Taming My Wife

(I)

My wife and I got married this March, so it's been five months. We're a harmonious couple, and to outsiders, we seem like a perfect match, a loving and harmonious pair. But that's not the case. We actually have significant differences in personality, which I'll explain today.

First, our family backgrounds: She's 26. Her father is a university professor of Chinese literature, originally from Beijing. His main areas of expertise are classical Chinese poetry and Tang Dynasty novels. He has a prolific body of work and is renowned both domestically and internationally. Her mother is an associate professor at the National University of the Arts and a famous coloratura soprano. I am a high-achieving student from a prestigious high school. After graduating, I went to the Juilliard School in the United States, majoring in harp and piano, with a minor in composition. After graduating, I returned to China and am now a harpist in a symphony orchestra. My only daughter is gentle and beautiful, but perhaps a bit clueless about family matters. She is about 165cm tall and weighs about 49kg (all figures I estimated). I am 29. My father graduated from high school and started his business from scratch in the lending industry. He is now the chairman of a private equity fund and is actually a well-known stock market investor. My mother dropped out of university. She was considered the campus beauty (according to my dad), but married my dad before graduating. She's very good at stock investing; you can usually only see her at the stock exchange in the mornings, and in the afternoons she might be with a large group of wealthy women who follow her to the exchange or department stores. I'm 178cm tall and weigh 75kg. I enjoy basketball and swimming. I majored in International Business and double-majored in Law in university. Although my grades weren't outstanding, my dad donated a building to the school, and I received an award for excellence and graduated. I'm also an only child.

II. Education: She has a Master's degree from a US music conservatory. I have a Master's degree from an American university.

III. Romantic History: She may have no romantic history. I've had girlfriends, but there have never been any cases of girlfriends getting pregnant with me, although one girl once tried to commit suicide for me.

IV. Hobbies: She enjoys classical music, movies, and reading. I enjoy jazz and American country music, travel, and photography.

V. Occupations: She's a band member. I'm the CEO of a private equity fund (actually, the second-generation owner of a stock trading company).

Based on the above points, you can see that it's impossible for us to be together. But I'm not interested in any girl in the world. With my 178cm, 75kg athletic build and my dad's wealth, as long as I'm determined to marry her, I'm sure I can succeed. I met her at a classmate's wedding at the end of last year. She happened to be sitting next to me, and I was captivated by her beauty and elegant demeanor. I then inquired about her and decided to marry her.

(II) Getting to know her

: I used my subordinates, and now I know a lot about her: her name, workplace and location, commuting time and route, her sister-in-law is unmarried and single, her parents' situation, and her social circle. I even know her menstrual cycle dates.

I need to come up with a memorable opening scene. My subordinates (my strategist) and I discussed using the recent rainy season to create an opportunity.

After days of heavy rain, the weather forecast for this morning was "sunny." She got off the bus, wearing a white dress with red flowers, and stomped off to work in her high heels. Suddenly, a car splashed her with mud as it sped past a puddle. She was stunned and hadn't even reacted when a motorcycle came speeding by. The driver couldn't brake in time, overturned, and knocked her into the puddle. She was covered in mud, her hair and face smeared. The motorcyclist stopped to ask if she was hurt, picked up the motorcycle, and rode away. She looked panicked and helpless, surrounded by a crowd. Just then, a new white Ponchi SEL450 pulled over. A 178cm tall man in a well-tailored suit got out of the back seat.

"Oh, isn't this Ms. Ou? Are you hurt? I'll take you to the hospital," I said.

"No! No!" she said hurriedly.

"Where are you going? I'll take you," I said, ignoring my new suit jacket, I practically shoved her into the car. She was embarrassed by the mud and the stares of the crowd, so she got in too.

When she saw my impeccably tailored suit covered in mud and the pristine car seat covers ruined, she stammered, unable to speak.

"It's alright, it'll wash clean," I said casually.

