Real massage, reposted

page views:1 Publication date:2014-10-11

My name is Juanjuan. About six months ago, I went for a massage with my husband—the kind with erotic elements. We've been married for almost four years, and our sex life is pretty good… well, "good" is hard to define. Basically, I enjoy making love with him; I don't experience the "fever-reducing" or "boredom" that experts talk about. The reason I went for the massage was because my husband loves browsing porn sites. After seeing some explicit stories, he'd tease me in bed. It's just for fun. There's nothing wrong with adding a little fantasy during sex—it's like pretending my husband isn't my real husband. We're a very ordinary couple. My husband is a junior manager, and I'm a typical housewife. When it comes to sex, we're probably like any other couple—we don't have any taboos. We watch porn, and during sex, we try some tricks—sexual fantasies or props—and occasionally we read erotic novels online… Honestly, I always felt those novels were written for men, or by men pretending to be women. They're all things that could never happen in real life. My husband gets very excited reading them, but as a woman, I know perfectly well whether those stories are true or false. Anyway, after all the fuss, my husband actually created a QQ account and secretly posted a thread online seeking partners for wife-swapping. When he found out, I was furious for a long time, feeling insulted. He's the only man I've ever had, and at thirty years old, he's still doing this kind of messy stuff? My husband said it was just for fun! Who says you have to agree to anything? Surprisingly, there were a lot of respondents, though none of them were actually couples; most were single men looking to take advantage. After reading their chat logs, it would be a lie to say I wasn't tempted. During that time, my husband wanted it almost every day, and I felt particularly aroused. But honestly, even my husband admitted it wouldn't be as simple as in pornographic novels… I can believe in extramarital affairs to some extent, but is it really that easy to just casually have sex, or engage in threesomes or group sex? Who has the guts to choose a complete stranger based on just a few words on QQ? Putting aside looks, weight, and everything else, what if the other person blackmails you afterward? My husband, please, are you trying to be a decent human being? One day in bed, he mysteriously suggested we get a massage. He'd heard it from a chat friend—a bunch of shady men gossiping about things they'd heard from others, who knows if it's true? I didn't pay him any mind at the time; my husband's like that, he's impulsive and forgets about it quickly once the excitement's over… But he kept bringing it up, saying it was just a massage, not necessarily anything more. I think it's also for safety reasons; safety is always a woman's first priority. With my husband around, a massage therapist is an expensive service, and checking into a hotel is convenient… Most importantly, I can't bring myself to actually have sex with another man. Fantasizing is fine, having those thoughts occasionally is okay, but in real life, it's practically suicide. Since my husband's been insistent, I'm also tempted to try it out. Actually, every woman has that thought of having a fling with another man, not because she doesn't love her husband or isn't sexually satisfied, but simply because she wants a little adventure. I think my husband thinks the same way. Taking risks is one thing, but risks must be within controllable limits. Who's stupid enough to jump out of a plane without a parachute? After that massage, our sex life did become incredibly passionate for six months, but that was just a side effect, like trying to pull the actor out of an adult film… I remember that massage vividly; although it was hard to accept, it was actually very stimulating. At first, I felt guilty, imagining a strange man in front of my husband… that feeling afterwards. But because my husband didn't care at all, and even pretended to be the masseur every time we made love afterward, the stimulation was even greater than the massage itself. So, if your husband is open-minded enough, I suggest you try it, just halfway through. You can't force anything. I didn't refuse, and then my husband ran to the living room and got a newspaper. That damn guy had already drawn a bunch of red circles on it. My husband meant that he heard some masseuses cater to both men and women, so he wanted to be able to choose. I didn't want to get involved at all. Just thinking about finding someone to massage me was already making me half-dead; how could I have the energy to care about this game? Finally, my husband chose a "genuine male massage therapist for relieving fatigue"... I agreed; he seemed quite respectable, at least my impression of him was. On the phone, I heard my husband ask if the afternoon was okay, then inquire about the duration of each session, the price, whether he also massaged men, etc. Finally, my husband even asked if the guy offered the full service! I was anxious to stop my husband's nonsense, but I didn't dare say anything... It seemed like the other person hesitated for a moment, and I don't know what they said to my husband. After hanging up, I was angry. My husband explained gently that he just wanted to confirm if the massage therapist offered half-services because the advertisement was so respectable... Since I had finally agreed, he didn't want to encounter a real "genuine male massage therapist for relieving fatigue." Okay! Although I felt embarrassed, my husband liked it, and—to be honest—I had a strange urge to try the pleasure of other men. My husband said this guy's price was quite high, so high it hurt his heart, and then he smiled ambiguously and said, "With such a high price, he might actually have some skills!" The masseur didn't charge by sessions; he'd just do what you felt was enough. On the phone, he kept emphasizing that he'd truly trained in Japan and had top-notch massage skills. When my husband asked if he wanted the full service, the man hesitated for a long time before saying, "It depends on how you feel! If you feel it right..." I warned my husband again that