Sharing a nice heterosexual massage 3P story with everyone (reposted)

We've been married for four years, and our sex life is pretty much perfect... Well, "perfect" 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 and, after seeing some wife-swapping stories, he teases me about it 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 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, try some tricks during sex—sexual fantasies or using props—and occasionally read erotic novels online... Honestly, I always feel those novels are written for men, or by men pretending to be women; they're all 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 created a QQ account and secretly posted ads online seeking wife-swapping partners. 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 anything? Surprisingly, there were a lot of responses, but none of them were actually couples; most were single people looking to take advantage.
After reading their chat logs, 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 to actually do it, even my husband admitted it wasn't as simple as in pornographic novels… I can believe in extramarital affairs to some extent, but is it really that easy to just casually engage in wife-swapping or group sex? Who has the guts to choose a complete stranger based on just a few words on QQ? Aside from looks, weight, etc., what if the other person blackmails you afterward? My husband, please, are you trying to be a decent human being?
One day in bed, he mysteriously suggested we get a massage. He'd heard it from a chat friend—a bunch of shady men gossiping about things they'd heard from others, who knows if it's true or not. I didn't pay him any mind at the time; my husband's like that, he's impulsive and forgets about it quickly once the excitement wears off… But he kept bringing it up, saying it was just a massage, not like we'd actually do anything.
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's been insistent, I'm also tempted to try it out.
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. Taking risks is one thing, but risks must be within controllable limits. Who's stupid enough to jump out of a plane without a parachute?
After that massage, our sex life did become incredibly passionate for six months, but that was just a side effect, like trying to take the lead in an adult film... I remember that massage vividly; 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... that feeling afterwards. But 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 already making me half-dead; how could I have the energy to care about this game? 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 didn't dare 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 do it until you felt satisfied. On the phone, he kept emphasizing that he'd truly studied 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 initially 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, chain-smoking, 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 genuinely 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 about this, I suddenly felt hot all over, almost unable to stand. I quickly said I had showered, just now.
Then he gestured for me to take off my clothes, and I blushed and took off my outer clothes first, revealing my transparent underwear. I noticed that he and my husband were both staring at my body. Just now I felt the air conditioning in the room was so cold, but now I wished my husband could turn it up a bit. I crawled under the sheets, not knowing where to look. I only heard my husband say in his unusually dry voice, "My wife is very ticklish, so..." The masseur first expressed his regret, and then talked about how good his technique was. In short, I didn't hear anything. At that moment, I was only thinking about where to look without being impolite. Maybe I should close my eyes? But this masseur was very polite... Hmm! If you also want to find a masseur to relax, I suggest you get a feel for his attitude over the phone first.
"Juanjuan... um! Do you mind if I wear clothes?" The masseuse hinted in a gentle tone, "The oil massage might get them dirty!" I started taking off my bra from under the sheet, and hesitated when taking off my panties... not because I was hesitant about whether I should take them off or not—since I was here and they were here, there was no reason not to. What I was thinking was that my movements would be clearly visible through the thin sheet, so how could I take them off elegantly? To be honest, even now I don't know if I took them off elegantly.
Although I was covered by a sheet, I was completely naked, and the feeling was a mix of fear, tension, and excitement. But this sheet could be lifted with just a gentle touch… My husband came over, took my underwear, kissed my cheek, and then sat down in a chair next to me, crossed his legs, and started smoking again.
At this point, the masseur also started undressing, explaining that it was an oil massage, so he had to take his clothes off too. To my relief, he wasn't completely naked; he was still wearing a small pair of underwear. I didn't intentionally pay attention, but I still caught a glimpse. His buttocks were small, and combined with his physique, they looked very powerful. As for that area… it felt bulging, not much different from my husband's.
Then he told me to turn over. I turned over, lying face down on the pillow; not having to look at him made me feel a little better. 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 enjoying it? The masseur slowly lifted the sheet. As the sheet was removed, my skin came into contact with the cold air in the room, reminding 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 cool on my skin. "You have such a great figure, such fair skin, your husband is so lucky!" The masseur's voice was very soft. His low voice made me feel like I was doing something incredibly important behind my husband's back, but the room was actually small, and I knew my husband could definitely hear me. His compliments might just be a professional habit, but hearing them felt good, and my shyness began to disappear. I've said it before, women live by their feelings.
He first massaged my shoulders, very gently, asking in my ear if it hurt, if he was using too much force. 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 began to move down, to my back. The massage on my shoulders was fine, but as it moved downwards, I started to feel itchy… I'm really ticklish, and my husband always uses this trick when I'm angry or upset. Honestly, I don't know which part of my body isn't ticklish.