"How do you know me? I don't remember seeing you before," she asked, puzzled.

"I'm a fan. I've heard you play the harp many times. I even sent a flower basket to your performance of Ave Maria Gounod in the university auditorium last month" (God knows, even I don't remember that). She was very touched and, after a moment's thought, asked, "What's your surname?"

"My surname is Jian, the Jian of simple things," I said sincerely.

"Where do you live? Let me take you home to change."

"I live in the south, it's quite far from here, let me take a taxi."

"In your current state, who would take you in a taxi?"

"How about this, my home is nearby, you can shower and change at my place. My housekeeper is about your size, you can try borrowing one or two pieces of clothing from her, or you can ask her to buy a set at the nearby department store to make do. I have an important meeting at my company at 9:30, and I need to go back and change my clothes." Before she could agree, the driver had already driven the car down to the basement of the residential building.

Miss Zeng, the housekeeper, is actually the daughter of my real housekeeper, Mrs. Zeng. She was temporarily recruited to replace her mother at work.

Her figure is quite different from Miss Ou, whom I tricked into coming. She greeted us at the door, saying, "Ms. Zeng, this is my guest, Miss Ou. Please help her get ready and see if there are any clothes she can borrow temporarily. If not, use my credit card to drive to the department store and buy her a suitable outfit. Don't worry about the price; Miss Ou is a musician you can't hire."

Miss Zeng said, "Yes."

"I'll wash up and change in the maid's room. I have to rush to the company for a meeting, so don't mess things up."

I went into the maid's room to wash up, changed into a suit, and went out.

Miss Zeng went to her room and brought out a pure white women's dress with two large red butterflies. I had bought it yesterday according to Miss Ou's size, and it fit her perfectly.

Because she hadn't asked my name and felt awkward leaving without thanking me in person, she made a phone call home from my house. The rest of the time, she wandered around my study, browsing my Blu-ray records, mostly works by Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin, Puccini, Weber, Dvo?ák, and others. She also looked at my book collection, which included works by Li Qingzhao, Li Yu, Zhou Bangyan, Su Shi, Nalan Xingde, Du Fu, Tang Dynasty novels, and several works by Professor Ou.

I didn't appear at my front door until 5:30 PM. Seeing that Ms. Ou hadn't left, I feigned surprise and invited her to dinner. She said she had bothered me all day and that I had spent money on such a beautiful dress, so she would treat me to dinner. I readily accepted, asking her to suggest a restaurant. We walked together to Chilis Restaurant on Minsheng East Road for iced beer and roast chicken. During the meal, we exchanged names and phone numbers. Afterwards, we naturally strolled hand-in-hand back to my residence, and then my driver took her home.

After that, I seized the opportunity to pursue her passionately, and we quickly entered a passionate relationship. Soon we progressed to the point of French kissing and touching each other's breasts.

(III)

Two months after the exam, one day she told me that her father wanted to see me.

"Bingo!" The water is almost there, and the canal is almost finished. I have four strategists, and I memorized the materials on classical Chinese studies provided by my strategist overnight, and I also crammed on their joint masterpiece (the big subsidy).

The next day, accompanied by Fenghuang (her given name), we drove to a secluded house in Waishuangxi, Shilin District. The house was surrounded by ivy-covered walls, and two bougainvillea bushes, one purple-red and one yellow, stood to the left and right of the red gate. The house was quite spacious, easily 60 to 70 pings (approximately 33 to 33 square meters). Upon entering the living room, Professor Ou, the host, rose from the sofa to greet us. I quickly stepped forward and gave a half-bow. "Uncle Ou, hello. I haven't paid my respects to you before; please forgive my rudeness. I've been summoned here, so please forgive me first." I bowed deeply, receiving his outstretched hand in a respectful 15-degree bow.

Professor Ou smiled and looked me over, seemingly pleased with my response.

