[Wife's Lewd Life] (01-03) Author: 12344321

Author: 12344321
Word Count: 9127

(Chapter 1) My Wife's Snake-like Demeanor

My name is Feng Kai, also known as Xiao Kai. I'm a programmer at a software company, and I have a
wife I've been married to for two years. Her name is Chen Luyao, and everyone usually calls her Xiao Yao. My wife Xiao Yao is 172 cm tall, which
is . She has a pair of long, straight legs without a single flaw, and her breasts are about the
size of two small basketballs. When we make love, it feels like holding two smaller soft basketballs. Her skin is also exceptionally smooth and fair, like snow in winter. It happened to be Friday. Because I had been working overtime at the company for the past few days, and today the company had less business , plus the boss was in a good mood, so he granted me a day off, assigning all my work to someone who usually slacks off. This is probably what they call "fools have good fortune"! When I got home, I said, "Wife, I'm home! The boss was in a good mood and gave me a day off. Wife? Where are you?" I looked around the house, but there was no sign of my wife. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Something's not right. I went to work at 7 a.m. and rushed home; it's only a little past 8 now. My wife is a nurse at a hospital now. She wasn't originally a nurse; she was a saleswoman . But over a year ago, an unplanned pregnancy led her to have an abortion and quit her job to become a nurse and help patients. I couldn't resist her, so I agreed. Sure enough , my wife, originally a medical professional, became a full-fledged nurse at the hospital in just two months. I was greatly surprised by her abilities, but since she's my wife, it's only natural that she's capable, haha. I was hoping to see my wife and then get a good night's sleep, but it seems I won't be able to see her. Now I can only go to sleep. But it's such a waste to use a rare day off for sleeping; it's too extravagant. No , I can't encourage this extravagant and wasteful lifestyle. I need to make good use of my time. I went back to the bedroom and opened the wardrobe. The wardrobe took up one wall; my clothes were on the left, and my wife's clothes were on the right. As I picked out my clothes, I kept glancing at my wife's clothes, fantasizing about how wonderful it would be if she were home. I'd first touch her until her legs were weak and her pants were soaked, but as for "sex," well, there wasn't enough time, so I had to give up. "Huh?" As I looked, I noticed something was wrong . Not a single piece of my wife's underwear was missing. Although we'd only been married for a little over two years, I knew my wife's clothes quite well. Looking at the colorful underwear next to her, I started counting: "One, two, three, four, five, six... seven." Exactly seven ! All of my wife's underwear, now neatly arranged in the wardrobe. My wife wasn't home, so what underwear did she wear out? Perhaps, she wasn't wearing any underwear at all? This was different from the pure and kind wife I remembered! My wife was usually very conservative in this regard, never allowing oral or anal sex, and at most, she would only occasionally wear sexy lingerie. Looking down, I saw a row of my wife's underwear. A quick glance confirmed it; all her underwear was there. However, one pair of stockings was missing—a black bodysuit. Also missing was a pink, cropped dress. The dress only had fabric above the bust, with a thin ribbon tied around the nape of her neck, revealing her shoulders, the area above her chest, and part of her breasts. However, given my wife's size, even if the dress only revealed a small portion, it would still expose half of her breasts, barely covering her areolas, and a small portion of buttocks would be visible. My wife had only worn this dress once, on my birthday, and hadn't worn it since. Why would she wear it today? Questions flooded my mind. Had she bought a new pair of underwear? This seemed like the only plausible explanation. As for the pink dress, she must have thrown it in the trash! With a heavy heart, I walked to the trash can, wanting to take one last look at my dress. Huh? I searched every trash can in the house; every single one had trash, but the dress . Did my wife take it out to throw it away separately? If so, she must really hate this dress! It doesn't make sense! With a hint of doubt in my mind, I picked up my phone and made a call. I ordered six high-definition pinhole cameras : two in the bedroom, two in the bathroom, and the last two in the living room. After installation, I turned on the cameras, left home alone, went to an internet cafe, and played games there until almost closing time before returning home. "Honey, I'm home!" I called out as usual when I got home. "Honey's back? Dinner'll be ready soon. Try my crispy snake pieces later, I spent all day making these garlicky, braised snake pieces! Humph." I glanced at my wife; she was busy in the kitchen as usual, wearing her usual loungewear. I could even see her black underwear through her clothes. I clearly remembered that underwear lying neatly in the closet this morning. While my wife was busy in the kitchen, I went to the computer in the bedroom, turned it on, and watched the footage from the five webcams I'd left at home that day. The footage started when I left the house and remained frozen after I left. I kept fast-forwarding until 2 PM, a few hours after I left—about three hours ago. My wife returned, wearing that pink skirt and smooth black stockings . She swayed her hips as she walked into the bathroom. The pink skirt rode up slightly with her hip movement, revealing that she wasn't wearing underwear. I noticed immediately. My wife went into the bathroom, and I switched to the bathroom camera. In the footage, my wife walked towards the bathtub while taking off her clothes. When she reached the tub, she was completely naked, her black stockings slipping from her fingertips. I switched to another camera in the bathroom, facing the bathtub. I saw a strip of yellow tape, about four fingers wide, completely covering my wife's vulva. My wife lay down in the bathtub and started filling it with water, simultaneously rubbing her clitoris. The water filled the tub more and more...

