That morning, I went out to work with my recently married wife. She was dressed particularly eye-catchingly today: a white short-sleeved top so tight it almost revealed the outline of the black bra underneath, paired with an extremely tight miniskirt that showed off her slender, well-proportioned legs and delicate ankles. The pointed high heels were specially picked by me; as she walked, her waist swayed gently, causing passersby to glance over from time to time.
I actually feel quite uncomfortable inside. I've told her several times before not to dress too revealingly when going out, but she always just laughs and says, 'Dressing up nicely and getting a few extra glances from others gives me confidence.' I can only let her be. Watching her like this, I feel a mix of pride and a vague unease.
After getting on the bus, the carriage was so crowded it was almost impossible to turn around. Coincidentally, I ran into my university classmate, A Chao. After graduation he had continued to work out, and his build was more solid than when he was a student, with clearly defined arm muscles, making him look energetic overall. I exchanged polite greetings and naturally introduced my wife beside me. A Chao's eyes lit up a little, and obvious envy appeared on his face. I felt pleased with myself: this guy must be thinking how I managed to marry such a beautiful wife.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, A-Chao and I fell silent. The carriage swayed, packed with people. My mind began to wander, thinking about my own matters. Work was busy, my health hadn't been great, and I often couldn't last long during intimacy with my wife. I always felt I was letting her down. A-Chao, with all that muscle, was probably much better at this than me... Thinking this, I felt somewhat deflated, completely unaware of the change in my wife beside me.
At first, my wife was just standing beside me, but then, without realizing it, she was pushed by the crowd toward A-Chao. Her eyes showed some panic, and she kept glancing my way. Fine sweat beaded on her forehead, and her body twisted slightly. I thought it was just because the train car was too hot.
Actually, Ah Chao's hand had already quietly come up.
First, under cover of the crowd, he used his left hand to touch the side of his wife’s plump chest, as if he meant it and as if he didn’t, his fingertips occasionally brushing past. Her body stiffened, and she immediately understood it wasn’t an accidental bump. A flash of irritation crossed her mind: this husband’s college classmate was far too bold. Yet on the other hand, looking at the glances from the men around them, she felt a faint sense of pride—her outfit today really was attractive.
Seeing she didn't push him away immediately, A Chao grew bolder. He leaned his head close to her ear, his exhaled breath brushing her earlobe. That was her sensitive spot, her body involuntarily trembled slightly. The corner of A Chao's mouth lifted slightly; he had made a judgment: this woman, dressed like this to go out, probably wasn't an easy one.
His other hand also moved over, and with both hands he gently pinched her breasts through the thin fabric. His wife wanted to push him away, but then felt a hard thing press up from behind. Its size and hardness were completely different from her husband’s. Her heart jumped violently, and her legs went weak for a moment.
"So big..." Only this thought remained in her mind.
A Chao's body was very firm, that thing pressed against the seam of her buttocks through his pants, rubbing against her with each sway of the bus. His wife's initial thought of resisting gradually faded under that unfamiliar pressure. She even subconsciously leaned back slightly, letting that hard object press closer against her.
A Chao let out a low chuckle, his voice just loud enough for her to hear: 'Like it? Then stop pretending.'
My wife didn't answer but subtly shifted her weight backward. Ah Chao took advantage, his hand reaching into her short-sleeved shirt, directly pulling aside her black bra, his rough palm covering her soft breast, his thumb brushing over the already slightly erect nipple. My wife bit her lower lip, afraid to make a sound. Pleasure like tiny electric currents shot from her chest all the way to her lower abdomen.
Lost in my own thoughts, I was completely unaware of what was happening beside me. The occasional soft gasps from my wife were mistaken by me for coughing.
A Chao's hand continued downward. He lifted her short skirt a bit from behind, slid his hand in from the slit of the hem, and pressed against her already wet private parts through the thin lace panties. His wife's body tensed sharply, but she didn't truly push him away. The panties were soon soaked through with her fluids, the fabric clinging to her slit, each press bringing clear stimulation.
A Chao whispered: 'It's already this wet... what's with the act of being proper?'
The wife's face flushed deeply, yet she couldn't help but gently twist her waist when his fingers brushed over her clitoris through the fabric. A-Chao stopped being polite, directly pushed her panties aside, and inserted two fingers into the slippery entrance. The inner walls instantly tightened, warm and snug. He bent his knuckles, slowly thrusting in and out, while his other hand pinched the swollen clitoris and gently rubbed it.
