The young woman who succumbed to lust (Chapter 3) (1)

Chapter Three: Husband, Pain and Pleasure

All night long, I was caught in a cycle of excitement and bitterness, jealousy and joy. This bittersweet feeling is
a common experience for every man. I was no exception.

Tonight! My wife was so alluring, so radiant. My gaze, like that of other men
, was fixed on her. Couples' social gatherings are the ultimate test of a woman's charm. The wives
had no beauty filters, no heavy makeup, and no figure-hugging clothes. They appeared completely bare-faced
, engaging in a comprehensive competition of beauty, from their faces to their figures to their private parts. And men's desires
are the most accurate measure of a woman's beauty! A raised finger is the purest form of approval, ejaculation is the most genuine form of recognition.

Throughout the gathering, my wife was undoubtedly the woman who most aroused men's desires and was most envied by other women. This
gave rise to a strange sense of vanity and pride that others might find incomprehensible!

This is a false era. The proliferation of beauty filters and plastic surgery has cheapened the word "beauty."
A square-faced country girl can transform into a goddess with a pointed chin through surgery, becoming a model for other women's cosmetic procedures and
an object of male fantasy. A plump woman with a thick waist and elephant legs can become a slender-waisted, long-legged beauty through liposuction and shapewear,
garnering countless envious compliments. Meanwhile, my naturally beautiful wife
has become "just another face in the crowd" amidst the internet's flood of filtered beauties, body-shaping beauties, and angled beauties. This makes
me, who has grown accustomed to facing envious and jealous glances after winning her heart, feel somewhat lost and resentful.

I love my wife, I'm madly infatuated with her. For her bright eyes and white teeth, for her every smile, for her
graceful figure, for her elegant dance moves, for her alluring genitals, and even more so for
the irresistible charm and sensuality she exudes during sex, during orgasm, and after satisfaction!

My goddess should be adored like a star, surrounded by admirers; she should be the object of women's
envy and jealousy. She should have countless "fans" and "sycophants"! I cannot tolerate my wife's
stunning beauty remaining hidden away, nor can I tolerate my own happiness being unknown to others. Therefore
, I entered the world of couples' dating, because here, wives are expected to show their most authentic selves; here,
women experience the baptism of love!

The wives at this gathering were all of high caliber. They were elegantly dressed, fashionable, meticulously groomed, and spoke with exceptional eloquence
. Each possessed her own unique charm, like spring orchids and autumn chrysanthemums, each with her own strengths. They were also subtly competing with each other.
Compared to the other wives with "pointed chins," "big eyes," "high noses," and "oval faces," the wife with the traditional oval face
did not conform to today's mainstream aesthetic. Her almond-shaped eyes, without canthoplasty, weren't big enough; her small, round nose wasn't prominent enough; and her cherry-like lips
, without bleaching, weren't sexy enough. While she wasn't strikingly beautiful when dressed,
after shedding her clothes and being bathed in the warmth of the rain, my wife became the most eye-catching and captivating woman.

Her beauty stemmed from her purity and authenticity. Like a lotus emerging from clear water, her fair
skin, needing no heavy makeup, shone brightly under the wash of sweat and the heat of passion, as radiant as a peach blossom and as tender as jade. It was a
unique blend of white and rosy hues.

Her breasts weren't the largest, but they were the most perky, firm, and elastic among all the wives. Her
legs weren't the longest, but they were the straightest and roundest. Her hips weren't the largest, but
they were the most perky and roundest. My wife's beauty was flawless, radiating from within. She wouldn't
become like a papaya with small breasts, grasshopper legs, or a flat bottom just because she was no longer supported by a bra or constricted by corsets. Nor would she be
unrecognizable without filters and makeup!

My wife's stunning beauty stems from her vivacity and dynamism. Her naturally beautiful
face, brimming with collagen, is so harmonious and natural when passionate! So delicate, so alluring.

Her face is so perfect, like a masterpiece of creation, not a single detail could be added or subtracted. It's a holistic
beauty, so beautiful that it doesn't need to conform to the perfect facial features of cosmetic surgery. It's beautiful enough to disregard the ideal standards of internet celebrity templates
. It's a natural and radiant combination of features. My wife possesses unique expressions and temperament based on these features
. Each expression gives rise to a unique beauty. Every smile, every
frown, every coquettish gesture, every glance is radiant, captivating, and utterly endearing. This beauty is something those
cookie-cutter internet celebrity faces, created through plastic surgery and Botox injections, can never hope to achieve!

