The Dean's Twelve Beauties

Chapter 1 of The Dean's Twelve
Beauties: Petals rained down from the sky as we stepped to the wedding march, exchanging vows of love. The bride beside me was a sight to behold, putting considerable pressure on the men present. Her pristine white wedding dress perfectly accentuated her proportions, her medium-length, dark brown hair styled in an updo, and a lily blooming beneath her white neck concealed her deep cleavage. Her long, slender legs filled out the dress, requiring little effort to lift the hem. At 1.79 meters tall, she stood out prominently in the small hotel. Her white dress and fair skin made her appear like a bright lighthouse on the stage, while I, the groom, at only 1.73 meters, felt like the lighthouse keeper.
However, having chosen each other, I was prepared for this pressure. But what followed was completely unexpected. Just as the emcee announced the toasting ceremony, the bridesmaid, holding a glass of red wine, threw it at my wife…
This bridesmaid was none other than my cousin, Wang Yihan. Speaking of her, it was a small mistake I made when I was young: When I was in college, I went to the countryside for summer vacation and met my cousin who was studying at a vocational high school. We hit it off immediately, and after a summer of fun, we couldn't resist and crossed the line when no one was home at my aunt's house. Little did I know that this would be my cousin's first time.
My cousin started college at a nursing school and came to visit us. All the students around me wanted me to introduce her to them as their girlfriends, unaware that she was actually in a relationship with me. Unexpectedly, I met my current wife, Yao Jingting, at college. As I matured, I realized that there was no future with my cousin, and I tried to persuade her to break up with me many times, but she wouldn't let it go. She even told my aunt about our affair, and my mother's family naturally wouldn't forgive me. Fortunately, Yao Jingting was very understanding, and she was the only one who stayed by my side during this time.
My cousin, intending to alienate me from everyone, ironically strengthened my relationship with my wife. She became self-destructive, smoking, drinking, and self-harming. This, ironically, made my mother's family much more lenient towards me. I graduated in this absurd way; I passed the civil service exam in a remote county in Mashan City, while my wife, even more ambitious, first became a math teacher at a top city high school and is now a key member of the education system. My cousin had always been a source of conflict between my wife and me. After much persuasion, she finally agreed to bless us and accept my wife's request to be her bridesmaid. But then, the scene above unfolded.
Seeing the lily on my wife's chest turn a glistening red, my mind went blank. The noise from the audience made it impossible to hear anything, and I don't know how I ended this awkward ceremony. Fortunately, the emcee was clever enough to allow the wedding to continue.
During the toasts, my cousin was nowhere to be seen. My mother looked at my wife with regret; she had changed into a cheongsam and acted as if nothing had happened. Before my mother could speak, my aunt, sitting beside me, said, "Jingchen, you're finally married! In a few more months, your sister will be holding her grandchild! How wonderful!"
My aunt still had that hearty, country-woman's manner.
"Thank you, Auntie."
I finished my drink and asked her softly, "Where's my cousin?"
"Sigh, don't mention her. I've raised this daughter for nothing."
My aunt said angrily, then looked at me apologetically, "Sigh, you're so happy today, but you've caused such a mess. When I find her, I'll beat her to death."
"Hey, Auntie, don't say that."
My wife drank her beverage and interrupted, "Actually, Hanhan is quite pitiful too. I... I guess I'm the one who wronged her first..."
My wife's voice grew softer and softer until she couldn't even hear herself anymore. Perhaps it was the red cheongsam that made her fair cheeks look flushed, as if she were drunk. She stood beside me with her head down and back hunched over, as if to match our height difference. But I knew her other secret: she was trying to hide her rather exaggeratedly large breasts.
"Hmm, it's a joyous occasion, let's not talk about these things."
I smiled and pulled my wife to the next table.
The day passed peacefully. After such an embarrassing incident during the day, none of my buddies were interested in making a ruckus in the bridal chamber. It was better that no one came. I groggily got into bed, lifted the covers, and started to touch her ivory-white, slender legs.
"Where are you touching?"
My wife laughed and smacked my head. "Come in."
She pulled me into the covers. It wasn't that cold in the summer, why did I need to be covered up when I was having sex with my wife? But although I thought that, I didn't dare say it aloud.
