Heterosexual massage 3P

We've been married for four years, and our sex life is pretty much perfect... Well, "perfect" is hard to define, but basically, I enjoy making love with him; I don't experience the "fever-reducing" or "boredom" that experts talk about.
The reason I go for massages is because my husband loves browsing porn sites and, after seeing some wife-swapping stories, he teases me about it in bed. It's just for fun; there's nothing wrong with adding a little fantasy during sex—it's like pretending my husband isn't my husband.
We're a very ordinary couple; my husband is a junior manager, and I'm a typical housewife. When it comes to sex, we're probably like any other couple—we don't have many taboos. We watch porn, and during sex, we try some tricks—sexual fantasies or props—and occasionally we read erotic novels online... Honestly, I always feel those novels are written for men, or by men pretending to be women; they're all about things that could never happen in real life. My husband gets very excited reading them, but as a woman, I know perfectly well whether those stories are true or false.
Anyway, after all the fuss, my husband actually created a QQ account and started posting wife-swapping ads online behind my back. When he found out, I was furious for a long time, feeling insulted. He's the only man I've ever had, and at thirty years old, he's still doing this kind of messy stuff? My husband said it was just for fun! Who says you have to agree to something? Surprisingly, there were a lot of respondents, though none of them were actually couples; most were single people looking to take advantage.
After reading their chat logs, it would be a lie to say I wasn't tempted. During that time, my husband wanted it almost every day, and I felt particularly aroused. But honestly, even my husband admitted it wasn't as simple as in pornographic novels… I can believe in extramarital affairs to some extent, but is it really that easy to just casually engage in wife-swapping or group sex? Who has the guts to choose a complete stranger based on just a few words on QQ? Regardless of looks, weight, etc., what if the other person blackmails you afterward? My husband, please, are you trying to be a decent human being?
One day in bed, he mysteriously suggested we get a massage. He'd heard it from a chat friend—a bunch of shady men gossiping about things they'd heard from others, who knows if it's true or not. I didn't pay him any mind at the time; my husband's like that, he's impulsive and forgets about it quickly once the excitement wears off… But he kept bringing it up, saying it was just a massage, not like we'd actually do anything.
I think it's also for safety reasons; safety is always a woman's first priority. With my husband around, a massage therapist is an expensive service, and checking into a hotel is convenient… Most importantly, I can't bring myself to actually have sex with another man. Fantasizing is fine, having those thoughts occasionally is okay, but in real life, it's practically suicide. Since my husband's been insisting, I'm also tempted to try it out.
Actually, every woman has that thought of having a fling with another man, not because she doesn't love her husband or isn't sexually satisfied, but simply because she wants a little adventure. I think my husband thinks the same way. Taking risks is one thing, but risks must be within controllable limits. Who's stupid enough to jump out of a plane without a parachute?
After that massage, our sex life did become incredibly passionate for six months, but that was just a side effect, like trying to pull the actor out of an adult film… I remember that massage vividly; although it was hard to accept, it was actually very stimulating. At first, I felt guilty, imagining a strange man in front of my husband… that feeling afterwards. But because my husband didn't care at all, and even pretended to be the masseur every time we made love afterward, the stimulation was even greater than the massage itself. So, if your husband is open-minded enough, I suggest you try it, just a half-hearted approach. You can't force anything.
I didn't refuse, and then my husband ran to the living room and got a newspaper. That damn guy had already drawn a bunch of red circles on it. My husband meant that he heard some masseuses cater to both men and women, so he wanted to be able to choose. I didn't want to get involved at all. Just thinking about finding someone to massage me was already making me half-dead; how could I have the energy to care about this game? Finally, my husband chose a "genuine male massage therapist for relieving fatigue"... I agreed; he seemed quite respectable, at least my impression of him was.
On the phone, I heard my husband ask if the afternoon was okay, then inquire about the duration of each session, the price, whether he also massaged men, etc. Finally, my husband even asked if the therapist offered the full service! I was anxious to stop my husband's nonsense, but I didn't dare say anything... It seemed like the therapist hesitated for a moment, and I don't know what he said to my husband.
After hanging up, I was angry. My husband explained gently that he just wanted to confirm if the massage therapist offered the half service, because the advertisement was so respectable... Since I had finally agreed, he didn't want to encounter a real "genuine male massage therapist for relieving fatigue." Okay! Although I felt embarrassed, my husband liked it, and—to be honest—I had a strange urge to try the pleasure of other men.
My husband said this guy's price was quite high, so high it would break his heart, and then he smiled ambiguously and said, "With such a high price, he might actually have some skills!" This masseur didn't charge by sessions; he'd do it until you felt satisfied. On the phone, he kept emphasizing that he'd truly trained in Japan and had top-notch massage skills. When my husband asked if he wanted the full service, the man hesitated for a long time before saying, "It depends on how you feel! If you feel it..." I warned my husband again that this was the only way, and not to think of any other tricks.