Even though it tickles, I'm too embarrassed to say it; you know how women are—they're afraid of being laughed at. I think I shifted slightly, and this guy, being so perceptive, noticed even that subtle movement. He asked softly, "Does it tickle?" I gently murmured, "Mmm!" His voice was so gentle and attentive; my initial shyness almost vanished, replaced by trust, just like my trust in my husband. Of course, a large part of it was because I was lying face down; it seemed that hiding my face increased my sense of security.
His hands continued massaging, slowly moving downwards, until I chuckled when he reached my waist. He laughed too after hearing my laughter, and the tension in the room completely disappeared. It's a very special experience; when you expose your flaws and find that the other person doesn't care, the relationship immediately becomes much closer. So I told him I was ticklish, especially my waist… Talking to him was so natural, like telling my beautician what kind of hairstyle I wanted. This ease lasted only a second, because his hand left my waist and slid down to my buttocks.
He didn't rush to do anything; first, he poured some lotion on my buttocks and started massaging them. 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.
In a state of tension and anticipation, his hand left my buttocks and moved down again. On one hand, I was a little disappointed that he had given up on doing something "serious," and on the other hand, I started to worry that the ticklish nerves on my legs were too sensitive. Suddenly, he started gently massaging 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; feeling is my whole life.
Then he started kissing my legs, even stroking my cheeks while holding my insteps, 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 and kissed me, and I felt his tongue darting between my toes… It wasn't the 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 the first time we held 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're 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, and I didn't even notice his hand had moved to my crotch. When he touched my genitals, I realized how big his hand was, but also how delicate it was. He didn't directly violate my most intimate area; he just stroked back and forth between my thighs, occasionally and seemingly unintentionally touching the cleft between my buttocks before immediately moving away, almost imperceptibly. I felt my whole body relax, dissolve. This still 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 cleft, and suddenly he found my most sensitive clitoris, just lightly brushing it over. In that instant, I let out a soft "Mmm!" I knew I shouldn't have, 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 my clitoris was covered in love juice, his fingers easily gliding and teasing it. Every muscle in my body was awakened, uncontrollably arching my hips, but he remained gentle, neither impatient nor worried. The first pleasure came slowly; besides gripping the sheets tightly, I couldn't do anything. This tidal wave of pleasure wouldn't subside, not like the waves people describe, but more like a tsunami—you never know where it will end. His hands were so light, penetrating my lower body so naturally; I could hear the sound of water from my genitals, like waves crashing against rocks... I could hold back my cries, but my body wouldn't cooperate. I wanted to roll, to leap, 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 thrusts, I was helpless. I think I'm about to cry, maybe I already have... but his gentleness still won't let me go.
I didn't know I could be so wet, like a dam bursting, unstoppable. Actually, there's no need for sex, no need for any movement. Now, sitting here recalling the lewd sounds my lower body made, my heart feels like it's about to explode, and my face is as red as an apple.
Then his hand left, and suddenly I felt empty, my hand also leaving the sheets.
I think 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 is so strong, like a god, gently lifting me up and flipping me over without me even feeling it. Turning my head, I see my husband. I can't see his face clearly, but I know he saw everything that just happened. My husband is still smoking, maintaining the same sitting posture.
I don't know if it's shame or excitement, a certain emotion fills my chest. My husband is watching me being played with, and I shamelessly reach orgasm… I feel a surge of love from my husband; I know he loves me this way, loves that I let my truest self shine through. But it's difficult; I can only turn my emotions to the sheets. Only then do I realize how sore my fingers are.
He leans closer, kissing my nipples and groping them. He gently caresses my breasts, occasionally stroking my nipples. My nipples are very sensitive; every time he touches one, my whole body trembles, just like my husband trembles when he ejaculates.
His face drew closer, a simple face bearing the marks of time. I suddenly felt an urge to kiss him, but wouldn't that be foolish?
He gently nibbled at my earlobe… Oh my god! Heavy breathing filled my ear, and I felt dizzy. Like a broken doll whose soul had been ripped away, my body had vanished, leaving only the sound of his breathing, the heavy breathing… The dizziness persisted, spreading like ripples, then starting again, constantly expanding. This man 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 man 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, and waves of sensation washed over me. With the climax, my legs, which had been slightly tense, completely relaxed and opened. I leaned towards him, wanting to get closer, closer... and then I finally made a sound, beginning to moan unrestrainedly.
