Embarking on the Green Path of Wife-Cuckolding 3

—A serialized account of a woman's love affair with her husband,
Liu Quan:

My wife's methods and techniques of sex have changed significantly. A few times stand out in my memory: One night, when I was about to ejaculate during sex, my wife cried out, "Don't ejaculate, ejaculate on my breasts!"
Before I could react, I had already ejaculated most of it inside her vagina, with only a small amount landing on her breasts after I withdrew. My wife carefully smeared the semen that had flowed from her vagina onto her breasts, massaging it in circles.
I asked her what was wrong, and she said she had read online that male semen could promote breast development in women. My wife is very beautiful, but her breasts aren't large, and she felt somewhat inferior about it.
Later, a male friend, J, told me in a chat that he had taught my wife to do this, telling her that male semen could make a woman's breasts fuller and also had nutritional value, something she could eat as a supplement.
Another time, after my wife finished showering, instead of lying naked in bed waiting for me as usual, she covered herself with a sheet.
When I lifted the sheets after my shower, I was shocked to see my wife wearing an extremely sexy black lace see-through bodysuit, black garter belts, and semi-transparent black stockings (though I bought these for her, she never wears them because she finds them too troublesome, and always takes them off completely during sex). My eyes nearly popped out of my head.
Later, a guy named J told me that he had been indoctrinating my wife, saying that normal men like women wearing sexy lingerie to seduce their husbands in bed, and that since her husband treats her so well, she should reciprocate by doing things that make him happy. Good
heavens, what kind of creatures are women? Why is it that after all these years of talking to my wife, she refuses to do it, while other men do it so readily after just a few words? The most unforgettable time was
when my wife was giving me oral sex and asked me, "Your penis is smaller than other men's."
I was shocked and asked her, "Smaller? You haven't seen other men's, how do you know?"
Her face turned bright red, and she stammered, unsure how to hide her embarrassment. She then lowered her head to continue the oral sex, saying, "I guessed."
My wife is definitely the kind of woman who, even an idiot, can spot a lie.
I suspected something was wrong.
The next day, the single man, J, told me that he had sent my wife a picture of his penis.
Judging from the picture, J's penis was indeed large, especially the glans, which was shiny and triangular, like a large egg, much bigger than mine.
He also sent me a picture, saying it was sent to him by my wife.
I was wondering if it was a nude photo I had taken of my wife (I had taken sexy photos of her, but not completely nude ones). Could she have given this kind of photo to this single man, J?
The picture opened, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't a nude photo, but a blurry picture of my wife in a spaghetti-strap nightgown. I had taken pictures of her with her curly hair down, her shoulders partially exposed, her face flushed with desire—she looked even more alluring than a nude photo.
Good heavens, sending a man a photo like this, what man wouldn't reveal his true nature?
They've gone this far; what does this mean? I felt a pang of sadness and a sense of inferiority. Although I fantasized about being cuckolded, I was truly surprised that things had progressed this quickly.
It turns out that during those ten-odd days I was away on a business trip, my wife not only chatted with him in the office (sending such pictures in the office is obviously unsafe and impractical), but also chatted with him late into the night in the bedroom after putting the children to sleep.
The topics of conversation naturally became quite in-depth, and since we were at home, it was more relaxed and casual, so she could say and send whatever she wanted.
Moreover, since I wasn't online, Single Man J couldn't show me the chat content immediately.
I asked Single Man J if we had video-chatted during those nights.
He said, "Not yet. The timing isn't right. If we video-chatted now, a virtuous woman would often regret it and feel guilty towards her husband. Then, when we actually meet, she would deliberately avoid meeting me, and it would all be for nothing, and we might never see each other again.
Not doing it video-chat now is to leave her some leeway, so that we can meet and talk more easily in the future, and maintain a friendly relationship."
I'm playing hard to get. Your wife is outstanding, beautiful, and has a great temperament; she's one of the best women I've ever met. Of course, I want to have her in bed, but I only do things I'm absolutely certain of.
When the time and place are right, I'll get her into bed in a reasonable way.
This way, I'll satisfy your desire to be cuckolded, give your wife a profound experience, and let me have my fill—a win-win-win situation.
I'm utterly impressed; he's amazing. No wonder he's conquered so many women. My wife is probably doomed in front of such a master.
At this point, I increasingly feel that it's hard to guarantee that nothing will happen between my wife and the single man J; it's probably only a matter of time.
Actually, even at this point, my thoughts are still stuck in fantasy. On one hand, I fantasize about my wife and the single man J having an affair; on the other hand, I still think that such a thing won't happen to us. After all, my wife has received so many years of traditional education and is so traditional. She might be a little more open online, but she definitely wouldn't do it in real life.
Me too. The thought of being cuckolded and branded a cuckold is hard to shake off. This conflicting feeling of wanting my wife to cheat on me while simultaneously fearing it has been weighing on my mind. On one hand, I strongly desire that Single Man J and my wife continue their relationship; on the other hand, I genuinely hope they don't progress too quickly, or even just stay online and don't end up together in real life.
At this point, Single Man J asked me how I felt. I said, "You're amazing, a real pro."
Seeing that I hadn't mentioned the important point, Single Man J asked again, "Anything else? Is that all? You must have other ideas, right?" I hesitated, wanting to express my conflicted feelings, but afraid Single Man J would laugh at me for being a sore loser.
He seemed to read my mind and said, "If you regret it now, it's not too late. After all, we're only communicating online, and your wife and I haven't slept together."
I felt a little guilty and said, "No, no, I'm just a little awkward.
I'm afraid my wife won't accept it in the end."
Single man J typed a smiling emoji: "You're using your wife as an excuse, aren't you? You can't get over this. All you cuckolded husbands are like this; back and forth is normal. Eventually you'll all accept it, it's just a matter of time, and you'll even be grateful for everything I've done."
Facing his sharp, incisive words on the other end of the computer screen, I fell silent: What am I doing? Why do his words feel like hammer blows to my vulnerable heart? He's average in looks and physique, far inferior to me, and even less comparable to male celebrities. Why does he act like a high and mighty emperor, while I'm like a slave groveling at his feet? And not only do I have to give my beautiful wife to him, but I also have to be grateful for the pleasure he brings to my wife and me? Just because he's slept with so many women and has such a big penis? Can a big penis alone make all women submit?
I suddenly felt a strong urge: I'm not a slave, I don't want to be a slave. He's not my king. He's average, and my wife wouldn't accept him, much less sleep with him.
I can't go on like this.
I mustered all my strength, took a deep breath, and typed: "Sorry, I need to think about this more carefully. Let's not talk about it for now."
Single guy J paused, seemingly surprised that I would do this, but quickly replied: "Okay, it's alright, we can all understand."
I said: "You should also refrain from talking to my wife for now."
We need to adjust.
He agreed.

