Cuckoldry

My surname is Zhang, and my given name is as ordinary as my surname. I bet everyone knows someone with the same name as me. In my 29 years of uneventful life, my greatest achievement is marrying my wife, Bailu.

Friends call her Xiaobai (Little White). True to her name, my wife has snow-white, delicate skin with almost no visible pores, and she rarely needs to groom her underarms. She is tall and well-proportioned. She trained in ballet for a period in her youth, which gives her an exceptionally graceful and elegant posture, with long, straight legs. However, the long training has also caused her to walk slightly pigeon-toed. To correct her posture, she almost always wears high heels when going out, and when we walk arm in arm, she is almost as tall as me. Ballet dancers are almost always slender and flat-chested, and my wife is no exception. At 170cm tall, she has never weighed more than 100 pounds, with a waist of only 1.8 feet and a B cup. However, below her slender waist are two full, round, and beautiful buttocks, which perfectly satisfy my preference for buttocks over breasts.

My wife and I got married two years ago after she graduated with her master's degree. She works at a state-owned research institution, mainly doing writing work. The pay is average, but it's a relatively relaxed job. Both sets of parents have been urging us to have a child soon, but my wife feels she's still young, and I don't want a baby to disrupt our time as a couple. At

the end of last year, my wife's company selected her to participate in an academic exchange in San Francisco, USA, for a week. My wife, who had never been abroad before, was very excited and started preparing for the trip well in advance. I was happy for her, so I took my annual leave to go to the US with her.

We booked accommodation in advance on Airbnb, a 2-bedroom, 2-bathroom apartment near the conference venue in UC Berkeley, where she would share with the landlord, Tim. When we met Tim at the airport, he was about our age, a typical white man from the San Francisco Bay Area, still wearing shorts and a t-shirt even though it was December.

Tim drove us to Berkeley, a quiet town nestled at the foot of the mountains. The streets, arranged neatly around the school, were lush and green everywhere. Tim led us to a room on the second floor of an apartment building. The furnishings were fairly clean and tidy. He apologized, explaining that the bathroom in our room was under repair, and we would have to share the bathroom on the first floor with him. However, he would waive the cleaning fee, and we could hitch a ride with him whenever we wanted. My wife is naturally easygoing and shy, and always hesitant to speak to strangers. I generously expressed my understanding, and we settled in.

For the first two days, my wife went to a meeting at the university early in the morning, while I wandered around the neighborhood alone. I got to know Tim quite well; it turned out he was studying at UC Berkeley, usually leaving early and returning late. We got along very well.

The schedule after the conference was quite relaxed, so my wife and I wanted to take the opportunity to explore San Francisco. My wife only brought a pair of black high heels to wear with her formal attire, which weren't enough for long walks. The next evening after dinner, Tim volunteered to drive us to the mall in the neighboring city of Richmond to buy her a pair of sneakers.

At a food locker store specializing in sports brands, my wife looked at the wall full of US-sized Nike and Adidas shoes and didn't know which size to choose. Tim gestured for her to take off her high heels, saying he would help her with the sizing. My wife looked hesitant; after all, he was a foreign man she didn't know well, and she wasn't wearing stockings. Taking off her shoes meant exposing her delicate, fair feet to strangers. She sat on a chair in the store, looking up at me with apprehension.

I was a little annoyed, thinking that there were plenty of staff in the store, and secretly blaming Tim for being so overly attentive. But then I remembered he meant well; he had taken every opportunity to praise my wife's beauty in the past few days. Besides, Americans are generally very easygoing, and I didn't want to be petty and lose face, so I nodded to my wife and gave her an encouraging smile.

Bai Lu blushed and slowly took off her shoes, revealing her two snow-white feet. Although my wife was tall, her feet were only size 36. Before going abroad, she had specially applied a bright orange-red nail polish to all ten of her toes, which further accentuated the whiteness and delicacy of her beautiful feet. Her arches were high, and the insteps looked as if they were coated with powder. Ballet dancers are required to have high arches, but long-term rigorous training leaves marks such as toe deformities, varicose veins, calluses, and scars. My wife hadn't had systematic training for many years, and she was usually quiet and rarely went out to exercise. With her careful maintenance, her feet were even more delicate than those of the average woman.

My wife, blushing, handed the shoes to Tim. Her bare feet, unsure where to place them, were hesitant. Always meticulous about cleanliness, she hesitated before putting them directly on the floor. Instead, she curled her knees and placed her feet diagonally on the chair, under her buttocks, her toes curling nervously, like delicate lotus seeds just emerging from the water. Today, she was still dressed in her meeting attire: a white chiffon blouse under her coat, and a fitted black pencil skirt. The blouse was tucked into the skirt, emphasizing her slender waist and full hips.

Even after years of living together, seeing my wife so shy, I was momentarily stunned, and a stirring rose in my lower body. Tim, holding my wife's high heels, stared intently at her feet, his gaze lingering between her delicate feet and shapely buttocks.

I thought to myself, "Isn't this voyeurism?"... I was about to say something to stop him, but then I felt a strange excitement. Although I knew it was inappropriate, I swallowed my words and just coughed. Tim seemed to wake up from a dream, gave me an embarrassed smile, and looked at the shoes in his hand. They were a pair of Sturweitzman black patent leather pumps with about 3-inch heels. They were a birthday gift I gave to my wife last year. She rarely wore them, only bringing them out for special occasions.

Tim looked at the shoe size, turned to the shoe rack, looked for a long time, then went to the children's shoe section next door, picked up a pair of the most fashionable Nike barefoot running shoes, and knelt down beside my wife's legs.

Tim said to his wife, "Lulu, you have such small feet, only shoes for big kids could fit you." (Lulu is his wife's English name; your feet are too small, you can only wear big kids' shoes.) He gave his wife a bright smile, "Let me help you with that, may I?" (Let me help you put them on, okay?) Without waiting for his wife's reply, he took her right foot, untied the shoelace, and gently put the shoe on for her.

His wife, who was always shy and quiet in front of strangers, blushed deeply in this situation. She twisted her hands together, wanting to pull her foot out of Tim's hands, but afraid of being impolite, she could only turn her head away, revealing a bright red back of her neck.

