My Husband Is Womanizer Novels & Stories

I looked up at the woman and asked, "Who is my husband?" She seemed taken aback by my question, her expression flickering with a mixture of surprise and caution. "Your husband... you don't remember him?" I shook my head slowly, feeling a knot form in my stomach. "No, I don't. Please, can you tell me who he is?" The woman glanced at Tommy, who was still clinging to me, his tears starting to subside. "Your husband is Mr. Richard Walker," she said quietly. "He's been away on a business trip for the past few weeks. He's expected back tomorrow."

Chris questioned, raising a brow, “You know she’ll ask.” “Work seems to be the fairly consistent winner when it comes to James’ absence.” The sad thing about that statement was that I wish that’s all it was. I wished my husband was simply a workaholic. But instead, the reality was that he was with another woman. Marina would always win.

Her husband, Stefano, followed suit, a charming smile etched across his face as they made their way to the entrance of the office. As he firmly grasped her waist, she winced imperceptibly, the grip more possessive than affectionate. Stefano’s eyes sparkled with a veneer of playfulness, but she could sense the underlying demand in his words. "Start acting like my whore wife," he whispered into her ear, the command hanging in the air like a heavy mist. These words were no strangers to her; they had become a haunting refrain in the symphony of their marriage. Each time he uttered them, it sent a shiver down her spine, a stark reminder of the facade she was forced to maintain.

“I can't believe you ran to my sister with your marriage drama.” “You weren’t around,” he says, voice tight. “I needed someone to talk to.” “Well, maybe next time call a therapist. They’re trained for that sort of thing.” “Jordan…” I cut him off with a low chuckle. “You’re unbelievable, man. So full of yourself you can’t see the damage you keep leaving behind.” On her. On me. “She’s my wife,” he says sharply. “I still love her. And if another man’s in the picture, I’m not going to sit back and play stupid.”

In his mind, women were toys to be used and discarded. I struggled to break free, staring at him in disbelief. "How did you become like this? You make me sick!" The last trace of warmth disappeared from his face. "This kind of thing is normal for guys like me," he said. "I've been married to you for five years and have only kept one mistress. That's loyal enough. I've never shortchanged you. What's your problem? You know Steve Wilson? He's had mistresses since day one. His wife never complains. Everyone else just looks the other way. Why can't you?"

“You're lucky, ma'am. It seems like Sir. Gabriel loves you so much, unlike my ex-husband who cheated on me!" Celina’s throat closed up. She blinked rapidly, fighting the rising tide of panic and disbelief. “Yes. That’s… right.” She forced a nod, swallowing hard. “We’ve been married. W-We are doing great." Marissa gave an understanding nod and smiled warmly. “He’s so proud of you. I always thought you two made a great couple. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” Celina’s knees felt weak. A cold wave washed over her as Marissa’s words settled into her like icy needles. The man she had been sharing stolen moments with—the man who whispered sweet promises and touched her like she was th

“And this isn’t the way to fix it.” “Fix it?” My voice cracked slightly, and I hated that he heard it, that he saw it. “You think I called you to fix anything?” He didn’t answer immediately, just watched and tried to stop me from falling whenever I staggered. “You know what I saw tonight?” The words came out unevenly, my gaze dropping as I shook my head slowly. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to walk into your own house and find your husband going down on someone else?”

he asked. "I'm very happy," I said. "Don't lie! I know what kind of man he is. He changes women almost every year." "Don't talk about my husband like that. He's not what you think," I answered.

Storming outside my room, I pause at the door to his room, sounds of a woman riding on throes of orgasms, filters through the open crack, I grit my teeth hard. 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? Opening the door a crack, his eyes find mine. He keeps his dark eyes on me, bringing a lit cigarette in between his lips, I can’t take this anymore. Pushing the large oak doors open, that doesn’t stop her, her eyes are shut. How could he do this?? How did I end up with a man like this??

"My husband doesn't fuck me like a man would with his wife. Fuck! He can't even get hard most days." "Yesterday.... " Her breath hitched. "I was so wet, he was finally fucking my pussy the way I loved, then all of a sudden he went limp. I love sex, I love getting fucked. I always want the feel of a cock in me. But it seems my husband can't give me that anymore." "But I thought you were in an open marriage? Why not find someone all these while to fuck you properly? " Taylor asked, confused. "Uhmm... I lied about that actually. My husband wouldn't agree to that. He's a pastor."