"Please don't be shy, please sit down," he said, gesturing to a two-seater sofa beside him. Fenghuang sat down next to me as well. After some casual conversation about my family background, profession, and education, he invited me into his study. Phoenix waited anxiously for me, accompanying me into his study. She began asking about my personal information, which I answered truthfully. Gradually, Professor Ou's expression hardened as he asked, "I heard from my daughter that you are quite knowledgeable about Chinese literature, is that right?" Oh! He was testing me.

"No, no, that was just your daughter putting on a good show. Before you, a master of Chinese studies, I'm nothing but a grain of rice, nothing special," Bingo! I knew the real question was coming; the information the strategist group had given me would come in handy.

"Who is the ancient scholar you admire most? Why?" Professor Ou asked.

"Su Shi, Mr. Dongpo. Whether in prose, poetry, lyrics, or calligraphy, he stands alone in the Chinese literary world, a master in his own right, unparalleled in his field. It's a pity his official career was fraught with difficulties, and he didn't receive the recognition he deserved.

" "What are your views on ancient Chinese poets?" Professor Ou pressed further.

"The scope of lyricists is too broad to cover all at once, but let's take a few of the most famous ones as examples. Li Qingzhao's 'Chrysanthemums by the Eastern Fence at Dusk, Their Fragrance Lingers' is a timeless masterpiece, born from the hardships of war. Li Yu's 'Tears for Palace Maids and the Passing Spring River' expresses the sorrow of a fallen monarch. Su Shi's 'The Great River Flows East, Washing Away the Heroes of a Thousand Years' is truly a timeless masterpiece. Furthermore, Zhou Yanbang of the Northern Song Dynasty's lyrics, with their precise rhythm and elegant meter, also possess a gentlemanly air," I rattled off a list of lyricists, hoping he wouldn't press further.

"It's Zhou Bangyan, not Zhou Yanbang," he corrected me.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! I was too nervous, I misspoke," I said, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from my brow.

Actually, this was something my advisors had taught me.

"What are your thoughts on Liu Yong's lyrics?" he asked again.

"Many people think he has a bad character, but it's not good to criticize a scholar who is frustrated in his official career for being dissolute after drinking. As long as a scholar can write 'Where will I be when I wake up tonight? Willow bank, dawn breeze and waning moon', he can be passed down for thousands of years. In addition, he is willing to exchange his fleeting fame for leisurely drinking and singing. I like him." I was anxious and told him not to ask any more questions or he would break down.

Then we talked about Han Yu. I said that although Changli (Han Yu) revived the literary style after eight generations of decline, his official career was also fraught with setbacks, and he was unfortunately demoted to Chaozhou. Then we talked about Wen Tianxiang, the Duke of Xin, and I said that the line from the Song of Righteousness, "The head of the rebellious is broken, it is the spirit that is overwhelming, its fierceness will last for ten thousand ages," is earth-shattering and makes ghosts and gods weep. He sought benevolence and obtained it, and even in death he was honored. Then we mentioned Nalan Xingde's lyrics. I said that he was the cousin of the Kangxi Emperor of the Qing Dynasty. As a Manchu of noble birth, he was able to integrate Chinese culture to write lyrics and compose music, which is rare. He is known as the first lyricist of the Qing Dynasty. However, I think his lyrics lack the heroic spirit of the Eight Banners soldiers who conquered the world on horseback, and have a more rustic feel. No wonder he did not live long. (Actually, all of this is just gleaning from Professor Ou's great work.)

"Where does this come from?"

"The line 'Why does this come from the dialogue between Emperor Zhongzong of the Southern Tang Dynasty and Wen Tingyun' is from the Song of Righteousness." My palms were sweating.

"It's Feng Yanji, not Wen Tingyun, ha! ha!" Professor Ou laughed, and I was so ashamed I wanted to disappear.

"Yes! I was nervous and said the wrong thing," I thought to myself. Who could possibly know the answer to this random question ? Damn it.

"Right, right, I was nervous and got the name wrong."

