My wife's quirks (repost)

This happened two years ago, and I never imagined it would happen to me. My wife studied finance; her education level isn't high, maybe a junior college diploma. She's petite with great skin.

I met her through an introduction. I was 33 and she was 30. She was still unmarried at that age because she had high standards. She had a boyfriend in college, but they broke up two years after graduation, apparently because he didn't earn much money. She never told me any details.

My wife is rather introverted and blushes easily. Her clothing isn't particularly trendy; before marriage, she loved wearing jeans, but she doesn't wear them much anymore. She's gained some weight after marriage, but she's not overweight. Even though she dresses casually, she exudes a natural sexiness that's not feigned but innate. Although she's petite, her voice is deep. Overall, she reminds me of a mature Tao Huimin.

Later, I learned from other sources that someone had gotten into a fight at school because of someone pursuing her. This person was her high school classmate, who even attended our wedding, but apparently looked very upset and left before the wedding ended.

This high school classmate who pursued her had been involved in a knife fight in high school, but because of his family's connections, nothing serious happened. Later, his family funded a company for him in Beijing, which did quite well, making him somewhat wealthy.

I once asked my wife why she didn't agree to marry that classmate who pursued her later became rich. She said, "I have to be able to find him worthy of me!" Although my wife felt she couldn't marry a poor guy, she also didn't want to marry a rich man without education. Fortunately, my family was in Beijing, and I had a master's degree. Besides, she was turning thirty at the time and was getting anxious, so she married me. Before we planned to get married, she told me that marrying her was a blessing I had accumulated over eight lifetimes. I laughed and told her it was a blessing I had accumulated over eighty lifetimes.

At that time, her company received venture capital, so business became busy, and she had to travel more for financial reasons. Then, by chance, I discovered that she had taken condoms from home during her business trip. The shock I felt was indescribable, because the purpose of taking them was obvious: either she knew she was going to have sex with another man, or she was mentally prepared for the possibility of having sex with another man.

I didn't know whether to call her immediately or wait until she got home to ask. In the end, I decided to wait. Those two days of her business trip were two sleepless nights for me. I called her every day, but didn't mention the condoms. Her tone was completely normal, and I tried to remain normal on the phone, but the feelings inside were indescribable.

The day she returned, I drove to the airport to pick her up. The forty-minute drive home felt like a long journey to me. When we got home, she was unpacking in our bedroom. I asked her why she had taken condoms on her business trip. Her expression immediately changed, but she started saying the condoms were in the bedside table and asked why I was asking her that.

I said I was asking about her spare box—the one at the very back of the third drawer of her vanity. I knew she'd taken a box with her on her business trip. Her next reaction was anger, asking why I'd been checking her drawer and going through her things without permission. In reality, I had the right to look at her drawer, and I'd only discovered it by accident.

At this point, I also acted quite angry, and she finally admitted that she had indeed taken condoms on her business trip. That moment shattered my emotions like a tidal wave, followed by nearly twenty minutes of staring at each other.

Since we got married, I'd never lost my temper or said anything harsh to her, and we'd been married for almost three years.

I asked her why. She said I wasn't attractive to her anymore, and that our sex life was too boring. She said he was her colleague, and also married. Initially, they were just friends, but then everything happened.

I started insisting she tell me who that colleague was, even begging her to tell me. She finally told me it was her boss, Wang—and that I'd even met him. Hearing it was him made me feel nauseous; I felt like I was going to vomit. Her boss was indeed very charming, over 1.8 meters tall, very large, and a very mature man. He was the one who negotiated the ten million dollar venture capital for their company. I remember meeting him; he was very polite to me, but this was the man who took my wife's body!

That night, I slept in the living room, barely able to sleep. The next morning, I didn't even look my wife in the eye, and she went to work as usual, but I couldn't feel at peace because I knew she would see him again.

That evening, my wife called to say she would be home late because of work. When she returned, she seemed happy and appeared to sympathize with my feelings. I asked her how she got home so late. She said Wang drove her home, looking into my eyes as she spoke. I felt nauseous and immediately ran to the bathroom to vomit.

After I finished, she had already gone to bed and turned off the light. I slept alone in the living room, tossing and turning all night, thinking about what she had done, what she had said, and her eyes.

Over the next few weeks, we talked a lot. I knew my wife wasn't considering divorce or moving out, and she knew there was no future with Wang. He was married with children and didn't want a divorce, plus there was something she disliked—Wang smoked. They were just good friends and found that their spouses were in similar situations—Wang's wife couldn't attract him or satisfy him in bed. So, my wife and Wang naturally progressed from friendship to a sexual relationship.

In the end, we didn't divorce—and things continued like this. My wife still had a strong attraction for me, I still loved her deeply, and I didn't want my parents to suffer such a blow. We barely even talked about it; I was afraid that if I forced her to stop, she would leave me. I even knew she had told Wang what I knew about them. I don't know how many times before, after being intimate with Wang during the day, she would come home and sleep next to me.

Almost a year passed like this, and I became more certain that I didn't want to separate from my wife, and I felt that a large part of her life was something I couldn't truly access or understand. Her work attire, while still appropriate for the workplace, became more sexy, and she seemed more confident. As for me, I became even more infatuated with her, and I told her I agreed to their continued relationship, but on her condition that she tell me the details of their interactions—such as their date plans and the things they did together.