I stood there watching Tim hold my wife's delicate foot in his hand, a pang of jealousy rising within me. My heart pounded, my legs felt rooted to the spot, and I couldn't move. I wanted to say something, but my mind was a jumbled mess. I could only console myself that this was nothing unusual in America, and that Tim meant well. But seeing this scene, I found myself aroused. I quickly turned away, pretending to help my wife pick out other shoes.

After buying the shoes, my wife dragged me around the mall again, but she absolutely refused to let Tim stay with her. My wife blushed and whispered in my ear that she wanted to buy some lingerie. She said that Victoria's Secret in America had more styles than in China, and the prices were much cheaper. The scent of my wife and the touch of her hair against my ear made me feel incredibly aroused, so I asked Tim if we could wait for each other at the Starbucks next door. Tim readily agreed.

As soon as we entered the Victoria's Secret store, my wife seemed to snap out of her earlier embarrassment and tension, letting out a soft cheer and excitedly pulling me inside. I looked around; there were large, pear-shaped Black women in their forties and fifties, as well as teenage girls with braces, and groups of college students in tight-fitting leggings. While the white female college students were certainly dressed provocatively, with large breasts and long legs, none of them possessed the allure of my wife, especially her skin. Up close, her skin was covered in fine blonde hair, nowhere near as fair and smooth as my wife's. The wife draped her coat over her arm, revealing a waist so narrow it could be encircled with one hand, much slimmer than others. It was as if she had skipped the stage of a robust waist in her teenage years, still retaining the innocence and childlike charm of a little girl. But below her slender waist were two full, upturned buttocks, forming a perfect peach shape, tightly wrapped in a straight skirt that swayed gently with her steps. Although the hem of the skirt only reached 15 centimeters above her knees, because the wife's waist was so thin, any skirt or trousers that fit her waist would be too tight on her buttocks. If you looked closely, you could even make out the edge of her panties, right below her buttocks.

I stared at my wife's beautiful buttocks for a moment, recalling the night before I left the country, when we made love. She was lying face down on the bed, and I was in a doggy style position, pressing against her buttocks from behind. Because of her long legs, I had to stand on tiptoe to get my penis perfectly aligned with her vulva. Since arriving in California, we hadn't been intimate. Remembering that moment, my penis quickly became erect. I felt like the other people in the store were giving me disdainful looks, so I quickly stopped and whispered to my wife, "I won't go in with you. Go ahead and buy your own clothes, buy a few more pairs of underwear. The ones you're wearing now are showing your underwear." I gently slapped her buttocks.

The blush that had just faded on her face returned. She pinched me hard, handed me her bag, told me to wait for her at the store entrance, and went inside. Before leaving, she hesitated for a moment, then gently kissed my cheek. My wife's parents are both civil servants, with a conservative upbringing and introverted personalities. They rarely show any affection in public, so this kiss truly flattered me. I quickly pulled out my wallet from my pocket, took out my credit card, and handed it to my wife.

After a while, my wife walked out carrying a small black Victoria's Secret paper bag. I quickly took it, but just as I was about to open it, my wife snatched it away.

"...Look at it when we get home, don't open it here."

"Hehe, okay, then you can wear it for me tonight," I said with a lewd grin. "Honey, do you want to do 'that' tonight...? I've been holding back for days."

My wife rolled her eyes at me and pinched me. "Let's go home, I'm tired, hmph."

Tim drove us back. Tim turned his head and looked at the Victoria's Secret bag in my wife's hand with interest, then turned back to me in the passenger seat and said meaningfully, "Man, you're so lucky."

A thought struck me, and I feigned ignorance, asking him why he said that. Tim smiled slyly, "Because your wife's feet are so small and lovely."

It was past nine o'clock when we got back to our place. Tim parked the car by the roadside, opened the door, and told me he was going to the school lab that night and probably wouldn't be back. He gave my wife a meaningful smile, closed the door, and left.

My wife hadn't dared to say much while Tim was there. After he left, she let out a long sigh, gave me a reproachful glare, bent down to take off her high heels, and went up the stairs to our room on the second floor. I stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching my wife sway her beautiful hips as she walked up. Recalling the scenes from earlier, I felt a surge of desire and quickly followed her. At the door, I grabbed Bai Lu and practically shoved her inside, then closed the door behind me.

"Hey, why did you push me? You're so annoying!"

"Hehe, honey, I think you look especially beautiful today, really," I said with a sly grin. "Let your husband see what you bought." I snatched the Victoria's Secret paper bag and eagerly tore open the plastic packaging. Inside, I saw a black lace T-shirt, a fuchsia T-back V-striking, and two slightly more conservative Cheeky dresses, one turquoise and one gray. But I was still incredibly excited.

My wife usually dresses conservatively, requiring formal attire for work, but otherwise still maintains her cute, student-era style. I often tease her that she's already in the workforce but still trying to look young. When it comes to lingerie, my wife's only requirement is comfort. Although she only has a B cup, she doesn't use various push-up bras to create the illusion of cleavage like some small-breasted women. She mostly wears simple cotton bras, and her panties are all high-waisted bodycon styles. Although I've bought her sexy lingerie before, she's shy about wearing it even during foreplay, let alone everyday wear.

I often complain to her that such a beautiful bottom deserves more sexy lingerie to avoid wasting it, and she always smiles sweetly and retorts that no one sees it anyway. When we're actually half-undressed and ready for lovemaking, I always quickly take off her lingerie, since even the sexiest clothes won't be visible for long. Unexpectedly,

my wife actually bought sexy lingerie on her own initiative. It seems that being in America, far away in a foreign land, has softened her conservative nature a bit. So I begged her to change and let me see.

"I haven't washed it yet, it's not clean." Although my wife kept refusing, she couldn't resist my persistent pleading. She gently untied her black skirt, sat on the bed, and slowly pulled down her panties, revealing a small tuft of dark, shiny pubic hair between her legs. She was about to pick up her lake-green Cheeky, but I snatched it away.

"Wear this orange-red thong, honey, it matches your toenail polish perfectly." Seeing my eager expression, my wife sighed helplessly, "...You pervert!" and then slipped her two long, snow-white legs into the panties. From the front, this thong looked no different from ordinary low-rise panties, except for two crossed ribbons in the back. It also had certain requirements for the wearer. Most girls would show a little bit of pubic hair in the front, unless they regularly trimmed their pubic hair like most American girls to maintain their bikini line. And there was nothing in the back except for the two horizontal and vertical straps, which would make a not-so-firm buttocks appear particularly flat.

