She’s Got Me Begging for Her Bull Again

The memory of his words still stings, a bitter reminder of the void he’s left in our bed. ‘Honey, why aren’t we having sex anymore?’ he asked, his voice dripping with a mocking innocence. It’s like he’s trying to push me into the arms of another man, someone with a cock so huge it’ll make me forget his pathetic attempts. I can almost feel the weight of a stranger’s body on mine, his thick shaft filling me completely, unlike the half-hearted thrusts of my husband. Remember? Just like last time, when I found a perfect bull to satisfy my needs. The thought of it makes my pussy throb, aching for the kind of rough, desperate fucking that only a real man can provide.

Desperate for a Man Who Can Fulfill Me

And now, here I am, lying in this soft, dimly lit room, my lingerie barely concealing my need. My arms, torso, and legs are exposed, begging for the touch of a man who knows how to use his hands, his mouth, his cock. The neutral walls and diffused lighting can’t hide the intensity of my desire. I’m so needful, so desperate, that I’m willing to find a perfect man with a huge cock and fuck him instead of my husband. It’s not just about the sex; it’s about the power, the control, the sheer animalistic pleasure of being taken by a man who knows how to dominate. I’m a hotwife, and I need a bull to satisfy my deepest, darkest cravings. Remember? Just like last time, when I found a perfect man to fuck me senseless. That’s what I need again, and I won’t settle for less.