The Story of My Beloved Wife

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

Chapter 1: Training and Transformation

I met my wife in early 2006. She was 1.68 meters tall, with a lovely and beautiful face, which made me fall irrevocably in love with her. After a period of persistent pursuit, I stood out from many competitors and finally won her heart.

Our courtship was passionate. After enduring nearly a year of painful abstinence, I finally forced myself on my current wife in early 2007 while drunk. After a night of intense passion, I was greatly disappointed. She was truly just a pretty face, nothing more than a vase. Although she had a boyfriend before me with whom she had a seven-year relationship and lived for three years, she knew nothing about sex, let alone how to enjoy it freely.

After our first time, my wife moved in with me (at this time, I lived with my parents). By late 2007, life had become mechanical, and I grew increasingly decadent with each sexual encounter with her, losing all interest in sex.

My wife gradually noticed my change, and finally one night, lying beside me in bed, she asked,

"What's wrong?" This question led to our first deep conversation about male-female sexuality. That time, I finally understood my wife's inner thoughts and realized that she wasn't actually frigid.

It turned out that my wife had been bound by the traditional education she received from her family since childhood. Even her three-year sexual relationship with her ex-boyfriend was governed by her belief that women must suppress their sexuality, always passively obeying men in bed, never able to relax and enjoy passion. She believed that sex was merely fulfilling a wife's duty, otherwise she would be a promiscuous woman despised by her husband.

After hearing my wife's words, I felt both happy and sad. Happy because I understood that my wife telling me this proved she also longed for change, but was suppressing herself because she was worried about my attitude; sad because I felt her suppressed desires led to her ignorance of modern views on male-female sexuality. From that moment on, I earnestly told my wife,

"If you believe in me and love me, then don't be afraid of me anymore. I want to make you my wanton wife!" My wife nodded shyly.

From that night on, I understood that to change my wife, I had to proceed gradually and not rush it. To this end, I devised a plan to train my wife, and I helped her unknowingly become a sex enthusiast.

First, I downloaded a huge number of adult videos online, mainly Japanese and domestic self-shot videos. I watched them every night before bed, discussing the realistic portrayal of the content with my wife, telling her how wonderful sex is when it's based on love and openness.

Every time we made love, I no longer just sought to release my desires as before. Instead, I patiently seduced her, licking her entire body with my tongue, especially her genitals, using my tongue as a tool to enter and exit her vagina. At the same time, I guided her fingers into her vagina, teaching her how to masturbate.

After some passionate foreplay, I began to penetrate her body with a gentle, shallow penetration followed by a deep one, while softly holding her head and whispering words of praise and encouragement in her ear. My words gradually became more lewd, such as encouraging her to fantasize about her ideal man wanting to have sex with her, or imagining other men waiting in line behind me who also wanted to have sex with her… When I felt she was immersed in her fantasies, I would suddenly pull open the curtains of my room, exposing my wife to the opposite building, or I would take photos and videos of her incessantly with my phone. From initial discomfort to eventually closing her eyes tightly after several repetitions, my wife had made a breakthrough in basic sexual intimacy.

After more than ten sessions of this "indoctrination and training," my wife had changed significantly; she no longer avoided or shied away from male-female sex. But I knew this wasn't enough; the second stage was to erase her reserve and completely liberate her mind.

Unconsciously, my flirting with my wife shifted from the closed bedroom to the outside world. How did this happen? Actually, my wife had developed sexual desire and even experienced orgasm, but she still couldn't be completely lewd for sex. This was evident from the fact that her clothing remained unchanged, still primarily youthful and casual. At the time, I considered taking the initiative to help her change clothes, but then I realized it would be because of me, not her own idea, so I abandoned the idea.

From then on, whenever we went out shopping or to meet friends, I would secretly seduce her, just like I would at home in bed. At first, it was verbal seduction, but later I started to physically assault her. For example, when we were eating together, I would put my hand under the table and secretly touch her genitals through her pants; when we were in a bar, I would deliberately put my arm around my wife in the dim light, while my hand was already inside her bra, and so on. Often, strangers around us would discover our affair. My wife would refuse to be harassed because of shyness, but because she couldn't resist my persistence, she gradually accepted it.

"Taking an inch and wanting a mile," later on, I became even more unscrupulous. Once in a bar, I would stand behind her with my arms around her, and without anyone else around, I would undo her pants, put one hand inside her underwear and touch her private parts, while the other hand would slip under her clothes and touch her nipples. As her climax approached, my movements became increasingly vigorous. A few close-up glances from the strangers nearby revealed my wife's white, tender breasts. Without the loud music, her final moan would have been enough to make anyone nearby swoon.

When the climax subsided, my wife, her face flushed, opened her eyes against me, only to realize how disheveled she was. Several men at the neighboring tables were staring at her lecherously. My wife quickly pushed me away, embarrassed, and straightened her clothes, scolding me for ignoring the other men's stares.

I chuckled and dragged her towards the restroom, whispering in her ear, "Are you really bothered by being spied on? Don't you feel a thrill you never got before after the climax?" My wife remained silent. I immediately said, "Let's go to the restroom and take off your underwear; it'll be uncomfortable if you're soaking wet." After leaving the restroom, I immediately took my wife out of the bar.

On the way home, as I drove, my wife kept asking me what had happened. She kept asking if a lot of people were watching us, then if anyone had actually seen anything, and even if any men would have wanted to rape her after seeing us. Hearing these questions, I knew my wife wasn't blaming me, but rather that she was being stimulated and indulging in fantasies.

Because of this unprecedented stimulation, I deliberately exaggerated and fabricated a story for my wife, telling her that I had indeed intentionally let someone spy on me, and that someone was masturbating while watching her body… Stimulated by this, my wife readily stripped naked, spread her legs, turned her head towards my crotch, and impatiently unzipped my pants, pulling out my penis and forcefully sucking on it.

At that moment, I suppressed my desire and drove to a roadside in a residential area, and without thinking twice, I became intimate with my wife. Suddenly, a thought flashed through my mind: to make my wife more open in the future, I had to be bolder. So without hesitation, I opened the car door and carried my wife out of the car.

