Chapter 1 — Guilty Feelings Toward My Husband

I'm betraying my husband for the second time.

Guilt and remorse flood me, yet I can't seem to stop myself.

Where should I even begin...

I'm 38 years old. Married for 14 years. A housewife with two middle-school-aged sons.

I dated my husband for about a year before we married. Before him, I'd had deep relationships with three men.

Of course, I cut ties with all my past boyfriends when I married.

My husband doesn't know every detail of my past, but he knows enough.

He's a man with great understanding and emotional depth.

Even now at 39, he dyes his hair jet black—still so youthful, so open-minded.

So it was him, actually, who first suggested swapping.

He wanted something more exciting, more varied—wanted to experience different things before we got too old.

For six months, he pleaded, even threatened?—until finally, we reached an agreement to try partner-swapping.

During our first swap, I couldn't bear the thought of having sex with another man right in front of my husband. So we decided to switch partners but have sex in separate rooms.

I'm not sure if it was the tension of that first time, but I didn't reach orgasm much at all.

Ironically, the sex I had with my husband after returning home was far more pleasurable.

I was incredibly turned on by the way he looked at me, knowing another man's semen was still pooling inside my vagina.

A month later, we did it again with another couple.

That time, I could feel every single touch of the other man so acutely—I finally reached climax.

Again, we swapped partners and stayed in separate rooms.

When we got home, my husband roughly tore off my clothes. Just as I expected, he checked to see if another man's semen was still inside me.

Seeing it pooled there, he immediately thrust into me. That sensation was incredible.

The third swap was different—we were all in the same room. We switched partners right there.

As soon as my partner came, my husband abandoned his own partner and immediately entered me.

I'm not sure if I secretly wanted it that way or not.

My husband thrusting into me, his wife's pussy still full of another man's semen. And me, feeling it all...

It was an indescribable mix of excitement and pleasure. Receiving the climax of two men, one after another...

After that, we swapped roughly once every two months—four more times. That made seven swaps in total over two years since the first.

Then my husband's business hit a rough patch, and we stopped for a while.

But when his business stabilized again, he made another proposal.

He confessed he'd been dreaming of something like a porn scene—both of us having sex with two men at once.

I secretly welcomed his suggestion.

Truthfully, I'd always felt uneasy with the other wives during our swaps.

When we were in the same room, the moment our bodies touched, I'd get goosebumps.

The first three-way began with a man from my husband's company.

I'd never seen him before. My husband didn't introduce me as his wife—just as his lover, his sex partner.

Maybe he felt embarrassed calling me his wife, or perhaps insecure.

Sex with two men at once was overwhelmingly euphoric.

The sensation of taking two men in turns...

Having both my mouth and my pussy filled at the same time—it was so intense.

I felt like a porn star, transformed into a true sex goddess.

My husband seemed utterly satisfied too.

We used to have sex about once a week, but after that first threesome, he demanded it every single day.

After a few more threesomes with that man,

my husband and I felt we needed more courage? More stimulation?

So he invited someone new—somehow, a 27-year-old graduate student. This time, he introduced us as a married couple.

I was 34 then. He was seven years younger than me.

Even though he wasn't particularly skilled, the fact that I was in the arms of a man seven years younger—right in front of my husband—was an enormous turn-on.

After that, my husband and I"taught" the young man, so to speak. We did it about five times with him.

We'd invited four different men by then, so we'd had around fifteen threesomes in total.

Human desire has no limits. Strangely, it wasn't just sex anymore—I began craving connection, intimacy.

All this time, I'd only indulged in swapping and threesomes, but somehow, I still felt thirsty.

Around then, I was temporarily working at a department store clothing counter because of a friend. That's where I met a male employee from the headquarters.

He was 30, unmarried. Five years younger than me.

He wasn't a handsome man, but he had a warm, easygoing charm that made me feel comfortable.

We started meeting, and naturally, we ended up having sex. Our"older sister, younger brother" dynamic quickly turned into"you" and"me."

Meeting him secretly, dating behind my husband's back—this, too, became a new kind of thrill for me.

I made up excuses, lied to my husband, and met with him about once a week, indulging myself.

Even during this time, my husband and I continued our threesomes roughly once every two months.

