My Wife's Alpha Bull Takes Priority

Otto watched Bianca finish her makeup at the vanity, the late-afternoon light catching the gold of her blonde hair. At thirty-four she still turned heads everywhere, five-foot-four and one hundred twenty-eight pounds of curves that filled her sundress, those heavy 34DDD breasts pushing the neckline, her ass high and firm. They had been married two years. From the start she had wanted a hotwife life, asymmetrical and sometimes wife-led, and Otto had agreed because the idea of her choosing stronger men made his smaller cock throb. He stood five-seven, one hundred sixty pounds, and the four inches between his legs had never been enough to satisfy her the way she needed. She had told him early that she would always stay his wife, and he believed her.

Their neighbor Errol had been part of her life longer than the marriage. Fifty-eight, good-looking, six-foot-two and two hundred ten pounds of solid muscle under expensive clothes, wealthy enough that his house felt like a private club. His thick nine-inch cock was the reason Bianca still drove the short distance several nights a week. Errol was kind to Otto, never cruel for its own sake, but unmistakably alpha; when he wanted Bianca he simply invited them both, and she went.

Tonight the text had come while they were still at work. Errol wanted them over after dinner. Bianca set the lipstick down and turned, eyes clear. “Otto, I need you to hear this before we leave. I love you. We will always stay married. That will never change. But Errol is my alpha bull. Whenever he desires me, he takes priority. His cock, his pleasure, his time. You come second. Can you live with that openly?”

Otto’s pulse jumped. The words landed exactly where the fantasy lived. “Yes,” he said. “I want you to have him first.”

She kissed his cheek, soft and final. “Then get the car. He is waiting.”

Errol’s house glowed behind tall hedges, warm lamps already lit along the stone path. He opened the door himself, tall and easy in a dark shirt that stretched across his chest, silver at the temples, smile genuine. “Bianca. Otto. Come in.” His voice was low and certain. Inside, the living room smelled of leather and cedar. Bianca did not hesitate. She crossed to the wide sofa, sat so close her thigh pressed Errol’s, and let her hand rest high on his leg. Otto took the chair opposite, already half-hard, watching the way her fingers moved.

They talked for only a few minutes about nothing. Then Bianca turned her face up and kissed Errol, slow and deep, tongue sliding into his mouth while her palm cupped the heavy bulge in his pants and stroked it through the fabric. The outline of that thick nine inches grew under her hand. She broke the kiss just long enough to look at Otto, voice sweet and firm. “His needs come first tonight. You understand that, don’t you? I get so much wetter for him. He fills me the way you never can. I want you to see how satisfied he makes me.”

Otto nodded, face hot, cock straining uselessly against his zipper. Bianca’s cheeks were flushed, nipples tight under the thin dress. She kissed Errol again, longer, grinding her palm along his length until Errol’s hand slid under her skirt and she gasped into his mouth. “Bedroom,” Errol said quietly. Bianca stood at once, took Otto’s hand only to lead him after them, her consent bright and eager in every step.

In the large bedroom Errol sat on the edge of the bed and opened his pants. Bianca stripped without being asked, dress and panties gone, blonde hair spilling over those full breasts as she dropped to her knees between his thighs. “Stay in the chair, Otto,” she said, glancing back. “Watch. Don’t touch yourself yet.” Otto sat where she pointed, four inches already leaking, and stared.

She wrapped both hands around the base of Errol’s cock and still could not cover it. The thick shaft rose nine heavy inches, veins standing out, the head broad and dark. Bianca licked from balls to tip, slow and worshipful, then opened her mouth and took him in. Her lips stretched, saliva shining as she bobbed, cheeks hollowing, one hand stroking what she could not swallow while the other cradled his heavy balls. She pulled off with a wet sound, pressed the glistening length between her breasts, and fucked him with her cleavage, looking up. “God, it’s so much bigger than yours, Otto. Look how it fills my mouth. Your little four inches could never reach this far. I love choking on my bull.”

Errol groaned, hips lifting. She sucked him again, deeper, gagging softly and loving it, spit running down her chin onto her tits. When he was slick and rigid she rose, turned, and bent over the edge of the bed, ass high, blonde hair falling forward. “Fuck me,” she told Errol. “Hard. Show him.”

Errol stood, lined the broad head against her soaked pussy, and pushed. Bianca cried out as the thick inches stretched her open, sliding deep until his hips met her ass. He gripped her waist and began to thrust, long powerful strokes that made her breasts swing and her moans turn raw. “Yes—deeper—fuck, you’re so thick.” Each drive shoved her forward on the mattress. Otto watched the way her cunt gripped that massive shaft, juices shining on Errol’s cock every time he pulled back. Bianca reached between her legs and rubbed her clit, then suddenly jerked and squirted, a hot spray soaking Errol’s thighs and the sheets. “Oh god, I’m cumming already—your cock makes me squirt, Otto, he makes me lose it—your tiny dick never did this.”

Errol did not slow. He fucked her through the orgasm, hips slamming, the wet sounds loud in the room. She squirted again, thighs shaking, voice breaking into helpless cries. “More—please—don’t stop—fill me the way he can’t.” Errol pulled out only long enough to flip her onto her back, drag her to the edge, and push her knees up. He pinned both her wrists above her head with one large hand and drove back in, missionary, deep and relentless. Bianca’s eyes rolled, mouth open. “Yes—pin me—use me—your stamina is insane. Otto would have finished in two minutes. You just keep pounding this little pussy.”

Errol’s heavy balls slapped her ass with every stroke. He leaned down, mouth at her ear, still holding her wrists, and fucked her harder, the thick nine inches bottoming out again and again. Bianca came loudly, back arching, cunt clenching and fluttering around him while she screamed his name and then Otto’s. “See? See how I cum on a real cock? Your four inches just sit there. He owns this hole. He dominates me and I love it. Stay small for me, husband. Watch your wife get fucked properly.”

She kept talking through the aftershocks, voice wrecked and honest, contrasting every thrust with the memory of Otto’s quick, shallow efforts, praising Errol’s size, his control, the way he held her down and made her take every inch. Errol’s rhythm finally broke. He buried himself to the hilt, groaned, and flooded her with a heavy creampie, pulse after pulse of cum pumping deep until it leaked around his shaft and ran down her thighs in thick white trails.

He stayed inside her a moment longer, both of them breathing hard, then eased out. Bianca pulled him down for a long, passionate kiss, tasting herself on his mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered against his lips. “That was so much better. You fuck me the way I need.” She turned her head, still on her back, cum dripping steadily onto the sheets, and smiled at Otto with open love. She reached for him. He came to the bed and she curled against his side, warm and soft, one hand resting on his chest while Errol’s seed continued to leak from her well-used pussy. “We’re still married,” she murmured, kissing Otto’s jaw, voice tender and certain. “Always. But my body belongs to my bull first.” Otto held her, the heat of her skin and the scent of another man’s cum filling his lungs, the afterglow already settling over all three of them as her breathing slowed against his shoulder.