The wife's affair with her fitness coach has been confirmed.

Do all men with small penises feel inferior and pathetic? I feel like I'm practically the most pathetic man in the world. Married for over five years, my penis is so small that my wife has never had an orgasm with me, not even the most basic sexual satisfaction. So I don't even know how to react to my wife's alleged infidelity.
I haven't been here for a long time. Since my last post detailing my suspicions and deductions about my wife's infidelity, I've become increasingly afraid. Reading the comments, some comforted me, some offered advice, but almost everyone seemed to think that based on what I wrote, my wife was definitely cheating. Now I feel ridiculous. Reading those comments was heartbreaking; I found it incredibly hard to accept, constantly asking myself why no one thought my wife was just busy with work. Frustrated, I shut myself off. I stopped going on QQ, stopped visiting websites, tried to ignore everything, to become an ostrich burying its head in the sand. I told myself everything they said was false, just baseless speculation. I didn't want to accept reality, and I was afraid to accept it.
But one Saturday, my wife said she was going to the gym again. I secretly observed her and discovered that she was still wearing very sexy see-through lace underwear. I felt a pang of jealousy, but as always, I didn't dare say anything. But that day, I couldn't resist my curiosity. As soon as my wife left the house, I was like a man possessed, and I quietly followed her after her. Actually, I was hesitant about whether to back down. I had a premonition that I would see something I didn't want to see, but I didn't know what I could do if I did. My biggest hope was to see my wife actually go to the gym and come home on time. That way, I could convince myself that all my suspicions were just my own overthinking.
But reality didn't play along. My wife didn't head towards the gym at all. I followed her from a distance, feeling utterly hopeless, until she stopped in front of a hotel. My last hope was that it would be one of my wife's best friends. But instead, a very tall and strong man appeared. Because they were both wearing masks, and the man was wearing sunglasses, I couldn't be sure who he was, but I was almost 90% sure it was my wife's fitness instructor.
I was stunned. When my wife's infidelity went from suspicion to confirmed reality, anger, sadness, despair, and inferiority nearly destroyed me. I desperately wanted to rush in, grab those two adulterers, and punch them in the face. But then I thought of my wife's fitness trainer's strong physique, and I decided it was best not to humiliate myself. And when I thought of the trainer's physique, I suddenly imagined he must have a large, long, and powerful penis. Then I thought of my own small penis, barely 7-8cm erection, and a wave of inferiority washed over me. I remembered my wife's unsatisfied expression in bed, and her recent complaints and taunts. All of this left me standing there, frozen, unable to move. And in that moment of hesitation, my wife and the man had already entered the hotel and disappeared from my sight.
The bitterness in my heart was indescribable. The weather was still warm, but my heart felt frozen in an ice cave. I knew my wife's infidelity was almost certain. Her coldness towards me and frequent nights away from home had a clear explanation. But I remember clearly, I didn't hate my wife at all. The strongest feeling was fear. The scenario I feared most had come to pass. I felt that the day I lost my wife was not far away. It was hard to imagine what my wife would still think of her "young" husband after experiencing a man like the fitness instructor. I kept overthinking and even
forgot my own existence until I received a call from my wife. I realized that I had been standing there dumbfounded for over an hour. Every time my wife said she was going out, whether it was to the gym or to work overtime, I dreaded receiving her call at this time. Because no matter what the call was about, the result was almost always the same: "I won't be home tonight."
I quickly answered the phone, saying, "Honey, what's up?"
My wife's breathless voice came through the line: "Honey, I just got a call from work. I have to go there after my workout to sort something out. Don't wait for me tonight."
My mind was in turmoil. I instinctively asked, "Not coming home again? Are you okay? Why are you so out of breath?"
She replied, "I'm at the gym. Why do you always ask such silly questions? I just got off the rowing machine." My mind went even faster. I remembered that my wife always sounded like this when she called me while she was at the gym, although I knew she was usually actually working out. But I was certain this time it wasn't from the workout, and besides, there couldn't possibly be a rowing machine in a hotel.
