The cuckoldry plot after surrogacy

I just couldn't understand how I could have azoospermia, the most serious form of male infertility. I'm physically strong
, my reproductive organs are fully developed, my testicles are the right size and firmness, and my libido is strong—how could I not have sperm?
During that time, I was depressed and withdrawn. My wife comforted me, saying, "It's okay, we can always
adopt a child." Reflexively, I refused outright. Absolutely not! Adopting a child—if people
knew I was infertile, what face and dignity would I have left? If people suspected I was infertile, wouldn't I
feel wronged? You absolutely have to have a child.
Over the course of a year, we underwent three IVF procedures, but fate played a cruel trick on us; we failed every single time
. Time and energy drained us, and we lost the courage to continue. One evening, I was strolling alone on the street
when I randomly bought a magazine at a newsstand. An article in it caught my eye; it was about a husband who
was infertile. To save face and continue the family line, his family encouraged his wife to find another man to father a child. She gave birth to
a healthy, chubby son, and his family was overjoyed, treating him as their own. After reading it, I wrote a note
and slipped it before the article, saying: "I will be like that husband, and I hope you will be like that wife."
A few days later, I opened the magazine and found the note missing. Knowing my wife had read it, I asked her, "What do you think?"
She said, "Do you really want to do that?" I replied, "There's no other choice now. It's a win-win
situation. On one hand, you can become a real mother; on the other hand, our family will be truly complete;
and of course, my reputation will be preserved."
Time passed day by day. That summer, we hired several helpers, including a man
about my age, tall and good-looking. He had served in the army for several years, and combined with manual labor,
he was very fit and attractive. He was married and had a lovely daughter. At first, he
would immediately ride his motorcycle home when his shift ended, a journey of only half an hour. Because I worked in another city and
could only come home on weekends, my wife was left to manage everything at home alone, working during the day, which was very tiring
. Later, the man found out and felt that my wife was working too hard, so he often helped by giving advice, running errands to
the market, buying materials, supervising quality control, and directing the workers. To express her gratitude, my wife would often
cook a lavish dinner to reward the man. Gradually, the man became less eager to come home. One weekend when
I came home and we had dinner together, I noticed that my wife and the man were becoming more casual and intimate. I really hoped that
something would happen between them.
Some time later, on a Wednesday, I went back to my hometown on business. After finishing, it was still early,
so I didn't call my wife or rush home. Instead, I went to an internet cafe and spent some time online until after
9 PM before returning home. As soon as I entered the yard, I saw the man's motorcycle parked downstairs
. The lights were on in the living room upstairs, and someone was watching TV. I could hear running water in the bathroom; someone was taking
a shower. I didn't go in but hid in the yard to observe. After a while, the water stopped in the bathroom, the lights went out, and someone
came into the living room, said a few words, and then turned off the TV and lights. The lights in the master bedroom came on. Since our house is a
detached house, the curtains weren't drawn; only the main light was off, and the bedside lamp was on, creating a softer, more intimate atmosphere.
I quietly opened the door, took off my shoes, went upstairs, and hid by the bedroom door to eavesdrop. A soft rustling
sound came from below, then came panting, slowly turning into my wife's moans. I heard her
let out a soft "ah," and then various sounds entered my ears: the creaking of the bed, the
sounds of flesh colliding, moans, panting, and the sucking sounds of friction as she moved in and out. I touched my
groin; my penis was hard as iron, the shaft wet, and my underwear was wet too. I don't know how much time passed,
but my blood was surging, and I felt as if liquid was about to gush out. Just then, I suddenly heard my wife scream, followed by
a muffled groan from the man. Apart from the heavy breathing, all other sounds stopped abruptly. I quietly went downstairs, my body
burning hot. I took off my clothes and stood naked in the yard, my mind filled with images of them making love
. I frantically masturbated, feeling an unbridled pleasure. I fell
asleep on the sofa downstairs. When I woke up, I checked the time; it was already past four in the morning. I got dressed and
decided to go upstairs.