The speed at which my wife rubbed between her legs increased, and finally, just as the water was about to fill the tub, she suddenly ripped off
the tape , her body tensing into an arch, raising her trembling lower body higher and higher… I knew my wife had orgasmed.

After her orgasm, my wife lay in the bathtub for a while, then reached down to her genitals again, her fingers probing inside her vagina
, as if trying to dig something out. Suddenly, a black object emerged from my wife's vagina;
upon closer inspection, it was a black snake's head! I instantly thought of the dinner my wife was currently making—crispy fried
snake pieces.

My wife grabbed the snake's head, trying hard to pull it out, but the snake inside her body was already
knotted. As the snake was slowly pulled out, my wife's vaginal opening widened further and further. Part of the snake's body had already been
pulled out; the remaining part was knotted inside my wife's body, rolled into a ball. My wife
gripped , and without hesitation, pulled the entire snake out with a burst of strength. I watched as my wife
's vaginal opening instantly expanded into a fleshy hole larger than a fist, then quickly closed again. My wife
convulsed —she had another orgasm.

I looked at the snake my wife had pulled out; its body was over a meter long, and its thickest part was
thicker than an adult's wrist. My wife lay on the ground resting for a while, then stood up, carrying the long snake she had just pulled out,
and slowly walked to the kitchen. Naked, she picked up a knife and began to process the snake.

After processing the snake, she cut it into 5-centimeter-long pieces. Each time she cut off a piece
, she stuffed it back into her vagina. Watching my wife stuff pieces of snake meat into her
vagina, my penis became intensely engorged.

Slowly, the snake that my wife had just pulled from her vagina, after being processed by her,
returned to her vagina. After all the snake segments were inserted into her vagina, the wife used her fingers to push the snake segments
deeper into her vagina. Then she opened the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, took out a 100ml
syringe , and then took out a bowl, added half a bowl of water, a spoonful of salt, a spoonful of sugar, two spoonfuls of flour, and
juiced a clove of garlic.

She filled the syringe with the prepared yellow sauce, inserted the syringe tip into her vagina,
and injected 100ml of the sauce. There was still a little bit of liquid left in the bowl, so she drew another half syringe and injected it
all into her vagina. After injecting the last half syringe of liquid, she pressed
the syringe tip into her vagina and slowly pushed the syringe in, leaving only the white tail sticking out
of the vaginal opening. Then she went to the living room, found some tape, and sealed her vagina shut.

Afterwards, she sat in the living room, massaging her lower abdomen to ensure the snake meat was evenly soaked, while watching television.

"Honey, the food's ready, come eat!" My wife's voice came from the living room. "
Okay I'm coming." I replied and quickly fast-forwarded a few segments of the video. An
hour and a half later, my wife finally peeled off the tape stuck to her genitals.

