The Story of a Woman's Revenge

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

I'm 35 years old, a graduate of a foreign language department in university, and have been married for almost ten years. My husband is my first and only man, and our married life has been quite good. I've been pregnant twice, but unfortunately, I miscarried both times due to the stress of working hard to make a living. After that, I couldn't conceive, so we don't have children. Apart from our great sex life, everything else has been quite ordinary. What more could I ask for?

But in the past year, my husband has undergone a huge change! He ran for office and was elected as a member of parliament for the opposition party. Then his party became the ruling party, and he was appointed to a high-ranking government position as chairman of a public bank. He rose to the top in one fell swoop. In his spare time, a bunch of women fawn over him. He often uses business trips as an excuse to visit other places instead of staying at home. One day, he asked me to agree to let him bring a pregnant girlfriend home to live with him, spouting nonsense like "of the three unfilial acts, the greatest is to have no offspring." He's like a modern-day Chen Shimei (a notorious figure in Chinese folklore known for abandoning his wife), which has made me extremely sad and has completely disrupted my life!

We've been married for ten years, and we've stumbled through so much together: bank debts, my brother Ah Long's gambling debts, my ex-girlfriend from before we got married, the health and passing away of our family elders. To make ends meet, I even taught at a bilingual tutoring center for a while. Finally, things started to improve, but he's incredibly unfaithful, having affairs with multiple women. Our constant arguments have plunged me into despair. I'm terrified! I'm also incredibly angry, afraid that he'll ruin this hard-won life, destroy everything, and might even completely destroy the marriage I've worked so hard to build over the years! Thinking about this, I feel like I regret ever urging my husband to pursue fame and fortune; now he's in such a mess, and I truly don't know what to do.

This happened on my 32nd birthday this year. My husband said an old friend invited him out for drinks and that he'd be home around 10 pm. I thought we hadn't been intimate in a long time, so I took a shower and got ready to wait for him. I asked the cook to prepare some delicious dishes (we've hired a cook now that things are better at home). We planned to celebrate and cut the cake together when he got home. But I waited until after 1 am and he still hadn't returned. I called him, and the phone rang. He said he was singing karaoke and couldn't leave, but he'd be back soon. However, I could hear women laughing in the background, clearly from some kind of entertainment venue. By 3 am, he still hadn't come back. I called him again, but the phone kept ringing and the dial tone kept dropping. I got really angry and worried, so I called again and again…! Finally, the phone was answered. I asked him where he was. But he kept stammering and speaking unclearly… I called his driver, who told me that Director Dong hadn't used his car that day. My gut feeling told me he was lying! He must have been bewitched by some vixen again. It wasn't

until the next afternoon, after work, that the driver took him home. We had a huge argument, almost to the point of a physical fight.

After getting angry, he put on some simple clothes, wore sunglasses, hailed a taxi, and went out. I hailed a taxi and followed him to see where he went. I saw him talking on his cell phone in the car. After turning around a few times, he got out by the side of a road. I saw him get out of the car from a distance, so I got out too and hid there to see what he was going to do and where he was going. But then I saw him suddenly get into the front seat of a white sedan parked by the roadside. A long-haired woman was driving, and the car drove away. I thought about hailing a taxi and following him, but I couldn't find one nearby. I could only sigh in frustration and return empty-handed.

For many days afterward, he didn't go home. Every afternoon, I would lie in wait a distance from his company entrance and see that he wasn't taking the company's black sedan, but instead driving a new Toyota van home from work.

I, like the Foolish Old Man Who Moved Mountains, waited at the company gate every day after work, finally discovering his secret lover's hideout. But the building had tight security; without proper identification, I couldn't cross the line and get inside. Besides, I was afraid it would affect his career. If it made the news, it would be a lose-lose situation, and I wouldn't benefit either.

I spoke to him through the video doorbell while he spoke from upstairs:

"What are you doing? Don't cause trouble at the gate. It won't benefit anyone if you mess things up."

"Open the door, let me in. I want to see your mistress."

"Don't be so hurtful. What mistress? She's the chairman's daughter."

"What daughter? A mistress is a mistress."

"Have some manners, okay? Don't talk nonsense."

"Stealing someone's husband, what else should you call her but a mistress? A whore?" "You dare to eat but not

take responsibility, shameless!" "Don't just talk big. How can a highly educated intellectual act like a country bumpkin, spewing profanities? Go back! See you at my house tomorrow night, we can talk face-to-face."

"You're noble, but a coward! You shrinking turtle, come out here, let's talk now, hello! hello! hello!"

