My wife, a nurse who loves working night shifts, is living a fulfilling life.

I'm a junior manager at a company, just past thirty. It's a low-paying, unambitious department, so my life is pretty simple. But I can't let that make me depressed; life goes on.
My wife, on the other hand, is working hard to supplement our income. Recently, she found a job as a nurse at a private hospital. In her spare time, she also uses her skills to perform ultrasound examinations for patients, earning extra income. Seeing her so happy every day, feeling she can contribute to the family, is honestly a comfort to me. After all, both of us have jobs, and the income will be higher, which will make things easier for our daughter.
Adults, huh? That's just how it is. After all, being content with what you have is key, right? Haven't you seen so many people ruined by endless desires, even losing their families? Thinking about this makes me a little self-deprecating. Is this the true meaning of "sour grapes"?
I checked the time; it was almost time to leave work. After saying goodbye to my colleagues, most had already left. A few younger people came over to call me, suggesting we go out for drinks, but I declined. My blood pressure has been a bit high lately, and besides, I still had to cook for my daughter.
I figured I should pack up and head home. As I reached the office gate, I noticed snowflakes starting to fall from the overcast sky. I instinctively turned up my collar, feeling I should wear a down jacket; I couldn't compete with those 20-something guys.
If I remembered correctly, today should be the Beginning of Winter, right? Ah, I remembered; it was on the news this morning. My memory is getting worse these days, all because of lack of exercise and being in poor health. Perhaps this is a common problem? It seems like overnight, high cholesterol, high blood pressure, and diabetes are everywhere.
Why think about these useless things? I shook my head unconsciously and gave a wry smile. I'll go buy groceries then. Isn't the Beginning of Winter an important solar term? In ancient times, the emperor would hold a ceremony to worship it, but that has nothing to do with me, does it?
Before I knew it, I arrived at the vegetable market. Since it was after work, everyone was gathered there, the crowd shoulder to shoulder. I spotted a few attractive young women and glanced at them. They seemed either mistresses or relatives of corrupt officials. Why would they need to wear makeup to buy vegetables? Why wear stockings in this cold weather? Were they all too used to being neglected at home, so they came out to sell their bodies? Come to think of it, if they were all respectable women, where would we find stockings and beautiful legs?
Wait a minute, it seems like all the vegetable stalls had held a meeting. Why are all the price tags showing the new prices? Prices are rising, everything is rising—cucumbers, eggplants, bitter melons, pork, fruit—it seems the prices rise the more southerly the produce. Damn it, it's all due to inflation. I wonder where those big shots who wear suits and ties all day, their faces glowing from saunas, have taken to regulating the macro and micro levels. Probably not far from Java!
There was no other way; even if it was expensive, we had to buy it. After all, we still needed to solve the problem of food and clothing, which was the top priority right now. I bought two pounds of lean meat, two pounds of green beans, three pounds of tomatoes, and some eggs. After paying, I walked home with my hands full, muttering to myself on the way. The eggs were too expensive, almost a yuan each, and the tomatoes were almost a yuan each too. It seemed that from now on, when it came to vegetables, I would have to buy rice by the grain, just like in the Republic of China era.
As I approached the neighborhood, I ran into a few familiar neighbors and chatted for a bit. Of course, the conversation revolved around the rising vegetable prices caused by inflation, since everyone was carrying a few kinds of plants and animals to fill their stomachs.
I went upstairs, panting, took off my shoes, went inside, drank a cup of hot water, and started cooking. Since my wife rarely comes home for dinner, and she's been working a lot of night shifts lately, she hardly ever comes home to sleep, so the task of cooking naturally fell to me. Thinking about my wife's frequent night shifts, I can't help but think of those classic erotic stories about doctors and nurses that I often read on the SZS forum. Damn, these stories make it seem like bosses and secretaries, doctors and nurses, would be doing the world a disservice if they didn't have some dirty dealings. Damn, could my wife be one of them? It's like I've unknowingly been given a green hat (a metaphor for
being cuckolded). Even if it provides shade in summer, I doubt many people would accept it. Thinking about this sends a chill down my spine. Could things be really that bad? It used to be just a legend, but now there are green hats everywhere. Will one of them suddenly fall from the sky and land on my head? Sigh, it's all because of this corrupt society. If you have a red apricot tree in your yard that hasn't yet climbed over the wall, soon those bored, lecherous men will climb over the wall and drag you out alive. You can't guard against it!
