[A True Account of Marital Incest] (Chapters 1-4 (Part 1)) Author: Perfect Man

A True Account of Marital Incest

Author: Excellent Man
Layout: tim118
Words: 32212
txt Package: [attach]1662722[/attach]

Chapter 1 My Wife's Ex-Boyfriend

I am not good at expressing my feelings, and I feel embarrassed about intimacy between husband and wife. So, when
there are outsiders, I always solemnly and properly refuse her intimate actions, making my wife always think that I don't love
her.

I always feel that love should be in the heart. The "love" that is said every day may not be true love. Don't
those smooth-talking playboys often say this word? But how many of them are sincere?

But my wife obviously doesn't see it that way.

When my wife was dating, perhaps because I didn't care enough about her, she
wavered between me and another man and even threw herself into that man's arms.

I have met this man before. He is my wife's colleague, in the same office. He is from Guangdong, thin, not very
tall, wears small glasses, and has a relatively large mouth. To be honest, he is not good-looking.

I'd also inquired about him indirectly; he was several years older than me. Perhaps he had some money, and being a local, he was quite
adept at charming girls. I heard he'd already been involved with several naive young women at my wife's company.

My wife often said that when I didn't care about her, she'd bring up how that guy used egg whites and honey to treat her neck
skin condition. But back then, I was quite confident and didn't care much, firstly because we'd already slept together (now
I realize how immature I was), and secondly because I didn't believe she'd be so foolish as to fall for such a trick.

But ultimately, my wife couldn't resist the temptation of his sweet talk, and while I was away on a business trip
for two months , she slept with that man.

Those days were nothing short of dark; anyone who's experienced heartbreak or a lover's infidelity
can understand.

Just a few incidents will show you how I felt.

I needed two sleeping pills every night to fall asleep.

Sometimes at work, I couldn't help but run to the bathroom to cry. Once, I cried so hard on the rooftop that I almost fell
off .

I went to that man's dormitory with a kitchen knife and slashed a hole in the thin metal door. I

waited for her outside my wife's dormitory all night, even though it rained all night, without an umbrella.

Although I was heartbroken, I didn't give up and do nothing. I tried to outdo that man with patience,
care, and love, even though these weren't my strong suits.

I wrote a diary, intending to give it to my wife when I finished. Unfortunately, after discovering that my wife had gone to that
man's again, I took back everything I had given her—shoes, clothes, including the diary—and
threw it in the trash in front of her. One of the poems is a poignant one:

A woman came today,

a kind and warm-hearted auntie. She

learned of my recent situation

and gently comforted me. I tried

my best to appear indifferent

, hoping she wouldn't be too sad

, or feel too sorry for me.

I liked hearing her say,

"You're a good girl."

But perhaps she doesn't know,

I'm not a good boy. My wife

is not romantic,

not gentle enough

, and cannot share

her lover's sorrows.

No woman who comes with me

will feel happy ,

and you certainly won't.

Even though in my heart , I still 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　think of you

so passionately 　　. My wife's close friends almost unanimously sided with me, speaking frankly and logically, acting as my advocates. But my wife always wavered between me and that man, secretly maintaining relationships with both of us. 　　I forgave her again and again, and she betrayed me again and again for this man, but in the end, we still got together. To be honest, when I finally agreed to forgive her, I was determined to destroy her with revenge. 　　Things took an unexpected turn. Her kindness towards me and the arrival of our son, thanks to her stubborn insistence, not only prevented me from abandoning her, but I even urged her to get a marriage . Afterwards, we never mentioned her past, afraid of hurting each other. It was as if nothing had ever happened . 　　Our sex life became mundane, but we never stopped having sex. Except for three brief separations, we had sex almost every day when we were together. 　　There were times (and still are) when I only browsed cuckoldry articles online, fantasizing about my wife being fucked to death by other men, especially those with particularly thick, long penises, bulging veins, and a shiny black , thrusting in and out of my wife's wet, juicy vagina, scraping the tender flesh inside, truly making me hard as iron. 　　I remember it was me who initiated bringing up that person again; it was during a routine sexual encounter. 　　I thrust my entire penis into my wife's vagina, trembling with excitement at the question I was about to ask. 　　My wife sensed my emotions and arched her body, responding eagerly. 　　"Is it good?" I asked her breathlessly, thrusting rapidly and violently. I didn't want to ask her this question while she was fully conscious , to avoid embarrassment and to prevent getting angry. 　　"It's...it's so good...ah...oh...fuck me to death!" My wife was a little incoherent, her expression somewhat dazed. 　　"It's good...right?...Is it better than when he fucks you?" I clearly heard a gurgling sound in my own throat.

