Performing erotic massage in front of her husband

I'm Juanjuan, and about six months ago, I went along with my husband and got a massage
—the kind with erotic elements.
We've been married for almost four years, and our sex life is pretty good… well, "good" is hard to define. Basically, I
enjoy having sex with him; I don't experience the "fever-reducing" or "boredom" that experts talk about.
The reason I went for the massage was because my husband loves browsing porn sites and, after seeing some wife-swapping stories,
he'd tease me in bed. It's just for fun, and 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 don't have any taboos.
We watch porn, and during sex, we use 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 was very excited, but
as a woman, I knew perfectly well whether those stories were true or false.
Anyway, after a while, my husband actually created a QQ account and posted a thread online soliciting
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 these kinds of messy things. My husband said it was just for fun! Who says you
have to agree to something? Unexpectedly, there were a lot of respondents, 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 also found myself getting excited very easily. To be honest, even my husband admits that it's not
as simple as depicted in erotic novels... I can believe in extramarital affairs to some extent, but to casually engage in partner swapping
or group sex—is it really that easy to choose a complete stranger based on just a few words on QQ?
Who has the guts? Aside from looks, weight, and everything else, what if the other person blackmails you
afterwards? And what about your friends? Please, do you even want to live with yourself?
One day in bed, my husband mysteriously suggested, "How about we go get a massage?" He'd
heard it from a chat friend. A few shady men in conversation all say they heard it from others; who knows if it's true? I didn't pay him any attention
at the time , and he forgets about it quickly once the excitement is over... But this time
, my husband kept bringing it up, saying it's just a massage, it doesn't necessarily mean anything will happen.
I think it's also because of safety; safety is always a woman's first priority. With my husband by my side, the masseuse
being a paid hire, and the hotel registration being convenient… most importantly, I can't bring myself to
actually have sex with another man. Fantasizing is fine, having the thought occasionally is okay, but in real life, it's practically suicide.
Since my husband keeps pestering me, I'm also tempted to try something new.
Actually, every woman has this 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 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 reach unprecedented levels of fervor for six months, but
that was just a brief interlude, like you can't just pull the actors out of an adult film…
I remember that massage vividly; although it was hard to accept, it was actually very stimulating. At first, I felt
guilty , thinking about a strange man in front of my husband… that feeling afterwards. But because my husband
didn't care at all, and instead, every time we had sex afterwards, I pretended to be that masseuse, the stimulation was even greater than the massage itself
. So, if your husband is open-minded enough, I suggest you give it a try, just a half-service, nothing
should be forced.
I didn't refuse, and then my husband ran to the living room to get 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 a massage therapist was enough to make me half dead, how could I
have the energy to care about this game? In the end, my husband chose a "genuine fatigue-relieving oil massage male therapist"... I agreed;
he seemed pretty respectable, at least my impression of him was that he was quite respectable.
On the phone, I heard my husband asking if the afternoon was okay, then asking about the time of each session, the price, whether he also
massaged men, etc. In the end, my husband even asked if the guy did the full service. I was anxious to stop
my husband 's nonsense, but I didn't want to say anything... It seemed like the other person hesitated for a moment, and I didn't know
what he said to my husband.
After hanging up the phone, I got angry. My husband explained gently that he just wanted to confirm if the masseur offered
a half-service massage, because the advertisement was so overly serious… Since I had finally agreed, he didn't want to encounter a
real "authentic fatigue-relieving oil massage" male masseur. Okay! Although it felt embarrassing, my husband liked it anyway,
and—to be honest—I had a strange urge to try the pleasure offered by other men.
My husband said this guy was quite expensive, so expensive it hurt his heart, and then he smiled ambiguously and said, "With such a high price, he
might really have some skills!" This masseur didn't charge per session; he would do it until you felt satisfied.