I kissed her groggily for a while, following her smooth face to her swan-like neck, and continued downwards... After a long time, I still hadn't taken off her cheongsam.
"You've been back for so long, and you haven't taken off your clothes?"
I asked her.
My wife turned her face away, not looking at me.
I don't know if it was because I was drunk, but I couldn't untie it no matter how hard I tried.
"Oh dear, I'll do it myself. It's so hot, you can cool off outside for a while."
My wife kicked me out of bed. It was indeed very hot; why would you need a blanket if it's this hot?
My wife took off her cheongsam, quietly tossed it aside, gave me a meaningful look, and then turned away. Of course, I knew what she meant. I lifted the blanket, turned her onto her back, and pounced on her like a hungry tiger. The expanse
of snow-white skin in front of me made me feel much cooler. Two deep curves were etched in the snow, and when I pounced on her, they rippled.
"Ugh, where are you looking!"
My wife covered her chest. It turned out I had been staring at the outer edge of her large, full breasts. "This is for the baby, you big pervert, you're not allowed to look."
My wife poked my forehead with her finger. Although we had known each other for six years, I had never touched her towering breasts. I even wore a bra every time we made love, and she was always shy about looking at them, so I rarely saw them. What kind of scene lay beneath that greyish-white full-cup bra? I could only imagine it through the outline of its edges.
"Baby?"
I asked, interrupting. Hearing my repetition, a trace of sadness crossed my wife's face. She withdrew her hand, gazing at me thoughtfully.
While kissing, I entered her body. Perhaps because of our marriage, her vulva was already wet. Using the lubrication, I inserted my penis.
"Mmm! Gently!"
my wife commanded, her eyes closed.
I wanted to be gentler, but I lacked the strength. When I first started pursuing my wife, my roommates called me "Cuckold Bro." Partly because there was so much competition—not only from the sports academy and most of the guys over 180cm tall, but also from short guys like me who overestimated themselves and wanted to try their luck. My roommates often said, "The bond between comrades is strong; today, probably over thirty more have sacrificed themselves, and a dozen more have fled." Sacrifice meant rejection, and fleeing meant giving up after being rejected for so long. With so many comrades, it was hard not to be cuckolded. On the other hand, they guessed that a woman with Yao Jingting's Western-style figure must have a Western-style vagina. They reasoned, "How can a 0.5mm pencil lead work in a 1.2mm mechanical pencil? It won't be fun!"
Actually, they were wrong. The first time I entered my wife's body, I found she was practically a 0.1mm pencil lead.
Her vagina was tight and hot; my hard penis felt like it was being crushed by the tender walls, making it difficult to move in or out. My wife's brows furrowed, and she bit her lower lip, seemingly enduring torment.
I finally managed to pull out, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Sex, something so pleasurable, felt incredibly strenuous for my wife and me. I lay on top of her, the delicate fragrance of her body wafting from her neck, which sobered me up considerably. My penis, now fully alert, launched its second attack.
In those adult films, sex was like a piston, swift and powerful; my union with my wife felt like tightening a screw. This second thrust wasn't much stronger than the first. Was I doing something wrong?
My wife covered her bra with both hands, her eyes closed, like a sacrifice on a sacred altar. It was clear that for her, sex was purely an obligation.
The third thrust... sigh, each entry and exit took a long time. I lay panting on top of her, exhausted. My wife slowly opened her eyes, looking at me with encouraging eyes. I looked at her weakly, a silent understanding forming in my mind. My record for the most thrusts on her was 11, and most of the time, I ejaculated on the third.
Perhaps it was the alcohol today, but my penis was still stubbornly erect. It seemed I was about to break the record.
With difficulty, I pulled my penis halfway out. "We are underattack..." My phone rang.
My wife looked at the phone with expectant eyes. I didn't want to answer, but the phone kept ringing. "Should I answer it?"
I said to my wife.
She nodded, hugging her chest even tighter.
I pulled my penis out of the hot, tight hell, and my wife immediately pulled back her long, white, straight legs that were spread on either side of me. She rubbed her legs together, clearly in pain.
"Hello?"
"Hello, brother..."
my cousin said, her voice trembling with tears.
