Bbw Cheating Novels & Stories

The first time I found out that Jessica Blake was cheating on me was in our own bedroom. I was young and hot-headed, and I wanted a divorce on the spot. She cried and said she'd gotten drunk and mistaken the guy for me. She fell to her knees, begging me to forgive her. "If you divorce me, I'll jump from this window right now." That one line softened my heart for the next five years. During those years, she was gentle and caring, as if that night had never happened. Everyone could see it—Jessica loved me so much she was willing to die for me. But then came her mother's 60th birthday party. Out of nowhere, my mother-in-law, Linda, asked her, "Jess, where's my grandson? Why didn't he come?" I was confused. I thought she was just having a moment, so I smiled and said, "Mom, you forgot—Jess's due date is still two months away." Linda glanced at me calmly and murmured, "Oh… so you still don't know." My heart sank. I looked over at Jessica instinctively. She quietly put down her fork, as if she were talking about something as ordinary as the weather. "Actually, I have a son. He's five years old."

Five years ago, my junior made a mistake in the experiment, resulting in an explosion in the lab. In an effort to save my childhood friend, Andrew, I suffered severe burns to one side of my face and was falsely accused as the culprit. Just like that, I became the target of everyone's anger. Only Andrew stood by me, promising, "I love you for who you are, not your appearance. I'll always be there to protect you." But on our wedding day, he vanished without a trace. My mother, suffering from heart disease and barely clinging to life, wanted to see Andrew. When I asked him to come, he replied impatiently, "Are you using such a lame excuse to meet me? Don't you have any shame? Every time I look at your face, I feel disgusting." I pleaded desperately, but he calmly hung up. "Do you think I'm your servant? You can't just summon me whenever you want. Just because you saved me once doesn't mean you can blackmail me for life." My mother died without peace. The junior who slandered me back then later posted a photo on social media, showing a man lifting her effortlessly. Their poses were intimate, highlighting the underlying affection. Her captions read: [It's all his fault for tiring me out during the day. I almost missed out on this beautiful ocean. When you're in love, all is clear to see. I mentioned wanting to go to Belmar Island, and he flew me around the world for it.] I was utterly heartbroken, so I texted him: [Let's break up…]

Carl Anderson doesn't show up for our engagement party. I finally find him in a bar's private room after night has fallen. "I only think of her as a sister. Who would've expected her to want to latch onto me like that? There's no way I'll marry her in this lifetime!" He downs his drink. Later, when he and Angela Moran get married, he tells his friends to stop me at the entrance. He's afraid I'll crash his wedding and ruin it. "Keep an eye on Iris, guys. Don't let her crash the wedding!" he says. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, I show up with Henry Moran. "Don't even dream of stepping in there, Iris!" Carl looks at me warily. "You're so rude! You have to call her Aunt Iris now!" Angela greets me warmly and leads me inside.

When the earthquake struck, Pierse Jones instinctively shielded me with his body, taking the full brunt of the impact and suffering multiple fractures. In the hospital room, the girl in the next bed looked at me with envy and said, “Your husband didn’t even care about his own life to save you. He really loves you.” I forced a smile. “Yeah.” But just last night, after I had fallen asleep, he slipped into the bathroom, his voice soft and soothing as he spoke to someone else—his little mistress, “I’m fine, don’t cry. Be good.” “As long as I think of you, I’m not afraid of anything.” Pierse and I grew up together, from childhood sweethearts to each other’s first love. We had been together for ten years, admired by everyone as the perfect couple. No one knew he had a mistress on the side, a girl who looked just like me when I was eighteen.

For seven years, I love Cody Rummish, clinging to his promise—once his sister-in-law, Luna Briche, conceives, our ordeal ends, and we finally begin our married life. But reality betrays me. Just months after moving into his home, Cody slips into Luna's bedroom 88 times—starting with once a month, now nearly one or two visits daily. Every night, I sit in the downstairs living room, counting the minutes, clutching a flicker of unrealistic hope. As the sole heir after his twin brother's fatal plane crash, Cody inherits not just power and wealth but also, seamlessly, his brother's widow, Luna. After the 88th visit, Luna announces her pregnancy. But instead of Cody honoring his promise, a public declaration shatters me—he will formally marry Luna. I unravel, demanding answers. Silent, Cody locks me in the bedroom's walk-in closet. "Luna was trapped in an elevator for 30 minutes! She nearly died because of you! Stay here for five days. Feel her fear!" Only on the sixth morning does Cody casually open the door with a chuckle. "Alright, lesson learned. Time to apologize, right?" He finds only the stench of blood and my cold, lifeless body. He's killed the fiancée who's loved him for seven years.