On the phone, he kept emphasizing that he had truly studied in Japan and that his massage skills were top-notch. When my husband asked
if he offered a full service, the man hesitated for a long time, then said that these things depend on the feeling! If my wife
feels 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 the man called back to the hotel room to confirm. I first sat on the bed, but then thought it wouldn't be good to mess it up,
so I sat on a chair instead. My mind was in such a turmoil that I couldn't think straight and 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 , 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 stand more naturally, forcing a smile... The masseur's voice was very soft, he gently asked me
what should call him, and I asked him to answer for me, saying, "Just call her Juanjuan!"
He was carrying a bag that looked like a briefcase, and then took out a bottle of something I couldn't tell what it was,
and then 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 had to face 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 showered, just now.
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. I had just felt the air conditioning in the room
was so cold, and now I wished my husband could turn it up a bit. I burrowed under the sheets, unsure 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, then went on to talk about his technique. I
didn't hear a word he said. At that moment, 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 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 take off my clothes?" the masseuse asked in a gentle voice, hinting, "The oil massage
will get them dirty!"
I started taking off my bra from under the sheet, and hesitated when taking off my underwear... not because I was hesitant about whether I
should take them off, since I was already 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 elegantly? To be honest, even now I don't know
if I took them off elegantly.
Although I was covered by the sheet, I was completely naked, and I felt a mix of fear, nervousness, and excitement. But this
sheet only needed to be lifted slightly... 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. He explained 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 underwear. I didn't intentionally pay attention, but I still caught
a glimpse . His buttocks were small, and they looked very powerful in combination with his body. As for that place… it felt swollen,
not much different from my husband’s.
Then he told me to turn over. I turned over and pressed my face against 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 cold 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 incredible behind my husband’s back
, but actually the room was small, and I knew my husband could definitely hear me. His praise might just be
a professional habit, but it felt good to hear, and my shyness began to disappear. I’ve said it before, women
live by their feelings.
He started by massaging my shoulders, very gently, and while massaging, he whispered in my ear if it hurt or if he was
using too much force. My tension 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 was relaxing, the masseur's hands moved down to my back. The massage on my shoulders
was fine , but as it moved down, I started to feel ticklish... I'm really ticklish, and 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.
Even though it tickles, I'm too embarrassed to say it; you know, women are afraid of being laughed at. I think I shifted my body slightly, and
this man, being experienced, noticed even that slight movement. He asked me softly, "Does it tickle?" I
gently murmured, "Mmm!" His voice was so gentle, and so attentive. My initial shyness almost
disappeared, leaving only 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 hand continued to massage and slowly moved down, until it reached my waist, at which point I chuckled.
He laughed when he heard me laugh, and the tension in the room vanished. It was a very special
experience; when you expose your flaws and find that the other person doesn't care, the relationship
immediately much closer. So I told him I was ticklish, especially my waist… Talking to him felt natural
, like telling my hairstylist what kind of hairstyle I wanted. This ease lasted only
a second , because his hand left my waist and slid to my buttocks.
He didn't rush to do anything; first, he poured some lotion on my buttocks and started massaging. Several
times I felt he was about to touch my genitals, so close, but as if he had
accidentally , 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 downwards. On one hand, I
was a little disappointed that he'd given up on getting to what seemed like "serious business," and on the other hand, I started to worry about the sensitive itching in my legs.
Suddenly, he began to gently massage my feet and said, "Your legs are so beautiful, so white and slender, so beautiful..."
I knew he meant it, at least I felt it; that feeling was my whole life.
Then he started kissing my legs, and even stroked his cheek while holding my instep, as if he'd discovered something most beautiful in the world.
A beautiful treasure… 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. 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 had 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 . 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 large his hands were, yet so delicate. He didn't
directly violate my most intimate area, but instead stroked back and forth between my thighs, occasionally brushing against my cleft and then
immediately moving away, almost imperceptibly. I felt my whole body relax, dissolve. It 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 cried out, but I felt like a small boat that had been drifting 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, and his
fingers easily slid and teased 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 was helpless. This surging 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 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 the pressure, 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; it was 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 genitals made,
my heart feels like it's about to explode, and my face turns as red as an apple.