"Yihan? Where did you go?"
I asked anxiously, though my tone sounded angry.
She hung up. I called back urgently.
"Brother, are you in the bridal chamber?"
my cousin asked, her voice filled with anger and jealousy.
"We...where are you?"
I lowered my voice, not wanting to spoil the mood.
"You still remember me? Did I ruin your good time?"
my cousin said sarcastically.
I didn't know if she was referring to daytime or now. I glanced at my wife lying on the bed; she rolled over, and seeing I didn't move, sat up again.
"Stop being naughty, where are you?"
I asked.
"Okay, I won't be willful anymore, I'll never ruin your plans again,"
my cousin said, somewhat agitated.
"Don't do anything foolish, where are you?"
I shouted, equally agitated.
"I'm on the roof of the Kaiyue Building,"
she said, and then hung up.
The rooftop! Was she trying to commit suicide? I was momentarily at a loss for what to do, but my wife quickly got dressed and urged me to get dressed as well. She put on her usual brown work pants, a white collared short-sleeved shirt, and a black suit jacket. When I went out, she had already driven the car and was waiting for me.
"Wife, I'm sorry,"
I said, sitting like a limp rag in the passenger seat.
“You did nothing wrong! She! She should be more mature!”
My wife stared intently ahead, taking a few deep breaths. She fidgeted with the steering wheel and swiped her foot on the accelerator, causing our car to lurch forward every few seconds. I could tell she was angry and agitated.
“I’ll drive,”
I said, patting her shoulder on the seatbelt.
“Take it off. You can’t drive after drinking.”
She waved my hand away.
“Honey, I’m so sorry, I… I promise it won’t happen again.”
I leaned forward.
My wife seemed to hate me. She covered her nose. “How many times have I promised? I, Yao Jingting, really owe your family! Get out of the way, your mouth stinks.”
She shoved my forehead, and with a thud, I hit the opposite car window.
“Oh, honey, are you alright?”
My wife helped me onto her right shoulder. Her shoulder wasn’t as slender as a typical Eastern woman’s; it was soft and comfortable against her. She held the steering wheel with her right hand and rubbed my forehead with her left.
"Screech..."
A Land Rover suddenly darted out from the right-hand side road ahead. My wife slammed on the brakes and swerved, but they couldn't avoid it.
A tan-skinned man got out of the other car and started banging on our window, cursing all the way. "Damn it, can't he drive?"
My wife rolled down the window and glared at the man. He immediately shut up, but when he saw me leaning on my wife's shoulder, he gave a lewd smile. Did this guy think I was my wife's lover?
My wife ignored him, helped me sit up, and got out of the car.
As soon as we got out, the man's lewd smile vanished. He looked up at my tall wife without saying a word. Only after my wife had circled both cars did the two men start arguing. Their argument made me feel like all the alcohol I'd drunk during the day was coming back to haunt me. I got out of the car and ran to the side of the road to vomit.
When I came back and checked the damage, I saw that they had bent our bumper, while the Land Rover only had a small dent.
"I was in the straight lane, you were coming from the side road, and you hit me and you still think you're right? Why are you driving so fast?"
My wife was furious all day and had nowhere to vent her anger.
"Ma'am, you can't drive after drinking,"
the man said aggrievedly.
"Who's 'ma'am'!"
The man was nearly forty, while my wife had just turned 25.
"Miss, you can't drive after drinking,"
the man changed his tune.
"Who's 'Miss'!"
My wife was a respectable person and hated the word "Miss."
"Beautiful lady, beautiful lady, okay?"
the man said helplessly. "Driving after drinking is illegal, you'll be detained."
"I didn't drink, my husband did,"
my wife said, pointing at me.
"Secretary, Secretary!"
the man said, bowing towards the car.
I looked at the license plate; it was a small one. I said to my wife, "Why don't we just leave? It's a government car, we can't afford to mess with it."
"Hmph, the emperor is subject to the same laws as the common people, I don't believe in that logic," my
wife said, hands on her hips, glaring at the man.
Another short, stout man, over fifty years old, got out of the Land Rover. He was wearing sunglasses. The man helped him out of the car, his legs unsteady, and he seemed very tired after just a few steps.
