Miranda's branch

Flashback showing the young woman's voyeuristic misadventures as she happens upon her mom, Maria's affair with her dad's best friend, Stefano a man Miranda looked up to as another father figure.

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The Daughter's Awakening: A Voyeur's Corruption

The Premature Return

The apartment was too quiet when Miranda slipped inside, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her keys jingling softly in the dim foyer. She had texted her mother earlier—"Study session running late, don’t wait up"—but the professor had canceled last minute, leaving her with an empty evening and a gnawing curiosity about why her mother hadn’t replied.

Then she heard it.

A moan.

Low, guttural, feminine.

Miranda froze, her fingers tightening around her phone. It came from her parents’ bedroom, down the hall, past the framed family photos where Antonio’s smiling face seemed to mock her. Another moan followed, this one higher, breathless, punctuated by the rhythmic creak of bedsprings.

Her stomach twisted.

No. Not again.

She should have turned around. Should have texted her friends, gone to a café, anything to avoid confirming what she already suspected. But her feet moved on their own, carrying her down the hallway, her ballet flats silent on the hardwood. The bedroom door was cracked—just enough to see inside.

Miranda’s breath caught.

The Forbidden Scene

Her mother was on all fours, naked, her toned back arched, the mature woman's dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. Behind Maria, Stefano—her father’s best friend, the man who had bounced her on his knee as a child—help Maria’s hips with an iron grip, his cock buried to the hilt inside her.

"F-fuck—Stefano—yes, just like that—" Maria gasped, her soft contralto raw from hours of pleasured screams, her nails clawing at the sheets.

Miranda’s pulse roared in her ears. She should have been disgusted. The young pale beauty should have stormed in, screamed, something. But her body betrayed her. Heat pooled between her thighs, the slender vixen's nipples pebbling under her thin blouse. Her lithe fingers trembled as she fumbled with her phone, the camera app opening with a soft click.

Just for evidence, she told herself.

Just to show Dad.

But the moment she hit record, the lie unraveled.

Stefano’s hips snapped forward, driving Maria’s face into the mattress, her ass jiggling with each brutal thrust. "Tell me," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Tell me who fucks you better."

Maria sobbed, her body shaking. "You—God, you—Antonio’s pathetic compared to you—"

Miranda’s breath hitched. Her thumb swiped across the screen, zooming in, capturing every detail: the way Stefano’s muscles flexed as he pounded into her mother, the way Maria’s breasts swayed with each movement, the wet sound of their joining.

Her free hand drifted between her legs, her fingers pressing against the damp fabric of her panties.

This is wrong.

Yet Miranda didn’t stop.

"It's so f-fucking big... M-mom, what the hell is he doing to you?"

She couldn't take her eyes off from her mom's pussy getting ravaged, Maria's motherly image was completely gone, only a cheap slut screaming her husband's friend name in lustful vengeance.

And a part of her wanted a taste.

The Unseen Observer

Stefano noticed her first.

A flicker of movement in the doorway—a pale face, wide-eyed, lips parted. Miranda. For a heartbeat, their gazes locked. He expected her to bolt. To scream.

Instead, her cheeks flushed darker, her phone still raised, recording.

A slow smirk curled his lips.

"Maria," he murmured, slowing his thrusts, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts. "You’re being very loud."

Maria whimpered, too far gone to care. "Let them hear," she panted. "Let Antonio hear what a real man feels like—"

Miranda’s fingers pressed harder against herself, her hips rocking subtly, seeking friction. Stefano watched, his cock twitching inside Maria at the sight.

"Such a good girl," he purred, his voice low enough that only Miranda could hear the double meaning. "Watching so quietly."

Maria moaned, oblivious. Miranda’s breath stuttered, her thighs squeezing together.

Stefano increased his pace, his grip tightening on Maria’s hips, his eyes never leaving Miranda’s. "Come for me," he ordered—and Miranda wasn’t sure if he was talking to her mother or her.

Maria shattered first, her back arching, her cries muffled by the sheets. Stefano followed with a groan, his release painting her insides, his gaze still locked on Miranda.

The phone trembled in her hand.

She had hours of footage to review tonight.

The Corruption Complete

Miranda fled to her room, her heart hammering, her skin burning. She locked the door behind her, her backpack tumbling to the floor, forgotten.

Her phone landed on the bed, the screen still glowing with the paused video—her mother’s blissful expression, Stefano’s smirk, the obscene glisten of sweat and more between Maria’s thighs.

Miranda’s fingers hooked into her panties, yanking them down.

This is sick.

Her vibrator buzzed to life.

"I-I should delete this."

She didn’t.

"O-Oh fuck, shitshitshit, I'm gonna be late for uni!"

The young woman's bed-sheets were dripping with Miranda's pussy juice in the morning.

Miranda's computer screen frozen on the fat, creamy load leaking from her voluptuous mom's gaping ass.