I frantically pressed the talk button on the walkie-talkie.

"Go back! See you tomorrow!" He actually turned off the walkie-talkie.

I was furious! I went home dejectedly.

Back home, I went to bed, all alone. No one was there to keep me company. I couldn't sleep all night, my mind racing. In the early hours of the morning, it started to rain outside, a light drizzle. I thought back to a year ago, before my husband became successful, when we often made love in this same bed. Sometimes, on the eve of the weekend, we would make love, sometimes watching porn together and then imitating each other. Although he wasn't very good at it, I still enjoyed it. Love between a man and a woman, how wonderful! Who knew that in just over ten months, he would fall in love with a vixen and abandon me? Now, I am alone in this cold bed, with no one to share my joy. Who will appreciate my blooming flowers? Who will love me?

Another week has passed, and my husband still hasn't returned. I call him every day, and at first he sounded impatient. Later, he changed his phone number, and then I couldn't get through at all. When I try to call him from the company phone, his secretary always answers, saying the chairman is busy, he's in a meeting, or he's away on business. Even when he does get through, he says he'll be home for dinner tonight. I wait all night, but he's nowhere to be seen. I've resigned myself to less. A man's heart is restless and can't be kept, but even if he's having an affair, shouldn't I, the 32-year-old wife, at least offer him my attentions occasionally? As time goes on, my vagina starts to rebel against me. Who can I confide in

? Another lonely evening has arrived. The cook and the housekeeper have gone home, leaving me alone in this large house. The lonely paulownia tree seems to lock in the autumn chill, a tangled mess of emotions weighing on my heart. Even the food on the table is hard to swallow. I'm restless and agitated, feeling my hormones churning wildly. I absolutely must go out for a walk.

I put on light makeup, but wore bright red lipstick and tied my hair in a ponytail like a young girl. I drove out, but I didn't know where to go. I drove aimlessly into the bustling area and eventually arrived at Sizhongxiao East Road. I saw a pub with flashing neon lights, parked the car, handed it to the valet, went inside, found a seat against the wall, ordered a Pink Lady, and slowly sipped it. Thinking about what had happened recently, I couldn't help but feel sad. I lowered my head and wept alone. The men and women sitting next to me were all laughing and joking, while I was all alone, which made me even sadder. When my glass was empty, I ordered a strong tequila, drank it down, and choked, tears streaming down my face.

The night was still young. As the night wore on, more and more customers filled the bar, and the noise from the DJ grew louder

and louder. I quietly drank, one glass after another… I have a pretty good alcohol tolerance; I can probably drink three or four bottles of beer… Perhaps because a girl was sitting there drinking, some flies naturally swarmed around, drawn by the smell, but I ignored them. Finally, a tall, middle-aged foreigner, over 180 centimeters tall, slowly walked over and stood before me like a tower. He asked me in heavily accented Chinese, “Miss! May I sit down?” I looked at him, wondering if it was the alcohol or… he really was tall and handsome! My heart suddenly raced. He noticed I was only looking at him but didn't react.

"Excuse me, miss, I see you're all alone. Would you mind having a drink and chatting, maybe we can become friends?"

My desire for revenge surged, my heart tightened, and my hormones spiked. I almost breathlessly agreed, "Sure, please sit down!" He sat down in the chair opposite me.

In the dim light, I sized him up. He had large, bright, light blue eyes that seemed to see right through my clothes. His thick, curly brown hair was slightly frizzy, and his slightly high nose was quite sexy. He had a bit of prickly mustache—a very handsome young man.

He introduced himself as someone who had lived in Taipei for almost ten years, a bilingual tutor working alone in Taiwan. He bought me another glass of tequila, and before we knew it, we had finished our third. I told him I had also been a bilingual tutor, which gave us plenty to talk about. Each glass of tequila, though small, was incredibly strong and potent. Although I had mentally given up on myself, living for the moment and knowing that getting drunk would lead to being interrogated, I still left. I told him I was a little drunk and wanted to go home.

He thoughtfully asked if I wanted to get some late-night snacks to fill my stomach. I suddenly remembered that the chef's dinner was still on the table at home, and I hadn't eaten dinner. Only after he mentioned it did I realize that I was indeed a little hungry! He introduced me to the pub, saying that the food was pretty good, and asked if I could treat him, since dinner was on him, so I ordered a T-bone surf and turf steak. After the meal, I also had a cup of coffee (I had a subconscious thought that I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight)... After a few drinks and a full meal, he didn't eat, but just stood by and looked at me. I didn't know if he wasn't hungry or if he had some ulterior motive, thinking it wasn't good to eat a big meal before getting intimate.