Even worse, under the boss's tyranny, you're blatantly threatened: you have to come, whether you like it or not, or you'll be fired. What kind of world is this? Some kind-hearted, devoted women are forced to submit. It's all because of this shameless, money-driven social atmosphere. Then again, even if money isn't everything, it can buy food. At that point, without coercion or bribery, women would willingly offer themselves for food. Lost in
thought, the meal was almost ready. Time to pick up the kids from the teacher's house. Damn it, these days teachers are finding all sorts of ways to exploit students and parents to generate revenue. They're practically demanding family trees from students at the start of the school year to determine if your ancestors were high-ranking officials and how much you're worth now, so they can exploit you to the fullest extent.
Then, they immediately give each student a map to the teacher's house, precisely guiding parents to grit their teeth and rush to give gifts. Because the appointment of class officers and the order of seating are directly proportional to the amount of gifts parents give.
Take our children, for example. They eat lunch at the teacher's house every day and do their homework there in the evening—this is mandatory, of course, not for free. The story of Yue Fei listening to lessons for free outside his teacher's window is a centuries-old legend. Now, if a teacher offered to tutor your child for free, we'd be on edge, thinking we'd done something wrong, and quickly give them something to appease our anxious hearts.
It's a twenty-minute walk to pick up the kids, then another twenty-minute walk home. Damn it, for the teacher's own selfish gain, both adults and children are exhausted.
On the way home, my child told me something that struck me like a thunderbolt: a boy and a girl in their class kissed. I know that girl; she's the same age as my daughter, but only eight!
How could this happen...? It's all the TV's fault! All they watch when they have free time is "Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf" or some idol drama, with kissing scenes popping up all the time. No wonder kids are imitating them. Everyone says kids are quick to accept things, but it depends on what they accept!
Kissing doesn't need to be something they've already mastered. How many Tang poems have you even learned?
Even in "Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf," they call each other "husband" and "wife" all the time, right?
And Red Wolf is practically a carbon copy of a savage girlfriend. This kind of behavior is constantly influencing our nation's young flowers. One day, won't our great motherland suddenly be filled with the sound of Master Hu's iron woks, like a spring breeze?
The streets will be full of poor men carrying heavy bags on their heads. Will the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television and the Propaganda Department be able to take responsibility then?
As parents, we have to explain things to our daughters, to prevent this from happening to our children!
I racked my brains, wanting to give a lecture citing classical texts, but history has never shown such progress as our Celestial Empire to criticize. So, I told my child, "You probably saw it wrong. They're young and don't understand. Maybe their lips accidentally touched. It's not what you think. You mustn't follow their example; it's not a good thing."
My daughter nodded, seemingly understanding. My heart pounded; I wondered how much of an effect this nonsense would have. I couldn't help but sigh at the rapid decline of morality in the world today.
It's said that there are firecrackers every night at our high school. Of course, setting off firecrackers in the dark isn't for warding off ghosts or keeping warm; it's because male and female students are celebrating their virginity. Are these future pillars of the nation squandering their precious youth like this? The price is too high, using the blood of virgins as a bargaining chip? What are the chances of them ending up together? Even if they do, what does that prove? What
are you doing? To call this morally reprehensible is an understatement. If Confucius were alive, he'd probably vomit his entrails and die with his eyes wide open in disbelief.
Sigh, how long can we see our children? We're lucky if we see them until middle school. We'll worry about the future. If they're aiming for film school or something, then forget about virginity. Being a parent is tough.
After getting home, having dinner with the kids, and putting them to bed, I idly turned on the TV. Damn, the same drama is being shown on countless local channels. Damn, why did I even pay for cable TV? But what's the point of watching anything without cable?
I noticed my wife's lace panties hanging on the balcony. She'd taken them off a few days ago after we were intimate, washed them, and hung them there. I couldn't help but think that it had been several days since we'd had sex. Although we're past the point of having sex every day, it still gets on my mind after a while. While I was lost in thought, I heard a clicking sound from the lock. In the quiet night, that's quite noticeable. Besides my wife having a key, no one else could have opened the door. Had I encountered the legendary master thief?
Just then, my wife opened the door and came in, smiling brightly at me, "Daughter's asleep." Damn, the tragedy of men—my status at home is always after the children. I looked at my wife in her nurse's uniform, her sexy buttocks accentuated by her tight pants and leather boots, and swallowed hard. "You've been sleeping all day, why are you back?" I asked. "There weren't many patients tonight, I came back to check on the kids, I'll be gone in a bit," she replied. She paused
, then added, "And you too." She took off her boots and went into the bedroom. Then I heard soft kissing sounds coming from inside. Ah,
motherly love! A little while later, my wife sat down next to me on the sofa, beaming. "Honey, did you miss me?" she said sweetly. "What do you think?" I replied. She pulled me close and kissed me haphazardly on the face and lips. After a series of loud kisses, I suddenly felt a cool sensation on my penis. My wife had taken it in her hand and was playing with it. It seemed I wasn't the only one burning with desire.
