Let's get a divorce.

In 2016, my ex-wife and I divorced amicably. She was my first love, but I wasn't hers. During the ten years we lived together, she secretly maintained contact with her ex-boyfriend. They were deeply in love. However, her family strongly opposed their relationship, leading to their breakup, and her boyfriend went to another city to pursue his career. Later, we married, and things were initially very sweet. However, the following year, she always said she was working overtime and often came home very late. Then one day, she suddenly said to me, "Let's get a divorce." I was stunned. She said calmly, "He came back to me. I love him very much, and I don't want to continue deceiving him. I want to be with him." I asked her how long it had been, and she said, "About six months." My heart ached terribly; I wanted to cry but couldn't. She later said, "After he came back, he always came to my workplace, crying very sadly each time. I really love him too, and I want to have a child with him..." Later, I found out they had slept together, and every time she had sex with him, she was tormented by guilt towards me. I loved her so much, I was almost going crazy. I vented my anger on her, and she just sat there silently. We lay back to back all night, and she didn't sleep either. I couldn't sleep either; I kept crying. Later, I turned around and hugged her, and she lay silently in my arms. The next morning, she left early, leaving me a note saying, "She's been staying at her mother's house these days, and I shouldn't go looking for her." I felt a deep desolation, a mix of sadness and heartache, and even more jealousy. During the day, I went to her workplace to look for her, but people there said she had asked for some days off and was on sick leave.

That evening, I went to my in-laws' house, but she stayed in her room and wouldn't come out to see me. My mother-in-law asked if we had argued, but I couldn't say, and I couldn't say. I just said, "We had a little disagreement." I forced a smile and ate dinner, then hurriedly fled back home. I couldn't hold back my emotions anymore; I wanted to cry. I went through the most difficult week, and from the initial sadness and jealousy, I slowly began to calm down. I asked myself if I loved her, and a voice in my head answered, "Very much." I recalled all the happy, sweet days we spent together, and I lost a lot of weight. I found a solution: as long as she didn't leave me, I would forgive her and him. Even if she had a child with him, I would raise it as my own. I made up my mind not to lose my temper with her anymore, and I would treat her very well every day. I believed that sincerity would win her heart back. For those few days, I kept thinking about this outcome, and I slowly began to calm down. I felt it wasn't a big deal; loving someone means sacrifice, and I firmly believed that doing so was the right thing to do. One day, she came back to get her clothes, and I immediately hugged her, not letting her leave. I sat on the bed without saying a word and told her my thoughts. She coldly said, "Can you do that? You're a man, don't be so subservient." I still begged her, telling her I would do it. I hugged her, saying I wouldn't let her leave no matter what. She looked at me and said, "Okay~~~ I'll stay at home and not go anywhere else. Let's see how long you can endure it." That night, I held her tightly, and she slept stiffly in my arms all night. The next day, as she left, she tossed me a sentence: "I'm going to spend the day with him, I'll be back late tonight, don't wait for me for dinner," then looked at my face coldly. I thought she was trying to provoke me. I had to restrain myself, so I forced a smile and said, "Okay, whatever makes you happy, I'll tidy up the house during the day." She said, "Okay then," and left without looking back. I sat there dumbfounded all day, knowing what they were doing. Later, I still mustered my energy and tidied the house beautifully, thinking that only tolerance could win back her heart. It was almost 11 p.m. when she came back. She put me on a chair, lay down on the bed without taking off her clothes, and fell asleep. I went up to her but didn't hug her, and she ignored me. I took off her clothes, but she ignored me again.

