A BBC Bull's Tale - Thomas Roberts - ebook
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By day, Darryl is a floor manager in a manufacturing plant. By night, he’s a Bull—a seriously buff black stud who lives to service married white women with cuckold husbands. It’s amazing how many husbands want to watch! As word spreads, he finds himself becoming a little too popular with the ladies…and then he falls in love! How far will he go to satisfy his own needs and desires?~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~By day, I’m a floor manager in a manufacturing plant; on many nights and weekends, I’m a Bull. A Bull is a man, usually a black man, who services a woman, usually a white married woman. Not a bad hobby, I guess…as word has spread, I’ve found myself becoming popular in some circles.Lucy works in the office of the plant as an secretary to one of the owners. I noticed her first because of her appearance. Lucy drew attention to herself without trying, or even being aware that she was doing it. She’s beautiful, perfect skin without makeup, long blonde hair, and even white teeth that seemed to shine when she smiles.She’s tall for a woman, slim hips over long legs, it was no secret that she kept herself in shape. I’d heard that she ran every morning before coming into work, and I believed it. The only thing I couldn’t believe was how she found bras large enough to hold her breasts. Lucy was gifted in that department.Her husband was rumored to be a preacher at some weird cult just outside of town. Lucy carried one of their “bibles” with her and could be seen reading it whenever she ate her lunch at work. Maybe because she was a religious, church-going person, Lucy seemed, by nature, to be an innocent.  Innocent of her beauty and most of all, innocent of her effect on men. She was just so good natured and well… good…that I’m sure she couldn’t conceive of the kinds of thoughts men had when she walked past them.Lucy always wore conservative skirts that did nothing to hide her curves and the length of her legs. She was blissfully unaware that the bellowing blouses she wore in summer, and the sweaters she wore in winter, provided a tantalizing hint of her particular gift.I could probably count, on the fingers of one hand, the number of times we’d spoken to each other. I worked on the plant floor and the only time I saw Lucy was when I was called into the office or when I needed something from her boss.When she walked across the plant, worked seemed to slow down as the men stopped to stared at her. Lucy just smiled and said “hello” to everybody she met.Our town is in the middle of the “Bible Belt,” it was important to be careful when talking about women or sex. Everybody belonged to a church and some were rabid in their beliefs.I didn’t stare. I was one of the few black men working in the plant, and I liked my job. Besides, at 6’5” I’d be hard to miss looking at a beautiful white woman. I kept my head down and did my job.Holly was another white woman who worked in the same office with Lucy. She didn’t draw the same level of attention; being shorter, with mousy brown hair, she was not the type that would cause rumors or jealousy.Holly and I got along fine, she was easy to talk with and I liked her. I seemed to be one of the few men who suspected her barely controlled sexuality.Holly lived alone in a small two-bedroom apartment where her only interests seemed to be books and sex, and books about sex. Our talks covered a variety of topics, she was well educated but our conversations always came back to sex.“Hi, Darryl. How’s it hanging?” It was Holly sneaking up behind me.“Long, black and hard. You should try it sometime,” I answered her.

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A BBC Bull’s Tale

By Thomas Roberts

Artwork by Moira Nelligar

Copyright © 2017 - All Rights Reserved

THIS IS AN EROTIC WORK OF FICTION. Any resemblance to persons living or deal is accidental and damned amazing. THIS WORK IS NOT MEANT FOR ANY PERSONS UNDER THE AGE OF 18.

The hotwife genre appeals to me. These are the books I like to read and these are the stories I like to tell, so thank you to the people who read my books.

Be warned, there is sex in this book, lots of it. If that offends you, please don’t read any further. But if you are looking for a fun, dirty read. This is it.

Chapter 1

By day I’m a floor manager in a manufacturing plant; on many nights and weekends I’m a Bull. A Bull is a man, usually a black man with a large penis, who services a woman, usually a white married woman, with a cuckold husband. Not a bad hobby I guess, as word has spread I’ve found myself becoming popular in some circles.

Lucy works in the office of the plant as an administrative assistant to one of the owners. I noticed her first because of her appearance. Lucy drew attention to herself without trying, or even being aware that she was doing it. She’s beautiful, perfect skin without makeup, long blonde hair, and even white teeth that seemed to shine when she smiles.