My wife was startled by my sudden action and clung tightly to me, saying, "Get in the car quickly, there will be people on the road." I ignored her completely, focusing only on caressing and licking her. Gradually, my wife lost her resistance and even began to respond to me. At this point, I knew I had succeeded. I said to my wife, "Darling, just relax and enjoy it. Let others see if they want, it's no big deal." My wife nodded vigorously, without any shyness, completely immersed in our lovemaking.

In the incredibly stimulating environment, we quickly became intoxicated. A breeze blew by, and we came to our senses, only to find that there were indeed several students across the street. It wasn't a hallucination; my wife had just exposed herself completely to several strange men. Without even putting on her clothes, we immediately jumped into the car and sped off home.

After a year of my "training," my wife has come to understand the pleasures of sex, thriving in the sea of desire. Since then, she has completed the third stage of her breakthrough. Her conservative lingerie and casual outerwear are gone, replaced by dozens of sets of various sexy lingerie and panties; miniskirts and open-crotch black stockings are her everyday attire. From

a certain day in early 2008, my wife led me onto the path of a new married life. Because of the release of her desires, my wife's body will be devoured by more men, no longer just my exclusive enjoyment.

Chapter Two: The Pleasure of Erotic Selfies

My beloved wife has, as I wished, broken through her rational desires. When the calm surface is broken, it's like the Yellow River overflowing its banks; with the opening of her mind, my wife's lust will only increase.

From then on, my wife is hopelessly in love with her own body, constantly thinking about how to adorn herself, letting her sensual wantonness permeate and sublimate from the very core of her being. Because my wife works for a large state-owned enterprise, she must adhere to company rules and maintain a dignified appearance, but this does nothing to diminish her pursuit of sexy attire.

In just six months in 2008, she specifically registered on Taobao and went on a shopping spree, buying all sorts of sexy lingerie and revealing outfits. Whenever she came home from work or on weekends, she would take off her uniform, put on outfits that were irresistible to me and any man, and we would wander the streets together.

My wife and I no longer sought simple sex; we were now magically enjoying the thrill. For convenience, she only bought thongs or open-crotch pants. More often, to enhance the sensuality, when the weather wasn't too hot, she would wear open-crotch black stockings and a super short skirt that covered her buttocks. As for her upper body, she would wear clothes that accentuated her ample breasts, the tantalizing glimpses always making onlookers drool. Because of this, my wife fell in love with taking erotic photos.

At first, we mostly took photos at home. My initial excitement and my wife's nervousness greatly diminished the quality of the photos, but we discovered a new kind of fun in it. Gradually, my wife became more familiar with the photos, striking different poses, and I learned to appreciate and photograph my beloved wife from different angles. The level of the explicit photos also changed from simple standing or sitting poses to masturbation photos, sex photos, and even close-up shots showing her face, legs spread, and genitals.

After each photoshoot, our desire didn't diminish, nor did we rush to take each other's time. Instead, we would quietly lie on the bed admiring each beautiful picture, chatting as we did so. I would praise my wife and also tell her how much I regretted not being able to share such beautiful photos with others.

In the past, I wouldn't have dared to be so open, but my wife has changed. She would then say that if I wanted, she would allow me to show the photos to any man. In addition, my wife would also tell me without reservation about the sexual partners she fantasized about, and would say lewdly that she deliberately seduced someone when I wasn't around; she would even tell me that she could sense that someone around me was constantly tempted to have sex with her.

And so, my wife's erotic photos multiplied, and the locations diversified. Some were taken secretly in the countryside or busy city centers, others were taken boldly in entertainment venues while hiding in corners, and still others were taken at a friend's house while he napped, my wife lying beside him, revealing her alluring genitals… After that first time at a friend's house, I had an idea: to share them with a close friend. I have many friends, but only two (let's call them Mr. S and Mr. D) are frequent acquaintances, and both are single.

I will only share with Mr. S for two reasons: first, Mr. S shares similar views on sex, prioritizing pleasure; second, I think Mr. S is the most frequently fantasized sexual partner for my wife, meaning he's someone she easily accepts and even anticipates! Besides these two points, there's another selfish reason: I'm no longer satisfied with just the two of us; the idea of a threesome is strongly surging within me. If Mr. S can get used to appreciating my wife's erotic photos, I believe he will soon be the first to share my wife's unrestrained passion with me.

As expected, when I mentioned my idea of letting Mr. S see the explicit photos, my wife was both excited and skeptical about whether she would actually agree.

After some planning, I invited Mr. S to my house for dinner and drinks over the weekend. My wife, being quite tactful, went back to her parents' house, so naturally, I had to let Mr. S stay overnight. That night, we lay on my wife's and my bed chatting idly. While I was absentmindedly pondering how to let Mr. S see the explicit photos of my wife on my phone and computer, Mr. S suddenly whispered, "Do you always have sex with your wife in this bed?" "Ah!" Thank goodness, Mr. S's initiative to probe my wife's and my privacy gave me an opportunity.

Hearing my "Ah," Mr. S mistakenly thought I was unhappy and immediately explained that he was just asking out of curiosity. I immediately interrupted him, saying, "That's not what I meant. What can't we brothers say!" Mr. S immediately looked at me and whispered that he had simply been thinking about this question because of my wife's recent changes.

I deliberately retorted, "Really? What changes have you noticed? She's still the same!" S immediately countered,

"Don't you think your wife is becoming increasingly sexy, even bordering on slutty?" I knew I had to pause the discussion about my wife at this point, and instead change the subject, starting a conversation about real feelings with S, emphasizing our similar views on sex. As we talked, S seemed to understand what I meant.