On the day the true heiress and I swapped places, my childhood sweetheart, bound to me by a promise made in youth, gripped my hand before our families and declared, "I chose you, not your title." Anna Pedersen, tears brimming in her eyes, enveloped me in a trembling embrace. "Joanne, we'll always be family. I'd never take what's rightfully yours." Everyone assumed I'd turned misfortune into fortune. Though I lost my status as the Pedersen heiress, I gained a steadfast lover and a selfless sister. But three years after fate corrected itself, photos of Calvin Thomas escorting Anna to a prenatal checkup flooded the internet. When I confronted him, he exhaled a plume of smoke and said coolly, "Anna is my true betrothed. This is just setting things right. Why are you so worked up?" He seized my wrist and dragged our engraved engagement ring across the back of my hand, leaving a bloody gash. "This scar will remind you of the twenty years of life you stole. Your life and I belong to their rightful owner."

On the day I attend the centennial celebration of my alma mater, I encounter my first love, Victor Whitmore. After he delivers a speech as an alumni representative, he publicly presents me with a diamond ring. "Back then, you said you wanted to use your 'Wild Roses' design to make me a wedding ring. Now it's my turn to propose. Claire Webb, will you marry me?" The auditorium erupts in excitement. Everyone waits for me to nod tearfully in agreement. After all, I once pursued Victor with such passion that it shocked the entire school. However, everyone has forgotten something. Back then, I was accused of plagiarizing Emma Palmer's work for my graduation project. Victor knew the truth, yet he slandered me as the plagiarizer. At the press conference, as the brand representative, he announced that they would cease collaboration with me and called for me to be blacklisted across the industry. On the very day my reputation was ruined, I moved abroad. Now that I'm back, his close friend keeps advising me. "He's been waiting for you all these years. Even though you embarrassed him back then, you're still the one in his heart. "He even made a scene at the principal's office just to get your graduation certificate. Claire, he truly loves you."

In the second year of our marriage, which Brett Mason had secured through relentless means, he brought home his latest conquest—a stunning blonde. As the door swung shut, he ran his fingers through her silky hair, flashing me a smug, triumphant grin. "Wanna join us? You might learn a thing or two about not being such a dead fish." I could still recall how he once adored my hair, claiming that just stroking it would melt away his deepest worries. It turned out any woman could serve that purpose. In that instant, a profound sense of release washed over me. I retrieved the divorce agreement I'd stashed away in a drawer and handed it to him. "Sign it, and I'll make room for her." My days were numbered, and I had no intention of wasting what little time remained entangled in his resentment.

My wife, Sandra Wren, had suggested taking our daughter, Annie, to a childcare center, saying that it would be better for our daughter. I didn't think much of it and handed her a card. I went on a business trip for half a month. Watching the daily charges on my card, I felt nothing but satisfaction. Until my best friend suddenly sent me a video. The location tag was at the childcare center. "Dude. Why is your wife staying after class for 'extra lessons'? Is it more exciting in the classroom?" In the video, Sandra's lace underwear hung around her ankles. The floor was littered with used condoms. The tables in the childcare classroom creaked noisily. I immediately called her. On the phone, I could faintly hear her suppressed yet excited breathing. She said, slightly panting, "Honey, I'm flying a kite with Annie. Did you miss us?" I let out a cold laugh. "Yes. I missed you so much, I came back overnight. Which classroom are you in? I'll bring you condoms."

Calvin and I had been married for seven years. While packing up some clothes, I found a cheap lighter in the pocket of his jacket. Everything he wore, from the inside out, had been carefully chosen by me to highlight his refined taste and status. However, in that girl’s Twitter photos, he looked like a college boy, dressed in cheap clothes and wearing a digital watch that cost only a few dollars while kissing her. Using a throwaway account, I casually liked the post and commented, "A perfect match." Then, I turned to Calvin and said, "How did I never realize you had such a thing for bargains?"