My wife is naturally hairless; a trim under her arms once a year is enough to keep her looking fresh all summer. Her pubic area has only a small tuft of dark, glossy pubic hair on her mons pubis. Her labia and anus are spotless, and her buttocks are especially firm and perky, making her look stunning in thongs.

My wife put on her underwear and stood up shyly, looking at herself in the mirror, seemingly captivated by her own alluring figure, something she had never possessed before. Her small feet were on the carpet, and she habitually half-stood on her tiptoes. Her slender calves showed the faint outline of muscle; though fair, they didn't appear weak. Her thighs were exceptionally full, like two white lotus roots, their skin smooth and delicate. The curves flowed perfectly upwards to her two round, white buttocks. Only two rose-red ribbons adorned her waist and buttocks, making her skin appear even whiter. Two round dimples were visible at her waist, like deep dimples embedded in her firm, shapely buttocks.

My wife was still wearing her daytime formal shirt, tied in a knot at her waist, but her lower body was exposed. The thought of my wife dressed like this during the day to represent her company at a conference, and then standing almost naked in front of me at night for me to see, overwhelmed my lust. I quickly pulled down my pants and underwear, revealing my already aroused genitals, and hugged my wife tightly from behind.

I buried my head in her neck, intoxicated by her scent. My left hand slipped inside her shirt to unhook her bra and began to fondle her nipples. Although her breasts weren't large, her nipples were exceptionally full, the size and color of cherries, a deep red. Even normally, they weren't limp; caught off guard by my sudden attack, they hardened within minutes of being touched.

I was surprised by how quickly my wife became aroused. I teased her in the ear, "You little slut, why are your nipples hard so quickly today?" My other hand reached down to her waist, pulled open her thong, and inserted my penis between her tightly pressed thighs from behind. "Honey, can you open your legs a little wider?" My wife tried to pull away, but I held her tightly. With both hands attacking her sensitive areas, she went limp. I took the opportunity to push my hard, stick-like penis firmly against her vulva and gently moved it back and forth.

My wife and I met on a university campus. She was two years younger than me. Although we weren't in the same major, after more than a year of my persistent pursuit, we finally started dating when she was a sophomore. Because of her strict upbringing and the fact that I was her first serious boyfriend, my wife had always refused to sleep with me. However, being gentle and submissive by nature, she never refused to let my nimble and delicate hands satisfy my sexual desires.

When she graduated from her senior year of college, she was recommended to continue her master's studies at another university in the same city. I had already been working for two years. After meeting each other's parents, we were engaged and agreed to get married after she graduated with her master's degree. Bai Lu finally gave up her precious virginity on a warm spring night after my persistent pleading. For the next three years, Bai Lu spent every weekend in my rented apartment. However, because I shared the apartment with a colleague, we never really enjoyed sex until after we got married and bought a small, secondhand two-bedroom apartment with the help of both sets of parents.

Only then could we have sex to our hearts' content. My wife is not a woman with a strong sex drive. I can hardly remember her ever initiating intercourse. In bed, she is completely passive. However, she is easily aroused with the slightest teasing, and she is completely obedient after penetration.

Whether it is a good thing or a bad thing, my wife's orgasm comes very quickly. After I press her down and thrust into her for a few minutes, she will tremble all over, her breasts and buttocks will turn red, and large beads of sweat will appear. Her hands and legs will be tightly wrapped around my back, and her vaginal muscles will contract tightly. Perhaps because she was always worried about her roommate next door when we made love, my wife always resisted making too much noise during intercourse. Even after we got married and had our own space, she was still shy about moaning, at most letting out a few suppressed, seductive moans from her nose a few seconds before orgasm.

Her orgasms came and went quickly; after the climax, I couldn't continue thrusting for long before her vaginal lubrication stopped. At this point, she would often frown and show a pained expression. Although I didn't want her to cry out in pain and spoil my mood, I cherish my wife the most. I usually don't let her do housework, let alone let her suffer pain. Basically, I would pull out my penis and let her help me ejaculate with her hand. She had never experienced multiple orgasms.

But today was different. Perhaps because we were in a completely unfamiliar environment, my wife, unusually, didn't resist my lewd behavior, but she didn't cooperate either. She just lowered her head, closed her eyes, and let me take liberties with her.

My wife's erogenous zones are mainly concentrated on the back of her neck, her waist, and her nipples. While I teased and twisted her nipples with both hands, I gently sucked on her neck. Looking up at my wife's snow-white figure in the mirror, I was overcome with lust. My erection throbbed, eager to part her swollen, engorged labia and thrust into her.

My wife noticed my unusual behavior, looked up, and saw the lewd scene in the mirror. She blushed with embarrassment and struggled to break free from my embrace. I wouldn't let her escape. In a few swift movements, I removed her top and bra, grabbed her hands, and pressed her upper body against the mirror. I spread her legs and tried to thrust in.

However, my wife's long legs and plump buttocks pressed against my pubic bone, and my glans could only penetrate halfway before I could not go any further. Feeling the gentle embrace of my wife's labia, warm and overflowing with juices, I frantically turned her around, my right hand pulling her left leg into my arm, then lifting it to my shoulder. My left hand untied the thong between her legs, and I explored her lower body with my penis, finding the right spot before thrusting it in all the way. Then I began to thrust vigorously.

After I penetrated her, my wife went limp, but fortunately, she was extremely flexible, and this high-split frontal position was nothing to her. My wife, panting heavily as I thrust, managed to squeeze out a voice to scold me:

"...Ugh...Ugh...Stop it...Pull it out..."

Like a tired horse pulling a cart, I exhaled hot breaths, my lower body still thrusting relentlessly, my usual nine shallow thrusts and one deep one long forgotten.

"Why, honey... oh... so good..."

"...Mmm... oh... you didn't wear a condom... and you didn't wash down there... so dirty... ah..." "...It's okay, honey... just this once..." After saying that, I thrust my lower body even more wildly. I gripped my wife's buttocks tightly with both hands and lowered my head to find her tongue.

My wife's tongue was held in my mouth, and she could only weakly protest with whimpers, but her nimble tongue couldn't help but entwine with mine.

