The Green Tales

"I'm leaving."

"Wait, you forgot your umbrella."

At the entrance, I was about to open the door with my suitcase when a clear female voice stopped me.

I turned around and saw my childhood sweetheart, now my wife, slowly
walking towards me with a folding umbrella.

She handed me the umbrella with her left hand, her right hand caressing my cheek, slowly closing
the distance between us.

She then wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her weight against me.
After feeling the warmth of her youthful beauty and allure, she kissed me briefly.

"After this business trip, we'll continue to make babies together, okay?"

Hearing this, I suddenly broke out in a cold sweat. Who would have thought that the girl who used to bully me like a tomboy would now have such a hot body, attracting attention from talent scouts on the street, and being so passionate
in bed ? 　　I've been married to my childhood sweetheart, my college girlfriend, for three years now. My career is stable, and with family urging me, it's time to start thinking about the next generation. 　　Unfortunately, my wife and I have been trying to conceive for a month, every other day, but haven't succeeded. Instead, my body is giving out , so 　　I'm taking a business trip to escape this horny feeling. After saying goodbye to my wife, I embarked on my long journey . The journey was long, and I 　　couldn't help but reminisce about how we went from being friends to becoming a couple. From childhood innocence to blossoming love, our relationship was so close we were practically inseparable, yet we never quite crossed that line . It 　　wasn't until we entered the same university that we finally confirmed our feelings for each other. 　　Waking up in our double bed every day and seeing my wife sleeping soundly beside me felt a little unreal. Could childhood sweethearts really become a couple so easily, even exploring the mysteries of sex at the same time and place? Then, my wife's morning kiss pulled me back to reality. 　　Before puberty, my wife's figure wasn't particularly striking, but her full, prominent lips attracted the attention of all the men in her class. Many of them fantasized about using her lips to stimulate their genitals, wishing they could shove their testicles inside. 　　Actually, I have a little secret. I installed a hidden recording camera at home to spy on my wife's daily life while she lives alone—a small consolation during my business trips. 　　After a busy day, I returned to my hotel. At this moment, I figured my wife was probably preparing dinner for herself in the open kitchen . So I opened the app on my phone and started my usual spying. 　　First, there was darkness, then the familiar scene of the house came into view. My wife wasn't in the kitchen, but there was takeout on the kitchen island? I never expected my wife, who always complained about takeout being dirty and messy , to relax like this while I was away. Next time I go back, I'll definitely cook her a good meal; she must be working so hard. 　　I started checking the other cameras. Perhaps she was washing away her fatigue in the shower, applying shower gel from her ample bosom to her alluring, life-giving pubic area? Then, lying in the bathtub of the perfectly separated wet and dry bathroom, I scattered flower petals onto my naked body, then raised my shapely legs , firm from yoga practice, and massaged my soft feet with my long, slender hands. 　　I slowly switched the camera from the kitchen to the living room. I vaguely saw what looked like an extra pair of shoes in the entryway? Or maybe I was just imagining things. 　　But when I switched to the camera outside the bathroom, I felt like I'd fallen into an abyss. 　　There were several pieces of men's clothing in the laundry basket outside the bathroom! 　　I took a deep breath and glanced at the frosted glass door, newly installed for erotic purposes but never used. 　　Through the swirling mist, I couldn't see clearly, but a pair of white, full breasts pressed against the glass door, and behind them , a figure was vaguely moving back and forth. The size of the nipples imprinted on the glass changed, and a touch of rosy red remained pressed against the door, teasing my eyes. 　　The hazy, alluring moans and the dull thuds of flesh colliding reached my ears through the glass, filling me with resentment. A wave of bitterness washed over me, but my lower body betrayed me, becoming erect and harder than ever before! With trembling hands, I shifted my gaze to the bathroom. Even if she really was cheating on me, I had to see. "Let me see which idiot is seducing her, I'll ruin his reputation!" 　　I declared confidently, but my eyes betrayed me, unable to bear witnessing my wife having sex with another man. 　　Gradually, the first sound was heavy breathing, followed by a loud slap of flesh hitting flesh. 　　Damn it, a scene automatically flashed through my mind: a strong man with six-pack abs grabbing my wife's buttocks from behind, forcefully thrusting his enormous, longer and thicker penis—far exceeding mine—through her full, tightly closed labia, penetrating deep inside, taking over a place I'd never been before. Then he pulled the egg-sized glans out, leaving it at the vaginal opening, pulling out tender flesh slick with her juices. 　　He then slapped my wife's full, round buttocks hard, before plunging in again, making her tremble and utter foul breath. 　　Finally, he blasted his violent semen into her womb, completely possessing her. 　　"Did I fuck you good, baby?" 　　A familiar voice came from the scene. 　　I turned around in surprise, and there were two women I knew entangled together! What was going on?! The woman leaning against the door wasn't my wife, but our mutual friend from university, a year ahead of us, a busty, long-legged campus beauty. 　　Behind her, the one doing the exercise was her wife. She had tied her long hair into a single ponytail, and wore a 15cm long, three-finger-thick black dildo. One hand slapped her senior's buttocks with each thrust, while the other caressed every inch of the beautiful body before her. 　　Her wife's fingers traced down her senior's groin, gently rubbing her slightly erect clitoris. A tingling sensation spread throughout her body, and the senior's arms, unable to support her weight, gradually gave up resistance and slid down the door. 　　At that moment, her wife's other hand withdrew from her buttocks, cupping her soft, white breasts, outlining their erotic folds. 　　Simultaneously, her hand squeezed the clitoris hard, and the dildo was withdrawn to the very edge of the vagina, moving back and forth between the labia.

