My Wifes Best Friend Novels & Stories

Elvis chuckles, his laughter warm and inviting, “Then I assume it’s our pleasure. Thank you, Lara,” he replies, slipping his arm across his wife Becky’s waist, a gesture that speaks volumes about their bond. I can’t help but admire the way they interact, their connection evident in the way they lean into each other, sharing a moment that feels intimate and genuine.

"And do you have to go to Greece to comfort her? Can't you comfort her in this fùcking house!" "Seriously?" "Doesn't she have other friends who can do that?" I scowl at him. "Gina or Miranda or Lucille or George or Liam or Ethan. You have a huge friend group. Why can't she go and get comfort from any of them? Why must it be you? Why must it be my fùcking husband?" "Because her best friend just died." He says. "And now I'm her best friend. She finds comfort in me. And I have to be there for her. Wouldn't you do the same for Lana?"

The woman watched her with an amused glance on her face before saying, “Should I put you out of your misery or do you want to keep trying?” Marie nodded, “Alright, I'll tell you. But you have to know I go wayyyyyyy back with your husband.” “Okay?” She said, not sure how this was supposed to help her. Steven knew way too many gorgeous women from way back. “And over the years, we’ve gotten really chummy. I'm pretty sure we're best friends at this point.” Best friends? How come Steven had never mentioned that he had such a knockout for a best friend. And wasn't James supposed to be his best friend?

Poor, worn out Misty still managed to reach down and give my worn out cock a squeeze. I took my wife by the waist and lead her back into the house. "That was quite a nice unexpected offer," I told her. "Purely selfish." She told me. "You got a thing for them?" I asked, curious. "No, you ninny! Let me ask you a question." "Shoot." "Do you know anybody who would let their husband fuck their best friends, especially friends that look like those two?" She asked me, sitting down on the bed. "Are you kidding? Of course not."

, he said and I laughed. "Get this....Fred isn't my husband...he's just....", I said, stopping mid-sentence. I really didn't know what to say... A friend...we barely knew things about each other, I won't call that friendship. A fling....I just told him I was married. I guess the friend does sound better. "He's just a friend I haven't seen in a while, you happened to look like him just a little bit", I said. "And yes, and my husband had to step out, someone needed to see him.

Even if Donnovan walked faster, he really chased Donnovan to put his arm around him and ask for cake. Astrid shook her head. “Get used to it. That’s how those two are when they’re together. Crazy people.” She simply laughed. “I noticed.” Isis looks happy though, she likes seeing him happy like this. “They’re really best of friends, huh?” Astrid nodded. “That husband of mine, he just keeps denying that Isis is his best friend but when Isis has a problem, my husband immediately comforts and help him.” “That’s so sweet,” she said. Thank God Isis has a friend like Donnovan.

I manage a half-smile, the kind that doesn’t touch my eyes. She studies me for a moment before asking, “How’s Felix?” The question hits like a quiet slap. I drop my gaze to my coffee, swirling the spoon just to buy a second. “He’s… fine.” She hums, unconvinced. “And you?” I shrug. “Same.” Her voice softens, but her eyes don’t. “Still hung up on your best friend’s wife?” My throat tightens. For a moment, I think about lying — telling her I’ve moved on, that I don’t see her face every damn time I close my eyes. But I can’t even form the words.

The way she watched me like a hawk almost made me laugh. Brittany and I have been friends for a long time, since childhood really. Our parents were best friends, so we also became best friends. She was older than me by two years so she was like my older sister. I would give my life for her and she would do the same, if she wasn't here, I wouldn't even know what to do.

After eight years together, Brenda Townsend finally agreed to marry me. I was over the moon. First, I could spend the rest of my life with the woman I loved. Second, I could finally fulfill Grandma's wish so she could leave this world without regrets. On the day we were supposed to get married, I arrived early at the city hall and realized the only person waiting at the entrance was Brenda's best friend, Megan Cunningham. Megan lowered her gaze and said she came to celebrate her best friend's special day.

about long hours and different ambitions. I scrolled further, my finger pausing on a photo. There it was — a picture of her husband and Asher at some event years ago, the two men smiling, arms around each other’s shoulders. Both in suits, both young, both looking like they owned the world. The caption called them “old friends.” My stomach twisted. The connection was there, the history I had sensed but hadn’t wanted to face. It wasn’t just that she’d dated Asher. She’d been part of his circle. His _best friend’s wife_.