The cartoonist's wife

My wife has never been very sexually aroused. It's basically a formality; she'll just go through the motions, let out a couple of symbolic moans, and that's it. No matter how much I coax or plead, she won't let me touch her anus or

give her oral sex. It's not very satisfying. In my life, the pleasure I get from masturbation far outweighs the emotional pleasure my wife gives me in bed.

My wife isn't talkative. Whenever I'm working, she always stands silently behind me, gently resting her delicate chin on my head, her hands on my shoulders. I always say she acts like a mother hen, and she just smiles, gently pressing my shoulders to relieve my fatigue.

Her large breasts gently rub against my cervical spine. She knows very well that her body can drive any man crazy, but she seems to prefer emotional satisfaction. Sexual intercourse

, the feeling, isn't important to her.

My wife is conservative; all the short skirts I buy for her to wear, she keeps and never wears. She only likes a pair of old white socks, which I gave her one winter, and I never expected that after all these years, she would still have them.

It's a pity your husband seems a bit frivolous, though of course I dare not show it.

I'm afraid of defiling this gentle, water-like woman.

"Honey, do you think these earrings are pretty?"

My wife ran up to me, putting on a pair of earrings. The platinum and diamond-encrusted earrings bloomed like roses, adding a touch of starlight to her gentle, water-like face. Her lips always held a smile, her nose was straight but not protruding, and her two jewel-like eyes adorned the whole picture. Her lowered eyelids diffused the radiance to her brows, and her easily styled short black hair accentuated her budding beauty. Only by looking through that unfathomable cleavage could one glimpse this beautiful sight.

My wife isn't the skinny type; whether large or thin, it's either implants or something else entirely.

Her curves were perfectly preserved; her legs were full yet not bloated, and her feet, constantly moisturized with pure milk and essential oils, appeared exceptionally white and tender without a childlike innocence. Mature toes were adorned with expensive nail polish, each toe a simple ink painting—any desecration would be a desecration of this beauty.

Her alluring waistline meandered to her ample buttocks, the equally unfathomable cleft beckoning one to explore its secret anus. The perfectly proportioned pubic hair couldn't conceal her plump vulva; within that crevice lay my lost youth.

I utterly cannot understand why this body, so alluring to men and envied by women, would elicit such a reaction in bed—it's less exciting to fuck her than to pound into her thugs.

"My Ye Zhumu is the prettiest!" Her name comes from being raised bathed in dazzling pearls. "So, promise your husband you'll try wearing black stockings?" "How could you be so naughty? I won't fall for your tricks. How about this, I'll wear them for your birthday later this year, okay?" My wife moved closer, gently stroking my cheek. "I know, my husband loves seeing me in short skirts, but I'm still not used to being so revealing. But I promise I'll wear them for you, so please bear with me for a while." I opened my arms and pulled my wife into my embrace, gently patting her back. "My dear wife, no rush, no rush. If you don't want to, then forget it." "Yes, I love you the most, husband." She has never refused my requests, never, even though she doesn't like being naked, even though she doesn't like it, even though she instinctively resists my suggestions.

But for so many years, she has always responded to me.

I never believed before that there was someone in this world who only shared my joys and sorrows.

My wife had finished preparing dinner, and I had just picked up my chopsticks when a piece of my favorite braised pork was placed in my bowl. I was both amused and exasperated. I shoveled the rice into my mouth; the pork was so tender, it melted in my mouth with a gentle bite, the subtle oils mixing with the rice, making my mouth water.

My wife looked at me, her eyes melting with love.

I pretended not to notice and said smugly, "Can you stop looking at me like a mother? Eat your food, eat your food, or I'll eat it all." "It's okay, I'll make you more, as much as I want." Hearing those words, I felt like I was back in that winter.

It was a winter where even breathing hurt. My parents had both fallen into debt, and I, at twenty, had used a huge sum of money to pay off equally inexplicable debts, leaving me with only a house that looked like a bare shell.

Unable to breathe, I wanted to end it all, so I jumped into that lake.