But somehow, my husband found out. He demanded I tell him the truth—confronted me directly.

Right in front of me, he called the man.

Told him I was a married woman with children, and he should stop seeing me immediately. Warned him that if they met again, he wouldn't let it go.

After that, the man completely cut off contact.

I felt disappointed in him. Cowardly.

Then my husband spoke to me.

"What we do—swapping, threesomes—it's not permission for you to cheat on me.

You're a woman. You have the right to enjoy yourself as a woman.

But I'd rather we acknowledge it together than betray each other secretly.

Before we started swapping, whenever I saw married women in their thirties, I felt sexual desire.

But you? You were just the mother of my kids, my wife—not a woman to me.

But seeing other married women cheat... I realized my own wife is a woman too.

If you want, I want to let you enjoy it.

Since we started swapping, I've never cheated on you.

I did betray you before.

But when we truly enjoy sex together, body to body, I am a husband who doesn't deceive you.

I know you're a passionate woman. I know how much you've endured all this time.

Just never betray me again.

If you ever need a man, tell me honestly—don't hide it.

Let's pretend this never happened."

After that, for about two years, my husband and I stopped swapping or doing threesomes altogether.

Of course, neither of us cheated on the other secretly.

During that time, my husband's business struggled, and he aged visibly.

In his late thirties, but physically and mentally exhausted.

Our sex life dropped from once a week to once a month. His face looked perpetually tired.

I felt physical dissatisfaction, but I didn't complain—knowing how hard he was struggling.

Then, out of the blue, my husband suggested threesomes again.

Before, he'd chosen the men we invited. This time, he told me to pick.

Maybe he sensed things had changed between us.

The man who used to scold me harshly for the smallest mistake now seemed gentler.

Men in their middle years often grow more dependent on their wives, don't they?

This time, the threesomes were different.

Before, he'd participated with me, two men taking me at once.

Now, he mostly watched. Helped me along, observed.

During the threesomes, he couldn't climax. But when we got home, he'd turn frighteningly aggressive.

He'd have rough sex with me, narrating what he'd seen.

Another change—he started calling me names during sex:"slut","whore","piece of rag."

It didn't feel malicious.

He said I wasn't turned on the way I used to be.

When he saw me having intense sex with another man, he'd think of me as a prostitute—but that thought ignited a fierce lust in him.

Maybe he needed this stimulation to cope with mental and physical stress.

After that, we did threesomes almost every month.

Five times, maybe.

The more we did it, the longer my husband spent just watching instead of participating.

Then he told me he wanted to invite two men at once—wanted to watch me enjoy myself with both.

One of the men I met then is now my secret lover, the one I'm seeing behind my husband's back.

At a certain club, my husband invited two men—one 41, just two years older than my husband, and another 32.

Both were experienced. I saw photos of their penises—thick, large. I liked what I saw.

Maybe because of all my experience, or maybe because I'd had so much—I now preferred big penises.

From start to finish, my husband just watched.

That night, I had sex with both men until dawn.

Especially the 32-year-old—we seemed perfectly matched.

I love receiving cum inside me.

Even if he came quickly, he'd get hard again fast—come again, and again.

The feeling when my pussy is completely filled...

That night, the 32-year-old came inside me five times.

He said he really liked me.

When we were tightly embracing, he whispered softly into my ear.

Said he wanted to meet me alone.

He gave me his number secretly, and now I see him behind my husband's back.

Coincidentally, he works in this area, and recently moved nearby, so we meet often.

He knows I still do threesomes with my husband about once a month.

Sometimes he even brings his friends or juniors along.

I know this is just about sex. Nothing more.

But even so, I feel guilty for meeting him secretly.

My husband wants us all to be together. But when I'm alone with this man, I feel a different kind of pleasure.

The thrill of his large cock, the vigor of his young body, and occasionally, sex with his friends or juniors...

We're just sex partners, but I can't let go of this taste.

Sometimes I tell my husband,"I'm going out to enjoy myself."

He says,"Go ahead."

But he always adds one line.

"Just this once. I don't want you seeing him again."

He'll allow me to meet someone new every day—as long as it's just for fun.

But dating? Never.