Teasing his wife to expose her

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

(I) The Scene of the Incident:
I married her four years ago, but it wasn't until two years ago, after saving enough money, that I dared to let her have our first child.
In late June of this year, the weather was sweltering. My wife, who had been in the habit for the past two or three years, would
collect all the family's garbage into a bag after dinner and place it in the stairwell outside the door. Someone would come and collect it from the first floor to
the sixth floor around noon.
By the way, I bought an old-style six-story house, a secondhand one, on the third floor. There's an elevator, but the stairwell
requires passing through an iron gate on each floor, somewhat like a separate emergency escape staircase. Usually, the iron gates on each floor
are closed, as everyone uses the elevator. Therefore, residents on each floor collect their garbage in the stairwell before going to bed,
but place it at the corner of the middle staircase leading to the next floor (the stairwell is where the incident will occur).
Since my wife gave birth to our first child last year, she's gotten into the habit of finishing all the housework right after dinner, then
taking . Sometimes she just wears an undershirt, sometimes just a t-shirt (she seems to have gotten used to wearing only
a onesie maternity dress when she was pregnant). Then she usually uses the time between showering and going
to bed to gather all the indoor potted plants in the living room, sit down and slowly prune them. Finally, she collects the pruned flowers and leaves
along with the trash from all the trash cans and puts them in the corner of the stairwell I mentioned above.
Have you all noticed that she would run out to put out the trash dressed like this—just a single shirt? Even though
it was just going out the front door, walking two or three steps past the iron gate, down half a flight of stairs, and back—it only took five to seven seconds.
I hadn't paid much attention before, but in the year or so since my wife gave birth, I've suddenly started to find it
quite exciting. She thinks that leaving the door open temporarily, just walking a few steps to throw out
the trash and then folding it back up, is nothing. But what I'm thinking is: what if the wind blows the door shut? Wearing that,
wouldn't she…?
However, since I'm home, even if the wind did blow the door shut, I would help open it, especially
since our front door is very heavy (I chose it). So, it's understandable that my wife didn't take it seriously
.
And then, in June of this year, what if something unexpected happened? I did something
—because I couldn't resist my fantasies… Sigh! Thinking about it now, I was a bit outrageous.
That day, I was lounging on the sofa watching TV as usual, feeling a bit sleepy (I often
fall asleep while watching TV). But that day, I was pretending; I had a little plan in mind to play a prank on my wife. I waited two or three days
before seeing her come out of the shower wearing only a shirt—of course, she was wearing underwear!
I pretended to be asleep, squinting at her. The shirt barely covered her buttocks. Usually, I'm used to it and don't feel
anything special , but today was different. I was hesitating about whether to play this little prank on her, so I started imagining what would happen
if it succeeded… Oh! Just thinking about it made me inexplicably excited.
Hearing my wife open the door and leave, I immediately jumped up, tiptoed over, and pushed
the door a loud "click—bang!" Don't most doors have a peephole
? I quickly peered through the peephole and saw the iron door leading to the stairwell slowly closing
. Because the door has a self-closing vent, its slow closing meant
my wife had just pushed it open and gone down the stairs…
(II) The First Half of the Exposure Incident
Just as the iron door was about to close, it suddenly stopped. I saw my wife peek out. It's easy
to understand why she did this; she had just heard the door slam shut in the stairwell. So I guessed she was peeking out
to see if anyone was there before ringing the doorbell to wake me up!
But! The sound of our doorbell has been strange for the past three months. She's called several times, and I've gone to change it
, but I haven't. Actually, I've been lazy and have been fantasizing about what it would be like now…
So , for the past three months, after guests have rang the downstairs doorbell, my wife and I have
habitually opened our door a crack to let them come up.
Okay! Back to the main point. I saw my wife peeking out through the peephole, her head barely visible. I started imagining: if
someone came up the stairs at that moment, wouldn't they see her with only her lower body showing, and
given how she usually dresses... well, really, just imagining it made me feel hot all over. I haven't felt this hot
in a long time !
Then, I saw my wife, looking a little nervous, quickly walk out of the stairwell's iron gate and back to the front door.
She rang the doorbell , and sure enough, the bird's chirping sounded intermittent, like it was having a spasm, and then it stopped.
