A wife recounts her experience of receiving a massage from a man.

We've been married for ten years, and our sex life is generally considered fulfilling... Well, "fulfilling" is hard to define, but basically, I enjoy making love with him; I don't experience the "fever-reducing" or "boredom" that experts talk about. The reason I go for massages is entirely because my husband loves browsing porn sites. After seeing some explicit stories, he teases me in bed. It's just for fun; there's nothing wrong with adding a little fantasy during sex—it's like pretending my husband isn't my real husband. We're a very ordinary couple. My husband is a junior manager, and I'm a typical housewife. When it comes to sex, we're probably like any other couple—we have no taboos. We watch porn, and during sex, we try some tricks—sexual fantasies or props, and occasionally we read erotic novels online… Honestly, I always feel those novels are written for men, or by men pretending to be women; they're about things that could never happen in real life. My husband gets very excited reading them, but as a woman, I know perfectly well whether those stories are true or false. Anyway, after all the fuss, my husband actually registered a QQ account and secretly posted explicit content online. When he found out, I was furious for a long time, feeling insulted. He's the only man I've ever had, and at thirty years old, he's still doing this kind of messy stuff? My husband said it was just for fun! Who says you have to agree to something? Unexpectedly, there were a lot of people responding, but none of them were actually married couples; most were single people looking to take advantage. After reading their chat history, it would be a lie to say I wasn't tempted. During that time, my husband wanted it almost every day, and I felt particularly aroused. But honestly, even my husband admitted it wasn't as simple as in pornographic novels… I can believe in extramarital affairs to some extent, but to just casually have sex, to do threesomes or group sex, is it that easy? Just based on a few words on QQ, who has the guts to choose a complete stranger? Regardless of looks, weight, etc., what if the other person blackmails you afterwards? With friends? Please, do you even want to live with yourself anymore? One day in bed, my husband mysteriously suggested, "How about we get a massage?" He'd heard it from a chat friend; a few shady men were gossiping and all said they'd heard it from someone else, so who knows if it's true? I didn't pay him any mind at the time; my husband's the type to jump to conclusions, and he forgets about it quickly once the excitement wears off… But this time, he kept bringing it up, saying it was just a massage, not necessarily anything more. I think it's also for safety reasons; safety is always a woman's first priority. With my husband around, a massage therapist is an expensive service, and checking into a hotel is convenient… Most importantly, I can't bring myself to actually have sex with another man. Fantasizing is fine, having those thoughts occasionally is okay, but in real life, it's practically suicide. Since my husband wants it, I'm also open to trying something new.
Actually, every woman has that thought of having a fling with another man, not because she doesn't love her husband or isn't sexually satisfied, but simply because she wants a little adventure. I think my husband thinks the same way. Adventure is one thing, but it has to be within controllable limits. Who's stupid enough to jump out of a plane without a parachute? After that massage, our sex life did indeed reach unprecedented levels of passion for about six months, but that was just a passing phase, like trying to pull the main character out of an adult film... I vividly remember that massage; although it was hard to accept, it was actually very stimulating. At first, I felt guilty, imagining a strange man in front of my husband... the feeling afterwards. However, because my husband didn't care at all, and even pretended to be the masseur every time we made love afterward, the stimulation was even greater than the massage itself. So, if your husband is open-minded enough, I suggest you try it, just a half-hearted approach; you can't force anything. I didn't refuse, and then my husband ran to the living room and got a newspaper. That damn guy had already drawn a bunch of red circles on it. My husband meant that he heard some masseuses cater to both men and women, so he wanted to be able to choose. I didn't want to get involved at all; just thinking about finding someone to massage me was enough to make me half-dead, how could I have the energy to care about his games? Finally, my husband chose a "genuine male massage therapist for relieving fatigue"... I agreed; he seemed quite respectable, at least my impression of him was. On the phone, I heard my husband ask if the afternoon was okay, then inquire about the duration of each session, the price, whether he also massaged men, etc. Finally, my husband even asked if the therapist offered the full service! I was anxious to stop my husband's nonsense, but I couldn't say anything... It seemed the therapist hesitated for a moment, and I don't know what they said to each other. After hanging up, I was angry. My husband explained gently that he just wanted to confirm if the massage therapist offered the half service, because the advertisement was so respectable... Since I had finally agreed, he didn't want to encounter a real "genuine male massage therapist for relieving fatigue." Okay! Although I felt embarrassed, my husband liked it, and—to be honest—I had a strange urge to try the pleasure of other men. My husband said this guy's price was quite high, so high it hurt his heart, then he smiled ambiguously and said, "With such a high price, he might actually have some skills!" The masseur didn't charge by sessions; he'd just do what you felt was enough. On the phone, he kept emphasizing that he'd