Filial Piety of the Wife (Part 12)

Chapter 12 Trials
It's a basic principle that younger people are more receptive to new things; conversely, the older one gets, the harder it becomes to accept new things.
Some new things are progressive, while others are not. Our current approach, for example, goes against current moral norms and ethical considerations.
My wife's actions, whether planned or unplanned, are also illogical.
If we didn't believe we had reasonable grounds, prioritizing filial piety above all else, we wouldn't have accepted this. Even now, having influenced my wife's change and driven the situation forward, even though she was moved by my filial piety and my father's love, and uttered those firm words, if this had actually happened now, we probably still wouldn't be completely at ease.
As for my father, an elderly man who has worked in manual labor for many years, he only recently embraced new things and learned new knowledge, making great progress by learning computers, online journaling, and even chat tools. However, when it comes to moral and ethical matters, his bottom line is very clear, and his sense of right and wrong is unambiguous. How to cross this line and get him to accept it is not something that can be done overnight; it requires a relatively long-term process. We need to ensure that Father doesn't become overly agitated or even cause conflict with us, while subtly guiding him or pushing him forward with measured steps. We need to prepare him physically and also cultivate his psychological desire, making him willing to accept this method of fulfilling his desires.
An hour after Father went offline, Lili and I both felt uneasy about him going out. He was preoccupied, and his foot injury had just healed, so we needed to call and check on him.
We discussed that one of us would call Father to see if anything was wrong.
Usually, I call Father more often, and Lili calls occasionally, but today I thought it should be Lili who calls.
Regardless of who calls, Father will definitely feel awkward, but if Lili calls, it will have the effect of making it seem as if nothing happened. The more normal Lili acts, the more Father will believe that the exposure, the nudity, the nipples, the bathing, and the midday breast bump were all coincidences. This way, the father could temporarily believe that he was overthinking things, and we could gradually make him appreciate his daughter-in-law's seduction, thus arousing his desire. Then, we could subtly make him realize our true purpose, achieving the final effect. Haste makes waste.
Li Li must have felt very embarrassed, after all, she had seduced her father-in-law so many times, and she had even helped him analyze and recognize that she was seducing him. She was already afraid of awkwardness and didn't want to meet him, and would try to speak as little as possible when they did meet. But then she felt that my analysis made sense, so she agreed.
I waited for Li Li's reply, but five minutes passed, ten minutes passed, and Li Li still hadn't replied. Was she busy and hadn't had time to reply to my message?
So I called her, and Li Li answered, knowing what I wanted to ask.
Li Li hadn't even called yet, and didn't know how to say it.
Actually, some things are like this; theory and action are vastly different. Even a simple phone call is like this, let alone accomplishing our seemingly impossible task.
However, I was still worried about my father going out like that, so I asked Lili to ask him if he needed anything or any groceries. We could bring them to him that evening and also ask if his foot was still hurting and if he could move around easily. If we asked that, he would naturally say, "Yes, I'm taking a walk there now!" Lili agreed, and after hanging up, I waited about ten minutes before receiving a message from her. She said that my father said we didn't need to come this afternoon; he was having dinner with some friends and was now taking a walk in the park. His foot was almost healed and he didn't feel anything anymore.
We were relieved. Then, we were unsure what to do next. After
discussing it, we decided to hold off for now, since my father didn't live at home and we wouldn't have many opportunities to talk.
There wasn't much to do in the afternoon, and we were all busy with our own things. When I got home in the evening, I hung up the phone and saw that my father wasn't home; he must still be eating.
So, I played with the children. The best thing about having children is that looking at their innocent and carefree nature makes all my worries disappear.
We bathed the child together, put him to bed, and then showered and went to bed ourselves. We found my father was online, but hadn't greeted us. He was probably still struggling with his thoughts, afraid the "mischievous young couple" would ask for his final decision.
We didn't want to pressure him too much, afraid of upsetting him, so we waited, and while we waited, we checked his diary.
I discovered he had posted a new entry ten minutes earlier.
“Life is beautiful, and my children have happy lives, especially with the arrival of my grandson, which makes their lives even more perfect and my later years even happier.
A lot has happened these past few days that I didn't expect, and that I can't let go of right now; those scenes seem to be right before my eyes. When I see those things, I don't know if it's desire or restlessness, but what's clear is that my heart can't find peace. That young couple I chatted with online, however, opened up another world for me. They showed me that such a life exists. Their explanation was unexpected, and I can't accept it right now; I'm even afraid it might be. What
I need to do now is see these things as coincidences, as expressions of uninhibited affection from close relatives, and as proof that we are family. I must constantly remind myself not to overthink things.”
My wife also saw this, and it seems my father still can't accept our thoughts; he still sees our hints as normal coincidences.
If we put ourselves in his shoes, we probably would have the same result.
So, I asked Lili to talk to her father again, not about this topic, but about everyday things, the bittersweet memories of the past. I felt there wasn't much substance to it, and the things her father talked about were things I already knew. Moreover, when he talked about me, it was mostly guilt and pride.