My wife's orgasm is clitoral, which requires sufficient contact and friction between the mons pubis and the man's genitals to reach the peak. In this position, only most of my penis was going in and out of her spread labia. Knowing that my wife would have difficulty reaching the peak in this way, I wanted to take my wife to bed and change to the missionary position to give her a few more real thrusts, but I also felt that it was rare for her to be so open and cooperative, and I didn't want this lovemaking to end too soon after my wife's orgasm, so I steeled myself and kept thrusting.

After a while, my wife suddenly struggled to lift her head and said,

"...Ugh...Honey...I need to go to the toilet..."

"...What do you want to do there...Let me fuck you a few more times before you go..." "...Um...I...I need to pee...Don't push...If you push any harder, I'll pee..." At this moment, I couldn't bear to pull out my penis, so I simply bent down slightly and lifted my wife's legs from behind her knees, supporting her long, slender legs with my arms, letting her legs cross behind her waist, and encircling her from behind with my hands, leaving only my penis connecting our lower bodies. I carried my wife like this, thrusting in and out as I walked towards the door. My wife only weighed a little over 90 pounds, and I regularly run and exercise, so although this train bento position was a first for me, I could handle it physically.

"Hehe...husband will carry you to pee."

My wife exclaimed, struggling to get down, but the hot, throbbing penis inside her made it almost impossible for her to think. Afraid of slipping off me, she could only cling tightly to my neck, letting me carry her out of the room like two naked conjoined twins.

Perhaps it was the novelty of this new position, but as we walked, I felt her already incredibly tight vagina tighten even more. If it weren't for my rock-hard penis, it would have been squeezed out of her vagina. Her love juices flowed down my thighs as my penis moved between her red, moist openings.

Seeing that we were about to reach the second floor, I was afraid of losing my balance and falling, so I turned around and slowly walked backwards, telling my wife to hold onto the handrail with one hand and the wall with the other. Even so, I was exhausted by the time we reached the first floor. Taking advantage of the situation, I gently placed my wife's back on the steps, her legs still tightly wrapped around my waist, but I pressed my entire weight onto her. As I thrust in and out, my pubic bone rubbed against her mons pubis, while my other hand reached out to find her slightly exposed clitoris and gently teased it.

My wife had already been brought to the brink of ecstasy by me, but she was still lacking the most direct stimulation. She was panting anxiously in my ear, feeling flustered. After I pressed her down heavily, we returned to her most familiar position. As I gently teased her clitoris, she felt like a fish returning to the sea. Suddenly, she opened her beautiful eyes wide, raised her upper body, and hugged me tightly, frowning and moaning loudly. Her two perky nipples rubbed against my chest, and a fine layer of sweat had formed on her snow-white skin.

I was engrossed in rapid, vigorous thrusting, barely noticing the delicate folds of my wife's vagina and the tight, powerful muscles of her inner walls. My only thought was to bring her to orgasm as quickly as possible. Suddenly, I felt her body stiffen, her moans cease, and her vaginal walls contracted violently, followed by a slight tremor throughout her body. Under this intense stimulation, I finally couldn't hold back any longer and ejaculated the semen I had been holding back for days, spraying it deep into her vagina in spurts. The white, cloudy liquid coated every tiny fold of my wife's vagina.

I had just looked up to ask my wife if she had climaxed when I was surprised to find her staring in horror at what was behind me. Her slight trembling had turned into uncontrollable, violent shaking, but her vaginal walls were still contracting and relaxing, squeezing out semen from where our bodies were joined, which slowly flowed down the inside of my wife's snow-white thighs...

I followed my wife's gaze and turned around, and immediately understood the reason for her strange behavior: the front door on the first floor was wide open, and Tim had somehow returned! He stood by the door, car keys in one hand, staring blankly at our naked, intertwined bodies. He must have witnessed a great deal of our lovemaking. My wife had been pressed beneath me, eyes half-closed, enduring my thrusts, while I, too, was lost in the pleasure of her alluring body. All we could hear were the slapping sounds of our bodies colliding, the wet, squelching sounds of my penis entering and exiting her vagina, my heavy breathing like an ox, and my wife's soft, seductive moans. We were both so absorbed in the intense pleasure of this inappropriate act that we didn't even notice Tim entering the room.

Time seemed to freeze at that moment. Perhaps a few seconds passed, or perhaps only a moment. My wife recovered from her shock and fear, and hurriedly struggled to free herself from beneath me. My penis, though still erect from ejaculation, was forced out of her vagina by her violent movements, and I could almost hear a pop as the glans left her opening.

My wife was almost completely naked. Her snow-white body still had a pinkish tinge from the afterglow of her orgasm. Only a small thong was still wrapped around her waist, and the ribbon between her legs had been pushed aside. It was already soaked with her own juices, not only failing to cover her private parts but also highlighting her two swollen and thick labia that were blooming like flower petals. But she no longer cared about being exposed. Her wanton beauty after the orgasm was seen by a man other than her husband. From her panicked eyes and her trembling body, only one thought could be seen: escape!

My wife struggled several times and finally managed to stand up by holding onto the stair railing. She turned around and ran upstairs. After taking a few steps, in her panic, she accidentally stepped on the wrong step and fell. In her haste, her right foot kicked my chin.

The wife tried to get up again, but her limbs were weak from the intense orgasm, as if she had exhausted all her strength. A powerful sense of shame and fear drove her forward like a demon, forcing her to struggle upwards even on all fours, like escaping a volcano about to erupt.

Her disheveled black hair cascaded over her smooth, flawless back, slightly damp with sweat. Her back sank at her slender waist, but her two alluring, full buttocks were raised high. The rounded flesh behind her slender waist was taut from the effort, sloping exaggeratedly to the sides at her hips, the outline of muscles almost visible beneath her plump, white skin—like a female beast crawling through the grass, elegant yet dangerous.

Even with her wet genitals exposed between her legs, her labia still parted from swelling and engorgement, the opening of her vulva subtly opening and closing, a mixture of white semen and vaginal fluid still flowing out, even dripping onto the steps. This lewd scene, however, possessed a strange beauty.

I was stunned. My penis, which had softened from the aftermath of my sexual release and the shock, suddenly became erect again. Realizing what I was seeing, I hurriedly ran upstairs, my semi-erect penis still throbbing, leaving Tim standing awkwardly at the door, unsure what to do.