actually trained in Japan and had top-notch massage skills. When my husband asked if he wanted the full service, the man hesitated for a long time before saying, "It depends on how you feel! If you feel it..." I warned my husband again that this was the only way, and not to think of any other tricks. That day, I even wore sexy, see-through lingerie. When we got to the hotel, my husband called the man again, and he called back to the hotel room to confirm. I first sat on the bed, but then thought it wouldn't be good to mess up the bed, so I sat on a chair. In short, my mind was in turmoil, I couldn't think straight, and I didn't dare move. My husband was the same, smoking one cigarette after another, filling the room with smoke. I knew he was nervous too. When the doorbell rang, I almost jumped up. I frantically asked my husband where I should stand. I know it was a stupid question, but I really didn't know where the best place to stand was. My husband shrugged, kissed me, and whispered, "I love you." Those words eased half of my nervousness, but the remaining half still made me feel like I was about to have a heart attack. The masseur was a very muscular man, even a bit overweight, at least 1.8 meters tall! Because I was shy and kept my head down, I didn't dare to see his face clearly, but he seemed alright. You know, we women judge men by our feelings; the most important thing is the feeling. If the feeling is right, then it's right. I stood at the farthest corner of the bed from the door, trying to make myself look more natural, forcing a smile… The masseur's voice was soft. He gently asked me what my name was. My husband answered for me, saying, "Just call her Juanjuan!" He was carrying a briefcase-like bag, then took out a bottle of something I couldn't identify, and asked, "Would you like to take a shower first?" I had already showered before leaving, but thinking about what I was going to do later, I felt I should shower again… Now I was facing a man… what if he meant he wanted to shower with me? Thinking of this, I suddenly felt hot all over, and I could barely stand. I quickly said that I had already washed, and had just washed.
Then he gestured for me to take off my clothes, so I blushed and took off my outer clothes first, revealing my see-through underwear. I noticed that he and my husband were both staring at my body. The air conditioning in the room had felt so cold just moments before, but now I wished my husband would turn it up a bit. I burrowed under the sheets, unsure where to look. I could only hear my husband's unusually dry voice saying, "My wife is very ticklish, so..." The masseur first expressed his regret, then went on to describe his technique. I didn't hear a word he said. All I could think about was where I could look without being impolite. Maybe I should close my eyes? But this masseur was very polite... Hmm! If you're also looking for a massage to relax, I suggest you get a feel for his attitude over the phone first. "Juanjuan... um! Do you mind my clothes?" The masseuse hinted in a gentle tone, "The oil massage will get them dirty!" I started taking off my bra under the sheet, and hesitated when taking off my panties... not because I was hesitant about whether I should take them off, since I was here and they were here, there was no reason not to. I was thinking that my movements would be clearly visible through the thin sheet, so how could I take them off gracefully? To be honest, I still don't know if I took them off gracefully. Although I was covered by the sheet, I was completely naked, and I felt a mix of fear, nervousness, and excitement. But this sheet, with just a gentle lift... My husband came over, took my underwear, kissed my cheek, and then sat down on a chair next to me, crossed his legs, and started smoking again. At this time, the masseuse also started taking off his clothes, explaining that it was an oil massage, so he had to take them off too. To my relief, he wasn't completely naked; he was still wearing a small pair of panties. I didn't consciously pay attention, but I still caught a glimpse. His buttocks were small, and they looked powerful against his physique. As for that area... it felt plump, not unlike my husband's. Then he told me to turn over. I turned over and lay face down on the pillow, which made me feel a little better not having to look at him. Then I thought to myself, what is this damn husband doing now, watching his wife being touched by someone else? Am I enjoying this, or is he? The masseur slowly lifted the sheet, and as the sheet was removed, my skin came into contact with the cold air in the room. This reminded me that my body was now completely exposed to a strange man... I guessed this wasn't a real oil massage, just lotion. The lotion felt so cold on my skin. "You have a great figure, such fair skin, your husband is so lucky!" The masseur's voice was very soft. His whisper made me feel like I was doing something incredible behind my husband's back, but the room was small, and I knew my husband could definitely hear me. His compliments, though perhaps just a professional habit, were still comforting to hear, and my shyness began to disappear. I've said before, women live by their feelings. He started by massaging my shoulders, very gently, asking in my ear if it hurt, if he was being too rough. The tension from before was starting to dissipate… It felt so good, so good that I forgot there was a man in his underwear next to me, so good that I forgot I was naked, so good that I almost fell asleep… Just as I relaxed, the masseur's hands moved down to my back. Massaging my shoulders was fine, but as he moved down, I started to feel ticklish… I'm really ticklish; whenever I'm angry or upset, my husband uses tickling to deal with me. Honestly, I don't know which part of my body isn't ticklish. Although it tickled, I was too embarrassed to say it; you know, women are afraid of being laughed at. I think I shifted slightly, and