My wife bit her lip hard, her legs so weak she could barely stand. The pleasure built up too quickly; she felt she was about to climax. Ah Chao sensed her reaction and sped up the movement of his fingers. Suddenly, my wife's body trembled violently, her vagina contracting sharply, and a gush of warm fluid sprayed out, even splattering onto the pant leg of an elderly gentleman sitting nearby.
The old gentleman froze, turned his head, and just saw her exposed, moist private parts under her short skirt, and A-Chao's fingers still buried inside. He swallowed his saliva, eyes fixed on that spot. The wife's post-climax afterglow hadn't passed, her hole opening and closing, transparent fluid trickling down her thigh. Meeting the old man's gaze, she surprisingly didn't immediately cover up. Instead, she felt that gaze intensified the pleasure even more.
A Chao pulled out his fingers, whispering in her ear: 'Finished enjoying yourself? My turn.'
He unzipped his pants, pulled out his already fully erect thick and long cock, and pressed it against her wet entrance. His wife felt that searing hardness, and her breathing instantly went ragged. She secretly glanced back at me—I was still in a daze—then took the initiative and pushed her hips back a little.
A Chao held her waist, pushing in inch by inch. The size was much larger than her husband's, the process of entry feeling stretched and full. His wife almost cried out, only able to bury her face lower. The bus continued to sway, each jolt pushing that thing deeper inside. A Chao began small thrusts, deliberately scraping the sensitive spots on her inner walls with the head.
My wife completely gave up resisting. She cooperated by swaying her hips, making each entry smoother. Several men around had already noticed the unusual activity, casting ambiguous glances in this direction. My wife knew she was being watched, her lower half completely exposed as she took in another man's member. This sense of immorality only excited her more. Her fluids kept secreting, turning the area where they joined into a muddy mess.
A Chao's thrusting speed gradually increased. His wife felt him going deeper and deeper, almost reaching the very inside. She gripped the nearby handrail tightly, afraid she might collapse. Pleasure piled up again and again, finally erupting once more. When she climaxed, her inner walls contracted violently, making A Chao gasp lowly as well. Streams of heat shot deep inside, filling her completely.
A Chao didn't withdraw immediately. He deliberately lifted her short skirt all the way to her waist, letting her bare buttocks and lower body be completely exposed in the carriage. Semen mixed with her fluids trickled down her thighs, all the way to her ankles. The hands of several men around couldn't help but reach over; someone touched her buttocks, someone dipped their fingers in the fluid on her thighs. His wife wanted to cover up, but A Chao held her wrists.
“Let them see.” Chao whispered in her ear, “Don't you like being watched?”
The wife's body trembled, but she didn't truly struggle. Those unfamiliar hands roamed over her moist private parts; someone gently parted her legs, someone used their fingers to dab the spilled semen and press it against her entrance. While afraid I might discover her, she was also stimulated by this public play, becoming wet again. A-Chao even inserted two fingers into her back passage, slowly thrusting, filling her front and back simultaneously.
My wife's consciousness was almost blurred. She only knew she was standing on a crowded bus with her lower half exposed, filled by her university classmate's member, being groped everywhere by the hands of men around her, while her husband stood nearby, completely unaware. This extremely immoral scene made her climax repeatedly, the fluid between her legs accumulating more and more, even wetting her high heels.
As the train was about to arrive at the station, Ah Chao finally pulled out. Semen immediately gushed from her gaping hole, flowing down her thighs. His wife quickly pulled down her short skirt and clamped her legs together, but a careful observer could still see the wet, shiny traces around her ankles. Ah Chao nonchalantly straightened his clothes, nodded at me, and got off first.
Only then did I snap back to reality and turned to ask my wife, 'Why are you sweating so much? Is it too hot in the car?'
She kept her head down, her voice somewhat hoarse: "...Yeah, it's a bit hot."
I didn't think much, just reached out and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Completely unaware of the secret intimacy I had just missed.
Since then, my wife has dressed sexier when she goes out. Sometimes I would find it strange that after she came back, she would always spend a long time washing, and her private parts would occasionally be a little swollen and red. But I never connected those details with that day’s bus.
Until much later, after drinking one night, she became unusually proactive in bed. In the middle of it, she suddenly bit my ear and whispered, 'Actually... that day on the bus...'
At the time, I was completely stunned.