My wife, panting, continued, "The problem seems pretty complicated. It'll definitely be very late, maybe all night. Anyway, don't wait for me."
My mind was a mess, and I could only mumble a reply, "Oh, okay."
I don't know if it was my imagination, but I thought I heard a man's voice on the phone, and my wife hurriedly said, "It's okay, I'm hanging up," and then she hung up hastily.
I don't know if it was just my imagination, but even though my wife's last words almost drowned out the man's voice, I still felt like the man's voice was saying something like, "Nice position, spread your legs a little wider." I know it's probably just my imagination, because normally if I heard that, I would definitely think it was the trainer instructing my wife on her movements. But at that moment, I knew my wife was in a hotel with another man. Maybe I subconsciously imagined the vague sounds I heard as those kinds of things.
I thought about my wife's heavy breathing on the phone; she was probably being fucked by the trainer. Does my wife often call me in situations like this, saying she won't be back? Could this be one of my wife's little surprises for the trainer? The thought of my wife's petite body being penetrated in some position by a strong, muscular man uncontrollably conjured up images in my mind. I remembered how much her figure had improved after months of working out—curvy, with defined abs and a much slimmer waist—a significant leap forward. The trainer was probably pressing her down on the bed, kneading her breasts or grabbing her waist with his large hands, then thrusting wildly into her. Or perhaps he was making her lie face down, grabbing her increasingly firm buttocks and pumping into her repeatedly. These images might arouse many people, and if the woman in the images were someone else's wife, I might get an erection too. But the woman in the images was my wife, and the more erotic the images in my mind, the more painful it became. I told myself not to let my imagination run wild; I was afraid I might do something drastic. A thought lingered in my mind: I couldn't lose my wife, even if she had cheated on me. I didn't know what to do. Last time we went to the hospital, the doctor practically gave me a death sentence. Even the surgery they touted wouldn't help much. He even instructed me on how to choose positions to increase her chances of getting pregnant. I deeply regret not getting my wife pregnant these past few years. If we had a child, maybe she wouldn't have cheated on me. Even if she did, she would eventually come back to the family.
I couldn't help but imagine what was happening in one of the hotel rooms. I thought that if the instructor wanted my wife to get pregnant, he probably wouldn't need to choose positions. I wondered if they used condoms; the thought made me nauseous. I also thought that I'd never made my wife make those heavy, rapid breathing sounds in bed. So I really couldn't blame her.
Later, it got completely dark, and the hotel lights came on. I searched for a long time, but I couldn't find my wife behind any window. In the end, I had to go home alone. That night, I experienced what it meant to be utterly heartbroken.
When my wife came home, I saw her looking as tired yet radiant as ever. I had no desire to expose her, and pretended to know nothing, pouring her water, cooking for her, and giving her a massage. I was terrified that if I showed any suspicion, she would simply give up and leave me to be with the coach. But I felt terrible inside. So terrible.
But this wasn't the end. For the next two months, I experienced this utter despair almost every few days. During that time, I could no longer deceive myself into believing that my wife was really just working overtime. I knew perfectly well that she had gone to her trainer again. I even tried what some netizens had suggested—to train myself to slowly experience the pleasure of being cuckolded. I tried to arouse myself when my wife went out for all-night "workouts," but each time it was as limp as a shrimp or a bean.
Until one day, my wife went to the gym on Thursday night and said she wouldn't be coming back. She disappeared for Friday and the entire weekend; I couldn't even get through to her on the phone. I realized I was getting used to my wife going out to see her trainer. Even ignoring me, I didn't start worrying about her safety until Sunday, and even then, I wasn't too worried.
