I nodded subconsciously. My wife's face flushed crimson, but she smiled. I could tell this smile was genuine, not the least bit forced.
My wife pushed the box closer to me, took a gentle step back, and then slowly knelt at my feet.
Her action startled me. Instinctively, I reached out to help her up, but she avoided my hand. Gazing into my eyes, she said, "Honey, I know I was too conservative before. In our intimate life, you were always the one accommodating me."
"No, you're overthinking it. How could that be?" I replied.
My wife shook her head and continued, "I've thought it over these past few days. We're so young; how can we waste such good times? When we're old, we won't be able to play even if we want to."
She smoothed the stray hairs by her ear and went on, "I've talked a lot with my close friend these past few days and realized how boring I've been. With a wife like me, you must have been so bored."
"Nannan, I don't care about those things," I hurriedly answered.
My wife shook her head again. "But I care. Honey, I love you. I'm not good at expressing it usually, but I truly love you deeply. I can't let you keep accommodating me forever. I want to make you happy."
"Actually, honey, you don't need to think I'm forcing myself or feeling wronged. At first, I just wanted to make you happy. But through my research these past few days and talking with my friend, I discovered I actually have a strange interest in these things too." As she said this, her face grew even redder.
Before I could speak, she continued, "I'm sorry, though. I can't accept too much right now. After picking and choosing, these three are all I can handle for now. There are others I'm very interested in but don't dare to try yet. But I will gradually accept them. Give me some time, okay?"
Looking at my wife, I actually felt a pang of heartache. I sat on the edge of the bed, gently stroking her beautiful hair, and said, "Nannan, you know I would never force you to do anything you don't want to do."
My wife nodded vigorously. "I know, honey. This is all voluntary. Before, my mind was always on work. From now on, I want to live for us. I want our life to be full of passion."
My wife and I gazed at each other. For a moment, the atmosphere felt somewhat strange.
"Honey, all changes start tonight. Tonight, don't think of me as your wife, okay?" my wife suddenly said with firm resolve.
I looked at her, somewhat confused. But she suddenly straightened her posture, pulled my head close to hers, then brought her lips to my ear and whispered softly, "Honey, tonight, just think of me as a cheap slut, a whore. Do whatever you want with me. I want to show you my sluttiest side without holding anything back."
My wife's words sent my blood racing. Married for six years, she had always been conservative, never saying such explicit things.
I felt like I was about to lose all reason. My cock was incredibly hard, more stimulating than on our wedding night.
At this moment, lust surged through me. I struggled to maintain the last shred of sanity, straightened up, and stared into my wife's eyes. Her face was flushed, but her gaze was unprecedentedly firm. I was sure she was serious.
Perhaps driven by lust, I blurted out, "Slut!"
My wife's breathing immediately became heavy. Kneeling there earnestly, she replied, "I'm here."
At that moment, all my reason crumbled. My engorged lower body commanded my actions. I stood before my wife. Before I could speak, she had already slowly pulled down my underwear. My dark, hard cock stood tall and erect before her eyes.
My wife adjusted her kneeling posture slightly, extended her delicate little hand, grabbed my cock, and guided it into her mouth.
In six years of marriage, the times my wife had given me oral could be counted on one hand. Only when she was extremely aroused would she possibly do it, and even then, it would end after a few perfunctory strokes.
But now, she was incredibly earnest. With one hand slowly stroking the base, she gently took me in and out with her small mouth.
My wife's oral skills were extremely inexperienced. My cock scraped against her teeth several times, making me gasp in pain.
My wife noticed the problem too. Slowly releasing my cock, she looked at me apologetically and whispered, "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to."
I ruffled her beautiful hair and comforted her, "It's okay, Nannan. Take your time practicing. I'm willing to be your guinea pig."
My wife smiled shyly, her face crimson, and said, "We agreed you wouldn't treat me as your wife tonight. Don't call me Nannan."
"What should I call you then?" I asked.
My wife's face turned even redder. She lowered her head slightly, avoiding my gaze, and answered in a barely audible voice, "Call me slut... slutty bitch... horny whore..."
Though her voice was soft, it rang in my ears like thunder. My reason was destined to be utterly destroyed by my wife tonight.
I took a deep breath. At a time like this, with my wife already letting go, what was holding me back?
If we're going to play, let's play to the fullest.
Setting aside all reservations, all my usual lewd thoughts surfaced completely. Biological instinct was fully ignited. I grabbed my rock-hard, almost bursting cock, waved it before my wife's eyes, and said, "Slut, tell me, what is this?"
My wife didn't expect this question. She was slightly stunned but still answered, "It's... it's... honey's treasure."
"Wrong. Say it again," I said sternly.
"Then... that's... honey's cock?" my wife answered.
"Wrong. Say it again!" I denied once more.
My wife looked at me, her face growing redder. I knew she understood the answer I wanted.
Sure enough, after a moment's hesitation, she stammered out, "It's... it's... a... a... cock." For a wife who had never sworn before, being able to say these two words was groundbreaking. Indeed, as soon as she finished, she buried her head deeply, her body trembling slightly.
By now, I was already beyond caring. Grabbing her beautiful hair, I lifted her head, forcing her to look directly at my cock, and continued asking, "What is a cock for?"
This time, my wife didn't beat around the bush. Her breathing just grew heavier as she said in a trembling voice, "For... for fucking me..."
"Fucking you where?" I pressed on.
My wife swallowed hard, her hands clenched tightly, her body trembling slightly. "Fucking my... my... pussy."
Although I knew this was the limit of what my wife could say, I had already lost all reason. Tonight, I would indulge completely. "Where is your pussy?" I asked. I didn't know when my voice had started to become hoarse.
Subconsciously, my wife parted her legs slightly. Pointing with a hand clenched so tight it was white to the space between her legs, she answered, "Here."
Only then did I see clearly. The black stockings my wife was wearing were actually crotchless.
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