Mature Mistress Novels & Stories

“Congratulations on your wedding! Although we must have missed our invite in the mail. We’d like to catch up with…” There’s no reason to keep reading the mail beyond that point. It’s a variation of the same kinds of mails I’ve been receiving since the wedding three weeks ago. I pause at the door to his study, sounds of a woman riding on throes of orgasms, filters through the open crack. What would people say if they saw a woman with her legs spread out, in between her legs, my husband of a few days, sliding in and out of her? He keeps his dark eyes on me, bringing his signature scotch to his lips. I can’t take this anymore. How could he do this?? How did I end up with a man like this?? “Get out of my house!” I snap, The woman shrieks, scrambling to cover herself up with pieces of clothing. I grit my teeth hard. “She’s my guest.” “Take your guests elsewhere. This is not a whorehouse.” I snap, gritting my teeth so hard it feels like my jaw would crack. “Would you do what they do?” “W-what?” He leans forward, I keep my eyes above his waistline, specifically on the middle of his forehead. “Would you, instead of them, suck my cock?” His accent makes the word sound even dirtier than usual. Isaac's family demanded a husband, he delivered and now his life is a mess. A marriage on paper, a disaster in practice. Isaac Valentine needed a husband, not for love. And he met the last man he would ever choose, Ivan Romanov. The deal is clean. Everyone wins. Until it isn't. After all, what's more dangerous than a marriage of convenience? Real feelings with an expiration date.

I'm performing heart surgery when my "crimes" are announced through the hospital's speakers. The woman cries, "Dr. Maeve Thornton wrecked my family, seduced my husband, and chose to be with him despite knowing he was married! "She contacted my husband in private and operated on my five-year-old daughter when she was perfectly fine. She attempted murder during the surgery!" The woman is my husband's mistress, but she turns the tables on me and kicks the operation theater's door down with a group of people who think they're righteous. She curses at me and kicks the medical equipment over, wanting me to get on my knees and apologize. She and her entourage take my scalpel away, strip me of my scrubs, and even stab me with my scalpel. There's blood everywhere. I start laughing when my husband finally arrives. "So, this is the biggest surprise you've prepared for me, huh?"

By accident, I stumbled upon my husband's secret. There were cameras covering every corner of our house, but I stayed silent and pretended not to know about them. One day, I faked leaving home and hid in the closet, only to hear my husband fooling around with his mistress. Jared's breath was short from exertion. "Faster. We have less than 20 minutes before Vanessa gets back." His mistress giggled. "Relax. Her eyesight is terrible." Jared growled. "Shut up! Vanessa is my wife. Say another thing about her, and I'll throw you out!" What he didn't know was that my eyesight had been cured. My vision was as sharp as anyone else's. I stepped out of the closet with a choked sob and called my brother. "I'll go to Murica."

I'm Lindt Group's CEO's mistress. When Gerald Lindt's fiancée calls to demand answers, I lean into his embrace and tell him to go to her. I play the role of a mistress perfectly. However, Gerald kisses me tenderly. "You're too kind, Lucy." I conceal the ruthlessness and hatred in my eyes as the image of a young woman's corpse appears in my mind. She was subjected to inhumane torture before her death. The pain of losing my loved one eats away at me; it's a feeling I'll never forget. I want all of these people who think they're better than me and my sister to pay with their lives.

As my due date approaches, my husband's precious mistress falls into the water at a banquet. After being rescued, she immediately accuses me of pushing her. To "avenge" her, he throws me into a modified stainless steel water tank. I beg him, pleading for the sake of our unborn children. But he only sneers. "Don't try to use the babies to guilt me! You've still got a week before you're due. I know exactly how vicious you are—any child of yours would be just as rotten. Stay in there and reflect on your behavior. I'll let you out when you finally admit you're wrong!" Five days later, my husband returns home from a night out with his mistress, calling for me to come downstairs and serve them, as always. He doesn't know that my babies and I have already rotted beyond recognition.