I turned off the security camera and went to the living room. Seeing my wife looking at me with love, waiting for me to come
eat , I was overwhelmed with emotion. "Honey, let's eat!" Looking at the snake pieces on the table,
my wife and I sat down together.

Chapter Two: Mashed Potatoes.

I got home from work at 5 pm. My wife was already busy in the kitchen. Watching her in the kitchen reminded me of
the snake pieces she made yesterday. Although I tried my best to eat them, I still couldn't finish them.
Half of them were already in the refrigerator. "The food will be ready soon, just wait a little longer." My wife
said without turning her head, her voice still so sweet. I replied and went back to the bedroom, turning on the security
camera on the computer. At 2 PM, my wife, wearing a black bodycon dress and high heels, opened the door.
She arrived home at 2 PM as usual, a full three hours earlier than me. Watching her enter the house carrying
her handbag , I wondered what kind of shock she would bring this time. She went to the bathroom first,
but this time I noticed something I hadn't noticed before: she put down her handbag, took out her phone
, pressed some buttons, and then held it upright next to her bag. The camera was pointed directly at where she was about to stand. I pulled
up yesterday's security footage, and sure enough, she had also held her phone upright yesterday, with the camera pointing directly at the spot where
she pulled out the snake. Fast-forwarding, I realized she took her phone everywhere, even
when she was cooking snake pieces in the kitchen; she would set up her phone first. This meant there was
a video of her cooking that afternoon on her phone! Why my wife did this, I didn't know, but I knew something
must . Switching back to today's surveillance footage, the wife put down her phone, then got
up , her buttocks facing the phone camera, looking exactly like a female dog waiting to be fucked.
She covered her vulva with her hands, then suddenly contracted her abdomen, stretching her vulva to
the size of . A pale yellow bud peeked out. She continued to rhythmically contract her abdomen,
squeezing the pale yellow bud out little by little. With a "plop," a potato the size of an adult's fist appeared in her hand
. Holding the potato, which was larger than her hand, her vulva
quickly contracted after expelling the potato, shrinking back into a pink slit. A thin, transparent, viscous fluid dripped from
her fingers holding the potato. She brought the potato to her face, caught
the dripping fluid with her pink tongue, and licked it all the way up from the bottom, taking the entire length into her mouth.
Then she put the potato to her lips and began licking the fluid off it. The wife meticulously licked every
inch skin. Finally, after confirming she had licked the entire surface and swallowed all the vaginal fluid
, she placed the potato on the tile in front of her and resumed contracting her abdomen. A moment later,
she squeezed out another potato of the same size from her vagina. She then
licked the newly expelled potato clean. Turning to the side, she placed one foot
on the toilet seat, adopting a dog-like posture, and began another round of contracting her abdomen. This time, she
was clearly more experienced, rhythmically contracting her abdomen. With a "pop," another potato appeared in her hand.
However, this time the potato didn't emerge from her vagina but was squeezed out of her anus.
Her pale pink anus was tightly closed, as if it wasn't the pink flesh that had just expelled a fist-sized potato.
The wife placed three potatoes on the floor, got up, and ran to the kitchen. A while later, she
returned to the bathroom carrying a cutting board with a bunch of cooking utensils on it. She squatted down next to the potatoes, facing the phone camera , and
placed the cutting board on the floor. She began placing the items on the board one by one,
announcing their names as she did so: "Knife, salt, milk, and butter.
" When she saw the last item, a square piece of butter about half the size of her palm, her eyes
lit up. "Little butter, good boy, good boy, I'll need you for lubrication
later." With that, she rubbed the butter against her vulva a few times, then pressed it firmly
against contracted and returned to its original shape, the butter disappearing
from the opening. After inserting the butter, she stood up and jumped a few times to make sure it wouldn't slip out, then picked up the potatoes
and left the bathroom. The surveillance camera switched to show the wife taking three potatoes to the kitchen. After preparing them, she tossed
them into a pot and started steaming. In no time, the potatoes were
soft and fluffy. She easily pierced one with chopsticks. She
then grabbed a plate, placed the potatoes on it, and grabbed a handheld whisk. Carrying the plate and
whisk she ran back to the bathroom. Back in the bathroom, she put down the whisk, rinsed the steamed potatoes with water
, and after a while, poked them to make sure they were cool enough to handle
. She then squatted down and placed one potato on the
cutting board. With a few quick cuts, she sliced the potato into eight pieces. She continued cutting
until all three potatoes were in her hands. After finishing, she turned
around and sat down, her back to the camera. The wife sat on the ground, leaned back to lie flat, then
raised her legs and bent her waist, bringing her calves to her ears. In this position, her
genitals were completely exposed, and her face and genitals were almost touching.
(As a science student, this is the best I can describe it; if you can't imagine it, I can't help you.) Glistening with vaginal