this was the only way, and not to think of any other tricks. That day, I even wore sexy, see-through lingerie. When we got to the hotel, my husband called the man again, and he called back to the hotel room to confirm. I first sat on the bed, but then thought it wouldn't be good to mess up the bed, so I sat on a chair. In short, my mind was in turmoil, I couldn't think straight, and I didn't dare move. My husband was the same, chain-smoking, filling the room with smoke. I knew he was nervous too. When the doorbell rang, I almost jumped up. I frantically asked my husband where I should stand. I know it was a stupid question, but I really didn't know where the best place to stand was. My husband shrugged, kissed me, and whispered, "I love you." Those words eased half of my nervousness, but the remaining half still made me feel like I was about to have a heart attack. The masseur was a very muscular man, even a bit overweight, at least 1.8 meters tall! Because I was shy and kept my head down, I didn't dare to see his face clearly, but he seemed alright. You know, we women judge men by our feelings; the most important thing is the feeling. If the feeling is right, then it's right. I stood at the farthest corner of the bed from the door, trying to make myself look more natural, forcing a smile… The masseur's voice was soft. He gently asked me what my name was. My husband answered for me, saying, "Just call her Juanjuan!" He was carrying a briefcase-like bag, then took out a bottle of something I couldn't identify, and asked, "Would you like to take a shower first?" I had already showered before leaving, but thinking about what I was going to do later, I felt I should shower again… Now I was facing a man… what if he meant he wanted to shower with me? Thinking about this, I suddenly felt hot all over, almost unable to stand. I quickly said I had showered, just now. Then he gestured for me to take off my clothes, and I blushed and took off my outer clothes first, revealing my transparent underwear. I noticed that he and my husband were both staring at my body. Just a moment ago, I felt the air conditioning in the room was so cold, but now I wished my husband could turn it up a bit. I burrowed under the sheets, unsure where to look. I only heard my husband say in his unusually dry voice, "My wife is very ticklish, so..." The masseur first expressed his regret, then went on to talk about his technique. In short, I didn't hear a word he said. At that moment, I was only thinking about where to look without being impolite. Maybe I should close my eyes? But this masseur was very polite... Hmm! If you also want to find a masseur to relax, I suggest you get a feel for his attitude over the phone first. "Juanjuan... um! Do you mind your clothes?" The masseuse hinted in a gentle tone, "The oil massage might get them dirty!" I started taking off my bra under the sheet, and hesitated when taking off my panties... not because I was hesitant about whether I should take them off, since I was here and they were here, there was no reason not to. I was thinking that my movements would be clearly visible through the thin sheet, so how could I take them off gracefully? To be honest, even now I don't know if I took them off gracefully. Although I was covered by the sheet, I was completely naked, and the feeling was a mix of fear, nervousness, and excitement. But this sheet, with just a gentle lift... my husband came over, took my underwear, kissed my cheek, and sat down.He sat on a chair to the side, legs crossed, and started smoking again. Then the masseur started undressing, explaining it was for an oil massage, so he had to take his clothes off too. To my relief, he wasn't completely naked; he was still wearing a small pair of underwear. I didn't intentionally pay attention, but I still caught a glimpse. His buttocks were small, and combined with his physique, they looked very powerful. As for that area… it felt bulging, not much different from my husband's. Then he told me to turn over. I turned over, face down on the pillow, and not having to look at him made me feel a little better. Then I thought, what is this damn husband doing now, watching his wife being touched by someone else? Am I enjoying this, or is he? The masseur slowly lifted the sheet. As the sheet moved away, my skin came into contact with the cold air in the room, reminding me that my body was now completely exposed to a strange man… I guessed this wasn't a real oil massage, just lotion; the lotion felt so cold on my skin. "You have such a great figure, and such fair skin. Your husband is so lucky!" The masseur's voice was very soft. His low voice made me feel like I was doing something incredibly important behind my husband's back, but the room was actually small, and I knew he could definitely hear me. His compliments might just be a professional habit, but hearing them was comforting, and my shyness began to disappear. I've said it before, women live by their feelings. He started by massaging my shoulders, very gently, asking in my ear if it hurt, if he was being too rough. The tension from before was starting to dissipate... It felt so good, so good that I forgot there was a man in his underwear next to me, so good that I forgot I was naked, so good that I almost fell asleep... Just as I was relaxing, the masseur's hands moved down to my back. It was fine when he massaged my shoulders, but as he moved down, I started to feel ticklish... I'm really ticklish, and whenever I'm angry or upset, my husband uses tickling to deal with me. Honestly, I don't know which part of my body isn't ticklish. Although it itched, I was too embarrassed to say it; you know how women are—they're afraid of being laughed at. I think I shifted my body slightly, and this guy, being so perceptive, noticed even that subtle movement. He asked me softly, "Does it tickle?" I gently murmured, "Mmm!" His voice was so gentle, and so attentive. My initial shyness almost vanished, replaced by trust, just like my trust in my husband. Of course, a large part of it was also because I was lying face down; it seemed that hiding my face increased my sense of security. His hands continued to massage, slowly moving downwards. When they reached my waist, I