Then his hand left, and suddenly I felt a void, my hands leaving the sheets.
If it weren't for the sheets I was holding onto, I would have screamed with all my might.
He turned me around; he was incredibly strong, like a god,
gently . Turning my head, I saw my husband. I couldn't see his face clearly, but I knew
he had seen everything. He was still sitting there, cigarette dangling from his lips.
A feeling of shame or excitement filled my chest. My man was watching me being
played with, and I was shamelessly reaching orgasm… I felt a surge of love from him; I knew he loved
me this way, loved me letting my truest self shine through. But it was difficult. I could only turn my attention to
the sheets , and then I realized my fingers were so sore.
He leaned closer, kissing my nipples, groping them. He gently stroked my
breasts , occasionally lightly caressing my nipples. My nipples were very sensitive; each time he touched one, my
whole body trembled, just like my husband's when he ejaculated.
His face drew closer, a simple face bearing the marks of hardship. 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 ears, and I felt
dizzy. Like a broken doll whose soul had been rippled out, my body had vanished, leaving only 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 whispered in my ear. Uncontrollably, I blurted out, "I like it!" I think I
still retained a sliver of rationality. If this person were my husband, I would have hugged him tightly and shouted, "I
love you!"
I could feel his genitals rubbing against my waist, very hard… I think he did it on purpose, perhaps he wanted
me to… Just then, he reached for my genitals with one hand and gently stroked my hair with the other, saying, "You're so beautiful,
really so beautiful… Has anyone told you you're beautiful?"
Then the hand that was stroking my hair left, and he gently took my hand and touched his genitals
through my small underwear. I was probably startled! This was the first time I had ever touched
the genitals of a man other than my husband. I woke up from all my dreams and immediately withdrew my hand. He didn't force me; he moved
away , gently pushed my legs apart, and began kissing my genitals.
It was a fusion of shame and pleasure. I tried to pull my legs back slightly, keeping
them , but he gently pushed them completely apart again, leaving my genitals exposed
to a stranger. His tongue swirled around my clitoris, while waves of sensation washed over me.
With I opened them wide, reaching out to him, wanting 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, 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 me, give me more…" It really wasn't because…
It wasn't the beauty of his licking that mattered, but rather the fact that my legs were open, welcoming this man.
I was exhausted, almost breathless… He whispered in my ear again. The intertwined pleasures,
various sensations, made me forget everything with his kisses… I don't know why I reached out and
pulled his penis from his underwear.
At first, I just gently touched it, feeling its hardness, its throbbing, its thickness.
Slowly , I became frantic, rubbing it recklessly, my mind only focused on making him ejaculate, ejaculating
lots and lots of semen.
His hand finally entered my vagina. With each movement of his fingers, I became more and more excited, and
I could feel his excitement too. I was going crazy, feeling myself violently twisting my hips on the bed, constantly
moaning and panting.
An orgasm came; I arched my back, almost instantly experiencing another climax. I was so tired, unable to hold his
alluring penis, and unable to arch my back anymore. I'm so tired. I don't know how many orgasms I've had together...
I want to kiss him, but I can't, I know I can't.
It seems like time's up, or maybe he thinks I've had enough. In fact, I am satisfied, though
not with penetration. But I know that later I have a husband, and I'll want him to penetrate me once or twice
. After this masseur leaves, if my husband refuses, I'll rape him... But right now,
all is the masseur's penis.
I know my husband is coming. I close my eyes, afraid to look at him. No matter what, I've done
so . My husband looks down and asks if I want the full service... I don't know. I know I should say no,
but damn it, all I can think about is that hard thing I just held in my hand. This damn man is testing me,
but I can't refuse. Damn it, I just can't say no. My husband asks again. I don't answer,
because I can't say yes, but I can'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 nodding
or shaking their heads. 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 and started kissing me, whispering 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 unopened for him, 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, my husband pulled away, abandoning me. I was so scared. Was this really going to happen?
