Real Records of Marital Incest

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

I'm not good at expressing my feelings, and I feel embarrassed about intimacy between husband and wife. So, when
there are other people around, I always formally and strictly refuse any affectionate gestures from her, which makes my wife think I don't love
her.

I always feel that love should be felt in the heart. The "love" we say every day might not be true love. Don't
those smooth-talking playboys often use that word? But how many of them are sincere?

But my wife clearly doesn't see it that way.

When we were dating, perhaps because I wasn't attentive enough to her, she
wavered between me and another man, and even fell into his arms.

I've met this man; he's my wife's colleague, in the same office. He's from Guangdong, thin, not
very tall, wears small glasses, and has a rather large mouth. To be honest, he's not very good-looking.

I've also heard indirectly that he's several years older than me. Perhaps he has some money, and being a local, he's quite
good at charming girls. I heard he's already having affairs with several naive young women in my wife's company.

My wife often complains that I don't care about her, always bringing up how that man used egg whites and honey to treat her
skin condition on her neck. Back then, I was quite confident and didn't care much, firstly because we had already slept together (
looking I was actually quite naive), and secondly because I didn't believe she would be so foolish as to fall for such a trick.

But ultimately, my wife couldn't resist the temptation of sweet talk, and while I was away on an untimely
two-month , she slept with that man.

Those days were nothing short of dark; anyone who has experienced heartbreak or a lover's infidelity
can understand.

Just a few incidents will illustrate my feelings at the time.

I needed two sleeping pills every night to fall asleep.

Sometimes at work, I couldn't help but run to the bathroom to cry. Once, I cried so hard on the roof that I almost
fell .

I went to that man's dormitory with a kitchen knife and chopped a hole in the thin metal door. I waited for

her outside her dormitory all night, even in the rain, without an umbrella.

Although I was heartbroken, I didn't give up and do nothing. I tried to outdo that man with patience,
care, and love, even though these weren't my strong suits.

I wrote a diary, intending to give it to my wife when I finished it. Unfortunately, after discovering that my wife had gone to that
man again, I took back everything I had given her—shoes, clothes, and even the diary—and
threw it in the trash in front of her. Among the entries was a poignant poem: "

Today a woman came

, a warm-hearted, kind aunt. She

knew my situation

and gently comforted me.

I tried to appear indifferent , hoping she wouldn't be too sad or regretful

if she saw it . I liked hearing her say, ' You're a good girl,' but perhaps she doesn't know that I'm not a good boy. I 'm not romantic , not gentle enough , and can't share a lover's sorrows. No woman would be happy with me , and you certainly wouldn't be either, even though in my heart I still think of you so passionately ." My wife's close friends almost unanimously sided with me, speaking frankly and logically, acting as my advocates. But my wife always wavered between me and that man, secretly maintaining relationships with both of them simultaneously. I forgave her again and again, and she betrayed me again and again for this man, but in the end, we still ended up together. To be honest, when I finally agreed to forgive her, I was determined to destroy her and take revenge. Things turned out differently than I expected. Her kindness to me and the arrival of our son, thanks to her stubborn insistence, not only prevented me from abandoning her, but I even urged her to get a marriage . After that, we never mentioned her past, afraid of hurting each other. To us, it was as if nothing had ever happened . Our sex life became mundane, but we never stopped having sex. Except for three brief separations, we had sex almost every day when we were together. There were times (and still are now) when I only browsed cuckoldry articles online, fantasizing about my wife being fucked to death by other men, especially those with particularly thick and long penises, veins bulging, shiny black , thrusting in and out of my wife's wet, juicy vagina, scraping the tender flesh inside, which really made me lustful and hard as iron. I remember it was me who initiated bringing up that person again; it was during a routine sexual encounter. I thrust my entire penis into my wife's vagina, trembling with excitement at the question I was about to ask. My wife sensed my emotions and arched her body in eager response. "Is it good?" I asked her breathlessly, thrusting rapidly and violently. I didn't want to ask her this question while she was fully conscious , to avoid embarrassment and to prevent her from getting angry. "It's...it's so good...ah...oh...fuck me to death!" My wife was a little incoherent, her expression somewhat dazed. "It's good...right?...Is it better than him?" I clearly heard a gurgling sound I struggled to utter the question, while my thrusting speed noticeably increased. "It's better than him...ah..." My wife answered excitedly, without any hesitation or shame, so straightforward that it made my heart ache, and I could feel the tightening and trembling of her vaginal walls. "Have you compared me to that other guy of yours countless times?... I'll fuck you to death, you slut..." I excitedly thrust into her twice with a vengeful heart. Damn it, I hadn't even mentioned who he was, and she was already thinking of him. Her pussy was reacting so strongly; she probably thought it was someone else's dick inside her. My wife didn't notice my change and moaned lasciviously, "So good... Husband, you're the best now ... Fuck me to death... Mmm... Fuck me faster..." "Whose dick is bigger?" "Yours..." "Who fucks you better?" "Yours better..." "Doesn't he fuck you better?" I put my wife's legs on my shoulders and thrust my dick in three times in succession, fully penetrating her overflowing vagina. I thrust back and forth, instantly splashing water everywhere and making a series of lewd noises.

