Car Ride
After Bowen left that first afternoon, Jane sat on the edge of the bed, naked and still dripping with his cum. The room smelled of sweat and sex. She looked up at our wedding photo above the bed head, and guilt rushed through her. She had just let another man use her body for pleasure on the very bed she shared with me. She wanted to feel bad, but her legs were still shaking with pleasure, and deep down, she knew the thrill was too strong to deny.
That evening, Ivan texted her. His words were firm.
Ivan: Remember. You cannot let your husband touch you anymore. From now on, only I say who can fuck you.
Jane’s heart pounded as she read the text. The thought of rejecting me in bed made her sick with guilt, but she was already too far in. She had obeyed Ivan so many times. She knew she would obey again.
A few days later, Bowen sent her a message of his own. He wanted to see her again. But this time, he wanted her dressed up. He wanted her in outfits that would make her feel like his slut, not my wife.
The outfit he wanted was the pink bodysuit. It was high cut on the thighs, and tight around her waist and hips. The neckline was low, her full breasts were almost spilling out whenever she moved. The fabric stretched thin over her nipples, making them obvious the moment she stepped into the bedroom.
That day, Bowen used my wife again.
He didn’t even let her get comfortable. He pushed her down on the bed, spread her legs wide apart, and pulled the bodysuit fabric aside at her crotch. His hardened cock slid inside her quickly, and my wife moaned out loud, arching her back on our bed. He fucked her with long, hard strokes, the sound of her cries mixed with the wet slap of his thrusts.
My wife gripped his shoulders, eyes closed, her lips parting in pleasure she couldn’t hide. Bowen bent down, kissed her deeply, his tongue forcing hers to submit as he pounded her on our bed. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight like a lover, not a stranger.
He fucked her relentlessly over the next few hours, in multiple positions. When he finally finished inside her, he didn’t pull away immediately. He stayed inside her, kissing her mouth over and over, their lips wet and messy. Jane held his face in both hands, kissing him back with hunger, like she never wanted it to end while receiving his warm cum in her raw pussy.
The next time, Bowen asked for something different. He wanted my wife in a tight dress. It was a white, spaghetti strap dress that clung to her figure. The fabric was smooth, and there was a hint of lace around the chest that made it look delicate but also exposed. Without bra or panties, every curve of her body showed, and when she walked, the dress stretched to tease him with the shape of her ass.
Bowen made her stand in front of him first, looking her up and down. He slid his hands over her sides, cupping her breasts through the thin dress, squeezing her nipples until my wife gasped. Then he lifted the hem up, pushed her back on the bed, and entered her slowly.
My wife cried out immediately, clutching at the sheets. The long dress gathered around her waist as he spread her legs and fucked her deep. Every thrust made her tits bounce under the thin straps. Her moans filled the bedroom again, louder than the previous time. Bowen leaned down, kissing her lips again, forcing his tongue into her mouth.
When he came this time, my wife didn’t even wait for him to pull back. She wrapped both arms around him tightly, kissing his face, his lips, his neck.
Jane, whispering: Lao gong… your cock feels so good inside…
She kissed him like a real wife, like she belonged to him.
They lay together for a long while after, my wife’s head rested on his chest, and her hand stroked his stomach slowly. His skin was warm, his chest broad, and he felt masculine. She hugged him tighter, closing her eyes as though she never wanted to leave his side.
Bowen shifted slightly, placing his arm around her. His hand slid down, resting on the curve of her ass. He gave it a firm squeeze. Jane moaned softly against his chest, lifting her face up to look at him. Their eyes met, and before either of them said a word, Bowen pulled her mouth onto his.
The kiss was not gentle. His lips pressed hard, his tongue pushing into her mouth, tasting her. My wife returned his advance, opening wide for him, sucking his tongue, kissing him hungrily. She moaned into his mouth, her hands sliding up to hold his face, pulling him closer. Their tongues tangled, and saliva passed back and forth, their kisses making wet sounds that filled the quiet bedroom.
Bowen groaned as he kissed my wife, his hands moving down to her breasts. He pushed the dress straps aside, freeing her tits. His palms pressed hard onto her bare breasts and fondled them. Jane gasped into his mouth, then kissed him even harder.