Upstairs, I opened the bedroom door and turned on the main light. The room was instantly as bright as day. There they were, naked
, sprawled out, fast asleep. The sheets were a mess, and the blankets were on the floor. The man's penis was
thick and powerful, pressed against his stomach, the glans just covering his navel. A bluish tinge protruded from the shaft, and his scrotum hung softly. His
two large testicles were swollen and swollen. Most strangely, while most people's pubic hair is curly, his
pubic hair was not only long but also straight, covering his entire lower abdomen with a dense, shiny black covering that extended all the way to his navel
. His scrotum was also hairy, and his penis was covered
with fine, dense black hair about six or seven centimeters from the base. Perhaps it was the bright light that woke them both at the same time. The man frantically grabbed
his clothes, which I had already gathered, then hurriedly grabbed the sheets, which fell to the floor. I saw his penis rapidly
soften, finally drooping lazily between his legs like a fat caterpillar. I went over and drew the curtains
, saying, "Don't panic or be afraid. I don't want to make a scene, lest it affect our reputations and
ruin both our families." He kept apologizing. I asked, "Do you love my wife?" He looked at
me, then at my wife, and nodded, saying he did. I said, "Good. Since you love her, there's no need to apologize. Otherwise
, you'd be betraying my wife." I asked, "How many times have you two done it?" He said, "
Twice since last Friday until today." I thought to myself, "That's right, it's my wife's ovulation period." I said, "My wife is a proud person. For you to get her
to sleep with you means you've conquered her. I only have one request now." He quickly promised to grant any request
, as long as I forgave him. I said, "Doing it once is the same as doing it many times, so why don't you
do it again in front of me? I want to see how you conquer my wife." He looked hesitant, and I said, "Difficult."
"You don't want to?" His wife, who had been silent all along, suddenly embraced him, kissing his neck and lips. Gradually, he
responded; his penis slowly revived, growing thicker and longer, the glans seemingly eager to rise. A moment later, another erection struck,
the large, round, and shiny glans. He gradually loosened his grip, responding passionately,
kissing his wife's neck and earlobes repeatedly. His head slowly lowered, sucking on her nipple, while one hand continuously caressed
her inner thigh. His wife slowly began to breathe heavily, then began to moan. I saw
fluid flowing from her vagina; he used his large palm to rub her labia, sometimes
inserting his long, thick middle finger into her vagina. He wasn't in a hurry to enter. His head continued downwards, lifting his wife's feet and sucking on
her toes, one by one. Then he buried his head between her legs, sometimes
licking her clitoris with his tongue, sometimes gently biting it with his teeth, sometimes probing her vagina with his tongue—things I had never
done before. I saw my wife's body stiffen, her buttocks arching upwards, desperately trying to accommodate him. Seeing this
, the man knew it was time to penetrate. He lay on top of his wife, his large glans probing along her clitoris
a few times, but failing to insert accurately. I couldn't help but go over and hold the man's penis. It was thick and
hot, with clear fluid constantly flowing from the urethral opening. With my help, the man's penis entered with a soft "plop
," tightly enveloping her. The man wasn't in a hurry, but moved slowly and gently, thrusting in and out. A few minutes later
, he rolled over with his wife in his arms, assuming the woman-on-top position. He kneaded her breasts incessantly with both hands. His wife sometimes
sat on top of him, allowing his penis to penetrate deeply, her hips rubbing back and forth, sometimes moving
up and down, with a constant trickle of fluid running down his penis. After a while, the man sat up,
holding his wife tightly in his arms, and slowly moved to the edge of the bed. He then abruptly stood up on the floor, supporting
her buttocks with both hands. She clung tightly to his neck, her full breasts pressed against his chest. His
thick penis, deeply inserted, became a point of support. He sometimes used his hands to support her buttocks
and moved up and down, sometimes using the strength of his waist and hips to thrust forcefully. His wife's moans grew louder, and suddenly she