That day, I even wore sexy, see-through lingerie. When we got to the hotel, my husband called the man again, and he called back to the hotel room to confirm. I initially sat on the bed, but then thought it wouldn't be good to mess up the bed, so I sat on a chair. In short, my mind was in such a turmoil that I couldn't think straight and didn't dare move. My husband was the same, chain-smoking, filling the room with smoke. I knew he was nervous too.
When the doorbell rang, I almost jumped up. I frantically asked him where I should stand. I know it was a stupid question, but I genuinely didn't know where the best place to stand was. My husband shrugged, kissed me, and whispered, "I love you." Those words eased half of my nervousness, but the remaining half still made me feel like I was about to have a heart attack.
The masseur was a very muscular man, even somewhat... He was fat, at least 1.8 meters tall! Because I was shy and kept my head down, I didn't dare see his face clearly, but he seemed alright. You know, we women judge men by our feelings; the most important thing is the feeling. If the feeling is right, then it's right. I stood at the farthest corner of the bed from the door, trying to make myself look more natural, forcing a smile… The masseur's voice was very gentle. He softly asked me what my name was. My husband answered for me, saying, "Just call her Juanjuan!"
He was carrying a bag that looked like a briefcase, then took out a bottle of something I couldn't tell what it was, and asked, "Would you like to take a shower first?" "I had already showered before leaving the house, but thinking about what I was going to do later, I felt I should shower again... Now I'm facing a man... What if he means he wants to shower with me? Thinking about this, I suddenly felt hot all over, and I could barely stand. I quickly said I had showered, just now.
Then he gestured for me to take off my clothes, and I blushed and took off my outer clothes first, revealing my transparent underwear. I noticed that he and my husband were both staring at my body. I had just felt the air conditioning in the room was so cold, but now I wished my husband could turn it up a bit. I crawled under the sheets, not knowing where to look. I only heard my husband say in a dry voice that was different from usual, 'My wife is very ticklish, so...' The masseur first expressed his regret, and then talked about how good his technique was. I didn't hear any of it. At that moment, I was just thinking about where to look so as not to be impolite. Maybe I should close my eyes? But this masseur was very polite... Hmm! If you also want to find a masseur to relax, I suggest you get a feel for his attitude over the phone first."
"Juanjuan... um! Do you mind my clothes?" The masseuse hinted in a gentle tone, "The oil massage will get them dirty!" I started taking off my bra under the sheet, and hesitated when taking off my underwear... not because I was hesitant about whether I should take them off, since I was here and they were here, there was no reason not to. I was thinking that my movements would be clearly seen through the thin sheet, so how could I take them off gracefully? To be honest, I still don't know if I took them off gracefully.
Although I was covered by the sheet, I was completely naked, and I felt a mix of fear, nervousness, and excitement. But this sheet only needed to be lifted slightly... My husband came over, took my underwear, kissed my cheek, and then sat down on a chair next to me, crossed his legs, and started smoking again.
At this time, the masseuse also started taking off his clothes. He explained that it was an oil massage, so he had to take his clothes off too. To my relief, he wasn't completely naked; he was still wearing a small pair of underwear. I didn't intentionally pay attention, but I still caught a glimpse. His buttocks were small, and they looked very powerful in combination with his body. As for that place… it felt swollen, not much different from my husband’s.
Then he told me to turn over. I turned over and pressed my face against the pillow; not having to look at him made me feel a little better. Then I thought to myself, what is this damn husband doing now, watching his wife being touched by someone else? Am I enjoying this, or is he enjoying it? The masseur slowly lifted the sheet, and as the sheet moved away, my skin came into contact with the cold air in the room, reminding me that my body was now completely exposed to a strange man… I guessed this wasn’t a real oil massage, just lotion; the lotion felt so cold on my skin. “You have such a great figure, such fair skin, your husband is so lucky!” The masseur’s voice was very soft; his whisper made me feel like I was doing something incredible behind my husband’s back, but actually the room was small, and I knew my husband could definitely hear me. His praise might just be a professional habit, but it felt good to hear, and my shyness began to disappear. I’ve said it before, women live by their feelings.
He started by massaging my shoulders, very gently, asking in my ear if it hurt, if he was being too rough. The tension from before was starting to dissipate… It felt so good, so good that I forgot there was a man in his underwear next to me, so good that I forgot I was naked, so good that I almost fell asleep… Just as I was relaxing, the masseur's hands moved down to my back. The massage on my shoulders was fine, but as it went down, I started to feel ticklish… I'm really ticklish, and my husband always uses tickling to deal with me when I'm angry or upset. Honestly, I don't know which part of my body isn't ticklish.