"Have you read any Tang Dynasty tales?" he asked again. "

I've read some, like *The Tale of Li Wa*, *The Tales of the Immortals*, and *The Tale of the White Ape*, but not many," I replied, sweating profusely and feeling quite flustered. He nodded, tapped his pipe, and said with a soft "Mmm!" "The Tales of the Immortals is an erotic book, not suitable for reading too much. Alright! Kid, you've passed my test. For a student studying business and law, this foundation is quite good. I always thought businessmen were profit-driven and heavy-hearted, but you've impressed me today. You'd better go and see your mother-in-law." He clearly considered me his son-in-law, and Phoenix, standing beside me, smiled broadly, clearly very happy.

I pressed my advantage, saying, "Ah! I wasn't at your house three days ago," which made Professor Ou burst into laughter.

Back in the living room, Professor Ou's mother had already cut watermelon and pears and placed them on the coffee table. Professor Ou sat in the main seat of the single sofa, smoking his pipe, smiling as he carefully examined us. Professor Ou's mother sat opposite us, also smiling broadly, looking at us with the eyes of a mother-in-law looking at her son-in-law.

"Mr. Jane, I heard from Phoenix that you're quite knowledgeable about music. Do you play any instruments? What kind of music do you like to listen to?"

"That's just Miss Phoenix exaggerating. I don't really have much knowledge. I just play the guitar occasionally and enjoy listening to classical music. Because I'm quite busy with work, I prefer shorter pieces like Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, Pathétique, and Violin Sonata in D major; Chopin's Boranices; Dvo?ák's New World; Handel's Messiah; Debussy's symphonic poems; and I love Beethoven's Eroica, Fate, and Pastoral poems, as well as choral pieces. I also love Tchaikovsky's Fifth, and there are so many others I can't even recall them all right now. I don't particularly like Wagner's Ring Cycle and other similar pieces."

She then asked, "Do you like vocal music?"

"I love it!" I said.

Her eyes lit up, and she exclaimed, "Oh! What kind do you like?"

"Tenors like Tenor, Beauvalotti, Domingo, Carreras, and Bocelli—I never tire of their Italian folk songs and opera performances!" Speaking of my favorite singers, I couldn't help but get excited. But then I suddenly remembered that my aunt was a soprano singer and teacher, so I quickly added, "I also like Maria Callas, Sarah Brightman, Mario, and Lanza, all coloratura sopranos." I deliberately misspoke, then corrected myself, "Oh! No, Mario and Lanza are male; they're the lead singers behind the film *The Student Prince*." My aunt smiled and didn't press me further.

Having passed all my exams, my parents invited me to stay for dinner. During and after the meal, they treated me like their beloved son-in-law. Professor Ou kept praising me, saying, "You could take my doctoral course in Chinese literature; with your extensive knowledge and excellent memory, you'll definitely have no problem." I thought to myself, I don't want to take any doctoral studies in literature; I earn more in a month than you earn in a lifetime. Phoenix kept saying she was so nervous, afraid I'd embarrass myself or fail, and she was constantly worried about losing.

After it was over, Uncle Ou saw me off at the door and told me to go and meet my parents. Phoenix hid behind her parents and gave me a V-sign.

Mission accomplished! The next day, I rewarded my strategists with NT$100,000 each.

(IV) Wedding

We got married on March 29th, Youth Day, at the Ambassador Hotel in Taipei. Many of my father's business and political figures attended, as did many of my university professors, classmates, and executives from my company.

The bride's side had several tables occupied by the university president and professors, and a large number of classmates. It's worth mentioning that Phoenix, her symphony orchestra conductor, and her colleagues brought orchestral instruments to play the wedding entrance and exit music, which was much more impressive than a typical piano performance. During the intermission, Uncle Ou also sang, performing "A Beautiful Day" from Puccini's Madame Butterfly and "My Name Is Mimi" from La Bohème.

