Anna's First Bull: Errol Forced to Watch at the Beach

The cove opened below the last switchback like a secret the island had kept for them alone. White sand cupped by black rock, a strip of turquoise so clear Anna could see the ripples on the bottom, and not another towel, boat, or voice anywhere in the late-afternoon heat. Errol killed the rental’s engine and sat a moment with both hands on the wheel, thirty years old and still a little stunned that his wife had booked the whole weekend without asking him once what he wanted.

“Romantic,” he said, almost to himself. “You weren’t kidding.”

Anna stepped out into the salt wind. Twenty-eight, sun already coloring the tops of her shoulders, the thin white cover-up doing nothing to hide the red bikini underneath. She had chosen it that morning in the hotel mirror and watched herself turn, imagining other hands on the ties. Months of messages. Months of photos she had sent from the bathroom while Errol slept in the next room, his soft breathing the only thing between her and the man on the other end of the screen. She had told herself she might still cancel. She had not canceled.

They carried the blanket and the cooler down the path. Errol spread the blanket where the sand was dry and warm, kicked off his sandals, and reached for her waist the way he always did when he wanted to feel married. She let him kiss her once, light, then turned her face toward the water.

“Someone’s coming,” she said.

A man was picking his way down the rocks at the far end of the cove. Broad through the chest and shoulders, dark skin shining, a faded pair of swim trunks slung low on a body that had clearly been built and kept. Thirty-five, easy in his stride, a duffel over one shoulder. He lifted a hand when he saw her. Not a stranger’s wave. A confirmation.

Errol straightened. “You know him?”

Anna’s pulse was so loud she could taste it. “His name is Gideon.”

“From where?”

“From me.” She faced her husband. The wind lifted the hem of the cover-up and showed the red string at her hip. “I asked him to meet us. I’ve been talking to him for months. I want him. Today. Here. And I want you to sit on that blanket and watch every second of it. No interrupting. No touching yourself. You just watch.”

The words landed between them harder than the surf. Errol’s mouth opened. Color climbed his neck. He looked at the man closing the distance, then back at his wife, and she saw the fight in him—and under it, the thing he had never said out loud when she described other men in bed and he got hard anyway.

“Anna.”

“Say you’ll stay,” she said. “Say it so I know you mean it. If you want to leave, leave now. If you stay, you watch. That’s the deal.”

Gideon stopped a few yards off, giving them the space, arms loose at his sides. Up close he was bigger than the photos. Thick neck, heavy arms, a calm face that had already decided how this afternoon would go.

Errol swallowed. His hands opened and closed. “I’ll stay,” he said, voice thin. “I’ll watch.”

“Good.” Anna’s smile was bright and cruel and grateful all at once. “Sit.”

He sat.

Gideon came the rest of the way and looked her over like a man inspecting something he had already paid for in patience. “You showed up,” he said. His voice was low, unhurried.

“So did you.”

He glanced at Errol on the blanket. “He knows the rules?”

“He knows.”

“Then come here.”

She went. The first kiss happened at the edge of the wash, where the small waves broke over their ankles and pulled back, foaming. Gideon’s hand cupped the back of her neck and his mouth took hers without asking a second time. Anna made a sound into him that Errol had not heard from her in years—open, hungry, almost startled by how fast her body answered. Gideon’s other hand slid under the cover-up, over the curve of her ass, and squeezed. She rose onto her toes. Sand stuck to her calves. The red bikini top pressed flat against his chest.

Errol sat with his knees up and his fingers dug into the blanket. He could see the way Gideon’s tongue moved, the way Anna chased it. He could see his wife’s hand travel down a stomach that was not his and settle, bold, over the front of those trunks.

“God,” she breathed when Gideon let her mouth go. “You’re already hard.”

“Been hard since I saw you on the path.”

She stroked him through the fabric, slow, learning the length of him in front of her husband. Her eyes flicked to the blanket. “Errol. Look at this. Don’t you dare look away.”

