A Friend's Story 3

Last time I wrote two episodes in one go, and some readers thought it was my own story. My wife and I are both very meticulous people, and we haven't reached that point yet. The plot points are entirely based on my friend's account, though I've embellished some details. Enough rambling, let's continue.
After hearing his wife's words, Mr. A lost all interest in sex; his penis went limp, and drowsiness replaced any desire. He went back to the bedroom, climbed into bed, and didn't know how long he slept. In his drowsy state, Mr. A habitually rolled over to where his wife usually slept. Huh — why was it empty? The dim light from the living room (the kind from a computer screen) piqued Mr. A 's curiosity. He tiptoed to the bedroom door. His wife was chatting on QQ . Looking back at the fluorescent clock on the bedside table, the hands were already past midnight. Strange, although his wife had a habit of chatting on QQ , she had never stayed out past ten o'clock before. Could it be …?
Back in bed, he deliberately turned his back to the living room and lay on his side, saying in a sleepy voice, "Honey, I want to take a bath. Could you fill the bathtub for me?"
The sound of a power being switched off came from the living room, followed by footsteps that paused at the bedroom door before heading towards the bathroom. From the sound of running water, A heard the footsteps enter the bedroom. He quickly closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. His wife's distinctive scent grew stronger. A turned over, opened his eyes, and looked at his wife.
Mrs. A said softly, "Honey, I've been so busy lately. I'll make it up to you properly once I've finished dealing with everything."
A : "You've had a tough time these past few years, managing such a huge operation. Can't you let your subordinates share some of the burden?"
Mrs. A sighed, "Those mismatched 90s kids? Besides, there are some things I really don't trust to do myself."
Mr. A cupped his wife's slightly thinner face and gently kissed her forehead: "I just made my little beauty too tired."
Mrs. A then pressed her face against her husband's chest, saying with a hint of grievance, "Do you think I wanted this? Isn't it all for our future? If only we could live in a 140- square-meter house now."
Person A : "Come on, let me give you a massage."
The massage he described was actually a woman-on-top position, where the wife lay face down on top of Mr. A while her hands slowly roamed around her back. According to Mr. A , she loved it; it felt like a gentle breeze, the caress of soft waves, or the warmth of sunshine—in short, indescribably wonderful.
Mrs. A knew that each time her husband's hands had roamed over her back for a while, they would move to her buttocks and then from there to her pubic area. This time, the separation had been longer, and before her husband had finished roaming over her back, Mrs. A felt her "reservoir" begin to overflow, and she made sounds that excited men.
Just as Mr. A was frantically turning over and trying to get out of his wife's "illegal structure," Mrs. A yelled, "The bathtub is full!" Mr. A was both annoyed and amused. What was going on today? She always seemed to run into trouble at crucial moments. "Even if it's full, I won't let you off the hook!"
Mrs. A : "What do you want?"
Person A : "Let's wash together."
Mrs. A said seductively, "I want a hug."
Person A : "The living room curtains aren't drawn yet; it wouldn't look good if someone saw us."
Mrs. A said mischievously, "What are you afraid of? Haven't you ever seen a husband hugging his wife? Besides, it's late at night, who's going to look at you? Maybe they're all out there 'exploring the suffering of women' among the masses." When women go crazy, there's no way to stop them, Mr. A thought to himself, and picked up Mrs. A and headed for the bathroom.
Upon reaching the bathroom, Mr. A tossed his wife directly into the bathtub. With a "whoosh," water splashed everywhere. Mrs. A wiped the water from her face and said, "Are you crazy? She hasn't even taken her clothes off yet." "Then let's wash her clothes too," Mr. A said, slightly out of breath.
Mr. A quickly stripped off his clothes, and Mrs. A followed suit. Mr. A grabbed a bar of soap (his favorite weapon) and stepped into the bathtub. Mrs. A knew what he was about to do and stood up. Sure enough, Mr. A embraced his wife, the soap slowly tracing her back, intensifying the sensation from their previous encounter. Mrs. A closed her eyes, letting her husband do as he pleased. She felt the soap move between her legs, swaying back and forth. Mrs. A couldn't help but exclaim, "So comfortable."
A quickly fiddled with the soap, lathering his hands and then smearing a large amount on the grass. He then gently kneaded Mrs. A 's labia with his fingers. This move was fatal; Mrs. A let out a soft "Ah!" as she lost control of her bladder. Her body trembled as if she couldn't stand, and she tightly hugged Mr. A 's neck with both hands to maintain her standing position.
Before long, Mrs. A was completely defeated, as if she were sleepwalking. Seeing his wife like this, Mr. A 's little brother was already ready to fight. Mr. A quickly cleaned up his wife's work area and guided her hand to the handrail on the wall. Mrs. A gripped the handrail firmly and raised her buttocks. Mr. A attacked from behind and went straight for the heart of the matter. Inside, everything was turned upside down.
As Mr. A intensified his movements, Mrs. A gradually got into the swing of things, her hands almost unable to grip the handrail on the wall. Mr. A stopped, rushed out of the bathroom, drew the curtains in the living room, went back to the bathroom, used a towel to clean his wife's body, picked her up, and ran to the bedroom.

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