Even though it tickles, I'm too embarrassed to say it, you know how women are—they're afraid of being laughed at. I think I shifted slightly, and this man, so perceptive, noticed even that slight movement. He asked softly, "Does it tickle?" I gently murmured, "Mmm!" His voice was so gentle, and so attentive; my initial shyness almost completely disappeared, replaced by trust, just like my trust in my husband. Of course, a large part of it was because I was lying face down; it seemed that hiding my face increased my sense of security.
His hand continued to press and slowly move down, and when it reached my waist, I chuckled. Hearing my laughter, he laughed too, and the tension in the room vanished. It was a very special experience; when you expose your flaws and find that the other person doesn't care, the relationship immediately becomes very close. So I told him I was ticklish, especially my waist… Talking to him was a very natural thing, like telling my beautician what kind of hairstyle I wanted. This ease only lasted a second, because when his hand left my waist and slid to my buttocks.
He wasn't in a hurry to do anything; first, he poured some lotion on my buttocks and started rubbing. Several times I felt he was about to touch my genitals, so close, but as if he had accidentally and apologetically, he immediately pulled away. I knew he would eventually touch there, but I still felt afraid; some things you can never get used to.
In a state of nervous anticipation, his hand left my buttocks and moved downwards. On one hand, I was a little disappointed that he'd given up on getting to what he was supposed to be doing; on the other hand, I started to worry about the sensitive itching in my legs. Suddenly, he began to gently massage my feet, saying, "Your legs are so beautiful, so white and slender, so beautiful..." I knew he was sincere, at least I felt it was, and that feeling was my whole life.
Then he started kissing my legs, even holding my instep and stroking his cheek, as if he'd discovered the most beautiful treasure in the world... At first, I resisted, trying to pull away. No one had ever kissed my legs, no one had ever praised my feet. Maybe my parents had, but at least not since I can remember. He didn't let me go like he had during the massage; he pulled me back, kissing me. I felt his tongue darting between my toes... It wasn't a physical pleasure, but a psychological emotion; I almost felt like crying. This was the first time someone had kissed a place I'd never even noticed before.
Some say women are developed, and I tell you, that's absolutely true. From our first holding hands to my first kiss and caresses with my husband, I still remember the shock I felt when I first touched his penis. Women rarely know what they want or don't want; they need a good man to guide them. We are not as rough as men; women are independent creatures like cats. I believe no two women feel the same way about sex, and at least a third of any sex education book you can find is wrong. Time seemed to stretch on forever. I was completely immersed in a feeling of being moved, and I didn't even notice his hand moving between my thighs. When he touched my genitals, I realized how big his hand was, yet so delicate. He didn't directly violate my most intimate area; he simply stroked back and forth between my thighs, occasionally brushing against the cleft of my buttocks and immediately moving away, almost imperceptibly. I felt my whole body relax, dissolve. It wasn't pleasure, but I knew he was touching me, this gentle man was touching me… His hand slowly covered my genitals, completely covering them and gently kneading them, like a guardian angel. After a while, his fingers began to probe inside and outside the crevice, and suddenly he found my most sensitive clitoris, lightly brushing against it. In that instant, I let out a soft "Mmm!" I knew I shouldn't, but I felt like a small boat adrift on a gentle ocean, suddenly struck by lightning… I realized I was already wet; his touch made me feel that my clitoris was covered in love juice, his fingers easily gliding and teasing it. Every muscle in my body was awakened, uncontrollably arching my hips, but he remained gentle, unhurried and unconcerned. The first pleasure came slowly; besides gripping the sheets tightly, I couldn't do anything. This surging pleasure never subsided, not like the waves people describe, but more like a tsunami—you never know where it will end. His hands were so light, so naturally penetrating my lower body. I could hear the sound of water flowing between my legs, like waves crashing against rocks… I tried to hold back my cries, but my body wouldn't cooperate. I wanted to roll over, to leap up, but my body was downward, a sense of powerlessness rising within me. Besides trying to raise my hips as high as possible to meet his, I was helpless. I thought I was about to cry, perhaps I already was… but his gentleness wouldn't let me go.
I didn't know I could be so wet, like a dam bursting, unstoppable. Actually, there was no need for sex, no need for any movement. Now, sitting here recalling the wanton sounds my lower body made, my heart feels like it's about to explode, my face as red as an apple.
Then his hands left, and suddenly I felt empty, my hands leaving the sheets.
I thought if it weren't for the sheets I was holding onto, I would have screamed, screamed with all my might.