He looked. Gideon hooked a thumb in his waistband and pushed the trunks down. His cock swung out heavy, thick, the head already dark and wet, veins standing along the shaft. Anna’s fingers didn’t meet when she wrapped them around it. She laughed once, breathless, delighted.

“Jesus. Feel that.” She stroked him, base to tip, and moaned like the touch alone was enough. “Errol, he’s so much bigger than you. So much harder. I can barely get my hand around him. You’ve never been this hard for me. Not once.”

The words hit Errol low in the gut. His own cock stirred in his shorts, traitorous, and he kept his hands on the blanket the way she had ordered. Gideon’s palm slid up Anna’s ribs and tugged the bikini top down. Her breasts spilled into the sun, nipples tight, and Gideon bent and took one into his mouth, sucking hard enough that she cried out and grabbed his shoulder.

“Yes—like that—harder.”

He sucked and bit lightly and rolled the other nipple between finger and thumb while the shallow water licked their shins. Anna’s hips rocked against his thigh. She kept one hand working his cock, slick now with his precum, and every stroke made a wet sound the cove threw back at them.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said, loud enough for the rocks to hear. “Right here. On this beach. In front of him. I don’t care who could walk down that path. I want him to see what you do to me.”

Gideon lifted his head. His mouth was wet. “On your knees in the sand, then. Face him.”

She dropped the cover-up where the water wouldn’t take it and went to her hands and knees on the firm wet sand just above the wash. The red bottoms clung to her. Gideon knelt behind her, hooked two fingers under the crotch, and pulled the fabric aside. She was soaked. The air hit her and she shivered, then pushed back, offering.

“Look at your husband,” Gideon said.

Anna lifted her face. Errol was ten feet away, rigid, eyes wide, cock straining uselessly against his shorts. She held his gaze while Gideon rubbed the thick head of his cock up and down her slit, coating himself, teasing her open.

“Please,” she said. “Put it in. Let him see.”

Gideon pushed. The head spread her, slow and relentless, and Anna’s mouth fell open on a broken moan. Inch by inch he fed her that cock until his hips met her ass and she was stuffed so full her arms shook. Errol saw the stretch. He saw the way her pussy gripped and fluttered around a shaft that dwarfed anything he had ever put in her. A helpless sound left his throat.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Anna gasped, still locked on his eyes. “You just watch. Watch a real cock fill your wife.”

Gideon drew back and drove in again, harder. The wet slap of his hips against her ass cracked across the cove. Sand gritted under her knees. Each thrust shoved a cry out of her—high, shameless, nothing like the quiet sounds she made in their bed. He set a pace that was deep and mean and steady, one heavy hand on her hip, the other gathering her hair into a fist and hauling her head up so she could not hide her face.

“Tell him,” Gideon said.

“He’s—fuck—he’s splitting me open.” Her voice cracked on the next thrust. “Errol, he feels so much better. So much thicker. I can feel every vein. You’re nothing next to this. You’re nothing.”

Gideon slapped her ass, a sharp crack that left a red print, and she yelped and shoved back onto him, greedy for the sting. He slapped her again, then again, fucking her through it, the impacts jolting her breasts, making them swing. Salt water crept up and cooled her wrists. She didn’t care. She kept her eyes on Errol while her husband watched his wife get pounded into the sand by a man who handled her like she had been waiting her whole marriage for exactly this.

“Harder,” she begged. “Make it loud. Make him hear how wet I am for you.”

Gideon obliged. The sounds were obscene—slick, rhythmic, her moans breaking into little sobs of pleasure every time he bottomed out. He reached under her and rubbed her clit with two fingers, rough and sure, and Anna’s thighs started to quake.

“I’m gonna come,” she warned, staring straight at Errol. “On his cock. Not yours. Watch me come on a bull’s cock like a desperate slut.”

She came with a wail that bounced off the rocks, pussy clamping down so hard Gideon grunted and had to hold still inside her while she spasmed and gushed around him. Her arms gave. Her cheek nearly hit the sand. He held her up by the hair and kept her facing her husband until the aftershocks passed, then pulled out slow so Errol could see how open she was, how her hole fluttered and dripped.