My wife came back on Sunday night, but when I saw her, I was shocked. Overall, she was a complete mess from head to toe. The clothes she was wearing were different from what she wore when she left on Thursday. I was especially surprised; I didn't even know she had taken her high heels with her. Not only had she changed her clothes, but the ones she was wearing now looked sloppy, with several tears in them. The belt of her skirt was missing, and the waistband looked like it had been ripped in several places, with loose threads hanging down. Her thighs were bare, and there seemed to be marks from bumps and bruises. Her high heels were also badly worn. When my wife came in, I could see her eyes were red, as if she had been crying. I was completely stunned, wanting to know what had happened, but I had no idea how to ask her. My wife, like a child who had done something wrong, lowered her head and went straight into the bathroom without saying a word. As she passed me, I noticed her hair was messy. Although it was mostly tied back neatly, it looked like it hadn't been styled for days. And what really bothered me was the pungent, fishy smell of semen that I caught as she passed by.
I heard the sound of water from the bathroom, along with my wife's sobs. Of course, I knew who she'd gone to see and what she'd been doing, but I never expected her to return in such a miserable state. It was only then that I felt hatred for my wife's fitness trainer.
My wife came out of the bathroom and locked herself in her room. I wanted to check on her, but I felt my concern would backfire, and I believed that if I weren't impotent, she wouldn't have gone to someone else. I went into the bathroom and found my wife's clothes stuffed in the trash can. I secretly took them out and smelled them; they had a strong, pungent stench. I felt like a pervert. I no longer needed to find evidence of my wife's infidelity. Although I didn't actually have the kind of legally conclusive proof of her cheating, everything was already quite obvious. So I don't even know why I secretly took out her clothes to smell them. It was unpleasant; the pungent, masculine smell only filled me with anger, sadness, and heartache.
I also searched around but couldn't find my wife's underwear. I remembered she had taken several pairs with her, but she hadn't brought any back. And I'm now certain that my wife came back without underwear, because I haven't seen those pairs since. I don't know if she threw them away beforehand because there was too much glue on them, or if she lost them because she was playing too intensely.
I really want to know what happened those two days. I can still vaguely hear crying coming from the room, and I guess it must be a bad memory. I don't want to keep guessing, and I don't dare to. I even thought about calling the police, but my wife didn't seem to have that idea.
Later that night, I cooked dinner for my wife, and when she came out, I noticed several bruises on her neck and arms. My wife and I looked at each other in silence. I knew she didn't want to talk about it, and I didn't dare to ask. It seems that in the past few months, I've lost all my standing at home. My wife probably even felt that even if she came back like that, she didn't need to explain to me. But I'm more inclined to believe that my wife simply didn't want to relive the painful memories.
And in the following month or so, that is, the last two months or so, my life seems to have suddenly returned to normal. My wife seems to have suddenly become the same as before. She stopped going to the gym, started cooking for me, and started coming home on time again. Even this month, I've been able to touch my wife's body occasionally again, and she's not speaking to me as harshly anymore. However, after each encounter, I can hear her sighs, sensing her emptiness and unfulfilled desire.
But regardless, everything seems to have returned to normal during this period, except for what happened that weekend, which neither my wife nor I have mentioned. I don't even want to know what happened; I only know it must have been a bad memory. Later, I even found medication and a wash for gynecological inflammation in the bathroom. But my wife wasn't irreparably harmed, and she's back with me—what more could I ask for?
However, this period of peace was short-lived. Last Friday, I came home late and found my wife had gone to the gym again. That feeling of dread returned. Friday night, I couldn't sleep and started overthinking, hoping my wife was just going to the gym and not seeing that trainer again. That trainer had done such a terrible thing; I thought my wife wouldn't go back to him. But on Sunday afternoon, my wife went to the gym again and didn't come home all night. She didn't even call, only sending a text message saying she wouldn't be home that night. Adding to the fact that she secretly went to the gym again last Friday, I'm almost certain she went to see her trainer again.
I haven't slept for two days straight; it's so painful. I really want to know what exactly happened that weekend, why my wife was treated so badly, and why she forgave him?

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The wife's affair with her fitness coach has been confirmed.

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