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Couple Detective Agency (Adulterous Wife) 

    page views:1  Publication date:2023-06-11 15:12:09  
Husband and Wife Detective Agency
I am a detective, or more accurately, a private detective. I am 35 years old. Due to the nature of my work, I will not reveal my real name; you can call me Li Di for now.
I run a company called Leishi Technology Co., Ltd. Why such a name? Leishi just sounds powerful to me. As for "Limited Company," well, you know, these days almost every company is called a Limited Company. To make money, many of my business practices are illegal, even shady. Therefore, to ensure everything goes smoothly, my company only has two people: I am the general manager, detective, and technician; my wife is the receptionist, assistant, and accountant. In short, I run errands, and she collects the money…

(I)

I am a detective, or more accurately, a private detective. I am 35 years old. Due to the nature of my work, I will not reveal my real name; you can call me Li Di for now.

I run a company called Leishi Technology Co., Ltd. Why such a name? Leishi just sounds powerful to me. As for "Limited Company," well, you know, these days almost every company is called a Limited Company.

To make money, many of my business practices are illegal, even shady. Therefore, to ensure everything goes smoothly, my company only has two people: I'm the general manager, detective, and technician; my wife is the receptionist, assistant, and accountant. In short, I run the errands, and she collects the money.

Anyone who has worked with private investigators knows that this line of work is difficult these days. Not only does the government disapprove of the industry, but the competition is so fierce that sometimes it reaches the point of resorting to any means necessary. Since the industry itself is illegal, who cares about doing a few more illegal things?

I entered this line of work out of necessity. Four years ago, I was a police officer, specifically a tech-savvy officer from a well-off family. Everything changed four years ago with a disastrous investment. First, my in-laws, both university professors, were swindled in a tech investment, accumulating millions in debt. Then, my parents, who worked in venture capital, wanted to help their in-laws and also wanted to make a fortune for a glorious retirement. They lost everything in a high-stakes gamble, not only losing over 20 million yuan of their own money but also nearly 30 million yuan borrowed from friends and loan sharks. As a result, I, the former rich kid, not only became impoverished overnight but also had to quit my job with Qini, who taught English at a university. We used our technical skills and resources to start what is currently our fastest way to make money.

For four years, we worked day and night, finally paying off all the loan sharks. I know you're not interested in all that, so let me introduce my assistant, my wife Qini. Interested?

Qini is three years younger than me and 1.62 meters tall. By my standards, Qini isn't the kind of beauty that immediately captivates. In a metropolis teeming with beauties, she'd probably only be considered average in terms of looks. But if you let her be alone, she'd always be surrounded by admirers. Actually, when she was single, she wasn't particularly outstanding. Her charm came after marriage, especially after having children. Her perfectly proportioned fullness, neither too plump nor too thin, combined with her elegant and serene temperament, exuded the unique mature allure of a young married woman.

Of course, what's most irresistible is her gaze—a subtle, dreamy quality that easily ignites any man's desire to conquer.

Once, while dining out after her marriage, I joked that she could charm anyone, from 17 to 70—she was a killer for all men.

She giggled and playfully punched me, the undulating waves of her breasts allowing me to hear the labored, clear gurgling sound coming from the bespectacled man across the table with his girlfriend.

I whispered a few words to my wife, who covered her mouth and chuckled. A moment later, just as the bespectacled man picked up his drink, my wife suddenly pulled down her collar. "Pfft—!" The bespectacled man sprayed a mouthful of orange juice onto his girlfriend's face. My wife and I grabbed our bags, laughing, and ran out of the restaurant.

That afternoon at 5 PM, in my studio, I was idly playing an online game called "Conquer the Land." Actually, the so-called studio was just the living room of our rented two-bedroom apartment.

"Honey, we're going to be in the red again this month," I suddenly heard my wife's voice.

"Really?" My attention was still on the computer.

“Our monthly expenses—rent, gas, supplies, baby, and household chores—reach 180,000 yuan. The market's been sluggish this year; we haven't received many orders in the last three months. In May, we had four orders, barely making 30,000 yuan; in June, we made 270,000 yuan, but you spent 350,000 yuan on equipment, leaving us with a negative 80,000 yuan. So far this month, we've only earned 70,000 yuan. If we don't get any big orders, we'll be starving.” Qini pushed up her black-rimmed anti-radiation glasses.

I realized the difficulties we were facing, put down the mouse, and frowned. “Is it that serious?”

My wife nodded heavily. “And we have a 2 million yuan payment due next month.”

“How much do we have in our accounts right now?”

“800,000 yuan.”

“So little?” I was surprised. These past few years of smooth sailing had made me almost oblivious to money; I hadn't expected things to get this bad after just a few months of slightly slower business.

“Is there any possibility of financing?” The situation was more serious than I had imagined.

“We still need to pay back that 2 million next month.”

“1.2 million.” I rubbed my temples in pain. “How about we temporarily pawn the car?”

“I asked, and the pawn company only agrees to pawn it for 600,000.”

“What?! That’s a Cayenne! Why don’t they just rob us!” I exclaimed.