But she had already wrapped her legs tighter, and there was a kind of coquettishness in her eyes I had never seen before: “Do you want to hear it? Or… continue?”
I didn't answer immediately. My lower body, however, grew uncontrollably harder.
That night, we did it until very late. She told me everything that happened on the bus, bit by bit. From the initial panic, to the later active cooperation, to the excitement of being watched by the surrounding men. Every detail made me both jealous and hard.
After saying that, she looked into my eyes and asked softly, 'Do you blame me?'
I was silent for a long time, and in the end just flipped her over, entering from behind, my movements much rougher than usual.
“...Say it again.” I heard myself say.
She smiled, her voice soft as if coquettish, yet she described that day's scene in detail again. This time, I heard it with exceptional clarity.
Since then, our nights have had a new game. Sometimes she would deliberately dress especially revealingly when going out, and after coming back, she would tell me in detail how men on the road had looked at her a few extra times. Sometimes I would have her wear the skirt she wore that day and reenact the posture from the bus at home. Each time she climaxed, she would cry and call my name, yet she could not help bringing up A Chao’s size and strength.
I know I've changed.
I used to think that marrying a beautiful wife was something to be proud of, but now I often imagine what she looks like when she is being filled by another man. That imagination makes me both miserable and so excited I almost go crazy.
And my wife changed too. She no longer hid her craving for intense stimulation. Sometimes she would actively invite A-Chao out to 'reminisce,' returning with unfamiliar scents on her body, yet her eyes frighteningly bright. She would kneel before me, recounting the process bit by bit, then beg me to enter her body that had already been used by another.
I agree every time.
Because I discovered that I was hardest when listening to her describe the details of being possessed by others.
Buses, crowds, exposure, moral transgression... these words gradually became the most effective aphrodisiacs between the two of us.
Once, we deliberately took the same bus line again during the evening rush hour. My wife wore an even shorter skirt than that day, almost revealing her buttock line. I stood beside her, pretending to look at my phone, but watched her out of the corner of my eye.
A Chao didn't appear, but other men noticed her. A hand tentatively touched her waist. His wife didn't pull away, instead leaning back slightly. I saw that hand slowly move up, covering her chest. His wife's breathing grew ragged, but she didn't stop it.
My lower body was painfully hard.
After the car arrived at the station, we didn't go home immediately. My wife pulled me into a nearby public restroom, locked the door, lifted her own skirt, and made me look at her already soaked private parts.
“Just now... when I was being touched, I was thinking that you were watching.” she gasped.
Without another word, I pressed her against the door panel and entered from behind. She was hot and tight inside, as if deliberately sucking me in. Halfway through, she suddenly turned her head, tears in her eyes: 'Next time... let Ah Chao come too, okay?'
I didn't answer immediately, just thrust deeper.
She smiled, her voice soft beyond words: 'You're hard... aren't you?'
I admit, I'm definitely hard.
Since then, our marriage has had a tacit understanding that others could not understand. By day she was still my beautiful wife, but at night she would tell me the most unfaithful fantasies, and then climax under me again and again.
Sometimes I would be driven mad with jealousy; other times, I would be so stimulated by that imagination that I could hardly come.
And she seemed to increasingly enjoy the feeling of being needed by me and other men simultaneously.
The bus was still that bus. The crowd was still just as packed. Only now, whenever we got on together, my wife would deliberately stand in the most densely crowded place. I stood beside her, pretending to glance over casually.
Sometimes a hand would reach over.
Sometimes she would tremble slightly.
Sometimes she would glance back at me, her eyes carrying a seductive, almost inviting look.
I know the story is far from over.
And I, could no longer stop.
And I, could no longer stop.
For the month after that, we deliberately took that late rush-hour bus almost every week.
My wife changed into several shorter skirts, sometimes even going without underwear. She would deliberately stand in the most crowded places, with her back to me, letting me watch her out of the corner of my eye. Whenever an unfamiliar hand reached out to touch her waist, buttocks, or fondle her breasts through her clothes, she would tremble slightly, then turn back to give me a look that was almost overflowing.
I stood nearby, my lower body painfully hard, but I never spoke up to stop it.
Once, the bus was especially crowded. A man who looked to be in his thirties stood behind her, his hand completely inside her short skirt. The wife's breathing noticeably quickened, her knees slightly weak. I saw that hand moving rapidly under her skirt, and soon a small patch on the inside of the wife's thigh was wet. Biting her lip, she didn't push him away; instead, she leaned her weight back slightly.
