An unsuccessful experience 6

In the month or so I've been dating B, I've suddenly realized that my wife is no longer the haggard housewife I used to know (of course, she never really was; her fair skin makes her look much younger than her peers). Her slightly fuller figure has a unique charm. In bed, I often tease her, saying, "Don't lose weight on your upper body; go to a slimming salon and lose some belly fat, it'll be even more enjoyable to have sex with you." And let me tell you, she's always going to beauty salons, constantly restricting her diet, which sometimes makes me feel a little sorry for her. What woman doesn't love beauty? But those voluptuous women on the street, baring their breasts, only offer fleeting visual pleasure. One more glance and they'll call you shameless, a pervert. Such an age-old accusation, yet they don't want anyone to see. I don't know what these women are thinking; isn't this a contradiction? If you think you're beautiful, then let others look and admire you; if you don't want strange looks, then be dignified and elegant. However, I've lost interest in women like that now; they can't bring me real happiness. So why not treat the woman beside me better? One Sunday, my wife went to the provincial capital on business, and I drove her there. Things went smoothly, and we finished by 11 am. We had a simple lunch at a restaurant, and I suggested we go shopping in the afternoon! My wife was overjoyed because I hadn't taken her shopping in years. We drove to ** Plaza, the largest clothing wholesale and retail market in our province. Although online stores have a significant impact on brick-and-mortar stores, it was still bustling with people—after all, it's the provincial capital, and it was Sunday. My wife casually strolled around, and I said, "Buy a few things if you see anything you like; the prices aren't high, and we don't usually have time to come here." The shop owners here like to hire young, well-built girls as sales assistants to showcase their latest clothing. These girls were either leaning, standing, or sitting on the floor with their legs spread, bending over to arrange piles of clothes. Some even took off their coats, leaving only their underwear, to try on the new arrivals, completely unconcerned about being seen. This must be their job: replacing different styles and patterns of textiles with standardized printed materials. Their open and uninhibited attitude has become their daily routine, making me, a middle-aged man from a small, third-tier city, feel like an outsider.
I took a long, refreshing shower when I got home. Although I was a little tired, I wasn't sleepy. Sitting on the sofa, watching my wife come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, I felt the urge to have sex again. As an old married couple, we didn't need much foreplay. After she dried her hair, I turned up the TV volume, took her hand, and stroked my already erect penis. My arm naturally went around her shoulders, and I said, "My wife has great taste; these outfits she picked are perfect for our trip this month." Then I gently pressed her head down. She understood what I meant and deliberately shook her head a few times, saying, "Let someone else lick you!" "No way! I want you to lick me!" I said, pressing her head down with my hand, and her lips landed on my penis. She stuck out her tongue and lightly licked my glans, her delicate tongue circling around it. Unable to bear the teasing any longer, I thrust my penis into her mouth. She sucked vigorously for quite a while, and I was almost about to ejaculate. Then I pushed her away, untied her bathrobe, and pressed her down onto the soft leather sofa. Her snow-white body against the beige leather was quite beautiful. I leaned down and kissed her earlobe (she had told me that kissing her there was the most ticklish), then slowly moved down, kissing her neck. I opened my mouth wide and took one of her breasts, which I could hold in one hand, into my mouth. The areola was small, and the nipple became firm under the teasing of my tongue, much like a young girl's breast. Looking at her slightly closed eyes, a blissful expression radiating from her slightly turned face, I grabbed an opened bag of yogurt from the coffee table and dripped it onto her breasts. The cool yogurt stimulated her, and with a slight tremor in her breasts, I leaned down and began to suckle with abandon. After licking both breasts clean, I moved my burning lips to her lower body. My pubic hair, trimmed into a V-shape with a razor, looked much cleaner. Her slightly damp vulva resembled a peach blossom wet with dew. Her vagina was butterfly-shaped, a slightly darker shade than her skin tone but not black. A light kiss revealed a faint scent of shower gel. With a vigorous kiss, her lower body began to writhe, her hips rising and falling. I sensed she wanted me to fuck her, but I wasn't in a hurry. I licked her slightly parted vulva with my tongue, and with a rapid "ah," I knew I had aroused her to orgasm. Then I stopped teasing her. I loved seeing her expression of utter despair from the stimulation. I asked her, "Do you want me to fuck you? Where do you want me to fuck you?" She said yes. I said, "Quickly tell me where you want me to fuck you?" She just hugged me and said, "Fuck my genitals" (actually, I wanted to hear her say "Fuck my vagina," something she had only said once). Guided by her hand, my penis entered her body. I could feel the heat of her vagina. After a while, her wet vagina was fully open. I squeezed the rest of the yogurt into her vagina. The moment the straw was pulled out, thick white yogurt flowed out, looking just like someone who had been penetrated. I stroked my slightly tired penis, pushed the flowing yogurt in, and thrust it in again. With vigorous thrusting, it was completely covered by a mixture of her fluids and yogurt. She stroked the penis inside her with her fingers, feeling that she had been conquered and would do anything for me. After a while, I put the wet penis, covered in her fluids and yogurt, to her lips. She didn't shy away and knowingly sucked on it, her lips getting the same liquid. Looking at her lewd appearance, I knew she wouldn't refuse if another penis were inserted at that moment. This wicked thought made me lose control, and a stream of hot liquid shot onto her face.

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An unsuccessful experience 6

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