I said, "Thank you for the drinks and the meal, I want to go home now." He took my hand and asked, "Anyway, it's not midnight yet, night is still young, there's still plenty of time!" "Would you like to come to my place for a bit, listen to some music quietly, and clear your head?" (I had told him that her husband was cheating on her, and they had argued, so she came here to sulk.) Although I'm not a woman who's seen much of the world, I knew what would happen if I went with him. But the alcohol was getting to me, and seeing his muscular physique, I was somewhat tempted. However, I really didn't know how to say "yes" or "no," and just hesitated, unable to speak.

I just stared at him blankly... I knew my face and body were completely red (but under the pub lights, it probably wasn't noticeable). The experienced man noticed my hesitation and smiled, saying, "Darling! Take it easy, it's just a casual date, nothing..." "Serious." I gently bit my lower lip and nodded.

He lowered his head and gently kissed my cheek. The alcohol suddenly surged through me, rushing to my head, my heart pounding wildly.

His house was nearby, about a three-minute drive. On the way, he kept talking about his things, but I didn't hear a word… The alcohol was taking its toll; all I could hear was the hum of the car engine, my heart was still pounding, my palms were sweating, and my mind was completely blank! When we got to his house, I sat down on his sofa. He turned on the stereo and played some love songs by the popular female singer Beyoncé, then poured me a glass of red wine. Then he sat down next to me on my right, gently putting his arm around me. I felt truly… I was drunk and nervous, following in my husband's footsteps, ha! I really was going to cheat on him!

He suddenly hugged me and kissed me on the lips! His mouth smelled of chewing gum, which smelled nice. I don't know if it was the alcohol or my desire for revenge, but I didn't know how to react at all. My heart was pounding, my face was flushed, my head was ringing, and I was breathing rapidly! I don't know how long we kissed. I had been sitting on the sofa when we arrived, but now I was lying on the bed. It felt so natural that I pulled off the only thing I was wearing left: my underwear.

He said, "Sit up and let's take a shower first!"

I really wanted to say, "No! Stop! Let's..." "Stop right here, I don't want to continue!"

But all I heard myself say was, "I'll do it myself, I'll wash myself, don't come with me!"

Then he led me into the bathroom and went back to the bedroom. I finished washing! I wrapped myself in a large bath towel and came out! I sat back on the bed after leaving the bathroom, but saw him checking my bag.

I was startled and hurriedly asked him, "What are you doing?"

He said sheepishly, "I'm looking for condoms."

"Did you find any?" I said angrily.

"No!" he said with a grin.

He added, "You rest here for a bit! I'll go wash up, I'll be done soon!"

After he went in, I quickly opened my bag and saw that my wallet, cash, and unlimited credit card were all safe and sound, so I was relieved.

I poured myself a glass of red wine, thinking, whatever, it's already come to this... Let it be, don't think about anything. Actually, I'm really drunk, and I can't think about anything anymore. I just close my eyes, relax, take a deep breath, and relax completely. Is this a dream? My husband can cheat, so why can't I?

A short while later, he came out of the bathroom naked, holding a large bath towel, with a half-erect penis hanging between his legs. He sat back down next to me, and seeing me checking my bag, he said awkwardly,

"Don't be nervous, I was just confirming if you're a 'ladies' who comes out to pick up rich guys."

"Am I?" I lowered my guard a bit, looking at him seductively.

"No! No! Because I saw you're a married woman, but you don't look thirty-two, you have a very baby face and a petite figure, you look like you're only twenty." Hearing him say I looked young made me a little smug.

"You peeked at my ID!"

"Seeing everyone is reassured, isn't that good?"

He pulled me into his arms and started kissing me, beginning with my mouth, then my neck, my chest... He kissed my entire body; his tongue was truly amazing. I exposed my smooth, white thighs, my legs slightly parted, revealing a dark patch at the top. Beneath the dark pubic hair, a pinkish slit appeared. When he leaned down to kiss my genitals, his hard, prickly stubble prickled my clitoris and labia minora, making me tremble all over as if I'd been electrocuted. I cried out loudly, almost unconsciously. Before he even penetrated me, he gave me a real taste of what an orgasm was like. I felt like I'd lost control of my bladder! I was constantly leaking fluid. Was this what they call squirting in Japanese porn? If so, it couldn't have been too fast, could it? But could it be what they call "premature ejaculation" on medical programs? Huh? I felt like I couldn't breathe and was about to suffocate. I was delirious, and my whole body felt out of control! I was experiencing what the ancients meant by "dying and coming back to life"!