He turned me around; this man was so strong, like a god, gently lifting me up and flipping me over without me even feeling it. Turning my head, I caught a glimpse of my husband. I couldn't see his face clearly, but I knew he had seen everything that had just happened. He was still sitting in the same position, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
I didn't know if it was shame or excitement, but a certain emotion filled my chest. My man was watching me being played with, and I shamelessly reached orgasm... I felt a surge of love from my husband; I knew he loved me this way, loved that I let my truest self shine through. But it was difficult; I could only turn my emotions to the sheets. Only then did I realize how sore my fingers were.
He leaned closer, kissing my nipples and groping them. He gently stroked my breasts, occasionally caressing my nipples. My nipples were very sensitive; every time he touched one, my whole body trembled, just like my husband's when he ejaculated.
His face drew closer, a simple face, weathered by time. I suddenly had an urge to kiss him, but wouldn't that be foolish?
He gently nibbled on my earlobe... Oh my god! Heavy breathing filled my ear, and I felt dizzy. Like a broken doll stripped of its soul, my body had vanished, leaving only the sound of my breathing, heavy breathing… The dizziness persisted, spreading like ripples, only to begin again, endlessly expanding. This man had found my weakness, my most vulnerable spot. Besides telling me my feet were beautiful, he had found my most vulnerable place.
“Do you like it?” he whispered in my ear. Uncontrollably, I said, “I like it!” I think I still retained a sliver of reason. If this man were my husband, I would have hugged him tightly and shouted, “I love you!”
I could feel his genitals rubbing against my waist, very hard… I thought he was doing it on purpose; perhaps he wanted me? Just then, he reached one hand towards my genitals and gently stroked my hair with the other, saying, “You’re so beautiful, so very beautiful… Has anyone told you you’re beautiful?” Then the hand stroking my hair left, and he gently took my hand, touching his genitals through my small underwear. Was it because he was frightened? This was the first time I'd ever touched the genitals of a man other than my husband. I snapped out of my reverie and immediately pulled my hand back. He didn't force me; he moved away, gently pushing my legs apart and beginning to kiss my genitals.
It was a fusion of shame and pleasure. I tried to pull my legs back slightly, leaving them half-open, but he gently pushed them completely open again, my entire vulva exposed to a stranger. His tongue swirled around my clitoris, and waves of sensation washed over me. With the climax, my legs, which had been slightly tense, completely relaxed and opened. I leaned towards him, wanting to get closer, closer… and then I finally made a sound, beginning to moan unrestrainedly.
All shame was cast aside; I only knew I wanted more, more, I wanted him to give me more pleasure. I don't know if I cried out "I love you," but I think I at least cried out "Give me, give me more…" It wasn't because of how beautifully he licked me, but because my legs were open, I was opening my legs to welcome this man.
I was exhausted, almost breathless… He was back in my ear. The intertwined pleasures, all sorts of different pleasures, made me forget everything with his kisses… I don't know why I reached out and pulled his penis from his underwear.
At first, I just gently touched it, feeling its hardness, its throbbing, its thickness. Slowly, I started to go crazy, rubbing it recklessly, my mind only focused on making him ejaculate, ejaculating lots and lots of semen.
His hand finally entered my vagina. With the movement of his fingers, I became more and more excited, and I could feel his excitement too. I was going crazy, feeling myself twisting my hips forcefully on the bed, constantly moaning and panting.
An orgasm came, I arched my back, almost instantly experiencing another climax. I was so tired, I couldn't hold his alluring penis, and I couldn't arch my back anymore. So tired, I don't know how many orgasms I'd experienced together… I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn't, I knew I couldn't.
It seemed like time had come, or perhaps he thought I was satisfied? In truth, I was satisfied, though not with the perfect penetration. But I knew that later, with my husband, I would want him to penetrate me once or twice, and if he refused after the masseur left, I would rape him… But at that moment, my mind was filled with the image of the masseur's penis.
I knew my husband was coming, and I closed my eyes, unable to look at him. No matter what, I had done so many shameful things in front of him. My husband looked down and asked if I wanted the full service… I didn't know. I knew I should say no, but damn it, all I could think about was that hard erection that had just been in my hand. This damn man was testing me, but I couldn't refuse. Damn it, I just couldn't say no. My husband asked again, but I didn't answer, because I couldn't say yes, but I couldn't say no either.
I don't know what my husband and the masseur did; they didn't speak. I guessed they shook their heads or nodded? I turned to the side, closing my eyes, my back to them. Although the passion remained, I dared not see my husband, nor did I want to look at the masseur again, afraid I would lose control and say yes.