In the evening, we returned to our new house. Our classmates and friends had been making a ruckus in the new house for a long time. Many of them played pranks and asked us a lot of difficult questions, which Fenghuang dealt with one by one. Late at night, our relatives and friends gradually dispersed, and both sets of parents also left. The bridal chamber became quiet, and after locking the door, only Fenghuang and I were left in the room.

I said to Phoenix, "It's late, and we've been exhausted for three or four days. Now we can finally catch our breath. Shall we go to bed and rest?"

"Yes, I need to wash my hands and take a bath before I sleep," she said, needing to pee. As soon as I entered the bathroom, I heard her loudly relieve herself, followed quickly by the sounds of brushing her teeth and running water. I wanted to go in to pee too, but the bathroom door was locked. I knocked and asked to come in. She asked what I needed to do. I said I needed to pee, and she said, "Go to the maid's room." I said, "Mrs. Zeng needs to use it," and she said, "You're lying."

"Wait a minute, I'll be right back. I'll get dressed and come out quickly," she replied from inside.

"I drank so much beer, I'm about to die. I'll just pee at the door," I pretended.

"No! No! I'm done! I'm done!" She rushed out of the bathroom in a pink nightgown and went straight to bed. I quickly brushed my teeth, washed my hands, dried myself, and rushed to bed.

"Hey! What's wrong with you? You're in bed without any clothes on!" she yelled.

"How can I sleep if I wear clothes? I never sleep in clothes," I said.

She got flustered and threw the blanket at me. I pulled the blanket over myself, reached out and pulled her back into bed, and casually pressed the remote control for the bedside stereo. The duet from Madame Butterfly softly played from the surround sound system. The lights dimmed.

"It's time to sleep, stop fooling around," she said, pulling away my hand that was touching her breast through her pajamas.

"Are you really that clueless or just pretending?" I reached further inside her pajamas and grabbed her breast, squeezing it. She became even more nervous and flustered.

"Didn't your mother teach you what to do on a bride's first night?" I asked, trying to kiss her. She was even more confused, unsure how to react.

She probably knew what was going to happen, but she just hadn't expected it to come so soon. A moment later, she couldn't help but chuckle, burying her head in my chest and giggling.

"It's my first time, I'm shy," she said, then pulled a large, pure white bath towel from under her pillow and draped it over herself.

I hugged her tighter, kissed her cheek, and casually slipped my hand inside her panties. She tensed up slightly, her legs clamping together, but I remained firmly still, gently touching her pubic bone. She froze, seemingly holding her breath, her body trembling slightly.

Her pubic hair was sparse but very soft. I covered it, holding it in place, my middle finger pressing against her slightly protruding clitoris—soft, comfortable, and incredibly pleasant.

After a half-minute pause, I gently rubbed it with my fingertips. At first, her body was stiff, but it softened quickly, and her thighs began to open slightly. My hand slid down to her anus, and I found some lubricating fluid. I knew it was time. I spread her thighs and climbed onto her front, raising my long-erect penis to the opening, ready to enter. Suddenly, I noticed she was trembling with tension. I was also suddenly struck by the realization that this woman beneath me was different from any other woman I had ever been with. This was the woman I had painstakingly won over, not any of the women I had conquered with money. I couldn't afford to mess this up today; considering the investment and return, I couldn't act rashly.

I abruptly stopped myself, lay back down, facing her, and lay on my side beside her. I put my arm around her, placing one of her legs between mine, and whispered, "Fengfeng, are you scared?"

She shook her head and buried her head in my chest. My hard penis throbbed against our bellies, making her giggle with ticklishness. Although she was still a virgin, she was 27 years old; how could she be completely clueless? I hugged her tighter, and her hand finally touched my long-erect penis. I seized the opportunity and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. She buried her head even deeper into my chest in embarrassment, but still didn't let go of my penis. I knew the moment had come. I rolled over and adjusted our positions, aiming my penis at her vaginal opening. She said, "Be gentle!"