My wife's stunning beauty also comes from her intoxicatingly beautiful body. This is a beauty that fills me with pride and joy, yet I cannot share it with
outsiders !

My wife's waist was so slender, yet her thighs were so full and high, her delicate skin piled up like snow.
Two extremes miraculously converged here. Though it was a private and dark place, it was so clean and white.
Only a few sparse, pale yellow hairs clung to her labia majora, the follicles almost invisible, as smooth as her skin
. The color was the same white as her thighs. Where others' skin was dark red or brown, on her it
was only a tender pink. She looked just like a young girl who hadn't yet developed. This soft, round, bun-shaped vulva, even if it
covered her stunning face, just the swaying of her slender waist, the gentle parting of her vulva, like a peony in bloom, was enough to drive men wild
.

Tonight, my wife was the most beautiful! Her face, her figure, her vulva—she was the most beautiful!
She outshone everyone else! Tonight, my wife was the most charming; she conquered all the men, making them
her devoted followers, my sugar daddies! I was smug.

But soon, I realized I was wrong. I thought I had broken through tradition, broken through moral constraints, and
accepted the ideology of sexuality. I thought I could calmly face all the shocks brought about by the exchange. But I was wrong.
I underestimated the influence of thousands of years of traditional culture and ethics, underestimated
the primal instinct of male animal reproductive competition rooted deep in DNA, and overestimated my own psychological resilience. When I saw my
faithful wife incoherently responding to the man's thrusts, completely conquered by another male, I didn't
feel the happiness and composure I had imagined.

My name is Jay, I'm thirty-six years old, and I'm the vice president of a private company.

For a long time, I felt like a winner in life. I had a successful career, and my annual income...
A beautiful wife, intelligent and healthy children, wealth far exceeding that of his peers, and
the "impressive endowment" that's crucial for a man—the ability to dominate in the bathroom—along with his confident stamina with women!

But tonight, my heart is filled with feelings of defeat and powerlessness, because someone younger,
stronger, and faster than me has regained his virility! Because my wife is so passionate, so vulnerable, so easily
broken, in his presence!

His name is Qiang, 25 years old, a senior in college about to graduate, a
man considered a "single" in the world of dating! At this moment, he is on top of his wife, his hand near her ear, his still-erect penis
immersed in her wet vagina. He moves his lower body slowly and deliberately.

His movements are large, each time pulling his penis to the vaginal opening before thrusting it in all the way, his pubic
bone slapping against his wife's engorged labia majora with a crisp slapping sound. Like a knight who has just tamed a
wild horse he triumphantly cracks his whip, leisurely savoring the thrill of conquest. His wife's fair and delicate body
is his trophy.

Her eyes are slightly closed, her beautiful face flushed a terrifying red, as if she were drunk. Her breathing
is ragged and heavy, tiny beads of sweat glistening on her forehead, as if she had been ridden a long way. Her long, black
hair cascades down her chest like a horse's mane, making her breasts appear even more white and rosy. Her breasts are unusually perky,
swollen so much that the blue veins beneath the skin are visible. Her breasts tremble with each thrust,
spreading a vibrant crimson across her snow-white skin.

The man's movements quicken, and his wife's breathing becomes increasingly rapid. Her lips are tightly pursed, her hands
grip the sheets beneath her, her head is thrown back, and her breasts are raised high, making the two cherry-red nipples
stand even more erect. One of her sexy stockings was gone, the other still on her leg. Her two long, beautiful
legs were stretched straight, wide apart, her toes pointed like a ballerina's, her toes curled. Her body
was arched slightly , and looking at her, it seemed as if his penis had a suction force, lifting her
buttocks off the bed with each withdrawal!

My wife began to moan, at first just a soft sound or two, gradually becoming a series of uncontrollable moans.
I knew she was about to succumb. This position was the one she was most comfortable in and most easily aroused by.
Looking at my wife's alluring and sexy expression, listening to her seductive moans, I didn't feel the usual happiness
; instead, I felt a strange bitterness. I stared, mesmerized, at my wife, at that man
, at the place where they were joined! He was so hard, so persistent, so persistent that it made me jealous. Youth is
truly enviable.