My husband returned to the bedside and began kissing me, whispering in my ear, "Juanjuan! I love you, you're so amazing!" Just then, I noticed the masseur had climbed on top of me from below… He first gently parted my legs with his hands, just as tenderly and skillfully. My legs weren't unopened, but this time was different; this time he would use his… God! His massive body pressed down on me, and I felt so scared.
After kissing me once, my husband pulled away, abandoning me. I was so afraid. Was this really going to happen? Was this right? He started kissing my nipples, my earlobes, and then I knew nothing more. I only knew that his penis was rubbing against my clitoris, rubbing and rubbing. I knew I was wet; I could even feel my vagina opening, waiting, anticipating. My body was ready, and that penis I loved so much was ready too, but… I turned my head, and my husband was smoking, I don't know how many cigarettes he'd smoked. …In my dazed state, I thought about my first time with my husband, and what would happen afterward, and what would happen afterward. How long is that instant? I only know that in that instant, everything about my husband and me flashed through my mind like lightning, so clear, so captivating. I love him so much; he is my only man. I know I love him, but I never realized how deeply I loved him. To me, my husband's importance far surpasses the sum of everything else in the world.
When that person entered me, I could clearly feel my lower body being breached by a force; a hard, large penis was inserted into my vagina. I felt a sense of despair, even sadness. I had lost my uniqueness, and from then on, I had no pride left… I turned my head towards the wall, not wanting to look at my husband, thinking I might as well just die. I didn't want to see anything except that wall covered in vulgar wallpaper.
There are no excuses. I've lost my virginity. Right now, a completely unfamiliar penis is freely going in and out of my genitals—I can comfort and explain myself when fingers are inserted, but now it's a penis, the kind that ejaculates semen that can give birth to a child, the penis of a man other than my husband… If it weren't for politeness, I think I would really push this person away, rush into the bathroom, vent all my grievances, and then lock myself in there forever until I die of old age.
That's why I advise those who want to try it to know when to stop. Doing half of it is enough; it's enough to take you to an unprecedented peak, enough to satisfy all your fantasies.
The feeling of being penetrated by a stranger is really great, like being forced into rape. Even though it's voluntary, it still feels like rape, being forcibly penetrated. Of course, it depends on luck, that is, whether there is a man who truly loves you who is willing to be with you… I feel nothing, although the sound of water is still coming from my genitals, and I can feel that penis that I was just infatuated with thrusting in and out of my body. But making love isn't just about being gentle... Just as I was about to cry, my husband came up behind me, gently stroked my hair, and turned my head.
He looked at me for what seemed like an eternity, without saying a word... Then he began to kiss me.
I'd never kissed like this before. It felt like a life-or-death separation. Do you know what it feels like to kiss with all your might? In my husband's kiss, I felt an intense jealousy that could burn the heavens and earth, along with fear and boundless desire… I couldn't tell which feeling was stronger, but I knew that the sum of all these feelings was love. Nothing else could make it feel like this. Ignoring the other person's actions, I hugged my husband and kissed him passionately, letting him know I would never let him leave again. A strange penis was still gently inserted into my lower body, and the feeling was incredibly new!
Suddenly, my husband pushed me away. I'd never seen him undress so quickly before, as if the world would end if he waited any longer. His penis practically jumped out of his underwear, red and shiny, its rounded glans beckoning and calling to me.
My desire was rekindled. I swallowed my husband's penis, sucking hard, swirling my tongue around the glans. I wanted it in my mouth, I wanted it to feel good, I wanted to give everything to this penis that I would always love.
With my husband's penis in my mouth and another dildo inserted into my lower body, I knew this was what people called a threesome. But was this really it? Because at that moment, all I could think about was my husband. Although I was starting to feel pleasure in my lower body, I believed it was all from my husband, from that dildo in my mouth.
But less than a minute later, my husband pulled back, taking the dildo that belonged only to me out of my mouth. My automatic reaction was to reach out and grab it, but my husband took a step back. I didn't know anything. I only knew that I wanted his dildo, that I wanted to eat it, that I wanted it to stay in my mouth forever. I cried in desperation.
My husband immediately leaned over and kissed my face, wiping away my tears, but I knew he was deliberately keeping his lower body far away from me.
Probably afraid that the other person would hear! He whispered, "I can't take it anymore..." The other person, contrary to his previous gentleness, started to exert himself, while my husband kissed my earlobe. Enveloped in my husband's love, the shame I had felt earlier had vanished. However, his penetration felt really good, very good, but it was obviously much less comfortable than the caresses I'd just had with my hands.
They both left me almost simultaneously. I barely noticed him pulling out; I only realized my husband was gone. Disappointment washed over me, like having to answer a phone call halfway through sex. My disappointment stemmed from my husband no longer kissing my earlobe, and had nothing to do with whether the other man continued penetrating me. I even wanted my husband to pay him off and get rid of him so we could just stay in bed and make love a hundred times over.