My wife knows that if I'm asleep, it takes more than three alarm clocks or a strong
shaking , so it's normal that this weak, spasmodic chirping didn't wake me. I watched as she stood outside the door
, constantly looking back at the stairwell's iron gate, her expression growing increasingly anxious. (Ha, that's satisfying!)
There were reasons why she kept glancing back at the stairwell gate:
First, she was afraid that someone or a neighbor might suddenly decide to climb the stairs (which I think is completely
unlikely );
second, she was worried that the doorbell downstairs might be louder, and she didn't dare go down to ring it;
third, she was afraid that the construction workers on the fifth floor might suddenly switch to using the stairs,
and then my wife would suddenly bang on the door to try and wake me up, but she didn't seem to be banging very hard;
then she went back to the stairwell gate, pushed it open, and used the doormat to keep it open. Hmm, my wife's reaction is pretty good! I didn't expect that if it was left open like that, she could at least hide
when she heard footsteps in the stairwell before I saw her banging on the door again, each time harder and louder, and starting to call out to me in a medium voice. Hmm... I kept looking through the peephole, fantasizing. But fantasies are just fantasies, and she's already doing quite well! Sigh… I think I should open the door , but I also want to take a closer look, to see her standing outside dressed like this. I love my wife's figure, especially her waist; because of her C-section, it's still around 25cm. And her breasts, which were already quite large, seem to have gotten even bigger after giving birth (I don't know if it's just psychological). She's only covered by a thin undershirt, not very transparent, but just seeing her long, white makes me want to have all sorts of wild thoughts. "Bang! Bang! Bang!" Wow, those three bangs were really loud! Looks like she's determined to rouse me in one go.

Come on, that's enough fun, I thought...
Just as I was hesitating whether to open the door, I didn't even notice that a man
was coming down the stairs from the upper floor! Because my face was right next to the door, I could hear the conversation outside.
At that time, my wife hadn't noticed that someone had come out behind her. It seemed like she hadn't looked back at the stairs for more than three minutes.
I saw the man still standing on the stairs, asking as he turned the corner to the upper floor, "
Miss ... what's wrong?"
(III) The middle of the exposure incident
... I will never forget the inexplicable excitement I felt at that moment. Although I couldn't
clearly , seeing his head staring straight at my wife, I
felt that he was staring intently at my wife's bare chest, which was only wearing a shirt!
I saw my wife shyly crossing one arm over her chest (trying to cover her breasts, which weren't wearing a bra), and the other
hand hanging down, pulling at the hem of her shirt. (I think I wanted to cover more of her thighs.)
Because my face was pressed against the door looking through the peephole, I could hear the louder conversations outside. I
saw the man, who seemed stunned or something, standing at the corner of the stairwell leading upstairs. I heard
him stammering as he asked my wife, "Miss, do you need help?" or "Miss, have you been robbed?"
or "Miss, don't be afraid..." and so on. I don't remember the exact order of the rest of the conversation because
I was... dizzy and excited at the time.
I also remember my wife maintaining the posture I just described, stammering, "It's okay...
it's okay ..." or "It's not what you think..." or "I wasn't robbed." etc. But
eventually, she managed to explain, in a disjointed way, how she ended up locked out.
Later, I heard other people's voices in the stairwell asking, "What's going on downstairs?" or "They're
arguing or fighting, mind your own business, hurry up and finish your work." That's when I realized the man
was a tiler working on the fifth floor.
I was even fantasizing about what would happen if I could get those four or five young men sharing a room on the fourth floor
down ! Those guys always had weirdly dyed hair and behaved rather improperly…
But that was impossible, because almost all the residents on each floor kept the iron gate to the stairwell closed. Only
the workers on the fifth floor would leave it open for construction purposes, which is probably why they heard it.
Then something even more exciting happened: I saw two more workers at the corner of the stairs, and I heard
the first worker say, “I’m not kidding you, there’s no fight going on in another apartment, is there?” and “There really is
a prostitute who needs help, right?” etc.
While I was excited by this scene, I also had my other hand raised, grabbing my door lock, ready to
pull it open and bring my wife inside if things went wrong. But then again,
I felt a little reluctant… In short, I was conflicted and exhilarated.