this man, experienced as he is, noticed even the slightest movement. He asked in a low voice, "Does it tickle?" I softly replied, "Mmm!" His voice was so gentle, and he was so attentive. My initial shyness almost completely disappeared, leaving only trust, just like my trust in my husband. Of course, a large part of it was also because I was lying face down; it seemed that hiding my face increased my sense of security. His hands continued to massage and slowly move downwards. When they reached my waist, I let out a soft "Pfft!" Hearing my laughter, he laughed too, and the tension in the room vanished completely. It was a very special experience; when you expose your flaws and find that the other person doesn't care, the relationship between the two people immediately becomes very close. So I told him I was ticklish, especially my waist… Talking to him was a very natural thing, like telling my beautician what kind of hairstyle I wanted. This ease only lasted a second, because when his hands left my waist and slid to my buttocks. He didn't rush to do anything; first, he poured some lotion on my buttocks and then started rubbing. Several times I felt he was about to touch my genitals, so close, but as if he had accidentally and apologetically, he immediately pulled away. I knew he would eventually touch there, but I was still afraid. Some things you can never get used to. With a mix of nervousness and anticipation, his hand left my buttocks and moved down. On one hand, I was a little disappointed that he'd given up on doing something "serious," and on the other hand, I started to worry about how sensitive my legs were. Suddenly, he began to gently massage my feet and said, "Your legs are so beautiful, so white and slender, so beautiful..." I knew he was sincere, at least I felt it was; that feeling was my whole life. Then he started kissing my legs, even holding my instep and stroking his cheek, as if he'd discovered the most beautiful treasure in the world... At first, I resisted and tried to pull away. No one had ever kissed my legs, no one had ever praised my feet. Maybe my parents had, but at least not since I can remember. He didn't let me go like he had during the massage earlier. He pulled me back, kissing me, and I felt his tongue darting between my toes... It wasn't a physical pleasure, but a psychological emotion. I almost felt like crying. This was the first time someone had kissed a place I'd never even noticed before. Some say women are "developed," and I tell you, that's absolutely true. From our first holding hands to my first kiss and caresses with my husband, I still remember the shock I felt when I first touched his penis.

Women rarely know what they want or don't want; they need a good man to guide them. We are not as rough as men; women are independent creatures like cats. I believe no two women feel the same way about sex, and at least a third of any sex education book you can find is wrong. Time seemed to stretch on forever. I was completely immersed in a feeling of being moved, not even noticing his hand moving between my thighs. When he touched my genitals, I realized how large his hand was, yet so delicate. He didn't directly violate my most intimate area, but simply stroked back and forth between my thighs, occasionally brushing against the cleft of my buttocks and immediately moving away, almost imperceptibly. I felt my whole body relax, dissolve. It wasn't pleasure, but I knew he was touching me, this gentle man was touching me… His hand slowly covered my genitals, completely covering them and gently kneading them, like a guardian angel. After a while, his fingers began to probe inside and outside the crevice, and suddenly he found my most sensitive clitoris, just lightly touching it. In that instant, I let out a soft "Oh!" I knew I shouldn't, but I felt like a small boat adrift on a gentle ocean, suddenly struck by lightning… I realized I was already wet; his touch made me feel that my clitoris was already covered in love juice, his fingers easily gliding and teasing it. Every muscle in my body was awakened, uncontrollably, I arched my hips, but he remained gentle, unhurried and unconcerned. The first pleasure came slowly; besides gripping the sheets tightly, I couldn't do anything. This surging pleasure never subsided, not like the waves people describe, but more like a tsunami; you never know where it will reach its peak. His hands were so light, so naturally penetrating my lower body. I could hear the sound of water flowing between my legs, like waves crashing against rocks… I tried to hold back my cries, but my body wouldn't cooperate. I wanted to roll over, to leap up, but my body was downward, a sense of powerlessness rising within me. Besides trying to raise my hips as high as possible to meet his, I was helpless. I thought I was about to cry, perhaps I already was… but his gentleness wouldn't let me go. I didn't know I could be so wet, like a dam bursting, unstoppable. Actually, there was no need for sex, no need for any movement. Now, sitting here recalling the wanton sounds my lower body made, my heart feels like it's about to explode, my face as red as an apple. Then his hands left, and suddenly I felt a void, my hands leaving the sheets. I thought if it weren't for the sheets I was holding onto, I would have screamed, screamed with all my might. He turned me around; this man was so strong, like a god, gently lifting me up and flipping me over without me even feeling it. Turning my head, I saw my husband. I couldn't see his face clearly, but I knew he had seen everything. He was still smoking, maintaining the same sitting posture. I didn't know if it was shame or excitement, but a feeling filled my chest. My man was watching me being played with, and I shamelessly reached orgasm... I felt a kind of love from my husband; I knew he loved me like this, loved me for letting my truest self be. But it was difficult; I could only turn my emotions to the