Make my wife even more seductive

For the past two weeks, my wife has basically been naked, spending her time in the midst of my and my son's caresses. At first, she resisted, but the itch of sex eventually overwhelmed her last shred of fragile shame, and the pursuit of physical climax made her restless.

Every morning after waking up, my wife drinks large amounts of milk and eats a lot of fish, meat, and eggs, sometimes even swallowing raw eggs to replenish the large amount of semen she consumes daily. She also makes sure to provide us both with extra nutrition. My last "telemarketing call" (actually telecom fraud) earnings are enough to keep the three of us in a super-high hormone state for a long time, so we don't have to worry about making a living.

My son and wife have adapted to this exciting life and are becoming increasingly addicted. My son's stamina and explosiveness are stronger than mine, and certainly much stronger than his lover's, so my wife has now completely forgotten about that old man. Every morning, the first thing my son does is have his beautiful and sexy mother suck out the semen he's accumulated overnight. My son is on summer vacation, and he's learned to sleep naked. At home, my son and I are basically naked, except for my wife, who always wears something—but it's always sexy: rope-like panties, thin black ropes wrapped around her plump little waist, then across her buttocks, with a transparent loincloth covering her private parts. A pair of fishnet stockings extends from her delicate, creamy heels to her waist, the large mesh tightly emphasizing the flesh on her thighs, making one want to rape her. A barely-there, transparent bodycon skirt tightly hugs her large buttocks, making them appear even more alluring, with black panties adding to the sensuality. Heavy white foundation, blood-red lips, blue eyeshadow, and shimmering eye makeup—fierce yet vulgar—the standard attire of a streetwalker. I want my wife to become the lowest of the low, even if it means becoming a prostitute, a lowly hairdresser.

And now, the training for my wife to become a hairdresser has only just begun. The first thing the son did upon waking

was to lie flat on the sofa, freely displaying his erect penis to the whole family. Then, like calling for a slave, he would call out his mother's name. The clatter of high heels would begin, and a strong, cheap perfume would waft through the air. "

Sir, would you like a massage? We offer oral sex, masturbation, and vaginal intercourse, no condoms, okay? I'm only eighteen. Full service is 800, single service is 200." The

wife skillfully introduced these lines to her son. "These are the lines I designed, and I require my wife to memorize them so she can use them when engaging in prostitution.

" "Thirty-eight? You call yourself eighteen? You already have wrinkles on your face. You're thirty-eight, right? At this age, you're still so expensive," the son said, sounding like a seasoned pro, and immediately stretched his feet between his wife's legs.

"Brother, I really am eighteen. You can check my ID if you don't believe me. I'm a student from a prestigious university. I haven't been doing this for long, so please give me some face," the wife said sweetly, while grabbing her son's large penis with both hands and starting to rub it. "Brother, let your little sister serve you today. I'm good in bed, and I never rush you, okay?"

The wife's eyes, adorned with blue contact lenses and fluttering false eyelashes, held a gaze that no man could resist.

"Give me a blowjob, or you won't get paid," the son said disdainfully, looking at his mother. "

Okay, boss, no problem. If you're good, come often, and I'll give you a 20% discount."

"Stop talking nonsense, hurry up, I won't need you anymore once your dick goes soft."

The wife grabbed her son's penis. Young men's penises are always pleasing to the eye, like jade, crystal clear, untouched by any pollution, the skin without a trace of melanin, tender and pink, a true jade pillar, veins swollen, thick yet delicate, without the wear and tear of long service, full of stamina, a mature woman's favorite.

The wife was no longer ashamed of her son's disobedience, breaking free from the shackles of traditional ideas, extremely satisfied with her son's body; this was her masterpiece, the masterpiece of her life.

"While our son doesn't have a girlfriend yet, enjoy him while you can. Once he finds a wife, if you lay a finger on her, she'll fight you to the death."

The wife shook her head back and forth, rubbing her red lips against her son's urethra. This was standard foreplay for oral sex; unscrupulous prostitutes would skip this step and go straight to deep throat. Oral sex without foreplay is like a castrated pig, utterly tasteless. I demanded that my wife be thorough in her work, covering every aspect.

"It's my own son, I can eat him whenever I want, try and take it from me," my wife said nonchalantly, continuing to rub her "treasure."

"Haha, you slut, can't let go now? Aren't you grateful I found you such a good stick?"

"What do you mean you found it? I gave birth to him, okay? He came from my own vagina, what does it have to do with you?" my wife said with disdain.

"Can you two stop arguing? Mom, don't you have any professional ethics? Focus on yourself!" my son snapped.

"Okay, okay, son, don't be angry, I'll make it for you right away," my wife comforted him. My wife took off her black, sheer blouse, revealing her snow-white breasts. Her two hemispheres were prominently displayed before our son. Li Li (I forgot what name I used for the female lead; Li Li was the name of my former female manager, a flirtatious forty-year-old woman—a tribute to forgotten love, please don't mind the inconsistency) straddled our son, pulling up her skirt to reveal her large buttocks and tightly wrapped vulva. Our

son kicked my wife off the sofa with great force, completely disregarding my little Li's feelings.

My wife clutched her lower abdomen, her brows furrowed in pain, her features contorted.

"Fuck your mother's big cunt! I told you to give me a blowjob, who told you to sit on me? Are you in such a hurry to sell your cheap cunt? I'll do the work for two hundred, do it for two hundred. If you want to make more money off me, then listen to me! Huh?!"

Sister Li spat out a mouthful of saliva in pain, her eyes filled with tears.