I saw the three workers go down the stairs to the iron gate of the stairwell. This time I could see them more
clearly than before. I noticed their faces were constantly moving up and down slightly, and one of them was even
boldly sizing up my wife (unfortunately, I couldn't see their eyes very clearly). However, I do remember hearing the
bolder worker (let's call him Worker A from now on) say something
like, "Miss, don't be afraid, we just want to help. You said your husband is dead asleep inside, how would you like us to help?" I also heard my wife
say things like, "I hope they go back upstairs and leave me alone," and then "I hope they can come downstairs and
ring our doorbell, which is quite loud," and so on.
Although worker A kept assuring my wife that they were just at the stairwell entrance and wouldn't get close, reassuring her not to be afraid
, when she suggested they go downstairs to ring the doorbell, no one was willing to come down.
They kept saying things like, "Using the downstairs doorbell probably won't wake your husband," or "We think we need a better
way." I figured they just wanted to keep the situation going and enjoy seeing my wife
dressed !
So, I watched them offer words of comfort, then suggest they think of another solution, or mutter to themselves about what to do
… and so on.
After a minute or two, one of the workers (he was darker-skinned, so I'll call him the "dark worker") offered a stupid
idea. Why stupid? Because he said, "Why don't you come upstairs, miss? We have
a phone ; you can definitely wake your husband that way."
Ugh… Hearing this, I thought I should open the door and bring my wife in. I figured if my wife
went upstairs , forget about making a phone call; it would definitely turn into a multi-person pornographic scene!
However, I heard my wife say, "Oh! Right, the phone, sir, could I borrow your phone from your waist
?" (Hehe~~ Seeing this, I wanted to take another look; my wife's reaction is very quick!)
Then I saw the black worker slowly pick up his phone, asking my wife for my home phone number.
Seeing this, I decided to wait for him to call, answer the phone, and open the door to end my perverted plan.
(IV) The more climax:
I looked back at the phone, intending to go and get it, but then I wanted to take another look. Just as I
turned from the peephole, the situation changed again...
I looked back through the peephole and first noticed worker A and another worker whispering to each other, and
at the same time I saw the black worker standing next to my wife, showing her his phone screen, saying he couldn't dial,
what was wrong, was the number correct, etc.
The two workers who had been whispering to each other came over, saying, "Why are you
so clumsy every time you dial a number?" The dark-skinned worker, keeping only a step or so away from my wife, said, "It really
won't !" He subtly moved the phone so my wife could see it, like fishing, forcing her
to lean closer to see.
Then the other worker walked in front of my wife and said, "He must have forgotten to add 02 again, it always
happens !" He took out his phone and said he'd try his, that his would definitely work.
At this point, I saw the three workers surrounding my wife: one on her left, one in front, and one to her right rear.
One said, "Miss, is this number correct?" When my wife turned her head to look, another worker moved
his head up and down, peeping at her body. When another worker interjected, "That's not right, let me try,"
another worker took over, pressing his lower body against my wife's buttocks while he groped her. Looking closely...
The men's pants were bulging in the front.
At that moment, I felt I really should open the door; if I went down any further, my wife might be tricked into going upstairs and gang-raped.
But then I felt a surge of excitement I hadn't felt in a long time.
Just as I was hesitating, I heard worker A walk towards the iron door of the stairwell, saying, "Miss, I know
, there's a window in the stairwell. The reception here is a bar or two better than over there. Come and see. Here, you can dial it yourself,
so I don't keep dialing the wrong number." Then I saw my wife take two steps forward and reach for her phone.
I remember she used her right hand, which was covering her chest, to take the phone. Even though
her back was to me, I could imagine that she wasn't wearing a bra, and her nipples would
be clearly visible through her thin shirt. At that moment, the black worker and another man stepped forward and leaned against my wife, immediately
blocking my view, but I could see their heads swaying as they looked down at my wife's
thighs .
I saw them surrounding my wife from both sides, rubbing and caressing her all over, perhaps
arousing resist and took my wife right there and then. So I reached for the door again.
But, "crack!"—I don't know if they hadn't handed it to her properly or if she hadn't caught it properly—my wife dropped the phone when she reached
for it ! I saw my wife apologize and try to squat down to pick it up, but worker A stopped her, saying,
"Let me pick it up myself." (I don't remember exactly how the action happened, but that's
roughly how it happened!)
When worker A stopped my wife from picking up the phone, I saw his hand seem to touch her
body, because I heard him say to her, "Ah, sorry, I didn't mean to touch you."