He stood before his wife, his beer belly protruding, barely reaching her navel. Ever since the crash, this short, stout old man had been spying on his wife through sunglasses, making no attempt to hide it even as he stood before her.
“Secretary, look…”
the driver said, bending down to the old man.
“Hey…”
the old man waved his hand.
“Oh, Mr. Zhang, Mr. Zhang, look at this…”
the driver said.
“You wrecked our car like this, no matter who you are, you can’t escape!”
the wife continued, hands on her hips, looking down at the old man with a bold air.
“Good, heroine! How much?”
the old man asked, giving his wife a thumbs-up and adjusting his glasses as if to see her more clearly.
“One thousand!”
Our car isn’t worth much; repairing the bumper would only cost a few hundred. But today, the wife was a little angry, though she had anticipated the other party might try to haggle.
The old man took off his sunglasses, revealing a pair of small, triangular eyes and a mole on his temple. He circled his wife, his gaze sweeping from her long legs to her flowing hair, as if trying to memorize every curve. He circled her once, then once in the opposite direction, swallowing hard as he did so, finally returning to her. His triangular eyes leered at her ample breasts, as if he could see right through her clothes. She covered her chest with her hands, which had been on her hips, and glared at the old man with some annoyance.
"Worth it!"
The old man swallowed, put his sunglasses back on, and gave a thumbs-up.
Damn it, what did he mean by worth a thousand? Standing to the side, I was furious at his single word. I clenched my fists, glanced at the other car's license plate, and sighed. The government was untouchable; anyway, it wouldn't hurt for my wife to be stared at.
"Worth it! But we didn't bring any cash, we paid by card. Could you come with me to get the money, beautiful lady?"
the old man continued, still giving a thumbs-up.
Get the money? “Honey, my cousin…”
I leaned closer to my wife to remind her; a life-or-death matter awaited me.
“I can’t wait. My husband has an emergency,”
my wife said.
“Oh, young man, you can take my car to run the business, and I’ll take yours to get the money.”
The old man, wearing sunglasses, glanced at the driver, who nodded knowingly and gave a lewd smile.
“No, we have to go together.”
I couldn’t stay silent any longer; I didn’t know what the old man was up to.
“Is that so? Sigh!”
The old man sighed helplessly, then said, “Miss, could you leave your phone number? I’ll give you the money.”
“Phone number?”
My wife was about to speak; she was the vice-president of the Taekwondo club in college, and fighting was nothing to her; these two men were nothing to her, so she had no suspicion whatsoever.
“No, no. Give me your phone number.”
I immediately covered my wife’s mouth; in my opinion, this old man was far more terrifying than he appeared.
“How can that be? Our Mr. Zhang’s phone number is confidential,”
the driver said.
"What secret? You're so long-winded!"
My wife stomped her foot in anger. I pulled her back, holding her hand with one hand and supporting her waist with the other, and helped her back to the car.
"Honey, it's not worth getting angry over this little bit of money. Let it go,"
I said to her from beside the car.
"You! You're always worried about that girl. Let's go, let's go..."
My wife put her hands on her crossed legs and buried her head in her knees. She thought I was worried about my cousin Anwei.
"Forget it, forget about the money. Just be more careful next time,"
I warned them, getting back into the car. My wife was fixing her hair, her eyes clearly wet.
The old man watched our car drive away, shaking his head and saying, "What secret? I can discuss it with you!"
Chapter 2
I dragged my wife to the rooftop of the Kaiyue Building, memories flashing through my mind like a movie.
My cousin's first time: "Brother, Yihan will only love you for the rest of her life."
My foolish roommate took my cousin shopping: "Buy the red one, my brother likes it. I didn't ask you to buy it for me, it's up to you."
My foolish roommate confessed: "Stop chasing me, my heart belongs to someone else!"
I talked to her about the law: "I don't know anything about consanguineous marriage, I don't want to hear it! I, I only know I love you."
I talked to her about the future: "Don't talk to me about tomorrow! Having you today is enough!"
When the truth came out: "Brother, I don't care what others say, I only care what you think."
Seeing me on a date with Yao Jingting: "You're leaving..." My brother stays away.