I rushed into the room and saw my wife already wrapped tightly in the blanket from head to toe, curled up on the bed, sobbing loudly, only a few strands of her black hair visible.

My heart was instantly filled with self-reproach, guilt, and tenderness for my wife. My wife grew up in an intellectual family. Her parents doted on her, but also raised her with strict discipline. She's only ever had one serious boyfriend, me. Her upbringing instilled in her a conservative view of sex. Sex between husband and wife can only happen at night after the lights are off. When her girlfriends occasionally discuss their husbands' performance in bed, she always blushes and remains silent. She always insists I use a condom and refuses to take oral contraceptives. I've almost never directly experienced the wonderful sensation of the folds of her vaginal walls.

This accident exposed my wife's image as a young woman enjoying sexual pleasure to a strange man. She usually covers herself up completely when going to hot springs or the beach, but this time, even her vaginal opening, constantly leaking semen, was seen. For my shy and conservative wife, it felt like the sky had fallen. If she weren't so strong-willed, she would probably be contemplating suicide.

I knew I had to comfort her, otherwise, it would leave an indelible scar on her heart.

I gently lay down behind her and tenderly embraced her through the blanket.

My wife noticed my arrival, turned over, and revealed her tear-streaked face from under the covers. She sobbed,

"Waaaa, honey...we've all been seen! I don't want to live anymore..." She cried even harder, her shoulders heaving under the covers, tears and snot soaking the blanket.

"Silly girl, it's okay. Even if someone sees you, it's not like you'll lose a piece of your body." "...But they saw me looking so ashamed! I...I'm not innocent anymore...waaaaa..." My wife timidly reached out and grabbed my arm.

"We're all adults. This kind of thing is as normal as eating and drinking. Are you afraid of being seen drinking milk?"

"Waaaaa...who would drink milk naked?!" My wife cried even louder, her face filled with unbearable grievance.

"This is America, it's nothing to them, especially college students, they're all so promiscuous. What's wrong with us being intimate?"

"...But another man saw me naked... 5555" "Sigh, silly child, so what if he saw you? Anyway, we're going back to China in a few days, and we'll have nothing to do with that bastard anymore. Just think of it as a puppy seeing your naked butt~" "...But...but no other man has ever seen me like this...Even my dad has never seen me so shameless...Won't you think I'm unclean...Won't you leave me...?" The wife gradually stopped sobbing, but was still choking back tears.

A surge of tenderness welled up inside me, and I held her tightly in my arms. "Silly baby, you'll always be the purest and most adorable wife in my heart! No matter what happens, as long as you still love me, I'll never leave you!

Without you, I'm nothing, I have nothing, I can't go anywhere..." My eyes welled up with tears as I spoke. "Lu, I love you..."

"...Husband..." My wife was moved by my words and finally smiled through her tears. "I love you too..." she said, burying her head deeply in my chest.

I pulled back the covers, and we embraced naked, feeling her warm, soft, and supple body, the faint fragrance of her hair near my ear, listening to her breathing slowly become long and deep. Perhaps she was tired from crying, for she had fallen into a sweet sleep.

Once my wife was sound asleep, I quietly got up, suddenly realizing that I had unexpectedly ejaculated inside her. I cursed inwardly, quickly dressed, and went to a 24-hour pharmacy on the street. It took me a lot of explaining to the clerk that I wanted to buy emergency contraception.

It was midnight when I returned to the room. My wife was fast asleep, and I couldn't bear to wake her. I placed the medicine on the table and sat by the bed, gazing down at her languid sleeping state.

Only the bedside lamp was on. My wife slept with her beautiful eyes closed, her long eyelashes casting shadows on her face. Tear streaks lingered on her cheeks. Her delicate nose was high and upturned, and her lips, like pearls, were full and rosy even without makeup. While not exactly cherry-like, they, combined with her pointed chin, made her appear even more alluring and sexy.

Even though I had known Bailu for over seven years, I was always captivated by her beauty. Such a beautiful woman had married an ordinary man like me; I couldn't help but feel grateful to heaven.

"Oh…I love this woman so much…" I said to myself.

Suddenly, I recalled the lewd and bizarre scene from earlier, my wife's unprecedented climax, and how her most private parts had been exposed to a strange man. My reason told me I should feel embarrassed, angry, and ashamed; I should even rush downstairs, drag Tim out, make him swear to forget everything, and then we'd move out of the apartment first thing tomorrow morning. But for some reason, besides anger, I sensed… a hint of excitement?

I kept replaying the scene from last night in my mind. With each replay, excitement mingled with jealousy, growing stronger, and before I knew it, my penis was hard again.

As if possessed, I slowly lifted the covers from below, revealing her fair feet, slender calves, and full thighs under the dim light of the lamp. Suddenly, I remembered that tonight, Tim had held my wife's feet in his hands. I wondered if he had taken the opportunity to savor the exquisite feel of her feet. My penis hardened again, even more eager than before… I wanted to fuck this beautiful, sexy woman in front of me!

I threw off the covers, my eyes fixed on my wife's naked body, my penis erect like an angry frog. I pressed myself against her, my left hand behind her neck, tilting her beautiful head back to find her red lips. My right hand grasped her breasts, kneading them roughly, my knees spreading her legs, rubbing my glans between her labia.

My wife was awakened by my rough movements, opening her eyes and looking at me groggily.

"...Husband? What are you doing..."

"Wife, I want it, let your husband fuck you again..."

"Didn't I just give it to you... You want more..."

"I don't know why, but I really want you today... Wife, please, I'll take you to buy a bag tomorrow, okay?"

"...You're so annoying..."

I said as I thrust my penis in and out. My wife's labia hadn't fully recovered from the engorgement and were still sensitive, quickly responding to the stimulation of my penis. The semen from before was still inside her vagina, and the usual tightness had loosened slightly. It didn't take much for me to re-enter her hot, wet secret place.

After pressing down on my wife's soft body for a while, she gradually got into the mood. Her vagina made gurgling sounds with each thrust of my penis. Her hands, which had been limp on the bed, began to wrap around my neck, and her long legs unconsciously wrapped around my waist, intertwining behind me.

"...Oh...wife...why is your vagina still so tight after I've been inside you for so long?" "...Annoying...isn't tight a good thing..." "

...If it's too tight, I'll cum quickly...hmm...I want to fuck you a few more times."

"Good husband, hurry up and cum, be good...hmm...oh..."

