Greetings! From the perspective of an experienced bull, I'd like to share the experiences I've had with partners, who are mostly white and from all over the world. It is interesting to read the stories of couples here and how they become a couple with a cuckolding/hotwife fetish. In my case, if I can think or meditate on the fact that this fetish attracts me, but as a bull, I must give credit to the place where I grew up: a tropical town in Southern Mexico, full of people from all over the world all year round, but primarily people from the Global North, mostly Americans, Canadians, and Germans.
The variety of bodies, shapes, and colors you see in a community like that makes you appreciate those differences between cultures and colors that characterize each region of the world. We, the locals, with the sun on us all the time and surfing as a local sport, are, in our youth, lanky, firm, and strong.
"By the time I studied high school, I already knew what a woman was. The heat, the lack of clothing, and the athletic bodies create an environment conducive to the dissipation of shyness. Both locals and visitors, during certain times of the year, practically walk around in their underwear. The irony of this multicultural environment is that, as a local, at a certain age, the native women from my town are not attracted to people like themselves. So, those solid and formidable brown women always ended up leaving the town at some point during high school or dating someone from outside the region, not necessarily a foreigner. In those regions, the white man is often only seen as an easy financial escape.
However, the white women who arrive every year, either alone or with family, are inevitably drawn to the toned, tanned bodies of their Latino hosts. I must clarify that where I come from, there are areas for young people who go with the firm intention of squandering every last penny on alcohol, and older people who go to enjoy villas near the sea with pools in their condominiums.
Since high school age, I began to experiment with foreign women, similar in age and life goals, that is, studying, traveling, etc. Nothing that involved a fetish beyond a teenage romance where they still had to ask their parents for permission. But it was around the second year of high school when, from one day to the next, on the street, in some store, or on the beach, women aged around 30 or more began to catch my attention and I, theirs.
Initially, I enjoyed the friendship of more experienced, worldly people, both men and women, and honestly, I met very endearing people without any connection beyond a conversation, a daily greeting, or perhaps a day at the beach with their children.
It wasn't until that hot summer, when everyone leaves the city, a few tourists wander the empty and scorching streets of the town, and the sea, always terribly strong at that time, is best avoided—even the most experienced swimmers yield to that power—.
On the long walks back home after school days, I would always pass through a subdivision with vacation homes, and always, every day as I went by, there was a kind lady sitting on the stairs with a cold soda, fanning herself in a loose, long dress that she surely wore to keep cool in the face of such tremendous sun.
Every time I walked in front of her door where she sat and where there was a corridor of trees that offered great shade, we would greet each other, always politely, and following the instructions of my upbringing, I spoke to her respectfully and gently. Sometimes the lady was not visible and the house was closed. I never went past that address on weekends, so as you can imagine, she was just an acquaintance from the town, nothing more—I didn't even know her name.
But one day, as I passed by, sweating, overheated, and wearing a sleeveless undershirt that I carried to change into at the end of the day, the kind lady sitting on her porch asked me in Canadian English if I would like a glass of lemonade, which I immediately accepted. Kindness on hot days is not rare; a glass of water is always offered to a neighbor whenever possible.
In that experience, I never interacted with Nancy's husband, only with her, and she was also the one who made me somewhat addicted to that lifestyle. On a subsequent visit of hers, she was also the one who introduced me to more couples and single women, but those stories can wait.
The biggest game we had was when she was totally submissive to me, acting and sounding like a little baby. Having a mature, strong, independent, sexually active woman on all fours in the marital bed, telling me I was her daddy even though she was much older than me, was a feeling I could never let go of.
She invited me into her small garden and told me to wait, sitting under the shade of a mango tree. The small garden was mainly occupied by a medium-sized pool—the dream of anyone in the summer. Nancy, which was her name, brought a large glass of lemonade that I downed quickly, just as I would later drink her sweet juices.
