Shizuku Hutaba’s pulse hammered in her throat the moment the elevator doors slid open to reveal the glass-walled boardroom on the forty-seventh floor. She knew why she was here, why every male executive had summoned her at 11:00 p.m. sharp. The rumors had flown for weeks: the busty Japanese office lady who wore translucent blouses just to tease them, the one who whispered creampie fantasies at the copier, the one who begged for group sex with her eyes every time they passed. Tonight, they’d stop imagining. Tonight, they’d film every second for the uncensored debut already trending on JAVTube.
She stepped inside, stiletto heels clicking like warning shots. Twelve suits, ties loose, cocks already bulging, circled the glossy mahogany table. The projector glowed with her own HR file blown up ten feet wide: Shizuku’s personnel photo, braless beneath a silk camisole, nipples hard enough to cut glass. The CFO, Tanaka-san, gestured at the swivel chair placed directly beneath the lens.
“Shizuku-chan, we’re ready for your performance review. Strip.”
Her fingers flew to the pearl buttons of her blazer. Fabric whispered down her shoulders, revealing creamy skin flushed pink under the fluorescent glare. Gasps rippled; one younger trader already palmed himself through his trousers. She unhooked her bra slowly, letting heavy F-cup breasts spill free, nipples aching, glistening with anticipation. The Japanese office lady fantasy was about to become raw flesh.
Tanaka snapped the camera on. 4K, unblinking. Shizuku crawled onto the table on all fours, ass high, skirt rucked up to expose lace panties soaked through with her own excitement. Someone ripped the fabric away with a primal growl; another hand smeared lube across her slit, prepping her for what was coming. Cocks surged forward, thick and pulsing, veins throbbing against the cool air. She opened her mouth instinctively, engulfing the nearest shaft, tasting salt and steel. The group sex energy crackled like live wire.
They rotated around her, feeding her mouth, her hands, her dripping pussy. Each thrust sent shockwaves through her body; each grunt echoed off glass walls. She’d begged for this, craved it, and now she was nothing but a living onahole for corporate power. Words fell from her lips in breathless Japanese: “Motte… matte… ippai shite!”—“fill me… wait… fill me completely!” The camera zoomed tight on her stretched entrance, semen already pooling at the entrance in a creampie shot framed to perfection.
Tanaka pulled out last, roaring as he slammed deep and unloaded. His seed mixed with the previous loads, overflowing, dripping down her thighs in thick ribbons. Shizuku collapsed face-first onto the mahogany, breasts mashed, body trembling through the aftershocks. Every man stepped back, zipping up, satisfied she’d been ruined for any other employer. They left her there, naked, leaking, marked by the Japanese office lady stigma she’d weaponized into pure, unfiltered desire.
When the footage hit the internet at dawn, the search term “Shizuku Hutaba uncensored” broke servers across Tokyo. Comments flooded in: “That creampie overflow is art,” “Best group sex scene ever,” “She’s every salaryman’s dream turned real.” By noon, her inbox brimmed with invites from rival firms. None could match the raw, primal hunger she’d unleashed. Shizuku smiled at the camera still recording her, licked the last stray drop from her lips, and whispered, “Round two starts in my corner office tomorrow… or maybe on live stream.”