My wife is going to be another man's woman today.

After years of influence, my wife is no longer as shy as before. As time flies, she's chosen to embrace a more adventurous lifestyle and seek thrills. A man she'd been chatting with online for two years recently came to our city for studies. He texted her, inviting her out. She wouldn't have agreed before, but after so much persuasion, it's starting to work. She dressed up early and left home. The scene I'd been anticipating was about to unfold in a hotel. A deep-seated bitterness tormented me, yet my lower body throbbed with a desire to release. It was like the gloomy sky—oppressive, yet punctuated by slivers of sunlight. Perhaps that's why I like it. I always encourage my wife, saying that women can only truly open their hearts to their lovers. With their husbands, they always hide their wilder side, just as men hide some of their desires from their wives. Only when two people truly open up can they achieve true harmony. Years of living together have erased the initial passion; only occasionally, when I recall our wanton moments, do I feel that spark again. Helping my wife understand is also helping myself understand. I had dinner and showered, but my wife hadn't returned home yet. My heart was racing with anxiety and restlessness. The door opened, and my wife entered, wearing high heels. She gently took off her shoes and placed them aside, then slowly walked to my side and leaned lightly on my shoulder. Quietly, without saying a word. I embraced her soft shoulders and kissed her lips tightly. Remembering what she had kissed me not long ago, my tongue involuntarily licked hers, and she responded passionately. My hands slid down her soft breasts, across her lower abdomen, through the dark forest after the rain, and into the misty valley. She pushed me away, saying, "I was in a hurry to get back, I haven't showered yet, I'm dirty, I'll go wash up." Excitement made my whole body tremble. I couldn't wait to pick her up and carry her into the bedroom, gently placing her on the bed. I kissed her small, delicate earlobe and whispered, "It's not dirty, you're always the purest." I gently kissed her slender neck, her breasts, her lower abdomen, her pubic hair, her inner thighs, and finally, her vulva. She was panting heavily, one hand caressing her breasts, the other holding my head, pressing me hard against the gurgling stream. Passion burned within me, and looking at the now clear cliff face, a wave of shame washed over me. I licked it lightly with my tongue, my mouth filled with a sweet, metallic taste that made my mind go blank. I sucked wildly, our passion burning, melting into each other. I don't know how long it lasted, but we fell asleep in each other's arms. The next morning, I got up and bought breakfast, listening to her tell me what had happened the day before. Nothing more than shopping, watching a movie, and eating. There was just a little incident. My wife had gone to the date wearing black stockings and a thong. During the movie, that guy mischievously pulled off her stockings and panties, so she was completely naked during the meal and shopping afterwards. She inexplicably didn't refuse. It was something neither of us dared to imagine. When we got to the hotel, we quickly showered and went straight to the battlefield. I brought a raincoat, but he said it was uncomfortable and he didn't like wearing it. My wife wanted to bring it back for me to see if I'd get jealous, so she brought it back. Luckily, since I wasn't wearing underwear, most of it leaked out. The rest was just sex, nothing special. She just told me that it felt strange with him since he wasn't her husband, but it was very passionate, and the psychological stimulation was stronger than the physical. She said it wasn't as good as with me.

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My wife is going to be another man's woman today.

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