Nancy was married, around 55 years old. She was blonde, with her hair cut short, almost buzzed, which highlighted two blue fireballs that shone with lust when she wanted them to. She had a small, sharp nose, with freckles scattered all over her face, pink lips slightly tilted to the left, which made her smile turn into a naughty way of saying 'I like you.' Her body was thick and generous; one could say she was made for a dark-skinned man. Unlike a Latina, she had round breasts with large, white nipples. Her flesh settled elegantly over her waist, which was, to my surprise, short and flowed into a derriere worthy of the sexiest thongs possible. Although Nancy had everything under that dress at that moment, I still couldn't know it. My mind was working on how to convince Nancy to let me do work around her house in exchange for using the pool.
Nancy was not very difficult to convince. We agreed on certain days to prune the tree, tend the garden, fix some heavy boxes in the house, and do other odd jobs. In exchange, she would let me use her pool at certain times, and I could invite a maximum of three friends. Her husband did not travel with her because he couldn't stand the heat, but she loved it.
A month went by like this, with afternoons at the pool, alone or with friends. Sometimes Nancy was there; other times, she would leave the key to the pool area hidden somewhere, so that if she wasn't around, I could enter and leave whenever I wanted.
On one occasion while cleaning her house, she left her freshly washed clothes drying in her backyard. Part of my tasks, when she was absent, included tidying her house, watering her plants, feeding the fish, and helping out wherever I could. When I took down Nancy's clothes, after folding her dresses and t-shirts, I was surprised to find several tiny, very sexy thongs, babydolls, lingerie, and all sorts of clothes you usually wear with your partner. Knowing that Nancy's husband was not with her, the only option was that she was having an affair. However, none of this bothered me or aroused my curiosity; I just laughed to myself and continued with my activities. For me, at that moment, it was an accidental discovery of the intimate life of an older lady, which I ought to respect and be discreet about.
But one day, a particularly hot one, and without needing to go and help Nancy, I rushed out of school to take a quick dip. I hurried into the yard, I remember the feeling of my school clothes itching under my skin, and the need to take everything off and dive straight into the pool.
When I looked for my swimsuit, I realized I hadn't brought it with me. The only option was to go in with my underwear, but then I wouldn't be able to change out of it and would go home with my school uniform itching me all the way and surely chafing my skin until it became irritated. The other option was to get naked, but before that happened, I peeked into Nancy's house, knocked on the door, checked the back entrance, and everything seemed locked. I looked out on the street for the small Jeep she drove and there was no sign of it. She must have gone to a nearby beach, I thought; it wasn't unusual for her to be away for days. So, I very calmly decided to go in naked, sure that she wouldn't be home anytime soon.
The pool cooled me down. I swam, sunbathed next to the pool completely naked, always attentive to the patio entrance door. The heat, my age, and also the lack of pleasure for several months, kept my big brown banana (see my photos) at a half-erection the entire time and with a significant girth. The sun had also made it tanner than usual.
"At some point, while lying on the edge of the pool sunbathing with my banana almost at full erection, I looked toward the kitchen window that faces the pool, and I realized how Nancy was staring intently at me. Her eyes fixed on me made my erection disappear, and I quickly went for my clothes. Fortunately, Nancy came out, and with a tremendously erotic, kitten-in-heat accent, she invited me into her house and told me it was fine, that she had enjoyed the view. For a few seconds, doubt seized me, but my brain reminded me of those garments I had found days before, and this time, the curiosity attracted me. She had been taking a nap, which is why she didn't answer my calls, and her curvy figure underneath the small nightgown she was wearing was more than obvious.
Upon entering her house, we went straight to her room. She laid me face down, and for the first time, I could appreciate what a hotwife is. That afternoon and the subsequent ones, all throughout that summer, Nancy milked me in every way. She made me hers with her mouth, upon waking and before ....... It was always an obligation to give her all the milk I could produce. The afternoons were endless sessions of all kinds: role-playing, fantasies, and any idea she developed, which she would then recount to her husband over the phone. It was also the first time I understood the dynamic of a cuckolded marriage.
Aquí tienes la traducción al inglés:
"Just as many couples unknowingly fall into this fetish, as a single man, I believe the context where I grew up turns many men into bulls, without them even knowing it. After Nancy, I also became addicted to the contrast between a milk-white vagina and a thick, dark banana, both ruthlessly going in and out. The screams in English, the insults, and that fetish of playing between races is, I think, the most addictive thing, and above all, knowing that every Holy Week, summer, or winter when the delicious white girls—who are daughters, sisters, mothers, and wives—come down, many of them secretly come to fill up on Mexican milk until they can't take any more.
