Amateur Wife First Lesbian Novels & Stories

There was even once when a shameless homewrecker came into their house. After that incident, she forgave her husband, but they had since become estranged. She even had early onset of menopause, and could only find solace in Xavia's performances. She then became Xavia's friend after attending the latter's performances often. Amber had overheard from her husband yesterday that the company that had wanted to cooperate with them was founded by the homewrecker. Hence, an idea dawned on her. She felt that she should introduce a man to Chloe. It would help preserve Xavia's position as the first wife and could also move the homewrecker to tears.

A LOVING HUSBAND AND A BIRTHDAY PRESENT 1 I knew exactly what my wife needed for her birthday. For years I had watched Elena, my beloved wife, lose herself in gay p**n. The first time I caught her, she was on our bed with her legs spread obscenely wide, three fingers buried deep in her soaked pussy while she pinched and pulled her heavy tits. On the screen, a muscular top was destroying a younger guy’s ass in a brutal doggy-style, the bottom moaning like a cheap slut, begging to be fucked to stupor.

I removed my lips from hers and pushed her backward, she laughed and arranged her hair "Are you insane?, do you know what my husband will do to you if he finds out a woman kissed his dear wife?" I threatened "then I will probably add your husband's name to my wishlist or would I say death list," she said my senses arrived with speed, so I quickly smiled and acted like nothing ever happened "I'm sorry, please let's be professional" I pleaded "I like that sense of humility, I'm a lesbian though and I couldn't help it when my urge pushed me into kissing that tender lips of yours. But as you said, let's get down to business" she said

The lady kicked her hard several times, screaming as she lashed out, "Carmen Adams, was it? You're a popular rising actress, right? The wife of the young master of the Stephenson Family, right? You slutty little c*nt! How dare you seduce my husband?! How dare you!"

“Who is your real wife, Gabriel?” ~ Gabriel blinked, as if the question punched the air out of him. “Celina,” he said softly, almost a plea. “Please, let’s not do this here.” She stepped back, her voice rising, shaky but firm. “Answer me!.” “I’m your husband,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “That’s the only truth that matters right now.” She let out a bitter laugh. “That’s not an answer, Gabriel. That’s a deflection. I’ve seen the photos. The gala. The magazine article. ‘Power couple,’ right? Mr. and Mrs. Gabriel Reyes.”

Without a word, my mother, Jane, set her wine glass down with a sharp clink. My father, Robert, sneered and dabbed the corners of his mouth with quiet elegance. “Catherine, that’s an interesting way to put in. Since when does putting on a show mean dragging her husband’s dignity through the mud? Haven’t you seen the entertainment headlines recently? “We haven’t exactly come out of this unscathed, have we? “She even skipped this meal and had dinner with a young actor. Who is she trying to embarrass?” Catherine’s face instantly turned deathly pale.

" Belle laughed off the sudden change of mood. She noticed that Liam's toys were already arranged, and the dishes were washed. Maybe it was Aubrey. "I'm sending you an article right now. I thought you two were getting back together, so I was singing his praises, but what is he doing kissing some socialite at the airport in this country?" Belle opened the link Bonnie sent. No, Claudia Yvette is not just a socialite. In the photo, there is no denying that the young heiress is kissing someone no other than her own husband, Nikolai Laurent.

The woman leaves in a huff. I finish making Max’s breakfast and am packing his lunch when he comes into the kitchen. In a polite voice, I say, “She was pretty.” Max stops and looks at me, “Is that the secret? You’re a lesbian? That explains why you haven’t thrown yourself at me and why you’re such a bad kisser.”

I give relationship advice online, helping the lovesick and heartbroken work through their problems. One night a young man called into my livestream. A wealthy woman had been keeping him for seven years. Now he wanted to go home and get married, but she'd threatened to kill herself if he left. I gave him the standard advice. "You want out? Go to her husband. Tell him the truth. Give everything back." Three days later a property deed arrived, along with dozens of luxury-car keys and more than a hundred designer bags. Then my phone lit up with a transfer notification. Eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The note read: "Thanks for the advice. Returning everything to its rightful own

I stood at the door of the church chapel and watched my wife, Olivia Spencer, lean into the arms of another man. That man was my younger brother, David Spencer. David complained, “This rosary really digs into the skin.” “Then, take it off for me.” Olivia had always treasured her rosary. She would not even let me touch it. Yet, my brother was teasingly lifting it between his lips and pulling it from her neck. He tossed it to the floor like it was worthless.