So, I went to play on my phone, while Lili enjoyed chatting with her father, sometimes laughing, sometimes a little worried. These kinds of conversations have become rare since we got married, like when we were dating.
I started to realize something: my wife and father's relationship might really be warming up. My wife already liked him, although it was the kind of liking one has for an elder or relative. But as they get to know each other better, I believe that liking could change. If it does change, and they have that one thing happen, will something like what happens in novels? It's not impossible, but I think, firstly, my father won't destroy my family, because his motivation in life is my growth and happiness; secondly, my wife's love for me—all these years of everyday life, and now she's willing to give her body for me, proving how great her love is.
On the other hand, there's a positive side. Like I talked to my wife the other day, I genuinely want them to like each other more, even fall in love. That way, my father could have a truly genuine love affair in his life, making his life complete. My wife would also be happier, having two men love her. Moreover, with mutual love, the likelihood of sex is greater, and the chances of sexual satisfaction are higher. And if we could truly achieve this, with each other in love, our future life would be even more perfect.
Suddenly, I realized that if this idea came to fruition, it would be absolutely perfect. It turns out I'm a perfectionist.
But thinking about all this still brought a pang of sadness. Firstly, his wife might have fallen in love with another man, which, for a man, meant sharing—sharing love is a huge sacrifice. Secondly, his wife was going to have sex with another man, even if it was his own father. The Bible says woman was a rib from man, meaning it was flesh of his own flesh; sharing one's own flesh with another was also a great sacrifice. Thinking about it, a sour feeling welled up inside him.
So, he sat behind his wife, hugged her from the abdomen, and watched her happily type on the keyboard, watching the messages on the screen. The sour feeling grew stronger.
He wanted to possess his wife one more time, even though he could have her all to himself for a long time—it wasn't something that could be done immediately—but he just wanted to possess her a few more times.
With that thought in his mind, his body began to move. He slowly stroked her abdomen, easily climbing up to her large breasts—a full cup size, which even his hand couldn't completely cover, even through her silk pajamas. The silk made them feel even smoother.
His wife noticed his actions and asked what he was doing. He said, "Guess?" My wife understood that I wanted to have sex with her, but she didn't understand why I let her chat with my father while she was talking, and then bothered her.
I told my wife the truth: since my wife and I were openly talking and doing things to seduce my father, what was there to hide? After hearing my explanation, my wife chuckled and said, "Okay, I'll tell Dad I have something to do, we'll talk later."
But I made her continue chatting while we were having sex, not letting her stop.
She looked at me first, then understood what I was thinking. This was a form of stimulation, even though my father wasn't watching us.
But after all, it was my father, my wife's father-in-law, who was chatting with us, and we were about to have naked, intimate intercourse while chatting with my father. This kind of stimulation was the most psychologically stimulating for my wife.
My wife's face turned red again, and her heartbeat accelerated noticeably. Because my hand was still on her breast, I could feel her heart racing and her breathing becoming more rapid. I believed that within two minutes, my wife would secrete fluid without me needing to stimulate her, because psychological stimulation could trigger a greater physical reaction.
My hands kneaded her breasts, I rested my head on her shoulder, and breathed into her ear. Because the area behind my wife's ears is very sensitive, she seemed ticklish and tried to resist, stopping her typing. My father had already typed several lines.
So, I whispered in her ear, "Dad's waiting for your reply! Don't keep him waiting."
My wife said weakly, "You're so naughty. How can I type like this?"
I said, "I didn't mean that to you. I just wanted you to chat with Dad while I touched your breasts."
Hearing me say this, it was clear I was trying to provoke her. It did sound very arousing, but she said, "Don't say that, it's embarrassing."
I said, "I'm not making this up. If you ignore Dad, he'll worry."
So, my wife started typing, her body writhing, either enjoying or resisting my caresses.
I didn't pay attention to what they were talking about, because my current goal was more about arousing her than provoke her. Like in other novels, there was a sense of humiliation.
While arousing my wife, I found myself feeling the same way. I was being intimate with her, and she was chatting with her father. Although not face-to-face, it was undeniably ethical, yet incredibly stimulating. My erection hardened as I stared at her.
I pulled her tank top down, exposing her breasts. Even though she was facing the computer screen, not in a video, she immediately covered them, as if afraid the person on the other end would see. It was as if the words on the screen represented her father. The more she acted this way, the more aroused I became, and the more I wanted to stimulate her, both physically and verbally.
I said and did what she feared.
I whispered in her ear, "Honey, Dad's not on the other side, he's on the other side of the computer. Put your hands down, can he see?"
She didn't say anything, only uttering, "Mmm, no."
I used my hand to pull her hand down. She turned her head away, afraid to look at the screen, but her hand still resisted, not wanting me to take it away. I continued to whisper in her ear as I lowered her hand and placed it on the keyboard.
My wife closed her eyes.
I said, "Open your eyes, type, don't keep Dad waiting."
My wife took a few deep breaths, then looked intently at the computer screen, but it seemed she couldn't see clearly. She had to read each sentence several times, and typing was also very difficult for her.