All shame was cast aside; all I knew was that I wanted more, more pleasure from him. I don't know if I cried "I love you," but I think I at least cried "Give it to me, give it to me again..." It wasn't because of how beautifully he licked me, but because my legs were open, I was opening my legs to welcome this man.
I was exhausted, almost breathless... He came back to my ear. The constant, intertwined pleasures, all sorts of different pleasures, with his kisses I forgot everything... 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 it recklessly, my mind only wanting to rub until he ejaculated, to ejaculate as much semen as possible.
His hand finally entered my vagina. With the movement of his fingers, I became more and more excited, and I could feel his excitement too. I was going crazy, feeling myself twisting my hips forcefully on the bed, constantly moaning and panting.
The climax came, and I arched my back, almost instantly experiencing another orgasm. I was so tired, unable to hold onto his alluring penis, and unable to arch my back any further. I was so tired, I didn't know how many orgasms I had experienced together… 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 fact, I was satisfied, although it wasn't the perfect satisfaction of penetration. But I knew that later I had my husband, and I would want him to penetrate me once or twice, and if he refused after the masseur left, I would rape him… But at this moment, my mind was filled with the image of the masseur's penis.
I knew my husband was coming, and I closed my eyes, unable to look at him. No matter what, 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 erection that had just been in my hand. This damn man was testing me, but I couldn't refuse at all, damn it, I just couldn't say no. My husband asked again, but I didn't answer. I couldn't say "yes," but I also couldn't say "no."
I don't know what my husband and the masseur did; they didn't speak, but I guessed they shook their heads or nodded. 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 masseur again, afraid I would lose control and say "yes.
" My husband returned to the bedside and started kissing me, whispering in my ear, "Juanjuan! I love you, you're so amazing!" Just then, I realized the masseur 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 would use his… God! His massive body pressed down on me, and I felt so scared.
After kissing me once more, my husband pulled away, abandoning me. I was so scared. Was this really going to happen? Was this right? He started kissing my nipples, my earlobes, and then I knew nothing more. All I knew was that his penis was rubbing against my clitoris, rubbing and rubbing. I knew I was wet, I could even feel my vagina opening, waiting, anticipating. My body was ready, and that penis I loved so much was ready too, but… I turned my head, and my husband was there, 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 afterward, and 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 is my only man. I know I love him, but I never realized how deeply I loved him. To me, my husband is far more important than everything else in the world combined.
When that person penetrated me, I could clearly feel my lower body being breached by a force, a hard, big penis just like that, inserted into my vagina. I felt a wave 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. I thought 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 that moment, a completely unfamiliar penis was freely entering and exiting my genitals—I could comfort and explain myself when fingers were inserted, but now it was a penis, capable of ejaculating semen that would make a child, the penis of 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 know when to stop. Doing half of it is enough; it's enough to reach an unprecedented peak, enough to satisfy all your fantasies.
The feeling of being penetrated by a stranger is really exhilarating, like being coerced into rape. Even though it's voluntary, it's still like rape, being forcibly penetrated. Of course, it all depends on luck, meaning whether a man who truly loves you is willing to be with you… I felt nothing, though the sound of water was still coming from my lower body, 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 cry, my husband came up behind me, gently stroking my hair and turning my head.
He looked at me for what seemed like a thousand years, without saying a word… Then he began to kiss me. I
had never kissed like that 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, and nothing else could make it feel like this. Ignoring his actions, I hugged my husband and kissed him passionately, letting him know I would never let him leave again. A strange dildo was still gently inserted into my lower body, the feeling was incredibly new!
Suddenly my husband pushed me away. I'd never seen him undress so quickly before; it was 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, swirling my tongue around the glans. I wanted it in my mouth, I wanted it to feel good, I wanted to give everything to this penis I would always love.
With my husband's penis in my mouth and another penis inserted into my lower body, I knew this was what people called a threesome. But was this really it? Because at that moment, my mind was only on my husband. Although I was starting to feel pleasure in my lower body, I thought it was all from my husband, from that penis in my mouth.
But less than a minute later, my husband pulled back, withdrawing the penis that belonged only to me from 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; I only knew I wanted his penis, wanted to eat it, 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 person would hear! He whispered, "I can't take it anymore..." The man, contrary to his previous gentleness, began to thrust harder, while my husband kissed my earlobe. Enveloped in his love, the shame I felt earlier vanished. His penetration was incredibly pleasurable, but clearly much less intense than the caresses I'd felt earlier.