In this paradise, I have seen all kinds of people and met many cuckolded couples. I hope you found this story interesting.
The variety of bodies, shapes, and colors you see in a community like that makes you appreciate those differences between cultures and colors that characterize each region of the world. We, the locals, with the sun on us all the time and surfing as a local sport, are, in our youth, lanky, firm, and strong.
"By the time I studied high school, I already knew what a woman was. The heat, the lack of clothing, and the athletic bodies create an environment conducive to the dissipation of shyness. Both locals and visitors, during certain times of the year, practically walk around in their underwear. The irony of this multicultural environment is that, as a local, at a certain age, the native women from my town are not attracted to people like themselves. So, those solid and formidable brown women always ended up leaving the town at some point during high school or dating someone from outside the region, not necessarily a foreigner. In those regions, the white man is often only seen as an easy financial escape.
However, the white women who arrive every year, either alone or with family, are inevitably drawn to the toned, tanned bodies of their Latino hosts. I must clarify that where I come from, there are areas for young people who go with the firm intention of squandering every last penny on alcohol, and older people who go to enjoy villas near the sea with pools in their condominiums.
Since high school age, I began to experiment with foreign women, similar in age and life goals, that is, studying, traveling, etc. Nothing that involved a fetish beyond a teenage romance where they still had to ask their parents for permission. But it was around the second year of high school when, from one day to the next, on the street, in some store, or on the beach, women aged around 30 or more began to catch my attention and I, theirs.
Initially, I enjoyed the friendship of more experienced, worldly people, both men and women, and honestly, I met very endearing people without any connection beyond a conversation, a daily greeting, or perhaps a day at the beach with their children.
It wasn't until that hot summer, when everyone leaves the city, a few tourists wander the empty and scorching streets of the town, and the sea, always terribly strong at that time, is best avoided—even the most experienced swimmers yield to that power—.
On the long walks back home after school days, I would always pass through a subdivision with vacation homes, and always, every day as I went by, there was a kind lady sitting on the stairs with a cold soda, fanning herself in a loose, long dress that she surely wore to keep cool in the face of such tremendous sun.
Every time I walked in front of her door where she sat and where there was a corridor of trees that offered great shade, we would greet each other, always politely, and following the instructions of my upbringing, I spoke to her respectfully and gently. Sometimes the lady was not visible and the house was closed. I never went past that address on weekends, so as you can imagine, she was just an acquaintance from the town, nothing more—I didn't even know her name.
But one day, as I passed by, sweating, overheated, and wearing a sleeveless undershirt that I carried to change into at the end of the day, the kind lady sitting on her porch asked me in Canadian English if I would like a glass of lemonade, which I immediately accepted. Kindness on hot days is not rare; a glass of water is always offered to a neighbor whenever possible.
In that experience, I never interacted with Nancy's husband, only with her, and she was also the one who made me somewhat addicted to that lifestyle. On a subsequent visit of hers, she was also the one who introduced me to more couples and single women, but those stories can wait.
The biggest game we had was when she was totally submissive to me, acting and sounding like a little baby. Having a mature, strong, independent, sexually active woman on all fours in the marital bed, telling me I was her daddy even though she was much older than me, was a feeling I could never let go of.
She invited me into her small garden and told me to wait, sitting under the shade of a mango tree. The small garden was mainly occupied by a medium-sized pool—the dream of anyone in the summer. Nancy, which was her name, brought a large glass of lemonade that I downed quickly, just as I would later drink her sweet juices.
Nancy was married, around 55 years old. She was blonde, with her hair cut short, almost buzzed, which highlighted two blue fireballs that shone with lust when she wanted them to. She had a small, sharp nose, with freckles scattered all over her face, pink lips slightly tilted to the left, which made her smile turn into a naughty way of saying 'I like you.' Her body was thick and generous; one could say she was made for a dark-skinned man. Unlike a Latina, she had round breasts with large, white nipples. Her flesh settled elegantly over her waist, which was, to my surprise, short and flowed into a derriere worthy of the sexiest thongs possible. Although Nancy had everything under that dress at that moment, I still couldn't know it. My mind was working on how to convince Nancy to let me do work around her house in exchange for using the pool.
