Chapter 1My Wife is a Nude Model

I've always wondered if professional figure models experience physical reactions during their work. My wife's experience taught me that it can happen, but they have special techniques to manage it.

My name is James Wilson. Despite my average looks, I managed to marry a beautiful model!

The first time I saw my wife was when she was working as a car show model. Her long legs in black stockings immediately caught my eye. My gaze traveled up her short skirt, which barely contained her shapely behind, making me swallow hard. Further up was her slim waist and her chest straining against the thin straps of her top. Suddenly, she bent down, covering her chest with her hand, and flashed me a sweet smile.

In that instant, my heart melted!

With sheer persistence and three months of relentless pursuit, I finally won her over.

In my mind, a wife as beautiful as her shouldn't be on display for others to see, so I persuaded her to change jobs.

She understood my jealousy and quickly resigned after we got married.

But on the third day after she quit, I suddenly received several photos in my email.

"Look how wild your wife really is!" the message read.

When I opened them, the photos were dimly lit. They showed a woman with a curvaceous figure, her body covered in body paint, swaying seductively on stage.

But something seemed off about her state. Her eyes were unfocused, her legs were pressed together, and her hands were roaming over sensitive parts of her body.

It didn't look like she was walking a runway; it looked more like she was in heat!

The photos were like a flipbook, showing a sequence of events.

Suddenly, a man appeared and gave her bottom a hard slap, leaving a clear handprint.

Seeing this, my blood instantly rushed to my head!

Was that my wife?!

Besides the familiar figure, there was a birthmark on her rear that I would never mistake!

My whole body trembled, my teeth clenched, and the veins in my hands bulged as I nearly crushed my phone.

What the hell was going on?

Who sent these photos?

Were they trying to blackmail me, or just mess with my head?

I tried asking, and the sender quickly replied: "Nude models always release their tension before going on stage to avoid physiological reactions. They drain every last bit of desire! Your wife was really wild on stage today! What's wrong, did you two have an unsatisfying night?"

Nude model?

My first instinct was to curse back. My wife was just a regular model, and she had already quit. She wasn't that kind of woman!

But just as I had typed out a long angry response, I suddenly remembered what happened last night.

Last night, my wife had indeed called me, telling me to wash up and wait for her in bed.

But the project I was responsible for suddenly had issues, and I worked overtime until late at night. When I got home, she was still very proactive, but I had neither the mood nor the energy to do anything with her...

Soon after, I received another email.

"Your wife has another show tomorrow. She'll definitely have needs tonight, so perform well!"

After that, no matter how many emails I sent, the sender didn't reply.

With a complicated mood, I left work early and waited for her at home.

I had even downloaded the photos, ready to confront Olivia.

"Honey, come give me a massage. I'm exhausted..." Olivia complained as soon as she entered the door. She kicked off her high heels, sat on the couch, and put her legs on my lap.

Looking at those round thighs wrapped in black stockings, I couldn't help but think of the content in the photos. I pushed her away without any tenderness.

Olivia pouted, looking innocent and wronged.

"Honey, what's wrong? Didn't I listen to you and quit my job? I went to several job interviews today, my legs are so tired!"

I stared at her intently: "You really went for interviews?"

Olivia stretched lazily, revealing a strip of her flat, white belly: "Why would I lie to you? Hurry up and massage my legs, I'm so tired. I want to go to bed early tonight..."

As she spoke, she yawned.

Seeing her exhausted face, which didn't seem fake, I began to have doubts.

Did I get it wrong?

I took a deep breath and reached into her clothes, but she slapped my hand away.

"Stop it, I'm really too tired! If you want to do it, wait until tomorrow!"

She must have been really exhausted because after I massaged her legs for a bit, she started snoring lightly.

I gritted my teeth and, following her thigh, gently lifted her skirt...