Got It for Myself
I Got It for Myself
Doc Hauke
Speaking to this youngster was a gamble. Maybe he didn't hear you in the loud, thumping musical background.
"Hey," he says back to you.
The large, young bull's forehead has a white patch in the middle, otherwise it looks brown. You have to guess because it's dim, only flashes of light punctuating the dark indoors at night.
All the kids here at the club have glowing sticks, but you are without one. It's not only that's setting you apart-- your face, unhappy face, carrying the burden of your age. You're not that much older but you feel so much older that it's useless to try to explain it. But he's here too.
He's as young as any here. He's young, but not a calf. Like many bulls, he's got a ring hanging in his nose and it looks like gold. "I got it for myself," he says. "It doesn't mean anything."
His jaw moves slowly up and down, chewing, as he looks you over from top to bottom. "Never been with another bull before," he says. "I've been curious." He shrugs and keeps chewing his cud.
You tell him that you live close by; you and he wouldn't even have to drive to get there. You could walk through the dim streets together and be at your home quickly.
"I'm not with anybody; I need to be home tomorrow by nine. Can I stay with you?"
Your heart leaps and soars, and for the first time that evening, the corners of your mouth turn up slightly in a smile. He smiles back, and the two of you leave together. You make a nice couple; he's almost as tall as you. His horns and yours are about the same angle, same size; you also have a patch in the middle of your forehead. You're a nice couple with plans of coupling. It's like he reads your mind, slipping his hand behind your waist and hugging you a little on the way outside.
The walk through the briskly cold night air makes you feel even more wide awake, and you gaze at him when you can; he says something funny and you laugh, lean your head and knock your near horn against his. Both of you chuckle lowly, and he slips his hand across your tail, then into your pocket, letting you put your arm around his shoulders and keep him close by.
You aren't seen; if you had kept your head you wouldn't have gone parading through your neighborhood with your new young male catch for all to see. But luck is on your side, it's been on your side since you saw him. And soon you'll see all of him and do more than see and listen; you'll touch, smell, taste, and know all of his body.
You trot up the stairs and he follows shortly after, occasionally patting your butt and laughing "Moo!" You fumble with the keys to your little apartment just down the block from the club.
He walks in first as you hold the door. "So," he says, suddenly looking shy, he's an almost different bull. "So...I guess," he says but doesn't finish. It's even more endearing.
You ask if he really has never done anything like this?
"No," he says. Without looking at you, he steps forward, leaning down, and nuzzles across your chest.
You eagerly reach down the back of his shirt collar, eager to touch his back, his shoulders, any part of his masculine bull body.
He sighs softly; then moans with a "moo". "Please take them off for me."
With a grunt, you pick him up. He makes a surprised laugh, then smiles with his eyes closed as you carry him to your inner sanctum, your private place, decked out mostly for your own benefit but now to secretly hide him alone with you until the morning when he has to go.
You set him down on his back, across the broad bed, sturdy enough for even the likes of you and him. Carefully and slowly you undo the buttons on his shirt, the zipper on his shorts, pulling them down as he cooperates by lifting his hips slowly. His cock is revealed in this way, with his wonderfully-smelling sac. You bury your snout between his legs and lick along his balls, and up the bottom of his sheath, and rumble lowly to him.
Standing, you begin to disrobe and he watches you. You ask him what he'd prefer to do, or if there's anything in particular he'd like to experiment with.
"I want to do what you just did," he says. "I've fucked some cows, and a few other things, and I've been sucked off before, but I've never..." he trails off, just watching you remove your pants. You've been hard since you and he left the club. He must have noticed and known this, but seeing you revealed adds a new dimension to what he has decided to do; it makes it more real. Seeing is believing. "I want to suck on that," he says.
You crawl onto the bed and straddle his head, your cock dangling above his nose with its ring. His own crotch is under you, as you too feel a need to suck on a bull cock. You continue what you started: licking him slowly and encouraging his erection forward. He licks tentatively; then explores the head of your cock with his lips. A low moan escapes you as he takes it inside, past his teeth, and presses you between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. You pause, giving him a few directions, and moaning again as he gets it perfectly right--then it's time to return to giving him a different type of attention.
He does need occasional prodding and guidance, but he's a natural cocksucker. You've been doing this for years, and you know how to give a guy a good time, every time; but, getting too busy with him makes him forget what he's doing. He'll stop, merely holding your cock in his mouth; then he'll start moaning and moving his head back and forth, gripping either the sheets of your bed or the fur on your thighs, or your tail, squeezing hard and pulling as he gets more and more excited. If you back off, he remembers what he wanted to do and meekly starts sucking on you again.
The last time he forgets what he's doing, you decide to just finish him off; you prolong it skillfully without letting him think too much about what he's NOT doing to you, and it isn't long before your talents bring him too far over the edge. He grips your hips and hugs you close against him, spreading his legs and almost squealing with delight and glee at the wonderful feeling you've given to him. You're rewarded with his semen for a meal; a very thin broth but what it lacks in viscosity is made up for in volume. You're swallowing, swallowing, trying to catch a breath through your nostrils as quickly as you can to swallow some more, keeping his cock deep inside your mouth.
His grip loosens and he kisses the tip of your neglected cock. "I could..." he starts, but you shush him, climb around, and settle against him, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. He rolls on to his side, facing toward you, and nuzzles your shoulder, then your neck. You gladly let him, and turn your head slightly as he cranes his neck to reach your muzzle. The gold ring brushes against your nose, and your tongues touch lightly, then more firmly as you kiss.
This goes on for quite a while, never getting intense, never leading anywhere. Your arousal subsides slowly, another side effect of your age. He dozes off, and you follow shortly.
The next morning, you're alone. There's a note, signed -JS but no other name or number, nothing. You think of that young bull, and his ring. "It doesn't mean anything; I got it for myself."