After one powerful thrust, my wife finally collapsed! Her body stiffened abruptly, a scream like a
sob bursting from her throat. Her hands gripped the sheets on either side of her buttocks, her legs kicked against the bed, and she arched her back,
trying to lift her hips off the surface. He quickened his pace, his hands on the bed, his upper body arching, his lower body suspended in the air.
Like a pile driver, he thrust in and out rapidly, as if slapping his wife's lower body. His wife whimpered loudly, her body stiff
, her buttocks trembling in mid-air, enduring his violent thrusts for several seconds before collapsing back down.
Her lower abdomen and limbs began to spasm rhythmically, she gasped for breath, as if choking on water, convulsing incessantly! He did
n't slow his movements, continuing to thrust violently. Soon, his wife began to spasm again, once, twice,
three times, the spasms becoming shorter and weaker, until finally she clutched his buttocks, and
only then did he stop.

It was finally over. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. His continuous and intense output had given my wife a strong
stimulation, but it had also put immense pressure on me.
Few men could maintain such a high-speed, large-amplitude thrusting motion while their wives were experiencing intense orgasms. I could only be so unrestrained during my second orgasm.
He had done this several times already, which made me feel a mix of envy and jealousy. A sour feeling welled up inside me.

But he didn't intend to stop. He straightened up, knelt between my wife's legs, and reached out to grasp her hips.
My wife cooperated, spreading her legs into a split, then bending them.
She pointed her toes, lifting her buttocks off the bed. He held her hips, pulling her body closer,
presenting her genitals to his weapon. Her genitals were wet and slightly swollen, but still tightly closed.

He lifted his wife's buttocks, raising and lowering them, his erect penis angled as he re-inserted into her
swollen vagina. His wife's head tilted back, letting out a long sigh.

As if to show off her arched shape, or perhaps deliberately for my benefit, he intentionally thrust upwards
, stimulating the most sensitive area of her vaginal walls. His wife's body arched even more violently, her head
tilted back against the bed, her shoulders off the surface, forming an archway that
revealed the most alluring part of her body between her legs. It was displayed before my eyes.

I stared intently at my wife's magnificent vulva, watching his dark penis
grind wantonly in her tender pink orifice, listening to her increasingly intense and rapid moans, yet the initial smugness was gone. Reason told
me that my wife's pleasure was my goal, but my competitive nature made me both sour and jealous.

He stopped, straightened up, and patted his wife's hips. My wife, panting, obediently cooperated with his movements
, turning around and kneeling on the bed, her buttocks raised like a tamed stallion, meekly lowering her proud
neck. She let the man enter her from behind, continuing to lash
her with his whip.

The man began to accelerate, accelerating violently. My shared male intuition told me he was making his final thrust.
My heart pounded, an inexplicable desire welling up within me. I silently prayed that my wife wouldn't reach
orgasm too soon and release herself into his arms. Instead, I wanted to satisfy her after he ejaculated!

My wife began to moan again, her moans varying with his thrusts. I stared at her face; her lips
were tightly pressed together. I knew she was trying to control her reactions. My wife was keeping her chastity for me,
and a sense of relief welled up inside me. I ridiculously bury my head in the sand, trying to soothe my aching heart. We looked at each other,
needing no words to communicate, yet conveying our love. My wife assured me with clenched teeth, a tight fist, and bulging
veins on her neck; I responded with my own throbbing, throbbing erection. We were like lovers in the throes of passion.
Lover, we made a love pact!

The man's hand grabbed his wife's arm from behind! He pulled her elbow to straighten her up, then
hooked her shoulder and arm through her armpit. He held his wife's shoulder and arm and began a new round of fierce
thrusting.

His wife's body leaned forward, her arms twisted behind her back like a prisoner. Her body staggered under his thrusts
and was pulled back by him. Like a sapling blown by a gale, his wife's head sometimes drooped and sometimes tilted back, her
long black hair swaying with her head, her fair body flushing a charming rosy red with his acceleration, glistening with fragrant
sweat, like a galloping steed.

My heart clenched suddenly; this was a high-difficulty, high-stimulation position, and also the position his wife feared the most. From behind (1)

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