fluid, her entire vulva was covered, and small amounts of thick, yellowish
, buttery fluid were squeezed out with each contraction of her vagina. She reached for a piece of potato and placed it at
her vaginal opening, gently pressing it in. Then, she inserted the potato pieces one by one.
Out of twenty-four potato pieces, her vagina was already full after the sixteenth.
The sixteenth potato was stuck at the entrance, which was already stretched to the thickness of a wrist,
unable to contain the potato stuck there. Following the hairless opening upwards was her once smooth, flat abdomen. But
now , on her tender white belly, a straight line from the opening upwards had risen into a series of raised, rounded corners—
the result of sixteen angular potato chunks being squeezed to their limit
inside the potato chunks, covering her opening with one hand and raising the other, clenching it into a fist. She swallowed, then
slammed her clenched right fist down onto her protruding abdomen. "Ugh!" Amidst her suppressed moans
, I thought I heard a heavy impact. My wife's eyes were tightly closed; it was unclear whether it was from pleasure
or pain, but her face was flushed. Her right fist struck her abdomen with all its might,
squeezing out a bit of the potato chunk blocking the opening. Had her other hand not been tightly covering her opening, the potato chunks
would probably have been flying everywhere. My wife kept pounding her lower abdomen until it was completely red and
there was no longer any bulge. However, a straight line of bulge could still be seen at the location of her vagina.
My wife picked up the handheld egg beater that had been sitting aside. This egg beater was
one that my wife had specifically asked me to buy, and it was the lowest power model. There were two propellers at the front of the egg beater, each
with a four-bladed cage design. The thickest part of a single propeller could reach four centimeters, and even when the two propellers
were side by side although there was some overlap, the widest part could still reach six centimeters. The speed
could be increased from a minimum of ten revolutions per second to a maximum of two hundred revolutions per second. Now, I think I know why my wife wanted me to buy this
egg beater . My wife rubbed the propellers of the egg beater against her vulva, "Mmm, ah... mmm
..." My wife moaned from behind. Soon, the propellers were covered with my wife's vaginal fluid mixed with mashed potatoes, and
the silvery-white propellers reflected a shiny, lustful light. The wife stopped rubbing, pressed the propeller against her
vaginal opening, and slowly applied pressure. The whisk tilted, and one of the two propellers squeezed into her vagina first.
"Mmm! Mmm... Mmm..." The stimulation from the half-propeller was clearly significant, causing her to moan
. With a sudden thrust, the other end of the propeller squeezed into her vagina, now stretching her vaginal
opening into an oval shape about 6 centimeters wide and 4 centimeters high. The four blades of the propeller were deeply embedded
in her vaginal flesh. She continued to press the whisk down until the entire propeller at the tip of the whisk was submerged in her vagina, accompanied by her
soft . Her vaginal opening tightly gripped the propeller shaft. Her finger
pressed the adjustment button, slowly pushing it upwards. "Click." That was the sound of the button being switched to the first setting.
"Buzz buzz buzz..." The bold propeller immediately began to spin. "Ah... um..."
The wife 's breathing became heavier and intermittent, accompanied by moans. "Now... it's the lowest speed of ten... ah
... ten revolutions per second... um... its maximum speed... is... um... two hundred revolutions per... second..."
The wife looked at the camera on her phone and announced the speed parameters of the egg beater. "Click." Another crisp
sound of the switch being turned on. The wife adjusted the speed to level two, which was 50 revolutions per second. A column of transparent water
immediately gushed out from the wife's lower body, flying three meters away and hitting the toilet wall. It continued for half a minute
before the force of the gushing gradually decreased. The wife instantly lost control of her bladder at the speed of 50 revolutions per second. This whisk
has 5 speed settings. Except for the first and second speed settings which increase the speed by 40 RPM,
the propeller speed increases by 50 RPM for each subsequent speed setting. (You should understand, right? That is, 10 RPM for speed 1,
50 RPM for speed 2, 100 RPM for speed 3, 150 RPM for speed 4, and 200 RPM for speed 5.)
"Buzz buzz buzz..." The propeller's speed noticeably increased, forcing the wife to grip
the trembling whisk with both hands. She bit her lower lip, her delicate face flushed crimson, emitting unconscious
moans as she struggled to endure the 50 revolutions per second of the propeller ravaging her tender opening. She endured,
time ticking by. A minute passed, her face burning red, her hands
still gripping the whisk tightly, pressing it forcefully against her vulva. The flush completely overwhelmed
her face. Her thumb once again pressed the whisk's switch, "Click click click!" She
slammed the switch to level three, adjusting the speed to 100 revolutions per second! "Mmm...
Ahhhhh..." The wife groaned instantly—no, it couldn't be called a groan anymore; she was
screaming with all her might. The spinning buzzing sound became a single, continuous roar as the egg beater vibrated in her hands.
The moment she pushed the switch all the way down, her legs began to tremble uncontrollably. She was desperately
trying to endure it, and a blush gradually spread from her face to her entire body.