Friction. "Want more? Call me Master if you do."

The beauty's face flushed a seductive blush, and the pink nipples at the very top of her high breasts were erect, showing that
her master was extremely aroused, almost unable to suppress his strong sexual desire. His wife rubbed back and forth a few more times, and the senior student's
legs straightened, letting out a loud cry.

"Master, Master, fuck me harder!"

With a little force, his wife thrust in all the way, and after a few thrusts, the senior student's delicate body trembled wildly, experiencing one orgasm after another.

After the afterglow, his wife turned the senior student's head and their lips met, exchanging saliva. She rarely
showed such passion when she was with me.

A moment later, the two of them stepped into the bathtub to bathe together, while I was lost in memories.

The senior student who was passive in this sexual game was originally a famous ice queen in college, but she was only
kind and gentle to my wife. At that time, she was my girlfriend, and I also enjoyed a lot of her smiles.

Later, they often went on outings together, which made me the target of jealousy from all the male students in the school, and no matter how much I explained,
it was useless.

But now I'm having sex with my wife, and I'm playing the passive role. In lesbian relationships, they call someone a
"P"? So my wife is a "T"? I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Although my wife did cheat on me,
it was with a goddess-like woman. What am I in this relationship? Am I a lesbian using someone else's sperm? Or just looking for a long-term
meal ticket? Or both? I can only try to find some subtle evidence to question my wife when I get home. If it really comes
to court, at least it'll be more respectable in terms of appearances and procedures.

"Ugh, what's this?"

I snapped out of my reverie. The screen was filled with my senior's face, which was swaying slightly. I immediately
fell silent. If this were discovered, my relationship with my wife would plummet, my moral high ground
would crumble, and the evidence I'd secretly taken wouldn't stand a chance (that's how it's set up in this world! Please don't criticize
!).

My wife wrapped her arms around my senior, whispering sweet nothings, "Oh, this is
the little toy the one who's not home left behind. Isn't it cute?"

My senior pouted. "Can it be cuter than me?"

My wife's hands restlessly reached for my senior's breasts, still damp with shower gel. "Of course you're cute!
After all, I've only ever seen breasts this big and perky in real life."

Her words left no room for me to interfere, as if they were a match made in heaven.

Time passed, and the two got up from the shower. Before leaving, my wife casually glanced at my little toy

... " Dummy

!"

A soft moan snapped me back to reality from the flashing screen. It turned out I'd been writing erotic fiction
, and my childhood sweetheart was sulking outside. She'd called several times, but I hadn't
answered.

I quickly opened the door, apologizing profusely, and promised to go shopping with her that weekend—an unfair deal—finally bringing a
smile back to her face.

Suddenly, she looked at my screen suspiciously. "I could hear you typing outside . You're not doing
anything I can't know, are you?"

But the screen showed a game in progress.

"Hmph, you're always playing games, and you don't even answer my calls? The worst part is you don't include me!
"

I quickly added with a forced smile, "Next time, next time, definitely." I

'd finally gotten away with it. It's best if my erotic fiction writing remains a secret forever.

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