chuckled. Hearing my laughter, he laughed too, and the tension in the room completely disappeared. It was a very special experience; when you expose your flaws and find that the other person doesn't care, the relationship immediately becomes much closer. So I told him I was ticklish, especially my waist… Talking to him felt so natural, like telling my hairstylist what kind of hairstyle I wanted. This ease lasted only a second, because his hands left my waist and slid down to my buttocks. He wasn't in a hurry to do anything. First, he poured some lotion on my buttocks and started rubbing them. Several times I felt he was about to touch my genitals, so close, but as if he had accidentally done so and felt apologetic, he immediately pulled away. I knew he would eventually touch there, but I was still afraid. Some things you can never get used to. In a state of tension and anticipation, his hand left my buttocks and moved down. On one hand, I was a little disappointed that he had given up on doing anything "real," and on the other hand, I started to worry that the itchy nerves on my legs were too sensitive. Suddenly, he started to gently massage my feet and said, "Your legs are so beautiful, so white and slender, so beautiful..." I knew he was sincere, at least I felt it was, and that feeling was my whole life. Then he started kissing my legs, even stroking my cheeks while holding my insteps, as if he'd discovered the most beautiful treasure in the world… At first, I resisted and tried to pull away. No one had ever kissed my legs, no one had ever praised my feet. Maybe my parents had, but at least not since I can remember. He didn't let me go like he had during the massage earlier. He pulled me back, kissing me, and I felt his tongue darting between my toes… It wasn't the physical pleasure, but a psychological emotion; I almost felt like crying. This was the first time someone had kissed a place I'd never even noticed before. Some say women are "developed," and I tell you, that's absolutely true. From the first time we held hands to my first kiss and caresses with my husband, I still remember the shock I felt when I first touched his penis. Women rarely know what they want or don't want; they need a good man to guide them. We're not as rough as men; women are independent creatures like cats. I believe no two women feel the same way about sex, and at least a third of any sex education book you can find is wrong. Time seemed to stretch on forever. I was completely immersed in a feeling of being moved, and I didn't even notice his hand had moved to my crotch. When he touched my genitals, I realized how big his hand was, but also how delicate it was. He didn't directly violate my most intimate area; he just stroked back and forth between my thighs, occasionally and seemingly unintentionally touching the cleft between my buttocks before immediately moving away, almost imperceptibly. I felt my whole body relax, dissolve. It still wasn't pleasure, but I knew he was touching me, this gentle man was touching me… His hand slowly covered my genitals, completely covering them and gently kneading them, like a guardian angel. After a while, his fingers began to probe inside and outside the cleft, and suddenly he found my most sensitive clitoris, just lightly brushing against it. In that instant, I let out a soft "Mmm!" I knew I shouldn't have, but I felt like a small boat adrift on a gentle ocean, suddenly struck by lightning... I realized I was already wet; his touch made me feel my clitoris was covered in love juice, his fingers easily gliding and teasing it. Every muscle in my body was awakened, uncontrollably arching my hips, but he remained gentle, neither impatient nor worried. The first pleasure came slowly; besides gripping the sheets tightly, I couldn't do anything. This tidal wave of pleasure wouldn't subside, not like the waves people describe, but more like a tsunami—you never know where it will end. His hands were so light, penetrating my lower body so naturally. I could hear the sound of water from my genitals, like waves crashing against rocks... I could hold back my cries, but my body wouldn't cooperate. I wanted to roll, to leap, but my body was downward, a sense of powerlessness rising within me. Besides trying to raise my hips as high as possible to meet his thrusts, I was helpless. I think I'm about to cry, maybe I already have... but his gentleness still won't let me go. I didn't know I could be so wet, like a dam bursting, unstoppable. Actually, there was no need for sex, no need for any movement. Now, sitting here recalling the lewd sounds my lower body made back then, my heart feels like it's going to explode, and my face is as red as an apple. Then his hand left, and suddenly I felt completely empty, my hand also leaving the sheets.If it weren't for the sheets I was holding onto, I would have screamed with all my might. He turned me around; he was incredibly strong, like a god, gently lifting me up and flipping me over without me even feeling it. Turning my head, I saw my husband. I couldn't see his face clearly, but I knew he had seen everything. He was still sitting there, cigarette dangling from his lips. I didn't know if it was shame or excitement, but a certain emotion filled my chest. My man was watching me being played with, and I was shamelessly reaching orgasm… I felt a surge of love from my husband; I knew he loved me this way, loved me letting my truest self shine through. But it was difficult; I could only turn my emotions to the sheets. That's when I realized my fingers were so sore. He leaned closer, kissing my nipples and groping them. He gently stroked my breasts, occasionally lightly touching my nipples. My nipples were very sensitive; each time he touched one, my whole body trembled, just like my husband's when he ejaculates. His face drew closer, a simple face bearing the marks of hardship. I suddenly felt an urge to kiss him, but wouldn't that be foolish? He gently nibbled on my earlobe… Oh my god! Heavy breathing filled my ear, and I felt dizzy. Like a broken doll whose soul had been rippled out, my body had vanished, leaving only the sound of his breathing, the heavy breathing… The dizziness persisted, spreading like ripples, then