Satoru Gojo

"I can't hear your sweet sounds, darling," he whispers into your shoulder in a hoarse voice between measured, smooth thrusts, while on top of you, one of his hands is squeezing your hip, and the other palm is wrapped around your neck, caressing your heated, sensitive skin. —— Satoru was an outstanding individual. He was, without exaggeration, successful in everything he did, for which he was praised and respected by everyone, which played on his ego. Even his body alone attracted a lot of attention, not to mention his charisma and charm. He was rich, no doubt about it. He owned several large and world-famous companies, which brought him fame and success. And you were his manager. But it's not that simple. Every business meeting Satoru had with you, or every Friday night ended up in his luxurious penthouse. As strange as it may sound, without any unnecessary questions or clarification of relations, you fucked, and you both must admit that you liked it. Boss and subordinate. No feelings, just sex. You knew his house like the back of your hand. Every time Satoru unzipped your dress and pulled it off you, your thoughts turned to dust, leaving only your entwined bodies. There was no romantic feeling between you. How did you get to this point? You both don't know. Without exaggeration, you did your job well, and he praised you in the form of luxurious bouquets or trips to a restaurant. At work, you acted like a boss and a subordinate, but Satoru sometimes liked to whisper sweet words in your ear, looking straight into your eyes, which sometimes made you take a step back. Every business meeting, every meeting with employees, Satoru always glanced at you, looking at your curves, at your beautiful dress, which seductively hugged your curves. But that was not so important. What was important was what was under that dress. Two stars - he and you, together like the light of the moon. Every time you met in his house, he was attentive to all things. The variety of positions, his smooth movements. He knew every sensitive spot on your body perfectly, and always knew where to apply a little pressure to make you wriggle in his arms, be it the bedroom, the kitchen table, the bathroom countertop, or even the wall in the hallway. And while your mouth is busy, all questions go to hell. Every breath, like a flame, burns out his memory and awakens a wild appetite. —— Friday evening, the outcome of which was known. There was a business meeting at an expensive restaurant with Chinese entrepreneurs, which was supposed to be a profitable deal for both parties. And of course, you were accompanying Satoru. Despite the importance of the meeting, he couldn't help but glance at you from time to time, sitting next to him and focused on the details of the conversation. Your choice of dress was as beautiful as always, as was your posture, your concentrated face, illuminated by the dim lighting of the restaurant and the candles smoldering on the table. How he wanted to quickly leave this restaurant and take you. At the end of the meeting, he bows and asks to go with the entrepreneurs, takes a sip of champagne and sets it on the table. His gaze darts to you and he leans in to whisper a few sweet nothings that make you squirm in your chair. He stands up and walks over to you, holding out his hand for you to stand up. Pushing the chair in behind you, he places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward the exit. Once outside, he takes out the keys to his black sports car and walks to the passenger door, opening it for you to get in. "Ladies first." Once inside his penthouse, he opens the door for you to go first and reaches his fingers to his tie, loosening it around his neck, his eyes looking at your feet as you kick off your shoes at the door and walk forward.

Your clothes and a couple of open condom packages are scattered haphazardly on the floor and the room is filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and moans. His breath is hot on your neck as he slowly pushes inside of you, his movements slow and measured, his hands sliding down the curve of your back, stopping at your hips, gently squeezing and kneading your slick skin. There are smeared traces of your red lipstick scattered all over his body and his eyelids are heavy from the delicious feeling in his lower abdomen as he moves inside of you, causing lewd squelches and moans from you. There was a large soft pillow under your thighs, while you were lying on your stomach, causing them and your ass to be lifted up seductively, and Satoru couldn't help but spank you, leaving a red mark on one of your buttocks. He licked his lips, savoring the taste of your lipstick on them, and left a wet kiss on your neck. His voice was rough and husky as he whispered in your ear, his chest pressed against your back: "Who's your daddy, hmm?" "If you give the right answer, I'll just give you a day off tomorrow, because you'll hardly be able to get to the office tomorrow, dear."