My private parts exuded a fresh and mature beauty, attracting the interest of this foreign man. Because I had never given birth, my belly was snow-white and flat, without a single stretch mark. On my bulging mons pubis, there was a small, dark, triangular patch of pubic hair, about the size of a silver coin, seemingly just an embellishment. Underneath the pubic hair, my vulva was full like a small hill, like a mysterious valley, with a pink slit in the center and two slightly raised mounds on either side! My two labia minora shyly peeked out from the slit, and the vaginal opening was already glistening. Bright and glistening with moisture.

He carefully parted the pink petals and slowly inserted his right index finger. I was nervous; my vagina was tight, but because of the lubrication, it went in smoothly.

Apart from my husband and gynecologist, no man had ever seen or touched me here, let alone allowed a man other than my husband to insert his finger into my vagina. But in front of this foreigner, his rough finger inserted into my vagina suddenly aroused a strange, obscene desire I had never felt before.

He sat up and hugged me, pressing my buttocks against his large penis, kissing me gently. But I could only breathe rapidly, my mind blank… only thinking… “Ah! I’m going to lose my virginity, I’m really going to lose my virginity.” He continued to kiss my face gently… his penis was already erect, rubbing against my vaginal opening. Ah! I had no way out.

He pointed to his huge penis and asked me, "Can you give 'him' a blowjob?"

I looked at his penis, smiled, and gestured with my hands to indicate how long it was, as an answer.

He pulled my hands to his penis, and I saw that his erection was pressing against me. It was so big and long! I'd never tried it before and I was terrified... How could it possibly fit into my vagina? I was really scared!

I said, "Yours is too big. I don't think I can handle it." I looked at his penis; it was much bigger than my husband's, at least three times longer and one and a half times thicker! I'd only ever seen something like that when watching porn with my husband. I was so scared I wanted to put my clothes back on and leave immediately... Could such a thick, large penis really fit inside? It was terrifying!

He hugged me and said, "Honey, don't worry!" "I will be very gentle with you," he began his kissing assault again... My mind and body trembled, softened, and I felt a surge of adventurous excitement.

He was the second man in my life, and I didn't know much about his preferences, so I could only be completely passive, letting him do his foreplay. He, however, was a seasoned lover, playing with me until I was in ecstasy. My lust surged to my head, my juices soaked the sheets, and my nipples swelled and throbbed. When he saw that I was already disheveled and unrecognizable, repeatedly lifting my hips for his penis, he finally laid me down on the bed. When it was time for him to penetrate me, I was truly conflicted, both afraid and eager! I wanted to witness, to look down and see him penetrate me, that crucial moment when I was dripping wet.

I couldn't believe it. I looked down and saw him slowly inserting himself into me. A wonderful pain shot through me, a fullness I'd never felt before. He had barely reached my cervix when he started thrusting rapidly. Each thrust reached the very bottom of my vagina. All I could do was twist and scream. I clung tightly to his back, my legs sometimes squeezing my hips together, sometimes opening wide, making loud, incoherent moans. Unconsciously, I secretly compared him to my husband. We've been married for almost ten years, and every time I make love with him, even under the best conditions, it's never lasted more than five minutes. He, on the other hand, has to keep pulling out and changing positions, preventing me from experiencing continuous pleasure. Today, I learned that it's true a woman can have multiple orgasms in one session. He thrust for over half an hour, and I had one orgasm followed by another. After a two-minute break, he entered me again, and I had two more orgasms. I kept moaning. When he finished, I tried to sit up to catch my breath, but I felt weak all over, my legs were trembling, and the floor was slippery, as if several glasses of water had been spilled. The floor and sheets were covered in my cum…

Afterwards, I drank two glasses of sweet wine to calm my racing heart. We chatted for a bit, and he gave me his phone number and a business card, saying I could contact him anytime. He then took me to a taxi home. It

was almost two o'clock when I got home. I was worried about being caught, but my husband still hadn't returned.

After a quick and simple wash, I went to bed. Because so much had happened that day, I was excited and couldn't fall asleep for a long time. But I kept feeling like his penis was still thrusting into me… I kept reliving the perfect sex we'd just had. I warned myself, "One wrong step can lead to eternal regret," and that cheating was something I could never do again… I had to forget about him! At noon, I went to the pub to pick up my car.