The son sat up, grabbed Sister Li's long, flowing hair, and thrust his penis into her cherry-like mouth. Then he forcefully pressed his mother's head against his lower abdomen. I reckon his penis was already inside his mother's throat.

My wife made gurgling sounds in her throat, clearly unable to hold back. My wife slapped her son's sexy, muscular buttocks with her hand, signaling him to take his penis out quickly, but the son mischievously pressed his mother's head down hard, not giving her a chance to breathe. He seemed to be enjoying it very much.

"Are you going to suffocate your mother? Then we won't have anything to play with anymore," I joked.

"So what if you're going to die of pent-up desire? There are plenty of sluts like that out there," my son panted.

"Hurry up, I'm still here after you're done." I pointed to my already erect penis.

"You can play with Sister Wen when she gets here later. This bitch is mine now," my son said, still not letting up on his grip.

(Sorry, I forgot to mention, Sister Wen, the adulterer's wife, has also been taken by me. My son and I have already had sex with her many times.)

"Wen Jie isn't as pretty and sexy as your mom, hurry up, don't be so clueless," I urged.

My son finally let go of my penis, and that was it. Before my wife, Lily, could even pull her mouth off his penis, she vomited violently. Milky white liquid mixed with thick yellow gastric juice sprayed out, covering my son's penis. The white was milk, the yellow was coarse cornmeal porridge. I only allow her to eat these two things; promiscuous women are prone to weight gain, and I only allow her to be a little plump, but not excessively so, not to become overweight.

My wife continued to vomit, retching large amounts of her breakfast, making gurgling sounds. Her fair face was flushed red, and thick vomit dripped from her mouth and nostrils, forming a large puddle underneath.

"Disgusting, what a spoilsport this morning," my son said with a look of disgust. He got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower, while I watched with amusement as my wife continued to vomit. As the head of this household, looking at the vomit on the floor, I suddenly had an idea to torment my wife.

I pulled out a sexy dog collar from the closet—it was a collar with a chain attached, a chain I had modified myself; it was a real iron chain, sturdy and wouldn't break.

I put the collar on my wife, who was still vomiting, tears and snot streaming down her face, not even having time to look at me. After my wife finished vomiting, I looked at her affectionately and said,

"Eat everything you threw up."

Her eye makeup was ruined; black eyeshadow had run down her eyes, looking quite comical. I wiped it off for her, regaining my usual gentleness, and then said meaningfully,

"Actually, I love you very much, but I don't want to live like this anymore. I'm a telecom fraudster, and one day I'll be caught by the police. So, our family's source of income has changed. You're very beautiful, and we should make full use of this resource. You should contribute to this family."

"What contribution? I won't eat this stuff. You eat it yourself, you son of a bitch!" My wife reverted to her usual attitude towards me.

Hmph,

don't be ungrateful. Do you really want me to torture you? I glanced at the automatic sex machine in the corner. Then don't blame me for executing you.

You've done so many things to wrong me; you must pay for it. You know you have no family left in this world. If you disappear, no one will call the police. I'll tie you up, turn on the automatic sex machine, and take our son out for a few days. I bet you'll be enjoying yourself to death when we get back.

I threatened this psychologically fragile woman, using death as leverage, then trying to win her over with money.

"If you cooperate, we'll have a steady stream of income, enough for our son's future, enough for our retirement. Do you want me to live in constant fear for the rest of my life?" For

a woman, temptation always trumps threat, but threat is always necessary.

"But this is disgusting, I can't eat it," my wife said, softening her tone when she saw I was angry.

"You'll get used to it," I said, forcefully pressing her head down.

Li Li reluctantly lowered her head to the ground, carefully licking the vomit with her tongue, like a young girl just getting used to the taste of a penis.

That's when I needed to help.

I kicked her head, catching her off guard, her face buried in vomit. She groaned, her hair, face, and mouth covered in her own vomit. I wouldn't let her wipe it away. I forcefully pushed her down, grabbed her head, pried open her mouth, grabbed a handful of vomit, and shoved it into her mouth.

"You have to swallow it," I commanded.

Before this, I had set up a camera to record it all.

My son came out of the bathroom, saw everything, clapped and cheered, saying there was going to be a good show, but he still found it disgusting and refused to do it himself.

One handful, two handfuls, three handfuls, countless handfuls—

my wife ate and vomited, vomited and ate again. Resistance was useless. When she resisted, I slapped her face hard. I didn't care how delicate and beautiful her face was; if she disobeyed, she would be punished.

My wife's nose bled, but that didn't stop me from feeding her vomit. I said, "You have to eat until you stop vomiting." But that was easier said than done. In the end, my wife still vomited large amounts. I think I still need to train her day by day.

My wife, exhausted after vomiting, was completely limp. Her body had reached its limit, and she lay sprawled on the floor like a pile of excrement, groaning weakly. At that moment, I suppressed my rage, gently picked up my wife, covered in vomit, and took her to the bathroom. I turned on the tap, and warm water washed her body clean. I kissed her gently, as before; she still had a faint, pleasant fragrance. I placed her in a corner, letting her sit on a chair, the water rinsing her stomach. I inserted my penis into her vagina, thrusting and washing her as I did so. I didn't remove her clothes; her fishnet stockings were still wet on her body. I didn't care about her feelings; I wanted her to feel constantly wet and sticky. After

washing and having sex, a stream of semen flowed from her vagina. I threw her onto the bed, and she drifted off to sleep.

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Make my wife even more seductive

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