After chatting for a while, I suddenly changed the subject and asked, "S, what made you say my wife is sexy and provocative? Tell me the truth, is it really like that? We're brothers, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. Besides, you know I'm very clear about separating love and sex." S paused for a moment, looked at the ceiling, and said, "Hey, don't blame me for telling you. Actually, before, I just thought your wife was very beautiful, but after something I discovered recently, her image keeps popping into my head." I smiled and said, "Go on." S continued, "Recently, I've noticed your wife dresses very revealingly, especially sexy. Just two weeks ago, when we went out for a barbecue, your wife happened to be sitting across from me, and guess what I saw? Well, her skirt was too short, and I could see everything underneath." "I knew she wasn't even wearing underwear." At this point, S swallowed, seemingly still wanting more, and continued, "That afternoon, I felt like I was possessed. My eyes never left your wife's skirt; I could see her genitals clearly. I kept secretly peeking, thinking your wife hadn't noticed. But I was so engrossed in watching that when you called me to chat, I finally realized what was happening. When I looked up, I saw your wife's eyes were fixed on me!

I thought, 'Oh no, how am I supposed to explain this?' But before I could figure it out, your wife seemed unfazed and looked away. But instead of closing her legs because she knew I was peeping, she opened them even wider, giving me an even clearer view—I could even see her wet vulva!" As I listened to S, I imagined that scene, which thrilled me to the extreme. I immediately asked, "And then what? What else happened?" S looked at me in surprise, "You're not angry after hearing this? And then? There was no 'and then.' But from then on, I really envied you. Your wife isn't just beautiful on the outside, she's also reached the pinnacle of womanhood." After hearing S's story, I knew my chance had come, and I said to him seriously, "Did you want to sleep with my wife? Or something else?" S was shocked and immediately explained, "Brother, don't misunderstand. I admit I peeked at your wife's private parts, and I also admit that when I was impulsive..." " I've fantasized about sleeping with your wife.

But fantasizing doesn't mean I'll actually do it. Because I know that would be unfair to my brother, and even more so, an insult to your wife!" "Hey, don't be so nervous," I interrupted S. "I understand you, I won't be angry or doubt you. Here's the thing, to be honest, my wife has been trained to have the same sexual views as you and me. Actually, you don't need to worry. To be frank, I have reason to be sure my wife is deliberately exposing herself to you, because you're the sexual object of her fantasies!" "Really?!" S exclaimed. I said, "Of course! Why would I lie to you? She's my wife, would I joke like that? If you don't believe me, I'll show you something." S looked pleased and asked:

"What is it?"

And so, quite naturally, I showed S the erotic photos of my wife on my phone and computer. S kept swallowing hard as he looked, muttering excited things. Finally, I slowly fell asleep. When I woke up the next day, I found S was gone, leaving me a note. It read: "Thanks, brother. This is our secret forever. I know what to do. Also, don't be offended; I selected the most lewd ones and saved them via Bluetooth. I promise I won't share them." I smiled. It really was a dream, and a dream that had come true.

Just then, I heard the door open. It was my wife returning. As soon as she came back, she eagerly asked me,

"How was it?" I looked at her without saying anything, only showing her the note. My wife stared at it for a full five minutes, then suddenly snuggled shyly into my arms, saying, "How am I supposed to see him after this? You won't regret it, will you?

You won't think I'm a bad person?"

I stroked her hair and said, "No, I'm the one who made you change, I definitely won't say you're bad. Besides, don't say you're embarrassed to see him. Didn't you show him everything down there at the barbecue last time?

You think I didn't know? Haha!" My beloved wife became even more charming, saying coquettishly, "Oh dear, it wasn't on purpose last time. It's your fault for not letting me wear underwear, and you even said..." "It's convenient to have fun anytime. It's all your fault!" Knowing that my wife was in a vacuum position, I put my hand inside her crotch, touching her as I said, "Okay, okay, it's all my fault. Not only will I let other men admire you, but I'll also let Mr. S have a real go at you when you're not looking. We'll take turns serving you." My wife was already in a fantasy world, her juices making my fingers sticky. She whispered, "As long as you're happy and willing, I'll agree. Hurry, don't stop." Amidst my wife's moans, I entered her body again.

From then on, Mr. S became an admirer of my wife's erotic photos. Whenever there were new photos, Mr. S would definitely look at them and select the ones he liked to take home and keep permanently. The reason I wasn't worried about Mr. S distributing the photos was simple: Mr. S's character was trustworthy. Those erotic photos of my wife that he brought home were nothing more than tools for his masturbation, and with his intelligence, he would definitely think that one day he would insert his big thing into my wife's body.

Chapter Three: The Weekend Dinner

One early summer afternoon in 2009, my beloved wife and I had spent the entire day entwined in bed, indulging in each other's bodies. While we were still immersed in the sea of desire, my wife's phone rang. I didn't care, my hands still kneading her breasts, my lower body thrusting rhythmically faster because of the ringing.

Then, with great effort, my wife reached for the phone and said, "Ah, honey, stop, stop... it's Manager W (female) calling me." It was my wife's department manager; a call at this time was truly a downer. I verbally agreed, but my actions showed no sign of stopping. My wife couldn't do anything about it, because deep down she didn't want me to stop either. So, my wife answered the phone, forcing herself to breathe.

I couldn't hear what was being said on the other end, nor did I care. I was only focused on thrusting hard, simultaneously enjoying a strange thrill, imagining that the person on the other end, hearing my wife's panting, had no idea that she was being brutally fucked naked by her man. My wife kept replying "okay, okay" on the phone, unable to say anything else.

A minute later, the call ended, and she breathed a sigh of relief, suddenly hugging me tightly and erupting wildly like a volcano.

Less than ten minutes later, I couldn't bear her wanton moans any longer, and a surge of heat erupted into her mysterious palace, and we both reached the highest point.

Lying in bed, my wife said weakly, "Honey, I'm so sorry, I can't have dinner with you tonight. Manager W just asked me to go to the HHS restaurant around 5 pm." "Huh? What's wrong? Work assignment?" My wife continued, "Sigh... the tax bureau has been auditing the company's accounts lately, and there are some problems.

There's nothing I can do; to solve this, I just have to treat them to meals and give them gifts." I quickly said, "It's okay, work is important. Just come home early after dinner." My wife was touched and said,

"Honey, you're so good. I'll reward you when you get back!"