After learning about my relationship with Yao Jingting: "Brother, in what way am I inferior to her?" Do you think your height is suitable? Is it appropriate for you to treat me like this? "
Kicked out of the house by my aunt: "Don't say sorry to me, I just want to be together!" For you, I can give up everything. "
He started to harm himself: "Brother, you are everything to me! I can't live without you! "
Agreed to be the bridesmaid: "Brother, I wish you happiness. "
On the night of the wedding: "Okay, I won't be willful anymore. I will never ruin your good deeds again. "
Could this lovely girl who has been with me for 7 years really disappear from the world tonight? I didn't dare to think too much, so I pulled my wife and rushed to the roof.
"There! "
My wife saw it before me. On one side of the roof, there was a dark figure sitting on the iron railing.
"Yi Han! "
I shouted loudly.
"Brother, you are finally here! "
My cousin seemed very happy and wanted to step over the iron railing.
But he saw the shadow behind me and took it back. "Why are you here too? "
Well, your brother drank today and can't drive." "
My wife is actually very worried about her cousin, but she doesn't want to coax her like me.
"Drunk? Hmph, why didn't you drink with him? I ruined your fun, and now you still hate me, don't you? The wedding was unforgettable, wasn't it? You scoundrel!"
my cousin said sarcastically.
My wife lowered her head, remaining silent.
"Weren't you always so strong? Why aren't you saying anything now?" My
cousin choked up, as if she had been crying for a long time.
"So many men pursued you, but you rejected them all, choosing to steal my brother. And now you treat him well? You treat him like a puppet, is that love? Bah! A slut like you, ridden by thousands, doesn't understand what love is."
"You don't know how to cherish him, so give him back to me? He might be one of your followers, but he's my everything! Do you know how much I've suffered, how much I've endured, how many suitors I've rejected for you, brother?"
This wasn't the first time she'd said this, but it still sounded incredibly difficult.
"Yihan, come back first. We can talk things out. There's no need to give up on your life,"
I worriedly urged her, trying to slowly approach her.
"Don't come any closer, brother! If we can't be together, what's the point of living? Let me use the rest of my life to commemorate your love. My disappearance, this superfluous person, is the best blessing for your wedding!"
My cousin took a step forward, her foot already dangling in the air.
"No! Yihan!"
my wife shouted.
Startled by the shout, my cousin almost slipped and fell. She immediately grabbed the railing, making me break out in a cold sweat and speechless.
She gripped the railing with one hand and picked something up from beside her feet with the other, throwing it towards us.
"Get out! You shameless whore who seduces other women's men, how dare you show your face to me? You disgust me even before you die!"
My cousin continued cursing.
"Yihan, don't say that. Your sister-in-law was worried about you, that's why she drove here. She wanted to come herself," I said.
"Are you afraid I won't die, so you came to hasten my death? Sister-in-law? How can this vixen be called my sister-in-law! I, Wang Yihan, only have brothers, not sisters-in-law! If you're so capable, go be my sister-in-law down there!"
My cousin said, about to jump.
"Slap!"
My wife slapped me across the face, and I stumbled back a few steps.
"Look at you, so useless, you dare to do it but not admit it! Coward!"
My wife slapped me again.
I covered my face, took two steps back, lost my balance, and fell to the ground. I looked up at my wife, wondering why she was acting like this all of a sudden.
"You're just a lump of mud, trying to cheat on me, you don't deserve either of them!"
My wife kicked me again, this time in the chest, and I was in so much pain that I couldn't speak.
"Yao Jingting, what did you do to my brother!"
My cousin turned around and shouted, her heart aching.
"Look at you, you coward! Who have you been good to all these years?"
My wife didn't answer my cousin, but kicked me again as I lay on the ground.
"Because of your selfishness, you've hurt two women, do you know that? Answer me!"
My wife raised her hand and slapped
me again. "You bitch! Stop it!"
My cousin cried out, running back from the railing.
My wife immediately grabbed my cousin. Only then did I realize her scheme. At this point, persuasion was less effective than a self-inflicted injury. She was truly a math major; even in this life-or-death situation, she remained so calm.
"You! Let go."
My cousin realized she'd been tricked and struggled desperately, but how could her petite frame be a match for my tall wife?