As her small hand continued to work on my penis, I felt the heat in my lower abdomen increasing, and my penis began to stir, the tip of my penis involuntarily glistening with moisture. I gently said to my wife, "Lick my genitals." She gave me a reproachful look and gestured for me to lie down on the sofa. As I lay down, she pulled down my underwear, and then her small mouth, painted with lipstick, intimately touched my penis. I immediately shuddered with pleasure and tightly embraced her head.
She slowly licked around the head of my penis for a while, then put half of it in her mouth, sucking on it like an ice pop. I slowly began to adjust to the stimulation from her oral sex, and relaxed, freeing one hand to caress her breasts. I noticed that her breasts, after countless times of my rough handling and the trauma of breastfeeding, weren't as firm as they were when we were first dating, but their softness still felt special in my hands. With her oral sex and my caresses, I felt my penis getting hard.
I quickly told my wife to stop. To distract her, and to reciprocate, I wanted to give her a little something in return. After all, sex requires coordination between two people to reach orgasm together. My wife shyly took off all her clothes and slowly lay down on the sofa. I immediately pressed her down and gave her a wet kiss. This is one of my favorite foreplays because the exchange of tongues and saliva quickly closes the distance between two people, giving a feeling of complete acceptance and fusion. My wife mischievously started biting my tongue again. It hurt so much that I just trembled, but I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't even speak, so I could only pinch her with my hand. My wife stopped biting my tongue when I pinched her. She looked at me with a mischievous smile.
Then she pressed my head against her breast. To be honest, my wife's breasts are my favorite. Her breasts aren't big, but they are exceptionally white, which is probably one of the reasons I like them. Without thinking twice, I took my wife's breast in my mouth and started sucking on it frantically like a milker. My wife frowned and hit me, telling me to be gentle.
I restrained myself slightly and began sucking and licking one breast while touching the other with my hand. I then used my free hand to reach my wife's private parts, stroking her mons pubis. When I felt her vulva becoming warm and wet, I quickly abandoned my assault on her breasts and began licking her vulva – something my wife and I both thoroughly enjoyed.
I gently parted her already aroused and steaming vulva with my hands, looking at her once pink labia, now somewhat dark red after countless visits from my penis, and couldn't help but lament the ravages and cruelty of time. I began to gently lick it with my tongue, clearly feeling my wife's body tense and straighten, her hands gripping my hair tightly.
I thought to myself, "This is just the beginning. I'll get you hooked in no time." After a few slow licks, I took my wife's entire labia majora into my mouth and started sucking and swallowing. My wife's buttocks were already slightly raised. I then started licking her vaginal opening up and down with my tongue. My wife's buttocks were raised higher and higher, and she was already moaning softly. The hand gripping my hair was getting tighter and tighter.
I saw that the time was right, so I started to focus on my wife's sensitive areas, quickly licking her clitoris. This was hard work; I had to maintain a fast pace to achieve the desired effect. As I quickly licked and sucked my wife's clitoris, her buttocks were raised to their highest point, and her vagina was involuntarily gushing out a large amount of vaginal fluid, getting all over my mouth and face. At this moment, my wife shouted, "Okay, okay, hurry up and get on top!"
Seeing this, I immediately mounted her, and without any effort, guided by my wife, I thrust my impatient little brother into my wife's overflowing, vaginal fluid-filled vagina. With two soft moans of pleasure escaping my wife's lips, my penis plunged headlong into the depths of her vagina. The true joy of life was once again fully realized.
Thanks to her excellent lubrication, and the fact that I'd been holding back for days, I didn't hesitate to thrust relentlessly, as she had to go to work soon, making a prolonged battle difficult. So, without changing positions, I stood with one leg on the floor and the other kneeling on the sofa, my hips wrapped around her legs, and began to thrust violently. My wife responded with fiery passion, and we continued like this, until, after countless piston-like movements, I ejaculated deep inside her.
Afterward, panting, I lay on my wife's stomach, and she gently stroked my hair. We both wished we could stay there forever, as if time had stopped. But that wasn't realistic. After a while, my wife pushed me away, got off the sofa, and went to the bathroom to clean up. When she came out, I also went into the bathroom and quickly washed my penis. When I came out, my wife was already dressed. She had just come out of our bedroom after checking on the child. She hugged me, kissed my cheek, put on her boots, opened the door, and went to work. Since my wife's hospital was in the neighborhood, I didn't see her off.