It was a pair of warm touches that awakened me. It was a face filled with panic, a face that tugged at my heartstrings. She, still so young and inexperienced, somehow managed to pull me up. Large, crystal-like tears streamed down her face; they must have been scalding hot,

enough to burn a heartless wretch like me to death.

I asked her why she saved me.

She said, "I don't know why I shouldn't have."

Kind and brave, she redeemed me with her most sincere tears.

I said, "How can I repay you?"

She answered sincerely, "I'm hungry."

This girl was genuinely adorable.

She really was hungry. My cooking skills are poor, and in our destitute home, I could only manage to cook two radishes by borrowing the stove. Yet she ate with such relish, as if she'd never tasted radish soup before.

I instinctively said, "Eat slowly. I'll make you more when you're done. I'll make as much as I want." From then on, two wanderers found warmth in each other's company.

Later I learned that she had secretly run away to have fun. As the darling daughter of the prestigious Ye family, she naturally couldn't afford the simple fare of a commoner. That day, she was wandering the streets, hungry, and had spent all her money on entertainment. Just as she was about to return home in a sorry state, she saw me attempting suicide and jumped after me without a second thought… Now, she is my wife. Her family would absolutely forbid her from associating with someone like me, but she ran away again and came with me to another unfamiliar city to support my dream of becoming a comic artist.

One day, I was browsing various comics online, searching for inspiration. Several trending keywords caught my eye: "NTR," "cuckoldry," and "green hat." As an experienced user, I naturally understood what they meant—it's about one's beloved wife being with another man.

But this time was a little different. The first comment read, "Brother Gongba is ecstatic," and curiosity drove me to click on it.

The artwork was mediocre, but the story was thrilling. It was about a painter who, having lost his inspiration and struggling to make ends meet, lent his wife out, selling her paintings for a pittance. However, in the end, his wife was brutally raped, reduced to nothing more than a toilet, and the painter was humiliated to death by her.

At that moment, I felt something crack inside me. I suddenly longed to see my own wife become like the one in the comic, to be that painter.

What was wrong with me?

Destroy everything beautiful.

This thought flashed through my mind, taking root deep within. My mind was filled with images of my wife, her large breasts exposed, being brutally violated, her face contorted in pain, incontinence—all images of her frenziedly ravaging other men.

I'd never been so hard. I thought, "If reality can't satisfy me, then fantasizing will do." The door behind me opened, but I didn't notice.

"Honey, what...what are you looking at?"

My wife's panicked voice came from behind me.

I jumped back in fright, instantly switching the page, and, with my bulging tent in my pants, lied to my wife, "It's nothing, just some reference material." My wife's proper upbringing allowed her to quickly regain her composure, and she said apologetically, "I'm sorry, honey, I scared you. Did you hurt yourself?" I hurriedly turned my wrist to the side, "It's okay, it's okay, I was just overreacting. I'm so glad I didn't scare you."... The night passed without incident. My dreams were filled with my wife's image. Her hands were tied behind her back, her large breasts, thighs, and buttocks were covered in dirty graffiti written in dark shadows, and a bottle of deadly beer was stuck in her vagina with a huge white radish inside. I couldn't see her expression. This shocking scene woke me up like a nightmare. I gasped for breath. My wife woke up too, holding my head with a pained expression, gently stroking it.

"Wife, I dreamt you didn't want me anymore,"

I said, my voice trembling with tears.

My wife whispered in my ear, "Silly boy, even if you abandon me, I won't abandon you. I could hold your hand once in the water, and I can hold it a second time. Where else can I find such a good husband? You've never forced me, have you?" I've never hated myself so much for being so filthy.

The next day, I tidied myself up and went to work. I work at an animation media company, and because of my decent drawing skills, I'm doing quite well, except for the 996 work schedule during Children's Day and Chinese New Year.

When I got home from work, I saw a light coming from my room.

"Damn it, something's wrong!"