tightly embraced his back, biting his arm. I saw my wife's genitals twitching incessantly
; she was orgasming. Her vaginal fluids flowed down his penis, wetting his scrotum and dripping
onto the floor. Once she had calmed down slightly, he gently placed her upper body on the bed, her buttocks
resting on the edge. He knelt on the floor, hoisting her legs onto his shoulders, and began thrusting repeatedly, his thick thumb
kneading her clitoris. Her moans grew louder. Then he had her kneel on the edge of the bed. Standing, he
guided his penis to her vaginal opening with one hand, while his other hands supported her buttocks as he
thrust rapidly, the sounds of their bodies colliding echoing loudly. His scrotum bounced upwards with each movement, then
slammed against her vaginal opening. Sweat streamed down the man's back; his entire body was glistening with oil, incredibly
sexy. After a while, they lay down again, his wife with her back to him. He supported one of her legs
with one hand and wrapped the other around her neck, penetrating her from behind. Although the penetration wasn't very deep, it was
quite effective. His wife's clitoris sometimes turned outwards and sometimes retracted with the thrusting of his penis. Finally
, they returned to the man-on-top position. The man showed no mercy, thrusting relentlessly, faster and harder,
shaking the ground. His wife screamed, her body arching upwards before falling back down. The man roared, and
I saw his penis bulging and contracting beneath his anus. It subsided after about twenty or thirty seconds. Two or three minutes later,
the man's penis slowly softened, the glans slowly slipping out of her vagina. He rolled over, lying on his back, panting heavily.
His pubic hair was wet. I said to him, "You've done it to my wife, you have to leave something behind." He said, "You can have anything you want,
as long as you don't hurt me." I told him I was going to shave his pubic hair, and he nodded. I took out a razor and
shaved his lower abdomen clean, putting the pubic hair in a sealed bag. It was already dawn. I patted him and said, "You two take a break
. I'll go make breakfast; your coworkers should be here soon." I went downstairs and stir-fried a large plate of shredded pork for them
, fried two eggs for each of them, and cooked a large bowl of shredded pork noodles for each.
Ten days later, our construction project was finished, and the man went to work elsewhere with his coworkers. A month later,
my wife told me she was pregnant. Later, the man came twice more. Once, I wasn't home, and he asked my wife
if the child was his. My wife immediately denied it, saying, "We've already wronged my husband enough; I can't
wrong him again." Later, I asked my wife how he explained the pubic hair incident to her. She said
he told her that it was hot and he sweated easily, his lower abdomen was often damp, soaking his pants, which was unsightly, and
it made him prone to rashes, so he shaved it. Another time was after the New Year. My wife was five months pregnant. He
came with his wife and daughter, partly to thank us, saying
he had never encountered such a kind employer during his work. They also came to say goodbye, explaining they were going to work in Africa
for about three years. Four months later, my wife gave birth to a healthy baby boy. I was overjoyed. More
importantly, the child looked remarkably like my wife; the son resembled his mother. We wouldn't have to worry about money, and
there wouldn't be any future troubles.
However, from then on, I became obsessed with cuckoldry novels.
Scenes of the man and his wife making love constantly flashed through my mind. Once, I told my wife, "Life is short, life is unpredictable, life should be enjoyed to the fullest. I can't always
be by your side. If you need someone, you can find someone else, as long as you don't have an affair, don't break up this family, and don't ruin
your reputation." My wife asked if it was true. I said it was true. My wife's happiness is my life goal; my wife
's happiness is my joy. But you have to tell me who that man is. There's still no such man.
My son is three years old now and goes to kindergarten. Last week my parents came and said, "Now that things
are better, could you consider having another child? Two children, so you won't be lonely and will have each other for support, that would be great."
I smiled wryly and said, "Yes, two children are good."

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The cuckoldry plot after surrogacy

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