Actually, I had no choice. My wife works in the finance department, and Manager W has a good relationship with our family, so he specially arranged a tax position for her. This job is relatively easy; it's just a routine trip to the tax bureau at the end of the month, not much to do otherwise. Besides, my wife works for a large state-owned enterprise, and business dinners like this one probably only happen three times a year at most. After all, the tax bureau doesn't always have any special tasks to keep bothering them. But since I'm also a businessman, I know those people at the tax bureau pretty well, so my only worry is that they might deliberately make my wife drink too much that night.

It was 5 o'clock in the blink of an eye, and my wife quickly got out of bed. I lay lazily in bed, admiring my wife's body. My wife opened the wardrobe and carefully selected clothes. My wife is quite different now that she's been "developed"; she meticulously dresses herself up whenever she's going out or even just at home.

Finally, she chose her clothes. I watched as she put on her underwear first. It turned out she had chosen a black lingerie set, a style I quite like. First, the bra was openwork; it was more like a fixed underwire with silk lace trim. After putting it on, her breasts stood proudly erect, and her nipples, still like two tiny beans from the recent excitement, were clearly visible.

As for her underwear, it was even more outrageous. Several black straps were linked together, and the crotch design was the most unique. Unlike the usual thongs, it had an extra strap, essentially two straps wrapping around her genitals from front to back. If she wasn't careful, her labia would get caught on the straps, rubbing back and forth with each step. Whenever this happened, she would fantasize about a man's fingers constantly exploring her alluring private parts.

Next, she put on a pair of open-crotch black stockings, saying she was worried it would be a bit chilly at night and didn't want to get cold from her feet. While her inner clothing seemed complete, it actually left her private parts completely unprotected. Not only was it unprotected, but watching her in this outfit made me even more aroused. Reluctantly, to avoid delaying her work, I could only urge her to hurry up, otherwise I wouldn't want her to leave the house.

My wife smiled and said, "I just want you to see this, to think of me, and to think about how we can continue our passion when I get back." Even so, she quickly put on a pink, low-cut tank top, her nipples clearly visible, paired with a super-short black skirt that barely covered her hips, and left. Just as she left, I suddenly felt a tightness in my chest, a premonition that tonight would be unusual… After my wife left, I got up and ate something quick to fill my stomach, then lay in bed, dozing off to get some rest and wait for my beloved wife to come home.

I woke up groggily, and when I opened my eyes, it was past 10:30 pm. "Huh, wasn't my wife supposed to come home after dinner? Why is she so late?" I thought to myself, but I resisted the urge to call. I got up, drank some water, and was about to take a shower when I heard the door lock click. My wife was home.

I excitedly went to the door to greet my beloved wife, hoping my passion would be met with a fervent response from her that night. But when I first saw my wife, I felt something was off. First, she looked listless, and her face was flushed; second, there were chafing marks on the hem of her black dress, with faint white stains. I had many questions that I needed her to answer, but I held back, knowing she needed rest. I decided to wait until we were in bed.

After washing up, I rushed back to the room and saw my wife lying lazily on the bed, still fully clothed. I gently got into bed and tenderly hugged her, asking, "Honey, what's wrong? Are you tired?" My wife was silent for a moment, then quietly replied, "Ugh, I'm exhausted. You exhausted me this afternoon, and I didn't expect to have to entertain guests tonight." I immediately smiled apologetically, not daring to upset her.

My wife continued, "We were supposed to arrive at 5:30, but we got stuck in traffic on the way. We finally got to the restaurant around 6:00. I called Manager W to ask which private room we were in, but after she told me the room, she told me she couldn't come and I had to go alone. I asked her who was with me, but she said, 'Who cares who? We'll just eat, pay the bill, and arrange a foot massage, that's all.'" I listened quietly to my wife's complaints. "When I got to the private room, there were four men sitting inside, already eating. One was a deputy director, two were section chiefs, and the other, I later learned, was the owner of the HHS restaurant. The owner's surname was L. He was big and burly, with the air of a boss, but my first impression of him was bad from the moment I entered the room; his eyes were fixed on me with a lecherous gaze." My wife poured out her grievances about dinner as if she had suffered a great injustice, but I knew from her that the matter was far from over. I knew my wife wasn't the type to hold grudges; it must have been the later events that made her connect the earlier unpleasantness to her emotions. I held back, deliberately changing the subject from dinner and starting to tease my wife. She sensed my intention and cooperated readily. What she didn't know was that I was holding back; I needed to arouse her fully before I could get the details of what would happen later that night.

Soon, she couldn't resist my fingers stroking her, and even more so, she couldn't resist my compliments on her lewd attire. Just as she was eagerly pushing my penis into her vagina, I slowed down and began to reveal my true purpose.

I casually whispered in her ear, "Honey, tell me, did someone else sleep with you?" Hearing this, she feigned ignorance, making muffled noises to avoid the question. But I wasn't easily fooled, and immediately and firmly stated that I had to find out, or I wouldn't give up. Pressed, she finally managed to recount the events of the night in broken sentences.

It turned out that my wife only learned after arriving at the restaurant that Manager W couldn't attend the banquet due to other commitments. Because of her provocative attire, she had been targeted by Boss L and one of the section chiefs from the moment she entered the private room, and they deliberately positioned her between them. Since it was a business dinner, drinking was inevitable, and my wife was prepared to go all out, knowing she couldn't avoid it alone.

Boss L had specially arranged his private stash of dark beer, and everyone, including my wife, went to the lower level. In a dinner where only one woman was present, my wife became the target of everyone's attention. The four men found various excuses to get her drunk, but my wife wasn't stupid; she racked her brains to find various reasons to refuse.

As the dinner progressed, the atmosphere became increasingly lively with the drinking, and it was because of this that Boss L, emboldened by alcohol, began to grope my wife under the cover of the table. At first, my wife tried to endure it, but seeing that she didn't resist, Boss L became even more aggressive. Suddenly, his large hand slipped under her skirt from her thigh, immediately discovering that she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

At this moment, the wife instinctively tried to grab L's hand, but she couldn't make a big movement lest the leader sitting opposite her notice something amiss. However, her strength was no match for L's. Helpless, she could only move her chair to the other side to increase the distance between them.