She managed to utter those words with difficulty, while her thrusting speed noticeably increased.

"It feels better than him... ah..." my wife answered excitedly, without any hesitation or shame, so straightforward
it hurt me a little. And I could feel her vaginal walls tighten and tremble.

"Have you compared me to that other guy a lot already?... I'll fuck you to death, you slut..." I
excitedly thrust into her twice more, driven by a desire for revenge. Damn it, I hadn't even mentioned who he was, and she was already thinking of
him, her pussy reacting so strongly. She probably thought it was someone else's dick inside her cunt right now.

My wife, oblivious to my change, moaned lasciviously, "So good...husband, you're the best now
...fuck me to death...uh...fuck me faster..."

"Whose cock is bigger?"

"Yours..."

"Who fucks you better?"

"Yours is better..."

"Doesn't he fuck you better?" I hoisted my wife's legs onto my shoulders, and thrust my cock in three times in quick succession,
plunging it all the way into her overflowing vagina. With each thrust, the water splashed everywhere, accompanied by a chorus of moans.

My wife struggled to speak, her words broken and fragmented, "No...ah...good...good...I'm dying
..."

"Does he fuck you this well too?" I withdrew my cock from her warm vagina once more, then, like
a pile driver on a construction site, rammed it back in.

My wife let out a comfortable "Oh," moaning, "He didn't fuck me well, not at all... Husband,
you fuck me well... Husband... I can't live without you... Ah..." She struggled to lift her head and reach out her arms
to hug me, but I didn't let go of her legs. Finally, she cried out helplessly, her hands
squeezing her two plump white breasts tightly together from both sides.

"He didn't fuck me well, and you still let him fuck you so many times? Ah, you slut, are you that horny?"

"I'm bewitched... Husband... I'll never let
another ... Ah... Husband... My cunt... Ah... is yours alone... So good..."

"Your cunt has been fucked to pieces by other dicks, and you still say it's mine alone?" I sat up and down wildly, my hips moving wildly with a somewhat perverse
pleasure. Every smooth penetration was so pleasurable, so exhilarating.

"So, your husband... can only use this rotten cunt? Hmm... fuck... fuck you to death, you rotten cunt." I
was panting heavily.

"..." My wife's legs were pressed against her chest, her buttocks raised high, her body in a U-shape. Under
my rapid thrusts, she was already out of breath: "Oh... my... cunt... is being... fucked to pieces

... fucked to pieces... ah... fucked to death..."

I was running out of energy, my mind blank as if I were lacking oxygen. I hadn't done much exercise in the past two years, and
my body was not as good as before. It had been at least forty-five minutes since I entered her, and this intense piston-like movement
was too exhausting.

I spread her legs apart, and then covered her warm, soft flesh with my whole body. Just
like when I was tired during sex before, my wife hugged me tightly. Her back, her legs drawn together, and with her seamless cooperation
, the thrusting of her hips never faltered, though each penetration wasn't as thorough or fierce as before.

I like to use this traditional missionary position when I'm exhausted and my wife isn't satisfied

. Except for the hip movements, the whole body remains relaxed and at ease. Although
my wife might suspect me of being lazy or just going through the motions, she also enjoys this method.

My wife slowly recovered from the earlier frenzy and began to feel sorry for me: "Honey...take
a ...take a break before we go again..." She writhed around me like a snake aroused by lust.

I was indeed a little tired and lay still on top of her. My wife immediately wrapped her legs around my
buttocks , her arms tightly wrapped around me, as if afraid my penis would leave her vagina. Her lower body pulsed, sometimes tight, sometimes
loose, biting and chewing my shaft.

I rubbed my cheek against her earlobe: "Have you two fucked a hundred times?" I was surprised
at how . I remembered the first time I found out she'd spent the night at that guy's place, I'd gone there with a
kitchen knife in my pocket. But now, aside from my voice being a little distorted with excitement, I didn't hold any resentment
towards .

"Mmm, you're so annoying..." My wife slapped my butt and started wriggling.

"Have you?" My butt started moving.

"No..." My wife hugged me tighter.

"Then how many times?"

"..." My wife seemed to hesitate.

"Honey, just tell me, I won't be angry." I said, increasing the speed of my thrusts.

"Four...five times...ah..." Under the pressure of my penis, my wife got into the mood again.

"Definitely more than five times, you better tell me the truth! You slut, I'll fuck you to death!" Hearing her say it herself,
I was both excited and a little angry, thrusting into her hard.

"Really...it wasn't more than five times...ah...so good...hurry up and fuck me...husband..."

"I don't believe you." I stopped moving: "If you don't tell the truth, I'm not doing it anymore."

