A True Account of Marital Incest, Chapter 14 (Part 1)

A True Account of Marital Incest
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Chapter 1: My Wife's Ex-Boyfriend
I am not good at expressing my feelings, and I feel embarrassed about intimacy between husband and wife. Therefore, when outsiders are present, I always formally and strictly refuse her intimate gestures, making my wife think I don't love her
. I always felt that love should be in the heart. The "love" that is constantly on one's lips may not always be true love. Don't those smooth-talking playboys often say this word? But how many of them are sincere?
But my wife obviously doesn't see it that way.
When we were dating, perhaps because I didn't care enough about her, she wavered between me and another man, and even fell into that man's arms.
I've met this man before; he's my wife's colleague, in the same office, from Guangdong, thin, not very tall, wears small glasses, and has a rather large mouth. To be honest, he's not very good-looking.
I've also inquired indirectly; he's several years older than me. Maybe he has a bit of money, and being a local, he's pretty good at seduce girls. I heard he's already entangled with several naive young girls at my wife's company.
When my wife often says I don't care about her, she always brings up how that guy used egg whites and honey to make her apply a skin condition to her neck. But at the time, I was quite confident and didn't care too much. First, because we had already slept together (now I realize how naive I was), and second, because I didn't believe she would be so foolish as to fall for such a trick.
But my wife ultimately couldn't resist the temptation of sweet words. While I was away on a business trip for two months at an inopportune time, she slept with that man.
Describing those days as dark is not an exaggeration. I believe anyone who has experienced heartbreak or a lover's infidelity can understand.
Just a few things will make you understand how I felt at the time.
I had to take two sleeping pills every night to fall asleep
. Sometimes at work, I couldn't help but run to the bathroom to cry. Once, I cried so hard on the roof that I almost fell off.
I took a kitchen knife and went to that man's dormitory to find her. I cut a hole in the thin iron door
and waited for her under my wife's dormitory all night. It rained all night,
and I didn't have an umbrella. Although I was heartbroken, I didn't sit idly by and do nothing. I fought with that man with patience, care, and love, even though this wasn't my strong suit
. I wrote a diary and later gave it to my wife when I was about to finish it. Unfortunately, after discovering my wife had gone to that man again, I took back everything I had given her—shoes, clothes, even my diary—and threw it in the trash in front of her. Among them was a poignant poem: "
Today a woman came
, a warm-hearted, kind auntie. She
knew my recent situation
and gently comforted me.
I tried to appear indifferent , hoping she wouldn't be too sad or regretful
if she saw it. I liked hearing her say, 'You're a good girl,' but perhaps she doesn't know that I'm not a good boy. I'm not romantic , not gentle enough , and can't share a lover's sorrows. No woman would be happy with me, and you certainly wouldn't be either, even though in my heart I still think of you so passionately ." My wife's close friends almost unanimously sided with me, speaking the truth and acting as my advocates. But my wife always wavered between me and that man, secretly maintaining a relationship with him at the same time. I forgave her again and again, and she betrayed me again and again for this man, but in the end, we still ended up together. Honestly, when I finally agreed to forgive her the last time, I was determined to destroy her and exact revenge. But things didn't go as planned. Her kindness to me and the arrival of our son, thanks to her stubborn insistence, not only prevented me from abandoning her, but I even urged her to get a marriage certificate so that our son could have a proper legal status. After that, we never mentioned her past, afraid of hurting each other. For us, it was as if nothing had ever happened. Our sex life became mundane, but we never stopped having sex. Except for three short separations, we had sex almost every day when we were together. Some days (and still now), I only browsed cuckoldry articles online, fantasizing about my wife being fucked to death by other men, especially those with particularly thick and long penises, veins bulging, shiny black, thrusting in and out of my wife's wet and juicy vagina, scraping the tender flesh inside, which really made me lustful and hard as iron. I remember that the person I mentioned again was the one who took the initiative. It was a routine sex session. I thrust my entire penis into my wife's vagina, trembling with excitement at the question I was about to ask. My wife sensed my emotions and arched her body, responding eagerly, "Is it good?" I asked her breathlessly, thrusting quickly and violently. I didn't want to ask her that question while she was fully conscious, to avoid embarrassment and to prevent her from getting angry. "So good...so good...ah...oh...fuck me to death!" My wife was a little incoherent, her expression somewhat confused. "So good...right?...Is it better than him?" I clearly heard a "gulp" in