Photographs for A Bull

The first time I saw his profile on FetLife, something about him stood out from the usual crowd. He was straight, which was unusual enough for the dungeon scene, but there was an intensity in his eyes that seemed to leap through the screen—a raw, predatory hunger that promised pleasure and pain in equal measure. When he messaged me asking about attending one of the men-only dungeon events where I sometimes work, my own dick twitched with interest.

"We're open as long as you come with an open mind," I replied, already imagining what this specimen of masculinity would look like restrained and vulnerable in our space. I expected the usual bravado or nervous questions that often came from newcomers to the scene.

His response surprised me. "I won't be able to make it tonight," he texted back. "I'm waiting on a client who's running late, pushing my schedule back. I wanted to let you know rather than just not showing up."

That simple courtesy went a long way with me. In a world where flaking was common, this man understood basic respect. My mind raced, imagining what kind of "client" had him waiting—probably some desperate housewife looking to be properly fucked while her pathetic husband watched from the corner.

Curious, I scrolled through his photos. Beautiful man, probably in his early 40s, with a rugged handsomeness that spoke of confidence and experience. His body was impressive—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, muscles defined but not bulky, the kind of physique that comes from real work rather than endless gym sessions. But what really caught my attention was his enormous cock, prominently displayed in several shots. It was thick and veiny, with a beautiful mushroom head that made my mouth water. Even soft, it looked substantial, and I could only imagine what it looked like fully erect.

His profile made it clear he was into the bull and cuckold scene – fucking other men's wives while the husbands were forced to watch. The humiliation aspect was clearly part of the thrill for him, especially when he mentioned enjoying having the cuck clean them up afterward. I imagined him standing over some pathetic husband, his massive cock dripping with another man's wife's juices, demanding to be cleaned. The thought sent a jolt straight to my own groin.

"You need some new photographs," I messaged him, my fingers already anticipating touching that magnificent body. "If you're interested, I'd be happy to take them for you."

I sent him a couple of samples of men I'd photographed recently, and he was immediately interested. "I can set up an appointment next week," I offered.

"Well, what about today? Can't I just come over today?" he responded, his eagerness palpable even through text.

After giving him an excuse about already being busy, he replied, "But I need to get off."

I had to laugh at his directness. "You're talking to a white man in his 60s. I do not fit into the demographic that you're showing on your FetLife."

"You're only looking at one of my profiles. You're going to have to dig for the other one," he replied cryptically, making me wonder what other secrets he was hiding.

We made an appointment for the following Tuesday, each day leading up to it filled with fantasies of what might transpire.

Tuesday arrived, and right on schedule, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find the man from the photos even more impressive in person. He stood well over six feet tall, filling the doorway with his broad frame. He wore a simple black t-shirt that stretched across his muscular chest and jeans that hugged powerful thighs. His presence was commanding, a confident energy that immediately put me at ease while simultaneously making me slightly nervous. His eyes were even more intense in person, a deep brown that seemed to see right through me, to the dirty thoughts I'd been having about him since we first connected.

"Welcome," I said, stepping aside to let him in, my eyes involuntarily dropping to the prominent bulge in his jeans before meeting his gaze again. "I'm glad you could make it."

"I wouldn't miss it," he replied with a smile that revealed perfect white teeth against his tanned skin. "Your work is impressive." His voice was deeper than I'd imagined, a rumbling baritone that vibrated right through me.

I led him into my studio space, where I had the lighting set up and the backdrop ready. "I was thinking we'd start with some shots that capture your strength and presence," I explained, already feeling a stirring in my own pants. "Then we can move into more intimate territory if you're comfortable with that."

"Whatever you think is best," he said, his eyes already scanning the room with that predatory intensity I'd noticed in his photos. "You're the artist here."

I didn't even ask him to remove his shirt and pants. He just did it. He stood there in his tight white underwear, with that python barely contained. I had him start with some standing shots, his muscular frame looking powerful against the simple backdrop. His confidence was evident in every pose, his body language speaking of someone completely comfortable in his own skin.

"These are good," I said, reviewing the images on my camera, though my mind was already on what came next. "But I'd like to enhance the definition a bit. Would you be comfortable if I applied some oil to your body?"

"Whatever you need," he replied with a shrug that made his pecs bounce distractingly.

I warmed the oil in my hands before beginning to apply it to his chest, my fingers tracing the contours of his muscles. His skin was warm beneath my touch, and I could feel the slight hitch in his breathing as my hands moved across his torso. I worked methodically, covering his arms, his back, his legs, trying to maintain a professional demeanor despite the growing tension in the room and my own growing erection.

The oil made his skin gleam under the lights, highlighting every ridge and valley of his musculature. He was truly magnificent, a specimen of masculine beauty that my camera was having trouble capturing adequately. As I worked my way around to his front again, I couldn't help but notice the growing bulge in his underwear, a clear indication that my touch was affecting him.

"I think we need something more intimate now," I said, my voice slightly hoarser than I intended. "Would you be comfortable removing your underwear?"

He complied without hesitation, revealing that impressive cock that had caught my attention in his photos. It was even more impressive in person, thick and long even in its semi-aroused state, with a beautifully shaped head that was already glistening with pre-come. I had to resist the urge to drop to my knees right then and there.

"Beautiful," I murmured, adjusting the lighting to better capture him. "Now I need you to get into a more vulnerable position. On your knees, facing away from me, but looking over your shoulder."