Before the bus reached the stop, the man quickened the pace of his fingers. My wife suddenly trembled all over, her eyes rolling slightly white, clearly climaxing amidst the crowd. Fluid trickled down her leg, dripping onto her shoe. The man withdrew his hand with satisfaction, whispered something in her ear, and got off first.
My wife turned around, her face flushed, but her eyes were frighteningly bright. She grabbed my hand, her voice trembling: 'Just now... he used his fingers and reached deep. So deep... deeper than you usually do.'
I didn't speak, just pulled her into a nearby public restroom. After locking the door, I told her to lift her skirt, and I looked at her private parts, still opening and closing, seeping with clear fluid. Then I entered her from behind, my movements heavy and urgent.
She was being thrust forward against the door panel repeatedly, yet still managed to say intermittently, 'When he... when he touched me, I kept wondering if you'd be jealous... wondering if you'd get harder...'
When I came inside her, she orgasmed again too, her inner walls clamping so tight it made my scalp tingle.
From that night on, our game leveled up.
My wife began to actively contact Ah Chao.
She would send photos she would never normally send to other men—selfies in miniskirts, mirror shots in just underwear, even once a close-up of her spreading her private parts with her own hands. Ah Chao replied quickly, with ambiguous and direct language. Sometimes they would meet at a café, and when the wife returned, her lips were slightly swollen, carrying a faint scent of men's cologne.
I never ask for details, only listen to her voluntary accounts at night.
"Today he took me to a hotel." Once she lay on my chest, her voice soft and coquettish, "As soon as we got in, he pinned me against the wall. I hadn't even taken off my skirt, and he came in from behind right away... so big, even deeper than that time on the bus. While fucking me, he asked, does your husband know? I said yes, and even said you like hearing the details of me getting fucked by someone else the most..."
Listening, my lower body ached with swelling, but I just flipped her over and re-entered her already muddy body.
“And then?” I asked.
“Then he came inside. A lot... when it flowed out, I took a photo with my phone.” She handed me the phone, “Want to look?”
I saw it.
In the video, the wife's legs were wide open, her private area was red and swollen, and thick semen was gushing out in streams. A'chao's low laughter could be heard in the background.
That night I hardly slept. I watched that video while entering my wife again and again, listening to her repeatedly describe how it felt when Achao filled her.
Another two weeks passed, and my wife proposed a new suggestion.
“This weekend... let Achao come home.”
I was silent for a long time.
She knelt in front of me, gently holding my already half-hard member, looking up at me: "Haven't you always wanted to see it with your own eyes? See how he fucks me... see how he makes me cry. I promise, I'll let you stand right there, watch however you want."
In the end, I nodded.
On Saturday night, Ah Chao appeared on time.
He was even more composed than I had imagined. After entering, he first shook my hand, speaking naturally as if he were just here to visit. His wife changed into a black camisole nightdress, wearing nothing underneath. The three-point fabric could barely cover anything; her nipples were clearly visible beneath the thin material.
We sat in the living room drinking first. A-Chao didn't talk much but kept eyeing my wife. My wife's cheeks flushed under his gaze, but she deliberately crossed her legs even higher, her skirt hem almost sliding up to her thighs.
After several rounds of drinks, Achao suddenly stood up, walked over to his wife, pulled her directly up from the sofa, pressed her against the wall, and kissed her. His wife didn't resist; she even actively opened her mouth to respond. They kissed deeply and urgently, Achao's hand already reaching inside her nightgown, kneading her breasts.
I sat in place, watching my wife being pressed against the wall by her college classmate. My lower body was painfully hard, yet I didn't move a muscle.
A Chao turned his wife around, had her brace her hands against the wall, and lifted her nightgown from behind. His wife's private parts were completely soaked, glistening fluid smeared on her inner thighs. A Chao undid his pants, pulled out that thing, thicker and longer than mine by a circle, pressed it against the entrance, and glanced back at me.
“Can we start?” he asked.
I nodded.
A Chao didn't hesitate further, thrusting his hips forward, burying himself completely. His wife let out a long, soft moan, her fingers digging into the wall. A Chao began thrusting, each one deep and heavy, the sound of his scrotum slapping against his wife's buttocks especially clear in the quiet living room.
The wife was thrust forward continuously, yet she still spoke intermittently: "So deep... A-Chao... much deeper than my husband... ah... you're going to fuck me through..."
