My husband's hobby turned me into a slut 19

(I)
My name is Xiong Meiyi. I have a pretty face, long hair, am 160 cm tall, weigh 46 kg, and am in my early twenties. My measurements are 36D-27-36. I have long, fair legs, a round and high bottom, and full, perky breasts that often attract the attention of men on the street.
My husband is two years older than me and is a very strong man. I love my husband very much. We both have very strong sex drives, and we usually have sex more than four times a week. Every time, he brings me to multiple orgasms, and he gives me great satisfaction sexually. My husband is also a very tolerant man. He never makes any demands on me and never minds if I have excessive contact with other men. Sometimes when I talk to other men in a slightly flirtatious way, or even make physical contact, he doesn't object.
My husband and I have always had a very happy life together. One day, my husband suddenly collapsed while working in the office for unknown reasons. His colleagues immediately took him to the hospital. After treatment, he was basically fine in all aspects, but... he had a problem with his sex life. He couldn't get an erection often, and even when he could, it didn't last long. The doctor diagnosed it as a neurological disorder, saying it could be cured with appropriate stimulation.
So we watched some Category III and even Category IV pornographic films. My husband even asked me to imitate the lewd actions of the actresses in the films. At first, I was a little embarrassed, but for the sake of my loving husband and to enjoy the pleasure of sex, I did whatever he asked. At first, it was somewhat stimulating and helpful for him, but later it didn't have much effect on him. On the contrary, scenes of group sex, outdoor nudity, and naked sex in the wild made me feel weak in the knees and flushed, making me feel excited and eager. Over time, my lust became uncontrollable, and I had an urge to try it myself.
My husband's condition was deteriorating, so I learned to strip for him from some videos. At first, I could get him erect, but he would quickly go soft, and I still felt unsatisfied.
One night, my husband asked me to strip for him. He dimmed the lights in the living room, but he didn't close the curtains.
"Honey, why don't you close the curtains? People will see us."
"Wife, I want people to see me. It excites me."
I did whatever my husband asked. I took off my clothes one by one until I was completely naked. I stood naked in the living room, the light from outside and the dim light in the living room illuminating my naked body. My husband made me face the window, as if he wanted people to see my breasts and genitals clearly. Perhaps someone would see my naked body. I felt my face burning and my body hot. At that moment, my husband's penis was erect. He told me that when I was undressing, he fantasized about me dressed very sexily outdoors, then taking off my clothes one by one until I was completely naked, and this fantasy excited him greatly. That day, he was thrusting into my vagina on the sofa in the living room. He
did this several times afterward, and initially he seemed to get a little better, but after a few times, things didn't go as smoothly. My husband told me that fantasies are just fantasies; they can't keep his penis erect for long, and sometimes it's only half-erect. He wanted his fantasies to come true and demanded that I dress very sexily and revealingly when I went out. But I was always a little shy, afraid of the lecherous looks from strange men. I would at most wear low-cut tops or tank tops, and my skirts would be no more than ten to twelve centimeters (four to five inches) above my knee.
"Aren't you afraid I'll dress too sexily and revealingly?" I asked him.
"No, the less you wear, the more revealing the better, even naked would be even better. I'd get so excited."
"Aren't you afraid of your wife being seen by other men?"
"I absolutely don't mind other men seeing you. You have such a great figure, the more people see, the better."
"What if they touch me, grope me?"
"Okay, I really like seeing other people touch you, even..."
"Even what?" Hearing my husband say that, I guessed most of what he meant, my heart pounding.
"Even if you sleep with someone else!"
"I'm your wife, how can I sleep with other men?" But my desire was being
aroused.
"Really, whenever I fantasize about you caressing another man, I get excited. Just imagining your hand holding that man's long,
thick penis, playing with it, guiding it into your alluring little hole, thrusting hard into your vagina, makes me incredibly excited."
"Um, it's embarrassing." My husband's words made me think about it too.
"What are you afraid of? You can have sex with whichever man you want, whenever you want. I definitely won't be unhappy. The more you do it, the more excited I'll be."
"Oh! I'm your wife, not some street prostitute."
"Don't be angry, don't be angry. I'm doing this for our own good. Fantasy is never reality. If it were real, I think I could use it to get back to him. Besides, I know you're suffering from this repression, and I want to give you some relief."
This last sentence hit the nail on the head regarding my deepest desires. If it could really help him, I wouldn't care what I did. Thinking of this, my anger subsided.
"Okay, honey, I'll do whatever you want."
"From now on, no matter which man or how many men you sleep with, as long as you come back and tell me, I'll be very excited."
"But if I really do that, I feel so ashamed, so lewd." "
Really, honey, just thinking about having a lewd woman in my house makes me so excited."
"Then I'll be a lewd woman for you, but only for you." (
II)
One Friday morning, my husband mysteriously took out a dress, saying it was for me and asked me to try it on.
I got out of bed. Since I sleep naked, I didn't want to bother with anything so early in the morning, so I just put the dress on. It looked pretty good; it was a short silk jumpsuit with a very short hem, about ten inches (25 centimeters) above the knee. I knew I had to be extra careful wearing such a dress, otherwise it would be easy to expose myself. But then my husband told me to wear this dress to work.