my throat as I struggled to utter those words, while my thrusting speed noticeably increased. "It's better than him...ah..." My wife answered excitedly, without any hesitation or shame, so straightforward that it made my heart ache. Moreover, I felt her vaginal walls tighten and tremble. "Have you compared me to that wild man of yours many times already?...Fuck you to death, you slut..." I excitedly thrust into her twice with a vengeful heart. Damn it, I haven't even mentioned who it is, and she's already thinking of him. Her pussy is reacting so strongly; she probably thinks it's someone else's dick inside her. My wife didn't notice my change and moaned lasciviously, "So good... Husband, you're the best now... Fuck me to death... Mmm... Fuck me faster..." " Whose dick is bigger?" "Yours..." "Who fucks you better?" "Yours is better..." "Isn't his fucking better?" I put my wife's legs on my shoulders and thrust my dick in three times, all the way to the hilt in her overflowing vagina. I thrust back and forth, splashing water everywhere and making moaning sounds. My wife opened her mouth wide and said intermittently, "Not good... Ah... Good... Good... I'm dying..." "He fucked you this good too?" I pulled my penis out of her warm vagina again, then thrust it back in like a pile driver. My wife let out a comfortable "Oh," moaning, "He didn't fuck me well, not at all... Husband, you fuck me well... Husband... I can't live without you... Ah..." She tried to lift her head and reach out her arms to hug me, but I didn't let go of her legs. Finally, she cried out helplessly, her hands squeezing her two plump white breasts tightly together. "He didn't fuck me well, and you still let him fuck you so many times? Ah, you slut, are you that horny?" "I'm bewitched... Husband... I'll never let another man fuck me again... I'll only ever want you... Ah... Husband... My cunt... Ah... is yours alone... So good..."

"Your cunt's been fucked to pieces by other dicks, and you still say it's only for me?" I slammed my hips up and down wildly, a perverse pleasure coursing through me. Every smooth thrust was so pleasurable, so exhilarating. "So, your husband... can only have his rotten cunt used by him? Hmm... fuck... fuck you to death, you rotten cunt." I was panting heavily.
"..." My wife's legs were pressed against her chest, her buttocks raised high, her body in a U-shape. Under my rapid thrusts, she was already out of breath: "Oh... my... cunt... was fucked to pieces...
fucked to pieces... ah... fucked to death..."
I was running out of steam, my mind blank as if I were lacking oxygen. I hadn't done much exercise in the past two years, and my body was not what it used to be. It had been at least forty-five minutes since I entered her, and this kind of intense piston-like movement was too exhausting. I parted
her legs, then covered her warm, soft flesh with my entire body. Like before when I was tired during sex, my wife hugged my back tightly, drawing her legs together. With her perfect coordination, the thrusting of my hips didn't falter, only each penetration wasn't as thorough or fierce as before.
I liked to use this traditional missionary
position . Except for the hip movements, my whole body remained relaxed and at rest. Although my wife might suspect me of being lazy or just going through the motions, she also really liked this method.
My wife slowly recovered from the previous frenzy and began to feel sorry for me: "Honey...take a break...take a break before we go again..." She writhed around me like a snake aroused by lust.
I was indeed a little tired, so I lay still on top of her. My wife immediately wrapped her legs around my buttocks like an octopus, her arms tightly wrapped around me, as if afraid that my penis would leave her vagina. Her vaginal cavity pulsated, sometimes tight and sometimes loose, biting my penis.
I rubbed my cheek against her earlobe: "Have you two fucked a hundred times?" I was surprised that I had become so open-minded and generous. I remember the first time I found out that she had spent the night at that person's place, I went to his door with a kitchen knife in my pocket. Now, aside from my voice being slightly distorted with excitement, I harbored no resentment towards anyone.
"Ugh, annoying..." My wife slapped my butt and started wriggling.
"Did you?" My butt started moving.
"No..." My wife hugged me tighter.
"Then how many times?"
"..." My wife seemed to hesitate.
"Wife, just tell me, I won't be angry." As she spoke, she increased the speed of her thrusts.
"Four...five times...ah..." Under the pressure of my penis, my wife got into the mood again.
"Definitely more than five times, you better tell me the truth! You slut, I'll fuck you to death!" Hearing her say it herself, I was both excited and a little angry, and I thrust into her hard.
"Really...not more than five times...ah...so good...fuck me faster...husband..."
"I don't believe you." I stopped moving: "If you don't tell the truth, I'm not doing it anymore."
"Really, husband, just five times... Please, hurry up and fuck me... Husband... I can't take it anymore." The wife gritted her teeth, her body burning hot.
"Was it your own choice, or did he force you?" Of course, I knew she had entered his home and slept with him, but I still hoped to hear a different answer from her.
"..."
"You did it your own choice... wasn't it?"
