A story ten years in the making

[spaman7]

Waiting......

[TheArtist]

Taiwan

The trip had been arranged months ago. Jane was going to Taiwan with her charity group, a few friends who had no idea about her double life or her marriage to me. They saw her as a single, carefree woman, someone who could do as she pleased. So when Jason showed up in Taiwan to meet them, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. To Jane’s friends, he was just her boyfriend.

I didn’t know she met up with Jason in Taiwan. It sounded like a casual getaway for Jane, taking a break from her work and the stress of sales targets. I sent her to the airport, T3, not knowing what was in store for her.

Or for me… Until just a few weeks after she came back from the trip.

It was 2.40am. I stirred awake to the faint buzz of Jane’s phone vibrating on the bedside table. Her voice was soft, a sleepy murmur as she answered the call. I didn’t catch what she said, but the way she slipped out of bed quietly and tiptoed across the room told me she didn’t want to disturb me, or so she thought.

The door to the walk-in wardrobe in our bedroom clicked shut softly. She didn’t bother turning on the lights, relying on the faint glow from her phone screen to navigate. I lay there in bed, motionless, pretending to be asleep, but her voice carried through the thin barrier of the wardrobe door made of plywood.

I couldn’t hear Jason’s responses, but her tone was playful and teasing, as she started talking. They chatted over the phone for about 15 minutes or so. Sensing no movement outside the wardrobe, Jane seemingly grew more comfortable and her voice got a tad louder.

Jane: That day before we go KTV, dunno why you bath so long. I already done and changing.

There was a pause, as if Jason was responding, and then she let out a soft laugh.

Jane: Why you stand in the bathroom so long?

Her voice softened slightly.

Jane: I already scrubbed and clean for you.

Another pause, followed by a curious shift in her tone.

Jane: Oh wait, that day, is it the same day as that mirror…?

My heart skipped a beat. Mirror? What mirror?

Jane: Ehhhhhh, no ah… before bathing, didn’t we do it?

She trailed off, her voice dropping a little lower. There was a longer pause now, as though Jason was saying something that made her think back.

Jane: Is it the same day? Then? Didn’t I give it to you already? It’s the same day you say still got time before meeting the others for KTV right…?

Her voice grew quieter, almost like she was piecing the memory together herself.

Jane: Aiyoooooooo… I thought we do finish already, then we go bathe. I wash for you, and you wash me. Clean clean go KTV.

I felt my pulse quicken. My mind was racing as I tried to string together the implications of what I was hearing. Do finish? Wash each other?

Jane: I didn’t know in bathroom you wash me, also got reaction.

There was a nervous giggle in her voice now, light and apologetic.

Jane: I never help you settle, you feel miserable.

Her laugh came again, soft but unguarded, as if amused by the memory.

Jane: So you settle yourself…

The way she said it, almost nonchalantly, left no doubt in my mind what she meant.

Jane: Ya, a guy and a girl bathe together will have reaction.

Her tone shifted again, becoming almost matter-of-fact.

Jane: I didn’t realise. I thought help you wash clean can already.

She let out a soft laugh, and I felt my chest tighten as the meaning behind her words sank in. They had bathed together in Taiwan. Not just bathed, they had touched, teased, and clearly done much more than that. Her words painted a vivid picture without needing to spell everything out.

I lay frozen, barely daring to breathe, trying to process what I’d overheard. She wasn’t whispering, but her voice was low enough that she clearly thought I wouldn’t hear. Her tone was casual and intimate, as though she felt safe enough with Jason to talk freely behind the wardrobe walls.


The conversation I overheard that night became a scar etched deep into my mind. Her words, simple and casual as they were, lingered in my mind and refused to fade. Each phrase, each innocent remark, carried an unbearable weight that grew heavier with every passing day.

“That day before we go KTV, dunno why you bath so long. I already done and changing.”

At first, it seemed innocent enough, a memory of her getting ready. But then came the next line, her teasing tone unmistakable.

