My life changed after my wife's affair.

Irina and I met 18 years ago; I was then entering my fourth year, and she had just started her first. Our educational institution had a well-developed amateur arts scene; we traveled with concerts to cities across Russia, drank with our group, had fun, etc.—basically, we merrily rolled through our student days. I met Irina when she and her friend came to sign up for the dance group. As a new girl, I immediately noticed her—how could you not: a very beautiful figure, slim and toned, a second-size chest like two balls with perky nipples visible through her T-shirt—she didn't wear a bra

then or now. I even tried chasing after her for a few weeks, but as it turned out later when we started dating, she pretended I wasn't interesting to her. Why "pretended"?

Simply because Irina later confessed to me that she had always wanted me, from our first meeting, but at that time she was very shy. Well, in short, I chased after her and then gave up; back then, I had more than enough female attention around me. In 2001, I graduated from our institution and decided to settle down from my wild ways, starting to look for a steady girlfriend, a future wife. I won't go into a long backstory about how everything started between us; I'll just say that two years after we met, Irina and I began dating. Our sex has always been and still is insane and wonderful; we've had sex everywhere—at night on the beach, during the day in the Volga River with plenty of people swimming nearby, on the dance floor at a disco, in restaurant bathrooms, etc. It would take too long to recall everything now, but the point is: one day Irina told me about her sexual experience with her friend, and I got very aroused by that story.

Lesbian love in general excites me. And since then, we started adding a little spice to our sexual relationship, imagining her friend in our bed during sex, and sex became much more intense because of it. Later, we sometimes imagined a third man, although in reality, I was jealous of every lamppost. A few years after we started dating, I several times felt the desire to have group sex in reality, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to cross that line. Soon, my beloved began to gradually mature and transform, and I was crazy about her. When Irina got a job, that's when I burned with jealousy, as she was constantly surrounded by quite a few men who would drive her home from work, call her, invite her to lunch at restaurants during breaks, and what's most characteristic—always different ones.

I repeatedly questioned Irina about her so-called admirers, to which she always reassured me and said—"They're just admirers, but I only love you." And then he appeared, let's call him Oleg. She met him at work too. Oleg even helped us with cars and some organizational matters at our wedding. After the wedding, I initially heard about him periodically from Irina, and then it was all Oleg this, Oleg that... And from then on, I started suspecting that their relationship wasn't just friendly. You might think I was naive, maybe, but I absolutely refused to believe that my wife was a slut. There were no bounds to my jealousy, but I couldn't catch them and expose them; my wife came home on time and didn't seem to show any signs, yet the talk about Oleg from her lips continued.

Coming home, I didn't even know where to start or how to react to everything if she confessed. So, steering the conversation to Oleg, I slowly began to approach the exposure, and it turned out that my wife had indeed had sex with Oleg that time, and he fucked her as he wanted. According to Irina: "First, placing his hand on my shoulder during the session, gently pressing, he turned my head, his lips were near mine, and he kissed me tenderly; the kiss was passionate and long. Then he began to undress me slowly, starting with the blouse under which there was nothing, thus baring my beautiful breasts, and he began to lick my nipples. Meanwhile, my hand went to his fly and encountered an already erect cock; it was magnificent, thick, and hot. I started slowly stroking it. At the same time, with Oleg's help, I lost the rest of my clothes, after which he slid down between my legs and began slowly approaching my treasure, which was already all wet from overexcitement. He licked me so passionately and for so long that I experienced several orgasms from his tongue and hot lips."

— Soon, standing before me, I unbuttoned and removed his pants—he wasn't wearing underwear—and I could now not only feel his handsome cock with my hands but also watch it, take it in my mouth, suck it, lick its head and balls, and I went crazy from it. Then Oleg turned me over doggy-style, gently entered my heated pussy, and began to fuck me smoothly; I writhed on his cock like a cat that hadn't been had in a long time. This went on for about fifteen minutes, after which he turned me around, put me on my knees, clamped his cock between my breasts, and began to fuck my chest, during which I tried to catch its head with my lips. I don't know how he held back for so long, after which he shoved his cock into my mouth, and I felt his balls tighten toward the base, and the first shot hit my throat; his cum was very thick, and there was so much of it that it simply spilled out of my mouth, running down my chin onto my chest and lower.

— Afterward, he passionately kissed me again, licking his own fruits, and I again began to suck his re-swelling cock, not thinking he would recover so quickly. And if the first time he fucked me gently, then as his cock in my mouth regained its former hardness, he sharply turned me around like a whore and began to very hard and widely ram my pussy, and that continued for another five minutes. After that, he pulled out of me and began, wetting with saliva, to massage my second hole; I didn't have time to realize as he sharply thrust into my ass—sparks even flew from my eyes—but to soften the pain, he sharply pulled out and rammed my pussy. And so he began to ram either my pussy or my ass, and now sparks flew from my eyes from pleasure. Good thing the cinema room had soundproofing, or people from all the rooms would have come running from my screams...

If you liked the story—write, there will be a continuation.

Author's e-mail: lео3201@rаmblеr.ru