sheets. Only then did I realize how sore my fingers were. He leaned closer, kissing my nipples and groping them. He gently stroked my breasts, occasionally lightly touching my nipples. My nipples were very sensitive; every time he touched one, my whole body trembled, just like my husband trembled when he ejaculated. His face came closer, a simple face, weathered by time. I suddenly had an urge to kiss him, but wouldn't that be foolish? He gently bit my earlobe... Oh my god! Heavy breathing filled my ears, and I felt dizzy. Like a broken doll whose soul had been ripped out, my body had vanished, leaving only the sound of his breathing, the heavy breathing… The dizziness persisted, spreading like ripples, only to begin again, constantly expanding. This person had found my weakness, my most vulnerable spot. Besides telling me my feet were beautiful, he had found my most vulnerable place. “Do you like it?” he murmured in my ear. Uncontrollably, I said, “I like it!” I think I still retained a sliver of reason. If this person were my husband, I would have hugged him tightly and shouted, “I love you!” I could feel his lower body rubbing against my waist, very hard… I think he was doing it on purpose. Perhaps he wanted me? Just then, he reached for my genitals with one hand and gently stroked my hair with the other, saying, "You're so beautiful, so very beautiful... Has anyone told you you're beautiful?" Then he removed his hand from my hair and gently took mine, touching his genitals through my small underwear. Perhaps it was shock! This was the first time I'd ever touched the genitals of a man other than my husband. I snapped out of my reverie and immediately withdrew my hand. He didn't force me; he moved away, gently spreading my legs and beginning to kiss my genitals. It was a fusion of shame and pleasure. I tried to pull my legs back slightly, leaving them half-open, but he gently pushed them completely open again, my entire vulva exposed to a stranger. His tongue swirled around my clitoris, while waves of sensation washed over me. As the climax approached, my legs, which had been slightly tense, completely relaxed and opened. I moved closer to him, wanting only to get closer, closer… Then I finally made a sound, beginning to moan unrestrainedly. All shame was cast aside; I only knew I wanted more, I wanted him to give me more pleasure. I don't know if I said "I love you," but I think I at least said "Give it to me, give it to me again…" It really wasn't because he was so beautiful; I was exhausted, almost breathless… He was back in my ear. The constant, intertwined pleasures, all sorts of different pleasures, made me forget everything with his kisses… I don't know why I reached out and pulled his penis out of his underwear. At first, I just gently touched it, feeling his hardness, feeling the throbbing of his penis, its thickness. Slowly, I started to go crazy, rubbing and thrusting recklessly, my mind only wanting to rub until he ejaculated, to ejaculate lots and lots of semen. His hand finally entered my vagina. With each movement of his fingers, I grew increasingly excited, and I could feel his excitement too. I was practically going crazy, writhing my hips on the bed, moaning and panting. I reached my climax, arching my back, and almost instantly climaxed again. I was so tired, unable to hold his alluring penis, and unable to arch my back any further. I was so exhausted; I didn't know how many orgasms I'd experienced… I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn't, I knew I couldn't. Was it time, or did he think I was done? In truth, I was satisfied, though not with penetration. But I knew I had my husband later, and I would want him to penetrate me once or twice. If he refused after the masseur left, I would rape him… But at that moment, my mind was filled with the image of the masseur's penis. I knew my husband was coming. I closed my eyes, unable to look at him. After all, I had done so many shameful things in front of him. My husband looked down and asked if I wanted the full service… I didn’t know. I knew I should say no, but damn it, all I could think about was that hard thing I’d just been holding. This damn man was testing me, but I couldn’t refuse. Damn it, I just couldn’t say no. My husband asked again, and I didn’t answer because I couldn’t say yes, but I couldn’t say no either. I don’t know what my husband and the masseuse did. They didn’t say anything, but I guessed they were shaking their heads or nodding. I turned to the side, closed my eyes, and turned my back to them. Although the passion was still there, I didn’t dare look at my husband, nor did I want to look at the masseuse again, afraid that I would lose control and say yes. My husband returned to the bedside. He started kissing me and whispered in my ear, “Juanjuan! I love you, you’re so amazing!” Just then, I realized that the masseuse had climbed on top of me from below… He first used his hands to spread my legs, just as gently and skillfully. My legs weren’t unopenable, but this time was different. This time he was going to use his… God! His huge body pressed down on me, and I felt so scared. Then, after kissing me, my husband pulled away, abandoning me. I was so scared. Was this really going to happen? Was this the right thing to do? He started kissing my nipples, my earlobe, and then I knew nothing more. I only knew that his penis was rubbing against my clitoris, rubbing and rubbing. I knew I was wet, I could even feel my vagina opening, waiting, hoping. My body was ready, and that penis I loved so much was ready too, but… I turned my head, and my husband was smoking, I don’t know how many cigarettes he’d smoked. …In my daze, I thought about my first time with my husband, and what would happen after that, and what would happen after that. How long is that instant? I only know that in that instant, everything about my husband and me flashed through my mind like lightning, so clear.So captivating. I love him