Her legs trembled more and more violently, and her lower abdomen was also convulsing, but
her hands, didn't loosen their grip at all; instead, they tightened even more.

"Mmm... Ah..." Time slowly passed as his wife groaned. One minute later, she
was writhing on the floor, still holding the whisk tightly. Five minutes later, her hands were still
gripping the whisk, her buttocks facing the phone camera, and she was making unconscious low-pitched moans. Eight
minutes later, she was completely limp on the floor, her groans had stopped, and her hands had long since left the whisk.
She lay on the floor, silently convulsing and rolling, especially her lower abdomen, which was contracting intensely at a high frequency
. At this rate, she would probably be able to develop six-pack abs in a little while. The whisk
was still working inside her vagina, buzzing as if
determined not to stop until it was completely destroyed.

With a snap, my wife, writhing and convulsing on the ground, knocked off the egg beater.
The egg beater, which had been ravaging her vagina, finally slowed to a stop, but my wife didn't stop. She continued to convulse on the ground,
her face flushed red. Now, she looked like she had just been taken out of the oven, her whole body bright red.
A minute later, my wife finally stopped convulsing and collapsed on the ground. Sweat mixed with her vaginal fluids formed a large puddle on the ground, and
now my wife was lying in a mixture of her own vaginal fluids, urine, and sweat.

My wife lay on the ground panting heavily. A full half hour passed before she finally got up. She
picked up a spoon from the side and began to scoop out the mashed potatoes from her vagina, spoonful by spoonful.
She scooped out the shallow parts and then the deeper parts. Later, she was even putting half of her palm into her vagina to scoop out the mashed
potatoes . The mashed potatoes she scooped out were covered with half a spoonful of clear vaginal fluid, reflecting a lustful sheen.

Looking at the large bowl of mashed potatoes that had been scooped out in the video, I knew that was my dinner tonight
.

"Honey~ Come and eat, come and try the mashed potatoes I've prepared."

Chapter 3 Socks Socks

Mashed potatoes My wife made a lot, and we didn't finish it all at once because she insisted that wasting food was bad, so
she insisted eating it all. So, every time we ate, there would be a small bowl of mashed potatoes in front of me. Because she made
a lot, it took me two days to barely finish the mashed potatoes. And I also learned the truth about not wasting food from the surveillance footage at home
. That is, every morning after I left, my wife would use my eating spoon
to feed herself mashed potatoes spoonful by spoonful into her vagina. Every time she fed me a spoonful of mashed potatoes, she would put the spoon completely into
her vagina, leaving only a little bit of the handle in her hand. When she pulled it out, she would twist the handle
a few times , making the spoon stir hard in her vagina before pulling it out and pulling out a strand of vaginal fluid. Each time, my wife would give me exactly a small bowl of mashed potatoes
. Perhaps for flavor, after feeding me a bowl, she would
also scoop a spoonful of salad dressing and a spoonful of honey into her vagina before sealing it with tape. She wouldn't
wear underwear anymore, and with only a strip of tape on her lower body, she would put on her clothes and go to work. It wasn't until
an hour before I returned home that evening that she came back, tore off the tape, and scooped out the mashed potatoes from her body, spoonful by spoonful
.