Just as she finally managed to shake off L's groping hand and breathed a sigh of relief, another hand suddenly appeared, this time reaching for the deepest part, as if it knew her secret about her underwear beforehand. It turned out to be the section chief. This damned section chief had actually already discovered that his wife wasn't wearing anything under her skirt. He had been itching to act when he saw L groping his wife's private parts, but the distance made it difficult to make a move. Unexpectedly, his wife had offered herself up.

At this point, the wife was extremely frustrated. She continued drinking nonchalantly at the table, while under the table, a man was invading her. No, not just one man, but two men. It turned out that after taking advantage of her, the boss L couldn't bear to let the section chief enjoy himself alone, so he shamelessly moved closer to my wife.

As the alcohol gradually took effect, the wife's initial disgust turned into a stimulating enjoyment. A few times, she even felt a spasm below, almost making her cry out. The alcohol, like an aphrodisiac, amplified her desire. Finally, unable to endure the torment any longer, she pinched the hand below to signal it to be removed, then immediately got up and hurriedly walked out of the private room without saying a word. She turned a corner and ran into the restroom.

Once inside and locked the door, she felt burning with lust. As she said, she desperately wanted a man to suddenly penetrate her and relieve her surging desire. Unable to do anything else, she lifted her skirt and began masturbating with one hand, while the other hand continuously caressed her breasts.

As this masturbation reached its climax, she closed her eyes, completely immersed in erotic fantasies. The wife fantasized that her boss, Mr. L, had followed her into the restroom, that his hairy hands were caressing her entire body, and that he was pulling out an enormous penis from his zipper, which she couldn't resist sucking... She was lost in this fantasy, feeling it all so real.

Just as she was becoming dazed with the approaching climax, she suddenly felt someone press down on her from behind, lifting her buttocks high with both hands. In that instant, the straps of her panties covering her private parts were pulled aside, revealing the fullness of a penis beneath her. At that moment, she realized that none of it had been a hallucination; someone had really sneaked in and taken advantage of her.

She felt incredibly ashamed, but the pleasure that followed instantly replaced the humiliation. She could no longer struggle or refuse; both her inner needs and physical sensations clearly conveyed a message to the man behind her: she desperately needed it and couldn't stop.

In that cramped restroom, my wife's sexual desire was finally released. After hundreds of thrusts, the man behind her couldn't resist her lust any longer. Suddenly, his lower body spasmed, and a surge of heat penetrated deep into her body. At the same time, my wife couldn't help but let out a soft "Ah!" as they both reached orgasm. As

the desire subsided, my wife slowly regained her senses. She heard the man behind her whisper in her ear, "Little slut, it felt so good to fuck you!" Only then did she recognize the man's voice as that of Boss L. It turned out that when Boss L saw my wife get up and leave, he guessed she had gone to the restroom because of her burning desire. He made an excuse to follow her out, retrieved the key from the counter, and quietly opened the door to enter the restroom.

Boss L slowly withdrew his penis, helped my wife up, and the two of them tacitly began to straighten their clothes, then returned to the private room one after the other as if nothing had happened.

After my wife finished speaking, she looked at me in horror, but I told her, "It's over. Just treat it as a dream!" Because I knew that this outcome was my own doing. I gently embraced my wife and kissed her, our lower bodies naturally merging into one, showing her through my actions that I loved her.

Chapter Four: My Friend's Wedding

After the unexpected incident at that weekend dinner party, my beloved wife repeatedly emphasized that the boss hadn't actually entered the restroom to assault her; it was just a fabrication she made up to increase the excitement of our enjoyment. However, the groping in the private room and the masturbation to orgasm in the restroom were real.

Hearing this, I still declared to my wife that regardless of whether it was real or a fantasy, my feelings for her would never change because of physical infidelity. Whenever I said this, my wife would become even more agitated, insisting that I believe she hadn't been assaulted by another man. At these times, I could only repeatedly say, "I believe you, I believe you," before she would calm down.

The days flew by, and it was now 2009. My wife and I's life wasn't dull at all. As time went on, my wife became more accustomed to my strange requests, and she also longed for the excitement of new sexual experiences.

One month in 2009, a friend of mine was getting married on a Sunday and sent me an invitation. Before I knew it, the date for the banquet had arrived, but I completely forgot. It was past 11 a.m. and my wife and I were still sleeping in, completely naked. Luckily, some friends knew I had a bad memory and called to wake me up. When I looked at the clock, my head was spinning, so I quickly woke my wife up.

My wife was woken up by my noise and immediately became annoyed, saying, "I'm not going. You go by yourself. I want to sleep." "No way! My friend's invitation says both husband and wife must attend. How can you not go?" I said, pulling at her as I got dressed. Unable to resist my pleading, she finally got up.

In her groggy state, she grabbed a top and skirt from the bedside table and started putting them on, not realizing she wasn't even wearing underwear. Time was short, and I didn't have time to say anything before rushing to the bathroom to wash up. By the time I was almost done, she was already slowly getting ready. I was furious but couldn't vent my anger, so I hardened my heart and thought, "Hmph! I was going to remind you about wearing underwear, but now you can forget about it." And so, my wife dragged her feet until midnight before we finally left. We were definitely going to be late, and I really hoped we wouldn't be caught in the ceremony when we got back in—that would be even more embarrassing. We drove off immediately after getting in the car. It was only then that my wife realized she was completely naked, but she knew I wouldn't allow her to go back and put it on.

I glanced at my wife; she was sitting in the passenger seat, pouting. Her white t-shirt, made of Lycra, clung tightly to her skin, showing off her curvaceous figure. Luckily, the t-shirt had a design on the front, otherwise her nipples would have been faintly visible. She

was wearing a new denim mini-skirt, but because it was new and the denim was still stiff, it rode up a few centimeters as she sat down. A few centimeters wouldn't normally be a big deal, but the problem was that the skirt was already incredibly short; even standing, it barely covered her private parts from the front, not even reaching her upper thighs. Now, it looked... well, let's just say it was shocking. If my wife hadn't deliberately covered herself with her hand, half of her private parts would have been exposed.