I nodded, straightened my body, and thrust in all the way in with a "plop." She wasn't expecting me to be so ruthless, breaking through her hymen in one go, reaching heaven. She screamed in pain, completely flustered, clinging to me as if her ribs were about to break. I felt a secret satisfaction. I'd gone to so much trouble for her; I should teach her a lesson. But I said, "Oops! I'm sorry, I've never done this before, I don't know my own strength. You told me to go faster, so I went faster, but I didn't expect it to be so slippery, and it slipped in too far. I'm sorry, I won't do it again." I stood there, motionless. She looked angry, about to throw a tantrum, but hearing this, she was both angry and amused, and actually laughed, saying, "I told you to be gentler, not faster! Next time! I don't have a next time for you to break through!" He moved his hips and commanded, "Continue!"

After receiving my command, I slowly began to thrust. At first, she was a little afraid of the pain and her movements were somewhat restrained. Gradually, she began to cooperate with natural reflexes. Inexperienced girls don't last long, and she soon reached orgasm. Actually, I had been working hard these past few days, and my body was telling me I was tired, so I took the opportunity to rest, carried her, and we fell asleep in each other's arms.

When I woke up in the morning, I found my wife naked, sharing a blanket with me, still fast asleep. But I couldn't help but gently caress her delicate breasts. Soon, I must have touched her nipple and it woke her up. She opened her eyes groggily, saw me, paused for a moment, then woke up fully and kissed me on the cheek.

That kiss stirred my desire, and my penis started to act up. I nudged her stomach, and she laughed, reaching out to touch it, saying, "You naughty thing, I'll spank you." Her touch caused my penis to suddenly rise, becoming erect and swollen. She was startled, and I seized the opportunity to roll over and climb on top of her. She had barely uttered "No" when I had already inserted my entire glans. I said, "Okay! I'll get off," and made a move to pull out.

"No, don't pull it out," she

cried, arching her back to meet me. I thought to myself, "Good," and began to thrust boldly. Because I had already released last night, I was particularly resistant this morning, so I focused on thrusting in and out, observing her reactions.

She closed her eyes peacefully, seemingly fast asleep, but sometimes she would open them and look at me with a vacant, innocent gaze. When I thrust in and out quickly a dozen times, her face tensed, and she held me tightly, clearly enjoying herself. She fully displayed the awakening of desire in a vibrant 27-year-old woman. I knew she was a wonderful sexual partner; she would let me enjoy the love I could give her. After

a series of rapid thrusts, her vagina contracted, her limbs encircling me, her pubic area pressing against my abdomen, letting out a series of incomprehensible moans before closing her mouth tightly, inhaling deeply, and then collapsing onto the bed in a sprawling, exhaling air, before returning to her ladylike posture.

I know many women don't often experience orgasm during sex, some never even once in their lives. My wife experienced two orgasms on our wedding night, which is truly remarkable.

After getting up, I saw a bloodstain in the center of the large white bath towel she had spread on the bed. She blushed and quickly rolled it up and tucked it under her pillow. While she was putting on makeup, I said to her, "From now on, I'll call you Fengfeng." I paused and added, "You can call me Xunhua, that's what my parents call me. In the bedroom, we can call each other 'honey'.

" She said, "Yes, honey."

In the first two or three months of our marriage, I was busy with the company's operations during the day, while she continued working and performing with the orchestra. We bought a Steinway grand piano and occasionally practiced or played at home. We made love almost twice every three nights, rarely taking a break. She also loved making love with me, but this girl, raised in an ivory tower, had unchanging positions. Compared to my other girlfriends before marriage, she was rather old-fashioned, like chewing sugarcane root. To be honest, it wasn't very interesting.

