The bull fucks Ellen like an artist. He’s a consummate performer, dominating her and humiliating me, but always with a knowing wink. This is a game. A show. A fun time for all of us.

I’m a performer, too–a comedian–and I can appreciate someone who’s honed their craft: the time spent on his muscular physique, his sexual technique, his showmanship. He can give her something that I can’t. Except that I can; I’ve given him to her. Or her to him.

Oh god. I can’t help it; the words are out before I can stop them. “Take my wife, please.”