I then looked closer and realized that his hands had unintentionally touched my wife's chest.
Then I saw my wife take a step back, bump into the worker behind her, and lose her balance, about to fall backward.
The worker behind her reached out and caught her around the waist, stabilizing her. I saw four hands groping
and
groping my wife
's body. I wanted to open the door immediately, but then my hands didn't move because... I don't know how to explain it, I just kept watching quietly. At that moment, the worker put one hand on my wife's waist and the other on her wrist, saying, "Miss, don't scare us
, are you alright?" I think I heard my wife say very softly, "Ah... I'm fine, I'm fine..."
But her shirt was clearly pulled up high, revealing her entire underwear. Since my wife's underwear was
white, I believe that from the front, you could vaguely see a dark patch between her legs.
In the chaos, I heard worker A say something that changed the situation: "Hey! You're okay, but my
phone 's broken! Look, it looks like it's ruined after this fall!" Then, whether it was the worker supporting my wife's waist
exerting force, or my wife taking the opportunity to look forward, I saw her lean against worker A, looking at
her phone, saying, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry..." I also saw worker A deliberately press against my wife's body,
saying, "Look, there's no picture."
Wow! That's when I noticed that the worker supporting my wife's waist behind her, whether intentionally
or coincidentally, was pressing his hands against her waist, slowly moving them downwards. As a result
, her underwear, exposed by her shirt being pulled up, gradually slipped down, revealing my wife's white, fleshy lower right buttock, even
the upper part of her buttock cleft was clearly visible. The black worker stood to her right, staring at my wife's
buttocks without moving his head. (I think he was openly admiring her!)
My wife, however, remained oblivious, her attention solely focused on her phone. She held it carefully with both hands, muttering something
under her breath (I honestly forgot). I only remember worker A saying, "It's working now, restarting it works again
." Then he said, "Try calling from that window at the corner." At the same time, I saw
the worker pointing to the window at the corner of the stairwell, pushing her forward.
My wife obediently went up the stairs, but after only one step, I saw the hands supporting her waist
shift slightly, pulling her underwear down a little further. As if by unspoken agreement,
the worker holding her upper body pretended to help her up, and with a slight pull, her shirt rose even higher,
exposing her entire abdomen and more than two-thirds of her buttocks.
The black worker stepped forward from behind, running in front of my wife, still frozen there with his head down.
It was obvious he was checking if my wife's pubic hair was showing!
Although I was even more excited at that moment, I immediately turned back to look for the baseball bat on the shoe cabinet next to the door because I was afraid
the situation would get out of control and I would have to open the door to stop them. But there were three of them, and I needed to find a weapon!
After finding the bat, I gently placed it behind the door, and then I heard my wife's voice say, "It seems fine after turning it on,
you can try dialing." Then she walked up a few more steps of the stairs, saying, "Thank you, no need to hold on, I'm
walking steadily." etc.
But then I saw the worker take his hand off her waist and point to go up a few more steps to the corner
window. At the same time, the worker in front of her, A, pulled the phone away from my wife's hand, saying something like, "Miss,
I told to dial from the window, it won't work here." He kept trying to coax my wife to the corner. I also saw
the black worker at the entrance of the first stairwell fall in a very fake way, pretending to trip over the windbreak stone, saying, "This stone is really..."
while moving it away. Then I saw the iron door of the stairwell gradually close.
At this point, I felt the situation was getting increasingly serious. Once my wife reached that secluded spot, she would definitely
be gang-raped by those three workers. But at the same time, an unprecedented feeling of heat and excitement surged through my body.
The thought of my wife being stripped naked after the iron gate closed,
how those three workers would treat her in the stairwell—taking turns, or even having a one-on-one encounter—I imagined
her genitals being penetrated by other men, while they sucked on his penis, and her breasts
being fondled by a third worker… Although I felt extremely uneasy, I was also incredibly excited, which made me
hesitate to open the door and stop them.
The iron gate had been closed for over ten seconds, and my mind was still conjuring up those fantasies.
Good heavens! For the past six months, every time I think about it, I feel I must have a serious mental illness. Later
, the phone rang, bringing me back to reality. Of course, it wasn't my wife or the workers calling; it was my mother-in-law!