A Chao chuckled lowly, reached around to the front and pinched her nipple, speeding up. His wife soon climaxed once, her inner walls contracting violently, fluid trickling down from where they were joined, dripping onto the floor.
I walked over and stood to the side, clearly seeing how my wife's private parts were being stretched open and penetrated by another object. With each withdrawal, I could see a bit of the pink inner walls being pulled out before being forcefully pushed back in.
“Turn her around.” I heard myself say.
A Chao followed her words and turned his wife around, having her lean back against the wall, her legs lifted and wrapped around his waist. This position allowed deeper penetration. His wife wrapped her arms around A Chao's neck, but her eyes looked at me, filled with tears and excitement.
"Husband... are you watching? I'm being fucked by your college classmate right now... ah... so full... he's about to cum inside me..."
A Chao's breathing grew heavy, the last few dozen thrusts fast and fierce, finally burying himself deep inside, releasing with a low roar. His wife climaxed simultaneously, her body trembling violently, her toes even pointing straight.
After finishing, Ah Chao didn't withdraw immediately. He maintained the penetrating position, carried his wife to the sofa, and had her straddle him. Semen mixed with her fluids overflowed from where they were still connected.
My wife actively moved up and down, taking that still semi-hard thing in and out of her mouth herself. As she moved, she reached out and pulled me closer, unzipped my pants, and took me into her mouth.
That night, we hardly stopped.
A Chao came inside his wife three times. Once was having her lean over the coffee table and entering from behind; once was having her sit on my lap, facing away from me, while A Chao took her from the front, and I reached down to rub her clitoris; the last time was on the bed in the bedroom, his wife filled simultaneously from both front and back — A Chao behind, and me in her mouth.
At the end, the wife no longer had the strength to speak. She lay in the center of the bed, her legs wide open, her private parts severely red and swollen, semen continuously gushing out, soaking a large area of the bedsheet beneath her.
A Chao sat on the edge of the bed smoking, his tone casual: 'Call me again next time?'
My wife closed her eyes but softly let out an 'mm' sound.
I didn't speak, just reached out and wiped the liquid belonging to another man from between her legs, then put my fingers into her mouth. She obediently took them in, her tongue gently licking.
Since that night, A Chao became a fixed part of our lives.
Sometimes once a week, sometimes every two weeks. Sometimes only at home, sometimes we would go out to a hotel together. My wife became increasingly skilled at showing me how he made her lose control. She would beg him to cum inside, would actively tell me 'so big,' 'so deep,' 'I'm going to break' while he was fucking her, and after, would bring her still-dripping pussy close to my face for me to see, for me to lick.
And I have also completely sunk into depravity.
I started actively making more excessive demands.
Once, I had my wife wear the ultra-short skirt from that bus day, without panties, and go with A Chao to take the bus during the evening rush hour. I followed behind, watching them squeeze into the crowd. A Chao's hand soon slipped under her skirt. My wife leaned against his chest, eyes half-closed, trembling slightly with the movement of his fingers.
After the bus arrived at the stop, they didn't get off immediately. A-Chao, right there in the crowded corner of the bus, unzipped his pants and entered her from behind. My wife bit her own wrist hard, afraid to cry out, but was still thrust until her legs went weak. Some people around noticed, casting curious glances. Stimulated by those looks, my wife climaxed again, fluid trickling down her leg, dripping onto the bus floor.
I stood two steps away, taking in the entire scene.
After getting off the car, the three of us went together to a nearby hotel. That night my wife was fucked until she was almost out of her mind; in the end even her begging sounds turned hoarse. She lay between two male bodies, her private parts and her back passage both had been used, and semen flowed out from both places at the same time.
She reached out, taking my hand and Ah Chao's hand separately, her voice as light as a dream whisper: 'Don't stop... keep going... I want to be filled like this forever...'
I tightened my grip on her hand.
A Chao didn't let go either.
The city lights outside the window are still on. Only the breathing sounds of three people remain in the room, along with the wife's occasional subtle moans from the afterglow.
I know this is no longer simple infidelity, nor mere thrill-seeking.
This is the path the three of us have chosen together—a path of no return.
And I, had already completely gone up.
Every night from then on, every bus ride, every time I opened the door and saw Achao standing outside, I would remember the look in my wife’s eyes as she trembled lightly in the crowd and turned back to look at me.
That was an invitation.
Also a descent into depravity.
It's also the beginning we can no longer stop.
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