Being a husband is difficult (May 6th) [Author: derksen]

Author: derksen
Word count: 5676

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It's hard being a husband! (5)

As soon as I got home in the evening, I went to my son's room to check. I saw that my wife was indeed wearing the ring on her left hand
instead of her right. If you looked closely, you could see the marks on her left ring finger from wearing
near her groin . After leaving my son's room, I went to the bathroom as usual to check my wife's underwear and pantyhose. Perhaps because of the hot weather, my wife was wearing a pair of black low denier pantyhose today, but it was quite unusual that there was nothing on them. Not only were there nothing on the pantyhose, but the panties were also clean - there was no discharge that women usually have, which was very suspicious. Did my wife notice that I would check her underwear and take precautions? This makes no sense. She should have noticed it a long time ago. I was annoyed that there wasn't a single stain on my wife's underwear and pantyhose. Then, I noticed she'd bought a new pair of shoes and left them unattended by the closet door, and a vengeful impulse seized me. I took out the skin-colored pantyhose I'd secretly hidden in my closet drawer—the ones that had stained my wife's crotch area with semen the day before. I crumpled the pantyhose into a ball and held it to my nose, inhaling the lingering, dried, slightly fishy smell mixed with my wife's sweat. I masturbated, imagining my wife wearing those shoes, completely naked except for the pantyhose, being penetrated from behind. When I ejaculated, I shot directly into my wife's shoes. These black high heels with T-straps at the ankle looked brand new on the outside, but the inside was a complete mess. If my wife wore them to work , her feet would definitely feel sticky. The next day at work, during my lunch break, I received a strange phone call at my desk: a woman was making moaning sounds, like she was having sex, but the sound quality was poor and unclear. I listened for a few seconds, then got a fright. After listening carefully for a while and confirming it was indeed moaning, I quickly hung up, afraid of being misunderstood. The call was so bizarre, and it wasn't even on my cell phone, but from the company extension. I'd only been there a short time and was currently an office worker; how would they know my extension? I figured it might be because of the previous user, so I didn't think much of it. That day, after work, I deliberately went to the chemical company's parking area, but didn't see a single van, which was quite disappointing. So I decided to sneak into the men's restroom to see if I'd run into anything. I opened the unlocked cleaning stall and found something very strange, like a work schedule. This schedule-like form had three letters written on it: a, c, and e, with several checkmarks for each name and corresponding dates. While I was still hesitating whether this was simply a toilet cleaning shift, I heard the clicking, clicking sound of women's high heels outside. I quickly left the cleaning room and hid in the next stall . Peeking through the stall, I saw a woman wearing white platform heels and white stockings enter the cleaning room. She seemed to change, and then sat down on the floor. She was naked, without even underwear, and took a vibrator , then began masturbating. From my vantage point, I could see a simple gold ring on her left ring finger; her finger was somewhat short and chubby, and her hips and thighs were full—or rather, plump. Her slightly protruding belly, due to the way she leaned forward while sitting, created rolls of fat around her abdomen. Upon closer inspection, I noticed her pubic hair was completely shaved, and "sluttywifeam y" was tattooed on her smooth mons pubis. The first letter of "amy" matched one of the letters on the class schedule, making me suspect that the schedule might be related to this woman's actions. Her labia minora were severely everted, thick and fleshy , hanging like the skin of a scrotum without testicles, and were even purple. Her clitoris quickly became erect under her own stimulation , and its size after erection was beyond my imagination, resembling a small glans penis with a perfectly formed fleshy ball shape. After the woman began masturbating, footsteps entered again; the person seemed to be urinating, but the woman continued masturbating with a vibrator—the vibration was very loud, loud enough for anyone entering the toilet to hear. After the man finished using the toilet, he went directly into the cleaning room. The woman with the thick labia in the cleaning room stopped masturbating stood up, and turned her back to the door of the cleaning room. After being penetrated from behind by the man, the slapping sounds of flesh hitting flesh echoed The woman with thick labia showed no restraint, moaning in sync with the rhythm of the man's penis entering her vagina. During this time, several more men entered the men's room, and those who had been waiting outside immediately took their place. In the hour or so that I was trapped in the toilet and dared not leave, a total of eight men entered the sanitation room. The woman with thick labia went from excitedly screaming to being unable to make a sound and lying on the floor, being raped , just like the woman I saw wearing fish-eye open-toed shoes during my job interview. After everyone had slept with this woman, I noticed the restroom was empty and prepared to leave. Before leaving, I slightly pushed open the half-closed door of the sanitation stall and peeked inside. A woman with thick labia lay on the floor, her eyes glazed over, staring blankly at the ceiling, oblivious to my opening the door. Her legs were spread in an "O" shape, and her white stockings had several sticky welts on her thighs, presumably from where the men had wiped themselves after ejaculating. Thick fluid clung to her crotch, and her thick labia minora seemed to be spewing white foam from her mouth. I then noticed that her nipples and areolas were the same dark purple as her labia, much larger than a coin, and had small bumps on them. The woman had permed hair , the large waves at the ends looking like an outdated style. Seeing the wrinkles on her face, which even heavy makeup couldn't conceal, and her slightly sagging double chin, I thought she was at least forty-five years old; the hairstyle suited her age. This woman was married; I wondered if she had children? What would her children think if they knew their mother was used as a sex toy in the men's restroom? I shook my head as I thought this, quickening my pace.