"..."
"Isn't it?" I pulled my penis away from her vaginal opening, then stopped.
"Yes..." She quickly grabbed my buttocks with both hands
. Before she could finish speaking, I suddenly thrust in. "You filthy bitch, you actually spread your cunt and let someone fuck you! I'm going to fuck you to death today... fuck, I'm going to fuck your filthy cunt raw... Do you still dare to let other men fuck you? Huh?" I thrust wildly.
"I won't dare, husband... I'll never dare... let other men fuck me again... You're fucking me almost to death by yourself... It feels so good... ahh... Your cunt is all fucked raw." My wife arched her body, her head moving constantly.
I couldn't hold back anymore, a strong wave of pleasure was already... An unstoppable surge of desire rushed to my mind. I held her swaying head firmly in my hands, slamming my hips against her with all my might,
once, twice, three times, finally plunging deep inside her. "I'm going to cum... cum... ah... ah..." I shuddered, my mind going blank again, losing consciousness. Once, twice, three times, with each powerful thrust of my penis, streams of semen erupted like volcanoes, sizzling against the walls of her vagina.
My wife's mouth was open but she couldn't make a sound, only swallowing repeatedly, gurgling sounds coming from her throat. The
intense orgasm lasted for nearly a minute before I collapsed weakly onto my wife, panting. My wife clung to me like an octopus, moaning "Husband, husband" all the while frantically licking my face.
Every time the game ended, I wanted to lie down and rest as soon as possible, but my wife never wanted to let me go so quickly. Not only did she not allow me to pull out of her vagina immediately, she forced me to climb on top of her and hug her, and she would talk to me for a while
before she was done. After her orgasm subsided, I lifted my buttocks and pulled my penis out of her wet and slippery hole. My wife reluctantly released my hands and feet, allowing me to roll over and lie flat on the bed. My wet penis, surprisingly, remained erect,
a rare occurrence. It usually happened after ejaculation when I was particularly energetic, but today was clearly an exception.
My wife also seemed quite tired; instead of getting up to wipe the mess as usual, she lay there languidly, her high breasts rising and falling with her gradually calming breaths. Her face was flushed like a peach blossom
. A few unintentional glances exchanged; the uninhibited and carefree nature of our lovemaking had made us both feel somewhat embarrassed and awkward. My wife didn't pester me to talk as usual, turning her back to me.
Without the direct pressure of face-to-face contact, we were both immersed in the afterglow of our intense passion. In the past, I didn't want to bring up this topic, not entirely because I was magnanimous, but because as the one who had been hurt, I could draw a sense of guilt from the depths of my wife's heart. If I didn't bring it up, my wife would certainly not reveal her shortcomings. I took the initiative to break this taboo today, and unexpectedly, it not only did not create any psychological barriers for either of us, but it also rekindled the passion in our otherwise bland sex life.
We haven't made love so passionately and enjoyed it for so long
. Looking at my wife's side-lying, curvaceous, smooth waist, my heart was filled with love. I rolled over and embraced my wife. She looked up slightly, and my left arm slipped under her neck to grasp one of her large breasts.
What had to be faced had to be faced. I turned her face towards me: "Is it comfortable?"
My wife closed her eyes shyly: "Comfortable..."
I kissed her lips. She struggled a few times but then accepted, passionately sucking on my saliva and tongue
. She finally managed to break free, her alluring eyes filled with tenderness as she blinked at me: "Honey, I feel so good. How about you?"
"Me too." I gently stroked her, saying, "...Tell me how he did it, okay?"
"What's there to say..." My wife shyly buried her head in my chest, "It's all the same, what's there to say?"
"Tell me, it's okay." I encouraged her, "It's been so long, I've long since let it go."
"You've really come to terms with it? You don't hate me at all anymore?" My wife asked, tilting her head up.
"Really, I've come to terms with it. Just think of it as my bicycle being stolen by a thief, ridden around, and then found again!" I said with a laugh, teasingly.
"You're the broken bicycle..." my wife playfully poked my waist, retorting.
The atmosphere lightened, and we slowly started talking about her and that man.
I asked her if he enjoyed it, how he did it, who was on top, and if she had ever taken his penis. Once she let loose, she had no reservations and answered whatever I asked. We never mentioned the man's name, but we both understood.
She said his penis was very big and long, like a donkey's, and he always went in very deep, never fully inside. She said it wasn't as comfortable as with me because he hurt her a little. There was only one position: he was on top. He lasted a long time, sometimes all night. She had touched his penis but never taken it. He only ejaculated inside her vagina, unlike me, who ejaculated everywhere.
