Hotwife Novels & Stories

The moans fill your house the moment you open the front door. Your body reacts instinctively, unsure who is with her, how many there may be or in what way they are defiling your wife. In the month since your birthday surprise, she has taken her role of hotwife to an entirely new level. Over the last week you’ve come home to the sounds of her getting fucked and used on four different occasions. Each time you quietly snuck into the room, assumed your position on the floor and waited for permission to stroke your cock while you watched.

“Swallow, you disgusting toilet slut. And tell them why you’re here. Tell them what your boring husband would think if he saw his perfect little wife right now, tits covered in wax and cunt stretched around a stranger’s cock in front of the whole club.” I gulped down her spit and forced the words out between moans. “I’m here… because I’m a filthy… cheating… pain-whore… My husband thinks I’m asleep… but I’m getting my married cunt destroyed… in public… because I’m too weak and slutty to stay away… Please… please let your whore come…” The women cheered. One of the onlookers yelled, “Cover her in wax and make her fountain for us!” The older woman answered putting both candles at once. Hot wax r

The commenter’s handle was generic, but the words were venomous. @NeighborWatcher: Total loser. A user and an abuser. I live next door to this trash. He has a wife he cheats on constantly—probably has every STD in the book. He spends all day badmouthing her, says he can’t stand her touch. Told me he’s only had sex with his wife twice and was so disgusted he couldn't do it again. Calls her his 'Sugar Mama' and makes fun of her to anyone who will listen. Stay away.

"I have no problem with the concept of a Hot Wife as long as she is taking care of her husband's needs when he has them. I know a lot of women in their thirties and early forties have a higher sex drive than their husbands. I think if the husband is taken care of when he needs or wants his wife, there is nothing wrong with her seeking some relief when he isn't." The sexy thirty-six-year-old hot wife smiled at her new boss and checked him out blatantly and was shocked at what she thought she saw in his pants. Was his cock really running down his pants leg halfway to his knee? She looked up, and he winked, knowing what she'd been doing. She smiled back and said, "I think I'm really going to en

“I’ll live with that.” My eyes filled with tears. I had spent years begging Ethan for affection. This man was offering me a choice. That difference terrified me. I took a deep breath. “I might consider it.” His eyebrows lifted slightly. “But there will be conditions.” “I expected that.” “One year.” He nodded. “A contract marriage for one year.” “Agreed.” “No pretending this is a real marriage outside what is necessary.” “Agreed.” “No controlling where I go.” “Agreed.” “No deciding what I wear.”

Adrian waited outside the room while I entered. A woman in her late forties sat beside the window, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea. Her face looked tired, and her eyes moved nervously toward the door when I approached. “Mrs. Moore?” She nodded. “My name is Elena Hayes. My father was Daniel Hayes.” The cup slipped slightly in her hands. “I know who you are.” I sat opposite her. “Then you know why I’m here.” She looked toward the closed door. “Is Adrian Blackwell outside?”

"Then I met a woman." Patricia's heartbeat quickened. The pieces were beginning to move. Slowly. Dangerously. "What woman?" Obadiah's expression softened. A mixture of pain and regret. "Her name was Grace Akinyi." The name meant nothing to Patricia. Yet somehow it felt important. Very important. "I loved her." The confession surprised everyone. "I truly loved her." The billionaire's voice cracked slightly. "But I was a coward." Patricia remained silent. "I promised her many things."

“I don’t want to see you with my husband again. I don’t care about how you gonna raise your child. I’ve disowned you.” I grabbed my bag and turned to leave. Then she spoke. “You think he loves you?” she sneered. “He doesn’t. He loves me. You were nothing but his trophy wife.”

“The woman at the front desk, you’re fucking her, right? If you really want to make this right, then why do you still have the audacity to bring her again and fuck her at the house I lived, Jack?” “That’s not true.” “I have pictures, and that woman was more than willing to share your fair share of escapades. My self-esteem’s at its lowest and I’ve been asking myself, on top of the many questions I have already, why did my husband cheat? Is it because I don’t look beautiful enough? Am I not sexy enough? Do I bore him already?” “No. That’s not true.” Jack attempted to go near Hyacinth. She raised her hand to stop him.

“Your little mistress just called to tell me you finna be a daddy. What i wanna know is how the hoe even got my number? Well congratulations ! you homeless now. Now get the fuck out my house!” I turned and went upstairs. I had held back my tears long enough. I started packing his shit while they flowed down my face. I had gave this man fifteen years of my life and all he did was hurt me. My name was Shunshine Johnson. I was married to Damien Johnson. We was high school sweethearts. I was madly in love with him. Nobody could have told me that we would end up here. When we first met i meant the world to him. Or as he say i was his Shunshine on a rainy day. Things changed once we got older. He