My wife struggled to open her mouth, saying intermittently, "Not good... ah... good... good... I'm dying
...

"Does he fuck you this good too?" I pulled my penis out of her warm vagina again, then
thrust it back in like a pile driver on a construction site.

My wife let out a comfortable "oh," moaning, "He doesn't fuck me good, not good at all... Husband,
you fuck me good... Husband... I can't live without you... ah..." She tried to lift her head and reach out her arms
to hug me, but I didn't let go of her legs. Finally, she cried out helplessly, "Oh oh," her hands
squeezing her two plump white breasts tightly together from both sides.

"He wasn't satisfied with his fucking, yet you let him fuck you so many times? Ah, you slut, are you that horny?"

"I'm bewitched... Husband... I'll never let another man fuck me again... I'll only ever want
you ... Ah... Husband... My slutty cunt... Ah... is exclusively yours... So good..."

"Your cunt has been fucked to pieces by other dicks, and you still say it's exclusively mine?" I frantically
sat up and down, my ass pounding with a perverse pleasure, each smooth penetration so pleasurable, so exhilarating.

"So your husband... can only have his rotten cunt exclusively? Hmm... Fuck... Fuck you to death, you rotten cunt." I
was breathing heavily.

"..." My wife's legs were pressed against her chest, her buttocks raised high, her body in a U-shape. Under
my rapid thrusts, she was already breathless: "Oh...my...cunt...is...being...

fucked...to pieces...fucked...to pieces...ah...fucked to death..."

I was running out of steam, my mind blank as if I were lacking oxygen. I hadn't done much exercise in the past two years, and
my body was much weaker than before. It had been at least forty-five minutes since I entered her, and this intense piston-like motion was
exhausting.

I spread her legs, then covered her warm, soft flesh with my entire body. Just like before
when I was tired during sex, my wife hugged me tightly. She pressed her back against me, her legs drawn together. With her perfect coordination,
the thrusting of her hips never faltered, though each penetration wasn't as thorough or fierce as before.

I like to use this traditional missionary

position . Aside from the hip movements, my whole body remains relaxed and at ease. Although
my wife might suspect me of being lazy or just going through the motions, she also really enjoys this method.

My wife slowly recovered from the earlier frenzy and began to feel sorry for me: "Honey...take
a ...take a break before we go again..." She writhed around me like a snake aroused by lust.

I was indeed a little tired and lay still on top of her. My wife immediately wrapped her legs around my
buttocks , her arms tightly wrapped around me, as if afraid my penis would leave her vagina. Her lower body pulsated, sometimes tight, sometimes
loose, biting and chewing my shaft.

I rubbed my cheek against her earlobe: "Have you two fucked a hundred times?" I was surprised
at how . I remembered the first time I found out she'd spent the night at that guy's place, I'd gone there with a
kitchen knife in my pocket. But now, aside from my voice being a little distorted with excitement, I didn't hold any resentment
towards .

"Mmm, you're so annoying..." My wife slapped my butt and started wriggling.

"Have you?" My butt started moving.

"No..." My wife hugged me tighter.

"Then how many times?"

"..." My wife seemed to hesitate.

"Honey, just tell me, I won't be angry." I said, increasing the speed of my thrusts.

"Four...five times...ah..." Under the pressure of my penis, my wife got into the mood again.

"Definitely more than five times, you better tell me the truth! You slut, I'll fuck you to death!" Hearing her say it herself,
I was both excited and a little angry, thrusting into her hard.

"Really...it wasn't more than five times...ah...so good...hurry up and fuck me...husband..."

"I don't believe you." I stopped moving: "If you don't tell the truth, I'm not doing it anymore."

"Really, husband, just five times...please, fuck me quickly, fuck me...husband...I can't take it anymore
." My wife gritted her teeth and endured, her whole body burning hot.

"Was it your own choice, or did he force you?" Of course I knew she had entered his house and slept with
him , but I still hoped to hear her say something else.

"..."

"You did it your own choice...right?"