so much, he's my only man. I know I love him, but I never realized how deeply I loved him. To me, my husband is more important than everything else in the world combined. When that person entered me, I could clearly feel my lower body being breached by a force, a hard, large penis being inserted into my vagina. I felt a sense of despair, even sadness. I had lost my uniqueness, and from then on, I had no pride left... I turned my head towards the wall, not wanting to look at my husband, thinking I might as well just die. I didn't want to see anything except that wall covered in vulgar wallpaper. There was no excuse; I had lost my virginity. At this moment, a completely unfamiliar penis was freely entering and exiting my lower body—I could comfort and explain myself when my lower body was penetrated by fingers, but now it was a penis, which would ejaculate semen that would make me give birth, a penis belonging to a man other than my husband... If it weren't for politeness, I think I would have pushed this person away, rushed into the bathroom, poured out all my grievances, and then locked myself in there forever until I died of old age. That's why I advise those who want to try it to stop in moderation. Doing half a round is really enough; it's enough to take you to unprecedented heights and satisfy all your fantasies. The feeling of being penetrated by a stranger is really exhilarating, like being forced into rape. Even though it's voluntary, it still feels like rape, being forcibly penetrated. Of course, it depends on luck, meaning whether there's a man who truly loves you willing to be with you… I felt nothing, although the sounds of water from my lower body were still there, and I could feel that dildo I had just been infatuated with thrusting inside me. But sex isn't just about gentleness… Just as I was about to shed tears, my husband came up behind me, gently stroking my hair and turning my head. My husband looked at me for what seemed like a thousand years, without saying a word… Then he began to kiss me. I'd never kissed like this before. It felt like a life-or-death separation. Do you know what it feels like to kiss with all your might? In my husband's kiss, I felt an intense jealousy that could burn the heavens and earth, along with fear and boundless desire… I couldn't tell which feeling was stronger, but I knew that the sum of all these feelings was love. Nothing else could make it feel like this. Ignoring the other person's actions, I hugged my husband and kissed him passionately, letting him know I would never let him leave again. A strange penis was still gently inserted into my lower body, and the feeling was incredibly new! Suddenly, my husband pushed me away. I'd never seen him undress so quickly before, as if the world would end if he waited any longer. His penis practically jumped out of his underwear, red and shiny, its rounded glans beckoning and calling to me. My desire was rekindled. I swallowed my husband's penis, sucking hard, circling the glans with my tongue. I wanted it in my mouth, I wanted it to feel good, I wanted to give everything to this penis that I would always love. With my husband's penis in my mouth and another dildo inserted into my lower body, I knew this was what people called a threesome. But was this really it? Because at that moment, all I could think about was my husband. Although I was starting to feel pleasure in my lower body, I believed it was all from my husband, from that dildo in my mouth. But less than a minute later, my husband pulled back, taking the dildo that belonged only to me out of my mouth. My automatic reaction was to reach out and grab it, but my husband took a step back. I didn't know anything else; all I knew was that I wanted his dildo, I wanted to eat it, I wanted it to stay in my mouth forever. I cried in desperation. My husband immediately leaned over and kissed my face, wiping away my tears, but I knew he was deliberately keeping his lower body far away from me. Probably afraid that the other person would hear! He whispered, "I can't take it anymore..." The other person, contrary to his previous gentleness, started to exert himself, while my husband kissed my earlobe. Enveloped in my husband's love, the shame I had felt earlier had vanished. However, his penetration felt really good, very good, but it was obviously much less comfortable than the caresses I'd just had with my hands. They both left me almost simultaneously. I barely noticed him pulling out; I only realized my husband was gone. Disappointment washed over me, like having to answer a phone call halfway through sex. My disappointment stemmed from my husband no longer kissing my earlobe, not from whether the other man continued penetrating me. I even wanted my husband to pay him off and get rid of him so we could just stay in bed and make love a hundred times over. My husband gently patted me; I knew he wanted me to turn over. I obeyed; I always listen to my husband. Then I felt him supporting my hips; I knew he wanted me to lift up so he could enter from behind, our favorite position. I liked it this way; I liked anything my husband liked… At that moment, I longed for my husband's big penis, for him to thrust into me forcefully, relentlessly until he killed me. I wanted it so badly, immediately. I wanted it so badly. My husband's penis was so hard, pressing against me, filling me completely, even my heart. But my husband didn't move. The feeling was completely different when his penis pierced my vagina. It was like a warm current rushing in, from deep inside my vagina straight to my head, making my limbs go numb and weak. I gasped, "This is it... the familiar hardness I don't need to see, the love I can feel intuitively." My husband didn't move, and I felt satisfied without him moving. If he moved, I might reach orgasm immediately. In my heart, I cried out, "Husband, please move! I'm so itchy inside, why won't you penetrate me?" Then the person came to my