My husband gently patted me; I knew he wanted me to turn over. I obeyed; I always listen to my husband. Then I felt him supporting my hips; I knew he wanted me to lift up so he could enter from behind, our favorite position. I liked it like that; I liked anything my husband liked… At that moment, I longed for my husband's big penis, for him to thrust into me forcefully, relentlessly until he killed me. I wanted it so badly, immediately.
I wanted it so badly. My husband's penis was so hard, pressing against me, filling me completely, even my heart.
But my husband didn't move. The feeling when his penis pierced my vagina was completely different, like a surge of heat rushing in, from deep within my vagina straight to my brain, making my limbs go numb and weak. I gasped, "This is it... the familiar hardness I don't need to see, the love I can feel intuitively." My husband didn't move, and I felt satisfied without him moving. If he moved, I might reach orgasm immediately. In
my heart, I cried out, "Husband, please move! It's so itchy inside, why won't you penetrate me?" Then the person came to my face, kneeling down, gently holding my limp head and asking tenderly, "Is it comfortable?" I almost screamed, "Yes! Penetrate me! Please penetrate me!" I knew the reason my husband didn't move was because he couldn't hold on... Then the situation changed. The masseur was watching me and my husband make love, watching his hot, red penis penetrate my vagina. This was another feeling, the feeling of being watched by a stranger. This feeling made me even hotter, and I wanted my husband to thrust into me harder, without any mercy.
We were locked in a stalemate, with my husband occasionally making a slight thrust, and at those moments, my nerves felt like they were being burned… The man just gently stroked my hair, touching me lightly, doing nothing. His condom was off, and his penis was drooping, completely unlike its previous grandeur. It wasn't completely shrunken; the length remained the same, but it was soft, and the two testicles hung there fragilely and helplessly.
Many people think that women like hard, lively penises, but they don't know that a penis resting right after sex evokes even more tenderness. Women love weak little creatures, just like I like it when my husband kisses my breasts, feeling a maternal instinct rise from within. At this moment, I felt the same way about these two drooping testicles. Although this man was physically strong, he had such a vulnerable side, making me want to kiss it.
I tried to extend my buttocks backward, and although my husband seemed to have controlled himself, he didn't thrust into me as forcefully as before, just gently and slowly. The more I couldn't have it, the more my desire was aroused; my heart felt like it was being weighed down by a huge stone. The man began to caress my breasts, kiss my earlobe, and murmur praises of my chest… My husband started moving, shouting as he thrust, “Eat his, Juanjuan, you eat his.” "Although it wasn't as vigorous as before, it felt millions of times more comfortable. My husband's penis was inside me, thrusting back and forth, making me feel so uncomfortable. It exploded, and my vision blurred like a rainbow. It was coming, I knew it was coming. My husband had thrust me to the very top, my soul was being pulled out.
Yes, I wanted to eat his penis, I screamed in my heart, I want to eat it, I want to eat it! The man straightened up, his penis was right in front of me, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't reach it with my mouth open. My body swayed during the thrusting... All I could do was grab it, but even grabbing it was so difficult. I had to support myself with one hand and hold his penis with the other. The penis quickly hardened in my hand, so hard, harder than all the penises in the world combined, like a red-hot iron rod... but I could
n't reach it. 'Do you like it?' the man groaned and asked me. 'Do you like it?' Without hesitation, I shouted, 'I like it!'" "I've forgotten what shame is, I'm just screaming and yelling, trying to scream out all my desires. I'll die if I don't scream, my husband's penis is at its lowest point, I feel like it's going to break inside me.
My husband's strength is increasing, one orgasm after another, I can't see what I'm holding anymore, I want everything, I think I've gone crazy.
I can't take it anymore, I put down that penis, just let it dangle in front of my eyes... It's so dark, so shiny, it's begging me to satisfy it, to make it explode, to spray all over my face. I know, I hear that shiny penis calling to me, as my husband thrusts his penis in and out, hitting my face, it's so beautiful, I want to eat it, to swallow it... I shout, 'Pull-up, big penis!' The penis is right in front of me, my husband's penis is penetrating me. 'What?' My husband roars as if he didn't hear me. 'Pull-up! Big penis!'" "My husband's speed is getting faster and faster. I know he's going to... he'll fill my vagina with lots of semen, flood it. I'm overwhelmed by orgasm, and there's a thick, hard penis swaying in front of me. I shout, 'It's a big penis, such a big penis!'" "Fuck me, I want a big stick to fuck me..." In daily life, or even in my mind, I think I'm a conservative woman. Actually, I guess most women are like me, having some cute nicknames for men or their own body parts. For example, I like to call my husband's penis "stick"... Oh! When it's soft, I call it "bird." Occasionally, when I'm out, like in the market, if I hear someone swearing, I immediately feel extremely uncomfortable. I think this is a constraint that women are taught through upbringing!
