I have a date with a new Bull. After chatting for quite some time, we finally arranged our first date. And not just any date – it’s an coffee date and overnight stay.
My God.
We’re really jumping straight into the deep end with this one.
Can I actually do this?
That question keeps running through my head while my stress levels slowly start climbing.
To make matters worse, I still need a few things. I have new pumps and a sexy dress in mind, which means a trip into is unavoidable. My day starts with a hair appointment at 9:00 a.m., followed by taking the car through the car wash. After that, I need to find the perfect dress, shoes and stockings. Oh, and somehow I also have to fit in a nail appointment.
In theory, it should all be manageable.
In practice?
Everything starts running late.
Naturally.
As if the universe enjoys testing my patience, I can’t immediately find a dress that I like. Then, just when I think things can’t get any more complicated, there’s a payment system outage and I have to hunt down an ATM to get cash.
Because apparently today’s theme is: unnecessary obstacles.
The shoes aren’t any easier. Every pair is either the wrong style, the wrong heel height, or simply not quite right. More shops. More fitting rooms. More frustrations.
By this point, I’m beginning to wonder whether this date is worth the logistical operation required to prepare for it.
Fortunately, after my nail appointment, luck finally decides to show up. I find a pair of shoes that are exactly what I was looking for.
At last.
Maybe the universe isn’t completely against me after all.
As the afternoon comes to an end, I realize that despite all the stress, delays, shopping disasters and unexpected detours, everything has somehow come together.
The outfit is ready, the shoes are ready, the nails are done and the hair looks good.
Excitement.
Because now there is only one thing left to do: actually go on the date.
Once I got home, I showed my husband everything I had bought for the date. He looked at me with a smile and said, “Yeah, it looks good on you. You’re definitely dressed appropriately for the occasion.”
That was all the approval I needed.
With that settled, it was time to get ready properly.
And honestly, that’s always one of the strangest parts for me.
There I was, standing in our bathroom, doing my makeup, fixing my hair, adjusting my dress – getting myself ready for a date with another man- while downstairs my family was simply having dinner like it was the most normal evening in the world.
That contrast always hits me.
On one hand, there’s the ordinary comfort of home, routine, family, safety.
On the other hand, there’s this secret world of excitement, tension, fantasy and unpredictability waiting for me outside the front door.
And somehow…both worlds belong to me.
By the time I was finally ready, I could feel the stress building properly.
Not just nerves. Real tension.
Because this wasn’t just another date.
This was a new man an overnight stay, hours together and no easy escape if the chemistry was wrong.
And that reality suddenly felt very big.
On top of that, I’m an emotional mess on the best days, so naturally all of that chaos was swirling around in my head too.
I wanted this. I really did. But in that moment, standing there completely ready, it all felt like a lot.
Too much, almost.
Still…there was only one thing left to do. Time to go.
When I arrive at the hotel, I had to search for the parking area for a moment. Apparently, a parking space had been reserved of me, so I quickly checked at the lobby to make sure.
Luckily, it was all arranged.
Small relief.
When I walked into the suite, I was the first one there. That gave me just enough time to quickly take a photo for my husband before everything started.
I was incredibly nervous.
Standing there alone in that suite, my thoughts immediately started racing. What am I doing here? Who is about to walk through that door? Can I actually do this?
Then I heard the elevator.
My heart skipped.
I quickly messaged hubby: I hear the lift. I’m going offline now.
My God.
A second later, the door opened. Immediate relief. My Bull was attractive. Clean-cut and confident. Exactly the kind of man I could genuinely feel drawn to.
Okay…this suddenly became a lot more interesting. And also a lot more dangerous.
I greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. My Bull smiled and immediately asked, “would you like something to drink? Wine?”
Wine sounded like an excellent survival strategy at that point and before I could even fully process what was happening, he disappeared again to get it.
I stood there for a second thinking: My God…what is happening?
I spotted a mirror, checked myself one more time, fixed my hair and quickly sent my husband another message letting him know everything was okay and that my date had gone to get the wine.
Almost as quickly as he had disappeared, he was back.
