Hot Japanese office tart celebrates with her counterpart – trickling with XXX!
The intra-office dynamics in Japan’s corporate world are typically characterized by conservative norms and heavily regulated work environments. But what happens when a few daring Japanse secretary tartlets decide to throw caution to the wind and indulge in a little uninhibited fun? Well, it seems an eagerly buzzing, wet, warm hole doesn’t discriminate based on cultural boundaries – it craves satisfaction.
Enter the delectable duo, Akari and Saiko, both stunning translator secretaries in their early thirties. These sultry sirens spend long hours together in air-conditioned parlors, hunched over desks shaping international business deals. But behind the philanthropic facade lies a naughty plot they’ve hatched. A way to liven up the corporate drudgery.
One sultry afternoon, the foxy pair confiscate the meeting room, bolting it from the inside. Akari procures a bottle of nihonshu, the traditional Japanese rice wine, and huskily extends it to her voluptuous co-conspirator. Saiko grasps the bottle, giggling, her mess of dark hair swaying. “We can’t keep working these long hours without a tincture to wet our throats”, she coos, needing no encouragement.
As the amber liquor seeps through their lips, a barrier is breached. The sweet intoxicant steadily reduces inhibitions. Saiko claims the initiative, shimmying out of her pencil skirt to reveal heart-stopping milky thighs sheathed in sheer black stockings. Akari’s eyes glint as they scope the tantalising morsel offered to her. She leans in, murmuring, “You’re such a bad girl, Saiko-chan.”
dissohering, Akari and Saiko go at it like two pneumatic drills attacking the same coal seam. Tongues entwine in the humid cavern of their mouths as soft, hungry whimpers echo against the glass walls. Clothing eviscerates, leaving ample teenage bodies flushed and heaving, pulsating with need. They tumble onto the carpet, a tangle of limbs and entangled undergarments. Akari zeroes in, burying her face between fleshy, glistening thighs, savoring the warm trickle of Saiko’s juices.
While Akari services her partner, Saiko busies herself, alternating licks and sucks toAkari’s clit. The secretaries moan and gasp, delirious with sensation. Sweat glistens on their bare bodies as they grind together, increasing the tempo. It’s strained movement, ribald slurping melding with the ticking clock in a frenzied crescendo. They’re well aware anyone could catch them, adding an irresistible thrill.
Akari starts to quiver, approaching her peak. She slides a finger into Saiko, feeling the wet heat clench around it. Saiko buckles, crying out, surrendering to the intensity. Their climax is simultaneous, powering through their bodies. Wave after wave crashes over them as they ride it out, pumping and undulating. For those exquisite moments, nothing else exists but the yearning ache assuaged within each undulating, panting secretary.
Afterwards, Akari and Saiko indulge in deep, smoldering kisses. Slick, yoga-like bodies entwine in pliant repose, flush with the markings of passion. The effects from the nihonshu have long dissipated, replaced by a heady new cocktail of hormones and pheromones. Both women feel positively wicked – a dangerous tandem punch.
“Another successful transaction,” Saiko quips with hoarse satisfaction.
Akari laughs, the carefree sound a siren’s melody. “Indeed. We should make these syncopations a biweekly ritual.”
If the diligent co-workers continue slipping away to tryst when the corporate lights dim, conjecture and rumors will surely swirl on the graphed hallways, hinted in sharpened stares and stifled sniggers. But Akari and Saiko will continue undeterred, reaping the mutual pleasure of their bad-girl pact, all while batting timidly at their cheeks, demure but shrewd.
And so it transpires – these Japanese secretaries and their coy, enticing transactions. Such a more potent and stimulating way to lubricate the machinery of Japan’s corporate machine than overpriced coffee and dry crackers, don’t you think?
