My wife was wearing stockings and got laid by someone else.

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

I. My First Taste of Stockings It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say my wife is a natural beauty. Her skin is fair and radiant with a healthy glow. She has rosy cheeks and almond-shaped eyes that always have a slightly hazy quality, like pools of autumn water. Her delicate eyebrows and small red lips are always pursed in a half-smile. She's not very tall, but she has a slender and graceful appearance.
Moreover, my wife is a woman who values the quality of her sex life, though I didn't initially notice. She likes wearing stockings and high heels. Usually, she wears pantyhose and ordinary high heels, but sometimes when they go out, she'll change into sexy stockings and suspenders. I also like stockings, but I never let my wife satisfy me because I was afraid she would laugh at me. But I was wrong; I gave my best enjoyment to another man. My wife isn't a particularly promiscuous woman, but even the most honest woman can have an affair. My wife used to have the desire but not the courage; whenever she dressed provocatively, people would approach her, but she never slept with anyone (at least that's what she told me). However, later she became acquainted with a music producer. My wife has always wanted to be a singer, so she resolutely took time outside of her regular job to practice singing and became very close to the music producer. I've met that man; he's quite handsome. At
first, I would sometimes accompany her or pick her up from class, but later, I got busy with company affairs and stopped caring. Then one day, my wife came home and told me that a music producer had found her a company where she could be a full-time singer. My wife was ecstatic and busied herself with grooming herself every day. That day, she wore a white sheer skirt and a red cotton t-shirt. Her full, firm breasts trembled slightly with her movements beneath the thin fabric. Her rounded buttocks curved beautifully under the skirt, and her long, shapely legs were clad in pretty stockings and small, delicate white leather shoes. A youthful aura permeated her entire being, but... Her voluptuous figure possessed a captivating allure that could make one's heart race. She also told me that the music producer had been very kind to her, offering her a lot of advice on clothing (including stockings). My wife knew how important the sexy charm of stockings was to men she was attracted to, so I noticed she wasn't just wearing ordinary pantyhose anymore. I once saw her wearing long, strappy stockings; she looked very sexy. Just then, bad luck struck. I had to go out of town to deal with a situation at a branch office. I was a little uneasy before I left, but there was nothing I could do. For two and a half months, I was away, frequently calling my wife. Sometimes she wouldn't answer, saying she couldn't hear me because she was in the recording studio
. The rest of the time, her singing career seemed to be going well. But she never mentioned the music producer again, which made me increasingly nervous; I always felt something was wrong. Two and a half months later, I returned home, but without telling my wife. If she had kept her word, she should have been two days late. When I got home, the house was neat and tidy, with some clothes scattered on the bed. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; my wife must have been practicing singing or something, since she wasn't answering her phone. It was a Saturday, and my wife often used weekends to practice singing. She could only practice for a few hours during the week, but on weekends, there were no other singers, so she could practice all day. So, with a relatively calm mindset, I went to the recording studio. When I was almost there, my wife texted me: "Honey, I'm sorry..." "I was practicing singing, I didn't hear you. I've finished practicing and am about to go home. I'll call you when I get home." I thought I was done practicing, so I decided not to go in. Since I needed to register to enter, I waited at the door, but no one came out after a while. So I registered and went in anyway. I arrived at the top-floor recording studio, but I saw the iron gate was locked, meaning someone was there, recording, and no entry was allowed. But I couldn't resist, because I felt increasingly uneasy. So I slowly removed the lock, entered the main gate, and went to the recording studio door. I slowly pushed open a soundproof door, went inside, walked through a short corridor, and pushed open a second soundproof door. Before me was the mixing console
. I immediately spotted a woman's bag on the sofa; I wasn't sure if it belonged to my wife. Then, through the large glass window, I saw a pair of flesh-colored women's stockings hanging on the microphone rack inside the recording studio. From my position, I could only see half the studio, so I moved forward, a frenzied anticipation of what I was about to see. A sliver of hope lingered, but I was quickly disappointed. I saw a second pair of stockings—two long stockings scattered on the music stand. The sheer size of them exuded a lewd aura, filling the normally austere recording studio with a suggestive atmosphere. I gritted my teeth, determined to see everything, and swiftly moved to stand directly in front of the large glass window. I was stunned. I saw the back of a man on the edge of the grand piano, his trousers dragging on the floor. His body was thrusting forward, and in front of him, a woman was clearly sitting on the piano keys. The piano was closed, silent, and even through the soundproof glass, I couldn't hear anything
. y( y9 _ But I could see that the woman's legs were shimmering with pearlescent light, the kind of stockings I liked. She wore black pointed-toe stiletto sandals on her long legs. Her legs were held high on either side of the man's waist, her calves dangling down, swaying sensually with his thrusts. Her arms were wrapped around him, but her face was obscured by his body. Clinging to a last glimmer of hope, I tried to look left and right, but I couldn't see her face. Meanwhile, the man was thrusting very quickly, and the woman often had to frantically struggle to hold onto his shoulders. The two of them... As they went at it wildly, I actually started to get a little aroused. Suddenly, the man seemed to reach his climax; he lifted the woman up, and she was immediately suspended in mid-air. Then, something happened that completely shattered my senses: the woman clung tightly to the man, her body undulating with his vigorous thrusts. Her long, slender legs, clad in flesh-colored stockings, were wrapped around his waist, her high heels resting on his back. The woman rested her head on his shoulder, her mouth wide open, a lewd expression on her face as she spoke something. And that was indeed the face I both wanted to avoid but was also aroused by—my wife
. My wife was licking the man's ear wantonly, while he continued to fuck her, simultaneously caressing her beautiful legs in stockings. Those legs, which had never worn sexy stockings for me, were now being played with by someone else. My wife, who had always been well-behaved during sex and would thank me after each orgasm, was now endlessly enjoying being played with and willingly making wanton, provocative movements. She never wore stockings during sex with me, yet here in the recording studio were two pairs of stockings she had worn, or perhaps intended for a second time during sex. The recording studio she had mentioned for singing practice had now become their pleasure room. I wondered how many times they had done this, and whether my wife was being taken advantage of because she felt lonely while I was away on business, or whether she had already been aroused when I told her I was going away. I stared blankly at her as she continued to be fucked. Her movements noticeably quickened; she thrashed about on the man, moaning and screaming
. I couldn't take it anymore, so I took a few steps forward and pulled open the soundproof door of the recording booth. Suddenly, lewd words flooded my ears: "Ah, so good, fuck me!" "Harder, touch my stockings, I wore them for you!" "Ah, make me feel good, make me feel good!" I only opened the door halfway before I didn't want to open it anymore. I stood there, continuing to listen to my wife shouting the most lewd and arousing words from her petite mouth, continuing to listen to the squelching sounds of their genitals colliding, continuing to look at the stockings hanging on the microphone stand (they were covered in semen, obviously not the first time today). My heart was pounding. I wanted to rush in and beat that man up, and I also wanted my wife to make love to me so wantonly. At that moment, my feelings of being humiliated and my sexual urges were so real that I was at a loss!

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My wife was wearing stockings and got laid by someone else.

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