starting again, constantly expanding. This man had found my weakness, my most vulnerable spot. Besides telling me my feet were beautiful, he had found my most vulnerable place. "Do you like it?" he whispered in my ear. Uncontrollably, I blurted out, "I like it!" I think I still retained a sliver of rationality. If this person were my husband, I would have hugged him tightly and shouted, "I love you!" I could feel his genitals rubbing against my waist, very hard… I thought he was doing it on purpose; perhaps he wanted me? Just then, he reached for my genitals with one hand and gently stroked my hair with the other, saying, "You're so beautiful, so very beautiful… Has anyone told you you're beautiful?" Then the hand stroking my hair left, and he gently took my hand, touching his genitals through my small underwear. I was probably startled! This was the first time I had touched the genitals of a man other than my husband. I snapped out of my reverie and immediately withdrew my hand. He didn't force me; he moved away, gently spreading my legs, and began kissing my genitals. It was a fusion of shame and pleasure. I tried to pull my legs back slightly, leaving them half-open, but he gently pushed them completely apart again, exposing my entire vulva to a stranger. His tongue swirled around my clitoris, while waves of sensation washed over me. With the climax, my legs, which had been slightly tense, completely relaxed and opened. I leaned towards him, wanting to get closer, closer… and then I finally made a sound, beginning to moan unrestrainedly. All shame was cast aside; I only knew I wanted more, more, I wanted him to give me more pleasure. I don't know if I said "I love you," but I think I at least said "Give it to me, give it to me again…" It wasn't because of how beautifully he licked me, but because my legs were open, I was opening my legs to welcome this man. I was exhausted, almost breathless… and then he whispered in my ear again. The intertwined pleasures, various different pleasures, made me forget everything with his kisses… I don't know why I reached out and pulled his penis out of his underwear. At first, I just gently touched it, feeling his hardness, feeling the throbbing of his penis, its thickness. Gradually, I started to go crazy, rubbing it recklessly, my mind only focused on rubbing until he ejaculated, ejaculating lots and lots of semen. His hand finally entered my vagina. With the movement of his fingers, I became more and more excited, and I could feel his excitement too. I was going crazy, feeling myself twisting my hips forcefully on the bed, constantly moaning and panting. The climax came, I arched my lower body, and almost instantly, I had another climax. I was so tired, I couldn't hold his alluring penis, and I couldn't arch my back anymore. I was so tired, I don't know how many climaxes I had experienced together… I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn't, I knew I couldn't. Was it time, or did he think I had had enough? In fact, I was satisfied, though not with penetration. But I knew that later, with my husband, I would want him to penetrate me once or twice. After the masseur left, if he refused, I would rape him… But at that moment, my mind was filled with the image of the masseur's penis. I knew my husband was coming, and I closed my eyes, afraid to look at him. After all, I had done so many shameful things in front of him. My husband looked down and asked if I wanted the full service… I didn't know. I knew I should say no, but damn it, all I could think about was that hard thing I had just been holding. This damn man was testing me, but I couldn't refuse. Damn it, I just couldn't say no. My husband asked again, but I didn't answer because I couldn't say yes, but I couldn't say no either. I don't know what my husband and the masseur did. They didn't speak; I guessed they shook their heads or nodded? I turned to the side, closed my eyes, and turned my back to them. Although the passion was still there, I didn't dare see my husband, nor did I want to look at the masseur again, afraid that I would lose control and say yes. My husband returned to the bedside and began kissing me, whispering in my ear, "Juanjuan! I love you, you're so amazing!" Just then, I noticed the masseur had climbed on top of me from below… He first gently parted my legs with his hands, just as tenderly and skillfully. My legs weren't unopenable, but this time was different. This time he was going to use his… God! His massive body pressed down on me, and I felt so scared. After kissing me once, my husband pulled away, abandoning me. I was so scared. Was this really going to happen? Was this right? He started kissing my nipples, kissing my earlobes, and then I knew nothing more. I only knew that his penis was rubbing against my clitoris, rubbing and rubbing. I knew I was wet, I could even feel my vagina opening, waiting, hoping. My body was ready, and that penis I loved so much was ready too, but… I turned my head, and my husband was smoking, I don't know how many cigarettes he'd smoked. …In my dazed state, I thought about my first time with my husband, and what would happen afterward, and what would happen afterward. How long is that instant? I only know that in that instant, everything about my husband and me flashed through my mind like lightning, so clear, so dear. I love him so much; he is my only man. I know I love him, but I never realized how deeply I loved him. To me, my husband is more important than everything else in the world combined. When that person entered me, I could clearly feel my lower body being breached by a force; a hard, large penis was inserted into my vagina. I felt a sense of despair, even sadness. I had lost my uniqueness, and from then on, I had no pride left… I turned my head towards the wall, not wanting to look at my husband, thinking I might as well just die. I didn't want to see anything except that wall covered in vulgar wallpaper. No excuses, I've lost my virginity. Right now, a completely unfamiliar penis is freely entering and exiting my genitals—I can comfort and explain myself when fingers are inserted, but this is a penis, capable of ejaculating semen that could give birth, the penis of a man other