A cuckold's wife's self-narration

page views:1 Publication date:2022-05-22

After I started accepting single men, I realized that the happiness between men and women could be so simple and pure.

Stripped of social identities, responsibilities, and contracts, when everyone's goal is simply to seek pleasure, reaching a tacit understanding is so easy.

My husband's casually managed Twitter account only occasionally posts revealing photos of me without showing my face, yet it has easily amassed a large following. Especially after posting videos of himself having sex with single men (they call this an "activity") and revealing that this married woman is available for free, he receives a constant stream of private messages every day.

All sorts of men go to great lengths to flatter and fawn over him, readily using terms like "darling," "sweetheart," "baby," "goddess," and "beautiful wife." My husband seems quite happy to handle these situations, and after a busy day of work and life, he still takes the time to communicate with these "candidates." To make management easier, my husband would uniformly change the names of these men to "Twitter ID + Location + Age + Height and Weight + Penis Size," and then change the chat background image to the photos they sent. Every morning, there would be a barrage of greetings, requests for used underwear and stockings, requests for "screen-shooting" (masturbating in front of pictures or videos of me on a screen and then ejaculating), and requests for "photographers" (photographers who can take artistic, explicit photos). But most people were still concerned about when the next "activities" would be. My husband seemed to enjoy this immensely, sometimes sharing anecdotes with me, and jokingly saying, "Look, this is the harem I've built for you. Whatever kind of man you need, I can provide it."

Many of these men also had glamorous social identities, but on my husband's Twitter, they sent their own photos, muscle photos, and genitals, happily sharing my body on the screen, like a group of little boys sharing candy. Everyone has different psychological needs. Some want to gain satisfaction by conquering other men's wives, while others want to bring sexual happiness to women who have suffered from "long-term sexual repression" and gain a sense of salvation. But without exception, these psychological needs ultimately need to be satisfied through sex with me.

Occasionally, I check the comments and private messages and I see how passionate men can be when they lust after your body. Sometimes I wonder if the "pure yet seductive," "long-legged and slim-waisted," "contrast goddess" they fantasize about is really the same person as me, a working-class person who squeezes onto the subway every morning and evening rush hour, racking my brains for promotions and raises.

My first acceptance of a single man was not unrelated to you (I don't mean to blame you at all; I'm an adult, no knife was held to my throat, I chose my own path in life, and the current situation is still under control). On a Friday night when I could work overtime or not, I tried to delay going home and told you about my situation. Although my phone wallpaper's annual plan says "Accompany my husband to experience a more complete and richer life," I still didn't want to contact these men. My intention was to gain your sympathy and pity, but to my surprise, your attitude was not opposed. Your attitude gave me a lot of courage.