“Why you stand in the bathroom so long?”

Why indeed? Why would a man linger in the bathroom with my wife? The implication hit me like a sledgehammer. They had been together in there. Not just standing, not just chatting. There was something playful about the way she said it.

“I already scrubbed and clean for you.”

A bolt shot right into my mind, as I lay frozen in the bed that night. Scrubbed and clean for you? My wife had washed him? Her hands, the hands that held mine lovingly, had touched another man’s body, cleaning and scrubbing him. I had never been washed by her, never. It wasn’t something she even offered to me. Yet with Jason, it sounded so casual, so expected.

“Oh wait, that day, is it the same day as that mirror…?”

What mirror? The image sprang into my mind: the two of them standing in front of a mirror, most likely naked, her reflection caught between as his arms wrap around to caress her. Surely he must had fondled her irresistible boobs. The possibilities were endless, each one more unbearable than the last. What exactly did they do in front of the mirror?

“Eh, before bathing, didn’t we do it?”

This was the first dagger that truly lodged itself in my chest. Didn’t we do it? She had asked, as if confirming a memory. My wife, my Jane, had not only bathed with him but had been with him before that. They had done it, fucked, before they even stepped into the shower. And yet, she sounded so casual, so unbothered by this revelation. How was she fucked by Jason? In bed, or in from of the mirror? Jason could have fucked her from behind while she stared at her own reflection, her own face moaning as her pussy got pumped. How incredibly hot was that?

“Is it the same day? Then? Didn’t I give it to you already?”

Gave it to him. The words tore through my mind, repeating endlessly. What had she “given” him? Her body? Her submission? Her pussy or mouth, or both? She spoke as if she had offered herself to him like a gift, willingly and happily, without hesitation. She gave to him what was supposed to be mine and mine alone.

“I thought we do finish already, then we go bathe. I wash for you, and you wash me. Clean clean go KTV.”

The casualness of it all was what killed me most. They had sex, bathed together, washed each other, and then headed out as if nothing happened. She cleaned him, he cleaned her, their hands had roamed over each other’s bodies under the shower.

“I didn’t know in bathroom you wash me, also got reaction. I never help you settle, you feel miserable.”

This was the part I couldn’t let go of. He had a reaction. Of course he did—who wouldn’t, bathing with her? But she hadn’t helped him release, and that left him “miserable,” as she so kindly put it. The idea of him standing there, aroused, unsatisfied, while she laughed it off or ignored it, it made my stomach churn. Did she deny him then, only to give in later?

“So you settle yourself.”

Did he really “settle himself,” or was that her way of downplaying what happened next? In my mind, I could see it so clearly. He wouldn’t have stopped at “settling himself.” He would have pulled her close, their wet bodies pressed together, and she would have given in to him, letting him have her pussy again right there in the shower. Or did she blow him instead, kneeling on the cold bathroom tiles?

“Ya, a guy and a girl bathe together will have reaction. I didn’t realise. I thought help you wash clean can already.”

Her naivety sounded fake. She knew what she was doing. She wasn’t blind to the effect she had on him. Her hands, her body and her touch, she knew exactly what they were capable of. The words haunted me, a reminder of how easily she had crossed a line I never thought she would even approach.

The torment of that night didn’t end with the overheard conversation. It only began there. My thoughts spiraled endlessly, each question more excruciating than the last, feeding into a nightmare that had no end.

If she already had sex with Jason, if they had bathed together, then what boundaries could possibly have remained between them? What else had he done to her? Surely, that wasn’t the first or last time. In Taiwan, sharing a hotel room, what stopped him from climbing into bed with her every night? Did they sleep together, naked, like true lovers? Did he have her body whenever he wanted it?

And Jason, did he use condoms? Or did he fuck my wife, without restraint, bare and raw? If he didn’t, what then? Did my wife give her pussy to him without hesitation? Did she let him cum inside her, fill her pussy and mark her as his woman?

