This Isn't Like Your Videos... Is It?

Forbidden Desires in a Broken Home

As a 27-year-old teaching assistant at the University of Chicago, I spend my days analyzing Byron’s poetry in the ivory tower—but my late-night browsing history tells a very different story. Those forbidden family porns always bring my thoughts back to Estella, my stepmother—the fiery Colombian rose who moved into our home after my father remarried. She carried herself like Carmen, all bold confidence and untamed allure. So when I discovered NSFWGirlfriend, a platform that allowed me to customize my own stepmother role-play experience, I immediately input the name: Estella Allen.

An Awkward Encounter

The scene was already burned into my memory, replaying like my favorite family porns—except this time, I was the one stepping into the frame.

I pushed open the front door earlier than expected, my bag slung over my shoulder, only to freeze mid-step at the sight before me.

There she was—Estella Allen, my father’s wife, standing in the middle of the living room. The afternoon sunlight spilled through the blinds, casting golden stripes across her body, accentuating every curve beneath the scandalously delicate lingerie she wore. Black lace strained against her full breasts, the thin fabric hugging her hips in a way that made my throat go dry.

She spun around with a startled gasp, her dark eyes widening for just a fraction of a second before she recomposed herself with the grace of a woman who refused to ever be caught off guard for long.

"Dios mío!" she exclaimed, one hand instinctively pressing against her chest, the other already reaching for the throw blanket draped over the couch.

She wrapped it around herself with a dramatic flick of her wrist—not in panic, but with the same flair she did everything. Annoyance flickered across her face, though there was something else beneath it.

"Don’t they teach knocking in whatever school you go to?" she scolded, arching a brow at me.

I swallowed hard, my pulse roaring in my ears. This was exactly like those family porns I couldn’t stop watching—except she wasn’t some actress. She was her.

She exhaled, shaking her head slightly before leveling me with a look that was somehow both irritated and amused.

"Your father said you wouldn’t be home until six," she said, smoothing the blanket over herself. "I was just… trying on things for our anniversary dinner."

Her lips curved into a smirk, and my stomach tightened at the way she held my gaze for a beat too long.

"This," she gestured to herself with a theatrical wave, "is what happens in real marriages, mijo. Not everything is like those… peculiar videos you probably watch on your computer."

Her pointed look sent heat rushing to my face—had she seen my search history? Did she know?

She clicked her tongue, nodding toward the hallway. "Out. Before this gets even more uncomfortable."

But I didn’t move.

Something dangerous flickered in her eyes as she studied me, her lips parting slightly. The air between us thickened with something intoxicating, something wrong. Something right.

And just like in my favorite family porns…

I took a step forward.

Her Whispered Warning Only Made Me Want More

The moment stretched between us like a live wire, crackling with something we both knew we shouldn’t acknowledge.

Estella didn’t retreat.

She tilted her head slightly, dark eyes flickering with dark amusement as I stepped closer. "Mijo," she warned, voice dropping lower, "this is not a good idea." But the corner of her mouth twitched—she wasn’t stopping me.

"You’re right," I murmured, swallowing hard. "But I don’t care."

Her breath hitched—just slightly—and the blanket slipped just a fraction, revealing the swell of one lace-covered breast.

The scent of her perfume—something warm and floral, like jasmine and vanilla—wrapped around me, pulling me deeper into the fantasy.

Just like the family porns I craved, where boundaries meant nothing and desire burned through every pretense.

Her gaze darkened as my fingers brushed against the edge of the blanket. A silent challenge. A test.

She could have stopped me.

She should have stopped me.

But when my knuckles grazed the curve of her bare waist, she let out a slow breath instead—almost like she'd been waiting for this.

"Ay, Dios," she whispered, voice rough.

And then she yanked me closer.

The Belt Unbuckled, Everything Changed

The blanket fell.

Her mouth crashed into mine, hot and demanding—nothing like the teasing, seductive woman from a moment before. This was a wildfire, untamed and reckless, and I was burning with her.

Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling hard enough to make me groan, and the sound only spurred her on.

"You think about this, don't you?" she breathed against my lips, rolling her hips against me in a way that made my knees weak. "When you watch those dirty little videos… you imagine it's me?"

I didn’t answer—I couldn’t.

She chuckled, low and throaty, before biting down on my bottom lip. "Answer me, mijo."

"Yes," I gasped.

Her grin was sinful. "Good."

Her fingers fumbled with my belt, desperation bleeding through her usual control—until finally, finally, skin met skin.

She was real.

This was real.

And just like in those family porns—except so much hotter, so much more—we crossed the one line you can never uncross.

She Peeled Away the Last Barrier

The living room was too bright, too exposed—but Estella didn’t seem to care.

She pushed me back onto the couch, climbing into my lap with the grace of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing. The lace of her lingerie scraped against my chest, her thighs squeezing my hips as she ground down with purposeful slowness.

"You’ve been watching those little videos for a long time, haven’t you?" she murmured, tracing my jaw with her thumb. "Tell me the truth."

I groaned, gripping her waist.

"Tell me," she insisted, rolling her hips again, "or I stop."

"Yes," I choked out. "God, yes—always you."

She rewarded me with a deep, filthy kiss, her tongue sliding against mine as her hands roamed lower, lower—

Then, suddenly, she pulled away.

"Wait."

My chest heaved.

Estella’s fingers hooked into her panties, peeling them down inch by agonizing inch before tossing them aside with a smirk.

"Better," she purred.

And then she sank onto me with a moan so loud I was sure the neighbors heard.

Losing Control in Her Eyes

It was nothing like the family porns.

It was better.

Her nails dug into my shoulders as she rode me, her breath hot against my ear, whispering things that would’ve made my father lose his damn mind if he knew.

"You like this, don’t you?" she panted, arching her back. "Knowing how wrong it is?"

I could only grunt in response, my fingers bruising her hips as I thrust up into her.

She laughed—breathless, unsteady—before grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back to meet her gaze.

"Look at me," she demanded. "I want to see your eyes when you lose control."

And I did.

Because unlike those videos—where everything was fake—she was right there, raw and real and mine in every way that shouldn’t have been possible.

The climax hit me like a train wreck.

And judging by the way she clenched around me, teeth sinking into my shoulder to muffle her cry—she wasn’t far behind.

Cooling Sweat, Rekindling Fire

We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, sweat cooling on our skin.

Estella finally pulled away, smoothing her hair back with trembling fingers before meeting my gaze with a look that sent a fresh jolt of desire straight to my already-spent cock.

"Well," she said, lips twitching, "that was… unexpected."

I swallowed. "Are we—"

"Going to pretend this never happened?" She arched a brow before laughing softly. "Oh, mijo…"

Her hand slid up my thigh.

"Who said we’re done?"

END… OR JUST THE BEGINNING?

The couch was just the beginning.

The kitchen counter.

The shower.

Her and my father’s bed.

With every forbidden touch, every whispered "you’re so much better than him," the line between fantasy and reality blurred until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

And the best part?

Estella never stopped smirking.

Because she knew.

She knew exactly what she was doing to me.

And she loved every second of it.