After my wife left, I watched TV for a while, then got sleepy and went to bed, cuddling my daughter and drifting off to sleep.
I was vaguely awakened by my phone ringing. I saw the number; it was a very good friend. I couldn't ignore it; what if it was an emergency?
"Hey, it's so late, what's up?" "Can't you call if there's nothing wrong? We're drinking, come out now, I've sent a car to pick you up. If you don't come out, I'll have the driver honk the horn downstairs." Damn, aren't these guys crazy? Waiting for me to get up in the middle of the night to go drinking, and my wife isn't even home yet. Am I supposed to leave the kids alone at home? I angrily said, "No, no one's home." "I don't care, or I'll call the driver to honk the horn right now!" Are they animals? "Okay, I'll go, but I'll just check it out and come right back."
I hurriedly put on my clothes and went downstairs. Sure enough, my friend's car was waiting there. I got in the car, and soon we arrived at the hotel. A group of my usually good friends were there, making a scene, drinking and behaving themselves. When they saw me, they immediately started swarming around, one offering cigarettes, another pouring drinks.
I don't know how long we drank, but I got a little tipsy, so I said the kids were home alone and I had to go home immediately.
Finally, I managed to leave the dinner table. My friend's car pulled up to my apartment building. I instinctively reached for my keys—oh no! In my rush, I'd forgotten them. I had no choice but to let the driver go ahead while I went to my wife
's hospital to get them. Arriving at her hospital, I found the janitor already fast asleep at his desk. I didn't disturb him and walked inside. When I reached my wife's office, the door was ajar. I pushed it open, but no one was there. I was immediately puzzled. Where had my wife gone in the middle of the night? I'd better look for
her. Otherwise, I can't get in. I aimlessly searched for her in the hospital corridors. All the patients were asleep, making the empty corridors eerily quiet. At the end of the corridor, a slightly lit door to an operating room was ajar. A sudden realization dawned on me—my wife was busy in the operating room. Wait, why weren't there any family members outside? Could it be…?
I stumbled to the operating room door, slowly pushed it open, and peeked inside. I saw a light on in the room labeled "Doctor's Rest Room." Just as I was about to enter, a strange sound drew my attention. Listening closely, it sounded like two people making love. A sudden, inexplicable sense of foreboding washed over me. Could it be…?
Seeing the door wasn't fully closed, I dazedly moved closer to see what was going on. Suddenly, I felt something trip me. Looking down, I nearly vomited blood. It was my wife's boots by the door. Seeing them, my brain first throbbed, then went blank. I was pretty sure the woman in the couple inside was my wife.
But I wasn't giving up. I staggered and peeked through the crack in the door. Perhaps the couple was too engrossed in their lovemaking, or perhaps they didn't even realize anyone was coming, so they didn't notice my righteous peeping.
Slowly, my vision adjusted to the light inside, and I discovered a couple, their backs to the door, engaged in a passionate act of debauchery, woman on top of man. I recognized them all too well—their hair, their voices, their backs. The woman who should have been on me was now shamelessly enjoying herself on someone else's lap.
Damn it, I was so confused. What happened? Just a moment ago, she was my wife, the woman moaning beneath me, and now she's changed. She's broken my heart. Her moans were like knives stabbing at my heart; every movement seemed to squeeze my bleeding heart.
Watching my wife's pale body moving so wantonly and joyfully on another's, I was overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. Was this really the wife I loved so deeply? The mother of my child? I thought of our first love, our wedding, everything we had… My thoughts were jolted awake by a scream of climax. Damn it, was I just here to watch a show?
"Can't a man just swallow this insult? I have to get revenge! Kill that bastard!" But I didn't have a knife, so I grabbed a metal IV stand from a hospital and rushed forward, smashing it down on the bastard's head, who was still basking in the afterglow of his orgasm.
How could that bastard's head withstand my desperate blow? With a muffled groan from the bastard and a hysterical scream from my wife, blood splattered all over my face. Seeing this, I looked at my wife, frozen in shock, and burst into maniacal laughter.
Suddenly, I felt someone pushing me from behind. I turned around and saw it was my daughter. "Huh? That's strange," I thought, "why is my daughter here?" Just as I was wondering what was going on, my daughter started pinching me, yelling, "Daddy, it's already daylight! Aren't you getting up to cook for me?" She laughed strangely, scaring me half to death. Then
it dawned on me—it was just a nightmare. I couldn't help but smile bitterly. Is it really true that what you think about during the day manifests in your dreams at night?
[The End]

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My wife, a nurse who loves working night shifts, is living a fulfilling life.

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