The lingering Image of their intimacy clawed at me. That night in the wardrobe, she had so casually alluded to things she would never do with me. Had she knelt before him, her lips and tongue devoted to his cock, eager to satisfy him? Throughout the week in Taiwan, how many times was her married pussy ravaged by this man?

Worse yet, did they french like lovers? Did my wife kiss him passionately, as though there was no one else in the world? I couldn’t stop imagining it, her arms wrapped around his neck, their mouths locked and tongues licking and sucking each other. For her to french him, for her to give herself so completely, would mean she accepted him fully, without reserve. Was that what happened?

And the bathing—it wasn’t just a one-time thing, was it? Had they made a habit of it, stripping down together every night, touching, washing and caressing each other? Did she let him explore her body under the shower, his hands roaming freely over her breasts, her waist and her thighs? Did he linger between her legs, washing her warm, moist pussy and finger her until she came ?

The possibility that he had washed her there, for his own pleasure, was a thought I couldn’t escape. Did she lean back against the wall, her legs parted slightly, letting him do as he pleased? Did his hands bring her to orgasm?
Did she cry out in pleasure?

Every detail I didn’t know became a wound, a blank space my mind filled with the worst possibilities. The mystery of what truly happened only made it worse. I didn’t know for certain if he used a condom, if he came inside her raw, if he kissed her the way a lover does. I didn’t know if he claimed her in ways she had never allowed me.

The Taiwan trip was different. Unlike her other meetups and escapades, events that were revealed to me years later, in passing conversations or during her confessions, this one hit me in real time. There was no delay, no chance for the memory to dull or for her to rewrite the narrative into something less severe. That overheard conversation from the wardrobe came just weeks after her trip, and it shattered any illusions I might have still held onto.

Up until then, I had known about her flirtations, her provocative dressing, and even her teasing of men. But actual sex? That was something she had always dismissed, or so I thought. Her meetings with men seemed innocent and intimacy was a line she claimed she hadn’t crossed. But Taiwan changed everything.

Hearing her words that night, there was no mistaking it. She had crossed the line. My wife had already given herself to another man, Jason. The subtle hints, the casual tone in her voice, the way she reminisced about their shared moments, it all painted a vivid picture. She didn’t have to explicitly say the words for me to know. I knew.

And it wasn’t just the act itself that devastated me. It was the timing. I overheard her that very year, not years later when the memory might have faded into the background. It was fresh. While I had previously clung to the hope that her flirtations were just that, harmless fun, this overheard moment tore away any doubt. My wife had sex with another man.

It was the confirmation I wasn’t ready for. Hearing her words confirmed what I had always feared but refused to accept: my wife wasn’t just teasing or playing with her little world, she had gone all the way. Jason wasn’t just a friend or a casual flirtation; he was a man who had fucked her pussy in ways I couldn’t deny.

And the implications were endless. If she had already been with Jason, how many others were there? Was he the first, or had there been others before him? Every playful look, every flirty message she had exchanged with other men over the years now took on a new meaning.

The Taiwan trip became a turning point. It wasn’t just a memory I could revisit and analyze in hindsight, it was a realization that struck me in the present, confirming that my wife had stepped into a world of pleasure and sex with other men. And as I sat in bed that night, listening to her carefree laughter in the wardrobe, I realized I would never see her the same way again...

[glenlivet]

Thanks for the nice update.

[zaqawi]

Hope to read more updates.

[belvederer]

Please help to post more nice stories

[brush]

Thanks for all the nice stories.

[Cafsils]

Originally Posted by glenlivet

Thanks for the nice update.

Originally Posted by zaqawi

Hope to read more updates.

Originally Posted by belvederer

Please help to post more nice stories

Originally Posted by brush

Thanks for all the nice stories.

Agreed with all of you.

[TheArtist]

Originally Posted by Cafsils

Agreed with all of you.

Hmmmm I happen to notice some similarities between these posters, similar join date, points and comments. Could these be... Bots?

[spaman7]

Nice update bro. Thanks

[fablet]

Very well written, support!