She finds a perfect replica of Stefano's fat cock.

Miranda's Forbidden Replica: A Daughter's Perfect Imitation

The Stolen Treasure

The drawer had been locked—a small, unassuming thing tucked beneath her mother’s vanity, hidden behind perfumes and silk scarves. Miranda had found it weeks ago, her curiosity piqued when she’d noticed Maria slipping something inside after one of her "errands"—those long afternoons when Antonio was at work and Stefano’s car idled just around the corner.

Tonight, the lock gave way with a sharp click, the bobby pin Miranda had bent into a makeshift pick finally doing its job.

The contents were more damning than she’d imagined.

Lube. A silk blindfold. A velvet-lined box containing a gleaming silver plug.

And it—the prize.

A silicone dildo, thick-veined and heavy, its base molded to fit perfectly in a palm. Miranda’s breath caught as she lifted it, the weight unnatural, the texture disturbingly lifelike. There was no mistaking the shape—the pronounced ridge of the glans, the slight curve of the shaft, the girth that stretched her fingers as they wrapped around it.

How many times had she squirted to this shape? How many times had Miranda viewed that footage? Even blindfolded she could tell who it was modeled after...

Maria's lover.

More precisely, Stefano’s fat cock.

Her mother had commissioned a replica.

Miranda’s pulse hammered in her throat.

She should have been disgusted. Should have slammed the drawer shut, pretended she’d never seen it.

Instead, she tucked the toy into the waistband of her pajama shorts and crept back to her room.

The Preparation

Her bedroom door locked. The curtains drawn. The laptop open, the video cued to that moment—Stefano spreading Maria’s cheeks, his cock glistening as it pressed against her mother’s tight, sinful asshole.

Miranda stood before the full-length mirror, naked, the dildo in hand.

"F-fuck," she whispered, her reflection flushed, her nipples pebbled.

She’d never taken anything this thick.

The lube—stolen from the same drawer—slicked her fingers as she worked herself open, her breath hitching at the stretch. One finger, then two, her hips rocking into her own touch, her gaze flicking between the mirror and the screen where Stefano pushed—

"Relax, Maria," his voice growled from the speakers. "Take it like a good whore."

Miranda’s free hand squeezed the dildo, her thumb rubbing over the molded head.

"F-fuck me," she begged her reflection, the young woman's soft contralto trembling with arousal. "Fuck me like you fuck her."

The Stretch & The Surrender

The first inch burned.

Miranda bit her lip hard enough to taste copper, her thighs shaking as she lowered herself onto the toy, the silicone stretching her in a way her fingers never could. The mirror showed everything—the way her pussy strained, the way her stomach fluttered with each shallow thrust.

On screen, Stefano bottomed out, Maria’s scream muffled by the sheets.

"Yes," Miranda moaned, sinking deeper, her body aching.

She’d angled the toy just like the video—mimicking Stefano’s punishing rhythm, the way he’d dragged Maria back onto his cock with each retreat. Miranda's free hand found her clit, the slender vixen's lithe fingers circling in frantic, uneven strokes as the dildo filled her, the base pressing against her swollen lips with every movement.

"You like that?" she gasped, her voice high, broken. "Like fucking y-your best friend’s daughter?"

The fantasy consumed her. Stefano’s hands on her wide hips instead of Maria’s. The middle-aged man's mouth on her neck. His fat cock—this cock—stretching her out, a woman young enough to be Stefano's own daughter, ruining her petite body, making the raven-haired beauty scream—

Miranda's orgasm hit like a flood.

"F-FUCK!!"

The young woman’s back arched, her toned thighs clamping around the toy as her pussy spasmed, her release gushing down the shaft, the pale vixen's cry echoing off the walls.

The video played on, Stefano’s grunts mixing with her own whimpers.

Miranda didn’t stop.

She couldn’t.

Not when the dildo, Stefano's girthy cock felt this good.

Not when she could pretend to be in her mom's place—

The Aftermath & The Addiction

Hours later, Miranda lay sprawled on her bed, the toy still inside her, her body humming with oversensitivity. The laptop had long since dimmed, the video paused on Stefano’s smirk—the one he’d aimed at the door.

At her.

Had he known?

Why was their bedroom door... Yes theirs, no longer mom and dad's marital bed but the place where Maria, her mother, became a cheap whore, a slut for Stefano's fat cock every weekend, soiling the bedsheets with their sinful juices.

Why was it always perfectly cracked open, wide enough for Miranda to peep, gawk and even film the lustful lovers' affair.

Had Stefano wanted her to watch?

Miranda’s fingers trailed through the mess on her stomach, her thoughts hazy.

She’d return the dildo tomorrow.

Or…

Maybe she’d keep it.

Just a little longer.

Besides, Maria had access to the real thing.

Taking hold of the perfect replica between her hands, Miranda couldn't help but smirk.

"Let's say this is in exchange for my silence over her affair."

Her slutty mom could live without this.

Miranda couldn't. The pale beauty's lithe fingers traced the girthy dildo's outline, her grey eyes full of lustful longing...

"He is mine..."

She wasn't a young innocent girl, not anymore.