After the mashed potatoes, my wife settled down, cooking normal meals every day. However,
one of her actions caught my attention: after making the mashed potatoes, she rarely ate. To be precise, she
stopped eating solid food altogether. I felt something was wrong; there must be something going on, so I didn't say anything
. Now, whenever my wife and I eat together, she only drinks soup and porridge, completely ignoring the food on the table.
Also, when she's home alone, she occasionally takes out a glucose drink.

Counting the days, my wife hadn't eaten for four days and nights,
relying entirely on glucose and sugar porridge to maintain her bodily functions.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, I returned home as usual. Back in the bedroom, I wondered if she
would refuse to eat again. Wait, something seemed to have been forgotten—where was she? I hadn't seen her
or heard her voice since I got home. I searched all the rooms, and sure enough, she wasn't home.

If she hadn't come home, where was she? Connecting this to her unusual behavior over the past few days, I
immediately went to the bedroom, turned on the computer, and checked the security camera footage.

Two hours earlier, my wife had arrived home. She went straight to the bathroom, a recent
habit—the first thing she did upon arriving home was to defecate, and she would stay there for half
an hour before coming out to do anything else. It seemed she didn't even have time to use the toilet in the hospital;
she wouldn't even come home if she wanted to.

Something's not right! My wife hasn't eaten for several days, but every time she gets home, she sits on the toilet
for half an hour . This isn't normal. For the past few days, I've assumed she's defecating,
so I've skipped over the time she spends on the toilet. But thinking about it that way, it
's impossible to be defecating!

I rewound the timeline to when she first came home and went to the bathroom, carefully watching her
every move on the screen. Without a word, she walked to the toilet, took off her pants, and sat down.
Then she pulled out her phone from her pants, turned on the camera, and pointed it directly at herself. Next, her wife opened her mouth wide
, put her index finger in her mouth, and slowly pulled out a
black sock soaked in saliva! The saliva
left The sock, soaked in her saliva, was still visible, but even the reflective saliva couldn't hide the fact that the toe of the sock
was yellowed and clumped together. She sniffed the sock and put it in her mouth. Then

she lifted her legs, arching them backward and draping her ankles
over her neck.

She took the sock from her mouth with one hand and touched her genitals with the other. Her
hand holding the sock, moved down, starting from her lips, sliding down her chest, across her abdomen,
and then further down, parting her labia and stopping at her anus.

With a soft "plop," the wife's thumb, pressing against the sock, slid into her anus. The sock was slowly
pushed , and she then used her index finger to push it further in, seemingly trying to push it even deeper
.

She grabbed the toilet brush from the side, wiping the handle,
now wet with her own juices, on her vulva. Then, she pulled another sock from her mouth; the white sock
had , clearly the same pair as the one she had just inserted. She
stretched the sock over the toilet brush, pressed it against her anus, and slowly pushed it in. The toilet brush and sock
disappeared into her anus together, until about half of it was inside. She stopped,
pulled the toilet brush out of her anus, and the sock was gone, remaining
deep inside.

This wasn't the first time the wife had used a toilet brush to shove socks into her anus. She
pulled four more socks out of her mouth and stuffed them into her anus with practiced ease. At first,
she would dab the toilet brush on her vaginal fluids, but as the socks were inserted, her vaginal
fluids flowed from her vaginal opening to her anus, forming a wet, continuous mass. She pulled out a total of six
socks from her mouth, took a deep breath, and then reached for her feet draped behind her neck, pulling
off stuffing them into her anus as well.

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