than my husband… If it weren't for politeness, I think I would have pushed this person away, rushed into the bathroom, poured out all my grievances, and then locked myself in there forever until I die of old age. That's why I advise those who want to try it to know when to stop. Doing half a round is enough; it's enough to reach unprecedented heights, enough to satisfy all your fantasies. The feeling of being penetrated by a stranger is really exhilarating, like being forced into rape. Even though it's voluntary, it still feels like rape, being forcibly penetrated. Of course, it depends on luck, that is, whether there's a man who truly loves you willing to be with you… I feel nothing, although the sound of water is still coming from my genitals, and I can feel that penis I was just infatuated with thrusting inside me. But sex isn't just about gentleness… Just as I was about to shed tears, my husband came up behind me, gently stroking my hair and turning my head. He gazed at me for what seemed like an eternity, without saying a word… and then he began to kiss me. I had never kissed like that before; it felt like a separation of life and death. Do you know what it feels like to kiss with all your might? In my husband's kiss, I felt an intense jealousy, enough to burn down the heavens and earth, and fear…And that boundless desire… I couldn't distinguish which feeling was stronger, but I knew that the sum of it all was love. Nothing else could make it feel like this. Ignoring the other man's actions, I hugged my husband and kissed him passionately, letting him know I would never let him leave again. A strange penis was still gently inserted into my lower body, and the feeling was incredibly new! Suddenly, my husband pushed me away. I had never seen him undress so quickly before, as if the world would end if he waited any longer. His penis practically jumped out of his underwear, red and shiny, its rounded glans beckoning and calling to me. My desire was revived. I swallowed my husband's penis, sucking hard, swirling my tongue around the glans. I wanted it in my mouth, I wanted it to feel good, I wanted to give everything to this penis that I would always love. With my husband's penis in my mouth and another penis inserted into my lower body, I knew this was what people called a threesome. But was this it? Because at that moment, all I could think about was my husband. Although I was starting to feel pleasure in my lower body, I believed it was all from him, from the penis in my mouth. But less than a minute later, my husband pulled back, taking that penis that belonged only to me out of my mouth. My automatic reaction was to reach out and grab it, but my husband took a step back. I didn't know anything else; all I knew was that I wanted his penis, wanted to eat it, wanted it to stay in my mouth forever. I cried in desperation. My husband immediately leaned over and kissed my face, wiping away my tears, but I knew he was deliberately keeping his lower body far away from me. Probably afraid that the other person would hear! He whispered, "I can't take it anymore..." The other person, contrary to his previous gentleness, began to thrust harder, while my husband kissed my earlobe. Enveloped in my husband's love, the shame I had felt earlier had vanished. However, his penetration was really comfortable, very comfortable, but obviously much less comfortable than the caresses I had just experienced with my hand. They both pulled away from me almost simultaneously. I barely noticed him pull his penis out; all I felt was my husband leaving me. Disappointment washed over me, like having to answer a phone call halfway through sex. My disappointment stemmed from the fact that he stopped kissing my earlobe, not from whether the other man continued penetrating me. I even wanted him to pay the man off so we could just stay in bed and make love a hundred times over. My husband gently patted me; I knew he wanted me to turn over. I always obeyed him. Then I felt him supporting my hips; I knew he wanted me to lift up so he could enter me from behind—our favorite position. I liked it this way; I liked anything my husband liked… At that moment, I longed for his big penis, for him to thrust into me forcefully, relentlessly, until he killed me. I wanted it so badly, right now. I wanted it so badly; his penis was so hard, pressing against me, filling me completely, even my heart. But my husband didn't move. The feeling was completely different when his penis entered my vagina. It was like a surge of heat flowing in, from deep within my vagina straight to my brain, making my limbs go numb and weak. I gasped softly, "This is it… the familiar hardness I don't need to see, the love I can feel intuitively." My husband didn't move; I felt satisfied without him moving. If he moved, I might reach orgasm immediately. In my heart, I cried out, "Husband, please move! It's so itchy inside, why won't you penetrate me?" Then he came to my face, kneeling, gently holding my limp head, and tenderly asked, "Is it comfortable?" I almost screamed, "Yes! Penetrate me! Please penetrate me!" I knew the reason my husband didn't move was because he couldn't hold on… Then the situation changed; the masseur was watching my husband and me make love, watching his hot, red penis penetrate my vagina.This was another feeling, the feeling of being watched by a stranger. This feeling made me even hotter, and I wanted my husband to thrust into me harder, without any mercy. We were locked in a stalemate, with my husband occasionally making a slight thrust, and at those moments, my nerves felt like they were being burned… The man just gently stroked my hair, touching me lightly, doing nothing. His condom was off, and his penis was drooping, completely unlike its previous grandeur. It wasn't completely shrunken; the length remained the same, but it was soft, and the two testicles hung there fragilely and helplessly. Many people think that women like hard, lively penises, but they don't know that a penis resting right after sex evokes even more tenderness. Women love vulnerable little creatures, just like I like it when my husband kisses my breasts, feeling a maternal instinct rise from within. At this moment, I felt