I saw my wife sitting in front of my computer, staring blankly at the screen, not even noticing I was home. On the screen was a woman's body, tattered, obscene graffiti, covered in countless black dots... that damned comic! My wife slowly turned around, staring at me with wide eyes. I had never seen her with such an expression before. Fear crept up my spine, and I quickly stammered, "No, it's not that, I just..." "Honey, you don't have to say it," my wife said, her usual gentle tone returning. "Liking something isn't illegal. What I care about is you. You can only go as far as you like it. It's always been like this, honey, I'm sorry..." A slender finger gently touched my lips, and I immediately pulled the poor thing into my arms, apologizing repeatedly, "I'm sorry, Mu, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." That incident cast a shadow over my heart, but my wife, as always, cooked my favorite braised pork and took care of everything for me.

Half a year passed in the blink of an eye.

Today is my birthday, and birthday breakfasts are always especially lavish. I opened the kitchen door as usual, greeting her with a good morning.

Before I could even utter the warm greeting, I was stunned by the look on my wife's face.

Today, she wore light makeup, and her rose earrings shimmered like starlight. She wore only a corset-style bra, the purple lace accentuating her trembling breasts, the deep cleavage seemingly drawing me in. Her

lower body was clad in a black mini-skirt, the extremely short hem barely concealing her voluptuous hips. Surprisingly, she wasn't wearing any underwear, only black pantyhose. The sheer black stockings featured a vintage-style center seam and back seam—playing the seductive game in such a sophisticated way? The back seam curved slightly at her hips, barely able to contain her ample bosom. The

back seam continued downwards, disappearing at her heels where black high heels were the perfect finishing touch! The leather perfectly encased her sexy feet, not too much, not too little, without any unnecessary embellishment. Against the backdrop of black, her feet appeared even smaller. This created an

extremely striking image: a sexy woman in a short skirt, black stockings, with voluptuous breasts and a large bottom, standing naked before me in tiny high heels! Is this my wife?

"Hey, this is your birthday present. Okay, stop looking and go wash your hands and eat." My wife, unlike her usual reserved self, blushed and boldly showed herself off.

I ate breakfast with a tent in my pants, and was about to take them off when my wife grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bedroom... "What? You want to switch wives and have sex with me?" I grinned mischievously.

"You bad boy, I have something important to tell my husband,"

my wife pulled down my pants, and a pair of cool, white hands grasped mine: "Honey, this is something I learned online, it's called handjob, are you happy?" I grimaced as I endured the pleasure from her small hands, pretending to cry: "My Mu, you've finally grown up! Today is your birthday, I want to celebrate for you! 55555..." "Hmph, I've put in some effort, I have another present, come closer." My wife seemed to have made a big decision, giving me a handjob while beckoning me.

"What's the good news?"

I asked excitedly.

A breath of hot air brushed against my ear, almost making me lose control. My wife spoke slowly, as if announcing something important: "I... I've decided to help my husband realize his dream~" "You can't even draw comics, how can you help?" I said, both amused and exasperated.

"My wife, I'll be letting other men fuck me from now on." A strange voice entered my ear.

"What are you saying?"

My heart was pounding. The shock of being told about "nTR" made me go limp.

The strange yet familiar voice continued: "I'm not lying to my husband. From now on, I won't belong to my husband anymore, my butt won't belong to my husband anymore, and my breasts... they can't be anymore. Just like in that comic, it's possible that my feet, my hands, everything I have, won't belong to my husband anymore~" "No!" I shouted, looking up at my wife.

It was a face so pitiful it was heartbreaking. Tears blurred her delicate eyelashes, her eyes filled with fear, but her teeth were tightly clenched, fighting against the terror.

I remembered the face I had once saved.

"Don't cry, honey, my dear wife. I know I do have that kind of fetish, but I would never let you go down that path." My heart ached as I gently comforted my wife in my arms.

Wiping away her tear-streaked face, my usually gentle wife was terrifyingly stubborn: "Husband, I know I'm frigid and can't give you pleasure. I know how much you've endured for me. You used to be so outgoing, but now you keep everything bottled up inside. I can't be so selfish!" This courageous demeanor was perhaps her true self when she saved me that day—clearly terrified, yet utterly fearless.