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 man continued. I even wanted my husband to pay him off so the man could leave quickly, and then 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 like this. I like anything my husband likes… Right now, I really want my husband's big cock, I want him to thrust into me hard, keep thrusting until he kills me. I want it so badly, I want it right now.
I want it so badly, my husband's cock is so hard, just like that, pressing against me, filling me completely, even my heart is filled.
But my husband didn't move, he just stopped. When my husband's cock pierced into my vagina, the feeling was completely different, like a hot current flowing in, from deep inside my vagina straight to my head, my limbs and bones were all tingling and soft. I gasped, this is it… the familiar hardness without even looking, the love I could feel intuitively. My husband didn't move, and I felt satisfied without him moving. If he moved, I might reach orgasm immediately.
My heart cried out, "Honey, please move! It's so itchy inside, why won't you penetrate me?" The man then knelt before my face, gently supporting my limp head, and tenderly asked, "Is it comfortable?" I almost screamed, "Yes! Penetrate me! Please penetrate me!" I knew the reason my husband wouldn't move was because he couldn't hold on… Then the situation changed; the masseur was watching my husband and me make love, watching his hot, red penis penetrate my vagina. This was a different feeling altogether—the feeling of being watched by a stranger. This feeling made me even hotter, making me want my husband to penetrate me forcefully, without mercy.
We remained still, occasionally my husband would thrust a little, and at those moments my nerves felt like they were being burned… The man simply stroked my hair, gently touching me, doing nothing. His condom had been removed, and his penis was drooping, not as magnificent as before. It hadn't completely shrunk; the length remained the same, but it was soft, the two testicles hanging there fragilely and helplessly.
Many people think women like hard, bouncy 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 love it when my husband kisses my breasts, feeling a maternal instinct rise within me. At this moment, I felt the same way about my two drooping testicles. Although this man was strong, he had such a vulnerable spot, 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 as forcefully as before, just gently and slowly. The more I couldn't have it, the more my desire was aroused, and my heart felt like it was being weighed down by a huge stone. He began to caress my breasts, kiss my earlobe, and murmur praises of my breasts... My husband started moving, shouting as he thrust, "Eat his, Juanjuan, eat his." Although it 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 so uncomfortable. It exploded! A rainbow of colors flashed before my eyes. It was here! I knew it was here! My husband had thrust me to the very top, my very soul was being pulled out.
Yes, I wanted to eat his cock. Deep down, I screamed, "I want it! I want it!" He straightened up, his cock right in front of me, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't reach it. My body swayed during the thrusting… All I could do was grab it, but even that was difficult. I had to support myself with one hand and hold his cock with the other. It hardened rapidly in my hand, so hard, harder than all the cocks in the world combined, like a red-hot iron rod… but I couldn't reach it.
"Do you like it?" he groaned, asking me. "Do you like it?" Without hesitation, I shouted,
"I like it!" I had forgotten what shame was; I just screamed and yelled, trying to release all my desire. If I didn't scream, I would die. My husband's cock had reached the very bottom, so deep I felt like it was going to break inside.
My husband's strength increased, one climax after another. I could no longer see what I was holding; I wanted everything. I think I've gone mad.
I couldn't take it anymore, so I put down the dildo, letting it dangle in front of my eyes… It was so dark, so shiny, it was begging me to satisfy it, to make it explode, to spray me all over. I knew it; I heard that shiny dildo calling to me. As my husband thrust his dildo in and out, hitting my face, it was so beautiful. I wanted to eat it, to swallow it… I cried out, "Dick, big dildo!" The dildo was right in front of me; my husband's dildo was penetrating me. "What?" My husband yelled as if he hadn't heard me. "Dick! Big dildo!" My husband's speed increased. I knew he was going to have sex; he would fill my vagina with so much semen, flood it. The climax overwhelmed me, and a thick, hard penis was swaying before my eyes. I shouted, "It's a big penis, a really big penis! Fuck me, I want a big penis to fuck me..." In daily life, or even in my mind, I think I'm a conservative woman. Actually, I guess most women are like me, having some cute nicknames for men or their own body parts. For example, I like to call my husband's penis "penis"... Oh! When it's soft, I call it "bird." Occasionally, when I'm out, like in the market, if I hear someone swearing, I immediately feel extremely uncomfortable. I think this is a constraint that women are taught through upbringing!