He moved gracefully, settling onto his knees on the soft mat I'd placed on the floor. The position highlighted the muscular curve of his ass while allowing me to capture the tension in his upper body as he turned to look at the camera. His ass was perfection—firm, round, with just enough hair to make it masculine and inviting. I could already imagine spreading those cheeks and burying my face between them.

"I'm having some trouble," he said after a few more shots, his voice strained with a frustration that was both genuine and incredibly arousing. "Getting fully hard for these. It's not you, it's just performance anxiety."

"I understand," I replied sympathetically, though my own heart was pounding against my ribs. "We can take a break if you need to."

"No, I was wondering if you might be able to help," he said, turning to face me fully. His cock lay thick against his thigh, not yet at its full potential but still impressive, the heavy weight of it a promise of what was to come. "Do you ever cross a professional line with your subjects?"

I lowered my camera, meeting his gaze directly. "Not until the photographs are done," I said with a small smile that was both a boundary and an invitation.

"Fair enough," he replied with a nod of understanding, though his eyes burned with an intensity that suggested he'd heard exactly what he wanted to hear.

I took a few more shots, capturing the raw hunger in his eyes, the vulnerability beneath his confident exterior. The tension between us was palpable now, the air thick with unspoken possibilities, smelling of oil and sweat and raw male desire.

Finally, he set his jaw determinedly. "You're officially done photographing," he announced, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine. "Now get over here and suck my dick."

The professional boundary I'd maintained throughout the session suddenly felt like a fragile wall about to crumble. I placed the camera down carefully, my movements deliberate as I walked toward him. Each step felt charged with electricity, as the afternoon light filtered through the studio windows, illuminating the space where our professional relationship was about to transform into something much more personal and intense.

I knelt before him, looking up at his handsome face as he watched me with those intense eyes. His cock was fully erect now, standing proud and thick, a magnificent specimen that jutted from a nest of dark curls. The head was glistening with pre-come, a bead of it gathering at the slit and threatening to drip down onto his shaft. I wrapped my hand around the base, feeling the heat of him, the pulse of blood beneath the skin, the sheer weight and heft of him in my palm.

"Fuck," he breathed as I leaned forward and took the head into my mouth. His taste was clean and masculine, his skin salty against my tongue. I swirled my tongue around the ridge, probing the sensitive spot beneath the head, making his hips jerk forward involuntarily. I worked him slowly, taking more of him with each movement of my head, my hand stroking what my mouth couldn't yet accommodate, twisting my wrist on the upstroke.

His hands found my hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he guided my movements, his grip firm but not painful. "That's it," he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. "Just like that. Take that dick, show me how much you want it."

I could feel his control beginning to slip as his hips started to move, thrusting gently into my mouth, each movement pushing him a fraction deeper. I looked up at him, watching the raw pleasure contort his handsome face, his eyes closed in concentration as he surrendered to the sensations. His jaw was clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek, and the veins in his neck stood out like cords.

"Take it all," he demanded, his voice thick with desire, a command that vibrated through his shaft and straight to my own leaking cock. I relaxed my throat, suppressing my gag reflex as he pushed deeper, the thick head of his cock breaching the tight passage until my nose was pressed against his coarse pubic hair, his entire magnificent length buried in my mouth. The guttural sound he made, a deep groan of pure satisfaction, sent a thrill straight to my balls.

I worked him with everything I had, my mouth and hands moving in perfect rhythm. I hollowed my cheeks, creating a tight suction as I pulled back, then plunged down again, taking him to the hilt. My tongue pressed against the underside of his shaft, tracing the thick vein as I bobbed my head. His breathing grew ragged, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding, as he chased his release. I could feel him getting close, his body tensing in that telltale way, his balls drawing up tight against his body.

"I'm going to come," he warned, his voice strained as he tried to pull back, a misguided attempt at gentlemanly consideration.

I held him in place, my hands gripping his ass firmly, pulling him deeper as his release flooded my mouth. The first spurt hit the back of my throat, hot and thick, followed by another and another. The taste of him was intoxicating, salty and slightly bitter, and I swallowed every drop, milking him with my hand until he was spent, his cock softening slightly in my mouth.

When he finally pulled away, I looked up at him with a triumphant smile, my lips swollen and glistening. "Not bad for an old guy, huh?"

He laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Not bad at all," he agreed, reaching down to help me to my feet, his hands lingering on my arms. "But I think we're just getting started."

The rest of the afternoon blurred into a haze of pleasure and exploration, as we moved from the studio to my bedroom. His confidence in the dungeon translated to the bedroom, where he took control with an intensity that left me breathless. He was an insatiable lover, exploring every inch of my body with his hands and mouth, his confidence never wavering as he pushed boundaries I didn't know I had.

"You know," he said as we lay tangled in my sheets later, our bodies slick with sweat and come, "I've never done anything like this with a man before."

"Really?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "You seemed so experienced."

He laughed again. "In my own world, maybe. But this... this is something new."

"Good new or bad new?" I asked, turning to face him, my hand tracing the lines of his chest.

"Definitely good new," he replied, his hand tracing patterns on my chest, fingers tangling in my gray chest hair. "Though I'm curious about that other profile you mentioned."

I smiled, knowing exactly what he was referring to. "Maybe I'll show you sometime," I said mysteriously. "If you're lucky."

As he dressed to leave, there was a new intimacy between us that hadn't been there when he arrived. "I think I'm going to need some more photos. Same time next week?" he asked with a grin that promised more of the pleasure we'd just shared.

"I'll clear my schedule," I replied, knowing this was the beginning of something unexpected and exciting.