"..."

"Right?" I pulled my penis away from her vaginal opening and stopped.

"Yes..." She quickly grabbed my buttocks with both hands.

Before she finished speaking, I suddenly thrust in: "You stinking bitch, you actually spread your cunt and let someone fuck you!
I'm going to fuck you to death today...fuck, I'm going to fuck your stinking cunt raw...do you still dare to let some random man fuck you? Huh?"
I thrust wildly.

"I won't do it again, husband... I'll never dare... let some other man fuck me again... You almost
fucked me to death by yourself... It felt so good... Ahh... My pussy is all ripped apart." My wife arched her back, her head
moving constantly.

I couldn't hold back any longer; an intense pleasure surged uncontrollably into my brain. I
held her moving head firmly in my hands, slamming my hips against her with all my might.

One thrust, two thrusts, three thrusts, and finally, I thrust deep inside her: "I'm going to cum... cum... Ouch... Ouch..." I
trembled, my mind went blank again, I lost consciousness. One thrust, two thrusts, three thrusts, with each powerful
thud of my penis, streams of semen erupted like a volcano, sizzling against the walls of her vagina.

My wife's mouth was open but she couldn't make a sound, only swallowing constantly, her throat making gurgling
noises.

The intense orgasm lasted for nearly a minute before I collapsed weakly onto my wife, panting. My wife clung to me like
an octopus , moaning "Husband, husband" while
frantically licking my face.

Each time the game ended, I wanted to lie down and rest, but my wife never wanted to let me go so quickly. She
would me pull out of her vagina immediately, forcing me to climb on top of her and hold her, and insisting on talking to her for a while before she was
done.

After her orgasm subsided, I lifted my hips and pulled my penis out of her wet, slippery hole. My wife...
Willingly releasing my grip, I was finally able to roll over and lie flat on the bed. My wet penis, surprisingly, hadn't softened; it
remained erect.

This was unusual. It happened after ejaculation when I was particularly energetic, but today was clearly
an exception.

My wife seemed quite exhausted as well. Unlike usual, she didn't get up to wipe the mess from her genitals. She lay there languidly, her
high breasts rising and falling with her increasingly even breathing, her face flushed like a peach blossom.

A few unintentional glances exchanged, the uninhibited and careless words exchanged during lovemaking making us both feel somewhat
embarrassed and awkward. My wife didn't pester me to talk as usual, turning over and lying with her back to me.

Without the direct pressure of face-to-face contact, we were both immersed in the afterglow of our intense passion.
In the past I didn't want to bring up this topic, not entirely because I was magnanimous, but because as the one who had been hurt, I
could draw a sense of guilt from the depths of my wife's heart. If I didn't bring it up, my wife would certainly be even less likely to reveal her shortcomings
. I broke this taboo today, and unexpectedly, it didn't create any psychological
barriers . Instead, it rekindled the passion in our otherwise bland sex life.

We hadn't made love and enjoyed ourselves so passionately in so long.

Looking at my wife's curvaceous, smooth waist as she lay on her side, my heart was filled with love. I rolled over and
embraced her. My wife raised her head, and my left arm reached under her neck to grasp one of her large breasts.

What had to be faced had to be faced eventually. I turned my wife's face towards me and asked, "Is it comfortable?"

My wife closed her eyes shyly and replied, "Comfortable..."

I kissed her lips. She struggled a few times but then accepted, and even more passionately sucked on my
saliva and tongue.

After finally managing to break free, my wife's alluring eyes, filled with tenderness, blinked as she gazed at me. "Honey,
I feel so good. How about you?"

"Me too." I gently stroked her as I said, "...Tell me how he did it, okay?"

"What's there to say..." My wife shyly buried her head in my chest. "It's all the same, what's there to talk about
?"

"Tell me, it's okay." I encouraged her. "It's been so long, I've long since let it go." "

Really? You don't hate me at all anymore?" My wife asked, tilting her head up.

"Really, I've come to terms with it. Just think of it as my bicycle being stolen, ridden around, and then found again!" I
said with a laugh, teasingly.

"You're the broken bicycle..." My wife playfully punched my waist and retorted.

The atmosphere became lively, and we slowly began to talk about her and that man.

I asked her if he enjoyed it? How did he do it? Who was on top? Had she ever sucked his cock? Once
she let loose, she had no more reservations and answered whatever I asked. We never mentioned the man's
name , but we both understood.

She said his penis was very big and long, like a donkey's. He always went in very deep, never
fully inside, and it never felt as good as with me because it hurt her a little. There was only one position:
he was on top. He lasted a long time, sometimes all night. She had touched his penis but never sucked on it. He
only ejaculated inside her vagina, unlike me, who ejaculated everywhere.

