Bbw Cheating Novels & Stories

Alyssa Lambert, the only daughter of the world's wealthiest family, falls in love with Justin Fuller, a poor man whose company went bankrupt and is burdened with billions in debt. In the third year of concealing her identity to stay by his side, Justin finally pays off all his debts, starts a new company, and makes his debut on the Nova Exchange. As Alyssa watches his confident figure on stage, she thinks it's time to reveal her true identity. When she arrives outside the private room booked for the celebratory banquet, she happens to overhear the lively chatter inside. "Justin, Alyssa has faithfully stayed by your side for three years and was even willing to live in a basement with you. Now that you've paid off your debts and the company is publicly listed, isn't it time to propose to her?" "Yeah! When the company was just starting up, and you had no money to hire people, Alyssa practically split herself into three and only slept four hours a day. She even took the initiative with every difficult deal. Where else would you be able to find such a great girlfriend? You'd better marry her soon!" Alyssa's hand freezes on the doorknob, and she feels a wave of unease creep over her. She had hinted about marriage before, but each time, Justin dodged the question by saying he still couldn't provide her with a good life. Now that the company went public, would he… finally bring up the topic of marriage? "I haven't forgotten the kindness Aly has shown me these past three years. I also believed she was the one for me, but…" Justin leans back on the couch with a glowing cigarette between his fingers. Everyone's gaze is fixed on him, while outside the door, Alyssa feels her heart skip a beat. "Claudia is back."

My boyfriend, Simon Carver, was a man with very strong boundaries. For three years, he never let me go to his place. He said it was his private territory. He never let me touch his phone, not even to check the time. Even at gatherings with friends, he always seated me farthest away from him. I always thought he simply wasn't used to intimacy. Then, on the eve of our wedding, I received his shared location. I thought he had finally decided to let me get closer, so I followed the location and went to his home for the first time. The door wasn't locked. In the living room, a woman was wearing his oversized T-shirt like pajamas, her pale legs resting across his lap as she whined for him to massage her. When he saw me, surprise flashed through Simon's eyes. Then he returned to his usual indifference. "Why are you here? "That location was meant for Ives. I was in a rush and picked the wrong person. "Maren, you need to give me some private space too. Don't see one shared location and come rushing over like a dog that smelled a bone, desperate to check up on me." I found it funny. He was intimate with another woman, yet he turned around and asked his fiancee for private space. I didn't say anything else. I just lowered my head and accepted the out-of-state transfer notice from my boss. Since he thought I was standing too close, I would step farther away. Far enough that his world would never have me in it again.

In the seventh year of my long-distance relationship with my girlfriend Quinn Summers, I quit my job without telling her and traveled more than six-hundred miles to Oceanton. I only wanted to surprise her and ask her to marry me. When the receptionist heard I was looking for Quinn, her expression slightly shifted. "Our CEO Ms. Summers is still in a meeting. Please wait a moment." I was surprised. Quinn had never told me she had been promoted. During our video call last week, she had even complained about how stressful work was and how far away a promotion felt. When I turned around, I heard the receptionist whispering to her coworker. "So… This is the guy Ms. Summers is keeping on the side? Seriously, he has some nerve, coming all the way to the company." "If Mr. Gomez finds out Ms. Summers is cheating during their marriage, this is going to be very bad." I was about to turn back and tell them they had the wrong person. Quinn was not married, and I was her real boyfriend of ten years. But before I could speak, a man in a black suit walked in from the revolving door. The receptionists immediately fell silent and greeted him with deep respect. "Mr. Gomez." The man was on the phone, his voice low and gentle. "Honey, I'm downstairs. You must come with me to your prenatal checkup today!" A clear female voice came through the phone, agonizingly sweet. "I know, honey. The meeting's almost over. Wait for me at the guest lounge." I had listened to that voice for seven years. I knew it far too well. It was my girlfriend, Quinn.

The first time I have an affair, it's with my wife, Josephine Yates' best friend, Lydia Bennett. When Josephine catches us red-handed in bed, I'm in the middle of enjoying myself, my cheeks insanely flushed. Josephine gets into a huge fight with Lydia afterward. Then, she proceeds to drink her sorrows away that night before choosing to forgive me. After we've patched things up, we grow even more lovey-dovey than when we first got married. In fact, we're known as the golden couple who are envied by all. That is, when Josephine catches me cheating on her again on our tenth year anniversary. This time, I'm sleeping with Victoria Fairfax, the senior whom Josephine admires and respects the most. Josephine is so furious that she almost suffers from a seizure on the spot. Having gone batshit crazy, she decides to commit joint suicide with Victoria. I can only sigh before pulling her into my arms. "This is my last time doing this. I promise that you're the only one I want to be with for the rest of my life." Josephine is in so much pain and agony that she's on the brink of despair. Still, she believes my words and treats me even better now. She showers me with lavish gifts, be it luxury watches, unique custom-fitted apparel, or limited-edition racing cars. As long as she can afford it, she'll strive to give me the best. Some people call me a freeloading husband. That night, Josephine makes sure that those people have vanished off the face of the earth. When I tell Josephine that I don't want children, she gets her tubes tied immediately. Everyone praises Josephine for being devoted. They also claim that I've married the right woman. I just smile and nod. "I've used up all of my luck to meet Josephine in my life." But on Josephine's 34th birthday, she spies a paternity test report on my desk. That's when she suffers from a complete mental breakdown. The child is mine, and yet she's never given birth before.