the same way about these two drooping testicles. Although this man was physically strong, he had such a vulnerable side, making me want to kiss it. I tried to extend my buttocks backward, and although my husband seemed to have controlled himself, he didn't thrust into me as forcefully as before, just gently and slowly. The more I couldn't have it, the more my desire intensified; my heart felt like it was being weighed down by a huge rock. The man began to caress my breasts, kiss my earlobe, and murmur praises of my chest… My husband started moving, shouting as he thrust, "Eat his, Juanjuan, eat his." Although not as vigorous as before, the thrusts felt millions of times more pleasurable. My husband's penis was inside me, rocking me back and forth, making me feel incredibly uncomfortable. Then it exploded! My vision blurred, like a rainbow of colors appeared before my eyes. It was coming, I knew it was coming. My husband had reached the very top, my very soul was being pulled out. Yes, I wanted to eat his penis, I screamed in my heart, I wanted to eat it, I wanted to eat it! The man straightened up, his penis right in front of me, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't take it in. My body swayed during the thrusting… All I could do was grab it, but even that was difficult. I had to support myself with one hand and hold his penis with the other. It quickly hardened in my hand, harder than all the penises in the world combined, like a red-hot iron rod… but I couldn't reach it. "Do you like it?" the man groaned, asking me. "Do you like it?" Without hesitation, I shouted, "I like it!" I had forgotten what shame was, just screaming and yelling, trying to release all my desire. If I didn't scream, I would die. My husband's penis had reached its hilt, so deep I felt like it was going to break inside. My husband's thrusts intensified, one orgasm after another. I couldn't see what I was holding anymore; I wanted everything. I think I've gone mad. I couldn't take it anymore, so I put down the dildo and let it dangle in front of my eyes... It was so dark, so shiny, it was begging me to satisfy it, to make it explode, to spray it all over my face. I knew it, I heard that shiny dildo calling to me, as my husband thrust his dildo into my face, it was so beautiful, I wanted to eat it, to swallow it... I shouted, "Dick, big dildo!" The dildo was right in front of me, my husband's dildo was penetrating me. "What?" My husband yelled as if he hadn't heard me. "Dick! Big dildo!" My husband's speed increased, I knew he was going to have sex, he would fill my vagina with lots of semen, flood it. An orgasm overwhelmed me, and there was still a thick, hard dildo dangling in front of my eyes, I shouted, "It's a big dildo, such a big dildo! Fuck me, I want a big dildo to fuck me..." In daily life, or in my mind, I think I am a conservative woman. Actually, I guess most women are like me, having their own cute nicknames for men or their own body parts. For example, I like to call my husband's penis "bangbang"... Oh! When it's soft, I call it "bird." Occasionally, when I'm out, like in the market, if I hear someone swearing, I immediately feel extremely uncomfortable. I think this is a constraint imposed on women by their upbringing! My husband led me into this world of lewd talk. At first, I refused, but later I reluctantly learned. At first, I got worse and worse, having to think about what to say while making love, to the point where I didn't even know where to put my legs. Until one time, my husband brought me to the point of ecstasy, and while he was excited, he told me to shout. Suddenly, without thinking, those lewd words naturally flowed out... Really! When you shout those taboos out loud without restraint, all the rules disappear. But unless my husband calls me, commands me, and I happen to be in the throes of impending climax, I wouldn't normally think of these kinds of inappropriate phrases, even during sex. I'm writing this now just to record the situation… But right now, as I type, I'm truly immersed in the moment, indulging myself through these words, feeling that unbridled, liberating pleasure. My husband pulled out at the last second, his thick, hot semen shooting onto my back like a rocket… I was so disappointed. He knew I usually take birth control pills, those pills that give me headaches and make me nauseous, all because I loved him ejaculating inside me, filling me with love. I collapsed, panting, feeling my husband gently wiping me with a tissue, tenderly. That man's penis—no! His thick, hard penis was right in front of me, still erect… Although I was tired, I didn't feel satisfied, a void lingering between my legs after my husband's departure. I think I've truly let go. Relying on my husband's love, I dare to do anything, and most importantly, my husband likes me to be this wanton. He wants me to discard all shame and enjoy everything I can grasp at this moment. I reached out and started touching it, just gently caressing it, not intentionally, but this hard, big rod just happened to be right in front of me. I hadn't paid much attention before, but now I noticed that it was really different from my husband's, though different, it was equally adorable. Its back was slightly thicker, especially the inverted triangular cone-shaped glans, which was particularly fun, like a sharp spear that could pierce one's heart. I don't know where the strength came from, but I slightly propped myself up, tilted my head back, and leaned forward to kiss his glans! I didn't really dare to suck it in, just used my tongue to circle around his glans, gently touching it. At this moment, I felt his glans twitch twice on my tongue, like an independent little life... It was so beautiful, the most beautiful part of a man is this. I couldn't resist taking it all in my mouth, feeling it throb within me, the most beautiful glans seeming to swell even more. My husband lay beside me, watching me with a smile. I knew he wanted to watch me eat, and the flames of desire that had just been extinguished reignited in his eyes. So I ate even more enthusiastically, stuffing the whole thing into my mouth, pulling it out, and then putting it back in. Sometimes I held it in my hand, punishing