He enjoys watching his beautiful wife make love with an old man [Full Text]

(1)
I've been quite busy lately. I just saw my wife off and wanted to say a few words.

This Thursday was American Independence Day, and my wife took a day off on Friday, making it four days in total, to come see me. My wife works at an investment bank in City C, where she is responsible for business dealings with institutional clients (hedge funds, insurance companies, etc.). For example, if a fund needs to buy one million shares of Microsoft stock, they will call my wife to ask for a quote. Simply put, my wife works in investment banking and securities sales. In this line of work, in addition to having good language communication skills, the most important thing is to maintain good relationships with clients and have a stable client base. Therefore, most people in this line of work are beautiful, and my wife is no exception.

My wife is very beautiful, the kind that you will never forget. She also has a great figure, with a cup size between C and D, the real American standard (the size you get when buying lingerie at Victoria's Secret, unlike Asian lingerie which is generally exaggerated). Her breasts are fair and full, her waist is slender and supple, and her buttocks are round and firm. Perhaps it's because my wife is beautiful, and coupled with the recent surge in the S&P 500, her performance has been excellent. She was recently promoted and, at only twenty-something, is already "accepting clients" independently. "Accepting clients" is a joke in investment banking, meaning she can contact clients privately, with her acting as an assistant.

Because she's independent, my wife has dinner with clients once or twice a week—so-called business dinners. It's really just to maintain good relationships and to get insider information, such as ongoing mergers and acquisitions or unreleased company financial statements. These are theoretically forbidden discussions because they involve insider trading, but everyone does it. The key is to maintain a proper distance and not leave a trace.

Most clients are very professional, especially larger institutional clients, because the help is mutual. However, some clients, especially men, tend to behave inappropriately around beautiful women, especially after drinking. Since I'm out of town and not with my wife, I'm quite bothered by this.

Once, I stayed with my wife for a short time, and she had dinner with a client that evening. After dinner, she and I agreed to go to a bar together. We agreed to meet at 9:45 PM in front of the restaurant where they were having dinner. I arrived early and waited for my wife at a nearby coffee shop. Around 9:30 PM, I saw my wife come out with a white man in his early thirties. My wife was wearing a short-sleeved skirt suit, looking beautiful and capable, but she seemed a little unsteady on her feet, perhaps because she had been drinking. The man reached out to put his arm around her waist, which she politely declined. However, the man still leaned closer to her. He was very handsome, and his sharp suit made him look even more confident. My wife dodged his attempt to put his arm around her, but the man took the opportunity to grope her buttocks. My wife was startled but didn't know how to react.

The man hailed a taxi. My wife was about to say goodbye, but he seemed determined to get her into the taxi with him. I got angry as soon as I saw this, and without thinking, I rushed out of the coffee shop, grabbed my wife, punched the white man, and knocked him into the taxi, saying, "Get out!"

Afterwards, my wife didn't blame me. She just told me not to be so reckless in the future. She also said she was very happy because I would protect her from harm.

But what my wife didn't know was that before this...

(2)
That time I went to stay with my wife for a while. One night, she called me and said she had drunk too much and couldn't drive. She asked me to take the subway to the fifth floor of a parking lot in the city to meet her. She was waiting for me in her car and asked me to drive her back.

It takes about an hour and a half to get to that parking lot from my wife's apartment by subway. But when I received the call, I had just met a friend nearby and had a few drinks, so it only took me about ten minutes to get there by subway. My wife hung up the phone very quickly and didn't give me a chance to explain the situation.

My wife's car keys were on my keychain, and since I had nothing else to do, I decided to wait for her in the parking lot.

When I got there, I didn't find her car on the fifth floor. I wondered if she had made a mistake, so I searched floor by floor until I reached the second basement level, where there were long-term parking spaces with many cars parked there for weeks

. I didn't want to look there, but somehow, I found myself heading deeper into the parking lot. The underground parking lot was much larger than the surface one, but due to the surrounding buildings, there were many turns and bends. Deep inside, one of the lights seemed to be broken, making the light very dim, but I could faintly hear voices. I turned my head and glanced into the distance, vaguely seeing the rear of my wife's red convertible.

The environment and the lighting naturally made me have bad thoughts, so when I quietly approached and peeked through the gap between two pillars, I saw my wife being pressed against the back of the convertible by a strange man. My anger outweighed my surprise. But when I saw the man's graying, slightly balding hair, my anger inexplicably turned into… something else.

