Stories Of Wife Cheating Novels & Stories

"My husband is a billionaire now. He can give me any amount of money I want. If I am going to suck a cock, it will be a billionaire's cock. Not yours." I chuckled. "I wonder what your billionaire husband would say if he saw a video of his wife getting fucked by another man." She froze. Her face went pale. "You are bluffing." I took out my phone. I scrolled through it slowly. "There were cameras all over that resort room. I could send a video to your husband right now." "If you do that," she said carefully, "your wife finds out you are cheating too." I shrugged. "That is not a big deal. I will always find a way to beg my wife. She loves me too much. She cannot live without me."

> "I'm the cold, detached wife. I'm the emotionally unavailable physician who spent more time in the trauma bays than in her own home. I was entirely too focused on my own career advancement to notice a lonely, neglected husband." Thelma looked utterly crushed. The absolute silence that followed was all the confirmation I required. I nodded slowly, the pieces of the puzzle locking into perfect alignment. The script practically wrote itself. The highly successful, unyielding female doctor; the busy, neglectful mother; the tragic, cast-aside husband who simply fell into the arms of a warm, supportive young woman. You could almost hear the whispers spreading through the manicured lawns of River

Ethan's message came in while Lucas and I were having breakfast across from each other. Ethan Harrington was the man I'd chosen to cheat with. Young, full of heat, eager and obedient where it counted. My phone buzzed a few times on the table, which earned me a glance from the man across from me. I unlocked the screen and his messages flew in one after another. "When are you divorcing him?" "Baby, you promised you'd own up to us. You said you'd give me a real place in your life."

He listened as she spoke in fragments, the gala, the anonymous email, the way the photo had ripped open old wounds. “My ex cheated,” he said quietly over shared tiramisu. “Three years into our marriage. I found out because she accidentally texted me instead of him. The photo was timestamped the same night I was home with our daughter.” He gave a small, rueful smile. “I know that betrayal. The way it makes you question every memory. Every ‘I love you.’ It doesn’t make you weak for needing space. It makes you human.” Seraphine stared at her fork. “I thought Lucien was different. He’s been my safe place since… since everything changed. But seeing that photo, same suit, same night, it felt like

It burned all the way down, but not enough to distract me. “I took her in. I gave her shelter. Food. Love. She said she wanted a new beginning,” he went on, shaking his head. “And yes, we got close. She made me feel needed. Like I was saving her.” He paused. “But it was all a lie.” There it was. The nail in the coffin. “She never left her husband. She played us both. Not just the both of us, she also had a third guy she cheated on me with” His face hardened. “That’s when I knew she was a lying whore who belonged in the streets.”

" As the woman recalled the heart-wrenching events that had occurred in the past few months, she could not help but tear up. After she had gotten pregnant, she quit her job to focus on becoming a housewife. She had naively thought that everything would be fine as long as she did not do anything that wronged her husband. Little did she know, she had underestimated the true nature of a man. With all the business networking her husband had to do, he would have countless encounters with beautiful ladies. When faced with such frequent temptations, who would be able to resist them? It was three months ago that she realized her husband had cheated on her. His mistress had openly uploaded a photo of

"It’s really interesting, as the sound of her loud moans also turned me on." I lowered my head in embarrassment. "It's so funny that you had seven rounds with her when you hardly even finished the third round with me, always claiming that you were tired or had back pain, or perhaps you thought your disc slipped or just any ridiculous excuse, and you slept with her for seven fucking rounds. That's totally amazing, Cassius. I had no idea you were so good like that." "Mary, I..." "Do not talk, I'm still talking. What right does a man who cheated out of his matrimony have after shoving his wife's dignity and trust into the mud?"

“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.

But I do. And it ticks every part of me off. I hate that I do but I can’t help it. My wife is busy having dinner with another man on a non-friendly basis and I cannot stomach that in. Any man living in this country must have seen her on tv the moment we got married, so this person is either daringly bold to carry on with this date after seeing her in person or just plain stupid. I’m sure it’s the latter. The audacity has me baffled.

The day I find out I'm pregnant, I also discover my husband is cheating on me. To think that Brock Emerson, a celebrated OB-GYN, is sleeping with his own protegee, Wendy Blair! I strip Wendy's clothes off in front of the entire hospital, humiliating her for everyone to see. After that, the staff group chat turns into a daily betting pool on whether I'll show up to cause another scene. When Brock pulls me off the balcony railing yet again, he drops to his knees. "I've already had Wendy transferred. What happened that day was just an accident. You're all I care about." I give Brock two choices—either he sends Wendy to prison, or he signs the divorce papers. He personally submits evidence o