Nancy was not very difficult to convince. We agreed on certain days to prune the tree, tend the garden, fix some heavy boxes in the house, and do other odd jobs. In exchange, she would let me use her pool at certain times, and I could invite a maximum of three friends. Her husband did not travel with her because he couldn't stand the heat, but she loved it.
A month went by like this, with afternoons at the pool, alone or with friends. Sometimes Nancy was there; other times, she would leave the key to the pool area hidden somewhere, so that if she wasn't around, I could enter and leave whenever I wanted.
On one occasion while cleaning her house, she left her freshly washed clothes drying in her backyard. Part of my tasks, when she was absent, included tidying her house, watering her plants, feeding the fish, and helping out wherever I could. When I took down Nancy's clothes, after folding her dresses and t-shirts, I was surprised to find several tiny, very sexy thongs, babydolls, lingerie, and all sorts of clothes you usually wear with your partner. Knowing that Nancy's husband was not with her, the only option was that she was having an affair. However, none of this bothered me or aroused my curiosity; I just laughed to myself and continued with my activities. For me, at that moment, it was an accidental discovery of the intimate life of an older lady, which I ought to respect and be discreet about.
But one day, a particularly hot one, and without needing to go and help Nancy, I rushed out of school to take a quick dip. I hurried into the yard, I remember the feeling of my school clothes itching under my skin, and the need to take everything off and dive straight into the pool.
When I looked for my swimsuit, I realized I hadn't brought it with me. The only option was to go in with my underwear, but then I wouldn't be able to change out of it and would go home with my school uniform itching me all the way and surely chafing my skin until it became irritated. The other option was to get naked, but before that happened, I peeked into Nancy's house, knocked on the door, checked the back entrance, and everything seemed locked. I looked out on the street for the small Jeep she drove and there was no sign of it. She must have gone to a nearby beach, I thought; it wasn't unusual for her to be away for days. So, I very calmly decided to go in naked, sure that she wouldn't be home anytime soon.
The pool cooled me down. I swam, sunbathed next to the pool completely naked, always attentive to the patio entrance door. The heat, my age, and also the lack of pleasure for several months, kept my big brown banana (see my photos) at a half-erection the entire time and with a significant girth. The sun had also made it tanner than usual.
"At some point, while lying on the edge of the pool sunbathing with my banana almost at full erection, I looked toward the kitchen window that faces the pool, and I realized how Nancy was staring intently at me. Her eyes fixed on me made my erection disappear, and I quickly went for my clothes. Fortunately, Nancy came out, and with a tremendously erotic, kitten-in-heat accent, she invited me into her house and told me it was fine, that she had enjoyed the view. For a few seconds, doubt seized me, but my brain reminded me of those garments I had found days before, and this time, the curiosity attracted me. She had been taking a nap, which is why she didn't answer my calls, and her curvy figure underneath the small nightgown she was wearing was more than obvious.
Upon entering her house, we went straight to her room. She laid me face down, and for the first time, I could appreciate what a hotwife is. That afternoon and the subsequent ones, all throughout that summer, Nancy milked me in every way. She made me hers with her mouth, upon waking and before ....... It was always an obligation to give her all the milk I could produce. The afternoons were endless sessions of all kinds: role-playing, fantasies, and any idea she developed, which she would then recount to her husband over the phone. It was also the first time I understood the dynamic of a cuckolded marriage.
Aquí tienes la traducción al inglés:
"Just as many couples unknowingly fall into this fetish, as a single man, I believe the context where I grew up turns many men into bulls, without them even knowing it. After Nancy, I also became addicted to the contrast between a milk-white vagina and a thick, dark banana, both ruthlessly going in and out. The screams in English, the insults, and that fetish of playing between races is, I think, the most addictive thing, and above all, knowing that every Holy Week, summer, or winter when the delicious white girls—who are daughters, sisters, mothers, and wives—come down, many of them secretly come to fill up on Mexican milk until they can't take any more.
In this paradise, I have seen all kinds of people and met many cuckolded couples. I hope you found this story interesting.
