Justin Davis and Betty Moore

Before we dive into the story, it's important to clarify that this narrative unfolds in a parallel universe. This is not our reality. The conflicts, economic conditions, and social relationships described are entirely fictional. Please do not associate them with actual events or settings.

My name is Justin Davis, and I'm a 35-year-old TV reporter. Thanks to my hard work and willingness to take risks, I've managed to build a pretty solid foundation for myself.

Over the years as a journalist, I've had my fair share of close calls. For instance, I've gone undercover to expose illegal coal and brick kilns, and I've ventured deep into secluded forests to capture footage of rampant illegal logging.

The most dangerous assignment was probably when I filmed illegal logging activities at a remote site deep in the woods, over sixty miles from the nearest sign of civilization. I ended up being discovered by the poachers and had to make a harrowing sixty-mile escape through the wilderness, nearly getting caught. If they had caught me, I might have ended up dead without anyone ever knowing.

I wandered through the forest for three days and nights, lost, without water or food, and close to collapsing. Luckily, an old man gathering mushrooms and pine nuts found and saved me. Looking back, it still sends shivers down my spine.

But, of course, the risks came with rewards—my salary and bonuses were nothing to scoff at.

Hard work pays off, and now I have a prosperous family and a beautiful wife, Betty Moore. Gentle as water, she's 28 years old and truly lives up to her name with her looks, demeanor, and personality that could captivate any man's heart.

She has a much easier job than mine, teaching middle school language arts and working part-time as a school counselor. Though her salary isn't as high as mine, she's definitely part of the white-collar class.

Standing at about 5 feet 6 inches tall with a slim figure, her regular yoga practice keeps her in fantastic shape—stunning yet not flashy, with every movement exuding grace.

What really turns heads, though, is Betty's 32E bust—full but not overwhelmingly so, perfectly proportioned to her frame. She resembles the Japanese actress Miyu Kosaka in many ways.

Walking down the street, she catches many an eye, with most glances lingering not just on her face but more so on her chest. Being a teacher, she dresses conservatively, yet she still manages to be the crush of many adolescent boys at her school, who often send her anonymous love letters.

These kids, clueless about the ways of the world, always give us a good laugh when she tells me about it. We met during a simple interview at her school, where I was producing a documentary on youth.

Our relationship blossomed from colleagues to friends to lovers, and eventually, we got married.

I'm seven years her senior, but we've always found plenty to talk about. We've been married for five years now; she was just 23 and fresh out of college when we tied the knot, and I was 30.

Betty is quite traditional, so even though she dated a bit in college, she never went beyond kissing and holding hands, preserving her virginity until our wedding night.

Even while we were dating, she never stayed out past 10:00 PM; any later, and her parents—my in-laws—would be on the phone, urging her to come home. Raised in such a disciplined environment, I'm proud, and maybe a bit boastful, to say that I was her first.

I was genuinely surprised to discover that my wife was the kind of woman many men dream of—a lady in the streets but a firecracker in the sheets. I was her first, but she wasn't my first.

On our wedding night, when we consummated our marriage, she cried beneath me. Seeing the faint red stains on the blanket, all I could do was return her vulnerability with passionate love.

After that first night, Betty really opened up. She was willing to try anything I suggested, from oral to different positions, although she was initially awkward. Over time, under my gentle guidance, she became more adept, making our intimate moments truly tender. She's incredibly obedient in bed, doing whatever I ask without hesitation.

However, she's quite reserved with her moans, never one to be loud or use crude language during our moments together.

The only regret is that we haven't been able to have children. We've both been tested, and the issue lies with me. My sperm motility is too low to conceive naturally.

Since then, we've tried everything from Western medicine to traditional remedies, but nothing has improved. It's my biggest regret.

Eventually, word got out about my infertility, and it became a hot topic among friends, family, and colleagues. Most were supportive, but a few mocked me behind my back.

That period was incredibly stressful, but Betty was my rock, helping me through the psychological struggle. She never wavered in her support, which has been my greatest comfort and motivation to keep pushing forward.

Since then, I've thrown myself into my work. Physically I might be lacking, but I refuse to be a failure in my career or personal endeavors.

Betty once suggested quietly trying artificial insemination to silence the gossip, but the thought of her carrying a child from an anonymous donor's sperm was too much for me. The idea felt repulsive, so I decided against it, preferring to face the pressure rather than have her go through that.

As for the idea of using a sperm donor, I can't even consider it. If I can't accept a clinical procedure, how could I accept that? So, we've prepared ourselves for the possibility of remaining childless, a decision that, while difficult, we are coming to terms with.

Since my job often requires me to travel, my wife spends most of her time alone at home. Being away, I inevitably face the teasing from colleagues who joke about leaving a beautiful wife like mine by herself. They ask if I'm not worried. I just laugh off these comments.

I trust my wife. Not only do I know her character well, but my professional instincts as a seasoned journalist, who often works undercover, give me an edge. My skills in reading people and adapting on the fly are on par with any detective or private investigator. Plus, I'm well-versed in various surveillance and covert recording techniques, so I've got everything under control.

I'm not ashamed to admit that after learning about my illness, my psyche took a hit, and I became somewhat paranoid. I actually monitored my wife for a while, including tapping her phone and installing cameras at home. Despite many men chasing after her and flirting with her, she consistently turned them down, sometimes even getting emotional with them. Gradually, I came to trust Betty completely.

However, there's still a lingering regret. Perhaps it's a psychological issue, but after learning about my illness, every time after being intimate with my wife, seeing the thick semen flow out of her, a voice in my head would mockingly say: "Is this even semen? It looks like it, but it's just useless sperm that can't get a woman pregnant."

This inner conflict and shadow have tormented me, leading to a noticeable decline in my sexual function. Sometimes I experience premature ejaculation, other times I lose strength midway. I've sought treatment at hospitals.

The male doctor told me that my issues are psychological, not physical, and that they can only be managed through mental adjustments, not medication. My life seemed to hit rock bottom during that period. When we first got married, I could go up to five times in one night, leaving Betty sore and bedridden the next day. Now, I distract myself with work to numb my mind.

Betty has tried everything in bed to help me, from sexy lingerie to other tactics, but it hasn't made much of a difference. Many nights, I've seen Betty secretly satisfying herself, yet she shows no signs or intentions of infidelity, which is both my greatest relief and my biggest regret.

Unexpectedly, my illness led to changes in my personality and psyche, which I only realized later. But that's a story for another time.

Everything seemed set to continue this way until I volunteered to go to a war-torn country in Asia as a war correspondent. This unique assignment and journey would end up completely changing my life and family situation...