the unruly glans with my tongue, watching it swell to its limit, anticipating its bursting open and releasing millions of seeds. My husband reached out and touched my bare shoulder, panting, sighing, and groaning. "Do you like it?" my husband asked softly. I couldn't answer with it in my mouth, yet I didn't want to spit it out, so I could only nod as I held it, shouting in my heart, "I like it so much! I like it so much!" His testicles were so soft; I could feel what was inside that fleshy sac—that was what I wanted, the source of a man's allure. Everything before me was gnawing at me, my heart itching, so itchy. "Do you want to fuck him? I want you to fuck him, fuck him to death!" My husband breathed into my ear, his warm breath driving me crazy, the madness starting from my genitals. I wanted it, of course I wanted it, I wanted to use my own pussy to fuck this incredibly thick rod to death! Fuck this unruly rod to death. I spat out the rod, pushed him down, I couldn't wait a second longer, that empty feeling in my pussy needed to be filled with the rod, and then I couldn't wait to mount him... I first grabbed the throbbing rod, looked at my husband, and my husband was smiling at me, I sat down. This time the rod didn't have a condom, because my mind was blank except for that big rod. So full, really so full, it felt like the thickest and biggest rod in the world was about to pierce into my belly. I screamed, wildly moving up and down, using the last bit of strength I had left. He lifted his hips, then slammed them down, each time penetrating deep inside me, hitting my chest. I never knew sex could feel so good. I loved it, wishing the world would stop, wishing the end of the world would come… Then an orgasm surged from my lower body, knocking me down. I lay on top of him, panting, panting uncontrollably… It was so wet; I was practically sitting on a huge puddle of sticky love juice and semen, my pubic hair mingling with his. His limp penis slid out from my wetness. Although I wanted to grab it back, I was already satisfied, I couldn't take any more, any more and I would die instantly. I trembled, the overflowing tide surging through my body.I was pounding back and forth inside him, trembling uncontrollably. I dragged myself forward to kiss him, cupping his face and searching for this stranger's soul. I found myself captivated by his penis. The tongue that had just licked my genitals was now burrowing in my mouth like a little snake. I hugged him tightly, wanting to bury myself completely in his body. His broad chest—I wanted to curl up in his arms and never leave. He didn't let me go. He lifted me up and laid me flat on my back. Before him, I felt as helpless as a straw. I spread my legs wide, to my absolute limit, waiting for him to come and fuck me with that big penis, to fuck me to death. I screamed when he entered me! I screamed! Oh! I thrust my hips towards him, the sound of our bodies colliding almost drowning out the entire room. I wanted him to fuck me, to fuck me hard, without any mercy. He kept thrusting into me, grabbing my legs, exposing my entire genitals. I loved it. I wanted to give him my most precious place, to let him see it clearly. My BB was right there, he could do whatever he wanted with me, I just wanted him to fuck me hard. He thrust so hard, all I knew was that I was swaying my upper body from side to side, I wanted freedom, I wanted that freedom I'd never had before. I thought the sex had reached its limit, but it hadn't, another orgasm came, again and again. I screamed, "Fuck me, please!" It was the only plea I could make, the only thing I wanted. Then he sped up, his whole cock seemed to be inside me, and I felt his rod throbbing inside me. I knew he'd ejaculated, all inside me. I grabbed his neck, wanting him to press down on me, wanting his semen to melt inside me, wanting his horde to surge within me. He leaned against the headboard, and I sat in his lap, still playing with my little bird. My husband sat opposite us… We were tired, everyone was tired, and it was all over. Now we were smiling at each other. "Jealous?" I asked my husband, looking him straight in the eye, as I sat on him. "Look at him, I really like him, I like having him inside me." "No!" My husband's smile vanished, replaced by a serious expression. "I want you to be happy, to be crazy, to have everything. Otherwise, why did you marry me?" His erection returned. I turned around, kissed him, and then lifted my hips, hugging his strong neck. Half-squatting, I took his hard glans into my wet vagina, my juices flowing again, coursing through my heart. His glans throbbed inside me. I turned back to my husband and asked, "So, how about this?" He smiled and nodded… Suddenly, I sat down, letting his entire penis penetrate me. I paused for a while, until I managed to control my emotions. I slowly leaned back into my husband's arms and said, "There's someone else's big dick inside my pussy! It's so big, it's so itchy inside, I want him to fuck me, let his big dick be inside me so you can see, okay... Will you kiss me? I want you to kiss me!" His dick was inside me, so deep, and I almost frowned as I said this. "I like it when someone else fucks you, just because you like it!" My husband kissed me, and I lay in his arms, my legs draped over his shoulders, watching his dick thrusting in and out of my pussy with him. My husband was outside, and I was in the bathroom with the masseur. He was carefully washing every inch of my skin with the showerhead. As he knelt down and touched my thighs, a touch of sadness rose up... It was time to part, he was leaving. I helped him up, and I felt around on his body, trying to find something to remember him by. His dick was pressed against my lower abdomen, so warm and wet. I knelt on the floor, sucking his penis, swallowing it all the way down my throat, the shower water spraying over my back. The bathroom was separated by frosted glass; though not transparent, I could probably see my reflection… Perhaps my husband knew what I was doing, perhaps not, but this was my first affair. It was true, I really wanted to make love to him alone, in the most private setting, without anyone disturbing us. “Just one more time, please? Just one