The next evening, my husband came home again to negotiate. We argued again, and he demanded ten million for a divorce settlement. I disagreed, and he left angrily. As he walked out the door, I noticed he was wearing what looked like a nice green sports cap, made in America, and I felt a little smug, secretly smiling to myself.

Later, my husband came home several more times, each time bringing up the divorce settlement again, raising the price to twelve million. I refused each time; surely the chairman of a public bank wouldn't ask for such a low price for a divorce?

He told me he was just the legal representative and chairman of the bank, and didn't own a single stock. Compared to before, his salary was only slightly higher. He said he had to finance the 12 million he requested from his own bank; he couldn't squeeze out more.

After that, I was unhappy every day. The scene of my husband's betrayal kept replaying in my mind: how he kissed that vixen I'd never seen, caressed her, and rubbed her, the way she climaxed—everything in bed seemed so vivid, I couldn't let it go.

But I also kept thinking about my own affair with the American. I told myself, "It's all my husband's fault. If he hadn't stopped me from going to that building that day, I wouldn't have gone to the party the next day, I wouldn't have met that American, and of course, none of those things would have happened. It's all his fault!"

Thinking of that American made my lower abdomen ache, I frequently urinated, and after enduring it for a week, one day I finally couldn't take it anymore and called the foreigner. I made an excuse: I just wanted to say hello and apologize for making such a mess of his house the other day. When he answered the phone, he wasn't stupid; he immediately knew it was just an excuse. He countered with, "Missing me? If you're free tonight, how about we have dinner and have some fun?" I'd only given him a hint, and he was already making lewd jokes.

But, bingo! He really knew what I was thinking.

I immediately agreed and drove to his house (I didn't dare drive my own car, afraid my husband would hire a private investigator to follow me). I deliberately took the bus around, met him at the Sogo department store, and then we went to the Lianyi Restaurant for dinner. It wasn't even 9 pm when we finished.

In the car after dinner, he said, "Want to come to my place again?"

I pretended to say, "I'm so sorry… I made your house filthy last time!"

He laughed and said, "The maid cleaned it a long time ago, why leave it until now?" "

Actually, going to his place was the original purpose of my call. Of course I agreed, but being a girl, I had to maintain some composure. Hesitating, I finally said,

'That wouldn't be good, making your place so dirty, your maid must be cursing me to death.'

'Fine, then I'll take you home first, I'll go to a pub for a drink and see what girls I can pick up today.'

My pretentious ladylike act was immediately shattered by him. I reached into his crotch and gave him a hard squeeze, saying, 'You dare!' He laughed heartily.

We took a car to his place. On the way, I told him it was my safe period and I didn't need a condom. He stared at me for a long time, then grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly for a long time. I didn't quite understand what he meant."

After our previous ordeal at his home, he had ignited a fierce, almost predatory, desire within me. Coupled with days of suppressed lust at home, today in bed, I wasn't as shy as last time; I was much more relaxed, even somewhat insatiable. He seemed surprised by my progress, but he was also more passionate than before. I could feel the hot, forceful thrust against my cervix when he ejaculated… it felt like each thrust was penetrating my entire uterus! We made love for almost an hour, and he brought me to the brink of ecstasy multiple times. Now I truly understand the power of this man's sexual prowess; he can truly give me that feeling of being in heaven! Afterwards, when I was more sober, I repeatedly warned myself that I couldn't afford to make the same mistake again. I had to break free of my infatuation with him, and I was determined to end this relationship! But less than three days later, I couldn't resist and habitually picked up my phone to call him again.

I wondered, was this revenge on my husband, or was I simply shameless now? But… I've become averse to intimacy with my husband! He simply can't give me what I want! I used to be easily satisfied, but now… I've experienced what truly intense, sweaty sex is, something my husband can never satisfy! I don't know what to do. I'm so lost.

I'm already trapped in this, unable to let go. We met secretly several more times afterward—once, twice, many times. To ensure we were both safe and comfortable having sex, he even went with me to get tested for HIV and STDs. He showed me both our test results; both were negative. He carefully folded and put the reports away.

As time went on, Jack gradually brought out some sex toys and DVDs, and we would occasionally join in, but I wasn't really enthusiastic about them. I only cooperated when Jack was interested. But that retractable vibrator was really amazing; once used, it could be used for as long as you wanted.

I also knew that Jack was a real sex machine; he not only knew how to play, but he could also play. He had some gadgets at home, including some SM tools and equipment. He would play some bondage and handcuff games with me. I found it somewhat fun the first couple of times and cooperated, but the third time I got bored and didn't want to do it anymore, so he gave up reluctantly.