She’s tall for a woman, slim hips over long legs, it was no secret that she kept herself in shape. I’d heard that she ran every morning before coming into work, and I believed it. The only thing I couldn’t believe was how she found bras large enough to hold her breasts. Lucy was gifted in that department.

Her husband was rumored to be a preacher at some weird cult just outside of town. Lucy carried one of their “bibles” with her and could be seen reading it whenever she ate her lunch at work. Maybe because she was a religious, church-going person, Lucy seemed, by nature, to be an innocent. Innocent of her beauty and most of all, innocent of her effect on men. She was just so good natured and well… good…that I’m sure she couldn’t conceive of the kinds of thoughts men had when she walked past them.

Lucy always wore conservative skirts that did nothing to hide the curve of her ass and the length of her legs. She was blissfully unaware that the bellowing blouses she wore in summer, and the sweaters she wore in winter, provided a tantalizing hint of her particular gift.

I could probably count, on the fingers of one hand, the number of times we’d spoken to each other. I worked on the plant floor and the only time I saw Lucy was when I was called into the office or when I needed something from her boss.

When she walked across the plant, worked seemed to slow down as the men stopped to stared at her. Lucy just smiled and said “hello” to everybody she met.

Our town is in the middle of the “Bible Belt,” it was important to be careful when talking about women or sex. Everybody belonged to a church and some were rabid in their beliefs.

I didn’t stare. I was one of the few black men working in the plant, and I liked my job. Besides, at 6’5” I’d be hard to miss looking at a beautiful white woman. I kept my head down and did my job.

Holly was another white woman who worked in the same office with Lucy. She didn’t draw the same level of attention; being shorter, with mousy brown hair and glasses, she was not the type that would cause rumors or jealousy.

Holly and I got along fine, she was easy to talk with and I liked her. I seemed to be one of the few men who suspected her barely controlled sexuality.

Holly lived alone in a small two-bedroom apartment where her only interests seemed to be books and sex, and books about sex. Our talks covered a variety of topics, she was well educated but our conversations always came back to sex.

“Hi, Darryl. How’s it hanging,” it was Holly sneaking up behind me.

“Long, black and hard. You should try it sometime,” I answered her.

“Oh, damn it, Darryl. Don’t tease a girl, I haven’t had long, black and hard in like … forever,” Holly was looking at me with a hunger in her eyes that I’d seen before.

Turning back to my work I said, “you know what they say? Once you go black,” I left the rest unsaid.

Holly brushed past me, dragging her tit across my arm, whispering, “…I’d never go back.”

Chapter 2

I had been busy, there was a steady flow of emails to answer, usually from husbands, but occasionally from their wives. Most commonly they’d been referred by a couple I knew, but sometimes I’d get an email from someone completely new.

Hotwife message boards could be wonderful things, especially when they were looking for a BBC (Big Black Cock) in my city. I had to be careful, it wasn’t like a referral, I didn’t know if they were telling the truth and were real people, or if it was a prank by some 14-year-old. If they were real, I didn’t know what they looked like, even pictures could be faked. Usually I’d set up a meeting and arrange to arrive early, sitting at a different table or even standing at a distance outside. If anything seemed off, I’d just leave.

I did not understand a man’s desire to see the woman he loved fucked by another man. It was a powerful fetish, I’d seen firsthand how it could take hold of a man, or sometimes a woman, and cause them to do things that society thought of as perverted. I would never want to watch my woman as some other man took her to sexual heights she’d never achieved before.

Thankfully there were people who wanted to do just that, and thankfully some of them turned to me. I had to understand the desire for them to, not only watch their wife, but to enjoy the torment the fear of loss caused them. The fear of being abandoned for another man. If I didn’t understand it at all, I couldn’t meet their needs and I wouldn’t get more referrals.

That’s how I met Brad and Amy. Brad had contacted me and we exchanged emails for almost two months as he slowly worked up to telling me what he wanted. I agreed to meet them at a Starbucks near their home.

Brad and Amy had to be the whitest white people I’d ever seen, they could pose together for magazine covers. Brad was dressed the way I imagined a corporate mid-level manager would dress on the weekend. Docker pants, Topsiders, and a Brook Brothers polo shirt. Amy was wearing a pair of yoga pants and a tube top showing a firm belly and smallish breasts. They didn’t look like they’d dressed for the same get-together, maybe they’d arrived separately.