My wife noticed the problem and anxiously asked me what to do, blaming me for not reminding her to wear a bra. I laughed and said, "What does underwear have to do with it? Even if you wore it, it's the same as not wearing anything, since it's all sexy lingerie. It just gives you a little more psychological comfort." However, I still reassured my wife that the skirt was like that, probably because the car seat was low. The hotel seats were standard backrests, so it shouldn't be a problem, and there was a tablecloth to cover us. My wife agreed.

We sped to the hotel, and as soon as we got out of the car, I dragged my wife quickly towards the restaurant on the second floor. Luckily

, my friend had saved us two seats. My wife shouted as she ran, "Slow down! You're exposing yourself!" I looked back and saw my wife's breasts bouncing up and down as she ran, very alluring. But that wasn't all; her damn denim skirt had also ridden up to just below her waist, completely exposing her lower body. Fortunately, there weren't many people in the hotel lobby at that moment, otherwise we would have been completely exposed to a naked woman. My wife quickly pulled the skirt down and adjusted herself, and then we slowly made our way to the restaurant.

Upon entering the restaurant, I found the ceremony hadn't started yet, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I started looking around for my other friends so I could quickly find seats. I soon spotted my friends among the many tables. As I led my wife towards them, I noticed many men's eyes were drawn to her, and a few were whispering amongst themselves. I vaguely heard them praising how sexy she was and expressing envy at how lucky I was to be beside her… Hearing this, I felt a surge of pride. My wife, too, blushed, her vanity greatly satisfied, making her even more alluring.

When we reached our seats, Mr. S had reserved two seats for my wife and me next to him. Seeing the lively atmosphere at my friends' table, I asked my wife to sit between Mr. S and me. After settling in, I began chatting with my friends. My wife knew she couldn't sit down abruptly, fearing her skirt might accidentally reveal too much, so she slowly and gently pulled down her skirt, holding it up with both hands.

Once seated, she immediately draped a tablecloth over her thighs to cover her burgeoning genitals. At a friend's wedding banquet, we all drank and chatted freely. I'm the kind of person who loves to stir things up and create a lively atmosphere, so the atmosphere at our table was incredibly lively, with everyone drinking and chugging each other's drinks.

In my excitement, I didn't neglect my wife. Under the influence of alcohol, my left hand, which was close to hers, started to wander, reaching under the tablecloth and groping up her thigh. My wife had been sitting with her legs together to avoid being exposed, but suddenly feeling my touch, she cooperated by slowly straightening her legs and gently opening them slightly so my fingers could reach her sensitive G-spot. It

was incredibly stimulating. In a banquet hall with dozens of tables, among so many people, I was masturbating my beloved wife.

At that moment, my brain was flooded with excitement, and desire filled my eyes; I didn't perceive any danger. My wife, under my influence, was just as oblivious to the presence of others.

Mr. S, sitting next to my wife, quickly noticed the change in her expression and, seeing the awkward position of my left hand under the table, guessed what was going on. As I mentioned before, Mr. S had seen countless erotic photos of my wife and heard about our lewd past. Therefore, he was now fantasizing about the lewd scene under the tablecloth.

I noticed Mr. S's eyes darting around, glancing at my wife's lower body every now and then, but I wasn't afraid because I trusted him. So I turned my head away and chatted with others to conceal my aroused behavior. While my wife was enjoying the ministrations, she suppressed her rising passion, maintaining a very upright posture and not even glancing around, so no one would notice anything amiss.

Finally, Mr. S couldn't resist any longer. He deliberately moved closer to my wife and started chatting with her, intentionally placing his right hand on the back of her chair to draw them closer. My wife couldn't do anything about it; she didn't know Mr. S had seen through our teasing and could only offer perfunctory replies.

S, feeling his act had succeeded, decided it was time to act. Using the noise of the restaurant as an excuse, he pretended to whisper in my ear to make sure I could hear him, then turned his entire body towards my wife, bringing his mouth close to her ear. The crucial move was to smoothly move his other hand under the tablecloth and, without my wife noticing, firmly grasp her thigh.

Only then did my wife realize S's intentions, but it was too late. Pushing his hand away would expose our affair due to the force of the movement. I also noticed his hand, though I didn't touch it. I knew I had to play dumb and not embarrass my wife. After a moment's

thought, I immediately knew the best course of action was to remove my hand. So, I reluctantly withdrew it, using the excuse of getting up to offer a toast. After that, I could only imagine what happened under the tablecloth.

Even as the party was about to end, S's hand never left my wife's body. I could feel S's face growing increasingly red, his breathing becoming rapid and labored, proving that his hand had thoroughly explored my wife's private parts. My beloved wife had absolutely no secrets from his touch.

Just as the party was about to end, S tactfully withdrew his large hand, which was covered in my wife's vaginal fluids, and smiled contentedly at her. My wife, however, was ashamed of having her private parts violated by her husband's friend. I, on the other hand, pretended to know nothing and said goodbye to my other friends before the party ended.

After saying goodbye, I turned to my wife and asked, "Shall we go?" Startled by my sudden question, my wife snapped out of her reverie and nodded, her eyes still blurry. Although she was now fully awake, she had forgotten one crucial thing—her denim skirt.

Perhaps wanting to quickly escape this humiliating and lewd banquet, she pushed her chair back and immediately stood up. Unfortunately, her denim skirt, due to the sudden movement, was pulled up above her hips. The recent vaginal fluids, glistening against her dark pubic hair, completely exposed her private area to her friends at the table. Luckily, she reacted quickly, pulling her skirt down in a flash, restoring her composure. Although it was only for a moment, I could sense the lustful fire burning in the eyes of two or three of my friends, ready to erupt at any moment.

I hadn't expected such a blunder before leaving. Without time to think, I could only pretend nothing had happened and drag my wife away quickly, heading home.

Chapter Five: The Unexpected

Incident at the Bar Under my constant guidance and indoctrination, my wife had become quite open about sex and understood the importance of enjoying sexual pleasure in life.