My wife agreed, and our relationship gradually improved. I knew when they would be together, and she would tell me what they did. This excited us both, but our sex life decreased. Sometimes, it wasn't convenient for them to be alone together, so I suggested to my wife that we could do it at home, and if he came over, I could leave to make room for them. My wife said she would consider it.

One morning, I was taking a shower when my wife poked her head in and asked if I would allow a guest to come over that morning. This was the first time I had to say yes, and I knew what was about to happen in my own home. She planned not to go to work that morning, and I heard her call Wang, telling him he could come over and that she would leave for work in half an hour.

That morning at work, I felt a deep emotional pain and couldn't work at all because I had to say yes, even though I didn't want this to happen. Around noon, my wife called me to say she was going to work right away. Although we both knew what was going to happen, we didn't say a word to each other.

Ten minutes later, I couldn't control myself any longer and immediately drove home. I entered the house and saw two used cups in the dining room, and the toilet seat in the bathroom was open. I didn't want to go to the bedroom, but I went in anyway. The bed was made, but the curtains were drawn; without the lights, the bedroom would be very dark. I opened the cabinet containing condoms and saw that the lid of the box inside was open, with a torn-open empty tin bag next to it.

Then I went back to the bathroom and found a few used, crumpled sheets of toilet paper on top of the wastebasket—they were wet. I picked them up and opened them, seeing that they contained "his" semen, not yet fully absorbed (I later learned that these sheets were to prevent leakage; after my wife got up, the semen started to flow, so she used the toilet paper to wipe and pad her vaginal opening to prevent further seepage).

The reality before me filled me with heart-wrenching jealousy and pain. This wasn't a fictional story; it was my completely real memory of being cuckolded. This wasn't partner swapping or any other exciting experience; it was a complete failure as a man, unable to satisfy my wife, while another man took her place. My wife wasn't the "slut" type, and this wasn't some game or fantasy; this was reality—so real and so painful. It completely shattered my self-esteem.

Soon after, I gradually changed. One day, my wife came home late from work, saying she was too tired to tell me what had happened—she'd tell me tomorrow—and then she went to bed. I saw her clothes on the closet, and her underwear in the bathroom. I'd always enjoyed seeing her in sexy underwear (but I'd never told her).

I noticed the crotch of her underwear was soaked, clearly with semen. But the semen wasn't completely white or like egg white; it was more yellow and viscous, and the smell was a mixture of sweat and… hard to find a suitable adjective—"ripe."

This was the first time I'd ever seen a mixture of male and female vaginal secretions. The liquid and smell gave me a strange, intense excitement, a excitement mixed with shame and embarrassment—who else would do something like this, checking their wife's underwear to find signs of infidelity? But after that, I frequently checked her underwear after she went to sleep.

Finally, one time my wife caught me. I thought she'd be furious—she did show a look of disgust, but she also admitted it was "pornographic" and "erotic." She asked me what I was doing with her underwear. I told her I smelled the semen and her bodily fluids on it. She asked if I'd licked it. I told her no. She then said she could imagine how stimulating it would be if I licked it, and then she went back to bed.

About a week later, my wife told me that she and Wang would be together after work and would be home late. When she got home, she asked if I planned to check her underwear again. I nodded. In the bedroom, she took off all her clothes except her underwear, then started pulling it down, looking at me and saying, "It's really dirty. If you don't like it, don't force yourself." Then she let the underwear slide to the floor.

I wanted to arouse my wife, so I helped her lift her legs and pick up her underwear. Like last time, it was soaked with semen and her bodily fluids, but this time it was still warm from her body. She told me not to force myself, but under her gaze, I gently licked the crotch of her underwear. While licking, I didn't actually feel much semen; it had probably all seeped into the fabric, but it still had a slightly salty and mild taste.

I felt a little nauseous—but I didn't vomit, not because of the taste, but because of the humiliation I had done.

My wife asked, "Do you like the taste?" I wasn't sure if she was serious or sarcastic. I told her it came from her body, so I liked it. She laughed and asked if I knew what I was licking. I said I knew; it contained Wang's semen, but since it came from her body and she wanted me to do it, I licked it as she wanted.

She said it was probably mostly Wang's semen because she had felt it flowing down there on the way home. Then she said she was tired and wanted to sleep. After turning off the light, I could smell the scent emanating from her. She lay on her side on the bed with her back to me. I slowly slid down, pressed my face against her buttocks, and began gently licking her cleft and the genitals used for intercourse.

Soon I heard her moan, then her hand reached behind her and gently pressed my head down. Because my wife had gone to bed exhausted after coming home without showering, I could feel an even stronger scent and more fluid coming from her genitals, and I could tell that what I was doing was very exciting for her.

A few minutes later, she reached orgasm and told me she loved me. Later, we talked in bed for a while. My wife said that what I had done had excited her a lot, and if I didn't feel disgusted or forced, we could do it again in the future.

Perhaps this is the reality for cuckolded men; it hurts deeply, but for some, they have no choice but to accept it.

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My wife's quirks (repost)

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