"Wife, I want you to give me a baby soon."

"...Um...why are you saying this now...didn't we agree to wait a few years..." "Hehe, it'll loosen up a bit after you have a baby...oh...it's so tight...hiss...so comfortable," I said, inhaling sharply. "Wife, are you comfortable?"

"...Comfortable..."

"Huh? I can't hear you, wife, tell me louder if it feels good." "...Mmm...Ah...It feels good~ Stop asking me!"

Hearing my wife's shy reply, my blood boiled even more, my eyes bloodshot as I thrust my penis in and out. My glans found a soft yet firm spot deep inside her vagina, and I thrust my penis upwards a few times. My wife suddenly cried out a few times, a pleasure I had never seen before: "Ah~ Ahh...Too deep! I can't take it~ Husband, please have mercy on me..." "

Let your husband thrust a few more times, have you found your G-spot, wife?" "~Ah...Mmm...I don't know, husband~ Hurry up and cum...My hands are numb...Mmm~Oh..." "Then you come on top and move yourself!"

My wife always prefers the traditional missionary position during sex, but when I'm on top, it's hard for me to fully enjoy her beautiful buttocks. By adopting the cowgirl position, my wife can directly rub her clitoris, making it very easy for her to orgasm, and I can also fully enjoy the feeling of kneading and slapping my wife's plump buttocks.

Although my wife was weak and sore all over, she forced herself to sit up, struggling to spread her fair thighs above my erect penis, revealing her wet, red vulva. She guided my penis to her opening and slowly began to slide it in.

I gripped her soft, supple buttocks tightly, savoring the soft, elastic feel. Looking up, I could taste her bright red nipples, and heard her moans growing louder and louder. Knowing she was nearing orgasm, I thrust my penis in rhythm with her movements.

Just then, I noticed a shadow cast through the crack under the door. Because the room was dimly lit, but the lights were on outside, any movement at the door was noticeable. The closed door seemed to have moved slightly, and the shadow under it shifted.

Could it be that Tim has come up? I thought to myself, it must be that the lovemaking that night that made this guy so restless. Even if American college students are particularly open about sex, he'd probably never seen a beautiful and elegant woman like my wife, naked and having sex with her husband, before. Maybe he heard me come home from buying medicine and couldn't suppress his lust, so he tiptoed upstairs to spy on us.

Although I knew I should quickly cover my wife's white flesh with the blanket, turn off the lights, and keep quiet, the thought that not only had someone else seen my wife's beautiful face during her orgasm, but now her panting and moaning as she struggled to get me to ejaculate was also being eavesdropped on by the same man made my penis even harder.

Oh well, it's not like I haven't seen it before, one more time won't make a difference!

This thought inexplicably popped into my head, and I reached out and turned the bedside lamp to its brightest setting, instantly revealing my wife's beautiful flesh.

I said to my wife, "Oh... honey, stick your butt out, stick it out higher, let me thrust a few times deep, I'm about to cum."

My wife obediently bent down, her legs changed from a squatting position to a kneeling position, raising her plump, white buttocks high.

I spread my legs, my glans perfectly positioned at the entrance of her vagina. I grasped her buttocks with both hands and began to stroke her, saying to my wife, "Wife, it feels so good! Say something nice, okay?" My wife lay on my chest, moaning with each thrust. "...Mmm...what should I say..." "Say 'husband, fuck me.'

" "...Mmm...no~"

"Say it, wife, and I'll cum inside you."

"...Oh, you're not wearing a condom...oh...it's so deep..."

"I wasn't wearing one either, wife, I'm sorry. I bought you some medicine, let your husband cum inside you again, okay?"

My wife was also close to orgasm, lost in the pleasure of my penetration, and obediently whispered, "...Mmm, husband...fuck...fuck me..."

"Louder!"

"...Ugh, someone will hear us~"

"It's okay, Tim doesn't understand Chinese anyway."

My wife was probably exhausted, and she was actually convinced by my twisted logic. Plus, the waves of pleasure in her lower body made her want to release it loudly, so she raised her voice and said, "Oh~ Oh~ Husband, fuck me~" The doorknob slowly turned, and the door was pushed open a crack, revealing a figure.

Tim finally couldn't resist peeping. "Look, look, you want to see? I'll let you see! Let you see how such a beautiful woman gets fucked!"

I spread my wife's snowy buttocks apart with both hands, her anus and vaginal opening completely exposed to the voyeur's gaze. My wife lay on top of me like a frog, her buttocks covered in large beads of sweat. A bulging penis was thrusting up and down inside her vagina, the surrounding area already soaked with her juices. "

Tim, did you see that? Did you see my wife's white buttocks? Did you see my wife's pussy? Don't you want to fuck her?"

Suddenly, my wife sat up, her head held high, her long black hair cascading down her face. Her buttocks were taut, and her vaginal muscles began to move with that intoxicating rhythm again. A suppressed, soul-stirring moan escaped her throat, like a she-wolf howling at the moon.

My wife climaxed, and I immediately ejaculated, filling her vagina with my second load of semen that day…

After a long while, my wife struggled to get out of bed, dressed, and asked me to accompany her downstairs to wash. She said she was afraid of running into TM again. Honey, he saw your pussy again! Although I secretly hoped my wife would do something with TM again, my tenderness prevailed. After showering with my wife, we returned to the room. I handed her the emergency contraceptive pill with an embarrassed smile. My wife swallowed the pill, glared at me, and said it was all my fault. I could only try my best to please her. Finally, after coaxing her to sleep, I tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep myself.

"So I'm a cuckold," I told myself, and surprisingly, I accepted it without any difficulty.

Do I love Bailu? I love her more than anything, needing her like a terminally ill patient craving life.

Do I want Bailu to be ogled by other men? ...Yes, I do. Just thinking about the scene from earlier makes my blood boil. The intense stimulation surpasses even the first time I saw an adult film as a teenager. It numbs my brain like a drug, stimulating the release of adrenaline and dopamine. I feel like I can't live without this feeling.

Do I want Bailu... to be fucked by other men? If just being seen by Bailu's body can arouse me this much, then imagining Bailu being pinned down by another man, his hard, dark penis roughly thrusting into her tender vagina, my beloved wife enduring, moaning incessantly, finally reaching the peak of pleasure—I can't even imagine how I would react.