Once, he even suggested that he invite a couple to his house so the four of us could swap sex. I scolded him, saying that sex between men and women is such a private matter, how could there be other people present? I couldn't even imagine four people swapping and taking turns having sex. I was very angry, and I rejected the idea outright, so he had to give up.

Another time, while we were making love in his bed, completely lost in the moment, I suddenly saw a couple making love on the 60-inch TV on the wall. They were so engrossed in their lovemaking that I realized it was Jack and me! I was horrified and immediately asked him what was going on. He chuckled and said it was one of his hobbies—keeping images of women he had loved. "You're the woman I love most," he said, "of course I have to keep them. Since things have come to this, I'm helpless too." I asked him to keep it a secret and not let anyone else see it.

That foreigner (I'll call him Jack now) then gave me a cell phone with his own name on it. He called me and said,

"Honey! I've got a cell phone for you. Use this one to call me from now on, so your husband won't find Xi Qiao on your phone and delete all the records on your current phone."

My husband has been coming home more often lately because his mistress is pregnant. She's pressuring him to divorce me so the child can have a legitimate status. She's raised her alimony demand to 15 million, but I haven't agreed. I won't agree to anything less than 50 million. "Dragging it out" isn't a time-pressured issue for me.

While having sex with Jack, I subtly probed him about marriage. He thought for a moment and said,

"Consider it after your marriage is resolved. I also have a marriage to overcome."

A rebuff, no answer whatsoever!

One day, Jack called me and said,

"Honey! Tonight, our International Business Club is having a monthly party. It requires couples to attend. My wife isn't here, so I'd like to bring you along, okay?"

I was overjoyed. This was a chance to further infiltrate his social circle and learn about some of his friends. How could I let it slip away?

To appear more Westernized, I took a shower, carefully applied what I thought was a beautiful makeup look, sprayed on Chanel No. 5, changed into a more revealing and avant-garde dress, took a taxi, and went to his apartment building to pick him up so we could go to the party together.

The party was held in a luxurious mansion on a hillside in the Western residential area of Tianmu. The mansion occupied a considerable area, with many large trees, a yard, and a 25-meter swimming pool. The hosts, a strikingly pale British couple, very politely came out to greet us. They led us to an outdoor tea table by the pool, served us tea, and soon all the guests arrived.

There were eight couples in total today, making nine couples including the hosts (not necessarily married couples, like us, we were just a couple). Apart from myself, another Chinese woman, and his Japanese partner, everyone else was Western. One of the men was a tall, strapping Black man who spoke French; he was several inches taller than Jack, almost 2 meters tall, and his physique was quite astonishing. I'm 162 cm tall, and when I shook hands with him, he was at least 40 cm taller than me, a full head taller.

The host rang a bell, and everyone gathered together. The hostess took out paper and pen, collected drinks and membership fees from the guests, and also collected health test reports. Then she announced the start of the party, opening John Walker whiskey and tequila for everyone to drink. The ladies also had Spanish liqueur. On another small table were various aphrodisiacs, divided into "hes," "hers," and "uni-sex" (male, female, and unisex) drinks, and a small wooden box for collecting coins.

Jack also bought me a bottle of the women's drink; it was tasteless and bland, like water, leaving no sensation.

I understand the shared costs of private parties, but the small cans of drinks are a bit expensive, and the requirement for a health check report is a bit confusing.

Dance music started playing in the living room, and everyone drank and danced. Jack and I hugged and kissed, drank and danced. I hadn't danced in a long time, and it swept away the gloom of being at home all day. I was incredibly happy and in a great mood. After a few dances, we changed partners, and I danced wildly with everyone.

I also drank several glasses of sweet wine with John, and even had two glasses of tequila. I was incredibly excited, but during the dance, the male partners weren't very well-behaved; one of them touched my genitals with a hard object.

The music in the living room stopped, and the 100-inch TV started playing an American porn film—a white woman and a black man with a huge penis having sex. Everyone gathered in the living room to watch TV.

I've seen Japanese porn, but I've never seen such a explicit American black porn film. After drinking, I got a little carried away and suddenly felt an urgent, strange need in my lower abdomen, desperately needing Jack's comfort. Seeing the sex scenes on the screen, my need grew stronger. I knew my face was flushed and my breathing was heavy. Oh no, that can of drink was acting up. My ears were ringing, and I desperately needed a man's company. Sitting among the crowd, I suddenly felt someone reach under my skirt and into my thong. I thought it was Jack teasing me, so I helped him pull his panties aside to make it easier for him. When he touched my clitoris, my mind went blank, and my vagina secreted a lot of lubricant. My mind was in chaos.