The man looked to be in his fifties. His wife kept calling his name and saying "no," so they clearly knew each other. He was quite stocky. He sat sideways in the driver's seat on the left, his strong arm pressing his wife down onto the right side. His large, hairy hands had already ripped open his wife's white silk blouse, revealing a semi-transparent black lace bra underneath. I knew his wife's blouse was somewhat see-through, but she was wearing a semi-transparent black lace bra underneath. I guessed this old lecher had been drooling over her breasts all night. But perhaps his wife hadn't expected him to be so bold. His

wife struggled weakly. The old lecher would sometimes whisper promises in her ear, and sometimes forcefully pull at her bra straps. His wife's hair, which had been styled up, was now loose, her long, black hair highlighting her fair and beautiful face. The loose strands on her shoulders made her skin appear as delicate and white as an ivory carving inlaid with ebony. Her slender hands were like a last fortress protecting the straps of her bra, preventing the lecherous old man from succeeding.

The old man was getting impatient and embarrassed. He lowered his head and bit his wife's firm breast through her lace bra, making "smacking" sounds with his hairy mouth. But at this moment, I felt no anger at all. On the contrary, my penis began to erect... The lace pattern, driven by the old lecher's tongue, stimulated my wife's nipples. I thought, my wife must be having a hard time, because her nipples are one of her most sensitive spots. Her resistance had turned into...

[The text abruptly ends here, likely due to an incomplete translation or a formatting error.] Between the two, her breasts appeared firm and full, yet not cumbersome. The skin of her breasts was as delicate and smooth as tofu; holding them in my hand, my palm felt the fullness of the flesh while my fingertips felt the smooth, pleasant texture. My wife's nipples were of moderate size, like two plump, glistening pomegranate seeds, and when I put them in my mouth, they had a natural milky fragrance.

At this moment, seeing the old lecher's hairy, stubble-covered mouth take my wife's pink nipple into his mouth, seeing his disgusting saliva covering her nipple, I became almost uncontrollably aroused. Instinctively, I began to reach out... My hand followed the shorts to my penis, and a strange, unspoken anticipation stirred within me. I didn't understand what was wrong with me. Why was I furious when my wife was being groped by a handsome man, but now, facing this gray-haired old man, I only felt excitement?

My mind was a mess; I just silently watched the lecherous old man revel in my wife's breasts. My wife still didn't give up resisting. She tried to push away the old man who was clinging to her breasts like a suction cup, and said to him seriously, "Let me go! I'm married!"

Having just tasted the sweetness of success, the old lecher was unwilling to give up easily, but his wife seemed resolute, covering her chest with her hands again. Seeing that his erection wasn't working, the old lecher seemed to change tactics, whispering something in his wife's ear. At this moment, I felt a little disappointed, and my penis was starting to soften.

The old lecher tried very hard to persuade his wife, her cheeks flushed, but she finally nodded shyly. Excitedly, the old lecher reclined the driver's seat, lay down, and then pulled his wife's hand to his crotch.

His wife sat up, her back to me, her smooth, straight, jet-black hair cascading over her loose white shirt, revealing her fair shoulders. One bra strap was still dangling to one side; although I couldn't see her face, I imagined one of her breasts was still exposed to the old lecher… My penis hardened again… My wife reached down and unzipped the old lecher's pants, pulling out his old penis from his underwear. His penis was still somewhat soft, and the foreskin seemed to have wrinkled. Perhaps due to the lighting, his glans was white, like a small egg. Although not fully erect, his penis was already the size of a thick cucumber, barely large enough for his wife's slender hand to grasp. One could imagine how powerful it must have been in his youth.

His wife began to rub the old lecher's penis. Clearly, she had agreed to let him masturbate her; perhaps this was a compromise. The old lecher, however, seemed unsatisfied. He reached behind his wife's shirt, seemingly trying to unhook her bra. This time, his wife didn't resist, merely responding by stroking the old lecher's penis with her small hand.

The old lecher unhooked his wife's bra, then pulled her shirt off one arm. The shirt slipped off her shoulder, revealing her snow-white back. His wife was slender, with a smooth and beautiful curve to her back. The old lecher stroked his wife's bare back with his hairy hand, enjoying the service of her slender fingers. His penis became thick and large, with sticky fluid flowing from the huge glans, glistening under the light. His wife's fair and tender hands also glistened... I couldn't help but reach into my shorts and start to slowly masturbate, grasping his hot penis... The old pervert pulled the bra strap off his wife's bare shoulder. Although the other bra strap was still hanging on the arm his wife was using to masturbate him, his wife's breasts were now completely exposed to the old pervert's eyes. The old lecher's hand reached behind his wife, pushing her body forward. Her exposed breast was practically right in front of his mouth. Although I couldn't see it, the sounds coming from his mouth said it all—he was definitely sucking on her pink nipple… For some reason, a strong, electric shock-like stimulation coursed through my entire body, filling every pore and capillary with excitement. I unconsciously increased the speed of my masturbation, even anticipating the scene of the old lecher's large penis penetrating my wife's vagina. Her vagina must be overflowing with moisture, right?

So when my wife suddenly straightened up, I felt an even stronger surge of excitement, my mind filled with lust, imagining my wife lifting her skirt, straddling the old lecher's penis, and using her wet vagina to envelop him… But instead, my wife reached for tissues in the car. While I was lost in my fantasies and didn't notice, the old lecher had already ejaculated.