We were both very excited during the questioning. I had my wife turn over so her back was facing me, and then I inserted myself into her vagina again. I asked her again if his big penis was better or my small penis was better. She said the big one had its advantages, for example, she liked me to hold her after an orgasm and then penetrate her from behind to sleep. Because mine is relatively short, it doesn't have a very good firmness after use. It can barely be inserted and will slip out after a little movement. His wouldn't; it wouldn't fall out all night, and it wouldn't go soft.
She said they had only done it five or six times in total, not the hundreds I had imagined.
Listening to my wife talk about her lover's magnificence, imagining that thick, black cock going in and out of her willingly open vagina without restraint, jealousy and lust alternated, burning my penis hard and swollen. I desperately thrust into her vagina to release my pent-up desire.
Finally, my wife reached her third orgasm under my frenzied manipulation, and I also ejaculated profusely. After we finished, exhausted, my wife said tenderly, "I still like yours. It's not too big or too small, just right for me. It made me feel so good!"
I started to believe my wife's words.
About half a month later, during a conversation while she was on top, I became skeptical.
She was holding my neck and straddling my lap, her buttocks rising and falling, swallowing and spitting out, and when she fell down, she would tightly grip my penis and rub it back and forth a couple of times. She exhaled and said, "It's too deep, my pussy is numb, it feels so good!"
I squeezed her two full breasts hard and asked her, "Is it better if it's deep or shallow?"
She said, "Deep is better."
I asked her, "Did he penetrate deeper or did I penetrate deeper?"
My wife truthfully answered that he penetrated deeper. I slapped her buttocks, full of jealousy: "Then why did you say he wasn't enjoying it? You slut, are you trying to embarrass your husband?"
My wife, as if her secret had been exposed, shyly pressed her two mounds of breasts against my face and rubbed them hard: "He penetrated too deep, all I know is pain, how can it feel good?"
I grabbed her buttocks with both hands and pressed her hard against my penis: "Didn't you tell him not to penetrate too deep?"
"He likes it, what can I do?" My wife swayed her ample hips, her lower body a muddy mess. "You little slut, risking your life for your lover?! I think you're just asking for it, you need a good fuck! Aren't you?" I lifted my buttocks and thrust hard into her.
My wife wasn't prepared, her body was lifted up, and with a "pop," my penis left her vagina. As it fell, it didn't align with the opening to go back in; it slid behind her buttocks.
My wife cried out, "Ouch!" She reached down and grabbed my slippery penis, aligned it with her opening, and
with a "plop," she sat down again: "Trying to run away... I haven't had enough yet..."
"Not satisfied yet? Then go find your big-dicked lover! You shameless cunt..." I thrust into her hard, cursing her with a hint of jealousy and a hidden expectation.
"I want yours, yours is the best for me." My wife ignored me, moving wildly, grinding against my genitals until they ached.
I stopped talking, squeezing her buttocks with both hands, pulling in and out forcefully.
Once the taboo was broken, we often talked about this man during sex, each time making us excited and crazy, hard and stimulating, with our juices flying everywhere.
I asked her if she wanted to try the taste of a big dick again, and she said she wanted to. I said, "Then go find him and let him fuck you again." She said, "No, I won't do it with that man again." I said, "It's okay, we've done it so many times already, one more or one less won't make a big difference." She still firmly disagreed. I also promised I wouldn't despise her and would love her even more. She didn't agree, so
I don't know. If she really did agree, would I really do what I promised—draw her a bath, spray her with perfume, groom her pubic hair, help her dress in sexy lingerie and elegant business attire, and then see her out the door?
A man who hasn't been cuckolded probably will never understand this feeling. That mix of jealousy and excitement burns so intensely you can't breathe, your heart aches maddening you, yet your desire is burning fiercely.
Really, no matter the situation—for example, when we're arguing, being intimate, or talking about sex—as soon as my wife mentions that man's big penis, I instantly become erect and consumed by lust. My wife was initially surprised. When she needed it but I wasn't in the mood, she used it to stimulate me, and it always worked. Every time, I made her weak and beg for mercy before I stopped.
However, she firmly opposes having any further contact with that man. While slightly disappointed, I'm also quite relieved. If she really agreed, and they got back together, who can guarantee they wouldn't rekindle their old flame and crave more?
Besides, that man isn't married yet. I don't think any woman would turn a blind eye to that. Regardless of whether it's because of my own reasons
, my wife is more rational than me. She didn't take the risk because of greed. Our son is so adorable, and our family is so wonderful. Why would we want to destroy it?

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A True Account of Marital Incest, Chapter 14 (Part 1)

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