He squeezed her breasts roughly, then slid his hand lower. My wife arched her back, shivering.
Jane: oooh… Lao gong…
She said it clearly, the same name she had always used for me, but now it was for him.
Her hand slid down his body, caressing his stomach, moving lower, until she felt his cock twitching back to life. She rubbed him slowly, teasing him while still kissing his mouth. Bowen groaned again, his hips shifting at her touch.
But instead of entering her again, Bowen slid his hand down between her thighs. My wife naturally spread her legs for him immediately, offering herself without hesitation. His fingers pushed her dress higher and slipped into her swollen pussy. She gasped loudly, clutching his arm, her hips jerking up as his fingers rubbed her clit.
Jane buried her face against his neck, moaning, kissing his skin, and biting softly. Her hips moved with his hand, grinding herself against his fingers. He slid two fingers deep inside her, curling them upwards, rubbing her walls while his thumb pressed hard on her clit. My wife cried out, shaking, her arms wrapping tight around him.
Jane: Ahhh… Ahhhhh… lao gong… yes… faster lao gong!
Her voice cracked between moans, the words spilling out without thought. She kissed his lips again, messy and desperate, and saliva ran down the side of her mouth.
Jane: Faster Lao gong! I’m coming already!! Arghhh!! Ahhhhhh!
My wife cried out as her orgasm rushed through her body, her body jerking violently against his hand. She kissed him through it, and moaned into his mouth.
When she finally collapsed back onto the bed, panting hard, Bowen wiped his wet fingers on her thigh. My wife didn’t flinch. Instead, she grabbed his hand, lifted it to her mouth, and sucked his fingers clean, licking her own juices off them while looking straight into his eyes. Then, my wife returned the favour and shifted her body down. She took his hard cock into her mouth and gave him a slow, sensual blow job. It was unhurried, and deep throated, where my wife stroke the whole length of Bowen’s cock with her lips and mouth. Needless to say, she swallowed his cum again and cleaned his cock with her mouth. The couple then cuddled in bed and kissed for the next hour.
That night, I came home to clean bedsheets. Smelled nice and crisp. Jane told me she had an evening appointment so she wasn’t home. I tabao-ed burrito and ate at the kitchen window, looking out across the streets, at the cars going out and into the multi storey carpark below.
As Bowen’s car drove into the multi storey carpark, he grinned at my wife, who was seated beside in the passenger seat.
Bowen: Hope you enjoyed the dinner just now.
Jane: Thanks Lao gong.
She leaned in and whispered: Do you want dessert?
Bowen smiled. He leaned back in his seat, spreading his legs wider. He said nothing, only watching my wife as she pulled down his zipper slowly, teasingly, until his cock sprang free from his pants.
It was thick, long, the head was already swollen. The moment she saw it, her lips parted in hunger. She wrapped her hand around the base and gave a slow stroke, feeling the heat and weight of it. A bead of precum had already formed at the tip, glistening under the dim light that came in through the windshield.
My wife leaned down, her lips brushing the tip. She kissed it once, lightly, then again, wetter this time, before flicking her tongue over the slit and tasting the saltiness of his precum. Her whole body shivered.
Her tongue circled the head slowly, teasing it. The taste of his cock filled her mouth, musky and salty. She closed her eyes and moaned softly, licking around the ridge before wrapping her lips around the swollen head and sucking gently. Bowen groaned. His hand reached to the back of her head, fingers gripping her hair.
My wife started slow. She bobbed her head shallowly, taking just the tip in and out of her mouth while her tongue swirled around him. Her saliva coated him quickly, making it wet and slippery. Each time she pulled back, a strand of spit stretched between her lips and his cock, glistening in the dim light.
She wanted more. She wanted to drown in it.
Opening wider, she pushed further, sliding more of his shaft into her mouth. The thick cock stretched her lips wide, forcing her to breathe through her nose. Her saliva began dripping down, wetting her chin. The sound of her sucking grew louder, and more obscene in the quiet car.
Bowen groaned again, his hips pushing up slightly, forcing her to take more.