Suddenly, in a daze, I saw Jack on the other side of the living room sofa, having sex with a Scandinavian woman. When he saw me looking at him, he turned and winked at me. Startled, I realized someone else was touching my clitoris. Turning around, I saw it was the French man. Alcohol made me impulsive, and I suddenly understood Jack's real purpose in bringing me here today, but I was already hooked.

I realized I had entered a veritable international wife-swapping club. To Jack, he wasn't losing out at all; after all, it was all someone else's wife anyway. Under the influence of drugs, I couldn't think straight anymore, only mechanically driven by lust, taking turns having sex. Under someone else's roof, I couldn't stop. My head was already shaved; how could I turn back? I could only keep going. I discovered that all the men and women in the house had taken off their fancy clothes, returning to their natural state, their buttocks exposed, naked. I didn't even know when or where I had taken off my already thin clothes. That night, everyone in the room was affected by the lewd atmosphere and the drugs. I gave up on myself and shook my long hair, completely opening up. I don't know if it was the effect of that drink or the influence of Jack's love over the past two months, but I, who was originally extremely conservative and chaste, became a shameless slut, accepting one person after another for sex.

I didn't know the French black man's name or what he did for a living. I only knew that his penis was as big as Jack's, but his pubic hair was much thicker, and his glans was sharp and good at drilling holes. I lay on the pool lounge chair, spread my legs, and he suddenly thrust in all the way. I was caught off guard, and it hurt so much! He pushed me, and my legs instinctively clamped together. With a forceful push, his thick mons pubis and the shaving, newly grown, dense pubic hair all pricked my clitoris and labia. I believe he deliberately let it grow to this length to stimulate a woman's sensitive areas. I felt like I was being electrocuted and couldn't help but cry out, "Ah!" But immediately afterward, I felt a subtle, unbearable acupuncture sensation in my lower abdomen, a strange stimulation. My vagina felt like ants were crawling on it, itchy, and I couldn't tell if it was comfortable or uncomfortable.

My clitoris, stimulated by this, involuntarily and slowly became erect like a small fleshy ball, arousing a burning desire below. My vagina began to leak fluid again; this was already the nth time I had been intensely aroused today.

Seeing myself so wanton today, I couldn't believe I'd become like this. But those feelings of shame were quickly washed away by another, irresistible desire that seemed to come from nowhere. In his arms, our figures were disproportionate; he was so tall, and I was so petite. It was like a giant making love to a little girl. I tried my best to please him, my face burning with excitement and lust. When the desire surged, my whole body felt hot. Helplessly, I spread my legs and said to him,

"Fuck me hard, you sonthe of bitch, faster! Faster!"

We sat on the deck chairs for a long, long, long time… He still hadn’t ejaculated, just mechanically mashing garlic. I felt pain and bored, so I pushed the black man away and went to find someone else. The black man was probably a bit dazed from taking the drugs and went off to hunt for other women. I went up to the second floor and met the blond Costa Rican man. I greeted him in Spanish: “Buenas Noches (Good night!)” He glanced out the window and then at the clock on the wall, and replied in Chinese: “It’s already one o’clock, good morning!” He then pulled me into the guest room. He said his wife had been called away by the German man with the mustache.

He saw my coquettish, alluring demeanor (acted out), my petite figure with full, white thighs, straight calves, and ten beautiful, clean, white toes painted with bright red nail polish. My thighs were slightly parted, revealing a small patch of dark, curly pubic hair at the base, alluringly curled. My slightly raised, pinkish vulva was slightly open, glistening with drops of honey-like, lustful fluid—a gift I hadn't wiped away during my earlier lovemaking with the black man. This tempted my South American friend, his heart racing. He reached out his large, hairy hand and couldn't resist gently caressing my labia minora and clitoris, adding pressure, rubbing, turning, grinding, pinching, and pulling—it was practically a form of sadistic torture! Oh my god, you know how pleasurable it felt!

My little hole was dripping wet, so wet I couldn't find a towel or tissue to wipe it. My clitoris was itchy, a little strange, and I desperately wanted a warm, soft mouth with a prickly mustache to suckle it.

On the bed, he knelt between my wide-open legs, holding his swollen, hot, and hard penis in front of me, waving it around, arousing my unbearable lust. My face flushed red, my breathing quickened, and he casually played with my clitoris with his fingers, while his other hand intentionally or unintentionally caressed the sides, front, back, and inner thighs of my vagina. Oh my god, I was in ecstasy.