My husband led me into this world of lewd talk. At first, I refused, but later I reluctantly learned. At first, I got worse and worse, having to think about what to say while making love, to the point where I didn't even know where to put my legs. Until one time, my husband made me feel so good that I was about to die. He was excited and told me to shout, and suddenly, without thinking, those lewd words just flowed out naturally... Really! When you shout those taboos out loud without any regard for anything, all the rules disappear.
But unless my husband calls me, commands me, and I happen to be in the throes of impending climax, I wouldn't normally think of these kinds of inappropriate phrases, even during sex. I'm writing this now just to record the situation… But right now, as I type, I'm truly immersed in the moment, indulging myself through these words, feeling that unbridled, liberating pleasure. My husband pulled out at the last second, his thick, hot semen shooting onto my back like a rocket… I was so disappointed. He knew I usually take birth control pills, those pills that give me headaches and make me nauseous, all because I loved him ejaculating inside me, filling me with love.
I collapsed, panting, feeling my husband gently wiping my back with a tissue, tenderly.
That man's penis—no! His thick, hard penis was right in front of me, still erect… Although I was tired, I didn't feel satisfied, a void lingering between my legs after my husband's departure. I think I've truly let go. Relying on my husband's love, I dare to do anything, and most importantly, my husband likes me to be this wanton. He wants me to discard all shame and enjoy everything I can grasp at this moment.
I reached out and started touching it, just gently caressing it, not intentionally, but this hard, big rod just happened to be right in front of me. I hadn't paid much attention before, but now I noticed that it was really different from my husband's, though different, it was equally adorable. Its back was slightly thicker, especially the inverted triangular cone-shaped glans, which was particularly fun, like a sharp spear that could pierce one's heart.
I don't know where the strength came from, but I slightly propped myself up, tilted my head back, and leaned forward to kiss his glans! I didn't really dare to suck it, just used my tongue to circle around his glans, gently touching it. At this moment, I felt his glans twitch twice on my tongue, like an independent little life... It was really beautiful, the most beautiful part of a man is this. I couldn't resist taking it all in my mouth, feeling it throb within me, the most beautiful glans seeming to swell even more.
My husband lay beside me, watching me with a smile. I knew he wanted to watch me eat, and the flames of desire that had just been extinguished reignited in his eyes. So I ate even more enthusiastically, stuffing the whole thing into my mouth, pulling it out, and then putting it back in. Sometimes I held it in my hand, punishing the unruly glans with my tongue, watching it swell to its limit, anticipating its bursting open and releasing millions of seeds. My husband reached out and touched my bare shoulder, panting, sighing, and groaning.
"Do you like it?" my husband asked softly. I couldn't answer with it in my mouth, yet I didn't want to spit it out, so I could only nod as I held it, shouting in my heart, "I like it so much! I like it so much!" His testicles were so soft; I could feel what was inside that fleshy sac—that was what I wanted, the source of a man's allure.
Everything before me was gnawing at me, my heart itching, so itchy. "Do you want to fuck him? I want you to fuck him, fuck him to death!" My husband breathed into my ear, his warm breath driving me crazy, the madness starting from my genitals.
I wanted it, of course I wanted it, I wanted to use my own pussy to fuck this incredibly thick rod to death! Fuck this unruly rod to death. I spat out the rod, pushed the man down, I couldn't wait a second longer, that empty feeling in my pussy needed to be filled with a rod, and then I couldn't wait to mount him... I first grabbed that throbbing rod, looked at my husband, and my husband was smiling at me, I sat down. This time the rod didn't have a condom, because my mind was blank except for that big rod.
So full, really so full, it felt like the thickest and biggest rod in the world was about to pierce into my stomach. I screamed, wildly moving up and down, using the last bit of strength I had left. He lifted his hips, then slammed them down, each time penetrating deep inside me, hitting my chest. I never knew sex could feel so good. I loved it, wishing the world would stop, wishing the end of the world would come… Then an orgasm surged from my lower body, knocking me down. I lay on top of him, panting, panting uncontrollably… He was so wet, I was practically sitting on a huge puddle of sticky love juice and semen, my pubic hair mingling with his.
His limp penis slid out of my wetness. Although I wanted to grab it back, I was already satisfied, I couldn't take any more, any more and I would die instantly. I trembled, the uncontrollable tide surging inside me, I couldn't stop shaking. I dragged myself forward and kissed him, cupping his face, exploring the soul of this stranger. I found myself completely captivated by his penis.