So in July, I tried meeting a man born in 1992. He had delicate features, and the QQ account he used to contact my husband was the same one he always used. His personal information, real-name identification documents, and a bunch of award certificates were all openly displayed on his QQ space without any reservations. These details made me feel that he wasn't a very calculating person. Out of caution, I specifically chose to meet him during my period, and I made sure to state beforehand that it was my period. This man didn't seem to mind at all and drove several hours from XX to come over. I didn't say a word during the entire meeting, except for stealing a few glances at him; I didn't even dare to look up. Unlike the experienced man I had imagined, this man was actually quite shy and reserved. Only my husband was relaxed and chatting and laughing at the table. This "trial run" seemed quite successful. After meeting me, the man showered my husband with compliments about my figure and looks on QQ, and seemed eager for the "event" a week later. He readily complied with all of his requests: a medical report within seven days, condoms throughout, two rooms, ample foreplay, and a service-oriented approach (he could stop if I felt uncomfortable). This attentive attitude gave me immense confidence in my charm, leading to the formal date a week later. Out of a desire to avoid the situation, I chose to wear a blindfold the entire time, even wrapping it several times with two stockings to prevent it from slipping off. As my husband helped me shower, dry my hair, put on my lingerie, a robe, and blindfold, and helped me sit on the sofa to wait (I had previously taken a picture of myself kneeling on the floor), after I heard him close the door and leave, the soothing music playing from the Bluetooth speaker couldn't alleviate my tension. I started trembling, and then waves of tears welled up in my eyes. Then I heard the door open, heard them whispering, felt footsteps approaching, and felt a pair of hands clumsily unbuttoning my robe, seemingly trembling. The moment they touched me, I knew it wasn't my husband, but he was definitely in the room. I called for him, wanting to end this quickly. I told him to stop with the toys and foreplay, just do it. Hearing this, my partner carried me to the bed, touched my genitals, and found me soaking wet. He unhooked the clasp of my lingerie (needless to say, my husband had given him that clasp), and thrust in. How can I describe that moment? A wife's traditional physical fidelity was gone, and it had been a long time since I'd felt such a large, hot penis inside me. It was truly humiliating, yet also truly pleasurable. At that moment, I finally admitted that even the most exquisitely designed sex toys couldn't compare to a man's body and warmth. Unable to see, my other senses became even more acute. I could sense his excitement from the range of his movements and the rhythm of his breathing. He constantly checked on my feelings: "Does it hurt? Does it feel good?" Waves of pleasure washed over me, and I heard myself moaning involuntarily. I could also hear the heavy breathing of the man beside me. Strangely, I didn't climax. After the initial confusion subsided, I became increasingly clear-headed, consciously feeling each thrust of his penis, consciously smelling the hotel shampoo on him, consciously touching the fine beads of sweat on his muscular back, consciously feeling his burning ears and face. During this process, my pleasure gradually faded, replaced by a mechanical friction, without discomfort, just mechanical. The urge to finish quickly returned. I could sense he was still very excited, and then he began the performance women excel at—a fake orgasm. Amidst my slightly exaggerated moans, he quickly ejaculated. He kissed me and went to the bathroom, probably to throw away a condom. I guess she was dissatisfied with her performance. After discussing it with my husband, he went back to his room to rest and came back later. When he returned, he was noticeably more relaxed. We tried several positions, and my body gradually adapted to his size. However, although the pleasure was intense, I still couldn't reach orgasm. In the doggy style position, he ejaculated again. Then we took a shower in our room and lay in bed together chatting. Later, my husband told me that he hadn't thrown away the condom in the bathroom before; instead, he had squeezed his semen into the toilet and flushed it away, then threw the empty condom in the trash can. I guess he was still wary of us. To avoid me developing a dependency or feelings because of my "unprofessional" behavior, my husband strictly stipulated that we would only meet once per person. Although we still kept in touch normally afterward, we probably won't see each other again in this lifetime.

Following a three-month schedule, the second meeting was in October, during the National Day holiday after I returned from ××. The man I had originally arranged to meet had something come up at the last minute, which was a relief. However, my husband magically produced several readily available alternatives for me to choose from, which I found quite impressive. This time, I was much more relaxed, so I decided to choose someone young, handsome, and strong. Based on my husband's notes, I selected a 24-year-old, 183cm tall, 79kg, 15cm penis veteran. The photo showed a cheerful young man with a buzz cut. Due to time constraints, the "test" and "pleasure" were combined into one day. Although it was a last-minute replacement, the young man still managed to find time to pick out a lipstick as a gift. He was very youthful and energetic, handsome, and charming, constantly calling me "brother" and "sister-in-law," acting as if he were dedicated to serving the people and willing to die for them. Although it's been several months, the young man's classic line, "Little sister-in-law, don't be shy, everything is up to you. Just treat me like a free gigolo. Your happiness with your brother is my happiness," still makes me chuckle. And the young man really had boundless energy; he was truly "seduced." He initially said he'd only do it once a night, only to realize it meant one night. He eventually gave in and begged for mercy, and afterwards slept for a whole day to recover. For the next few months, my husband constantly teased me about "little sister-in-law," and just hearing it made my legs weak.