The day before, I had left my child at my in-laws' house, and they called to ask if the child could stay another day,
as they really liked my child.
Just a few words with my mother-in-law, I heard loud knocking and a cacophony of
voices outside the door, including my wife's voice: "Honey! Honey! Open the door... open the door quickly..." The workers chimed in, saying
things like, "Miss, we didn't mean any harm," or "Miss, don't misunderstand!" Others said,
"You really did get caught on the handrail!" or "We apologize! Don't be like that...
"
I quickly told my mother-in-law, "I'll call you back in five minutes." Then I turned around, grabbed a baseball bat in
one hand, and opened the door with the other. There, I saw my wife's shirt had a tear the size of a palm in the lower left corner, and she was on the verge of
tears , clinging to me and hiding behind me.
Then two of the three workers kept backing up the stairs, and the three of them kept saying things like, "Sir, don't
misunderstand!" or "Sir, I swear I meant no harm." And another one
said, "Sir, if you want to hit me, you can, but you have to listen to what just happened."
The black worker standing at the front, who wouldn't back down, kept bowing and saying, "Sir, please calm down,
please , please calm down. If I've done anything wrong, I'll stand here and let you hit me." Anyway, my mind
was a mess at that moment. I was both high and startled by the sudden phone call from my mother-in-law, and I felt like yelling at them about whether they had
really molested my wife. But it was all my fault, and...
oh dear! Anyway, I froze for almost ten seconds. Maybe it's because I'm 182cm tall and don't look friendly to begin with, but then I finally managed to
say a few words: "You're the workers upstairs, right? Go up first,
I'll come find you later..." === ... She cried and yelled, "Are you dead? You slept with your wife and don't even know what happened!" Ugh! This was the first time I'd ever seen her so angry since I'd known her. Then I saw her go into the room to get clothes and then into the bathroom, so I stood at the bathroom door apologizing and trying to comfort her. Seeing that my wife didn't respond, I got a little worried and opened the bathroom door, calling her by her nickname. I saw her sitting in the bathtub, her face weary. When she saw me barge in, she immediately covered her naked body with her hands in a panic. Looking at my wife's full breasts and fair skin, and remembering what had happened outside the door, I felt a surge of heat rising in my head… But suddenly, I seemed to see something that cooled me down, and I froze in front of the bathtub. Wanting to be absolutely certain, I bent down and quickly pulled away what she was trying to cover, then grabbed her hands and pressed them upwards. I saw two or three red marks all over her body. There were three or four non-parallel red, swollen scratches on the left side of her buttocks, near her pubic hair; another, which I noticed first , was three slightly reddish finger marks pointing upwards below her white right breast. Lifting my wife's right breast, I could see a complete, deep red palm print; then the third was on her right buttock, the entire area covered with numerous short, crisscrossing red marks, as if someone had forcefully scratched it with their fingernails. This…this…A reflexive surge of anger welled up in my mind, but I was immediately frozen by imagining what had happened behind the door for those two minutes. How those three workers had treated my wife , scratching her buttocks and groping her genitals, tearing and ripping the left corner of her shirt, and how roughly they had treated her right breast. Thinking of the lewd scene behind the door, my anger was actually dispelled by a surge of heat… Another “slap!” My wife broke free from my hand and slapped me again, glaring at me with a panting expression. That slap completely woke me up. I quickly stood up and said, "I'm going upstairs to confront them," and turned to leave the bathroom. I only remember that my wife seemed to bump into me from behind or try to grab me, which caused us both to lose our balance and fall to the ground. On the floor, she hugged me tightly and said some things that didn't want me to go up. I thought she must have been extremely frightened, and I started to regret that the joke had gone too far. I helped my wife back into the bathtub and comforted her, saying, "It's okay, I'll only be up for a moment." But she just held me tightly and wouldn't let me go up... So, that night, I don't know if those workers were really waiting outside the door, but I stayed by my wife's side almost the whole time, holding her to make her feel safe. (Sigh, I really want to punish myself.) The next day, my wife and I both took the day off from work, but around 9 o'clock, someone rang the doorbell downstairs, claiming to be the foreman of those workers. So I told my wife to continue sleeping in the room, and I waited at the door. As soon as I saw the five of them (oh! five people! What are they up to?) step out of the elevator, I stood in front of my house with my baseball bat in hand , waiting. The chubby guy who seemed to be the leader immediately bowed to me and apologized profusely. The other three followed suit, and the third one moved the money (it was money, mind you!) he was holding in front of me, saying he wanted to invite me to the restaurant downstairs to properly explain and apologize. I won't go into the details, so I'll skip to what happened at the restaurant that evening (I spent the whole day at home with my wife ). They roughly recounted what happened that day. The first half, what happened outside the door, was roughly the same as what I saw, except they didn't mention that they had boldly peeked at my wife's right buttock from the front and back. They also described borrowing the phone very naturally, without any of the calculated schemes I had seen to expose my wife. I didn't want to waste any more time outside the door, because I was eager to know what happened . They roughly recounted that after the iron gate closed, my wife, following their advice, climbed the stairs to the window, stood with her buttocks against the corner handrail, and started making a phone call. The phone was acting strangely, so they were all watching it. I thought to myself, "You were passing the phone back and forth between your hands, preventing my wife from using it." I could imagine they were all surrounding my wife, plotting something.