face, knelt down, gently held my limp head, and asked tenderly, "Is it comfortable?" I almost screamed, "It's comfortable! Penetrate me! Penetrate me, please?" I knew the reason my husband didn't move was because he couldn't hold on... Then the situation changed. The masseur was watching me and my husband make love, watching his hot, red penis penetrate my vagina. This was another feeling, the feeling of being watched by a stranger. This feeling made me even hotter, and I wanted my husband to thrust into me harder, without any mercy. We were locked in a stalemate, with my husband occasionally making a slight thrust, and at those moments, my nerves felt like they were being burned… The man just gently stroked my hair, touching me lightly, doing nothing. His condom was off, and his penis was drooping, completely unlike its previous grandeur. It wasn't completely shrunken; the length remained the same, but it was soft, and the two testicles hung there fragilely and helplessly. Many people think that women like hard, lively penises, but they don't know that a penis resting right after sex evokes even more tenderness. Women love vulnerable little creatures, just like I like it when my husband kisses my breasts, feeling a maternal instinct rise from within. At this moment, I felt the same way about these two drooping testicles. Although this man was physically strong, he had such a vulnerable side, making me want to kiss it. I tried to extend my buttocks backward, and although my husband seemed to have controlled himself, he didn't thrust into me as forcefully as before, just gently and slowly. The more I couldn't have it, the more my desire intensified; my heart felt like it was being weighed down by a huge rock. The man began to caress my breasts, kiss my earlobe, and murmur praises of my chest… My husband started moving, shouting as he thrust, "Eat his, Juanjuan, eat his." Although he wasn't as vigorous as before, the thrusts felt millions of times more pleasurable. My husband's penis was inside me, rocking me back and forth, making me feel incredibly uncomfortable.Is that the feeling of kissing with all your might? In my husband's kiss, I felt an intense jealousy, enough to burn the heavens and earth, along with fear and boundless desire… I couldn't tell which feeling was stronger, but I knew that the sum of all these feelings was love. Nothing else could make it feel like this. Ignoring the other person's actions, I hugged my husband and kissed him passionately, letting him know I would never let him leave again. A strange penis was still gently inserted into my lower body, and that feeling was incredibly new! Suddenly, my husband pushed me away. I had never seen him undress so quickly before, as if the world would end if he waited any longer. His penis practically jumped out of his underwear, red and shiny, its rounded glans beckoning and calling to me. My desire was rekindled. I swallowed my husband's penis, sucking hard, circling the glans with my tongue. I wanted it in my mouth, I wanted it to feel good, I wanted to give everything to this penis that I would always love. With my husband's penis in my mouth and another dildo inserted into my lower body, I knew this was what people called a threesome. But was this really it? Because at that moment, all I could think about was my husband. Although I was starting to feel pleasure in my lower body, I believed it was all from my husband, from that dildo in my mouth. But less than a minute later, my husband pulled back, taking the dildo that belonged only to me out of my mouth. My automatic reaction was to reach out and grab it, but my husband took a step back. I didn't know anything else; all I knew was that I wanted his dildo, I wanted to eat it, I wanted it to stay in my mouth forever. I cried in desperation. My husband immediately leaned over and kissed my face, wiping away my tears, but I knew he was deliberately keeping his lower body far away from me. Probably afraid that the other person would hear! He whispered, "I can't take it anymore..." The other person, contrary to his previous gentleness, started to exert himself, while my husband kissed my earlobe. Enveloped in my husband's love, the shame I had felt earlier had vanished. However, his penetration felt really good, very good, but it was obviously much less comfortable than the caresses I'd just had with my hands. They both left me almost simultaneously. I barely noticed him pulling out; I only realized my husband was gone. Disappointment washed over me, like having to answer a phone call halfway through sex. My disappointment stemmed from my husband no longer kissing my earlobe, not from whether the other man continued penetrating me. I even wanted my husband to pay him off and get rid of him so we could just stay in bed and make love a hundred times over. My husband gently patted me; I knew he wanted me to turn over. I obeyed; I always listen to my husband. Then I felt him supporting my hips; I knew he wanted me to lift up so he could enter from behind, our favorite position. I liked it this way; I liked anything my husband liked… At that moment, I longed for my husband's big penis, for him to thrust into me forcefully, relentlessly until he killed me. I wanted it so badly, immediately. I wanted it so badly. My husband's penis was so hard, pressing against me, filling me completely, even my heart. But my husband didn't move. The feeling was completely different when his penis pierced my vagina. It was like a warm current rushing in, from deep inside my vagina straight to my head, making my limbs go numb and weak. I gasped, "This is it... the familiar hardness I don't need to see, the love I can feel intuitively." My husband didn't move, and I felt satisfied without him moving. If he moved, I might reach orgasm immediately. In my heart, I cried out, "Husband, please move! I'm so itchy inside, why won't you penetrate me?" Then the person came to my face, knelt down, gently held my limp