"Really, husband, just five times...please, fuck me quickly, fuck me...husband...I can't take it anymore
." My wife gritted her teeth and endured, her whole body burning hot.

"Was it your own choice, or did he force you?" Of course I knew she had entered his house and slept with
him , but I still hoped to hear her say something else.

"..."

"You did it your own choice...right?"

"..."

"Right?" I pulled my penis away from her vaginal opening and stopped.

"Yes..." She quickly grabbed my buttocks with both hands.

Before she finished speaking, I suddenly thrust in: "You stinking bitch, you actually spread your cunt and let someone fuck you!
I'm going to fuck you to death today...fuck, I'm going to fuck your stinking cunt raw...do you still dare to let some random man fuck you? Huh?"
I thrust wildly.

"I won't dare again, husband... I'll never dare again... let some other man fuck me... you almost
fucked me to death by yourself... it felt so good... ahh... my pussy is all ripped apart." The wife arched her body, her head
moving constantly.

I couldn't hold back any longer. An intense wave of pleasure surged uncontrollably into my brain. I
held her swaying head firmly in my hands, slamming my hips against her with all my might.

One, two, three, finally plunging deep inside her: "I'm coming... I'm coming... Ouch... Ouch..." I
trembled, my mind went blank again, I lost consciousness. One, two, three, with each powerful
thrust of my penis, streams of semen erupted like a volcano, sizzling against the walls of her vagina.

My wife's mouth was open but she couldn't make a sound, only swallowing repeatedly, gurgling
sounds coming from her throat.

The intense orgasm lasted for nearly a minute before I collapsed weakly onto my wife, panting. My wife clung to me like
an octopus moaning "Husband, husband" while
frantically licking my face.

Every time the game ended, I wanted to lie down and rest as soon as possible, but my wife never wanted to let me go so quickly. Not
only did she not allow me to pull out of her vagina immediately, she forced me to climb on top of her and hug her, and she would talk to me for a while before she was done
.

After her orgasm subsided, I lifted my buttocks and pulled my penis out of her wet, slippery hole. My wife reluctantly
let go, and I was finally able to turn over and lie flat on the bed. My wet penis was still
erect .

This was unusual; it would happen after ejaculating when I was particularly energetic, but today was clearly
an exception.

My wife also seemed quite tired. Unlike usual, she didn't get up to wipe the mess from her genitals. She lay there lazily, her
high breasts rising and falling with her gradually calming breaths, her face flushed like a peach blossom.

A few unintentional glances exchanged, the uninhibited and unrestrained words during sex made us both feel somewhat
embarrassed and awkward. My wife didn't pester me to talk as usual, and turned over to lie with her back to me.

Without the direct pressure of a face-to-face confrontation, we were both immersed in the afterglow of our passionate encounter. My
previous reluctance to bring up this topic wasn't entirely due to magnanimity; as the one who had been hurt, I
felt a deep sense of guilt for my wife. If I didn't bring it up, she certainly wouldn't reveal her shortcomings
. Today, I took the initiative to break this taboo, and unexpectedly, it didn't create any psychological
barriers . Instead, it rekindled the passion in our otherwise bland sex life.

We hadn't made love and enjoyed ourselves so wildly in so long.

Looking at my wife's curvaceous, smooth waist as she lay on her side, my heart was filled with love. I rolled over and
embraced her. She lifted her head slightly, and my left arm reached under her neck to grasp one of her large breasts.

What had to be faced had to be faced eventually. I turned my wife's face towards me: "Was it comfortable?"

My wife closed her eyes shyly: "Comfortable..."

I kissed her lips. She struggled a few times but then accepted, and even more passionately sucked on my
saliva and tongue.

After finally managing to break free, my wife's alluring eyes, filled with tenderness, blinked as she gazed at me. "Honey,
I feel so good. How about you?"

"Me too." I gently stroked her as I said, "...Tell me how he did it, okay?"

"What's there to say..." My wife shyly buried her head in my chest. "It's all the same, what's there to talk about
?"

"Tell me, it's okay." I encouraged her. "It's been so long, I've long since let it go." "

Really? You don't hate me at all anymore?" My wife asked, tilting her head up.

"Really, I've come to terms with it. Just think of it as my bicycle being stolen, ridden around, and then found again!" I
said with a laugh, teasingly.

"You're the broken bicycle..." My wife playfully punched my waist and retorted.

The atmosphere became lively, and we slowly began to talk about her and that man.

I asked her if he enjoyed it? How did he do it? Who was on top? Had she ever sucked his cock? Once
she let loose, she had no more reservations and answered whatever I asked. We never mentioned the man's
name , but we both understood.