I left the men's restroom at the chemical company.

After leaving the restroom, while idly waiting outside, I received that strange phone call again, this time
directly to my cell phone. This time, the woman on the phone wasn't just moaning aimlessly; she was saying
things like, "I haven't made love with my husband in a long time," and "Come and have some fun with me," which were quite suggestive. However,
there was a lot of static, and the call was intermittent and unclear. After listening for a while, I figured it was
probably recorded message and hung up. That evening
, I got home a little earlier, around 9 PM. My wife was still awake, watching TV, so I casually mentioned that we were going to send
our son back to our hometown for the summer vacation starting next week. Firstly, the air in the countryside is better, and there are other cousins he can
play with, which would be helpful for him, a city-raised child. Secondly, it would allow our grandson to keep his father company after his mother's passing, as he has been lonely
for many years . My wife readily agreed without any objections
and went to sleep in our son's room shortly after arriving at my house.

I went into the bathroom to check my wife's underwear and pantyhose. They were still spotless, without a trace of discharge.
Although the pantyhose had a sweaty smell, the underwear was perfectly clean. I went to the dressing room and saw that my wife's new
pair of high heels were back in her shoe cabinet. There wasn't a trace of discharge inside; she must
have thoroughly cleaned them. Then I went back to check the heels of her pantyhose, but there wasn't
a . I figured she probably hadn't worn those shoes out today, so they hadn't been stepped on.
Before going to bed after her shower, I checked my wife's briefcase as usual. Lately, it had been filled
with nothing special—files from her company—and today was no exception—but slightly different. Inside
was a folder with the name of that chemical company on the cover. Opening it, I found sales materials for some
unusual derivative financial products. Was my wife going to that company for business
? Perhaps so, but I don’t believe it’s just about selling these derivative financial products. Although I
’ve heard from classmates that the owners of these small and medium-sized enterprises have been buying these financial products in recent years, I
know that selling these things mostly relies not on expertise, but on connections or… “skills.”

It’s hard being a husband! (6)

Seeing the woman being raped in the men’s restroom of the chemical company was abnormal. Normally, even if she had experienced
multiple orgasms, she wouldn’t have such a vacant look and a wide-open pupil with a satisfied smile. I was worried that
during the time my wife frequently visited this company, even if she was “
communicating , she should have been treated with courtesy and not thrown into the cleaning room like company property cleaning tools.
But I was still quite concerned. As a husband, I should fulfill my responsibility to protect my wife.

So after work, I went to a private investigation agency known for its “catching the monkey” – that is, investigating extramarital affairs.

As soon as I arrived at the private investigation agency’s office, the other party saw that I looked nervous and kindly invited me to sit down and
have a cup of tea to chat. I briefly explained the situation: I've been married to my wife for a few years and we have a child. However, my wife frequently
visits a certain company, and recently, every time she comes home, there's unidentified bodily fluid residue on her underwear. I don't
want our marriage to deteriorate further and I'm worried about my wife's safety, so I hope a private investigator can monitor her comings
and goings. Ideally, they'd like to capture footage as evidence. I omitted
the , as those things are too absurd and I was afraid they'd think I was crazy.
The investigator listened to my explanation, nodding and saying "uh-huh, I understand."
After writing down everything I said, they explained their plan: a team would track my wife's
movements If she went to a hotel to "rest," they would try to follow her inside. Some
hotel rooms have peepholes, which could be used with special equipment to film the inside. If she had a fixed location,
they would try to disguise themselves as maintenance workers to install hidden cameras. Because entering office buildings
is difficult and risky, there's a customized price for this plan. I was shocked when I heard the price,
but luckily I was prepared. The money I saved from sending my son back to our rural hometown these past two months should be enough to cover it.

After agreeing on a plan with the private investigator and paying them to start their investigation, I didn't rest either.
Every day after work at five o'clock, I would go to the chemical company's restroom and observe everything happening in the cleaning room next door. Based on
my observations over the past few days, it was indeed true that there were three women taking turns acting as "cleaning tools" in the cleaning room, just like the schedule suggested.

One was the mature woman I saw that day, another was
a , and the third, I guessed,
was the woman I saw that day in peep-toe shoes who hadn't appeared for over a week.

In addition, one day at noon, I happened to be having lunch with colleagues and I actually saw the mature woman and a young woman
with . The young woman, wearing black pantyhose, definitely had a butterfly tattoo on her left ankle
. I asked my colleague if he had seen those two women. He said they were the switchboard operator and
secretary ; he had seen them when he picked up mail in the building's mailroom.

