After his wife returned from the doctor's

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

That day, my wife Astena came home from the doctor's and told me that she had a problem with her uterus and had to have it completely removed. This news surprised and shocked me. But such things happen frequently to women; many women have hysterectomies for various reasons. Although I found it emotionally difficult to accept, thankfully we already had three children, so we didn't need to worry about having more, and besides, I had already had a vasectomy.
My biggest concern was whether the removal of my wife's uterus would affect our sex life. Astena and I are both 40 years old, and we usually have a fairly frequent sex life. Astena told me that the doctor said the surgery wouldn't have much impact on our sex life.
However, the doctor was completely lying!
After the surgery, Astena completely lost interest in sex. Although she never said "no" to my sexual advances, it was clear she was just lying there to appease me, completely lacking the passion and excitement she had before the surgery.
Two months later, the situation worsened. During sex with my wife, she was treated like an object for masturbation, which I couldn't tolerate. I love her deeply, how could I treat her like that?
Asten's personality also changed drastically. She no longer cared about her appearance or whether she had gained weight. Although our love remained unchanged—we still hugged, kissed, cuddled, and leaned on each other—it had lost its sexual meaning.
Of course, I still had sexual desires, but seeking sexual pleasure outside the marriage was impossible for me; I didn't want to do that. Asten believed that love and sex were inseparable—if one spouse had sex with someone else, it was tantamount to telling the other that they no longer loved each other.
Once, I broke my leg and couldn't have sex for a long time, so I suggested that Asten find a lover, and they could break off the relationship once I could have sex with her again. This suggestion infuriated Asten, and we had a huge fight. For us, the quickest way to divorce was for one spouse to have sex with someone else and be caught by the other—and I didn't want to be caught! Some men might release their sexual desires by seeking out women outside of marriage, but I didn't.
So, I became obsessed with pornography. I bought pornographic magazines, 8mm pornographic films, and restricted videotapes as a means of masturbation. But soon, the videotapes and magazines became stale, so I had to find other ways to stimulate myself.
For a while, I wrote letters describing my sexual fantasies as reality and submitted them to the "Letters to the Editor" section of some pornographic magazines—such as *Gallery* and *Penthouse*—and was even selected as "Letter of the Month" several times, receiving small cash rewards. However, what stimulated my sexual desire the most was my erotic correspondence with others.
Once, I saw an advertisement in a wife-swapping magazine whose name I've forgotten. The advertisement said, "A happily married housewife wants to exchange erotic fantasies with you. Please send me your sexual fantasies, and I will tell you mine."
I wrote a letter to the person who sent the advertisement, and at the same time, I also placed the same advertisement in five other magazines with great interest. From then until the end of that year, I had corresponded with 28 people. My favorite correspondent was an old lady who lived in Boise, Idaho. She wrote a chapter of an erotic novel and sent it to me. She asked me to continue the novel and send it back to her.
Later, through our joint efforts, the novel reached 18 chapters. Then, she sold the novel to Greenleaf Publishing and gave me half of the royalties. Later, we collaborated on two more books in the same way. After that, I never heard from her again.
My sex life continued in this way for four years until one day the toilet in the upstairs bedroom broke down.
That day, Asten called my office and said that the toilet in the master bedroom bathroom was clogged. I told her to turn off the gas valve and that I would find a plumber to unclog it when I got home from work. When I got home that evening, Asten wasn't home; it was her bridge game. She played bridge with some friends every Tuesday and Thursday.
The bathroom floor was wet; it seemed a lot of water had leaked from the toilet. However, Asten had already mopped it. I grabbed some tools and a thick wire from the garage and started unclogging the drain. Soon, the full toilet water level dropped to normal. When I pulled the wire out, which had gone quite deep, I noticed something amiss. This discovery shocked me.
The wire I pulled from the toilet drain was covered in toilet paper, hair, and several condoms. But I hadn't used a condom in the past 15 years. How could these condoms be in my toilet?
Of course, there was only one answer, but I was finding it incredibly hard to accept. Every day, while I was at work, or every Wednesday and Friday when I went bowling with friends, Asten was having sex with other men at home!