She said his penis was very big and long, like a donkey's. He always went in very deep, never
fully inside, and it never felt as good as with me because it hurt her a little. There was only one position:
he was on top. He lasted a long time, sometimes all night. She had touched his penis but never sucked on it. He
only ejaculated inside her vagina, unlike me, who ejaculated everywhere.

We were both very excited during the conversation. I had my wife turn over so I could penetrate her again.

I asked her again whether his big penis or my small penis was better. She said the big one had its advantages, for example,
she liked me to hold her after an orgasm and penetrate her from behind. Because mine was shorter,
it wasn't very hard afterward, and it would slip out after a little movement. His wouldn't; it would stay in all night
and wouldn't go soft.

She said they had only really done it five or six times in total, not the hundreds I had imagined.

Listening to my wife describe her lover's impressive size, imagining his thick, black penis
thrusting in and out of her willingly open vagina without restraint, jealousy and lust alternated, burning my penis until it was hard and swollen . I frantically
thrust into her vagina, releasing my pent-up desire.

Finally, under my frenzied manipulation, my wife reached her third orgasm, and I also ejaculated, utterly exhausted.

Afterwards, my wife said tenderly, "I still like yours. It's just the right size for me,
and it made me feel so good!"

I began to believe her words.

About two weeks later, during a conversation during a woman-on-top sexual encounter, I began to doubt her.

At that time, she straddled my lap, holding my neck, her buttocks rising and falling, swallowing and releasing deeply.
When she fell, she gripped my penis tightly and would rub back and forth a couple of times. She exhaled and said, "It's too deep, my pussy
is numb, it feels so good!"

I squeezed her two full breasts hard and asked her, "Is it better if it's deep or shallow?"

She said, "Deep is better."

I asked her, "Is he deeper or am I deeper?"

My wife truthfully answered that he was deeper. I slapped her buttocks, full of jealousy, "Then why did you say he was
n't satisfied? You slut, are you trying to embarrass your husband?"

My wife, as if her secret had been exposed, shyly pressed her two mounds of breasts against my face and rubbed them hard: "He's too deep..."
"You only know pain, how can you enjoy it?"

I grabbed her buttocks with both hands and pressed her hard against my penis. "Didn't you tell him not to go in
too deep?"

"He likes it, what can I do?" My wife swayed her plump buttocks, her lower body a muddy mess.

"You little slut, risking your life for your lover?! I think you're just asking for it, you need a good fuck! Aren't you?" I lifted my buttocks
and thrust hard into her.

My wife was caught off guard, her body was lifted up, and with a "pop," my penis left her vagina. When it fell, it didn't
align with the opening and went back in, sliding down to her buttocks.

My wife cried out, reached down and grabbed the slippery penis, aligned it with her opening, and with a "plop,"

sat down again. "Trying to run away... I haven't had enough yet..."

"Not enough? Then go find your big-dicked lover! You're such a slut, your cunt doesn't grow hair..." I
thrust her, cursing her with a hint of jealousy and a hidden expectation.

"I want yours, yours is the best for me." My wife moved wildly, ignoring my pleas, making my genitals
ache .

I stopped talking, gripping her buttocks with both hands, pulling in and out forcefully.

Once the taboo was broken, we often talked about this man during sex, each time making us excited
and wild , hard and stimulating, with our juices flying everywhere.

I asked her if she wanted to try the taste of a big cock again, and she said she wanted to. I said, "Then go find
him and let him fuck you again." She said, "No, I won't do it with that man again." I said, "
It's okay , we've done it so many times already, one more or one less won't make a big difference." She still
firmly disagreed. I also promised that I wouldn't despise her and would love her even more, but she still didn't agree.

I don't know if, if she really agreed, I would really do what I promised: give her a bath
, spray her with perfume, comb her pubic hair, help her put on sexy lingerie and an elegant business suit,
and then see her out the door.

A man who has never been cuckolded will probably never understand this feeling—the burning
sensation that makes it hard to breathe, causing heartache and madness, yet also fueling a surge of lust.

It's true, in any situation—whether it's arguing, being intimate, or discussing sex—as soon as my wife
mentions her husband's large penis, I instantly become erect and consumed by lust. My wife was initially surprised,
using this to stimulate me when she needed it but I wasn't, and it always worked, leaving her weak
and begging for mercy.

However, she firmly opposes any further contact with that man. While slightly disappointed, I felt a sense of relief.

If she had agreed, and they got back together, who could guarantee they wouldn't rekindle their old flame and crave more
?

Besides, that man isn't married yet; I think no woman would ignore that, regardless of
her own reasons.

My wife is more rational than me; she didn't risk it for greed. Our son is so adorable, our family so
wonderful —why destroy it?

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[A True Account of Marital Incest] (Chapters 1-4 (Part 1)) Author: Perfect Man

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