For some reason, I felt a little disappointed. Although looking back on the scene—my beautiful wife giving an old man a handjob while I was masturbating—it seems incredibly absurd, deep down I still felt unsatisfied.

That night, I fucked my wife wildly. She had multiple orgasms, but I still felt unsatisfied and not excited enough. In the middle of the night, I got up to go to the toilet and saw my wife's pantyhose and underwear that she had changed out of while taking a shower in the laundry basket. I picked up her black lace thong. There was still my wife's vaginal fluid on the thin strap that passed through her vagina. My wife's pantyhose and the part of her vagina that covered her vagina were also wet. Thinking of the scene in the parking lot that night, I got hard again. I put my wife's lace thong and pantyhose on my penis and started masturbating. I started to fantasize about my wife being fucked by that uncle's penis again. (3) On the night my wife came to my place on National Day, I was very nervous. I didn't know if I should do that. I kept thinking and fantasizing, thinking and fantasizing, rational and irrational, rational and irrational. But when I looked at my wife's wet hair, her firm breasts and her long legs after taking a shower, my evil desire was ignited again.

The pink pill dissolved in the red wine, leaving no trace. The pill was slightly bitter, but the wine's flavor perfectly masked it… Twenty minutes later, my wife, wearing a white see-through nightgown, collapsed onto the sofa. She wasn't completely asleep, but she wasn't fully conscious either—that was the effect of the pink pill. I hesitated again, but an indescribable excitement made me grab the phone:

“Hello, China Building? Is this Old Li? I want takeout. Chief special. You know what I mean.

The door's unlocked. Same as always. This time it'll definitely be better than last time!”

I turned on my webcam, grabbed my thin laptop, and went to the rooftop terrace. I sat in the dark storage room on the terrace, watching what was happening at home through the webcam. Fifteen minutes later, Old Li arrived, knocked on the door, and then pushed it open. He placed the plastic bag he was carrying on the living room table. Then he stared at my wife, who was slumped on the sofa. He seemed a little dazed. But immediately, a glint appeared in his triangular eyes. He was balding and probably in his fifties.

He tentatively called his wife's name a few times, then touched her white, lotus-like arms to make sure she was alright. He then helped her sit upright on the sofa.

Then he lowered his head and kissed her lips—damn, he actually kissed his wife!

His hand, through her nightgown, went directly to her mons pubis. Damn… but my dick is hard! He wrapped his arms around her slender waist and pressed his body against hers to kiss her… He parted the straps of her nightgown, revealing her breasts. He lay on top of her, pinning her hands to the back of the sofa, his face pressed directly against her soft, white flesh. He rubbed his rough, old face against her delicate, full breasts while licking her small nipples with his tongue.

His wife's nipples hardened, and she let out a faint moan... Old Li looked up to kiss his wife again, and she instinctively stuck out her tongue. Old Li sucked on her tongue as if it were a treasure... His wife's body began to writhe, and Old Li lowered his head and bit her nipple. His hands enjoyed his wife's nipples, kneading them... Old Li continued to grab his wife's breasts with his hands, but his mouth moved downwards to kiss her. Old Li lifted his wife's nightgown, gazing intently at her pink, moist vulva... He licked her delicate labia, rubbed her clitoris, and inserted his fingers into her vagina... His erect penis, aimed at her vulva, entered her vagina, then fully slid in, filling her completely. He began thrusting... I ejaculated, even before Old Li... When I returned home, Old Li was gone. My wife was still leaning on the sofa, her nightgown lifted, white fluid flowing from her slightly reddened vulva... "Wife, I love you!" I whispered in her ear.

(Epilogue)
The first time Old Li had a good time was when he had sex with a Chinese girl named Lydia. I brought Lydia home, and we made love. Lydia slept in the living room. I called to order Chinese takeout, and Lao Li came to deliver it. He saw Lydia naked, so I let him have sex with her.

Lao Li is the owner of China House, which is actually just a small, family-run restaurant that only delivers takeout. Lao Li's wife is a smuggled immigrant. She's much younger than Lao Li, and she's quite pretty with a good figure. However, Lao Li's relationship with her is just so-so. After getting to know Lao Li better, he told me that his wife was smuggled across the Pacific Ocean by a smuggler.

After my wife left, I told Lao Li that he hadn't slept with some random girl that night, but with my wife. I told him he should feel better and treat her better in the future. Lao Li's eyes widened!

I still love my wife as always. Today is Friday, and my wife is having dinner with a client tonight. She said, "Don't worry, this time it's just an old man, there won't be any problems." But I started fantasizing again: Is there an old penis thrusting in and out of my wife's vagina right now?

(Please upvote if you like this, it gives me the courage to keep going!)

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He enjoys watching his beautiful wife make love with an old man [Full Text]

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