"I'm not afraid. It might be very scary, but with my husband by my side, I'm not afraid." Often, such a gentle person can be incredibly stubborn about certain things.

"Honey, don't be sad, be happy, it's your birthday, be happy!" My wife grabbed my hand again, stroking it up and down, and said softly, "What you like isn't illegal. If you want it, just do it, just like I fell in love with you. If you need my help, I will definitely help you wholeheartedly. You gave me freedom, and I should give you freedom too, even if the price is high." With a cracking sound in my heart, my penis became erect again. Since that's how it is, I might as well give in. Holding it in until now is NTR, but who knows when it will explode.

I suddenly felt a sense of relief. The shackles of my youth had been broken. You saved me again, my good wife, but the price is yourself.

No, I can't think like that. If I think this is my wife's atonement, then I will fall back into that stagnant state.

"Thank you."

I rubbed my wife's large breasts with my hands.

"Ah..."

My wife let out a soft moan I had never heard before. At this moment, I was stunned.

"Honey, I'm sorry. I don't know why, but the thought of someone else having sex with me makes me feel so hot." My wife's face was flushed, and her eyes were filled with apology.

I felt relieved; it was all destined. My pleasure kept rising, and a thick stream of semen shot onto my wife's fleshy, black-stockinged thighs. I had never ejaculated so much before.

My wife let out a soft moan. She gently smoothed the product onto my skin with her slender fingers, the faint sheen reflecting in her moist eyes—tears of relief, perhaps. Her red lips parted slightly, uttering a question that thrilled me: "Honey, am I beautiful now?" When the sexuality of the soul and the beauty of the body intertwine, it is the most beautiful sight!

"Beautiful, my wife Ye Zhumu is the most beautiful!"

My wife stood up, facing me, and straddled me, spreading her beautiful silk-clad legs.

Holy crap?! She's so wet? Even through the pungent smell of her vagina, I could feel the sticky dampness.

My wife wrapped her left arm around my head, rubbing her wetness against my penis, and my little brother quickly regained its vigor.

"Do you like a wife like this, honey?"

My wife hid her eyes and asked me shyly, "Am I very slutty?" I replied happily, "Slutty, incredibly slutty, you're a little slut! But I like it, I just like it." "I think you're so domineering right now, honey, but your wife is about to be enjoyed by someone else." My wife looked at me with interest, picked up her phone with her left hand, and opened a chat history. "Honey, this person has been harassing me for a long time, saying every day that he'll use his big...penis to fuck my...my slutty...account. What do you think, should I send myself to him to fuck?" "Wife, I'll do whatever you say." Even at this moment, I still felt a little uncomfortable.

"No, I can only listen to my husband. I'm giving myself to my husband, I can't face this alone." My wife became serious.

I opened the chat history. This person named Ding Wei only sent a half-naked photo. I could feel his terrifying muscles even through the screen. In his hands, my wife was like a cotton candy caught in a raging fire, afraid that she would be devoured in an instant.

But then again, only a handsome man like him could be worthy of my beautiful wife.

My trembling mouth was filled with something.

A "He's the one," was forced out.

"Okay, he's free this afternoon. I can finish my task and have dinner with my husband. I've already prepared braised pork." My wife got off me, her constantly adjusting her hands revealing her discomfort and unease about this.

"Tell him to wear a condom, one hour is fine."

I was still a little uneasy.

My wife smiled and said, "Don't worry, honey."

Time flew by, and it was almost afternoon, almost the agreed time. I saw a silver sedan parked downstairs; it was clearly not cheap.

My wife would get into that car and drive away.

My wife came out of the room and said to me, "If I dress like this, he won't be as interested in me." Huh? Isn't this the "sexually indifferent" three-piece set? A baggy hoodie covering her large breasts, loose casual pants concealing

her ample hips, and a pair of cheap sneakers, along with the ugly white cotton socks I gave her—the white socks protecting her beautiful feet. To be honest, even if she wore this and begged me to sleep with her, I wouldn't be interested. Only the ring on my wife's ring finger glittered, proclaiming her status as a married woman, perfectly complementing her sparkling earrings.

