Jennifer Love Hewitt Fake Porn の小説・ストーリー

she asked, voice low. “No,” he answered, voice hoarse. “Tonight will be the first time.” She stepped away for a moment. Returned with the strap-on she had bought weeks earlier: black leather harness, medium realistic silicone dildo with pronounced veins and a wide base. Hellen put it on calmly, adjusting the straps around her hips. The fake cock swayed between her legs, threatening and arousing. Jaston heard the sound of the lube bottle opening. Felt the cold gel at his entrance. Hellen circled slowly with her finger, pressing lightly. Slid the tip inside. He gasped, body clenching.

“He's not wrong, the video is fake, just a fabrication. Stop crying. You're such a crybaby to be a girl.” “Even though it's a fake video, it doesn't mean I can just get used to it after watching it, right?” Syila looked at her brother with a pitiful expression. “Just try to imagine, the girl you like turns out to have porn videos with other guys. Even though it's a fake video, can you really get used to it when you see her again?” Rein took a deep breath. “No.”

I am the stupid husband who loves my womanizing wife. I seat in the chair in front of the mirror. Took the lotion and applied it to my fair and smooth thighs. I'm still glancing at Zedrick, I'm checking to see if he'll even peek or drool at me. But it's still no effect, I've overcome the wind that doesn't even see me. But he can feel it because of the aromatic smell that comes from the lotion I use.

He’d managed to make me wet with just a few words. I opened my eyes to the sound of someone pounding on the door as if they were going to tear it off its hinges. “Yes?” I shouted in a groggy voice. “Change your clothes and get out here. I think we finally found your fake husband.” Hah! I let out a sound. My fake husband was him, he must have forgotten! Wait, no! My eyes snapped open. Had they found the fake Darian?

If I ignored her only post on Facebook, I might really believe she was totally innocent. ‘I've found the man I want to spend my life with. I hope you have too.’ It was a chat screenshot. The person she chatted with had a familiar blue wave avatar. He: [Do you refuse to come home because of me?] She: [He loved me a lot.] He: [Then what am I in your heart?} It was the day before New Year's Eve four years ago. Reading that, I suddenly laughed. It turned out that I was just a tool he used to force Scarlett to come back from the very beginning.

Smiled like he’d already won. “Deal.” Fourteen days later, I was losing my mind. Two. Days. Left. And nothing. Every woman I met? Not it. Either fake, shallow, or didn’t even get past a full sentence without annoying me. “You could just hire someone,” Ben had said on our way out of the building one last night. A fake girlfriend. The idea was stupid. Risky. And fake. Just like the women I was supposed to be avoiding. “No way,” I told him.

His usual stoic expression was replaced with a faint smirk, a drink in his hand. My stomach twisted as I stared at the picture, my mind racing. The timestamp showed it had been taken only moments ago. A second message followed, just two words: "Is this love?" I dropped the phone onto the couch, my heart pounding. Was this someone trying to manipulate me? Or was Adrian really the man in that picture—a man who could so easily disregard everything we were building, even if it wasn’t real? He really was who I thought he was. I couldn’t decide what was worse—the image itself or the hollow ache it left behind.

The Potter family's bodyguards exchanged shocked whispers, stunned that their poised and dignified lady was secretly so depraved. Sean shot to his feet, bellowing, "It's fake, generated by AI! Jerome, you despicable rat! To push for divorce, you're resorting to these despicable tactics?" He jabbed a finger at Megan, adding, "You can't trick me. The woman next to you is a notorious hacker. Faking videos is child's play for her." Megan raised an eyebrow, clicking open another clip. "Is that so? Care to explain why you're shirtless at Martha's place at 3:30 in the morning?"

"He's your son? Are you trying to tell us that Dixon Smith is your husband? Take a good look at yourself! If you're going to lie, at least make it believable. Don't make me call the police!" I wasn't afraid of that. "That's right. Dixon is my husband. Go ahead and call the police. I'd love to see who they arrest when they arrive." As soon as I said that, everyone thought I had lost my mind. "So, Samuel Storm is your father, and Dixon Smith is your husband. Elizabeth, you're delusional! Just wait. I'm calling the police right now. Let's see how you explain yourself then." Yvonne pulled out her phone and began dialing the police.

"If it weren't for Jennifer, who knows how many times you would've been deceived? She's helping you filter out the trash. You should be thanking her." I opened my mouth, but not a single word came out. It was true—none of my five former fiancés were decent men. But how much better was Jennifer? Before breaking off each engagement, I had secretly checked their phones. Jennifer had sent them countless explicit photos—every set of lingerie she wore was practically see-through. She even asked them, "Do you want to hear what I sound like in bed?" The whole thing disgusted me. Jennifer leaned closer, her voice laced with smug satisfaction.