Anger couldn't adequately describe my feelings. For so many years, I had endured the torment of sexual desire, while Asten was having sex with other men. I cleaned the bathroom, collected the evidence in a plastic bag, and hid it in the garage. That night, when Asten came home, I didn't mention what I had found.
The next day was Wednesday. I left home at my usual time, arranged my work for the rest of the week on my phone, and then drove to a car rental company, rented a car, and drove back to my neighborhood to hide.
It was a long day. I sat in the car from 9 a.m. until 2:15 p.m. when I finally saw a black pickup truck pull into my driveway and stop. A man got out, walked to my house, and rang the doorbell. Asten opened the door, and the man leaned down and kissed her before they went inside.
I usually get home around 5:30 p.m., so I wasn't surprised that the man left at 4:50 p.m. I drove the rented car back to the rental company to get my own, and then drove home.
When I got home, Asten was preparing dinner. I went upstairs to change, getting ready to go bowling.
Before coming downstairs, I lifted the bedspread and saw that the sheets were covered in stained liquid. Since she hadn't changed the dirty sheet, it meant she'd use it again later before changing it to a clean one, because she knew I was going bowling.
During the day, I'd called the captain of our bowling team to tell him I had something to do and wouldn't be playing that evening, asking him to find someone to cover for me. After dinner, I left home at my usual time and parked my car on the street near my house.
Half an hour later, the black pickup truck arrived again. Twenty minutes after the man entered my house, I got out of my car and walked to the truck. The door wasn't locked, and I found his driver's license in the glove compartment, noting down his name and address.
The man left 45 minutes before my usual return time. Watching him drive away, I followed this guy named Frank. He lived on the other side of the city, and I carefully watched him, making sure he entered the correct house before leaving.
When I got home, I wasn't surprised to see the bed with clean sheets. After Asten got into bed, I tried to keep my distance from her, not wanting to touch her body at all.
On Thursday, I changed cars and staked out the area all day, but found nothing. I called Asten and told her I wouldn't be home until late and that she shouldn't wait for me for dinner. Then, I continued to lurk around my neighborhood, watching to see what was going on.
When she went out to play bridge, I followed her, assuming she was going to Frank's apartment.
To my surprise, when she got close to Frank's apartment, she didn't turn right to go to his house, but turned left. Then, she continued walking to a bar about a five-minute drive from Frank's house, parked her car in the parking lot, got out, and went inside.
I parked my car across the street and waited. About 40 minutes later, Asten came out of the bar with a man (not Frank) and got into Asten's car. I followed them to an upscale residential area in the West Side, and then I went home.
Friday was the same as Wednesday: Frank came to my house after 2 p.m. and left before 5 p.m. That evening, I left home as usual to go bowling, but parked my car where I could see my front door to see if Frank would come back.
Frank didn't come, but another man did, and that man wasn't the one from the bar either.
What the hell is Asten up to? Three different men appearing in three different places and at different times? And I still have no idea what she did on Monday and Tuesday.
After watching the man enter my house, I drove to Walmart, bought some things I desperately needed, and then hid near my home. After Asten's guest left, I watched him turn the corner before driving into my driveway.
I carried the groceries from Walmart inside, went straight upstairs to the bedroom, and saw Asten changing the sheets, naked. She hadn't noticed me standing behind her, so she jumped in surprise when I threw the groceries on the bed. Turning around to see me suddenly appear, her face turned deathly pale.
I pointed to the shopping bags on the bed and said, "You might need these things. Since you change and wash your sheets so often, I imagine you need more sheets and detergent, right?"
Then I turned and went downstairs.
I grabbed a beer from the fridge and went down to my workspace in the basement to work on a recreational specimen box I'd been working on. Then I heard the sound of a shower upstairs, and about an hour later, I heard Asten coming downstairs; she seemed to have reached the basement. But I didn't turn around; I waited to see what she would say.
About 15 minutes later, I heard her mutter, "Why are you so angry?"
I turned to look at her. "Why am I so angry? I've seen my wife have sex with at least three different men, and you're asking me why I'm angry? You should be asking why I didn't think of killing someone!"
"Why do you care about these things? You don't need me, so what's wrong with letting someone else do it?"
"Someone else? I know at least three other men, and that's only since the day before yesterday! Who knows how many times you've come back to hug and kiss me after having sex with other men!"
"But you still haven't answered my question—why do you care about these things?"