I asked, still worried, "Did he say anything else?"

"Hmm…I almost forgot."

My wife handed me a slip of paper with an address written on it.

She said, "He said to pick him up here if you're worried." I put the slip away, smiling, and said, "Good wife, shouldn't we go now?" "Yes, I'm off then." My wife masked her disappointment with a smile.

Suddenly, I cupped my wife's pretty face in my hands and kissed her hard with all the strength I had ever possessed.

My wife's disappointment vanished, and she returned to her usual gentle self, smiling as she turned and left.

A huge sense of loss washed over me; I felt like I had lost something.

I think I've lost my wife.

My phone vibrates, displaying a text from her: "I've always, always loved you, my dear boy. PS: I'll send you photos, okay? Don't masturbate too much. Love you." Ah... so, I never really lost her. She's always been by my side. Ten years ago, she held my hand and saved me.

Ten years later, I let go of her hand, and she flew away like a kite, wishing to bring me a world of vibrant colors. I will hold her hand from afar, walking and walking... In the boring waiting time, I naturally wanted to look at some erotic pictures. My personality isn't actually that dull; deep down, I'm still that free-spirited youth. Since I'm young, why not be reckless?

I opened the erotic picture app on my phone, and what caught my eye was a submission from a netizen, something about showcasing their spoils.

The woman in the picture is kneeling with her head sticking up, her eyes blurred. Her hands are chained to a concrete pillar, her body covered in various insulting and obscene phrases, even written on her face. She has only tattered, flesh-colored skin, her feet bound apart with chains, heels pressed tightly to the back of her thighs, her knees constantly kneeling on the rough ground, looking exactly like a female dog. Her feet, which were originally quite beautiful, are now a mess of urine

, submerged in various yellowish-white liquids, unrecognizable.

Most shockingly, her anus is swollen beyond recognition, and the entire rectum, stretched like a sewer pipe by some unknown force, has a large section of its rectum, stained with yellowish-white fluid, protruding outside. A white flag, symbolizing surrender, is stuck in the center of the rectum, held upside down by the intestinal wall.

The scene was a mess, with large amounts of unidentified liquid and syringes scattered everywhere. The woman's tongue was dangling out, her mouth stuffed with one-yuan bills, and even her nose was hooked up and stuffed with two rolls of one-yuan bills.

The loose change scattered on the ground seemed less cheap than the woman in the picture.

The most shocking thing was this large [image/image], the left side covered with countless tally marks, so dense it was nauseating, some showing burn marks from cigarette butts, and some reddish-purple needle marks.

The right half had a message written on it, too difficult to read, so I zoomed in.

"Celebrating the construction site's completion! Special offers for fucking Lin Yiyuan's pussy! One yuan per time, ten yuan per hour! Buy more, get more free, three times plus one free footjob, and a set of Wei Ge's flirting tools! If you have any objections, please call the boss:..." "Ding...Wei?" The rose earrings I remembered were stained red, and I seemed to see syringes being pierced into my wife's fleshy buttocks, huge ones pushing her breasts up, my wife crying and begging for help, but to no avail.

Her anus could no longer close, forever transformed into that horrifying shape.

Her fair toes were stained with yellowish-brown saliva, her beautiful figure smeared with yellowish-white urine sediment. I couldn't imagine what my gentle wife would be like after being violated.

Then, the image of my wife, a self-destructive artist from a comic book, rolling her eyes, intruded into my mind. But my wife's face simply couldn't overlap with this grotesque thing! I desperately tried to banish that face from my mind, but it remained firmly pressed against my wife's blurred image.

I began to gag, intense emotions surging from my stomach.

I frantically dialed my wife's number. Her phone

was off.

I ran to the hotel, kicking the door madly.

The room was empty; the large green "No Guests" sign mocked me.

Security guards simply kicked me out of the hotel.

I looked at the sky in despair, searching for my kite—my dearest person.

Something seemed lost; my wife's gentle figure gradually blurred.

The kite string had snapped.

[The End]

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The cartoonist's wife

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