After logging off, I felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted, as if I had escaped from his grasp. I took a deep breath, relieved that I could still control everything and hadn't lost myself.
That night, after going to bed, I was somewhat distracted, constantly thinking about these things.

My wife noticed something was wrong and thought something was wrong at work, asking me what was going on.
I suddenly wanted to know her true thoughts, so I asked her: "If you and J really met, would you really sleep together?" My wife was taken aback, probably not expecting me to ask such a question, and didn't know how to answer or what my purpose was.
I said: "Don't worry, darling, I just want to know your true thoughts.
Tell me what you think, even if you're willing to sleep with him, I don't mind."
My wife said: "There's nothing to it. It's your fault for always leading us into this, constantly tempting your wife to sleep with other men. You're a pervert."
I sighed: "I don't know what's wrong with me, I keep having these thoughts.
But if I really saw you having sex with another man in bed, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to accept it."
My wife said, "Don't talk nonsense, I wouldn't. That's just talk in bed, and besides, you told me to say it."
Now that I think about it, I realize I went too far. I've never chatted with a man like that before. Maybe I shouldn't talk to him anymore, in case he's a bad person.
I asked knowingly, "What do you talk about with him?" My wife thought for a moment and said, "Not much, just some work and family stuff. He knows a lot, and I can learn a lot from him."
I felt a pang of jealousy: "That's all you talk about?" My wife hummed in agreement and didn't say anything.
I didn't ask any more questions. We lay there quietly, each lost in our own thoughts, without making love.
I knew very well that my wife was clearly interested and was hiding things from me. What should I do? Should I stop here and go back to normal, or should I go further and further down the path into an abyss of uncertainty?
In the days that followed, life seemed to return to normal.

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