Was this right? He started kissing my nipples, kissing 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, anticipating. My body was ready, and so was that penis I loved so much. 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 of
my first time with my husband, and of what would happen afterward, and of what would happen afterward. I only know that in that
instant, everything about my husband and me flashed through my mind like lightning, so clear,
so captivating. I loved him so much; he was my only man. I knew I loved him, but I never realized
how deeply I loved him. To me, my husband was 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 , 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 are no excuses. I've lost my virginity. Right now, a completely unfamiliar penis is freely entering and exiting my
genitals —I can comfort and explain myself when fingers are inserted, but this is a
penis, capable of ejaculating semen that could give birth, 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 die of old age.
That's why I advise those who want to try it to know when to stop. Doing half a round is enough; it's enough to
reach unprecedented heights, enough to 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, that is, whether there's a
man who truly loves you willing to be with you… I feel nothing, although the sound of water is still coming from my genitals, and I can feel that
penis I was just 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.
He gazed at me for what seemed like an eternity, without saying a word… and then he began to kiss me. I
had never kissed like that before; it felt like a separation of life and death. 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 do this. Ignoring his actions, I hugged my husband and kissed him passionately, wanting him
to know that I would never let him leave again. A strange penis was still gently inserted into my lower body; the 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,
swirling . 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 real? Because at that moment, my mind was only on my husband. Although I started to feel pleasure in my lower body, I believed
it was all from my husband, from that penis in my mouth.
But less than a minute later, my husband pulled back, withdrawing his penis—which was meant for me alone—from my mouth
. My instinctive reaction was to reach for it, but he took a step back. I didn't know anything else; all I knew
was that I wanted his penis, wanted to eat it, wanted it to stay in my mouth forever. Tears welled up in my eyes.
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 the other person would hear! He whispered, "I can't take it anymore..."
The other person, 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. However, his penetration was incredibly pleasurable, very pleasurable, but clearly much less enjoyable than the caresses
he had given me .
They both left me almost simultaneously. I barely noticed him pulling his penis out; I only realized
my husband was gone. Disappointment enveloped me, like suddenly having to answer a phone call halfway through
sex . My disappointment stemmed from my husband's decision to stop kissing my earlobe. It had nothing to do with whether that man continued to penetrate 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 him and turned over. 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 me from
behind , our favorite position. I liked it like that. I liked anything my husband liked
… At that moment, I longed for my husband's big cock, for him to thrust into me forcefully, relentlessly until he killed me. I
wanted it right now.
I wanted it so badly. My husband's cock was so hard, pressing against me, filling me completely, even my heart.
But my husband didn't move. He stopped when his cock pierced my vagina. The feeling was completely different, like
a heat flowing in, from deep within my vagina straight to my head, making my limbs go numb and weak. I let out
a soft sigh. This was it… the familiar hardness I knew without even looking, the love I could feel instinctively.
My husband didn't move. I felt satisfied without him moving; if he did, I might reach orgasm immediately.
My heart cried out, "Husband, please move! It's so itchy inside! Why won't you penetrate me?" Then the man
came to my face, kneeling, gently holding my limp head, and softly asked, "Is it comfortable?"
I almost screamed, "Comfortable! Penetrate me! Please penetrate me!"
I knew the reason my husband didn'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 another feeling,
the feeling of being watched by a stranger. This feeling made me even hotter, even more wanting 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
just gently stroked my hair, touching me lightly, doing nothing. His condom was off, and his penis was drooping,
not as magnificent as before. It wasn't completely shrunken; the length remained the same, only 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 like it when my husband kisses my breasts,
feeling a maternal instinct rise within me. 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 further back, and although my husband seemed to have controlled himself,
he didn't thrust as forcefully as before, just gently and slowly inserting. The more I couldn't have it, the more my desire was aroused, my heart
felt like it was being weighed down by a large stone. 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 it wasn’t as
vigorous as before, the thrusts felt millions of times more pleasurable. My husband’s penis was inside me,
swaying back and forth, making me feel so uncomfortable. Then it exploded! A rainbow of colors appeared before my eyes. It was coming, I
knew it was coming. My husband had thrust me to the very top, my soul was being pulled out.