We sat together on the couch, sipping wine easing into conversation. The first few minutes felt surprisingly comfortable. He asked whether I had managed to sort out the problematic situation form earlier that morning and I laughed, telling him that yes, after all the chaos, I had finally figured it out.
Then, quite casually, he looked at me and said that we should probably finish our wine downstairs instead.
Because apparently…he had ordered a taxi.
That immediately caught me off guard. A taxi? Where exactly were we going?
By the time we got downstairs, the taxi was already waiting and before I could fully think it through, we were stepping inside.
I still had my live location sharing turned on for my husband, which gave ma a little extra peace of mind while we drove. The taxi headed south through the city and I still had no idea where we were going.
Eventually, we stopped at a charming restaurant.
At first glance, it looked cozy. At second glance? It looked packed. And warm. Very warm.
We were shown to a tiny table tucked away in a corner, which immediately presented a practical problem: I was basically trapped. To get out, I would have to perform some kind of advance gymnastics routine involving at least three other tables.
Not ideal.
To make matters worse, we were seated next to each other instead of across from one another.
Also not ideal.
At least not for my usual playful “accidental” opportunities.
My Bull ordered some bread and white wine for us, while we started talking more seriously. He told me about his work, his friends, his hobbies – slowly painting a clearer picture of who he was.
The more he talked, the more relaxed I started to feel.
But there was still one major problem: I needed to go to the bathroom.
Badly.
The restaurant was so crowded that leaving the table would mean squeezing past everyone around us. And suddenly another thought hit me…my dress.
I was almost certain it had shifted upward while sitting. Which meant that if I stood up right now, there was a very real chance my thong – and probably half my ass – would be fully visible to hold the restaurant.
Funny? Yes. Elegant? Absolutely not.
And tonight, I was trying to aim for chique, not public wardrobe malfunction.
So now I was stuck.
Literally.
Waiting for the table blocking my escape route to leave.
Not exactly the glamorous situation I had imagined.
Finally, the table behind me left.
Freedom.
I grabbed my bag and made my escape to the bathroom as quickly – and as elegantly – as possible. The moment the door closed behind me, I immediately grabbed my phone and messaged hubby.
I wasn’t loving how awkward the evening was unfolding.
Not bad, not unsafe, not unpleasant, just…clumsy.
Everything felt slightly off. The cramped table, the heat, the lack of privacy, the strange pacing of the evening. It all felt less smooth than I had imagined.
I quickly took a selfie for my husband, partly to reassure him and partly to remind myself that at least I still looked good despite the chaos.
After fixing my dress and checking myself one more time, I walked back into the restaurant.
Neither of us wanted dessert.
Which honestly felt like a relief.
That meant we could move on.
And apparently, “moving on” meant another taxi. Because the next stop was the city center. He wanted to go to a bar. Fine.
At this point, I was already committed to the adventure, so why not?
Besides, I had been drinking slowly and carefully all evening, so I still felt completely in control.
We stepped outside, another taxi was already waiting.
Again.
Clearly, this Bull did not leave much to chance.
A few minutes later, we were dropped off on a street corner in the city center. Together we started walking past one bar after another, the streets alive with people, music, laughter and that chaotic energy only city nightlife can create.
For the first time that evening, I started wondering where exactly this night was going to end.
He found us a table outside on the terrace of a bar.
We sat down and without even asking, he ordered two more glasses of white wine.
At this point, I had started to notice a pattern.
While we sat there, he looked at me and told me he found my intelligence attractive. That caught me off guard a little. It’s always nice when a compliment goes beyond appearance.
But then came the warning.
He told me he couldn’t drink too much and that we absolutely had to be back at the hotel by midnight. Otherwise, according to my Bull, he wouldn’t “perform” well later.
Fair enough.
But in the same breath, he also admitted that once he’s in a bar heaving a good time, he’s in a bar and having a good time, he’s almost impossible to get out again.
Apparently, very few people manage to drag him away once he settles in.
And immediately I thought: Well…that sounds like an interesting challenge.