It was just an ordinary weekend. My wife, as usual, was at home wearing sexy lingerie. It was really just a few strings and three small pieces of transparent fabric, her proud breasts protruding, and her pubic hair clearly visible. Stimulated by this, I teased her from time to time, arousing her desire to the point of explosion, but I didn't make love to her. I had already made plans to have dinner with friends that weekend, and I was hoping for something exciting tonight. The fantasies about my wife were surfacing uncontrollably.

My wife understood my thoughts and just scolded me for being a lecherous man, always taking advantage of her. But despite her words, she was still very cooperative. Before we went out, she specifically asked me how I should dress. I knew she already had her own ideas, so I said, "Whatever you want, you'll look the most beautiful and sexy no matter what." Hearing my sweet words, my wife happily went into the room to get ready.

After about ten minutes, I called out, "Let's go, stop dawdling, our friends are waiting for us at the hotel." My wife finally emerged from the room, looking shy. I stared at her, my eyes widening. The thin rope around her neck told me she was still wearing that little triangle bra covering her nipples, and over it was a loose-fitting, one-shoulder white silk off-the-shoulder top with large floral patterns. She wore a tight-fitting black silk skirt, super short, that hugged her shapely buttocks tightly, without any visible panty line, showing off their smooth, elastic shape. She wore thin black stockings.

Seeing my dazed expression, my wife smiled seductively and said, "Have you seen enough? Let's go, you little pervert." I quickly snapped out of it, took her hand, and said as we left, "Not enough, not enough. I'll make you happy tonight." We drove to the hotel as agreed. It wasn't until I was in the car that I realized my wife really wasn't wearing underwear. Her dark pubic hair and fleshy pink vulva were faintly visible through the thin black stockings, making me incredibly uneasy while driving.

At the dinner table, my friends were all captivated by my wife's attire, their eyes constantly darting over her. It wasn't surprising, really; besides my wife, the other three were men, including my brother, Mr. S.

My wife was still shy around Mr. S. Learning from her previous experiences, she knew he was a lecherous man and, fearing further harassment and humiliation in public, deliberately chose a seat with someone between them, avoiding sitting next to him. Mr. S understood this too, pretending not to notice as he sat opposite my wife, while I saw everything clearly.

The hour-long dinner passed quickly amidst toasts and conversation. Everyone was tipsy, and my hand kept caressing my wife's crotch under the table, my fingers rhythmically poking her vulva through her stockings. My constant stimulation made her face flush even more. At

this point, one of my friends got up to pay the bill. Seeing it was the weekend and I didn't want to go home so early, I suggested we go to a bar. S immediately agreed, "Great, let's have some fun, I approve." My wife's legs trembled slightly; I knew she was fantasizing about something exciting. She probably wanted to say something, but she nodded in agreement.

The other two friends said they had to leave, but I knew they didn't have female companions and felt it wouldn't be fun with just a few men. "Hey, surely it would be fun with my wife here?" I thought. "S is so smart." And so, my wife, S, and I went to the bar to continue our activities. Just as my wife got up and walked towards the restaurant door, I noticed from behind that her inner thighs were glistening with a trail of vaginal fluid. It turned out she had been aroused and was now wet. I'm sure Mr. S saw it too. He, emboldened by the alcohol, naturally walked up to my wife, hooked his arm around her waist, and said, "Sister-in-law, let's go, let's go drinking and have a drink." I quickly followed, and the three of us hailed a taxi to our lively V Bar. (We didn't drink and drive, so we took a taxi.) We got out of the taxi in front of the bar. My wife and I went upstairs to find seats, while Mr. S paid the fare since he was sitting in the front. From the moment we entered the bar, my wife became the focus of many strange men. Her slightly disheveled hair, her bare shoulders exposed in the night, even revealing half of her right breast, and her tight skirt swaying with her steps, hugging her shapely buttocks.

I asked my wife, "Do you like being stared at so intently? Are you afraid of what I might do?" Leaning on my arm as we walked, she replied, "Since I dared to come, I'm not afraid. Besides, I want to try new games with you." Entering the bar, we were greeted by a bustling crowd, the energetic high-energy music mingling with the shouts of DJs—a truly lively scene. The bar's layout was simple, shaped like a "回" (hui), with booths forming a circle around a DJ counter in the center, surrounded by numerous small round tables. There were only three of us, and we finally found a table near the DJ counter. S followed closely behind and found us too. At the bar, it's all about drinking, playing dice, and when the music is up, people jump and play around the table.

I hugged my wife tightly from behind, supporting myself against the table, her elbows on the surface, while S leaned close to us. Actually, I didn't go to the bar to drink anything; it was just that I was driven by lustful thoughts about my wife. I wanted to use the alcohol to my advantage and have sex with her in public.

My wife understood me and stopped resisting me from the start. With S there, many daring sexual fantasies kept popping up. S was also very understanding; he didn't show any lustful behavior towards my wife at first. Instead, after ordering a bottle of liquor, he invited my wife to play dice with him, and she couldn't refuse.

At this moment, I wasn't idle either. I hugged my wife tightly from behind, pressing her against my chest. My hands were working up and down; my left hand kept groping under her clothes, while my right hand reached under her skirt and caressed her. All of this was done secretly under the dim light and the cover of the small round table.

My wife was panting, but she couldn't show it. At the same time, she had to roll the dice with S. But my wife wasn't in the mood to play, so she kept guessing wrong and kept drinking. Under careful observation, Mr. S gradually became aware of my actions. Growing bolder, he began to fondle his wife's breasts with his left hand inside her clothes, completely disregarding the fact that his arm had already lifted her top halfway up, exposing her fair, tender flesh.

Finally, his wife couldn't take it anymore and said to Mr. S, "I'm not playing anymore. I keep losing, and I'm almost drunk. I'd rather hug my husband and jump around." Mr. S smiled mysteriously, "Okay, okay, I'm almost drunk too. I'm going to the bathroom," and left.

His wife turned around and embraced him tightly, face to face. As she turned, my hand slipped out, accidentally lifting her top from the front, instantly exposing her two large, white breasts, which pressed against my chest—it felt incredibly good. I could sense from the corner of my eye that someone nearby had witnessed this moment of pure bliss, while his wife, lost in my arousal, was oblivious to everything else.