Perhaps another violently erect penis would be the best answer... I've stepped into a forbidden door, and I hope my beloved wife will accompany me. I may be a selfish man, but my love for Bailu is undeniable. Perhaps this is how I love her.

Lost in thought, I finally drifted into a dark and deep dream. In the dream, my wife's white buttocks seemed to transform into a butterfly, fluttering lightly before me. Just as I reached out to catch it, I was horrified to discover that my ten fingers had turned into venomous snakes. Upon closer inspection, where the snakes' heads should have been, ten glans of different sizes and skin colors were growing, flicking their white, cloudy tongues, greedily chasing after my wife's gracefully dancing buttocks… Over the next few days, I took my wife all over San Francisco. The Golden Gate Bridge, Lombard Street, Fisherman's Wharf, Chinatown, Golden Gate Park—everywhere we went, my wife's beautiful figure was left behind.

My wife insisted on leaving early and returning late every day, avoiding any opportunity to meet him. Although it was a little regrettable, I thought that there was plenty of time in the future, so I wasn't in a hurry. On our last day before returning to China, I took my wife to the largest outlet mall in the Bay Area. Not only did I keep my promise and buy Bailu the bag she'd always wanted, but we also bought several new outfits, all on a sexy scale, at my suggestion. We also bought a huge amount of lingerie and stockings, until we'd spent our entire year-end bonus ahead of schedule. After these few days of sightseeing and the final shopping spree, my wife had completely recovered from her previous minor mishap, her gloom and dejection gone. She was holding my arm, her eyes crinkling into a smile, and seeing her

so happy made me happy too. The week felt like a month. Finally, we were back home, back in Beijing, where we'd lived and worked since starting university, back in our cozy little nest. After getting married, with the help of both sets of parents and a loan, Bailu and I managed to buy a small two-bedroom apartment near the Third Ring Road. Although it's small, the community has pleasant greenery and convenient transportation; it's only a half-hour walk from my wife's workplace, while I drive an hour to work every day, which is quite rare in Beijing!

As the year draws to a close, my wife and I have returned to our daily nine-to-five routine. However, Bailu has been complaining about gaining weight and wanting to lose it because she ate too many hamburgers and steaks in the US. Even though she's gained a couple of pounds, she's still under 100 pounds, but I encourage her to exercise more, since women need some muscle to maintain a beautiful appearance.

So I got her a membership at a pretty good gym nearby, bought her a full set of workout clothes—compression pants, a sports bra, running shoes, and a fitness tracker to record her daily activity. Compression pants are the best way to accentuate a woman's lower body lines. My wife, used to wearing leotards for ballet, wasn't averse to this tight design. The black composite fabric tightly hugged her full buttocks, making her buttocks appear even more like plump, ripe peaches. Her sports bra, though pressing tightly against her breasts, was thin and breathable, allowing glimpses of her nipples. The bra only reached below her ribs, exposing her firm, smooth abdomen. I'd seen

this kind of outfit many times at the gym and never thought much of it, but I harbored ulterior motives. Looking at my wife now felt particularly revealing. I couldn't help but fantasize about her running briskly on the treadmill, her beautiful buttocks jiggling, her long hair in a high ponytail swaying from side to side, the men around her captivated by her pretty face and slender, well-proportioned figure, staring intently at her.

Wearing regular underwear under these compression pants will cause friction against the skin during exercise and will also reveal underwear lines. Using this as an excuse, I replaced all of my wife's underwear with thinner, sexier styles. The old bras and panties I discarded filled a whole supermarket shopping bag. I was really struggling with what to do with all of my wife's "used" underwear. Throwing them directly into the trash seemed wasteful, but I couldn't actually sell them to those used underwear enthusiasts. While I was hesitating, the doorbell rang. It was the familiar delivery guy delivering a package. As usual, it was clothes my wife had bought on Taobao. I had a sudden idea. After signing for it, I pretended to be embarrassed and asked the delivery guy to help me throw away the trash. I added that it was just some old clothes, not heavy.

Usually, the delivery guy would bring the trash bag by the door downstairs, and today he readily accepted the plastic bag I handed him and turned to go downstairs. The delivery guy has been delivering packages in our neighborhood for two or three years, coming every few days. Every time my wife signs for the package, she always sneaks a few glances. A beauty like Bai Lu is something you only see on TV, so it's no wonder the delivery guy stares at her so intently. I'm sure he'll eventually succumb to his curiosity and open the plastic bag to see the "old clothes" inside. Her underwear rubs against her vulva every day, stained with her bodily secretions, tightly hugging her peach-like white buttocks. Her bra is soaked with her body odor, and the size tag reveals her figure perfectly. I imagine the delivery guy's expression when he opens the plastic bag and sees the clothes, especially since these clothes are what the beautiful young woman he's been fantasizing about is wearing. He'll treasure them like precious gems. I wonder what he'll think when he sees my wife next time he delivers… Maybe next time I can arrange for her to dress more revealingly to open the door… I'm lost in endless fantasies… My wife is completely unaware of my little scheme, still dressing neatly for work every day, except her underwear is always the sexy new style I bought her. At first, I felt a little uncomfortable wearing them, but the new underwear was all high-end, combining beauty and comfort, something no woman who loves beauty could resist. On the other hand, my wife has a full bottom; her old, conservative underwear, while fitting the waist, would be too small for the hips and leave visible marks on tight skirts and pants. The new thongs don't have this problem, and my wife has gradually gotten used to the feeling of her buttocks directly contacting her clothing.

Another change in my wife is that she's become a little more relaxed in bed, no longer passively receiving what she used to. Occasionally, she'll tell me about her feelings. Since experiencing the ultimate pleasure of her G-spot being stimulated by a penis, she has a little anticipation every time we have sex. She's gradually come to enjoy the feeling of actively controlling her orgasm in the woman-on-top position, and the frequency of our sex life has increased from once a month to about once a week. Unfortunately, the intense orgasm we had in America has never happened to my wife again, and she has never allowed me to ejaculate inside her without a condom.

Every time my wife writhes on top of me in the cowgirl position, I'm captivated by her cowgirl-like allure. When her breasts and buttocks flush and she's about to climax, I deliberately bring up our past experience in America. Although she's busy writhing and moaning, too shy to respond to my verbal stimulation, her vagina always tightens, and her climax comes faster...

