It's not my fault, it's all the red wine's fault.

It wasn't my fault, it was all the red wine's fault.
Author: Unknown.
This happened in the summer. My wife and I had just returned home from our honeymoon, and my mother said to me, "You're back just in time. Your
relatives in the countryside have finished building their new house. According to custom, our whole family goes back to the countryside to congratulate them. You should prepare yourself; you might
have to stay there for one night." That afternoon, we all took a car back to the countryside. The relatives' new house had three floors: the first floor was the living room and
kitchen, the second floor was the guest rooms, and the relatives lived on the third floor. So, my wife and I shared one of the two guest rooms on the second floor,
and my parents shared the other. Because everyone was busy that day, we didn't start dinner until about nine o'clock.
Dinner was very lively. The relatives had prepared many good dishes to entertain us, and they also brought out several bottles of red wine. It
seemed like everyone was going to drink until they were completely drunk, so we toasted each other.
After a while, I noticed that my wife and mother's faces had turned red. They said they couldn't drink anymore, but everyone insisted
they drink a few more glasses. After they reluctantly drank a few more glasses of red wine, they said they were feeling a little dizzy and needed to go upstairs to their
rooms to rest. Looking at their slightly swaying bodies, I knew they were almost drunk, but they were pretending to be
fine to maintain appearances.
That night, after the last bottle of red wine was finished, everyone was quite tipsy. The relatives hastily cleaned up the dishes and
went back to the third floor to rest. My father and I helped each other back to the second floor. We couldn't find a light switch in the hallway, so we all
went back to our rooms in the dark. To avoid waking my wife, I didn't turn on the light either. I carefully walked to the bedside, and in
the dim moonlight, I saw my wife sleeping soundly on her side. So I took off my clothes and got into bed, thinking that I would
fall asleep easily after drinking. But tonight, for some reason, I felt hot all over, and my penis gradually became erect
. Looking at my wife, who had also drunk quite a bit that night, sleeping soundly beside me...
Alas, I couldn't resist the urge, so I had to take matters into my own hands. So I gently pulled down my wife's pajama bottoms and underwear, and reached down
to stroke the plump area between her legs. After only a few touches, the small slit in the middle of that plump area became wet, so I took out my
hot, hard penis and inserted it into that slit. Instantly, a warm, wet, and comfortable feeling came from my penis. I reached down to touch my wife
's breasts, and they felt much bigger than usual, and very nice to touch! I also felt that my wife's figure was plumper than usual, and her buttocks were also larger
, making "slap, slap" sounds with my thrusts. Finally, I couldn't control myself and ejaculated my hot semen into
my wife's body.
And she was still sleeping so soundly. After I finished, I got out of bed, turned on the light, and went to get a drink of water. After a few cups of tea, my head was much clearer
. I glanced into the room unintentionally, "Huh?" Why is my wife's hair shorter? She usually has long hair. So,
I approached with a puzzled look, and suddenly my mind went blank. The woman sleeping on the bed
wasn't my wife, but my mother. I thought it was a hallucination from drinking, so I rubbed my eyes a few times and looked again. But the truth
was undeniable: the middle-aged woman sleeping on the bed had short hair and a slightly plump figure—it was my mother. And what was even more
undeniable was that my semen was still slowly flowing from her genitals. What was going on?
I remembered—my father and I must have drunk quite a bit tonight, and we'd all gone into the wrong room. Oh
no! What if my wife—? Thinking this, I hurriedly went to my room next door. Luckily, the door was ajar,
and the light was off. I had just pushed the door open a little, intending to slip inside, when
suddenly I heard a sound I least wanted to hear and saw a scene I least wanted to see. In the dim
moonlight, I saw my wife, still drunk and not yet fully sober, lying naked on the bed. A middle-aged man, also naked, was
ravaging her, causing the bed to creak under the weight. I didn't
need to look closely to know who the man was. What to do? Should I rush in to stop him or retreat? In the end, I chose to retreat
, because if I rushed in, things would escalate, and no one would be able to save face. Another reason was that
I had just slept with his wife, who was also my mother. Reluctantly, I returned to the room and saw
my mother still sleeping naked. Although she was middle-aged, she was well-maintained. Although slightly plump, her body
exuded a mature and alluring sensuality. What caught my attention most was the mound between her legs, like a steamed bun. My
mother's labia were deep red, long and exposed—the result of long-term penile penetration. Gazing at my mother's
mature and plump vulva, my penis involuntarily rose.
Sigh, it's a mistake, Mom, please let me do it one more time. Thinking this, I turned off the light and went to bed. On the bed,
I shamelessly raped my mother, since her husband was in the next room playing with my wife. My mother's mature
vagina was indeed a different kind of pleasure. My wife's vagina was delicate and narrow, while my mother's was mature and plump.
After climaxing on my mother's mature and full body for over an hour, I finally ejaculated deep into her vagina. Poor mother,
having drunk too much, was completely unaware of what was happening to her. Looking at my still-sleeping mother, I quietly helped her
get dressed and cleaned up the mess. Afterwards, I went downstairs pretending to watch TV, turning the volume up.
Sure enough, my father came down after a while, saying he couldn't sleep and wanted to watch TV.
During this time, both father and son watched TV absentmindedly; everyone knew what was going on. After turning off the TV, everyone went upstairs
to their rooms to sleep. Of course, this time no one went into the wrong room. When I returned to my room, I saw my wife fast asleep in her pajamas.
Everything was so peaceful, as if nothing had happened. It seemed my father had cleaned up the mess well. But how could I be
fooled by appearances? I gently pulled down my wife's underwear and saw that her genitals were a mess, her pubic hair was askew, and
her two swollen labia were half-open, with a stream of semen slowly flowing out. Looking at my wife, still fast asleep
, unaware that she had been raped, I was furious. But then I thought, I haven't really lost out.
The next day, in the car on the way home, my father and I remained silent because we felt guilty. My wife and mother, however,
chatted and laughed, unaware that their vaginas still contained traces of each other's husbands' semen.
Sigh, it was all the red wine's fault.

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