"Yihan, I... I also deeply love your brother. I understand how you feel. If I give him to you, I..."
My wife gripped my cousin's arm tightly, her usually efficient manner now stammering.
“I would be like you are now, so…”
“Stop talking, I know!”
My cousin forcefully broke free from my wife’s hand, squatted down, and reached out to caress my face, which had been slapped.
“Wang Yihan, we’ve known each other for a long time. You know what kind of person I am, Yao Jingting. If you were to take your own life, I wouldn’t carry the guilt I feel towards you while enjoying happiness. What you can’t have is always the best. To prove I’m better than you, I would definitely go with you, leaving your brother alone in the world. So, to prevent your brother from suffering, let’s not take our own lives, okay?”
My wife paused, then continued, “Well, it’s a bit cold in here. Let’s go downstairs first. I have a suggestion. If… Anyway, let’s go downstairs first.”
I held onto my cousin tightly, as if my wife had beaten me badly. My cousin gently supported me, while my wife followed alone behind. The three of us went down the building together.
Knowing my cousin hadn't eaten all day, we found her favorite Chinese restaurant. As soon as the dishes were served, my wife launched into her speech: "Wang Yihan, can I not be your sister-in-law? Can we just be best friends?"
"Best friends? Humph! Aren't we best friends now? You even got my brother and me married. Thank you!"
My cousin, starving all day, stubbornly refused to touch the table full of food. She playfully fiddled with her chopsticks, not glancing at my wife since coming down from the building.
My wife had used this same trick on her last time when she made her a bridesmaid. How could she possibly appease her again? "Last time, I was wrong. Making you a bridesmaid was too much. I never considered your feelings. You did the right thing today; this is the punishment I deserve. But Yihan, perhaps—I mean perhaps—I think we…"
My wife took a sip of tea, "…can truly enter the hall of marriage."
"Truly enter the hall of marriage?"
My cousin and I exclaimed in unison, neither of us quite understanding. Who was "who"? "Yes, I... we two women share one husband!"
My wife looked around and said decisively. She seemed relieved afterward, and seeing our surprised expressions, she added, "I was just diagnosed with infertility, and I'm afraid I'll never have children."
I knew this perfectly well. During the premarital checkup, the doctor asked me why my sexual activity was so vigorous, causing damage to her uterus and decreased organ function. Considering my wife's capacity, the "infertility" explanation was rather mild; the doctor told me she was infertile for life! But I'm innocent! With my quick ejaculation, how could I have been so vigorous?! "But I really love children. Your and Jingchen's (my name, Bai Jingchen) child would be adorable. I think I can be your and your brother's protector and shield. Nominally, I'll marry him, but in reality, I'll share you. It's a win-win situation. We'll live as a family of three from now on... um... it doesn't matter who's the wife and who's the concubine."
She leaned back, deliberately appearing relaxed.
"This..."
My cousin and I were stunned by my wife's words.
"Sister, are you serious?"
My cousin put down her chopsticks and leaned closer to my wife. This was the second time she'd looked at my wife properly today; the first time was after she'd spilled red wine all over her.
"Yes,"
my wife looked at me and nodded.
"Ah? I'm suddenly hungry."
My cousin didn't answer, picking up her chopsticks and digging into the food on the table.
The atmosphere gradually eased. My cousin openly flirted with me, putting food on my plate and even urging me to drink a toast with her. My wife, sitting in her chair, seemed quite uncomfortable, fidgeting and adjusting her posture. Her hands would sometimes cover her chest, sometimes grip the armrests. She often couldn't get a word in edgewise, only able to smile at us. After dinner, we all agreed to my wife's suggestion.
My wife drove, and my cousin insisted on pulling me to sit in the back seat.
I looked at my wife with a pleading gaze. "Isn't this inappropriate?"
"It's fine!"
My wife maintained a forced smile and pushed me into the back seat.
Fueled by alcohol, my cousin kept hugging and kissing me the whole way, even pulling my hand towards her chest. I wasn't fully sober, so I let her do as she pleased. My
wife, the only one who hadn't been drinking, drove, taking deep breaths and coughing violently. Her hands roamed nervously over her forehead and chest, and she pulled a large piece of her shirt out from under her coat.