head, and asked tenderly, "Is it comfortable?" I almost screamed, "It's comfortable! Penetrate me! Penetrate me, please?" I knew the reason my husband didn't move was because he couldn't hold on... Then the situation changed. The masseur was watching me and my husband make love, watching his hot, red penis penetrate my vagina. This was another feeling, the feeling of being watched by a stranger. This feeling made me even hotter, and I wanted my husband to thrust into me harder, without any mercy. We were locked in a stalemate, with my husband occasionally making a slight thrust, and at those moments, my nerves felt like they were being burned… The man just gently stroked my hair, touching me lightly, doing nothing. His condom was off, and his penis was drooping, completely unlike its previous grandeur. It wasn't completely shrunken; the length remained the same, but it was soft, and the two testicles hung there fragilely and helplessly. Many people think that women like hard, lively penises, but they don't know that a penis resting right after sex evokes even more tenderness. Women love vulnerable little creatures, just like I like it when my husband kisses my breasts, feeling a maternal instinct rise from within. At this moment, I felt the same way about these two drooping testicles. Although this man was physically strong, he had such a vulnerable side, making me want to kiss it. I tried to extend my buttocks backward, and although my husband seemed to have controlled himself, he didn't thrust into me as forcefully as before, just gently and slowly. The more I couldn't have it, the more my desire intensified; my heart felt like it was being weighed down by a huge rock. The man began to caress my breasts, kiss my earlobe, and murmur praises of my chest… My husband started moving, shouting as he thrust, "Eat his, Juanjuan, eat his." Although he wasn't as vigorous as before, the thrusts felt millions of times more pleasurable. My husband's penis was inside me, rocking me back and forth, making me feel incredibly uncomfortable.Is that the feeling of kissing with all your might? In my husband's kiss, I felt an intense jealousy, enough to burn the heavens and earth, along with fear and boundless desire… I couldn't tell which feeling was stronger, but I knew that the sum of all these feelings was love. Nothing else could make it feel like this. Ignoring the other person's actions, I hugged my husband and kissed him passionately, letting him know I would never let him leave again. A strange penis was still gently inserted into my lower body, and that feeling was incredibly new! Suddenly, my husband pushed me away. I had never seen him undress so quickly before, as if the world would end if he waited any longer. His penis practically jumped out of his underwear, red and shiny, its rounded glans beckoning and calling to me. My desire was rekindled. I swallowed my husband's penis, sucking hard, circling the glans with my tongue. I wanted it in my mouth, I wanted it to feel good, I wanted to give everything to this penis that I would always love. With my husband's penis in my mouth and another dildo inserted into my lower body, I knew this was what people called a threesome. But was this really it? Because at that moment, all I could think about was my husband. Although I was starting to feel pleasure in my lower body, I believed it was all from my husband, from that dildo in my mouth. But less than a minute later, my husband pulled back, taking the dildo that belonged only to me out of my mouth. My automatic reaction was to reach out and grab it, but my husband took a step back. I didn't know anything else; all I knew was that I wanted his dildo, I wanted to eat it, I wanted it to stay in my mouth forever. I cried in desperation. My husband immediately leaned over and kissed my face, wiping away my tears, but I knew he was deliberately keeping his lower body far away from me. Probably afraid that the other person would hear! He whispered, "I can't take it anymore..." The other person, contrary to his previous gentleness, started to exert himself, while my husband kissed my earlobe. Enveloped in my husband's love, the shame I had felt earlier had vanished. However, his penetration felt really good, very good, but it was obviously much less comfortable than the caresses I'd just had with my hands. They both left me almost simultaneously. I barely noticed him pulling out; I only realized my husband was gone. Disappointment washed over me, like having to answer a phone call halfway through sex. My disappointment stemmed from my husband no longer kissing my earlobe, not from whether the other man continued penetrating me. I even wanted my husband to pay him off and get rid of him so we could just stay in bed and make love a hundred times over. My husband gently patted me; I knew he wanted me to turn over. I obeyed; I always listen to my husband. Then I felt him supporting my hips; I knew he wanted me to lift up so he could enter from behind, our favorite position. I liked it this way; I liked anything my husband liked… At that moment, I longed for my husband's big penis, for him to thrust into me forcefully, relentlessly until he killed me. I wanted it so badly, immediately. I wanted it so badly. My husband's penis was so hard, pressing against me, filling me completely, even my heart. But my husband didn't move. The feeling was completely different when his penis pierced my vagina. It was like a warm current rushing in, from deep inside my vagina straight to my head, making my limbs go numb and weak. I gasped, "This is it... the familiar hardness I don't need to see, the love I can feel intuitively." My husband didn't move, and I felt satisfied without him moving. If he moved, I might reach orgasm immediately. In my heart, I cried out, "Husband, please move! I'm so itchy inside, why won't you penetrate me?" Then the person came to my face, knelt down, gently held my limp head, and asked tenderly, "Is it