I reached behind my wife and adjusted her top, making it less noticeable, but only I knew the thrill of feeling the softness of her large breasts. My wife clung tightly to my neck and whispered urgently in my ear:

"Honey, I want it, I want you to do it to me." I replied, "How can we do that? Let's go somewhere else." My wife, with her eyes half-closed, leaned on my shoulder and said haltingly, "I can't walk... I can't walk... touch me down there later... it feels so good." So, I slipped my hands under her skirt and, through her stockings, grabbed her buttocks and stroked them incessantly, while we swayed to the music.

Just as I was enjoying my wife's body, Mr. S returned sometime earlier. Seeing that we were both holding each other tightly with our eyes closed, and not seeing my hands, Mr. S understood that my wife was being stimulated. He probably sensed the time was right, and silently placed his hands on my wife's slender waist, pretending to dance a slow sway with us. As

soon as Mr. S let go, he suddenly felt that his fingers were not touching silk clothes, but tender flesh. He then understood why my wife's chest was pressed tightly against mine; the front of her clothes had been lifted up above her breasts, but because the silk clothes were loose and the back hadn't been lifted up, it was completely invisible.

S felt the stimulation and involuntarily moved closer to my wife's back. His hands were no longer just lightly placed on her waist; instead, he hugged her tightly from behind, pressing them against her back. The three of us were now stuck together like sandwich fillings.

At that moment, my wife and I weren't thinking about anything else; we were completely immersed in our passion. I was no longer satisfied with touching her through her stockings. I forcefully tore at them from behind, easily revealing her soft, white flesh. My fingers kept probing into the crevice of her crotch. My wife cooperated, slightly opening her legs to stand.

S wasn't idle either; his hands were already grasping my wife's breasts, even lifting the fabric of her thin-stringed bra, his fingers teasing her nipples. With the increasing stimulation, my wife's cries grew louder, but they were drowned out by the even louder music.

My wife and I both sensed S's presence, but we pretended not to notice, especially since it was the kind of excitement we both longed for. S was no longer satisfied with ravaging my wife's upper body, but he couldn't bear to leave her proud breasts. He only touched them with one hand while the other moved down her body.

S was even more impatient than I was. As soon as his hand reached down, he forcefully tore at my wife's stockings. Since I had already ripped the back of her stockings, and with my continued force, the front stockings were easily torn by S. His bent hand directly touched my wife's clitoris. My

fingers accidentally touched S's. I was startled and embarrassed, opening my eyes to look at S. Unexpectedly, S was also looking at me, giving an awkward smile. I didn't know if it was directed at me or my wife, but he quietly said, "I didn't expect your sister-in-law to be without underwear. I've been wanting to enjoy this for a long time." I could only smile slightly, then closed my eyes and continued to ravage my wife.

The wife then reached down and grabbed Mr. S's hand, touching herself as she said, "Honey, I...I...need to...go...to...the...toilet." I immediately agreed, partly to escape the awkward atmosphere.

Mr. S, knowing the show was almost over, became even more lewd, his fingers already inside her vagina, probing and teasing. The increased intensity of his movements drew even more attention from the people at the nearby tables. My wife probably understood the situation and whispered, "S, don't...don't...let's go together...together...don't do this...honey, tell him to stop." S knew that if he didn't stop, my wife and I would get angry, so he immediately stopped, but still wouldn't let go of my wife, saying, "Sister-in-law, I can't help it." He then said to me, "Brother, you know I've always had feelings for your wife, so please don't hesitate, just grant my wish?" At that moment, I was too embarrassed to say anything, so I could only reply,

"Don't rush, let me take my wife to the restroom to tidy up first, we'll talk about it later." My wife nodded repeatedly when she heard this, and S, seeing this, didn't know what to say. He cooperated with me, slowly and quietly pulling down the front of my wife's top and tugging at her skirt. Only then did the three of us separate.

At that point, I didn't care what the people around us were guessing. I took my wife's hand and walked towards the restroom. The restroom at the bar was unisex, with a dozen or so stalls. My wife and I quickly went into an empty one.

Only now, under the bathroom light, did I notice my wife's appearance. Her face was flushed, her top was wrinkled, and her stockings were torn to shreds. Her eyes were glazed, and she murmured, "I want it, I want it..." She naturally lifted her skirt, sticking out her buttocks and presenting her vulva to me. I immediately unzipped my pants, pulled out my penis, and thrust it directly into her private parts. It felt smooth and slippery, her vulva already soaked with her juices.

With my entry, my wife cried out "Ah!" as if released. Our piston-like movements were like a world without people, oblivious to the suspicions of those outside trying to use the bathroom, shamelessly enjoying each other's bodies. I took off my wife's top and hung it on the doorknob, ripping off her bra, leaving her upper body naked for me to enjoy.

Just then, S called from outside, "Brother, open the door, let's use the bathroom together." I knew he was faking it; it seemed he was definitely going to have sex with my wife today.

My wife, while I was penetrating her, said, "What should we do? He's not doing this on purpose, is he, honey?" "I think it's because we haven't been out for so long, and S thought we'd already started doing it inside, so he couldn't hold back anymore," I said.

S vaguely heard which stall we were in and knocked on the door, shouting, "All the stalls are full! I really need to use the restroom, open the door quickly!" I wanted to laugh at that; he was really pretending to be in a real hurry to pee. Helpless, I could only stop, both annoyed and amused, and open the door while my wife hid to the side. As soon as the door opened, S rushed in impatiently, saying, "Sorry, I really had to." The three of us were squeezed together in the bar's restroom stall, and my wife was taken by S and me in that restroom stall. S was truly valiant; after being brought to orgasm by his wife's oral sex, he quickly took my place, penetrating her private parts. I was holding her from behind, my hands supporting her legs, allowing S to penetrate her directly from the front until he ejaculated. The most thrilling part was that when we were at our peak, we secretly opened the bathroom door a crack; thankfully, no one was outside.

From then on, S's desire for my wife intensified; and my wife became increasingly frenzied and wanton.

(Word count: 36515)

[The End]

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The Story of My Beloved Wife

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