more time!” I pleaded, tilting my head back. He lifted me up, suspending me in mid-air, his entire penis inside me. My legs were tightly wrapped around his waist, my arms around his neck. I should have felt fear, but I didn't; I just leaned on his broad shoulders… and then I cried. I didn't make a sound, silently enduring the pleasure, accepting the end of an extraordinary encounter, reaching orgasm almost immediately. It was ridiculous, but I truly believed I could make him remember me this way, this ordinary woman who had once clung to him. As he was about to leave after taking the money, I asked for his contact information. He then took out a pen and said he wanted to write his phone number on my thigh. So I lifted my skirt, revealing the thigh he had just touched. After he left, my husband and I did it again. I quietly told my husband that I had arranged for my sister to pick up our son, so we could stay there as long as we wanted. In fact, we didn't leave the hotel until the next day, and I've forgotten how many times we came that day. Afterwards, I went to see that masseur several more times alone. I still felt itchy in the places that should be itchy, and I was still aroused in the places that should be aroused. I arched my back and let him caress me. I felt that this man was not only stronger than my husband, but his tongue was also more skillful when licking my genitals, and he was more patient when caressing me. Many of his delicate touches moved me, and I felt happiness in each orgasm.My husband was outside alone, and the masseur was in the bathroom with me. He was carefully washing every inch of my skin with the showerhead. As he knelt on the floor, touching my thighs, a pang of sadness rose within me… It was time to part ways; he was leaving. I helped him up, groping his body, trying to find something to hold onto as a memento. His penis pressed against my lower abdomen, so warm and hard. I knelt on the floor, sucking on his penis, swallowing it as far as it went, the shower water spraying down my back. The bathroom was separated by frosted glass; though not transparent, one could probably see shadows inside… Perhaps my husband knew what I was doing, perhaps not, but this was my first affair. It was true; I really wanted to make love to him alone, in the most private setting, without anyone disturbing us. “Just one more time, please? Just one more time!” I pleaded, looking up at him. He lifted me up, suspending me in mid-air, his entire penis inside me. My legs were tightly wrapped around his waist, my arms around his neck. I should have felt fear, but I didn't. I just leaned on his broad shoulder… and then I cried. I didn't make a sound, silently enduring the pleasure, enduring the end of an extraordinary encounter, reaching climax almost immediately. It was ridiculous, but I truly believed I could make him remember me this way, this ordinary woman who had once clung to him. As he took the money and was about to leave, I asked for his contact information, then took out a pen and said I wanted to write his phone number on my thigh. So I lifted my skirt, revealing the thigh he had just touched. After he left, my husband and I did it again. I quietly told my husband that I had arranged for my sister to pick up our son, so we could stay there as long as we wanted. In fact, we didn't leave the hotel until the next day, and I've forgotten how many times we came that day. Afterwards, I went to see the masseur separately a few more times. I still felt itchy where I wanted to be itchy, and I was still aroused where I wanted to be aroused. I arched my back and let him caress me. I felt that this person was not only stronger than my husband, but also more agile in licking my genitals, and more patient in caressing me. Many of his delicate touches moved me, and I felt happiness during each orgasm.My husband was outside alone, and the masseur was in the bathroom with me. He was carefully washing every inch of my skin with the showerhead. As he knelt on the floor, touching my thighs, a pang of sadness rose within me… It was time to part ways; he was leaving. I helped him up, groping his body, trying to find something to hold onto as a memento. His penis pressed against my lower abdomen, so warm and hard. I knelt on the floor, sucking on his penis, swallowing it as far as it went, the shower water spraying down my back. The bathroom was separated by frosted glass; though not transparent, one could probably see shadows inside… Perhaps my husband knew what I was doing, perhaps not, but this was my first affair. It was true; I really wanted to make love to him alone, in the most private setting, without anyone disturbing us. “Just one more time, please? Just one more time!” I pleaded, looking up at him. He lifted me up, suspending me in mid-air, his entire penis inside me. My legs were tightly wrapped around his waist, my arms around his neck. I should have felt fear, but I didn't. I just leaned on his broad shoulder… and then I cried. I didn't make a sound, silently enduring the pleasure, enduring the end of an extraordinary encounter, reaching climax almost immediately. It was ridiculous, but I truly believed I could make him remember me this way, this ordinary woman who had once clung to him. As he took the money and was about to leave, I asked for his contact information, then took out a pen and said I wanted to write his phone number on my thigh. So I lifted my skirt, revealing the thigh he had just touched. After he left, my husband and I did it again. I quietly told my husband that I had arranged for my sister to pick up our son, so we could stay there as long as we wanted. In fact, we didn't leave the hotel until the next day, and I've forgotten how many times we came that day. Afterwards, I went to see the masseur separately a few more times. I still felt itchy where I wanted to be itchy, and I was still aroused where I wanted to be aroused. I arched my back and let him caress me. I felt that this person was not only stronger than my husband, but also more agile in licking my genitals, and more patient in caressing me. Many of his delicate touches moved me, and I felt happiness during each orgasm.

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