My wife gagged when the head hit the back of her throat, her body retching, but she didn’t pull away. She tightened her lips, pressed her tongue flat, and forced herself to take him deeper. Her eyes watered, tears sliding down her cheeks, mixing with the saliva that was already running down her chin.
She pulled back, coughing, strings of spit and precum connected her lips to his cock. Her chest heaved and her mouth was messy. She stroked him with her hand quickly, saliva dripping down onto her fingers.
Then she dove back down.
This time she went deeper, pushing herself to swallow more of him. Her throat convulsed, gagging and choking, but she held on, making slurping, wet, sloppy sounds as she bobbed her head faster. Saliva bubbled around the base of his cock, dribbling down onto his balls, soaking them.
Her nose pressed Into his groin. She gagged hard, choking on his shaft, tears streaming, but she didn’t stop. She moaned around his cock.
When she pulled out again, cum and spit mixed at her lips, dripping down onto her chest. She looked up at him, her mouth open, sticking her tongue out, showing him the mess she was making for him.
Jane: You like this, Lao gong?
She then immediately took him back into her mouth. Bowen groaned louder, his hips thrusting now, using her mouth for his pleasure. My wife let him. She surrendered, opening wide, drool soaking everything, slurping louder, gagging harder. Her throat was raw but her pussy was throbbing with lust again. And then she felt him twitch.
His cock swelled in her throat, pulsing. She gripped the base tighter and sucked hard. Bowen growled as hot cum spurted into her mouth. My wife gagged as the huge, thick load hit the back of her throat, some slipping out, dripping down her chin. She swallowed quickly, gulping it down, then pulled back just enough to let the next spurt paint her lips and cheeks.
She smiled, licking her lips, scooping up the dripping cum with her tongue. Then she leaned down and licked the cum that had spilled onto his belly, sucking it up slowly and seductively.
Finally, she sat back in her seat, her face messy with spit and cum, chest rising and falling, eyes filled with lust.
I finished my burrito and washed up. Jane came back a short while later and smiled. Her outfit was sexy as hell.
Quote:
Originally Posted by
secretlurker88
update more! that was a great update. gonna get some in-car action later tonight and see if i can push her limits..
Thanks you. The story will continue accordingly.
Does anyone want to read horror stories?
Surprised
When Jane came home that night, she was quiet. Not guilty or anything, just deep in thoughts. I noticed a faint smell on her, and it’s not her perfume. The mind is cruel, it filled up the blanks in my head faster than actual facts. A dozen thoughts came into my head, each one worse than the last.
I told myself not to ask. Asking would make it real, and maybe worse. So i said nothing, and only watched her pack her bag and switched on the kettle as if everything was normal.
That night, lying beside her, I looked at the outline of her body under the blanket. She slept facing away from me. I wanted to hug her from behind but there was something between us, something invisible.
Questions came into my head. Who did she meet this time? Did they do anything together? Why she wore such a sexy outfit for appointment?
I knew she had sex with a guy called Jason in Taiwan. The fact remained, she had sex with a man other than me, and bathed together with him. Naked. I could not forget her words that night in the walk in wardrobe. But new questions popped into my head. Questions that surprised myself. What positions did this Jason fuck her in? Did he cum inside her pussy raw? Or did he cum inside her mouth? Did she swallow? How many times had this Jason fucked my wife?
Then, all at once, I joined the dots. Jane had gone to Ipoh once, with a friend of hers whom I also knew, the one she said was safe, harmless and gay. I remembered how casual she sounded when she mentioned a local man named Jason who showed them around. I hadn’t thought much of it back then as it just another small detail from her trip.
But now, the memory wouldn’t leave me alone. The second day she was there, she had been rushed to the hospital due to bad gastric pain, she said. I believed her and worried for her. But now, knowing what I know, I connected the pieces, connected Jason to her in a way that felt too close. I couldn’t stop asking myself. Was it really just gastric pain?
I replayed everything. The way she avoided talking much about that day. How she came home quieter than usual. No doctor’s report, and no clear explanation. Just a faint bruise near her hip that she brushed off. The more I thought about it, the more my stomach turned. What already happened in Ipoh? I knew Jason had fucked Jane in Taiwan. Was she already fucked by him in Ipoh? And fucked so intensely that she developed gastric pain?