"I can't believe it. For the past four years, because you told me you had no interest in sex anymore, I've only been able to release my desires through masturbation. For four years, I've tried so hard to suppress my desires and not do anything to betray you, just because you said having an affair is like telling your partner you don't love her anymore. You said sex and love are inseparable. But for the past four years, I've been solving my problems with my own hands, while you, you shameless bitch, have been cheating on me with so many bastards! You've done so many shameful things, and you still have the audacity to ask me why I'm so angry, why I care about these things!"
Hearing me call her a "shameless bitch," her body convulsed in pain. But what can you call a woman who's cheated on you with so many men?
She lowered her head, refusing to look me in the eye, and said, "I can't control myself, my sex drive is too strong. I have to find other men because you simply can't satisfy me."
I looked at her; it seemed she truly had lost control. I asked her what she meant, demanding an explanation for her statement. Listening to her explanation, I suddenly realized that although we seemed very close, there was a significant problem with our communication.
After her last surgery, her sex drive vanished completely, and she was very anxious, so she sought help from the doctor again. The doctor performed some tests and prescribed a lot of hormone replacement therapy. About three months later, she experienced a strong sexual desire again, but every time she wanted to have sex with me, I impatiently refused.
At that time, I thought she was only doing this because she felt obligated to fulfill her duties as a wife, and that my refusal was because I loved her too much and didn't want to use her, who had no sexual needs, as a tool for my own sexual gratification. However, she believed that I refused her because she had become unattractive, gained weight, and was no longer attractive to me. So, after several unsuccessful attempts to seduce me, she began to back down.
Six months later, at a party, a man made a move on her, and after being tormented by sexual desire for so long, she reluctantly had sex with him, and from then on, she couldn't stop. However, three months later, she broke off contact with that man because he wanted her to leave me and marry him. Asten didn't want to leave me at all because she still loved me deeply.
But she still had a strong sex drive; she needed the satisfaction of men, so she quickly started a relationship with another man, then broke up with him and found another, and things got increasingly serious.
"The craziest sex I've ever had!"
she said, "and it seems to be what I want most. I once had sex with seven different men in one week."
She looked down at the floor and said softly, "Several times, I had sex with seven men at the same time in one night."
I stared at her, utterly shocked. She had actually engaged in group sex with those men! This woman once told me that sex and love are inseparable, and that having an affair is tantamount to telling her partner she no longer loves him. Yet, she was having sex with seven men at the same time! For the past four years, while she was passionately having sex with those men, I could only stimulate my own sexual desire with pornographic images, movies, and novels, and release my desires through masturbation. Oh, I really want to cry!
I can't explain why my thoughts have changed. Before, when I broke my leg and couldn't satisfy Asten, I told her she could find a lover to satisfy her sexual desires, and her refusal made me uphold our love for her. When she couldn't satisfy me, I would never do anything to betray her. But later, she cheated on me, and went so far, found so many lovers, and even engaged in group sex.
Perhaps some people think that after I discovered her infidelity, after I knew she still had a strong sexual desire, we would start our sex life again. But I don't think that's right. I still love Asten, but her actions have betrayed and hurt me. I can't bring myself to approach her or touch her with a clear conscience.
Asten said she could wait three months, giving me time to carefully consider whether I could still accept her and continue living with her. If, after three months, I still couldn't accept her infidelity and forgive her, she would continue seeing those men. Three months passed, and after another three weeks, she went back to those men.
I moved out of the house, and for the next two months, we didn't discuss the matter again.
Divorce was inevitable.
Finally, I want to tell everyone that when doctors tell you things that won't significantly change your life, I suggest you listen to the opinions of a second, or even a third, person. Also, when your wife tells you, "No! I would never do such a thing!"
please don't easily believe her.

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/168199.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=168199&aspx=1

Last access time:

Previous Page : Autumn sex

Next Page : Young married women who like to have affairs

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

After his wife returned from the doctor's

comment Open a new window to view comments