Yes, I wanted to eat his penis, I screamed in my heart, I wanted to eat it, I wanted to eat it! The man straightened his body
, his penis right in front of me, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t reach it. My body swayed during the thrusts
… All I could do was grab it, but even grabbing it was so difficult. I had to support myself with one hand and
hold . His penis quickly hardened in my hand, so hard,
harder than all the penises in the world combined, like a red-hot iron rod… but I couldn’t reach it.
"Do you like it?" the man groaned as he asked 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 . I would die if I didn't scream. My husband's penis was at its hilt, so deep that I felt like it was going to burst.
My husband's strength increased, one orgasm after another. I couldn't see what I was holding anymore. I
wanted ; I think I had gone mad.
I couldn't take it anymore. I put down the penis and let 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 all over my face. I knew it. I heard that
shiny penis calling to me. As my husband thrust his penis in and out, hitting my face, it was so beautiful. I wanted
to eat it, to swallow it...
I shouted, "Pull-up, big penis!" The penis was right in front of me; my husband's penis was penetrating me. "
What?" my husband roared as if he hadn't heard me. "Big stick! Big stick!" My husband's speed increased,
and I knew he was about to ejaculate. He would fill my vagina with a lot of semen, flooding it. An orgasm overwhelmed me, and before my
eyes swayed a thick, hard penis. I shouted, "It's a big stick, such a big
stick! Fuck me, I want a big stick 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 "stick"... Oh! When it's soft, I call it "bird." Occasionally, in public, like
at the market, if I hear someone swearing, I immediately feel extremely uncomfortable. I think
this is a constraint imposed on women by their upbringing!
My husband introduced me to this world of frivolous talk. At first, I resisted, but I reluctantly tried. Initially, I
got worse and worse, constantly thinking about what to say during sex, to the point where I didn't even know
where to put my legs. Then one time, my husband brought me to the brink of ecstasy, and in his excitement, he told me to shout. Suddenly,
without thinking, those frivolous words flowed out naturally…
It's true! When you shout out those taboos without restraint, all rules disappear.
But unless my husband calls or commands me, and I happen to be in the throes of impending climax,
I normally wouldn't think of these things that a good woman shouldn't say, even during sex. 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, liberating 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 took birth control pills,
those pills that gave me headaches and made 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! His thick, hard penis was right in front of me, still perfectly erect… Though
I was tired, I felt unsatisfied, a void lingering between my legs from his departure. I think I've truly let go.
Relying on my husband's love, I dare to do anything, and most importantly, he 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 started touching it, just gently, not intentionally, because this hard, big
penis just happened to be right in front of me. I hadn't paid much attention before, but now I noticed that his penis was
different , yet equally adorable. His penis was slightly thicker at the back, especially the inverted triangular cone-shaped glans
, which was particularly intriguing, like a sharp spear that could pierce the 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 actually swallow it,
just circled his glans with my tongue, gently touching it. Then I felt his glans throb
twice on my tongue, like a small, independent life… It was so beautiful, the most beautiful part of a man
. I couldn't resist taking it all in my mouth, feeling it pulsate within me, that most beautiful glans seeming to
swell even more.
My husband lay beside me, smiling as he watched me. 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 to its limit,
anticipating its bursting open and releasing millions of seeds. My husband reached out and touched my bare shoulder. He was
panting, sighing, and moaning.
"Do you like it?" he asked softly. I couldn't answer, yet I didn't want to spit it out. I could only nod as I
sucked , silently screaming, "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 itching. "Do you want to fuck him? I want you to fuck
him, fuck him to death!" my husband whispered 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! To fuck this
unruly rod to death. I spat out the stick, pushed the man down, and couldn't wait even a second longer. That empty feeling
in my bladder needed to be filled with a stick, so I eagerly mounted him… I first grabbed the throbbing,
huge stick, looked at my husband, who was smiling at me, and sat down. This time, the stick wasn't on a condom
because my mind was blank except for that huge stick.