We were both very excited during the conversation. I had my wife turn over so I could penetrate her again.

I asked her again whether his big penis or my small penis was better. She said the big one had its advantages, for example,
she liked me to hold her after an orgasm and penetrate her from behind. Because mine was shorter,
it wasn't very hard afterward, and it would slip out after a little movement. His wouldn't; it would stay in all night
and wouldn't go soft.

She said they had only really done it five or six times in total, not the hundreds I had imagined.

Listening to my wife describe her lover's impressive size, imagining his thick, black penis
thrusting in and out of her willingly open vagina without restraint, jealousy and lust alternated, burning my penis until it was hard and swollen . I frantically
thrust into her vagina, releasing my pent-up desire.

Finally, under my frenzied manipulation, my wife reached her third orgasm, and I also ejaculated, utterly exhausted.

Afterwards, my wife said tenderly, "I still like yours. It's just the right size for me,
and it made me feel so good!"

I began to believe her words.

About two weeks later, during a conversation during a woman-on-top sexual encounter, I began to doubt her.

At that time, she straddled my lap, holding my neck, her buttocks rising and falling, swallowing and releasing deeply.
When she fell, she gripped my penis tightly and would rub back and forth a couple of times. She exhaled and said, "It's too deep, my pussy
is numb, it feels so good!"

I squeezed her two full breasts hard and asked her, "Is it better if it's deep or shallow?"

She said, "Deep is better."

I asked her, "Is it deeper or deeper?"

My wife truthfully answered that it was deeper. I slapped her buttocks, full of jealousy: "Then why did you say he did
n't enjoy it? You stinky woman, are you trying to embarrass your husband?"

My wife, as if her secret had been exposed, shyly pressed her two mounds of flesh against my face and rubbed them hard: "He went in too deep,
all I know is pain, how can I enjoy it?"

I grabbed her buttocks with both hands and pressed her hard against my penis: "Didn't you tell him not to go in
too deep?"

"He likes it, what can I do?" My wife swayed her full buttocks, the area where her lower body was joined was a muddy mess.

"You little slut, risking your life for your lover?! I think you're just being shameless, begging to be fucked! Aren't you?" I lifted my buttocks
and thrust hard into her.

Caught off guard, my wife was lifted up, and with a "pop," the penis slipped out of her vagina. As it fell, it didn't
align with the opening and slid back in, ending up behind her buttocks.

My wife cried out, reaching down to grab the slippery penis, aiming it at her opening,

and with a "plop," she sat back in. "Trying to run away... I haven't had enough..."

"Not enough? Then go find your big-dicked lover! You're such a slut..." I
thrust into , cursing her with a hint of jealousy and a hidden anticipation.

"I want yours, yours is perfect for me." My wife ignored me, moving wildly, grinding against my genitals until
they

ached. I stopped talking, squeezing her buttocks with both hands, pulling and pushing forcefully.

Once the taboo was broken, we often mentioned this man during sex, each time bringing us
excitement , hardness, and spraying of vaginal fluid.

I asked her if she still wanted to try the feeling of a big cock, and she said she kind of wanted to. I said, "Then go find
him and let him fuck you again." She said, "No, I won't do it with that man again." I said, "
It's okay , you've done it so many times already, one more or one less won't make a big difference." She still
firmly disagreed. I also promised that I wouldn't despise her and would love her even more, but she still didn't agree.

I don't know if she really agreed, would I really do what I promised, run her a
bath, spray her with perfume, comb her pubic hair, help her put on sexy lingerie and elegant business attire,
and then see her out the door?

Men who have never been cuckolded may never understand this feeling, that
feeling burning you so much you can't breathe, your heart aches and you go crazy, yet your desire is burning.

Really, no matter the situation, such as when we're arguing, being intimate, or talking about sex, as soon as my wife
mentions that man's big cock, I get an erection instantly, burning with desire. My wife was initially surprised.
She used this to stimulate me when she needed it but I wasn't sexually aroused, and it always worked. Each time, I'd leave her weak
and begging for mercy .

However, she firmly opposed any further contact with that man. While slightly disappointed, I was also relieved.

If she had agreed, and they got back together, who could guarantee they wouldn't rekindle their old flame and become attracted to each other
again?

Besides, that man wasn't married yet; I think no woman would ignore that, regardless of
her own reasons.

My wife was more rational than me; she didn't take the risk because of greed. Our son is so adorable, our family is so
wonderful —why would we want to destroy it?

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