I almost begged him, "Suck me, suck me hard! Suck me, please suck me hard!" He ignored me and forcefully thrust into me...

His thrusting skills were really good, but he was too focused on his own pleasure and didn't think much of his partner. Even after he ejaculated, I still felt he owed me a suck.

The short Japanese guy had a camera and was filming everywhere, strangely enough, he didn't think about the consequences of the footage being leaked.

The guys had probably all ejaculated many times tonight, each time with very small amounts, but I was still very excited, somewhat unsatisfied.

What's wrong with me? So many male animals, all with big dicks, and I still wasn't satisfied. Suddenly, it dawned on me—it must be that bottle of food I drank earlier that caused it. But I was in a bind; I couldn't even think about my reputation or tomorrow.

I remember having sex with an Israeli Jew on the living room sofa, in the bedroom, with a fat Chicago guy by the pool, and with a German gentleman on a private bar table, legs spread wide. A black man bought me a second drink, and I had sex with a big black guy in front of the TV. I also had sex with Jack, only to find out how potent the drink was; my lower abdomen felt like it was on fire, and all I could think about was being penetrated. I went crazy into the master bedroom and had a threesome with a British couple. I became the party star, the object of everyone's attention, having sex with everyone wildly. I also had sex with a Brazilian girl named Victoria, and we went crazy until dawn. I can't remember how many rounds we did; I only know that my vaginal opening was red, swollen, and painful, but I was still excited. And I was elected the party queen. That little Japanese guy chased after me, taking all sorts of pictures. Before dawn, everyone was exhausted and went their separate ways. I was also physically exhausted, but my mind was still full of excitement and I couldn't fall asleep. The party ended, and everyone agreed to meet again next time to learn more from like-minded people.

I don't know how Jack got me home. I woke up the next afternoon to find myself alone in my bed, which startled me. Thankfully, my husband wasn't home yet. I had a terrible headache, whether from the hangover or the aftereffects of the aphrodisiac from last night, I did

n't know. Thinking about the absurd things I did last night, I felt incredibly regretful. There were other people at home, but the cook and his wife had already arrived. I had completely betrayed my husband, falling into an abyss from which I couldn't escape.

Tonight, it's another Saturday. Since my crazy wife-swapping party with Jack's friends, I've probably been exhausted. For several days, I've felt weak and listless. My vagina is a little swollen, but inside, I'm still craving more, still thinking about the Frenchman Louis. Unfortunately, I didn't get his phone number that day, so I can't contact him again.

Jack hasn't contacted me lately, so I called him. He's probably been busy lately; we haven't talked for three or four days. The voice on the other end said:

"The number you dialed is not in service. Please check and dial again..." Huh, how could it be wrong?

I continued applying makeup while dialing the number again…

Suddenly, my husband returned home with a livid face. He sat silently beside the dressing table, placing a stack of photos on it. I picked one up casually and saw a series of erotic photos of a middle-aged woman with disheveled hair and several different men. The woman was always shown from the front, her expression lewd and enjoying herself. The men were all shown from behind, their identities unclear, but judging from their figures, they were all foreigners. Who else could the woman in those photos be but me?

I urgently and sharply demanded, “Where did these photos come from?”

“What do you think? Your American mistress sold them to me for five million. You can’t exactly deny it, can you?”

Caught red-handed, with irrefutable evidence, I didn’t bother denying it anymore. The relationship was already ruined; there was no point in saving the marriage. I’d just get a divorce, take the money, and leave:

“Fine, you win. Now what do you want?”

"I'll save you some face by not publishing it publicly. Tomorrow, we'll go to the household registration office together to formally register our amicable divorce. We'll be even, part ways amicably, and go our separate ways."

"I don't care. You can publish these photos in the newspapers and post them online. If you want reporters swarming around you, if you want everyone to see the chairman of XX Bank as a big turtle, if you don't have enough photos, or enough good ones, I have plenty more. I'm willing to go to court with you."

This hit him where it hurt. He was silent for a long time, then said,

"Then what do you want me to do? What's the point of clinging to a broken marriage? Let's break up amicably, give each other space. You're still young, happiness is just around the corner."

Finally, my ex-husband and I divorced by mutual agreement for five million yuan. We each went our separate ways and married other people.

Going back to find that bastard Jack, he'd long since left and gone back to America, his whereabouts unknown. You might wonder how my ex-husband knew Jack; he was the cook my ex-husband planted in our home. From the first date I went with Jack, he recorded our phone conversations.

[The End]

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The Story of a Woman's Revenge

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