So full, so incredibly full, it felt like the thickest, biggest stick in the world was about to pierce my stomach. I
screamed, frantically 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 so much, I wished the world would stop right then and there, I wished the end of the world would come...
Then the climax surged from my lower body and knocked 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 of my wetness, and although I wanted to grab it back, I was already
satisfied , I couldn't take any more, any more and I would die instantly. I was trembling, the uncontrollable tide
surging inside me, I couldn't stop shaking. I dragged myself forward and kissed him, cupping his face
and exploring the soul of this stranger, I found myself completely captivated by his penis.
The tongue that had just licked my pussy was now burrowing in my mouth like a little snake. I hugged him tightly, wanting to
bury myself completely in his body, in his broad chest, I wanted to curl up in his arms and never leave.
He didn't let me go. He picked me up around the waist and laid me flat on my back. I felt as
helpless . I spread my legs wide, to the limit I knew, waiting for him to come and
fuck me with that big rod, to fuck me to death. I screamed when he entered me, I screamed! Oh! I thrust my buttocks 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 lower body. I liked it. I wanted to
give him my most precious place, to let him see it clearly. My pussy was there, he could do whatever he wanted with it,
I just wanted him to fuck me hard. He thrust so hard, I only knew that I was constantly swaying my upper body from side to side. I wanted freedom, I wanted
that freedom I had 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 entire penis seemed to go all the way in, and I felt his rod
throb . I knew he had ejaculated, all of it inside me. I grabbed his neck, wanting him to press down on me.
I wanted his semen to melt inside me, to let his virginity surge within me.
He leaned against the headboard, and I sat in his lap, playing with his penis. My husband sat opposite
us … We were all tired, exhausted, and it was all over. We smiled at each other.
“Jealous?” I asked, looking into my husband’s eyes, sitting 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 and kissed him, then wrapped my arms around his strong neck and lifted my hips.
Half-squatting, I took his hard glans into my wet vagina. My love juices started flowing again, flowing through my heart,
the glans throbbing inside me. I turned to my husband and asked, "So, how about this?" He
smiled 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 penis inside my vagina! It's so big,
it's so itchy inside. I want him to fuck me, let his big penis be inside my vagina for you to see, okay... Please kiss me, okay?
I want you to kiss me!" His penis 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 his shoulders, watching his penis thrusting in and out of my vagina with him.
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 and touched my thighs, a touch of sadness rose up... It was
time to part, and he was leaving. I helped him up, groping his body, trying to find some
evidence to mourn him. His penis pressed against my lower abdomen, so warm and hard.
I knelt on the floor, sucking his penis, swallowing it to the deepest part of my throat, the shower water
spraying on my back. The bathroom was separated by carved glass, not transparent but enough to see shadows inside… Maybe
my husband knew what I was doing, maybe not, but this was my first affair.
It was true, I really wanted to make love to him alone, in the most private environment, without anyone
disturbing . “Just one more time, please!” I pleaded, looking up at him.
He picked me up, suspending me in mid-air, his entire penis inside me, my legs
tightly his waist, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck. I should have felt scared, 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, enduring the end of
an extraordinary encounter, reaching orgasm almost immediately. It was ridiculous, but I really thought I could
make him remember me this way, this ordinary woman who had once been clinging to him.
As he was about to leave after taking his money, I asked for his contact information and took out a pen, saying I 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 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; I've forgotten how many times we came
that day .
Afterwards, I went to see the masseur separately a few more times. I
still felt itchy where I wanted to be itchy, and I was still aroused where I wanted to be aroused. I
arched my back and let him caress me. I felt that this man was stronger than my husband, his tongue was 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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