Recently, due to the government's suspension of nuclear power plant construction, the stock market teetered on the brink of collapse, gradually plummeting from 12,000 points to just over 2,000. Many people were trapped and went bankrupt. Our company, having shorted the market early, actually made a fortune. However, many retail investors who had borrowed money from our company were left holding the bag. We had to proceed with extreme caution, ruthlessly eliminating those who were losing money, even though it was a bloodbath. One wrong move could result in devastating losses. After several months of focused trading, we finally increased our revenue by 100 billion. Meanwhile, my father, who was trading against us, lost over 20 billion before the situation stabilized. We also generously rewarded our meritorious employees.

During this turbulent period, I held a large sum of money every minute, knowing that a single misjudgment could wipe out all my assets overnight. But I carefully handled every situation, fighting for every inch of ground, and ultimately annihilated our opponents, my hands stained with blood as a triumphant song. But every day after the market closed, a murderous aura surged from within me, an urgent need to vent on my beloved wife. Her delicate, gentle demeanor couldn't dispel the tension in my heart.

That day, we lay naked on the bed, with the drinking song of La Traviata playing in the background. She spread her snow-white thighs, and I knelt between them. In a surge of impulse, I grabbed two pillows and stuffed them under her buttocks, hoisting her legs onto my shoulders. Under the bright light, her peach blossom cave was fully exposed before my eyes, glistening with seductive glances. Before she could react, I bent down and thrust in, all the way in, beginning to pump and thrust forcefully, each thrust powerful and forceful, a fierce onslaught, and I ejaculated into her, filling her vagina with pleasure. It was so exhilarating.

Looking at her again, she stared at me blankly with disbelief and astonishment, her face full of questions. "What's wrong? Are you crazy? Is this really you, honey?" she asked.

"Yes! This is the real me. I love you. I want to make love to you wildly. I don't want that lukewarm, half-dead kind of love. I want passionate, crazy, and intense lovemaking with you. I want to have a dozen sons and daughters who can play basketball with you," I blurted out, finally letting out the words I'd been holding back for so long.

She seemed touched. "Okay, honey," she said, "I'll give you a basketball team or a symphony orchestra." She pulled me close and kissed me. We turned off

the lights, covered ourselves with the blanket, hugged, and went to sleep.

(V) Lesson 3

Today is my 31st birthday. My mother-in-law called to say that she hadn't seen her precious daughter for almost a month, and that she and her husband would come to visit him on his birthday. Professor Ou also took the opportunity to see my study. I've been busy with his precious daughter for the past six months, so I haven't had time to go to the study. I hurriedly called my strategist to come to my house to help me decorate, as if I'm always reading and never put down my books.

I booked a birthday banquet at the Jinghua Hotel and invited my parents to attend. We drank red wine and had a great time. It was quite late when my parents-in-law and I arrived at my new home. I showed Professor Ou around the study, and my father-in-law praised him

, saying that he still finds time to study even while working, which is truly remarkable. My mother-in-law tried out the Stanway again and again, playing the erhu and praising its excellent tone. She also played some short pieces by Chopin. After seeing the two elders off, my wife said she wanted to give me a birthday present, which she placed in the bedroom.

We went into the bedroom hand in hand. He asked me to sit on the edge of the bed. I asked her what gift she had prepared. She took off her coat, tied a ribbon flower in her hair, bowed to me, and said, "I dedicate this entire night to you, honey." She

then sat naked in my lap. I kissed her and asked her what she wanted to do. She smiled and said, "Teach me the third lesson!"

"What third lesson?" I was a little confused.

"The first lesson is you climbing on top of me. The second lesson is me straddling your shoulders. I don't know what the third lesson is," she said playfully. I reached out and rubbed her nipples, and she tightened her arms around them

because she was ticklish. I thought for a moment, then lay down on the bed and had her straddle me.

My penis was hard and pointing upwards. I said to her, "Sit on top, and slowly insert it, straight up and down, don't go astray." She did as I said.

She squatted down with her legs to the sides and swallowed my entire penis.

