My wife wears stockings and lets other men have sex with her.

My wife is a woman who values quality in sex, but I didn't notice it at first .
She likes wearing stockings and high heels. Usually, she just
wears pantyhose and regular high heels, but sometimes when she goes out, she'll change into sexy ones with stockings. I also like stockings, but I've never
satisfied my wife because I was afraid she'd laugh at me. But I was wrong; I gave my best enjoyment to other men.
My wife isn't a very promiscuous woman, but even the most honest woman has moments of infidelity. My wife used to have the desire but not the courage. She always
wanted to be a singer, so she resolutely took time out of her regular job to practice singing and became very familiar with music producers. I've met that man.
She enjoyed this lifestyle immensely, and neither of us had the courage to consider our future. We started playing various sex games. My wife was guiding the
mood, and then suddenly, she stepped in front of the large glass window.
She looked alright. At first, I would sometimes accompany her or pick her up from class, but later, as company affairs got busy, I stopped paying attention.
Then one day, my wife came home and told me that her music producer had found her a company where she could be a full-time singer. My wife was overjoyed and spent every day
grooming herself. She also told me that the music producer was very kind to her and gave her a lot of advice on clothing (including stockings).
One day, while traveling out of town, my wife and I were strolling down the street. She was wearing a short skirt and high-heeled sandals. Her light-colored blouse revealed a black bra.
My wife knew how important the sexy allure of stockings was to men she was attracted to, so I noticed she no longer just wore ordinary pantyhose. Once, I
saw her wearing long stockings that she had brought with her, and they looked very sexy. Just then, trouble struck. I had to go to another city to resolve a situation at a branch office. I was
a little , but there was nothing I could do. I spent two and a half months away from home, sometimes feeling anxious, sometimes worried. Meanwhile, a woman was wearing high heels wrapped around a man's waist.
Her singing career seemed to be going well. However, she never mentioned being a music producer again, which made me even more concerned; I always felt something was amiss.
Two and a half months later, I returned home, but I didn't tell my wife. As she had said before I left, she should have arrived two days late. When I got home,
the house tidy, with some clothes scattered on the bed. Nothing special; my wife must have been practicing singing or something, since she wasn't answering the phone. It was Saturday. My wife
often uses weekends to practice singing. She usually only gets to practice for an hour on weekdays, but on weekends there are no other singers, so she can practice all day. So, I went to
the .
Just as I was about to arrive, my wife texted me: "Honey, sorry, I was practicing and didn't hear you. I'm done practicing and about to go
home . I'll call you when I get home." I thought she was done, so I went straight there. Since I had to register at the entrance, I waited at the door, but
she didn't come out for a long time.
So I... After registering, I arrived at the top-floor recording studio. However, I noticed the iron gate was locked, meaning someone
was there recording and entry was prohibited. Still, I couldn't help but feel uneasy, so I slowly unlocked the gate, entered, and
went to the recording studio. I slowly pushed open a soundproof door, went through a short passage, and then pushed open a second soundproof door
. Before me was the mixing console.
I immediately noticed a woman's bag on the sofa; I wondered if it belonged to my wife. However, I immediately saw the recording booth. From
my vantage point, I could only see half of it. So I walked forward, my heart filled with a frenzied excitement, preparing to see what was inside.
A sliver of hope lingered in my heart, but I was quickly disappointed. I saw a second pair of stockings, this time two long stockings scattered on the music stand. The sheer
presence of those stockings exuded a lewd aura, filling the otherwise solemn recording booth with a pervasive erotic atmosphere. I gritted my teeth, determined to see the full extent of the recording booth as quickly as possible.
I was stunned. I saw the back of a man on the edge of the grand piano, his trousers dragging on the ground. His body was thrusting forward continuously
. A woman was clearly sitting on the piano keys in front of him. The piano was closed, silent, and even through the soundproof glass, I couldn't hear
a sound. However, I could see that the woman's legs were shimmering with pearlescent light—the kind of stockings I liked. She wore black pointed-toe stockings on her long legs; they were
very sexy and would attract attention if she went out. But she had never been with anyone (at least she...). (That's what she told me), but later she met a music producer,
