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Reposting: My husband discovered my masturbation. 

That day, my husband, whom I hadn't seen for nearly three months, finally returned. For days before, I had excitedly prepared for his return. When he finally stood before me, I was so excited I almost lost my composure and nearly cheered.

For dinner, I specially prepared a table full of his favorite dishes. While I cooked, he would hug me from behind from time to time, and at the table, he would feed me bite by bite. His deep love made me feel that all the loneliness I had endured for the past few months was worthwhile.

After dinner, my husband and I went for a walk on our usual tree-lined path. As soon as we returned, he went to take a shower. Afterward, he handed me a nightgown and said, "You should shower too." I knew what he meant—why he wanted me to shower so early. Actually, how could I not want to? In the bathroom, facing my full and curvaceous body in the mirror, thinking about the long-awaited pleasure I would receive in a few minutes, I couldn't help but gently stroke myself.

However, when I stood before my husband, my face flushed, I saw that his smile seemed somewhat forced. I thought he must be tired after a long day of travel. So, I leaned closer. We quickly reached the peak of pleasure, both of us breathless. My husband was very engaged during the act, but remained silent throughout. His silence made me uneasy. He used to whisper sweet nothings to me during sex.

Could his silence and forced smile mean… he had someone else? The thought made my heart ache. For construction technicians like him, who are constantly on the go, having someone else is nothing new; some people in his unit have done it. But then I thought, my husband doesn't seem like that kind of person. No matter how busy he is, he calls me almost every night, sometimes talking for tens of minutes straight. He gives almost all of his fieldwork allowance to the telecommunications company. His colleagues have even joked that "keeping a wife" costs more than "raising chickens." Yet he continues like this for years.

I really can't figure out why my husband is unhappy. Afterwards, he still silently held me. I gently asked him what was wrong, but he seemed to be giving an irrelevant answer: "I'm always busy outside, and you're working hard all alone at home." I said, "Actually, it's nothing, I just miss you so much. You must be very tired, right?" My husband was silent for a moment, then stammered, "I didn't mean to look for anything, but when you were showering just now, I wanted to find a book to read, and when

I was looking for the book, I saw an opened box of condoms in the drawer, I..." I knew why my husband was upset. We usually use topical pills for contraception, never condoms. I wasn't having an affair as my husband imagined, but hearing the words "condoms" still made my face flush red to the roots of my ears. My husband is often away from home for work, and we've always lived a life of separation since we got married. When my husband is away, it's at least ten days, sometimes several months. I'm busy with work during the day and don't feel too sad, but the nights are different. Especially when I'm lying in bed, not yet asleep, I often find myself involuntarily recalling the moments I shared with my husband during our sex life. That intense pleasure often makes me reach for my own body.

We've been married for over three years and I haven't had any gynecological problems. Seeing my girlfriends constantly running to the hospital with their illnesses, I'm afraid I'll end up like that someday. To better prevent infections from sexual activity, my husband and I always do a thorough "cleaning" before sex. Later, when I masturbate, I worry about harmful bacteria hiding under my fingernails, even though I wash my hands two or three times beforehand. So, I always use a condom when I masturbate. That's when I truly understood why people call condoms "safety condoms"—they're not just for contraception.

This is my secret; I believe masturbation is an absolute privacy, something I shouldn't let anyone know, including my sexual partner. Therefore, when my husband asked about "condoms," I was at a loss for words, yet I knew it was a question I had to answer. Otherwise, he would assume my suspicions were correct.

But how could I bring it up? After thinking for a while, I still didn't know how to start. I could only say, "I know what you want to say, and I understand how you feel, but it's definitely not what you think. As for what it is, I'll tell you tomorrow morning, okay?" My husband gently supported my shoulders and said, "It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that I love you too much. I can't imagine what life would be like without you." Faced with my husband's deep affection, I could only lean closer to him and say that I loved him just as much.

The next morning, when I went to work, my husband wasn't up yet. I put the breakfast I had made for him on the table, next to which was an open magazine. On the open page was an article about female masturbation. There was a small section about the benefits of using condoms during female masturbation. I marked those words with a pen, believing that my husband would understand my intention when he saw them.

Sure enough, when I returned home from work at noon, I was greeted by my husband's strong hug and a hot meal that he had prepared. My husband said somewhat embarrassedly, "I'm sorry, I almost misunderstood you." I said, "It's nothing to be ashamed of; at least it shows you still love me." "Of course," he said, "it's all my fault. If I weren't always busy outside, you wouldn't be so lonely. I'll definitely make it up to you these next few days." He finished speaking and gave me a mischievous smile.

A week later, my husband had to go back to the construction site. I was at work when he left and couldn't see him off. He called me and said there was a gift box on the bed for me, and he even gave me a kiss over the phone. I couldn't wait until I got off work, so I sneaked out of the office and went home. As soon as I entered the bedroom, I saw a beautifully wrapped gift box on the bed. I eagerly opened it and found two equally beautiful boxes of condoms inside. "Thank you, husband," I said, pressing the condoms tightly against my chest. (For


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