Embarking on the path of cuckoldry 10

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It was nearly midnight, and I was on the verge of collapse, about to call my wife, when I finally heard a soft, life-saving knock at the door. Like grasping at a straw, I rushed to open it.

My wife was standing there. In the light of the porch lamp, she was still so slender, still so beautiful, only her hair was a little disheveled, her eyes were unfocused, and her complexion looked somewhat unnatural. Her eyes betrayed her; when she saw me, they lowered their gaze, avoiding my eyes.

I pulled her inside and quietly asked, "Why are you back so late?"

She stammered, "We ate…we talked for too long," and then turned and went into the bedroom.
I understood everything. I closed the living room door, checked that the children's bedroom door was closed, took a few deep breaths, pressed my chest to calm my turbulent emotions, and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

My wife lay on her side on the bed with her back to me, her high heels on the floor, her clothes still on, a long stretch of her smooth thigh gleaming alluringly in the dim light. At that moment, my mind was completely focused on whether my wife and J had slept together; I hadn't noticed she wasn't wearing stockings.

My wife's body twitched slightly, her beautiful curves rising and falling with her breath, as if telling the story of what had just happened.
I quietly climbed into bed, lay down beside her, gently embraced her waist, and kissed her hair and neck. Everything was unspoken; I didn't know what to say, just silently caressing her.

Suddenly, my wife turned her head and hugged my neck tightly. I then noticed her face was streaked with tears, she was crying uncontrollably: "Husband, I'm so sorry."
Although I had mentally prepared myself and was ready to accept whatever might happen, hearing her words still made my heart pound: What? You…you slept with him?
My wife started sobbing: "Honey, I'm so sorry, I was wrong. I didn't mean it this way. You can scold me."
I paused, a feeling of mixed emotions welling up inside me. I knew that if I let go now, it might make things worse, making her think I hated her and abandoned her. I quickly hugged her tightly, kissing away her tears: "Darling, don't talk nonsense. I told you, no matter what you do, I will always love you."
My wife suddenly became emotional: "Why? Why do you think that? I thought everything you said before was a lie! I was so scared on the way back, scared that everything you said before was a lie, scared that you would leave me, but if I didn't tell you, I would never have peace of mind, and I couldn't hide it anymore. What
could I say then?" I quickly comforted her: "I understand you, baby. I swear to God, everything I said before was true. No matter what you do, I will never leave you." Honestly, I was a little shocked and a little hurt that you actually slept with another man today, but it was my choice, and I don't regret it.
My wife was silent for a while, staring at me, as if trying to figure out if I was being sincere. We really are on the same wavelength; we've known each other for so many years, we can understand each other perfectly with just a glance.
My wife silently turned her head away and sighed: "What's wrong with you? Maybe this is my fate."
At this moment, I had no mind to think about what my wife was saying. Looking at her slender waist and full buttocks behind her back, I couldn't help but wonder if I was dreaming or in reality. The four or five hours that had been so difficult to endure that night had already made me a little disoriented. I pinched myself; it hurt. This wasn't a dream, but it was a dream, only now it had become reality?

I watched her retreating figure, overwhelmed with emotion. A bittersweet feeling washed over me: my wife, the one who had sworn eternal fidelity to me, body and soul, lying beside me, had instantly become a withered flower, a wanton young woman who had been fucked by a new man.

I didn't know if this was infidelity. Infidelity usually involves a woman willingly sleeping with another man without her husband's knowledge? Or was it an accidental loss of virginity? Or was she forced into bed under my and J's "training"? I couldn't care less. In short, my filthy desire had been fulfilled. The scene I longed to see—my wife writhing and moaning beneath another man—had been achieved. I had seen another side of my seemingly loyal and virtuous wife.

But was she truly loyal? Virtuous? A loyal woman, no matter how tempted, wouldn't take this step, right? Even if faced with rape, wouldn't she fight back to the death? Did she fight back to the death? Or was it just a symbolic resistance before she lay down? I truly couldn't understand my wife anymore.

I reached out and stroked her buttocks. Those full buttocks, hidden beneath the skirt, must have been completely exposed to J's lustful gaze just moments before. They must have been mercilessly grabbed, slapped, pinched, and played with by J. They must have been greedily licked by J's mouth and tongue. They must have been rubbed by J's penis. They must have been her labia tightly gripped and wildly pushed and pulled by J. Thinking of this, a surge of heat rushed to my head and to my groin.

I seemed to see my wife lying beside me, no longer the reserved and demure wife I knew, but a wanton, shameless prostitute lying next to me, waiting for any man to fuck her.
At that moment, I couldn't care less about anything else. The bitterness of losing my wife's fidelity, the shame of being cuckolded, the grief of bearing the infamy of ethics—all intertwined into the most intense stimulation, assaulting my entire body. I pounced on my wife like I was on steroids, showering her lips with kisses, teasing her with my tongue, and roughly rubbing and caressing her through her panties with my fingers.

After a brief moment of calm, my wife suddenly wrapped her arms tightly around my neck and began kissing me passionately, actively sticking her tongue into my mouth, whimpering and moaning with thirst.

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