HOTWIFE | EROTICA

They Call Him ‘Errol’, I call him ‘Mr. Flynn’— Choosing My New Bull

I waited for him to touch me, kiss me, do anything that normal men did before fucking me. But he casually unbuckled his belt, unzipped his trousers, and revealed his monster cock.

Image licenced from Pexels

I hadn’t lied. My husband was the largest man I’d known … until Mr. Flynn. No wonder they called him Errol.

I read the text twice before responding to my advertisement.

He knew me by reputation, but I knew nothing about him — other than he was another single father who wanted a reason to smile after handing back their children. I could call it ‘Funky Friday Night’ or ‘Sexy Sunday’, or even ‘Spank me Wednesday’. It didn’t matter what I called it, as long as one of them called me, and came for me.

My husband was away, working in the mines, and unavailable to meet my needs.

Becoming a hotwife had been his idea and he only had one rule — the guy had to fuck me in our spare bedroom where cameras recorded every angle. If my husband couldn’t watch the livestream, he’d watch it later.

I never asked if he invited friends to watch. I didn’t care.