My Wife’s Bull Hunt: Her Curves, My Submission

She’s out there again, my wife, on another bull hunt. You can tell by the way she’s dressed—those tight shorts, the bustier that barely contains her tits. Her hair’s pulled back in a high ponytail, swinging as she walks. She knows exactly what she wants and just how to get it. Always. I watch from a distance, my heart pounding. Her curves are on full display, those thick thighs and full hips that drive me wild. She’s got that neutral expression, like she’s already won. And she has. She always does. Her boots click on the pavement, echoing her confidence. She’s not wearing any panties under those shorts; I know because she likes to tease me with that. Her ass looks perfect in them, round and firm. She’s ready for her prey, ready to be filled by a bigger cock. I’m just her cuck, watching from the sidelines, always ready to serve her needs. She’s a cum slut, my wife, and she knows it. She loves the chase, the thrill of the hunt. And I love watching her, even if it kills me inside. She’s my everything, and I’m just her beta, her sissy husband. She’s off to find her bull, and I’m here, waiting for her to return, ready to clean up after her. That’s my role, my purpose. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.