Young Mother Full

"Don't lick there. Not now... My husband's calling..." I answered the phone, my face burning with shame. The husband on the other end of the line had no idea his beloved wife had another man's head between her thighs at that very moment.

"N-No! F-Four is too much for me! I won't be able to handle them!" In a midnight bus ride, four of my husband's work colleagues have me pinned down on a seat. Soon, I feel my legs getting wrenched apart by force. The man standing before me takes off his belt before whipping it across my perky butt heavily. "Spread your legs! Women like you are meant to give us pleasure!" After that, he tears my soaked panties off my body.

“Mhm, so tingly! My body can’t take it anymore. I really want it...” I was in a maternity store while shirtless, demonstrating how to use a breast pump. My body tingled as the soft silicone pumped on my sensitive spots. What made it worse was that it was a public demonstration. It attracted quite a few married men. They were staring at my body. Their intense gazes made me feel shy and worked up. Ridiculously, three men actually asked me to demonstrate which positions would make it easy to get their wives pregnant.

The bedroom was dark, and I was holding my wife's hand, feeling like I wanted to do something a little daring. But as I moved her hand, she suddenly stopped me, her hand trembling slightly. When the movie ended and the lights came on, I was shocked to realize that the person beside me wasn't my wife, but our neighbor, Lesley Mendoza...

My mentally impaired brother married a young, beautiful woman. She was a college graduate, kind and sensible. In just three years, she already had three kids.  My dad couldn’t stop smiling, always boasting to everyone about what a great daughter-in-law he had. However, I knew the truth. Every night, she would quietly sneak into my bed.

Zoya Bipasha Vijayalakshmi, daughter of a tycoon named Narendra Prasadh. After graduating from college in Boston, her father sent her to Dharavi, the largest slum area in the world for tough life training in expecting that Zoya could become a caring, compassionate, and strong-willed leader. But she is falling in love with a poor who sell food named Praveen in Dharavi. Praveen Jayachandran, a poor young man. From the village he dreamed of becoming a famous Bollywood star, but fate brought him to Dharavi to become a street vendor selling Idli. Will Zoya be able to complete her father's challenge with the harsh life in Dharavi? Or she even get into trouble for falling in love with a man from a lower caste? Can their love survived in the midst of her fake identity?

A year after my divorce, my ex-husband, Harvey Fisher, pings me in a group chat. "This cold war has gone on for long enough. Come home—let's remarry." I reply, "Have you lost your mind?" Everyone in the group chat tries to convince me to take Harvey back. Meanwhile, he asks, "What have you been doing without me in your life?" I turn to look at my current husband, who's putting our child to sleep. I reply, "Recovering after having a child." The group chat members are initially excited, but they instantly fall silent at my words. Harvey angrily calls me countless times, but I ignore him. His mind is not the only thing he's lost—he's also lost the young woman who once loved him more than life itself.

Just like a mist, Michael's love life fluctuates without certainty. He has a beautiful wife, and his life is filled with wealth. Unfortunately, he is haunted by the memory of his ex-wife, who is dead because of his stupid mistake. She is a beautiful young lady with amnesia, having everything Michael loved in his ex-wife. She has a fiance, but he wants her at all costs. Will they unite even though Michael's life has changed? Will he receive love after finding the one woman who awoke his dead feelings once more? Wait, what if she's his supposed dead wife?

Crystal Blues, a young woman from a low-class family, endured the tragic loss of her parents when she was just twelve years old. Left with the weighty responsibility of caring for her younger sisters, she faced a challenging path ahead. Fortune smiled upon her when her path crossed with an archangel in the name of Mervin Brooklyn who offered his assistance, thus lightening the burden she bore. As fate would have it, Crystal eventually obtained evidence pointing to her parents' murderers, only to discover that they were part of a formidable and powerful family. Life took an even more complicated turn when she found herself entangled in a complex love triangle. Her affections were torn between Mervin, her guardian archangel, and the daughter of the family responsible for her parents' demise. Fuelled by a burning desire to bring the responsible family to justice, Crystal made the bold decision to reveal the damning evidence she held against them. However, the tables quickly turned, and Crystal's loved ones were thrust into jeopardy, becoming bargaining chips in exchange for the proof of the family's wrongdoing. Now, she stands at a harrowing crossroads, forced to make a life-altering choice that could either rescue her from impending tragedy or condemn her to a painful repetition of history.

Lily Thornton was the underprivileged student I'd sponsored for a full ten years. From middle school through college, I covered every penny of her tuition and living expenses. I treated her like my own little sister. When she was diagnosed with a rare disease, I even begged my husband, Graham Forsythe -- Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery -- to personally operate on her. But on the day of her college graduation ceremony. I went to her apartment early to surprise her. And found Graham pressing her into the sofa, tenderly kissing her slightly swollen belly. "Graham, if Serena finds out about our baby, do you think she'll cut off my medication?" Graham pulled her into his arms, his voice laced with that condescending patience of his. "Don't worry. Serena is the kind of woman who's so rational she's practically cold-blooded. She'd never understand the soul-deep connection we share -- two people saving each other." "But to protect my reputation as department chief, she'll fall in line." "Once I get that one-of-a-kind clinical trial slot for the new drug, I'll divorce her and give you and the baby a real home." I stood outside the door, staring at the freshly stamped Phase-I clinical trial authorization in my hand. I didn't push the door open. I didn't make a scene. I simply, with perfect calm, tore it to shreds and dropped the pieces into the trash can beside me. Graham Forsythe. You couldn't have imagined this in your wildest dreams. That clinical trial slot your entire hospital had pulled every string to secure. Its lead research scientist was none other than your wife. The one you mocked for being so rational she was cold-blooded.