Because honestly, the last thing I wanted was to still be sitting in some crowded bar at four in the morning while wearing heels and pretending this counted as romance.
Meanwhile, he casually chatted with the owner like they’d know each other for years. He greeted random strangers who sat down nearby, effortlessly slipping into conversations as if the entire place was his living room.
It became obvious pretty quickly that this was his territory.
He told me more about his upbringing, his routines and how he always ends up here after football matches.
Watching him there, completely in his element, was interesting. There’s something attractive about seeing someone in a place where they feel fully comfortable.
Then I looked at the time. Almost midnight.
Exactly the moment I had promised myself I’d remind him that it was time to head back to the hotel.
At that exact moment, he looked at his watch too. Then he smiled at me and said: “just a little longer.” I sighed internally. Okay then.
“Can I kiss you?” He asked.
Well…that was kind of the point of the evening, wasn’t it? So I nodded. He leaned in and kissed me. Just a small kiss. Nothing dramatic, nothing overwhelming, just enough to make the tension between us suddenly shift.
My Bull pulled back, looked at me with a grin and said: “well…she can kiss too.”
And then, almost immediately: “Come on. Let’s go back to the hotel.”
Wait. What? It worked. I had actually done it. I had managed to get him out of the bar. I felt strangely victorious.
We stood up, left the terrace behind and walked toward the taxi rank. Luckily, there was already one waiting. Perfect. Back to the hotel we went.
And now? The real question was what the rest of the night would bring.
When we arrived back at the hotel, I followed him toward the elevator. My mind was racing a little again now that night was shifting back into private territory.
Before we stepped into the suite, I told my Bull I needed to use the bathroom first. He smiled and pointed me toward my own bathroom in the suites I could freshen up and take my time.
That small gesture actually felt thoughtful.
Once inside, I locked the door, took a breath and immediately messaged my husband. That moment alone always grounds me.
I freshened up, fixed my hair, checked my makeup and looked at myself in the mirror. But instead of feeling calmer, my mind started spinning again.
This is always the hardest part. Not the date itself. Not the flirting. Not the excitement. But managing the emotions. The balance. The responsibility.
I hate the idea of hurting my husband, making him feel excluded or causing him pain. No matter how much we choose this together, those thoughts never completely disappear. Sometimes, while I’m out with another man, it all feels like a lot to carry at once.
The excitement, the guilt, the adrenaline and the love. All mixed together. And in moments like this, standing alone in a hotel bathroom, I feel the weight of all of it.
I want this.
But I also want him to feel safe in it. That matters to me more than anything.
So after sending him my message and taking one last breath, I looked at myself in the mirror and reminded myself: You’re okay. Hubby knows. He’s with you in this.
And with that thought, I opened the bathroom door and stepped back into the night.
I took off my dress first, leaving only the slip underneath and kicked off my pumps. Somehow that small act alone made everything feel more real. I was ready to go back into the bedroom.
When I walked in, my Bull was lying on his side, pretending to be asleep.
“Oh, come on…behave yourself,” I laughed.
I claimde onto the bed beside him, knelt down and gently rolled him onto his back before leaning in to kiss him.
His kissing was…a little unusual. A bit like Bull number five. Very enthusiastic. A little too much pointed tongue. Not exactly elegant, but somehow endearing in its own strange way. It didn’t bother me though. Not everyone can be brilliant at everything.
And honestly, that’s part of dating Bulls too – discovering all the little quirks, habits and imperfections that make someone themselves.
Some charming. Some funny. Some…memorable.
I can feel how turned on he’s getting and it doesn’t take long before this cock is hard. He clearly like my presence, letting his hands roam all over my body. I can hear his heavy breathing and that tells me he’s completely caught up in his own excitement.
I slip off my underdress. “Stop that,” het says – but in a good way. It’s obvious he finds my lingerie incredibly sexy and it only makes him even more excited.
We kiss and his hand slips inside my thong. His fingers find my clitoris and start teasing me. Okay…that does feel incredibly good.
While he fingers my pussy, I take hold of his cock. It’s big and I have a feeling I’m definitely going to feel my pussy stretch while he fucks me.