The tongue that had just licked my genitals was now burrowing in my mouth, like a little snake. I hugged him tightly, wanting to bury myself completely in his body. His chest was so broad; I wanted to curl up in his arms and never leave.
He didn't let me go. He lifted me up and laid me flat on my back. Before him, I felt as helpless as a straw. I spread my legs wide, to my absolute limit, waiting, waiting for him to come and fuck me with that huge rod, to fuck me to death. I screamed when he entered me! I screamed! Oh! I thrust my hips towards him, the sound of our bodies colliding almost drowning out the entire room. I wanted him to fuck me, to fuck me hard, without any mercy.
He kept thrusting, grabbing my legs, exposing my entire lower body. I liked it. I wanted to give him my most precious place, to let him see it clearly. My pussy was there, he could do whatever he wanted with it, I just wanted him to fuck me hard. He thrust so hard; I only knew I was swaying my upper body from side to side. I wanted freedom, I wanted that freedom I'd never had before. I thought we'd reached our limit during sex, but no, another orgasm came, again and again.
I screamed, "Fuck me, please!" It was the only plea I could muster, the only thing I wanted.
Then he sped up, his entire penis seemed to be inside me, and I felt his rod throbbing inside me. I knew he'd ejaculated, all inside me. I grabbed his neck, wanting him to press down on me, wanting his semen to melt inside me, to let his hordes of semen surge within me.
He leaned against the headboard, and I sat in his lap, still playing with my adorable penis. My husband sat opposite us… We were all tired, exhausted, and it was all over. We were smiling at each other.
"Jealous?" I asked my husband, looking into his eyes, sitting on him. "Look at him, I really like him, I like having him inside me."
"No!" My husband's smile vanished, his expression turning serious. "I want you to be happy, to go crazy, to have everything. Otherwise, why did you marry me?" His penis hardened again. I turned around, kissed him, and then lifted my waist, hugging his strong neck.
Half-squatting, I took his hard glans into my wet vagina, and my love juices started flowing again, flowing through my heart. His glans throbbed inside me. Turning back to my husband, I asked, "So, how about this?" He smiled and nodded… I suddenly sat down, letting his entire penis penetrate me. I paused for a while, until I managed to control my emotions. I slowly leaned back into my husband's arms and said, "My vagina is stuffed with someone else's big penis! It's so big, my vagina is so itchy, I want him to fuck me, let his big penis be inside my vagina for you to see, okay… Will you kiss me?
I want you to kiss me!" His penis was inside me, so deep, and I almost frowned as I said this.
"I like it when someone else does you, just because you like it!" My husband kissed me, and I lay in his arms, my legs draped over his shoulders, watching his penis thrust in and out of my vagina. My
husband was outside alone; the masseur and I were in the bathroom. He was carefully washing every inch of my skin with the showerhead. As he knelt on the floor, touching my thighs, a pang of sadness rose within me… It was time to part; he was leaving. I helped him up, searching his body, trying to find something to hold onto as a memento. His penis pressed against my lower abdomen, so warm and comfortable.
I knelt on the floor, sucking his penis, swallowing it all the way down my throat, the shower water spraying over my back. The bathroom was separated by frosted glass; though not transparent, I could probably see my reflection… Perhaps my husband knew what I was doing, perhaps not, but this was my first affair.
It was true, I really wanted to make love to him alone, in the most private setting, without anyone disturbing us. “Just one more time, please? Just one more time!” I pleaded, looking up at him.
He lifted me up, suspending me in mid-air, his entire penis inside me. My legs were tightly wrapped around his waist, my arms around his neck. I should have felt fear, but I didn't; I just leaned on his broad shoulders… and then I cried. I didn't make a sound, silently enduring the pleasure, accepting the end of an extraordinary encounter, reaching orgasm almost immediately. It was ridiculous, but I truly believed I could make him remember me this way, this ordinary woman who had once clung to him.
As he was about to leave after taking the money, I asked for his contact information. He then took out a pen and said he wanted to write his phone number on my thigh. So I lifted my skirt, revealing the thigh he had just touched. After he left, my husband and I did it again. I quietly told my husband that I had arranged for my sister to pick up our son, so we could stay there as long as we wanted. In fact, we didn't leave the hotel until the next day, and I've forgotten how many times we came that day.
Afterwards, I went to see that masseur several more times alone.
I still felt itchy in the places that were supposed to be itchy, and I was still aroused in the places that were supposed to be aroused. I arched my back and let him caress me. I felt that this man was not only stronger than my husband, but his tongue was also more skillful when licking my genitals, and he was more patient when caressing me. Many of his delicate touches moved me, and I felt happiness in each orgasm.

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