned, “I’ve — NGH — missed feeling full.” (I pause here, Readers, for disclosure that my dick is neither small nor large. I later learned, however, that her husband’s is on the smaller side.)

With those words fresh in my mind, I did not hold back and started to really fuck her. Hard. Settling back onto my heels, I grabbed her by her hips and forced her down onto my throbbing-hard cock with every thrust. “Now you’re fucking full,” I grunted, burying myself as deeply and repeatedly inside her as possible. Her head thrown back, she splayed her arms wide on my bed, desperate for something to grip, while her huge tits swayed in a mesmerizing rhythm equal to my increasingly violent thrusts. Gasping, she only squeaked the word “fuck” here and there until finally erupting into another quivering, shaking orgasm as I continued mercilessly pounding away at her.

“Don’t stop,” she cried between gaspy gulps of air, “don’t…don’t…MORE…” That last word — “more” — has always been a trigger for me when groaned or moaned *in flagrante*, and she, naturally, remembered. I couldn’t stop and didn’t want to stop and fucked and fucked and fucked her until I was ready to cum. She met every thrust, moaning and flailing with each, lifting her hips off the bed in a futile attempt to allow my cock somehow even deeper into her. Finally, I could hold it no longer, and released a dozen years of memories and desire into the condom covering the cock I had forced as deeply into her searing-hot pussy as was physically possible. I groaned a DEEP, guttural groan as I came, collapsing down towards her chest, as I forced my hips hard against hers with every spurt of cum. Still trembling herself, she immediately clutched at my back to pull me down and in and close. Her voice was surprisingly soft as she gripped me while I came: “fuck, yes…cum in me, cum in me…”

It was a revelation, in more ways than one. And when I found myself still struggling to catch my breath several moments later, it wasn’t just because of the vigorous sex. A door had been opened for me, a taboo broken, and I didn’t know what would come next.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/jbco5u/mf_the_unintentional_bull_or_how_ive_spent_the