I know that after experiencing that ultimate climax from being spied on by a man, even if she's ashamed to recall it, she'll subconsciously keep reliving that unprecedented pleasure. This pleasure is always accompanied by the shame of being exposed to another man's gaze and the fear of feeling wanton. To achieve my goal of cuckolding my wife, I need to reinforce this connection between climax and shame, establishing a conditioned reflex, while also giving her a sense of security so she can gradually open up and accept new sexual practices.

Besides verbal stimulation, I also tried filming our lovemaking. My wife initially resisted, always pushing my phone away, but I assured her it was just for adding spice to our sex life, and learning from the experience of a certain Mr. Chen, I guaranteed the photos' safety. She then reluctantly complied.

I started by watching her undress, greedily savoring every detail of her from the phone's camera lens.

Her delicate hands gently unbuttoned each button of her shirt, revealing a thin platinum necklace around her neck, below which was a black CK front-opening half-cup bra, further emphasizing her snow-white skin.

Her flat, firm abdomen, her black pencil skirt slowly slipping down, revealing low-waisted black stockings, partially showing through a black bikini bottom. She rolled up the stockings, revealing her snow-white legs one by one.

The camera angle changed; my wife was now pushed down on the bed, a hard penis protruding from below the screen, half-pressed against her perineum, which was only covered by a two-finger-wide strip of cloth.

A close-up of her buttocks, full and alluring, with a slight dampness visible at the crotch of her panties. A hand slips into the frame, half-pulling down her panties, revealing a glimpse of her vulva, her plump labia slightly parted.

Another penis is inserted, this time nestled between her red lips, her cheeks sunken, the shaft almost completely inside.

Bras and underwear are scattered on the bed, next to an opened Okamoto 003 box.

Her beautiful legs are spread wide at 180 degrees, a penis thrusting in and out between her thighs, the image blurred to the point of being indistinct.

The camera pans upwards, revealing a pair of well-proportioned, white, and round breasts being roughly kneaded, her small, pointed chin partially exposed.

A close-up of the area where their waists and hips meet—a pool of white, cloudy liquid almost spilling from her lower back, a soft condom lying on her waist…

I kept savoring the photos accumulating in my phone's album, but I couldn't suppress the urge to share them with my beloved wife. Finally, one night, while my wife was away on a business trip reporting on her research, I inexplicably turned on my computer and joined a couples' dating group. With trembling hands, I uploaded the photos to the group.

These groups were a mixed bag; there were real couples, but also single men outnumbered couples by more than ten, and scammers who tricked others into providing nude photos under the guise of exchanging pictures. I carefully removed all the recognizable details, leaving only the most naked and lewd flesh.

Shortly after uploading, the icon for the IM software at the bottom of my computer screen started flashing wildly. Clicking on it revealed messages asking if I needed single men. I could almost smell the strong stench of semen from the internet cable.

This was the result I was happy to see. Although it was impossible to simply offer my wife to a complete stranger, I still replied to each message, engaging in half-truthful, half-fake conversations, enjoying the various fantasies in my mind about my wife being enjoyed by others. This guilt, mixed with excitement, burned like a bonfire in my groin.

Suddenly, my wife's avatar flashed. In that instant, I almost felt that my perverted behavior had been exposed. I quickly closed all the chat windows except for my wife's, which I clicked on.

"Waaaaah, I'm so ashamed!!"

"Huh? What happened, honey?"

"Why are you asking me! It's all because you insisted on taking those shameful photos. Xiaoyu saw them just now!" Xiaoyu's full name was Guyu. He was my junior from undergraduate days, in the same major and in the same club, and we'd always had a good relationship. After graduating with his master's degree this year, I recommended him to interview at the company where my wife worked. Unexpectedly, he was directly hired and put into the same department as my wife, with her directly mentoring him.

Gu Yu is from the South. He's not tall, but fair-skinned, with delicate features and a eloquent tongue. Although he's the same age as my wife, he always calls her "Sister Bai" in public and "Sister-in-law" in private, showing a very close relationship. Gu Yu is quick-witted and capable at work, highly valued by his department head. This time, my wife went on a business trip with the department head and Gu Yu.

"Ah? What's wrong, Xiao Yu? What did you see?" I immediately understood, but pretended to be clueless and typed three question marks.

My wife found the company-issued laptop too heavy for this business trip, so she borrowed my Apple laptop. Gu Yu must have seen the photos synced between the computer and phone! The phone is full of my wife's nude photos! My

blood rushed to my head. I had just been fantasizing about my wife with a group of anonymous men, and now her private photos had been seen by a mutual acquaintance!

"Honey, don't rush, tell me slowly. How did he see it? Maybe you're mistaken." "Waaaah... I just called him out to discuss tomorrow's report. I was using your old laptop to play the slideshow. Halfway through, my boss called me away. When I came back, I found that many pictures had been opened, and Xiaoyu was gone... Waaaaah... I can't go to him and ask if you looked through the photos on my computer... It's all your fault!"

"Which photos were opened? Don't worry, honey, none of them show your face!" "I'm so embarrassed, I don't care which ones were viewed! Anyway, it's those photos you took a few days ago... Waaaaah... I... I've been seen naked!"

I thought to myself, it's not like it's the first time I've been seen naked. I quickly comforted my wife: "Don't worry, none of them recognize you. Xiaoyu probably thinks these are pornographic photos I downloaded from some random website. We're all men, we're used to it."

"I don't care, I don't care, it's all your fault! You have to find a way to explain yourself! How am I supposed to face Xiaoyu after this…"

I readily agreed, and spent a long time trying to calm my wife down. Finally, I made a phone call to get Bailu to sleep. Back at my computer, I couldn't resist pulling out the last pack of Zhongnanhai cigarettes I'd kept from quitting before our marriage. I lit one and put it in my mouth, but it tasted like damp old newspapers. My mind was a jumbled mess, a mixture of joy and sorrow.

After thinking for a while, I stubbed out the cigarette, secretly making a decision. It seemed I needed to accelerate my wife-cultivation process.

Although I enjoyed sharing photos of my wife, the stimulation felt dry and weak, like the stale smoke I'd just inhaled. I wanted something more intense, more dangerous, more reckless—something like strong liquor, something like marijuana,… even something as addictive as opium… My brain was completely consumed by lust.

[The End]

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