It was my husband who led me into this world of lewd talk. At first, I refused, but later I reluctantly learned. At first, I got worse and worse, having to think about what to say while making love, to the point that I didn't even know where to put my legs. Until one time, my husband brought me to the brink of ecstasy. In his excitement, he urged me to scream, and suddenly, without thinking, those lewd words flowed out naturally… It's true! When you shout out those forbidden words without restraint, all rules disappear.
But, unless my husband calls me, commands me, and I happen to be in the throes of impending climax, normally, even during sex, I wouldn't think of these things that a good woman shouldn't say. I'm writing this now just to record the situation… But right now, as I type, I'm truly immersed in it, indulging myself through these words, feeling that unbridled, unrestrained pleasure. My husband pulled out at the last second, his thick, hot semen shooting onto my back like a rocket… I was so disappointed. He knew I usually take birth control pills, those birth control pills that give me headaches and make me nauseous, all because I loved him ejaculating inside me, filling me with love.
I collapsed, panting, feeling my husband gently wiping my back with a tissue, his touch tender.
That man's penis—no! A thick, hard penis lay before my eyes, still maintaining its erection… Though tired, I felt unsatisfied, a void lingering between my legs after my husband's departure. I think I've truly let go. Relying on my husband's love, I dare to do anything, and most importantly, my husband likes me to be this wanton. He wants me to discard all shame and enjoy everything I can grasp at this moment.
I reached out and began to touch it, just gently caressing it, not intentionally, but this hard, thick penis just happened to be right in front of me. I hadn't paid much attention before, but now I noticed that it was truly different from my husband's, though different, it was equally adorable. Its back was slightly thicker, especially the inverted triangular cone-shaped glans, which was particularly interesting, like a sharp spear that could pierce one's heart.
I don't know where the strength came from, but I slightly propped myself up, tilted my head back, and leaned forward to kiss his glans! I didn't dare to actually suck it, but just used my tongue to circle around his glans, gently touching it. Then I felt his glans twitch twice on my tongue, like a tiny, independent life... It was so beautiful, the most beautiful part of a man. I couldn't help but take it all in my mouth, feeling it throb within me, that most beautiful glans seeming to swell even more.
My husband lay beside me, watching me with a smile. I knew he wanted to watch me eat, and the flames of desire that had just been extinguished reignited in his eyes. So I ate even more enthusiastically, stuffing the whole thing into my mouth, pulling it out, and then putting it back in. Sometimes I held it in my hand, punishing the unruly glans with my tongue, watching it swell until it couldn't grow any larger, anticipating its bursting open and releasing millions of seeds. My husband reached out and touched my bare shoulder, and he also let out a panting sound, sighing and groaning.
"Do you like it?" my husband asked softly. I couldn't answer, yet I didn't want to spit it out, so I could only nod while holding it in, silently chanting, "I love it! I love it!" His testicles were so soft; I could feel what was inside that fleshy sac—that was what I wanted, the source of a man's allure.
Everything before me was consuming me, my heart itching, so itchy. "Do you want to fuck him? I want you to fuck him, fuck him to death!" My husband breathed in my ear, his warm breath driving me crazy, the madness starting from my genitals.
I wanted it, of course I wanted it, I wanted to use my own penis to fuck this incredibly thick rod to death! Fuck this unruly rod to death. I spat out the rod, pushed him down, I couldn't wait even a second longer, that empty feeling in my vagina needed to be filled with a rod, and then I eagerly mounted him… I first grabbed that throbbing rod, looked at my husband, and he was smiling at me as I sat down. This time, I didn't use a condom because my mind was completely blank except for that huge penis.
It was so full, so incredibly full, like the thickest, biggest penis in the world was about to pierce my stomach. I screamed, wildly thrusting up and down, using every last bit of my strength. I lifted my hips, then slammed them down, each time penetrating deep inside me, hitting my chest. I never knew sex could feel so good. I loved it, wishing the world would stop, wishing the end of the world would come… Then an orgasm surged from my genitals, knocking me down. I lay on top of him, panting, panting uncontrollably… It was so wet; I was practically sitting on a huge puddle of sticky love juice and semen, my pubic hair mingling with his.
His limp penis slid out from my wetness. Although I wanted to grab it back, I was already satisfied, I couldn't take any more, any more and I would die. I trembled, the uncontrollable tide surging inside me, I couldn't stop shaking. I dragged myself forward and kissed him, cupping his face and searching for the soul of this stranger. I found myself captivated by his penis.
The tongue that had just licked my genitals was now darting in my mouth like a little snake. I hugged him tightly, wanting to bury myself completely in his body. His broad chest made me want to curl up in his arms and never leave.