When she saw my cousin and me kissing in the rearview mirror, she honked the horn and then slammed on the gas.
My wife drove at high speed, and we quickly got home. She picked up a cushion and sat silently in the living room watching TV.
My cousin, however, wanted me to show her our bridal chamber.
While my cousin was taking a shower, I slipped into the living room. My wife was clutching the cushion tightly, and the TV wasn't showing anything interesting.
"Are you alright?"
I walked up to her and put my hand on her shoulder.
She suddenly grabbed my right hand and bit down hard on the back of it, as if she wanted to tear my flesh off.
After biting for about ten seconds, she licked the back of my hand with her smooth tongue.
"It's okay now."
She threw a cushion at me, took a deep breath, and stuck out her cute little tongue at me.
"Brother, how are we sleeping tonight?"
My cousin came out of the bathroom.
"You and your brother sleep in the master bedroom, I'll sleep in the guest room."
My wife answered quickly.
"Is this... appropriate?"
I looked at my wife in confusion.
"This isn't very good, it's your wedding day, you should consummate your marriage."
My cousin was quite sensible this time.
"It's okay, I'm not going to consummate our marriage with him. I hate him the most."
My wife looked at me with resentful eyes, and this was indeed her truth. Every time we had intercourse, she said it hurt terribly, and she didn't feel anything else, but she had to endure the pain so that I could be comfortable.
My wife, usually so assertive, is surprisingly tolerant when it comes to sex. While she has complete control over where and how I can be touched, she still reserves the right for me to initiate intercourse. She says it's a wife's duty, and even if she dislikes it, she'll still offer herself to satisfy my desires.
That's her perspective, but in reality, my powerful penis feels like it's in a cage when it enters her vagina. Her tight, airtight vagina makes it feel like I'm about to ejaculate as soon as I'm inside. I can only move it a fraction of an inch by holding my breath and using all my strength. It exhausts me in no time. How much pleasure can I possibly get? In other women's sex, the woman is the one in control, but in our case, it's the opposite. My penis feels like it's in a police station, subjected to the intense interrogation of her vaginal walls, and I quickly give in and confess.
Actually, each time I enter with great enthusiasm only to be disappointed by premature ejaculation, I feel discouraged and disappointed. But seeing her struggling to endure it, I can only pretend to be very satisfied each time.
She wasn't my only woman, so it wasn't that I was inadequate, but rather that she was too tight. I always reassured myself that it would get better after a few more times.
But my wife seemed increasingly averse to sex. Her tall figure often blocked my desire to force myself on her, and our sex life definitely became less frequent.
Without sex, could our love remain? "Today is also a joyous day for you two, my dear sister, you are also a bride. You should consummate your marriage,"
my wife said, pushing my cousin into the bedroom, as if relieved.
"Are you sick?"
After my cousin went into the bedroom, I touched my wife's forehead from outside the door. "No fever."
"Come on, I'm perfectly fine."
My wife slapped my hand away. "Yihan's emotions are still unstable, we have to be patient with her these next few days."
I nodded. "That makes sense, but it'll be hard on you."
My wife pouted, glanced at the master bedroom, and secretly lightly touched my forehead. "Honey, I love you..."
Her charming eyes stared at me, still glistening with tears. "I'm going to sleep, goodnight."
After saying that, she ran to the guest room. It's hard to imagine that this womanly behavior is the same person who slapped me three times on the top floor of the building last night.
My wife wasn't my only woman; the other woman was, of course, my cousin. At 162cm, she was easy for me to handle. Her pretty face was full of youthful energy, a few strands of her loose hair falling over her alluring collarbone. Her soft breasts, like two bowls, were firm and close to a D-cup, making her slender figure appear even fuller. Her slightly thin arms bore the scars from the cuts she'd made last week when she threatened us. Her soft legs could be in many positions, and her vulva protruded slightly outwards, sparse soft hair covering the area, glistening with dewdrops. The internal structure was exquisite; the vulva was the perfect size, and the vaginal canal was short, allowing easy access to the clitoris. It's said that women with short vaginal canals are promiscuous—I don't know for sure, but because it was short, it couldn't hold back her juices. After only a dozen thrusts, her vulva was already overflowing with juices. I turned my cousin over, changing the position from man on top to doggy style, and continued thrusting.