In order to take care of my wife, Mildred Dale, who kept going into lunatic episodes thanks to the side effects of a car crash, I spent all of my assets and ten years of my life taking care of her. Whenever Mildred went into an episode, she'd hurl everything she could get her hands on at me. At the same time, she'd scratch every inch of my body with her nails. But when she sobered up, she'd hug me while wailing at the top of her lungs. All of my friends advised me to file for a divorce, yet I'd always remember the fact that Mildred had pushed me from the incoming car and hit her head, resulting in her current condition. But everything changed when Mildred beat me up to the point that I sustained grievous injuries. Heck, my soul was already floating near the ceiling at that time. That was when I saw Mildred arranging her childhood friend Hank Weaver's collar carefully. "Why are you crying? He's already dead. Shouldn't we celebrate this occasion instead? "But my heart breaks for you, Mildred. You've pretended to be a lunatic for ten whole years just to swindle every cent out of his account!" Mildred kissed Hank on the lips. Then, she uttered icily, "I've been enduring that cowardly fool for ten long years. Now, I no longer have to be with him." It turns out that Mildred and Hank had painstakingly staged the car accident just so they could put on such a perfect act. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Mildred is diagnosed with mental health issues.

After seven years of marriage, my wife had rarely asked me to accompany her back to her parents' home. She always said she didn't want me stepping into that cramped, crowded little house and feeling wronged. This year, during the New Year, I happened to be in the city where my in-laws lived for a business trip. By chance, I came across a local video online. It was posted by a resident of an upscale neighborhood. "Mom, Dad, my beloved wife and son—thank you for giving an orphan like me a complete and happy life." The elderly couple in the video were dressed in the same high-end outfits I had bought for my in-laws. I thought of how frugal they had always been, how they lived simply and spared every penny. A decision formed in my mind: tomorrow, I would buy them a place in that very neighborhood, in their name, so they could enjoy a comfortable retirement. It would be my small act of filial piety. But the next day, the moment I stepped into the residential complex, I saw my in-laws coming downstairs—with my wife and a child. Could it be that my wife had secretly bought them an apartment? I pressed my lips together, about to step forward, when a man rushed over and caught my father-in-law just as he nearly stumbled. "Dad, careful now." My footsteps froze. My wife was an only child. I had never heard of any foster relatives. He called my father-in-law "Dad." Then… who was I?

During Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law hinted for the umpteenth time that she wanted a grandchild. However, my husband, Zachary Cole, who had insisted on staying child-free in the past decade, only smiled and filled her plate. After dinner, he slipped onto the balcony. "There, there. Daddy will come see you on New Year's Day," he whispered. I stood in the corner of the living room with a glass of water in my hand, feeling cold as the words sank in. I stepped forward and forced a playful tone. "I just heard you say 'Daddy.' Got a secret kid stashed somewhere?" He rubbed his nose, his voice stiff. "You must've misheard. That's… just a friend's kid." My heart sank. I'd been married to him for a decade, so I knew exactly what he looked like when he was lying.

I accidentally saw a notification pop up on my husband’s phone saying that an automatic transfer had been completed when I was using it for navigation. Immediately after that, his ex-girlfriend, Wanda Blake, sent him a message on WhatsApp: [I’ve received this month’s 10,000 dollars for child support. Thank you, Koah. I don't know what I would have done without you.] I froze. “Child support? “Koah, you told me that the money you send every month was for medical expenses for your mother’s treatment!” Koah Quinn’s expression stiffened as he explained, “Honey, don’t misunderstand. I just felt that life has become really hard for her because she’s a woman raising a child on her own. Her ex-husband refuses to pay child support, so I wanted to help her out…” I touched the old watch on my wrist. The one I had not replaced in years to save money, and felt extremely disappointed. “Your monthly salary is only 6,000 dollars. Where did you get so much money to send her?” He was silent for some time before finally admitting. “I used the money we had set aside for the new house’s downpayment.” I was stunned. He had taken the money my parents had scrimped and saved for decades for me as downpayment for a home and then transferred it to his ex-girlfriend as child support.

After my father’s death, I decided to divorce my husband, Captain Marcus Hale, and stay in Pine Ridge Village forever. On the first day, I tricked Marcus into signing the divorce papers. On the fifth day, I handed in my resignation to my old unit at Fort Haven. On the seventh day, I cooked a full table of food and said farewell to all my friends. Frowning, Marcus accused me of making the very meal his childhood sweetheart, Julia Summers, hated. I stood up and raised my glass to toast her. From this day on, Marcus and I would have nothing more to do with each other. Half a month later, I saw Marcus returning from a mission in Pine Ridge Village. Only this time, the country evening breeze brought tears to his eyes.

The afternoon my critical condition notice was issued, Silas Stenson popped a bottle of champagne in the lab. On social media, a photo showed him and Wynter Keller standing side by side in the golden sunset, their white coats bathed in light. The caption read only one line—'Ten years—it finally worked.' Everyone said he was devoted, that he'd spent ten sleepless years trying to save me. When the nurse, her eyes red, showed it to me on her phone, I was staring at the wavering lines on the monitor. No one knew that the drug had already been perfected a year ago. And I was the only candidate who wasn't allowed to receive it.