I still couldn't help but ask her, "Did you two do it today?" She raised an eyebrow: "Yes." I asked, "Was it good?" She tilted her head and looked at me: "Of course it was good." I know you want evidence, right? The evidence is right here, she pointed to her breasts. I also noticed several red marks on her white breasts, clearly bite marks. I suppressed my jealousy and impulse, thinking, "I like it when he bites you," and gently stroked the marks. She coldly said, "Let's see how long you can endure it." I felt she was going too far, so I said, "Fine, I'll fuck you now, let's see if I fuck you better or he." I touched her genitals, and she immediately covered herself, saying, "Don't touch me, it hurts." "To be honest, I did it with him four times today." I ignored her and spread her legs, seeing her vulva was swollen and red. She coldly said, "You saw it all, didn't you?" I ignored her and gently licked her labia with the tip of my tongue; I knew she had a strong sex drive. After a while, she started moaning softly. I parted her vulva and said, "So stimulating, like after being fucked." She squeezed out three words through gritted teeth, "You pervert." I really went crazy. Seeing my wife's vagina, which had been used by someone else all day, actually made my penis hard, but she wouldn't let me penetrate her, saying it really hurt. Later, she willingly sucked the semen out with her mouth, and then she became much gentler, softly wrapping her arms around my neck. She asked me, "Do you really love me that much? Are you really willing to do these things for me?" I nodded. She kissed my cheek: "Honey, I really don't want to leave you either, but I really love him so much. Please forgive me." I hugged her without saying anything. For a while afterward, we didn't argue anymore, and she didn't verbally provoke me like that. I knew she would still sleep with him, but I accepted it. We still had normal sex, and sometimes I would jokingly ask her: "Is his penis bigger, or mine?" She said they each had their own characteristics: his was short and thick, and it felt full when it went in. Yours was long, not as thick as his, but it went in deeper. I still often noticed the teeth marks on her body, and I often saw her swollen nipples from his fucking. At this point, I didn't force her to have sex. Instead, I gently licked her genitals, trying to heal her wounds. Sometimes, I would lovingly say, "Next time, when he penetrates you, be gentle, don't be too forceful, or you might hurt her." She would just smile and say, "No, I won't." But after a few months, I noticed she was getting increasingly tired, constantly busy with both of us men. It was like a shift system; he would finish, then I would take over. I felt sorry for her, and I slowly came to understand that letting go is a beautiful thing.

Finally, one day, I mustered up the courage to say to her, "Let's get a divorce." She stared at me blankly for a long time, then kissed my cheek and hugged my neck; "Your husband doesn't want to leave you either, but if this continues, we'll both get hurt." We divorced peacefully. I spent another five or six years in the north, quitting my job and going into business with a friend, achieving some success. During those years, I met many women, but I didn't want to get married again. I found my tastes had completely changed. I had a particular fondness for married women. I enjoyed riding on top of them, brutally abusing and humiliating them, leaving them with no dignity whatsoever. When I aroused them, I would thrust into them hard while making them scream that I was fucking them, making them shout, "Husband, someone else is fucking me, it feels so good!" I discovered they enjoyed this feeling of betrayal even more. I remember one married woman whose husband taught in another city. She was very sexy and beautiful, and her sex life was incredibly intense. She had been raped before, by two men in a bar room who gang-raped her. She said she was terrified, but she achieved an orgasm she had never experienced before. So she became obsessed with that feeling. Her husband always thought she was very obedient and knew nothing about these things. Later, I invited a friend to have sex with her on her bed at home. The two men thrust into her together, and she almost fainted. I stripped her of all dignity, tying her naked to a chair like a female prisoner, making her spread her legs, and the two of us took turns interrogating her by digging into her vagina. When asked how many men had slept with her, how they gang-raped her, and how her husband had sex with her, she mumbled incoherently as if in a daze, her mouth open and red, with fluids flowing everywhere. Later, we did this to her a few more times, but my friend felt it was going too far and told us to stop. Eventually, we got tired of her and dumped her. Now I'm thirty-three, divorced for seven years, a successful businessman, though I've also been with many women. But I can't forget my ex-wife from those years. I kept seeking out married women to vent my emotions; I know this is a serious psychological problem. Now I think I need to let go, to stop thinking about my ex-wife. I want a change of environment, a place where nobody knows me, to rediscover myself.

[The End]

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Let's get a divorce.

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