Lily was the little sister of my fiancé’s best friend. She was a mistress to a mafia Don—a sugar daddy—until his wife found out, and the clip of Lily getting beaten up ended up on the local news. Yet, somehow, everyone thought the woman getting dragged on TV was me. People at work who never liked me jumped at the chance to pile on. One of them even pointed right at my face and called me shameless. I tried to explain, “My fiancé is Sam Johnson, the CEO of Johnson Group. He’s handsome and ranked third on the Forbes list. Why would I become a mistress to a sugar daddy?” However, no one believed me. If anything, they looked at me like I was even more pathetic. One coworker sneered and pointed to the TV. “You’re not just morally bankrupt; you’re a liar. The CEO’s fiancée? That’s not you.” The TV was playing a breaking news segment titled: First Appearance of Johnson Group CEO’s Fiancée. And there Sam was, arm in arm with Lily, officially announcing their relationship.

On the day of my divorce, my ex-mother-in-law updates her social media with a photo. It's my husband's mistress' ultrasound—she's pregnant. Their friends and family congratulate her. Meanwhile, I share a premarital medical report. It belongs to her son, Owen Wade. It also clearly indicates he has congenital necrospermia. There's no way I'll want a man who can't have kids!

During the holiday, a hashtag related to honeymoon trips goes viral on social media. The topic is, "How are you planning to spend your honeymoon?" One of the threads that has the most replies reads, "I have to bring my mistress along, of course." "Wow! That's crazy. Can you teach us how to pull that off?" I frown as I scroll down the thread and find the reply. "There are a lot of poor, female backpackers these days. As long as the mistress acts pitiful enough, you can pull the wool over your wife's eyes. And just like that, a couple's haven will become a world of three. "My wife and I will be going on our honeymoon trip tomorrow. I'll give everyone live updates in this thread." Feeling disgusted, I close the thread. … The next day, my husband, Sean Clifford, and I meet a poor, female backpacker on the road. She has no car, money, or any suitcases with her. Sprawling herself across the windshield, she begs, "Can you give me a ride, sir? I have blisters all over my feet. I can't walk anymore."

Someone has left a message in the parents' group chat. "Whose child is this? The teacher has given her a really brutal beating!" When I tap on the video, I realize that my daughter, Hazel York, is the one getting beaten up by her teacher with a metal rod. Enraged, I rush to the school immediately. That teacher, Elise White, still has the gall to act all arrogant at the school gate. "So what if I'm the one beating her up? That filthy bitch has the guts to tell me that the gift my husband has given me is the gift meant for her mistress mom! "My gift is the one and only item that exists in this world! No amount of money can buy this gift!" As Elise speaks, she reveals a decoration made of building blocks smugly. My company's logo is printed on it. But this is the birthday gift I've given to Hazel! I call my secretary on the spot. "Freeze all of Chester's bank cards and deliver the divorce agreement to him. How dare that live-in son-in-law find himself a mistress! It seems that he truly has a death wish!"

My daughter accidentally scratched my husband's young mistress's face with her nails. For that, my husband had her fingers chopped off. Covered in blood, she came home seeking help, only to be assaulted by an intruder. I called my husband, crying, but his mistress's sweet voice answered the phone. "Stop using these lowly tricks to get Jack's attention. All you're doing is making him sick!" I begged my husband to take my call, but all I got in return was a barrage of insults. "Nothing is more important than Yvonne's face! I'm busy taking her to the hospital! I don't have time for your drama!" Later, my daughter's organs were removed by the intruder. Even in death, she was still tightly holding onto the birthday gift she had prepared for her father. My husband, a top lawyer, personally defended the criminal who assaulted our daughter. He let that man walk away scot-free after what he had done. On the day he celebrated his birthday with all our relatives, he finally knew that our daughter had died. He completely lost his mind.