Regardless of whether she could type, I continued to stroke her breasts, kneading them vigorously, and then whispered in her ear, "Your breasts seem to have gotten bigger again. Is it because the baby is nursing? I'll nurse more often too, to make them even bigger. So Dad will be more satisfied!"
My wife's breathing became heavier and heavier, and she said, "Stop talking, are you going to let me type or not?"
She knew I wouldn't pay attention to her.
While kneading her breasts with one hand, the other hand reached down to my wife's genitals. Because we like to sleep naked, my wife had taken off her genitals while showering. So I directly touched my wife's pubic hair. As soon as I touched it, my wife said, "No!" and her body tensed up, but of course I wouldn't stop.
I stretched my legs out in front of her, pressing my penis against her buttocks, then spread her legs apart. She tried to resist, but I held her down with my feet. She ended up like this, her genitals and breasts facing the computer screen, a small tank top around her waist.
She seemed unable to type, breathing heavily, as if she'd been penetrated hundreds of times.
I whispered in her ear, "Honey, look, Dad's waiting for you!" Of course, I was referring to the computer, but we both knew I was doing it on purpose, making her feel more and more that her father was right there.
She said, embarrassed, "Honey, let's make love. I need to turn off the computer."
In the past, if my wife had said something so explicit, saying she wanted to make love, I would have pounced on her like a hungry wolf. But today, although I desperately wanted to penetrate her right now, I knew I had to continue humiliating her, to toughen her up.
I said, "Don't turn it off. Dad really needs someone to talk to right now. He's so lonely living alone. Nobody talks to him. You can't give him sex right now, but at least you have to talk to him."
My wife said, "I don't care anymore, but please stop mentioning Dad, okay? It's so embarrassing! Ahh! No!"
As she spoke, one of my fingers was already inserted into her vagina. There was no warning, no waiting, because it was already very wet.
My wife almost climbed onto the computer. With her legs spread wide, her genitals completely exposed, and her breasts exposed, and she was chatting with her father-in-law, it felt like her position was being watched by him. The stimulation and humiliation she felt made her vagina contract very strongly. I thrust a few dozen times, and she orgasmed and ejaculated, soaking the sheets.
I thought I would let her go, but she was wrong. I was going to continue stimulating her.
I told her, "Dad, wait, hurry up and type."
My wife said, "Honey, please, I'm exhausted. Just now... I really can't take it anymore, let me turn off the computer."
Of course, I said, "No, right now Dad needs someone to talk to. Either you tell him you want to have sex with me, and we'll do it later, or you can continue chatting."
This left my wife with no choice. Although she had agreed to have physical relations with her father-in-law, and although he had seen her figure and even her breasts, she couldn't bring herself to say "we'll have sex" to him, at least not at this stage. Even though she wasn't herself, she knew the nature of her relationship with the person on the other end.
So she didn't say she'd do it later, but instead replied to her father's messages.
As for me, while that excited my wife, I was incredibly excited too. My wife was chatting with her father, albeit online, and I was showing her breasts and genitals, even inserting my hand into her vagina. It really felt like doing it right in front of my father.
My penis was throbbing and hard from the stimulation.
I had my wife lie face down, propping her chest up with a backrest and pillows so she could look at the computer screen and type, then raising her buttocks.
Holding her buttocks, I thrust into her vagina, accompanied by her cries of "Ah, no! Don't do this!" She kept pleasing, but
I ignored her cries and continued thrusting, saying, "Hurry up and type, don't keep Dad waiting. While I'm fucking you, don't just stand there, keep Dad company."
My voice trembled as I said these words. Although I was the director, I couldn't be a bystander; I was a participant, a victim of humiliation just like my wife. Her cries grew louder and louder. Typing while I was inside her was already difficult, and the added humiliation made it impossible for her to see or hear what her father was asking or saying.
Although we had tried many stimulating sexual practices before, this was the first time I'd experienced such humiliation, this feeling of being watched by my father during sex. Both my wife and I were incredibly excited.
Humiliation and stimulation are sometimes inseparable, with no clear boundary.
At this moment, the sounds of flesh colliding, my wife's moans, and my panting rose and fell, occasionally punctuated by the clatter of a keyboard.
I don't know if it was to stimulate my wife or myself, but I said, "Wife, tell Dad, are we having sex? Tell Dad that you're naked, lying in front of the computer, and I'm penetrating you from behind?"
My wife said, "No, I can't say that! Dad will see! Dad will see! No!"
But I clearly heard the sound of typing. Could it be that with this thrusting and the trembling of her body, my wife could still type?
Just like the first time I made my wife call me "Dad," this time it brought an unprecedented thrill, along with frenzied thrusting and a rapid orgasm. I ejaculated first, and my wife, brought to orgasm by my hard thrusting and the hot semen, then collapsed onto the computer.
I lay on top of my wife, and she was hunched over the computer. A few minutes passed, and when I opened my eyes, I saw several strings of random words we had typed on the computer screen, along with two question marks from my father.

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Filial Piety of the Wife (Part 12)

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