Both were good looking people, Amy had dark hair and what can only be described as a slinky body. She moved like a leopard between the tables, when she turned to slide between two other customers I caught sight of her perfect ass. Both appeared to be in their early 30’s. Brad was carrying Amy’s purse, our agreed upon recognition signal. He looked uncomfortable carrying what was clearly a woman’s handbag. Amy looked entirely unconcerned by her husband’s discomfort.

In our emails, Brad had written that they’d discussed meeting me, and that Amy was turned on by the idea of a black man with a big cock. Brad had been working on her to go further than just a meeting, but all Amy had agreed to was a cup of coffee.

I approached them from the front, letting them see me coming. I didn’t want the sight of large black man, suddenly appearing out of nowhere, to frighten them off.

I smiled broadly, non-threateningly. “Brad? Amy? I’m Darryl, it’s very nice to meet you,” I said holding my hand out to Amy and then to Brad. Amy’s handshake was firm, even as her hand disappeared inside mine. Brad’s shake was firm also, but his palm was damp.

“Can I get you anything?” I asked politely. I don’t sound black, sometimes that works against me, sometimes it puts people at ease. Amy shoulders had been visibly tightened, even though she tried to appear unconcerned; I watched her relax as we talked.

“Honey, this is the man I’ve been telling you about … well you know,” Brad began.

“Are you as good as Brad says?” Amy jumped right in. “Are you really that big?”

She was looking directly into my eyes, waiting for an answer. My opinion was changing, I thought that Brad had been driving this boat, but maybe it was Amy.

“I am that big,” I told her. “I’ve been told that I’m good,” I held her eyes with my own, we were sizing each other up.

“I like a man who knows how to prepare a woman, a man who doesn’t just jump in. Are you that kind of man?” Amy asked.

Brad had a surprised look on his face, moving his head like he was at a tennis match. First looking in amazement at his wife, then at me. Neither of us paid any attention to him.

The Starbucks was packed, but most of the people were either talking to friends or busy on their laptops or smartphones. Brad looked around in concern, just to make sure we weren’t overheard.

“A woman can’t enjoy the experience if I ‘jump right in.’” I told her. “I believe it’s my job to help her enjoy everything that happens.”

“I agree,” she said. “Do you like to eat pussy?”

Now even I was concerned about being overheard, although we didn’t break eye contact. “I love to eat pussy,” I told her. Amy considered this while she sipped her coffee, we still hadn’t broken eye contact.

“Brad,” she said finally looking at him. “Wait here, order another espresso for me.” Amy stood up and beckoned me to follow her, Brad just watched us leave, his eyes open in wonder.

I followed Amy around the corner of the building into a small alleyway. There was the smell of rotting food coming from two dumpsters as Amy stepped between them.

Resting her back against the brick wall, she said, “Show me. Kiss me the same way you would kiss my pussy.”

I stepped close to her, one hand on the wall, as I bent to her mouth. I ran my tongue lightly over her lips, taking the time to lick the corners, simulating a clitoris.

As I licked her pretend clit, I used my forefinger to lightly caress her lips and the sensitive skin around them. I felt her tongue flick out to explore my finger tip as I softly licked and kissed my way down her bottom lip, sucking her pretend clitoris into my mouth before continuing to her exposed throat. I felt the vibration of her moan as I kissed her, my finger still caressing her lips.

Amy’s hands came up to gently push me away, first brushing the front of my pants to judge the size of my cock. “Let’s go back inside,” she was breathless, her lips slightly swollen, her pupils were dilated.

I followed her catlike movements to our table. When we rejoined Brad, there was a fresh drink waiting for her.

“He’ll do, Brad,” she picked up her to-go cup and left. We both watched as she walked outside. She hadn’t bothered to sit down.

“Um … so,” Brad began. “How does this work? Do we pay you or anything?”

I was a little breathless myself. “You pick the place, Brad. Your house, a hotel, wherever Amy’s comfortable. Depending on what the two of you want, you can watch or you can wait for her. Just send me an email if you’d like to proceed, we’ll work out the details. You don’t pay me, but I don’t spend anything either. You want a hotel room, that’s on you,” I didn’t bother with my coffee. I left Brad alone with his thoughts.

Chapter 3

I hadn’t talked to Holly or seen Lucy in several weeks, when I found myself free on a Friday night. The club I went to was in a town a few miles down the interstate, in an almost real city with a real downtown and actual nightlife. There were several dance clubs, usually crowded on a weekend night, and all surrounded by late night dining.