Novel & Cerita Cerita Dewasa Istriku Selingkuh

He was no doubt the man from the escort’s picture, but aside the fact that he’d snapped an intimate photo with the woman my husband cheated with, of course I didn’t know him. “No I don’t!” I snapped at Rochelle, getting exasperated. “Who is he? What are you not telling me?” She giggled a bit, looking even more vague. “There’s an article about him in the blogs, that he’d gotten a stripper pregnant, so….” She shook her head and straightened up. “Shoot!” it’s almost time for the anniversary gala. Just lets get ready, I promise we’d talk about this when we get back –” Again, that twinkle in her eyes.

“Getting your holes wrecked by your stepson while your husband is working. Does Jimmy know what a dirty cumrag his wife is?” Cedrick laughed darkly and fucked me even harder. “Of course he doesn’t. She’s been pretending to be a good wife while secretly craving young cock behind his back.” The degrading words pushed me over the edge. I came violently around Cedrick’s pounding cock, my pussy squirting all over his abs as my walls spasmed and milked him. But he didn’t slow down. He kept railing me through my orgasm until he buried himself to the hilt and exploded.

I'm Joyce, a 42-year-old housewife, and I have a secret. No, I'm not having an affair or embezzling money from my husband's company. My secret is that I'm a hotwife. I love fucking strangers. The thrill of the unknown, the excitement of the forbidden, it sets my pussy on fire like nothing else. It all started a few years ago. My husband, Mark, and I had been married for over a decade, and our sex life had become routine. We'd fuck on weekends, missionary style, with the lights off. It was functional, but it wasn't exciting. I craved more.

"I can't say that I really regret anything that's happened. Step by step it's been unbelievably exciting. Let me explain what happened. I am in my late forties and Alexis, my wife of 18 years marriage, is the same age. She is tall, fairly slim, with brown eyes and hair, smallish breasts, and with lots of light brown pubic hair. Our sex life has been drab to say the least and as our sex has dropped off, I've tried to find new ways to excite her. I have never been adulterous and, to my knowlege, nor has she, although there have been times when she's disappeared for hours on end, seen movies 'by herself', that sort of thing, but rarely. She hasn't been interested in adult films, or 'devices' li

Then, the man's face appeared—he was slapping the woman's behind and boasting smugly, "Do you want to drain me completely?" I was stunned; my entire body went rigid. The man in the video was my husband, Max, who was supposed to be on a business trip in North City! It felt like a bolt from the blue, completely paralyzing my ability to think. I forced myself to calm down and watched the video several times. Eventually, I was certain it wasn't doctored. Even the timestamp in the top right corner showed tonight's date, just minutes ago. This means that my husband, Max Jennings, was using his business trip as a cover to cheat on me with his mistress in a hotel!

I replied. “Andrea, what do you mean doing something behind your back?” I pressed both of my lips together then roamed my eyes around to check if someone was near us. “He’s married already. Calvin made me his mistress without me realizing it, he fcking made me a stupid dumbass college girl.” I said. Her eyes widened. “You must be lying right now.” She replied, I shook my head at her. “I’m not, it’s true you can ask him yourself,” I said. “But please don’t tell others what I had with Calvin, no one knows about that except you. I’m begging you, I'm trying my best to move on with my life right now.”

Tristan turned to face me curiously, arching his brows as he questioned, ''How? ''I also got cheated on,'' I began to explain my experience, remembering all the painful memories that had happened, ''My husband framed me for my father's murder. And then he got married to my stepsister after throwing our divorce papers in my face. I had to keep my pregnancy away from him, and even after I had my babies in prison,'' ''Woww…'' Tristan's eyes widened in surprise at my story, and I thought he felt more pity for me than I did. ''You were once married? And you also have a baby?''

I swallowed and tasted bile. “It was… addictive,” she continued. “Seeing what my perfect family was doing when I wasn’t around.” “You’re sick,” I said. The words barely made it out thin and useless. Her eyes snapped to me. Cold sharp. “And you’re not?” she said. She tilted her head the way she used to when I broke curfew as a teenager. “You fucked my husband in my bed. In the pool house. In the laundry room, with the dryer running so no one would hear you. Don’t pretend now, Lila. You wanted it just as much as he did.”

“I managed to get some shares back today. It’s not much, but we’re fighting this.” But there was no answer from him, only silence. I walked toward our bedroom, unbuttoning my blouse. Maybe I could surprise him with the good news. The door was slightly open. I pushed it gently… and froze. My husband was bent over the bed, pants around his ankles, fucking one of those old rich widows from his social circle. She was moaning loudly as he thrust into her from behind, gripping her hips. My stomach dropped. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just quietly closed the door and walked away.

"I know, you feel disgusted when he touches you. Sorry for ruining the mood. I'll stop talking about him. Let's go to the window. Raise your leg higher..." This was the wife I had shared a bed with for three years. She locked me in a 120-degree warm room to torture me, then committed adultery with her own brother-in-law in broad daylight. She told me she wanted to put romance aside, but she then bloomed freely in the arms of another man. I smiled bitterly, tears streaming down my face. The phone couldn't withstand the high temperature and shut down by itself, and the video call ended. However, their voices still lingered in my mind.