My wife glanced at me but didn’t reply. Of course, I knew that this was the easiest time for the pawn company to make money, and switching companies would have yielded the same result.

“Do we have any other orders?”

“We have about 7 or 8, but either they’re too small or the prices aren’t right.”

“What about online orders?”

“A few, but…” My wife hesitated.

“Bring them over so I can take a look.”

The so-called “online orders” refer to orders placed online by clients who are unable to appear in person. These orders usually have high prices, but often mean risks and illegality. This is why we’ve never joined any so-called detective alliance network and only take jobs directly. These jobs often come from word of mouth, and of course, some people find us by chance.

There weren't many orders online, and compared to before, the bids weren't high. Two bids were quite high, but after looking at the details, I could only shake my head. A high bid doesn't guarantee you'll have the money.

"What do you think of this one?" I asked my wife after thinking for a long time.

Qini walked over to me and naturally sat on my lap. "You mean this order?"

She leaned over to try and see the details on the computer screen more clearly. My eyes naturally fell on it. Qini's figure was more like a Westerner's: large breasts, small waist, and large hips. Today she was wearing a light blue skirt and a white pleated blouse. Sitting on my lap, as she leaned forward, the blouse pulled up, revealing a glimpse of her fair skin and showcasing her two beautifully symmetrical waistlines. Further down, the perfect peach-shaped curve created by her naturally taut buttocks immediately aroused me.

I pretended to lean closer to look, but instead found myself holding her soft, warm belly beneath the slightly upturned hem of her blouse. My right hand moved upwards from under her blouse towards her chest, but the blouse blocked my view below her bra. I tried to apply a little pressure, but the taut blouse seemed to be about to tear. I had to give up and reached out to unbutton Qini's blouse. When I unbuttoned the third button, the collar of the blouse seemed to burst open as if it had been restrained for too long, and the whole garment suddenly became much looser. I slipped my hand inside her blouse. We'd been married for almost eight years and had a child, but those two large, white breasts still showed no sign of sagging, heavy in my hand, swaying gently with every shake.

"No!" When my fingers slipped under the edge of her bra, pinching her pink nipple between my fingers, Qini pulled my hand away and quickly ran off me, all the way into the bathroom.

"Wife!" I quickly ran to the bathroom door.

"Give me some time." Qini's words sounded unusually weak, as if she had exhausted all her strength to utter these words. Then came soft sobs.

I leaned wearily against the bathroom door, a woman's shrill, helpless cry echoing in my mind. I slumped weakly to the floor by the bathroom door.

It was a failure three years ago, not long after we started out. Although the police arrived quickly, Qini was still penetrated by three men. Since then, Qini has developed a psychological aversion to sex. Three years have passed, and we haven't been intimate more than once. We've tried many methods and even seen a psychologist, but Qini has never been able to escape the shadow of that violent gang rape.

The sky gradually darkened, and I sat blankly in front of the computer, without turning on the light. Qini came over once, wanting to say something, but ultimately said nothing and went into the bedroom. With the "clack" of the bedroom door closing, the studio fell silent. Sometime later, I put on my headphones, and Pink's "Fucking Perfect" was playing in my ears.

Pretty, pretty please don't you ever, ever feel like you're less than fucking

perfect. Pretty, pretty please if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing. You're fucking perfect to me…

As the song played, tears silently streamed down my face.

The night had grown deep, and "fucking perfect" played on repeat in my ears. The scene of the woman screaming in my mind grew clearer in the darkness. The woman's blurry face gradually merged with Qini's. Yes, that was Qini, the Qini crying "Save me!" under a strange man. And at that moment, bound tightly, I could only watch this scene in despair.

The scene from years ago seemed especially clear on this quiet night. As the music replayed in my mind again and again, I suddenly realized that tonight, when this scene reappeared in my mind, I felt less pain and more of an indescribable strangeness.

I opened my eyes and navigated through the layers of passwords in the safe, clicking through one file after another until I found a folder hidden in the deepest corner. I entered a long password of over ten yuan, and the folder opened. Inside, a video file was stored all alone. I hovered the mouse over it, clicked, but hesitated, unable to open it. I took a deep breath, moved the mouse away, and stared blankly at the video file for a long time. I clicked again, then moved it away again, as if it were Pandora's box unleashing all my evil.

After hesitating for nearly ten minutes, I finally opened the video file.

"Ah, husband, save me, save me, no..." The person crying out in the video was Qini. It was a video taken by the thugs with their cell phones, which I copied using technical means after we were rescued. In the scene, Qini's pale, fleshy body struggled in vain. A man with his pants down to his ankles laughed maniacally, his buttocks thrusting between Qini's legs. Beside him, a group of men, leering and eager, were unzipping their pants. Two men had already impatiently released their swollen penises and were masturbating.

Amid Qini's cries and the men's maniacal laughter and thrusting, the bitterness in my heart gradually disappeared, replaced by a strange, forbidden, and stimulating pleasure. My breathing became heavy. Years of near-abstinence had given me an urge to release, and this urge made me unconsciously unzip my pants and grasp my own penis.

My tears fell again, but my hand did not stop. I was truly sick, so sick that I was masturbating while watching Qini being violated.

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