wearing high-heeled sandals. The woman's legs were held high on either side of her waist by the man, her calves hanging down, swaying sexyly with the man's thrusts. The woman's
arms were wrapped around the man, but her face was covered by the man's body. I clung to my last shred of desire, wanting to have some fun, so I moved left and right, but I still
couldn't the woman's face. During this time, the man was going at it incredibly fast, and the woman often had to frantically struggle to hold onto the man's shoulders. The two of them were going at it very wildly, and I actually
started... Duan was getting a little impulsive. Suddenly, the man seemed to reach his climax; he lifted the woman up, and she was instantly suspended in mid-air. Then,
something happened that completely shattered my confidence: the woman clung tightly to the man, her body bobbing up and down with his vigorous thrusts. Her slender legs, clad in long, flesh-colored stockings...
The woman rested her head on the man's shoulder, her mouth wide open, her expression lasciviously as she spoke something. And that was unmistakably the face I both wanted to avoid but was
also aroused by—my wife.
My wife was lasciviously licking the man's ear... My husband was always having sex with her, and at the same time, he was caressing her beautiful legs in stockings. Those legs, which had never worn sexy
stockings for me before, were now being played with by someone else. My wife, who used to be so proper when we made love, and would thank me after each orgasm, was now
enjoying the pleasure of being played with by a man and willingly making lewd and provocative movements. She never wore stockings when she made love with me, but now, in the recording booth, there were two pairs of
glass. I was shocked to see a pair of flesh-colored stockings hanging on the microphone stand.
They were either worn by her or intended for a second time. The stockings she used for teasing during sex were inserted for the first time.
The recording studio she mentioned had now become their pleasure quarters. I don't know how many times they'd done it here, or whether my wife was
taken advantage of because she felt lonely while I was away on business, or if she was already aroused when I told her I was going away. I stood there,
unable to bear it any longer, and stepped forward, pulling open the soundproof door of the recording booth. Suddenly, lewd words flooded my ears: "Ah, so good, fuck me!" "Harder,
touch my stockings, I wore them for you!"
"Ah, make me feel good, make me feel good!" I only opened the door halfway before I didn't want to open it any further. I stood there, continuing to listen to my wife's small mouth...
The most lewd and erotic words shouted from the man, the continuous squelching sounds of their genitals colliding, the constant staring at the microphone hanging on the stand in front of me—
I knew it all perfectly well. My wife must have been getting happier and happier. So, at a street corner, by a clump of bushes, she deliberately put her legs up on the branches
, watching herself being ravaged. Her movements became noticeably faster; she moved up and down on the man with satisfaction, shouting. I saw
her stockings (the fabric was covered in semen, clearly not the first time today). My heart was pounding. I wanted to rush in and beat that man to a pulp,
and I also wanted my wife to make love to me so wantonly. But the humiliation and sexual urges I felt were so real, leaving me completely bewildered!
Since discovering my wife's infidelity, my life has undergone a complete transformation. Everything is no longer as innocent as before.
Although I was furious, there were still feelings between us, and this relationship wasn't so easily severed.
So, after a long period of conflict, we had to return to our daily lives. However, what had happened before had made our relationship abnormal. A lustful nature was constantly growing within
us . Finally, one day, we had a long talk,
fully opening up about the sexual topic we had always avoided. Although I was angry that my wife had betrayed me, I had indeed gained an unprecedented thrill, and she had the same. So,
we actually reached an agreement.
I think there will never be pure feelings between us again, only pure desire. We both fell into a life of self-destruction, enjoying
the actions of others, and I was satisfied with this abnormal sexual stimulation.
The more illicit her relationships with other men, the happier I became, each time ensuring she experienced another orgasm after her affair. We even went so far as to go
panty-less, wearing only flesh-colored pearlescent stockings. She walked down the street, nestled against me, her eyes seductively darting towards every man who looked at her.
Swoosh, predictably, her stockings had a huge hole. My wife, in front of the vast crowd, declared she wanted to buy another pair. So we went to a lingerie store,
clearly the kind that sells sexy lingerie. The store had all sorts of alluring items.

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My wife wears stockings and lets other men have sex with her.

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