They continued, saying that after my wife picked up her phone, she didn't want to make the call anymore and wanted to go downstairs to go home. However, the
handrail was leaning against had a rusty part, and her shirt got caught on it. My wife was in a hurry to move
away, and without noticing, she pulled hard, and with a "ripping" sound, her shirt tore open. They all rushed over to help
my wife untangle her clothes, but because her shirt was torn and she was exposed, coupled with her anxiety and
embarrassment, she lost her balance and fell down the stairs after a struggle.
They added that the situation was a bit chaotic, and they just wanted to catch her quickly to prevent her from falling and getting hurt, so they all
tried to grab my wife with all their might. But the more they helped, the worse it got. Some people grabbed her shirt, some grabbed her underwear, but my
wife kept rolling down. In the end, not only was a large piece of her shirt torn, but her underwear was almost torn off, and
in the chaos, it seemed that my wife's body was scratched...
At this point, the five of them nodded deeply and apologized.
As I listened, I considered the most plausible scenario: I think the three of them first
distracted my wife with their phones, then secretly hooked the hem of her shirt onto the rusty,
protruding part of the handrail. Otherwise, how could they have coincidentally used the same trick they used outside the door, pretending to accidentally grope her, making
her feel ashamed and shift her body, then tripping her and causing her to lose her balance? They pretended to help
her up, but actually used this opportunity to molest her, and also to tear her shirt.
Then, as my wife rolled down the stairs, they pretended to help her, taking
the opportunity to molest her body. In the chaos, they even pulled down her underwear, leaving her almost completely naked. My wife must have struggled to break free,
resulting in them grabbing her breasts too hard and groping her buttocks too loosely,
leaving scratches on her body in many places.
So I coldly recounted what I had seen outside the door, but hadn't mentioned, in a hypothetical tone.
They all chimed in, saying things like, "Sir, don't talk nonsense!" and "Don't wrong
us !"
Then I coldly described the hypothetical scenario I had imagined happening behind the door, and they
suddenly fell silent. It seemed their account, though not entirely accurate, wasn't far off! Then the black worker suddenly blurted out,
"We sincerely apologize, and we'll offer a monetary gift." He reiterated that they meant no harm, and if I still didn't
accept it, they'd just tell me what to say and they'd do it.
At this point, I felt it was better to go along with it than to make things worse. They wanted to
settle things with a monetary gift, clearly knowing they were in the wrong. Besides, this whole incident was caused by my own desire to tease my wife, and
she was also worried about it spreading among the neighbors, so I agreed to leave it at that for now.
(However, two months later, that black worker helped me solve a problem, and now we're good friends, though
my wife doesn't know much about it.)
The matter is now closed. The price I paid was that my wife felt
insecure , and I spent a long time helping her emotionally before she gradually opened up. Sigh! Also, it caused me
to be rejected by my wife for a while when I wanted to have sex. It was terrible; she seemed to have become frigid. Fortunately, after more than three months, she slowly
regained her enjoyment of sex. However, it exhausted me for those three months of constantly trying various romantic and emotionally supportive
methods for her. Whew… the price was really high!
Looking back, was it worth it…? I dare not think about it, because the answer I come up with would make me want to
shoot myself, this pervert… You all probably know what my answer is, right?

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