I take his cock into my mouth. My Bull moans loudly and it’s obvious he’s enjoying me sucking his cock. He’s incredibly turned on by what I’m doing. His cock is bigger than the others and I can tell straight away that taking it deeply in my throat isn’t going to be easy.
My Bull likes it when my fingers brush over his balls. He keeps saying, “Oh yes…fuck…that feels so good. Damn, you’re naughty. Keep going.” I keep teasing him, drawing him wild by switching between gripping him and letting my fingers trail over his balls.
He fingers my pussy firmly and it feels so incredibly good. I realize this Bull is genuinely very skilled at this sort of thing and makes me think that my poor husband misses the mark with me far too often.
My Bull wants to fuck my married pussy, so I lie back and let him take control. When he slides his cock inside my pussy, I can feel the stretch immediately. He starts fucking hard and fast and I can’t help but wonder how long he’ll be able to keep up this pace. Maybe longer that I expect.
I let him do his thing because it feels really good. He tells me how good my pussy feels. That’s what they all say – every man that fucked me says the same. And now my new Bull clearly feels it too.
He keeps fucking the hard, fast rhythm for quite a while and then I see the expression on his face change. I can tell he’s about to climax. He moans loudly, then collapses beside me on the bed, completely spent.
My Bull needs a moment to catch his breath. Well done, I think to myself. It’s funny to realize how many men hardly get this kond of excitement at home and then get the chance to enjoy the attention of a married hotwife like me. It’s always an incredible satisfying and hot experience and my Bulls fully enjoy the thrill of claiming this married woman and her pussy as their own.
He lies down beside me and our bodies tangle together. In that moment, we find a kind of closeness and affection and that’s exactly what turns me on so much. Normally, this is the kind of intimacy you’d only share with your husband. But I share it with more than one man.
I’m lying naked in his arms, my pussy pressed against his leg. It flees incredibly comforting – almost as if I belong to him.
My Bull tells me he wants to fuck me again in a little while, because his cock recovers quickly. Fine my me, I think.
I head to the bathroom for a moment and send hubby a photo of my cum filled pussy with the message: “ I’ve been fucked and I’m very good at being a slut wife!”
“That’s my wife. Proud!” He replies.
I head back to the room. My Bull is lying on the bed and I lie down beside him.
“I’m not leaving early tomorrow,” he says. “I’m going to fuck you again in the morning.”
He turns onto his side and gives me a kiss. I take it as a sign that he wants to fuck me again. We kiss and I let his ands explore my body – over my tits, down my pussy and across my ass.
My Bull asks if he can lick my ass. I tell him yes. He starts by kissing en licking my pussy, telling me how good my wet pussy taste. Then he parts my cheeks and taking his time exploring my asshole.
With his fingers, he opens my asshole and uses his tongue as deeply as he can making sure I feel every moment of it. My husband is not allowed to do this with me and yet here I am, letting another man explore my ass like this while I lie there, completely overwhelmed by how much I’m enjoying it.
Sorry, sweetheart…but these little getaways are basically my solo exploration missions. Someone has to do the research. And somehow these tips do tend to get a bit more interesting when other men are part of the adventure. Far more interesting
I climb on top of his cock and ride him with all the energy I’ve got. My Bull clearly loves it. For a moment I almost worry I’m being too rough, but judging by his reaction, he’s enjoying every second of it.
My Bull tells me he doesn’t want to come inside my pussy, so we with to using my hands instead. I slide off him, stay close and wrap my hand around his cock, working him while still straddling him.
He moans and pants, clearly enjoying it. It doesn’t take long before he can’t hold back anymore and finishes in my hands. I can feel the tension in his legs as he lets go.
“You’re honestly like something out of a porno,” he says. He clearly enjoyed it. And now…he’s exhausted. Me too.
One more bathroom break, one more message to hubby.
By now it was late, and honestly, I assumed he would already be asleep. But to my surprise, he replied almost immediately, telling me he liked the idea of me spending the night with another man.
That made me smile.