The third time was later in January, but due to work, it was delayed until the end of the month. During this time, my husband shared an article analyzing the psychology of cuckoldry or infidelity, mentioning that he also envied women's bodies and, while watching his wife's sexual intercourse, projected his wife's role and experienced her pleasure. Considering his cross-dressing fetish, even using a female profile picture on QQ to communicate with his "candidates," and his initial fantasies including me being trained and humiliated, I roughly got a clue. He said that when he first started working in 2011, he followed a popular Weibo user. Back then, the internet wasn't as restrictive. This user would upload high-definition, uncensored, watermark-free images of aesthetically pleasing bondage, restraint, and SM content to Weibo. He saved many of these images, but eventually, the user's account was banned. When someone with a similar Twitter ID contacted him, he was overjoyed to confirm it was indeed the popular user from ten years ago. I checked his profile; seeing the prominent "S" after his ID and his bio, I knew he would be very happy if I met him. However, the part about "psychological control" in his bio made me very uneasy. I didn't want to experience the pain of being obsessed and dependent on a man again. On QQ, their chats consisted of long paragraphs of text, showing he took us seriously. So, my husband and I decided to meet him at his shop. Before leaving, he even wore the chastity belt and the underwear I hadn't changed for two days, as he had requested. Seeing him happily tidying up the props and even the things for the night, I felt quite relieved; at least he was happy. We were supposed to meet on Saturday afternoon, but I was so nervous at 3 a.m. on Friday that I couldn't sleep. My mind was in turmoil, so I just kept typing and typing and typing. In the afternoon, I pretended to be relaxed and offered to drive. When we arrived at the agreed-upon location, I accidentally scraped a pillar while parking. My husband frowned and gave me a good scolding. I got out and let him take the driver's seat. I sat in the back seat and put on a mask. S got into the back seat and gave me a gift. I said thank you, but he didn't respond. Then he suggested we chat in the car in the parking lot for a while. I could sense that he was noticeably different from the men I'd met before. He wasn't tall, but he had a strong presence and controlled the pace of the conversation. I also sensed a significant change in my husband. In the past, if anyone showed even a hint of arrogance or dominance in front of him, he would immediately become fully alert and unleash his fury if they weren't careful. But today, he didn't seem to mind S's repeated instructions to change parking lots and parking spaces at all. Regarding S's request for me to take off my mask and get out of the car to visit his shop, my husband, unusually, didn't side with me. Despite my repeated resistance, he kept encouraging me to obey. I had no choice but to get out of the car with them, but I insisted on not taking off my mask. After entering the mall, S went back to his shop to handle some things, leaving my husband and me to talk. We wandered around his shop for a while, and my husband said he respected my opinion, but I thought it was worth a try. So, at S's shop, I ordered a hot chocolate and took off my mask. S was very enthusiastic, greeting us while taking out his treasured rare photo album. My husband saw it and chatted with him about the stories behind the pictures from his previous Weibo posts. On the way to dinner, S and I sat in the back seat. S joked with my husband about letting me eat the chocolate-colored dildo while touching my chin with his finger. I said I couldn't find it in my bag, and that I was hungry and needed energy to work. The dinner was quite pleasant. The pork neck at this restaurant was really delicious; I couldn't help but squint and hum happily while it was in my mouth. I saw a rare smile on S's face across from me. After dinner, I went to the restroom. My husband didn't want to go, so he took our bags and coats. When I came out, I found S waiting for me. She touched my waist when she saw me and asked for a hug. Since my husband wasn't there, I instinctively refused. Because we had agreed beforehand that we would only do some light games today and wouldn't have any formal training (but my husband still packed up our things for the night), the day was basically over after I took S back to the shop after dinner. On the way to the car, S told my husband that she wouldn't even hug me when he wasn't there, and my husband chuckled. On the way back, S brought up the chocolate-colored dildo again and started touching me more intensely. When he put his short, stubby fingers in my mouth, I thought of his hands again, and I couldn't hold back the humiliation anymore, so I cried. My husband finally realized things were getting out of hand and told me to stop. I told my husband that I