Strangely, apart from the woman in the peep-toe shoes, neither of the other two had been seen in the van in the underground
parking lot . Their behavior patterns also seemed different. The mature woman was usually
finished by 6 PM, but the young woman with slender ankles was often fucked until after 8 PM. I hid in the next toilet until my legs
went numb, and it still wasn't over.

Finally, on Friday after work, I managed to see her face after she had been gang-raped
. That day, I was still hoping to see the woman in the peep-toe shoes, wanting to
see what was written on her bare mons pubis. But when I saw those slender ankles in
black , I recognized the young secretary as the one who had appeared that day. She had
barely entered the cubicle when a man followed her in. Without even waiting for her to undress, he immediately began to fuck her.
Not long after the first man finished, another man entered and started fucking her. As usual, her
still-pink vagina, ravaged by countless men, never had a moment's rest. After being fucked like this for almost two hours,
the noise from the cleaning room next door finally ceased. I peeked into the cleaning room through the gap under the cubicle and saw her lying...
On the ground, her legs were spread wide in an "M" shape, each foot tied to her left and right hands respectively, keeping them
raised and unable to be lowered. Her eyes were blindfolded with a tie, her mouth was gagged with her own black silk panties,
and she was only wearing black open-crotch stockings covered in dried and semi-dried semen stains.

Seeing that no one had entered, I boldly left the toilet stall and opened the door to the cleaning room next door to peek.

The secretary's face was covered in semen, and a snotty string hung from her nose—presumably from choking on
semen during oral sex, causing it to flow back out. Sure enough, her shaved vulva had a tattoo, also in
Gothic script, that read "ponybitchemiliy"—I think it refers to her small stature,
like a miniature horse, and the "e" on the schedule naturally refers to her. But despite her small stature, she had an
unusually large pair of breasts, almost as big as her head. She looked more like a heifer than a mare
. Seeing her petite, slender body lying on the ground, her hands and feet bound and her eyes blindfolded, I
felt an urge to release my pent-up desire. I unzipped my pants, pulled out
my limp penis, and tried to get it hard against her open, pink vagina, but it only reached a semi-erect state. I tried several times to force it
into her already
ravaged vagina, but it wouldn't go in. So I resorted to masturbating, finally ejaculating onto her vagina before leaving. On the drive home, I kept
thinking about why I could feel that intense urge, almost enough to fuck her for an
hour or two, but my penis just wouldn't get fully erect. But compared to a few months ago when my penis was completely limp and
unresponsive, it's much stronger now, at least it's semi-erect. Perhaps what I need
is some stronger stimulation.

When I took my son back to my hometown for summer vacation this weekend, my wife wore a rather thin, fitted dress. Because it was
bought several years ago, the fabric at the chest was stretched by her breasts, which had increased by two inches after childbirth, creating a deep
cleavage. And once we arrived at her hometown, my wife was busy in and out of the kitchen, and the dress
kept The hem got shorter and shorter, almost revealing her buttocks. Not only could I feel
the veins throbbing in my temples when I saw this, but even my dad's gaze towards his wife became strange. After a whole day of
stimulation , upon returning home from my hometown, I couldn't resist a surge of impulse. The moment I entered the door, I pinned her
to the ground, pulled down her dress by the neckline, and roughly sucked on her breasts, which
had become . As I pulled down my pants, ready to fuck this slut who was cheating on me
, I couldn't get an erection. My wife struggled, preventing me from spreading her legs and taking off her underwear, which fueled
my rage— "Fuck you, you bitch! You can let others fuck your cunt but not me?" These words only roared in my mind
, not spoken aloud, but I couldn't help but slap my wife across the face.

After the hard slap on her right cheek, my wife became docile and stopped struggling
, sitting quietly with her eyes staring blankly at the ground. I stood in front of her, trying to get an erection, but just like that day,
it wasn't hard enough to penetrate. So I grabbed my wife's hair and pulled her head
between my legs, indicating that I wanted her to give me oral sex. My wife silently opened her mouth and took my semi-erect penis into
her mouth . My penis immediately felt that warm, pleasurable sensation. Soon after, my wife began sucking, her head moving back and forth
. I placed my hands on her head, remembering how, when I could still be fully erect, if I had her perform this
service, I would mischievously press her head down, making her gag from my penis.
After my wife gave me oral sex for a while, I could feel that my penis hadn't gotten any harder. Just as I was about to give up and try to penetrate
her , my wife started sucking hard on the glans while using her tongue to tease my urethral opening, increasing
the speed of her thrusting. It had been so long since my wife had given me oral sex. Was she ever this good before? While I was still
marveling at the intense pleasure my wife was giving me, I couldn't hold back my ejaculation any longer. I ejaculated three or four times in a row,
finally emptying my semen completely into her mouth. After I ejaculated, my wife got up and spat the semen into the toilet
. After hearing her rinsing her mouth, she closed the bathroom door and went to take a shower. After she showered,
she completely ignored my apology and went straight to sleep in our son's room, leaving me alone on the bed in the master bedroom, blaming myself for
my rough behavior.

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Being a husband is difficult (May 6th) [Author: derksen]

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