My Boyfriend Called Me A Stranger On Livestream Novels & Stories

I let out a deep sigh, closing my eyes briefly. “Do you want to tell me about it now?” Layla asked, stepping into the room and hanging up her coat. “You can’t just say it’s nothing. I saw you half-naked with your clothes on the floor.” I looked up at her, the headache dulling my ability to react sharply. I took a deep breath, struggling to stay calm. “Layla, I slept with a stranger.” Her eyes widened in shock as she quickly sat down on the opposite couch. “What? How could you sleep with a total stranger?”

He poured his hot liquids inside me, intensifying the pleasure even more! He remained above me, breathing heavily, his member still was inside me. After a few minutes, he lay beside me and hugged me tightly. I couldn't explain it, but I felt secure. His arms felt like the safest place to be. "Goodnight, Baby." he whispered to my ear. "gowdnayt shu." I replied lazily. I felt a kiss on my forehead. I smiled and everything turned black as I lose my consciousness. But really... Who was this stranger I made love with?

Relief floods me, my heart ready to burst, my lips parting to call her name… But the door opens to a stranger. A woman I’ve never seen. Her eyes narrow at me, body rigid, blocking the doorway. “Who are you?” she demands sharply. I stumble over my words. “I-I’m Mia’s best friend. Mel. I… I live here too. I’ve been away for two months, that’s all. Please, can you tell Mia her best friend is here?” Her lips curl into a sharp, incredulous smile. “I’m living here with my boyfriend,” she says slowly, deliberately. “I doesn’t know anyone named Mia.”

“I’ve been such a slut in my head, Lucas. Fantasizing about strange men running a train on me. Four big cocks stretching my pussy, ass, and throat while I scream like a whore. Would you like that? Seeing your wife get turned into a cum-covered mess?” I was lost in it now—bobbing my head frantically, slurping and gagging, my fingers frantically rubbing my clit under the lingerie. My heavy tits bounced with every movement. I didn’t notice that in my lust-drunk haze, instead of hitting record… I had accidentally started a live stream to my social media. Every filthy moan, every wet suck, every depraved word I spoke was being broadcast live to hundreds of people—supporters, donors, journalists,

I was lounging at home, scrolling through social media, when a livestream title suddenly caught my eye—"The Other Woman Crash Course." Curious, I entered to see a woman talking animatedly, "My sugar daddy gives me 200,000 every month. I just need to keep him satisfied!" Viewers were doubtful and asked, "I don't believe you. Tell us how you two met." She smiled. "That's alright. You don't get to meet someone like that every day. I met him after doing a bone marrow transplant with his girlfriend three years ago. That's how I met this golden bachelor." I frowned. I had a bone marrow transplant three years ago too. Suddenly, the door opened, and she covered her phone in panic. A man's deep

There’s a pause long enough for me to hear the game’s ambient music looping in the background. “I love you, Rox. I’m having a rough week.” “I love you too. That’s why I’m asking.” “Can we call it tonight? I’ve got an early meeting.” I check the clock. We’ve been online less than an hour, but arguing him into staying won’t make him want to be here. “Sure. Good luck tomorrow.” “Thanks. I’ll message you.” The channel disconnects, leaving my character standing alone beside a campfire. ⸻

My parents never let me spend my summer or winter breaks in the city where they worked, even when I offered to go there and look after them. I thought they were just worried about me. Dad said eight people shared a single factory dorm room, and even using the bathroom meant waiting in line. Mom said they worked twelve-hour rotating shifts on the assembly line. Sometimes, she and Dad barely had time to eat. Afraid of being a burden, I eventually stopped asking. The year I finished high school, I used the money I'd been saving for ages to buy a train ticket. I wanted to surprise them. I waited six hours at a diner across from their shop before I finally saw them. They were holding hands

My throat closes around the sound before it can fully form, some horrible, choked half noise the only thing that makes it out, and panic claws up through the haze thick enough to almost, almost cut through it. "My boyfriend is Alaric Ford." The lie comes out desperate, shaking, some last, useless card I throw down because I have nothing else left to throw. "He's going to kill you. He'll find you." The stranger laughs. Low, mocking, utterly unbothered. "Sure he is, sweetheart." His hand tightens on my wrist. "Nice try." He doesn't believe me. Of course he doesn't believe me. Nothing about tonight, about any of this, sounds believable, not even to me, standing here with my own body betraying m

“To tell you frankly, I am just here for sex. Nothing more.” His eyebrows raised. “Yeah, me too...” “So, I guess we can have the pleasure we want without knowing each other. I don’t attach myself to anyone.” “So, what should I call you?” Luther asked. “You can use an endearment, Mr. Stranger. Don’t make my name one of your problems.”

He said. I shook my head no. But then I realized he can not see me. “No!” I answered. “I am not sending my address to a stranger.” I said. “Hey do you forgot that I am your boyfriend? Boyfriend should know about his girlfriend, right?” He said. “FAKE GIRLFRIEND!” I gritted. “Can you just not disturbing me? I am so tired now.” I said. “I do not even have the idea to disturb you. All that I want is just treat you for a dinner.” He said.