When I grabbed her arm, she cried out in pain. I had touched a scar on her arm. I slowly buried my head in my cousin's fair, bare back, tenderly kissing the scar, while my erection quickened. The
mountain weighing on my heart was finally pushed away; at that moment, everything felt clear... Perhaps because I had climaxed too many times with my cousin, I woke up in the middle of the night needing to urinate. We, whose careers were just starting out, had only bought a small apartment, and the master bedroom didn't have a toilet. I had to get dressed and go to the bathroom. My cousin was sleeping peacefully beside me. My wife and I were overjoyed; it had actually helped her find a home.
I left the bedroom and faintly heard a woman's low moans, "Mmm... mmm..."
The moans rhythmically faded, and I could tell the woman was trying to suppress them.
I didn't turn on the light, but by the moonlight, I looked at the clock on the wall. "It's three in the morning. Who's still doing this?"
I muttered to myself as I went into the bathroom. Only after I finished did I realize that the low moans were coming from my guest room.
I quietly approached the guest room door, cautiously leaning against the wall. Though the sound was soft, it was still audible if you listened carefully. "Mmm...mmm...no, no, Uncle, mmm...let me go...ah...Uncle, please...ah, be gentle..."
It was indeed my wife moaning, the sound of her body hitting the bed masking the noise. My mind was a mess. Had she cheated on me? Wasn't my wife averse to sex? But what was with those alluring moans? Uncle?
Was that a relative or a respectful term? What old man dared to break into the bride's room on their wedding night and do the groom's thing?
Let me go? Was my wife being forced or just putting on an act? How could her tall, confident self utter such a humble plea? That last "be gentle" was especially enchanting, a pure and refined beauty imbued with my wife's unique intellectual charm, a desperate yet yielding feeling, lust overcoming reason. With just one sound, my penis, which had already ejaculated six times, was erect again.
How could my usually serious and somewhat frigid wife utter such alluring moans? I must still be drunk and dreaming. Even so, I still curiously pushed the door open a crack.
Peering into the room by the moonlight, I saw my wife lying on her back on the bed, her eyes closed, brows furrowed, chin slightly raised, her delicate face tilted at a negative angle—an expression usually reserved for actresses in Japanese adult films. I never imagined I'd see it on my wife's face. Her neat teeth were tightly biting her lower lip, and each tremor of her body produced a muffled "hmm."
Sometimes, her teeth wouldn't hold, and her full lips would suddenly open to their limit, letting out a pitiful "Ah!" Her hands were pinned under the pillows on either side; I didn't know what my partner had done to her, but she couldn't shyly cover her breasts with her hands like she did when we made love. He seemed to be thrusting very hard; each penetration made her proud forehead slam against the headboard with a "thump, thump." With each vigorous movement, her full-cup bra slid back and forth on her chest, creating waves as the rhythm quickened.
Something's not right! My wife wasn't wearing a bra at all. I rubbed my eyes. I was familiar with her wearing a bra, but now her two freed breasts were large and round, spreading out evenly in all directions, like an oval at the bottom and a cone at the top, resembling two insurmountable mountain peaks. I had never seen her without a bra before, and I couldn't help but look at them a few more times.
Just looking at those breasts, their size was somewhat frightening. The seemingly soft spheres had swollen to enormous size, like two enraged wild beasts, making me feel uneasy. But on my tall wife, they looked naturally form-fitting. This was the maximum size that breasts could be described as "full." Any bigger would seem abnormal, and any smaller wouldn't be impressive. If the positive term "full" had an upper limit, then my wife's breasts were its upper limit.
Breasts, when calm, possess a slightly domineering, all-encompassing grandeur. But once their owner is aroused, that domineering aura transforms into a luscious, alluring beauty, rippling with each movement, as if begging to be violated.
My wife possesses such a pair of enormous, wanton breasts, so incongruous with her upright demeanor; no wonder she doesn't let me see them.
But who has the power to make her willingly remove her mask, shed her disguise, and reveal her most shameful, wanton breasts? My heart leaped into my throat, and I pushed the door open a little wider.

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