cried because I was thinking about the doctor. They discussed it and said that it wasn't very smart of me to be so dependent on someone I'd never met. My husband said he hated the doctor's pretentious tone of voice, thinking it was childish and an attempt to create a persona. The two men patiently comforted me, saying that shame was part of the fun of discipline. Right there in the car, they continued to caress and comfort me. I actually found myself enjoying their gentle touch. S stimulated my clitoris through my stockings and underwear, and I actually orgasmed. To my surprise, S didn't seem to intend to penetrate me. He seemed to really like my body, constantly having me put me in different positions and taking many nice photos of my legs. Later, with my husband's help, he took off my stockings and underwear, seemingly unable to tear himself away from playing with my body, slapping my buttocks. Strangely, I experienced a kind of sexual pleasure while being slapped. Then they took many more photos and posed me in many different ways, continuing until almost midnight. I should have been exhausted by the time I got home, but I was actually very excited. I didn't want to reply to S's messages, so I kept having my husband reply. Unable to sleep, I entered a very abnormal state. I checked my husband's phone to see if any men were online. I sent a voice message to the guy from Nantong, using the most lewd, provocative, and vulgar language to provoke him, and he replied. I sent him pictures I took that night and some videos from before, telling him how much I missed him and the feeling of his penis penetrating me. He was still full of sweet talk, asking if I wanted to add a voice message. Without thinking, I called directly, and quickly reached orgasm through masturbation under his flattering teasing, then fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up in the morning, I still didn't know how to face S. Later, I saw a few posts on his Twitter account. The pictures were of the street after we left yesterday, my legs and buttocks, and the captions included a satisfied expression while I was eating pork neck and tears suddenly bursting out. Hmm, he must still be satisfied with my body and reaction. After waking up in the morning, I used the techniques I learned from S to "train" my husband, and he seemed to enjoy it immensely. I shared pictures of my husband in a group chat with S and myself. S asked me how I felt yesterday and asked me to write it down. I made an excuse that I was writing another novel. Later, I thought I should be more honest.
I said, "He's very nice, experienced, and technically skilled. But he didn't evoke any feelings of admiration or submission in me. I probably still need that sense of ritual and distance from him, that 'adolescent' or 'persona'."
S said, "That's your feeling about me as a person. I'm asking about your feelings of excitement and sexual stimulation."
I said, "Licking fingers brings pleasure, SP brings pleasure, being touched brings pleasure—these are things I haven't experienced before."
S said, "Yesterday afternoon, I didn't want to take off my mask, but the pleasure I felt in the evening, and later, the willingness to open my legs and cooperate with my movements, getting wet—that's what I like. I used this side of me to let you experience one aspect of me on our first meeting. But later, you'll see different sides, you'll see another side of S. Tell me if you had an orgasm, or anything like that, because these are things you haven't experienced before. I only used 20% of what I taught you. And there's no other kind of training."
I said, "I don't doubt your abilities at all. Often, you surrender not because the other person is so strong, but because you willingly lose, just because you're afraid their victory will be too boring and uninteresting."

The anxiety throughout the process kept me sitting in front of the computer for almost seven hours, typing this out word by word. During that time, I sent the half-finished piece to a male online friend I'd known for over two years, honestly about my experience meeting single men. He'd always known my situation and had always told me to protect my dignity and not do such things, so he was utterly disappointed in my choices. I even considered taking this opportunity to yell at him, to push him away. I didn't need to keep pretending not to see his feelings for me, using his emotions to fill the emptiness in my heart. Judging from his expression, it seemed I couldn't wake him up after all. It seems everyone makes mistakes they knowingly commit.

I can handle everything myself; it's just that a fool needs time to sort out the chaos in his heart. After typing this, I felt much calmer.

You may not know, but you've always been there for me, protecting me in a special way. In my heart, you're different from everyone else in the world.

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A cuckold's wife's self-narration

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