The thought was unbearable. Maybe it wasn’t pain in her stomach at all. Maybe it was something else entirely, something she couldn’t bring herself to explain and just brushed off as gastric pain. If anyone of my readers have any thoughts, please let me know.
I realised, lying there, that the marriage wasn’t broken. It was still standing still, just different. I laid awake until morning, listening to her sleep, wondering how we could move our lives forward.
I hated my curiosity. A small, unbearable part of me wanted to know every detail. Because… I felt aroused…
Jane had been coughing since the next morning. By evening her voice had grown hoarse, her cheeks pale, and her body felt too warm under my hand. The doctor said it was just influenza, but she looked completely drained. She took a double dose of Fedec pills around nine, the kind that knock you out fast. Within minutes she was half-asleep, curling under the blanket, her breathing slowing.
It was Saturday night, silent except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan. I sat by the edge of the bed, watching her sleep. Every time she coughed lightly, I reached out instinctively and patted her back. She looked peaceful in that heavy, dreamless state the pills brought, her eyes shut tight, lips slightly parted.
Her phone lay beside her pillow. The screen was dark. My mind had been circling around it for months. All the times she smiled while texting, all the times she said it was just friends from work or group chats from her trips. I told myself I trusted her. I wanted to. But the doubts had never gone away.
Now, the opportunity was right there. She wouldn’t wake, not under that strong medication. Still, my pulse began to beat rapidly. I stared at the phone as if it were alive. Picking it up felt like crossing a line, a quiet action in curiosity and fear.
I sat there for a full minute, listening to my heartbeat. Then I reached for it. The phone felt warm from her hand, the faint scent of her lotion still on the case. I pressed the button. The screen lit up, a flood of light in the dark room. My reflection flashed in it, pale and uncertain.
The lock screen was still the same, a picture of us at East Coast Park, smiling. For a second, I almost stopped. But then those thoughts, those words I overheard, the ones I couldn’t forget, came back.
I typed in her passcode, the simplr one she always had. It still worked. The phone unlocked.
The WeChat icon. I opened it.
The chats loaded slowly, as if the phone itself was reluctant to show me what it held. I scrolled through the list of contacts: family group, work colleagues, friends from school. Ordinary names. Harmless. But near the bottom, some names I hadn’t seen before caught my eye.
Ivan.
Bow.
Jason.
Gary.
My stomach clenched.
I tapped into the chats.
The screen filled with messages, weeks, months old, and then suddenly, recent ones. Lines of casual talk, photos, stickers, emojis. At first glance, it was nothing. Just small talk, flirtatious words, nothing sexual. But as I scrolled, the tone shifted. The way they used words. The names they called each other. Baobei, bb, dear, and lao gong… I could feel it, something was wrong, it was too intimate.
My fingers trembled.
I scrolled faster, looking for proof, something undeniable. There were gaps in the chats, entire stretches deleted. But even what remained was enough to make my throat tighten.
The messages stopped abruptly a week ago. No goodbye, no closure.
Just silence. Nothing.
Then a sudden thought came to mind. I clicked on the … in the chats, and clicked into Search Chat History. There were photos. Photos she sent and received from.
I was gutted. The photo she sent to a man called Ivan came up. It was a hotel room. My wife was standing at the back of the room, wearing a black bathrobe, drying her hair.
Why was she in a hotel room?
There was no messages, no text, nothing. Just the photo.
I felt sick.
But nothing prepared me for what I saw next.
I clicked into the chat with this guy called Bow. Not a lot of messages, just one liner “lao gong good night”. I clicked into the photo section.
There she was, my wife… wearing a set of sexy black lace lingerie, sitting on the bed. She was on the phone.
I checked the date. It was the night, a couple months ago, she called me saying she needed to stay with her female colleague who got drunk from over drinking.
The photo told me otherwise.
Wait.
I checked back at the photo she sent Ivan, with this photo Bow sent her… they were taken in the same…
Hi bros, here is a quick update while I take slightly more time to write the next chapter. It took me much consideration before deciding to share the photos which I thought would add to the narrative. Stay tuned, the next chapter will come.