"Go as low as possible, all the way in," I said.

She placed her hands on my shoulders and carefully sat on my lap. Her vagina was very slippery, and I felt as if I could slide right in and reach her cervix. She smiled at me, then lifted her buttocks and pulled my penis halfway out. I thrust upwards from below and went back in. I deliberately said, "Your vagina is so slippery."

"What nonsense are you talking about, it's dirty!"

"Every woman has one, I don't think it's dirty. Do you think it's dirty just because you have one?

" "What else would you call it?" I retorted confidently, while continuing my piston-like movements.

She had to manage both her upper and lower body, and while she wanted to argue, she couldn't think of the right words, so she could only use her movements to cover up her awkwardness.

Soon, she blushed and reached orgasm.

From then on, in bed, that thing between her legs was officially called (vagina).

The princess was gradually stepping out of her ivory tower, and I liked it.

The next day, our class moved to the doggy style.

(VI) Advanced Level:

My husband and I remain polite and well-mannered in the living room, kitchen, and in front of the driver and maid. We are business people and elegant ladies from prestigious families. However, once we enter the bedroom, we immediately transform into a pair of wolves and tigers, a newlywed couple driven by lust and desire.

On my thirtieth birthday, Fengfeng announced that she was a month and a half pregnant, as confirmed by a doctor. I quickly shared the good news with both sets of parents, and everyone was overjoyed.

"Honey, your pussy has done a great job. You should accept a deep kiss as a reward, right?"

"Okay!" She leaned in to kiss me.

"Not this mouth, but the one down there."

"What? You're messing around! No way!" Her face flushed instantly, and she couldn't speak.

"Why not? It's part of your beloved body. Why can I kiss other parts but not the pussy? Is it periodontitis? Or did you not brush your teeth this morning?" I said seriously.

"If I had teeth, I would have bitten your dick off long ago," she blurted out a dirty word.

"Dick? You mean you're going to bite my dick off? Okay, come on then," I seized on her slip of the tongue, pushing my luck, and she lowered her head in embarrassment, shrinking back into my arms.

I removed her clothes, kissed her lips, supported her back with one hand, and rubbed her breasts with the other, slowly laying her down on the bed. My hand slowly moved towards her private area, gently stroking her swollen clitoris. She slowly relaxed and opened her thighs. I bent down and licked her nipples. She arched her body, her nipples pressed tightly against my tongue, her hands clenched into fists, and her breathing suddenly became very loud.

I kissed my way down her clitoris until I reached the entrance to her vagina, which was filled with a slippery liquid with a slightly sour smell. I kissed it for a long time and even sucked on it before letting go. I climbed up to face her and tried to kiss her, but she quickly turned her face away and angrily said, "Disgusting! You filthy devil! I don't want it, you filthy devil!"

"Hey! This is your own stuff, our baby's nutrient solution. Do you think I'm dirty?" I pretended to be angry and didn't want to continue making love. She was a little embarrassed and had no choice but to turn around and kiss me. I said, "I've already swallowed the best part. Let me suck some more and feed it to you."

(VII) Postscript:

After my training, I cannot reveal more details about my wife, but her bedroom skills have improved day by day. She has matured from a young woman into my closest wife and lover. She is already a mother of three. We have a son, and our second child is a pair of bright-eyed twin girls. Currently, we are working towards the goal of forming a 100-person symphony orchestra. My father-in-law has already asked us to give our fourth child to them so that they can raise him (or her) to be a Chinese literature PhD who is proficient in music. Please cheer us on.

Impossible mission! One child a year, that would require about 97 more to achieve the goal. Fengfeng is 31 this year, so she'd probably have to give birth until she's 127 to succeed! Oh! By then, the eldest son will be 100, and the youngest will be a month old. Does anyone live that long? Are there any women over 60 who can still have children? Oh! Impossible mission, okay, I'll compromise and have a basketball team's worth. My dear wife, you've worked so hard!

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