comfortable?" I almost screamed, "It's comfortable! Penetrate me! Penetrate me, please?" I knew the reason my husband didn't move was because he couldn't hold on... Then the situation changed. The masseur was watching me and my husband make love, watching his hot, red penis penetrate my vagina. This was another feeling, the feeling of being watched by a stranger. This feeling made me even hotter, and I wanted my husband to thrust into me harder, without any mercy. We were locked in a stalemate, with my husband occasionally making a slight thrust, and at those moments, my nerves felt like they were being burned… The man just gently stroked my hair, touching me lightly, doing nothing. His condom was off, and his penis was drooping, completely unlike its previous grandeur. It wasn't completely shrunken; the length remained the same, but it was soft, and the two testicles hung there fragilely and helplessly. Many people think that women like hard, lively penises, but they don't know that a penis resting right after sex evokes even more tenderness. Women love vulnerable little creatures, just like I like it when my husband kisses my breasts, feeling a maternal instinct rise from within. At this moment, I felt the same way about these two drooping testicles. Although this man was physically strong, he had such a vulnerable side, making me want to kiss it. I tried to extend my buttocks backward, and although my husband seemed to have controlled himself, he didn't thrust into me as forcefully as before, just gently and slowly. The more I couldn't have it, the more my desire intensified; my heart felt like it was being weighed down by a huge rock. The man began to caress my breasts, kiss my earlobe, and murmur praises of my chest… My husband started moving, shouting as he thrust, "Eat his, Juanjuan, eat his." Although he wasn't as vigorous as before, the thrusts felt millions of times more pleasurable. My husband's penis was inside me, rocking me back and forth, making me feel incredibly uncomfortable.The feeling of being watched by a stranger made me even hotter, and I wanted my husband to thrust into me harder, without any mercy. We remained locked in a stalemate, with my husband occasionally making a slight thrust, each time feeling like my nerves were being burned… The man simply stroked my hair, gently touching me, doing nothing else. His condom was off, and his penis was drooping, completely unlike its previous grandeur. It wasn't completely shrunken; the length remained the same, but it was soft, the two testicles hanging there fragilely and helplessly. Many people think women like hard, erect penises, but they don't know that a penis resting right after sex evokes even more tenderness. Women love vulnerable little creatures, just like I like it when my husband kisses my breasts, feeling a maternal instinct rise within me. At that moment, I felt the same way about my drooping testicles. Although this man was physically strong, he had such a vulnerable side, making me want to kiss it. I tried to extend my buttocks further back, and although my husband seemed to have controlled himself, he didn't thrust as forcefully as before, just gently and slowly. The more I couldn't have it, the more my desire intensified; my heart felt like it was being weighed down by a huge rock. The man began to caress my breasts, kiss my earlobe, and murmur praises of my chest… My husband started moving, shouting as he thrust, "Eat his, Juanjuan, eat his." Although he wasn't as vigorous as before, the thrusts felt millions of times more pleasurable. My husband's penis was inside me, rocking me back and forth, making me feel incredibly uncomfortable.The feeling of being watched by a stranger made me even hotter, and I wanted my husband to thrust into me harder, without any mercy. We remained locked in a stalemate, with my husband occasionally making a slight thrust, each time feeling like my nerves were being burned… The man simply stroked my hair, gently touching me, doing nothing else. His condom was off, and his penis was drooping, completely unlike its previous grandeur. It wasn't completely shrunken; the length remained the same, but it was soft, the two testicles hanging there fragilely and helplessly. Many people think women like hard, erect penises, but they don't know that a penis resting right after sex evokes even more tenderness. Women love vulnerable little creatures, just like I like it when my husband kisses my breasts, feeling a maternal instinct rise within me. At that moment, I felt the same way about my drooping testicles. Although this man was physically strong, he had such a vulnerable side, making me want to kiss it. I tried to extend my buttocks further back, and although my husband seemed to have controlled himself, he didn't thrust as forcefully as before, just gently and slowly. The more I couldn't have it, the more my desire intensified; my heart felt like it was being weighed down by a huge rock. The man began to caress my breasts, kiss my earlobe, and murmur praises of my chest… My husband started moving, shouting as he thrust, "Eat his, Juanjuan, eat his." Although he wasn't as vigorous as before, the thrusts felt millions of times more pleasurable. My husband's penis was inside me, rocking me back and forth, making me feel incredibly uncomfortable.
(This article is a reprint, but the short video shared is actually filmed by my husband and me.)
Many couples want to introduce their wives to 3P and couples dating, but they don't know how to convince their wives to accept it. Actually, it's not difficult to get your wife to accept it. You can start by arranging for a male masseur to come to your home for a proper massage to guide her slowly. I feel that this is the most natural way to guide your wife to participate in 3P.

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A wife recounts her experience of receiving a massage from a man.

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