Even from a distance, hubby was still part of this with me.
After that, I climbed back into bed and curled up against my Bull, settling into his arms while waiting for him to fall asleep.
That might be one of the strangest but nicest parts of these overnights – the calm after all the chaos. Just warmth, closeness and silence.
Lying there, I realized something.
As wild and unconventional as this all may seem from the outside, the game itself – the excitement, the tension, the stories, the balancing of emotions – it fits me in a way I never expected.
And maybe that’s the strangers truth of all: I’m actually really good at this. And more importantly…I genuinely love it.
I can’t fall asleep straight away, so I rest my hand on my Bull’s cock and think about how my husband is lying alone in bed, while I’m here beside another man who just had is cock in my married pussy.
Then at 5:00 a.m., my Bull suddenly woke up.
Without saying a single word, he got out of bed and walked straight to the shower.
What a strange man, I thought to myself.
While he was gone, I quietly messaged my husband for a bit. The early morning silence felt oddly peaceful and it was nice to reconnect with him after the long night.
But before I could really settle into that moment, my Bull unexpectedly walked back into the room and I quickly put my phone away.
“Good morning,” I said.
He claimde back into bed beside me as if waking up at five and taking a random shower was the most normal thing in the world.
“Was the shower nice?” I asked hom.
What I really wanted to ask was: Why on earth did you go showering at five in the morning?
But I stopped myself. Then I figured it out. He probably always showers at five. Routine. One of those fixed habits people carry around with them no matter where they are. That somehow made it even funnier.
Here we were, in the middle of a very unconventional overnight and this man was still running on his normal weekday schedule like he had an 8:00 a.m. meeting waiting for him somewhere.
My Bull looked at me and kissed me.
That was enough for me to understand: apparently, the morning wasn’t over yet.
One of the curtains was still open – we had completely forgotten to close it the night before. My Bull got up and quietly pulled it shut before climbing back into bed.
That made me wonder.
Did he feel uncomfortable with the room filling up with daylight? Or dit daylight simply remind him too much of normal life – work, responsibilities, routine?
Either way, I let him do whatever made him feel comfortable.
That’s one thing I’ve learned: everyone has their own habits, their own little rituals, especially in moments like these.
And maybe that’s part of the fascination too – not just discovering someone physically, but seeing all the strange little ways they move through life.
The room grew darker again, quieter too, as if the outside world had been shut out for just a little longer.
And for a moment, it felt like time had paused again.
My Bull says he just wants me to finish him off with my hands this time. Apparently, that’s enough for him and he clearly enjoys it. He moans, louder and louder, until he finally climaxes and squirts his cum over the two of us.
I can’t help but think to myself, well…that shower was pointless then, wasn’t it?
Before long, my Bull falls asleep again, Fine by me – that gives me a moment to myself. I gather what’s left of his cum on my skin with my fingers and let them slide into my pussy.
There it is – still a little cum of another man left inside my pussy after all. That thought alone turns me on so much.
My fingers trace over my clitoris before sliding deep inside my soaking pussy. First one, then two and before long three fingers are mowing slowly in and out of my pussy make me go crazy.
At the same time, my other hand slips between my cheeks and two fingers slide inside my asshle, adding to the rush of it all.
My God…here I am, a married mother, lying naked in bed beside another man, touching myself while replaying everything I did with this man last night in my mind.
Before I knew it, I came hard, squirting. So much fluid poured out of my pussy all at once.
As I lay there trembling afterward, I realized something. I don’t want just one man. As deeply as I love my husband and as much as I want to grow old with him, I’ve come to accept that I want more than one man in my life during our marriage.
I want to be desired by many men – to feel their attention, their hunger and the thrill of giving myself over to those moments, letting them enjoy me just as much as I enjoy them.
I want to be their sextoy – their slut. And especially have their cum in and all over my body.
Now it’s time to shower, say goodbye to my Bull and head home.
And then…tell my husband what his wife has become: A complete slut – addicted to sex with other men. That’s what I’ve become.
I can’t help but smile to myself. What a woman I’ve turned out to be. Lucky him.