Thick Wife Novels & Stories

“Don’t make me laugh, child. She didn’t stop there. Of course she didn’t. Because women like her never do. Women like her — the perfect, blonde, icy wife with the yoga body and the botoxed forehead — they always feel like they’ve got more to say. Like the world asked for their opinion. Like someone handed them a mic and begged for their judgment. She folded her arms under her suspiciously perky boobs and tilted her head again like she was trying to figure out whether to insult me with sugar or spit. “My husband is around,” she said, voice suddenly low and sharp like broken glass under silk. “And I don’t want him seeing thick, fat asses and thighs from teenage girls walking around the house l

#After A Few Months# *Vikesh Pov* “You told me that you are not the last one to get married in your gang?” My wife whom I got married to just a few days back asked looking at me. “Yeah!” I replied nodding at her as I bragged near everyone that I am not the last one like they expected me to be. “But they both are definitely married.” She mumbled pointing at the famous couple in my gang who made everyone run a marathon with their ups and downs for sure with our minds.

Harvey couldn't show his discomfort when Emma mentioned Jethro, he smiled and said, "Of course, he sounds familiar, Jethro is known as the golden man, he's on all the news channels." "Oh, that's right, I forgot. But Harvey, I want to ask you this..." Emma hesitated to ask, unsure if it was appropriate. Harvey put down his phone and listened attentively to what Emma had to say. "What is it? Tell me," he said. "Jethro Thompson is already married, isn't he? And his wife looks just like me, doesn't she?" Emma asked. Harvey burst out laughing, making Emma blush with embarrassment. "Hahaha...Do you really think so? Jethro's wife's name is Gemma Robert, and she is truly a goddess."

Then she opened it. Inside was a single letter, printed on heavy paper. No emotion. No introduction. Just precision. You left early. The contract was for five years. You’ve completed three. You are still legally my wife. Return by the 20th or I will proceed as agreed. This is not an invitation. This is a requirement. —C. Vale No greeting. No signature. Just the letter and the weight it carried. Anais read it once. Then again. The 20th was four days away.

"Who are you calling the other woman? Anna is my wife. She was the one I married." Wilson moved to stand by me, his hand finding my shoulder. "Rowena, enough with the drama, okay?" It was a relief to hear him defend me, but the way he scolded Rowena, trying to hold back his anger, it still felt like he was taking sides. Suddenly, he seemed like a stranger to me. Maybe the love we had was just a mirage, nothing more than the sweet phase every couple goes through at the start. "What did you just say?" Rowena was even more shocked by Wilson's declaration than by the slap. Her eyes were huge as she pointed at me, her voice shaking. "You say she's your wife? Then what am I? We're married!"

She may not have spoken the words out loud but her face said something about the others being fake. Mae Darkthorn. Silas Darkthorn's first wife. People referred to her as Madam Chief. She had a huge disgust for maids because her maids coveted her husband and he made them his wives right under her nose. News had it that Silas Darkthorn indeed respected and valued her more than the other wives and never clipped her wings. Mae never appeared in magazines or newspapers. You won't see her. Not one single picture of her. Because she made it so. The truth was that she was not just married to a powerful husband but her family was equally powerful.

Amythest regained her balance and walked over to the window. "How come you didn't tell me about your husband?" In hushed tones, I inquired. She scowled and drew her brows together, as if she didn't understand why I was interested in his husband. She moved away from me and said, "Umm.... he works as a body bulder." I turned around to face her and showed her my biceps once more. Despite the fact that I am not a bodybuilder, I do have abs and biceps. With a thud, she walked into the washroom, rolling her eyes. She shut the door in my face, as though I was invading her personal space. I slapped my face in humiliation and attempted to inquire about her love life.

It was very likely that this young woman had applied for it or had even been at the Foundation at some point. "Crusher has guts," he thought. He knew firsthand how demanding women like her could be—so full of vitality, so full of ambition. Marrying her must not have been difficult for a man like Daniel, a long-time widower with no serious relationships, an impeccable reputation, and his infamous arrogance. But it was obvious that the lady in question held the reins; for her to seduce him and get him to sign a marriage certificate, she must have been very skilled in her craft.

the woman asked, noticing that Jared seemed to be really concerned about the woman sitting in front of him. 'I've been around Jared quite frequently for the past five years, but never have I seen another woman like her around him, let alone one whom he would display so much affection to. This is interesting,' the woman thought. "My wife," Jared coldly replied. "You're married? How was I not aware of that?" she asked, her startled voice becoming louder. In response, Jared frowned, and a hint of irritation crossed his eyes. "Just do your job properly. There's no need for you to poke your nose into my personal affairs."

Do you think by marrying me you will get limitless money, a luxurious life? "Wife? Like seriously, you are considering your ugly self as my wife? The multimillionaire Sebastian Knight's wife? Then listen you are nothing but a gold digger. How much I wish you had seen your ugly self before considering your worthless self as my wife. Your face isn't worth spat upon, you fucking whore. This marriage is nothing to me. You are nothing to me. You are just a low-class girl. How could you even think that you can be my wife? You won't even fit as my maid. Have you even seen this type of clothes in your entire life?