“Up,” Gideon said. “I want him to see you take it the other way.”

He lay back on the sand, cock standing thick and shining with her. Anna swung a leg over and faced Errol, reverse, and sank down. The angle let her husband watch every inch disappear into her stretched pussy, the lips clinging, the shaft vanishing until she was seated to the root and panting. She planted her hands on Gideon’s thighs and started to ride.

“See?” she said, breathless, rolling her hips. “See how deep he goes? You never reach this. You never fill me. Look at my pussy taking him. Look at it.”

Errol looked. He couldn’t not. His wife’s ass bounced, red from the slaps, sand stuck to the sweat on her back. Gideon’s cock reappeared and vanished, reappeared and vanished, glossy, enormous, spreading her on every drop. Gideon gripped her hips and started thrusting up to meet her, driving into her from below so hard her tits bounced and her voice went ragged.

“Say it again,” he ordered, and slapped the side of her ass.

“A real bull feels better,” she cried. “He fucks me better. He owns this pussy better than you ever did, Errol. Sit there and watch him use me. Watch your wife get ruined on the beach.”

Gideon sat up enough to grab her hair again, yanking her spine into an arch, and hammered her. The wet sounds got louder. Anna’s eyes watered and she didn’t blink, didn’t look away from the man on the blanket who had promised not to touch himself and was keeping that promise with white-knuckled hands. Gideon’s free hand cracked across her ass again, then again, marking her, and she thanked him for every one.

“I’m close,” Gideon growled against her shoulder. “You want it inside?”

“Yes. Fill me. Creampie me in front of him. I want him to see your cum pouring out of his wife.”

He slammed up into her and held, cock pulsing, and Anna felt the hot rush flood her—thick, endless, spurt after spurt painting her deep. She moaned through it, grinding down to take every drop, eyes still on Errol, letting him watch her get bred on a public strip of sand by the first bull she had ever had. Gideon kept throbbing inside her until he was spent, then relaxed his grip on her hair. She stayed seated a moment, trembling, full, overflowing already around the base of him.

He pulled out. The sudden emptiness made her gasp. Cum spilled in a thick white ribbon down her thigh and onto his stomach, then more, dripping from her fucked-open pussy onto the sand. Errol saw all of it. He saw his wife’s hole gaping and leaking another man’s load in the sunset light.

Anna crawled off Gideon on shaky arms and knees. Sand stuck to her palms, her tits, the mess on her inner thighs. She crawled straight to the blanket, straight to her husband, and rose up between his knees. Her mouth found his before he could speak. She kissed him deep, filthy, tongue pushing past his lips so he tasted Gideon on her—salt, sweat, the faint bitter edge of the cock that had just wrecked her. She held his face and made him take it, made him lick the proof off her tongue.

When she pulled back, her lips were shiny and her eyes were bright and mean.

“That’s what he tastes like,” she said. “Get used to it. This is only the beginning. I’m going to keep fucking him. I’m going to bring him home. You’re going to watch every time, just like this, hard and useless, while a real man fills me.”

Gideon stood over them, trunks still around one ankle, stroking his spent cock slow and lazy, working the last drops to the tip. The sun was dropping behind the rocks, turning the cove gold and then copper, and none of them moved to dress. Anna stayed on her knees in front of Errol, one hand on his chest to keep him down, cum still leaking out of her onto the blanket between his legs. She leaned in close to his ear, voice low and already planning.

“Next time he fucks my throat first,” she whispered. “Then he bends me over our bed and makes you hold my hands while he pumps another load so deep I taste it. You’re going to thank him.”

Gideon’s fist worked his softening cock above them, and a last fat bead of cum welled at the slit and dropped onto Anna’s shoulder. She smeared it with her fingers and pushed those fingers into Errol’s mouth.

“Swallow my bull’s cum, husband,” she said, and the last light caught the shine on her chin. “Lick it off my fingers and thank him for breeding your wife’s sloppy cunt while you sat there and watched like a good little cuck.”