"Okay, but I have to put on my bra first!"
"No, I want you to wear this dress without a bra."
"How can I do that? People will definitely notice. This dress is so see-through, they'll see down there!"
"I just want it this way, please. Didn't you say you'd do whatever I asked?" he pleaded.
Sigh, I had no choice but to agree and wear this dress to work, not even stockings, but I still felt it was absurd. My husband said we'd take the subway to work today. He also said we'd get on separately, and he'd watch me from the side.
As soon as I arrived at the station, I felt so many eyes on me. I think many men around me could easily tell from the smooth curves of my clothes that I wasn't wearing a bra, my nipples were protruding and my breasts were pointed, and the smooth curves of my buttocks revealed that I wasn't wearing underwear. I could almost feel a few pubic hairs peeking out through the silk skirt.
Once inside the carriage, it was packed with people; there were no empty seats, and everyone was jostling each other. Luckily, I managed to find an empty seat facing the passengers. There were no handrails near where I was standing, so I had to reach up and grab the overhead handrail to keep my balance. Unfortunately, this also pulled my short skirt up even higher, exposing almost my entire pale thigh to the man sitting below me.
I gradually realized that as the bus swayed, he kept staring intently at my genitals. I suddenly realized he might have seen my vulva. My face flushed red, and I felt men around me intentionally or unintentionally touching various parts of my body. Some even casually brushed their elbows against my erect nipples. I was overwhelmed with shame, but helpless. Especially the man below me; I knew he was staring directly at my genitals, but I dared not look at him.
The thought of my naked, long legs, even the most intimate part of my genitals, completely exposed to a stranger, made me feel like I was standing naked in a public bus, exposed to a group of strange men. In extreme tension, I felt an unexpected thrill; I felt like the heroine in an erotic novel. Suddenly, I felt my genitals become wet. I was wet, and I felt a liquid slowly flowing out. Oh no! I desperately tightened my legs to prevent any leakage and being seen by others—how shameful that would be!
Suddenly, something even worse happened: I clearly felt my buttocks were no longer pressed against my smooth dress, but against someone else's clothes. Oh my god, someone had lifted the hem of my skirt from behind up to my buttocks! I tried to see where my husband was, but he was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, a warm, large hand pressed tightly against my buttocks.
What should I do? What should I do? I was terrified, my heart pounded, and I was completely at a loss. That hand was stroking my smooth buttocks. My mind went blank, and after a moment, I began to think: he was behind me, the carriage was crowded, and he was pressed so close to me; no one else should see what was happening to my lower body. If I cried out, more people would notice I wasn't wearing underwear. If I went somewhere else, maybe more people would take advantage of me. Maybe if I just endured it, I'd get off the train soon. Endure it! I didn't dare turn around to look at that person. I endured the unbridled hand roaming my body, while simultaneously suppressing the intense urge to leak vaginal fluid.
I felt that hand move to the base of my smooth thigh, then a finger slipped between my legs, exploring my vulva. I trembled all over, my legs went weak. No, this is too much! I quickly pulled my hips back and thrust my lower body forward. But I never expected that, perhaps my weakness emboldened him, because that hand moved from the side, directly from my thigh to my lower abdomen. I was terrified, my face drained of color. I think the man sitting below me could clearly see the hand that was touching my lower abdomen, because I saw him staring at my genitals with his mouth agape in surprise, his face flushed. I immediately pulled my abdomen back, letting the hem of my skirt cover that wicked hand.
But before I knew it, his other hand had slipped between my thighs, pressing against my vaginal opening. I was horrified, feeling as if I were being raped in public. I stood there, stunned, my mind blank. The hand moved rhythmically, gently probing into my vagina, moving up and down. My vulva became increasingly wet, and I was utterly ashamed. The initial disgust had been replaced by an uncontrollable pleasure. My cheeks flushed crimson with sexual excitement, my lower body was overflowing with fluid, flowing down my thighs, and my buttocks involuntarily arched back to allow his fingers to penetrate deeper, while I swayed uncontrollably from side to side. I simply couldn't control myself from moaning. Later,
the hand left, and I felt an unprecedented emptiness. Thankfully, we finally arrived at my stop.
I hurriedly pulled up my skirt and got off the bus quickly. I didn't care about the possibility of being exposed on the escalator; I just wanted to get to the company as soon as possible. But then I realized another problem: because the skirt was made of thin material, if I walked too fast or took too big of a stride, the hem would swing wildly, further exposing my bare vulva. So I had to carefully tighten my legs and walk slowly. The worst part was walking back to the company from the subway station. My fair and slender legs were almost completely exposed, and the morning sunlight made my already sheer dress seem almost transparent, so I felt like I was walking naked on the street. Passersby stared at me with surprise. Although I felt embarrassed and hot, I also felt a strange sense of excitement.

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My husband's hobby turned me into a slut 19

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