He didn't let me go, lifting me up and laying me flat on my back. Before him, I felt as helpless as a straw. I spread my legs wide, to my absolute limit, waiting for him to come and fuck me with that big penis, to fuck me to death. I screamed when he entered me, I yelled! Oh! I thrust my hips towards him, the sound of our bodies colliding almost drowning out the entire room. I wanted him to fuck me, to fuck me hard, without any mercy.
He kept thrusting into me, grabbing my legs, exposing my entire genitals. I loved it. I wanted to give him my most precious place, to let him see it clearly. My BB was right there, he could do whatever he wanted with me, I just wanted him to fuck me hard. He thrust so hard, all I knew was that I was swaying my upper body from side to side, I wanted freedom, I wanted that freedom I'd never had before. I thought the sex had reached its limit, but it hadn't, another orgasm came, again and again.
I screamed, "Fuck me, please!" It was the only plea I could make, the only thing I wanted.
Then he sped up, his whole cock seemed to be inside me, and I felt his rod throbbing inside me. I knew he'd ejaculated, all inside me. I grabbed his neck, wanting him to press down on me, wanting his semen to melt inside me, wanting his horde to surge within me.
He leaned against the headboard, and I sat in his lap, still playing with my little bird. My husband sat opposite us… We were tired, everyone was tired, and it was all over. Now we were smiling at each other.
"Jealous?" I asked my husband, looking him straight in the eye, as I sat on him. "Look at him, I really like him, I like having him inside me."
"No!" My husband's smile vanished, replaced by a serious expression. "I want you to be happy, to be crazy, to have everything. Otherwise, why did you marry me?" His erection returned. I turned around, kissed him, and then lifted my hips, hugging his strong neck.
Half-squatting, I took his hard glans into my wet vagina, my juices flowing again, coursing through my heart, the glans throbbing inside me. I turned back to my husband and asked, "So, how about this?" My husband smiled and nodded… I suddenly sat down, letting the entire penis penetrate me. I paused for a while, until I managed to control my emotions. I slowly leaned back into my husband's arms and said, "There's someone else's big dick inside my pussy! It's so big, it's so itchy inside, I want him to fuck me, let his big dick be inside me so you can see, okay... Will you kiss me?
I want you to kiss me!" His dick was inside me, so deep, and I almost frowned as I said this.
"I like it when someone else fucks you, just because you like it!" My husband kissed me, and I lay in his arms, my legs draped over the man's shoulders, watching his dick thrusting in and out of my pussy with my husband.
My husband was outside alone, and I was in the bathroom with the masseur. He was carefully washing every inch of my skin with the showerhead. As he knelt on the floor touching my thighs, a touch of sadness rose up... It was time to part, he was leaving. I helped him up, and I searched his body, trying to find some evidence to remember him by. His dick was pressed against my lower abdomen, so warm and comfortable.
I knelt on the floor, sucking his penis, swallowing it all the way down my throat, the shower water spraying over my back. The bathroom was separated by frosted glass; though not transparent, I could probably see my reflection… Perhaps my husband knew what I was doing, perhaps not, but this was my first affair.
It was true, I really wanted to make love to him alone, in the most private setting, without anyone disturbing us. “Just one more time, please? Just one more time!” I pleaded, tilting my head back.
He lifted me up, suspending me in mid-air, his entire penis inside me. My legs were tightly wrapped around his waist, my arms around his neck. I should have felt fear, but I didn't; I just leaned on his broad shoulders… and then I cried. I didn't make a sound, silently enduring the pleasure, accepting the end of an extraordinary encounter, reaching orgasm almost immediately. It was ridiculous, but I truly believed I could make him remember me this way, this ordinary woman who had once clung to him.
As he was about to leave after taking the money, I asked for his contact information. He then took out a pen and said he wanted to write his phone number on my thigh. So I lifted my skirt, revealing the thigh he had just touched. After he left, my husband and I did it again. I quietly told my husband that I had arranged for my sister to pick up our son, so we could stay there as long as we wanted. In fact, we didn't leave the hotel until the next day, and I've forgotten how many times we came that day.
Afterwards, I went to see that masseur several more times alone.
I still felt itchy in the places that were supposed to be itchy, and I was still aroused in the places that were supposed to be aroused. I arched my back and let him caress me. I felt that this man was not only stronger than my husband, but his tongue was also more skillful when licking my genitals, and he was more patient when caressing me. Many of his delicate touches moved me, and I felt happiness in each orgasm.

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