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  1. #1
    Believe. MultiTroll's Avatar
    My Team
    San Antonio Spurs
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    Developing story.

  2. #2
    Believe. Fat Brandon Bass's Avatar
    My Team
    Phoenix Suns
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    Developing story.
    I got a few DMs asking how I got started as a bull, or for more info on my past experiences. I figured I would provide the origin story and see if anyone has experienced anything similar.
    When I was 23 or 24 I had this coworker, Jennifer, who was in her early 50s and a total Christie Brinkley type. She had the complete milf package, could’ve walked straight off a Vivid set, and she knew it. We kept it very professional in the office but developed a friendship after spending a lot of time alone together in her office working on projects. One day she kept going on and on about how she couldn’t understand how I was single, and that she had a daughter my age who she was concerned about because she was also single and lonely, and how is it that two young attractive people could be single like that, and maybe I’d like to meet her?
    I took the bait and met her daughter, Laura. Laura was 3 years older than me, a grad student, and had just moved back home to save money while completing her studies. Her parents lived on the top two floors of the three floor, two family building, and she lived on the ground floor. Laura was about 5’5” with a fat yet toned ass and a very tasteful pair of C cups. She also had the craziest eyes I’ve ever seen. You could tell there was something intense going on behind them. They actually looked exactly like that Shepard Fairey “Mujer Fatal” image - absolutely stunning in person.
    Laura and I also shared one key passion: booze. Any time we were together, we were drinking. A 12 pack from the store on the way home on a weeknight, a couple bottles of wine on the weekends, tails out at a restaurant, you name it. We both loved to get and keep a buzz going.
    We started ing after the second date, and from there it was like a tornado swept into my life. I was addicted to everything about her. She smelled like a goddess, the pheromones were working overtime. She had the prettiest, tastiest juicy shaved pussy this young man had ever seen, and I would’ve quit my job and licked it 40 hours a week if I could have.
    The sex with Laura was transformative in the sense that before her, I had always been unaware of how ho-hum I was sexually. I had strictly vanilla experiences or drunk one night stands in college, and she explained to me that I was too quiet and reserved during the act. Laura taught me the performative aspects I had been missing: how to make noises that would in turn amplify my partner’s pleasure, how to explore and push more boundaries than simple P-in-V intercourse, how to get rough and assert dominance, how to really open up and explore.
    She was also DTF 24/7 and wasn’t satisfied unless I unloaded in her raw with a lot of dirty talk on a daily basis. On the weekends we’d start drinking at brunch and go at it all afternoon and night. It was just insatiable chemistry. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven.
    We started dating in the spring, so the freight train of sex really took off during the early summer. This meant the ground floor windows were almost always open, as the old prewar building had no central AC or window units. We’d be in there screaming and ming and sweating up a storm with her parents either directly above us or outside in the yard, having to listen to every bit of it. I noticed around this time her dad really seemed cold towards me, and it took longer than it should have for me to put it together, that it was because I was wearing his daughter’s slit out around the clock and she was loving every second of it, begging for more. We made no effort to be discreet about it.
    Now, if this all sounds too good to be true, it turns out it was: Laura had a lot of mental health issues, we were both alcoholics, and the relationship disintegrated just as quickly as it came to be. We broke up and I was really bummed to go from living a life of unlimited first class pussy on demand, to being cut off from the only girl I’d ever really ed like I meant it.
    Just prior to the breakup she had alluded to having serious problems with her parents, her mom in particular, that went back to childhood, and that she wasn’t comfortable living there anymore. She moved out around the same time we broke up and cut off all contact with her family.
    I was still seeing her mom at the office every day, and she invited me into her office to talk about what went down and try to figure out how to help Laura with her issues. We had a long heart to heart about what I had observed and different ideas on how to reach out, get into family counseling and things like that. During that talk her mom admitted that they had overheard “a lot of wild times” throughout the summer and that the passionate screams really made her late 50s, conservative husband blush. I had to laugh and tell her that Laura really taught me a lot about women in a physical sense, and I would forever be grateful for that.
    By this point, Jennifer was getting emotional herself, and moved in for a hug. I pulled her in tight and as I did, I smelled her hair. She used the same shampoo as her daughter! I got an instant hard on. I don’t know if she felt it, but the embrace lasted a little longer than it should have. This was my first sign that something was up.
    About a week later, Jennifer called me into her office on a Friday morning and mentioned that her husband had cleaned out the first floor of their building since Laura had moved out. In the process he came across some of my stuff, and she wondered if I could swing by tomorrow afternoon and pick it up. I said sure, I had no plans, so that Saturday I drove over to their house, a little sad as I parked in the driveway remembering all the times I had eagerly pulled in knowing I was about to get laid so many times before.
    There was no sign of Laura or her stuff anywhere. I walked up the back stairs and knocked on the door to Jennifer and her husband’s entry. Jennifer answered and let me in. She was in workout gear and had just come back from a jog, sweaty and no makeup but still very hot. She told me to hang in the living room while she took a quick shower, and that she wasn’t sure where her husband, Bill, was, but he was probably around somewhere. I took a seat on the couch and waited. The house was quiet.
    About 10 minutes later, I heard the shower turn off, the bathroom door open, and footsteps down the hall. Then I heard Jennifer call my name and ask me to come here for a second. I walked into the bedroom to see her sitting on the foot of the bed, wrapped in a white cotton towel and nothing else. She patted the bed and told me to sit next to her, so I did. My mind was racing at this point. She undid the towel wrap just above her boobs and out flopped her sizable, slightly saggy middle aged s. She asked me if I liked them and I said yes; she asked me if I wanted to touch them and I immediately had my hands wrapped around them, mouth on one nipple. At this point, fresh from a breakup, I was dying for sexual contact, like an addict needing one last fix.
    Suddenly I stopped, looked her dead in the eye, and said “Bill?”. She replied, “Oh honey, he’s ok with this, he lets me have fun with whoever I want, and he gets off on it. After 30 years of marriage, it’s only fair. Don’t worry about him. He knows.” And with that, I was off and running. We went at it for what had to be an hour.
    I worked her body over with all the moves and tricks her daughter had taught me. I remember she came the hardest as I pressed a firm fingertip against her puckered asshole as she rode me. I felt her creamy pussy spasm around my shaft as I filled her and left her laying there in the afternoon sunshine, wet towel still on the floor next to the bed.
    For several months after, Jennifer taught me all about the terms hotwife and cuckold, what it all meant to her, her husband, and how much they appreciated what I was doing for them. Eventually Bill would hang around the house during my visits, listening in, and worked his way into sitting in a chair in the corner watching the action. This made me want to perform even more, and I got really into dominant, powerful, aggressive displays as I’d rough and dirty talk his wife into pure bliss.
    He was obsessed with cleaning her up after I pumped all my in her, like a dog with a bone. He’d get in there with his fingers and tongue and all you’d see from across the room was a pudgy little bald man eagerly slurping my out of his satisfied wife.
    I’ll never forget, this one time he was watching us, his wife moaning my name as I forcefully shoved the head of my into her. I looked up in the moment and made direct eye contact with Bill. The look on his face is still burned into my memory: the extreme arousal coupled with this pathetic sadness, faced with the realization that I had pumped gallons of sperm into his daughter, driven her out of his house and life, and was now pumping the same into his beautiful wife. It actually still makes me laugh to this day. They clearly had some long term, toxic family emotional baggage, but man did they all pitch in to help me figure out my own sexuality. I went from barely knowing how to , to actively seeking out women in committed relationships for mutual enjoyment, at least until I stopped drinking, met my wife and settled down.

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