I’m balls deep into the brunette. What’s her name, you ask? Well, I have no fucking clue.

I don’t know the name of the other dark-haired one either. Nor do I know the name of the blonde chick currently fingering the fuck out of her wet pussy while she watches me ram the slutty brunette.

Her mouth contorts with pleasure as she twists and moans enthusiastically.

“That’s right, fuck yourself, you naughty little bitch,” I groan out as I continue to rail the shit out of this current girl’s pussy.

My cock makes a slippery, slick, suctioning sound as I thrust in and out of her. Our hips grind together and she mumbles something about not being able to walk afterwards but I don’t really give a shit what she does after we’re finished fucking each other’s brains out. I’m enjoying having my way with her, as I did with the other two little fucking sluts before her.

I grab her ass cheeks and pull them apart, exposing her tight little asshole. I watch as it puckers and squeezes in and out every time I rub my thumb against the circular rim. The girl continues to scream and wail in pleasure, giving me an ego boost that makes me want to nail her deeper and deeper, harder and harder.

Oh shit. Where the fuck are my manners. You’re probably wondering who the fuck I am and what gives me the fucking right to bang not one, not two, but three fucking dirty bitches at once, right?

Well, baby, I’m here to answer your questions. I’m Zane Tanner.

Yes, that Zane Tanner.

Don’t act so shocked. It’s okay.

I know it’s a lot to take in. You never thought you’d see me like this. Not after seeing my face splashed on the cover of every fucking gossip magazine. On the New York Daily Journal. On the financial pages.

Fuck, you’re probably wearing something that my manufacturing company created. I do of course own the largest manufacturing company in the entire country. And you know what?

I’m fucking proud of it.

I’m employing hundreds of thousands of hard working Americans. I’m doing God’s fucking work. People put food on the fucking table because I make my shit in the USA. You can’t fucking fault me.

Besides, all that shit put together just probably makes you very, very, fucking wet for me.

It’s okay, baby. I get that a lot.

I mean…take my company, for instance. I’m the current CEO, and if there’s one thing I love more than fucking hot girls, it’s telling people what to do. I get off on knowing I run the show with an iron fist, and what I say goes…well, let’s just say that I always get my fucking way no matter fucking what.

In case you’re chuckling to yourself right now, thinking who the fuck is this asshole, let me tell you exactly what will happen if you do meet me.

Say I’m in the city where you live. You’ll hear about it through your lady friends. Or you’ll read about it in the local section of your newspaper. Maybe you’ll be shopping and you hear the person in line talking about it.

You won’t know what fucking hit you.

You won’t care if you have to pick the kids up from school.

You’ll do whatever it fucking takes to get to where I’m at just to fucking see me.

Maybe even touch me.

And if I look at you? Your legs will shake.

If I smile, you’ll probably give your husband the best sex of his life that night.

And if I touch you?

Fuck, baby, you’ll probably cream all over those panties you’re wearing. Those panties my company probably manufactured.

Yeah, a big product line we do is lingerie. It’s sort of fitting, to tell the truth.

Plus, it’s made me a fuck ton of money.

I have my own yacht, my own jet, and I own three fucking houses. One is here in the finest city on earth, the city that never sleeps—the Big Apple. Whatever the fuck you want to call it, this is where my home base is.

I also have a house in Miami right on the fucking Atlantic, looking out to fucking dolphins and shit.

My last house is in Los Angeles, where I go quarterly just for business. I prefer to stay on the East Coast whenever possible. It’s not that I have something against the West Coast; I’m just an East Coast kind of guy.

I’m a Manhattan boy through and through, and I have the looks to solidify that stereotype. I have huge biceps and rock-hard abs. My hair is short, black, and always clean cut. My face doesn’t have a bit of hair on it.

I can’t stand a fucking five o’clock shadow. It itches the fuck out of me if it gets even a remote amount of stubble, so I go to the barber every fucking day to make sure that shit stays as fucking smooth as a baby’s ass.

Now, back to these bitches I’m nailing. Normally I like to have sex with the lower-level employees. It gives me a sense of power, and I can release some of that energy into the girls I fuck.

These girls I’m fucking right now are models, so they have a little bit of a higher quality advantage than the other girls I get off with.

Oh yeah, did I mention that I’m not in my own office having a fuck buddy party?

Nope, I’m in Piper Stewart’s office, the number one client of my manufacturing firm. She’s the current CEO of a huge lingerie company called Lacy Desirables.

She’s fucking hot as shit, but she’s untouchable. Wait, you are laughing, right?

Normally there’s no girl on this planet that’s outside of my sexual grasp, but Piper…well, she’s a fucking exception, to say the very least.

Piper hates me. Well, hate might be too strong of a term. But she sure as fuck doesn’t fucking like me or my “arrogant, egotistical maniac” personality or whatever the fuck she calls it.

We run hundreds of contracts together throughout the year and spend a lot of quality time together, minus the quality. We seal the deal and get the job done, and we move about our merry little fucking way, acting as professionally as possible.

My company has a major fucking contract to produce the lingerie that Piper’s company designs and sells. My mission today starts off innocently enough, I guess.

Although I already have sex on the brain nine times out of ten, my business is the sole reason I come to Piper’s offices.

Distraction set me off course, though, and in a big way. Walking down the hallway, I happened to run into these gorgeous models on their way out of the studio for a photo shoot.

Using my most undeniable charm, of course, how could they say no to such a brooding, handsome man such as myself?

They couldn’t, and they know I’m fucking loaded with stacks of cash in my fucking pockets, so of course they’re not going to fucking turn me down.

So now here we are, fucking all over Piper’s desk. It’s a fireable offense, sure. But only for a normal person. I’m the fucking owner of my company, and nobody is going to fucking tear me down.

I think about the brunette model being Piper instead and picture myself fucking Piper from behind. I can imagine her long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders as I pull on it and come with a near violent explosion.

I pull out of the model so I don’t get any splattering of my hot load inside of her.

I groan as I come, and I grab onto my thick, throbbing cock as hot jets of my cum shoot out onto Piper’s desk. I make sure that I get nearly all the surface area of the top of the desk. I want to leave her a nice sticky present.

“Holy shit,” I roar as I come. “This is a big fucking load.”

The blonde model takes some of the cum off the desk and licks it as she stares at me in a tantalizing fashion.

“That’s right, baby. You lick up every last fucking drop,” I groan.

“What the fuck is going here?!” I hear in the next breath.

At first I think it’s one of the models marveling at how much fucking cum I have inside me, but then I can’t help but recognize that gorgeous, sexy, seductive voice, even if she’s not trying to sound that way.

I can’t deny that the thought of getting caught in the act excites me a little, and here I am, dripping cock in hand, staring Piper’s smoldering look in the face.

“Piper!” I say, tossing her a sly wink as I jump back into my Gucci dress pants. “What a pleasant surprise.”

She stands there, frozen in shock, unable to move.

She’s looking at the large pool of cum on her desk.

God, she’s so fucking gorgeous.

I wonder who’s going to clean it up?

Guess you’ll have to read to find out, won’t you?

Just a warning, baby. You saw what happened just now. You still got a whole hell of a lot to finish. I’d go find someplace private if you want to keep going.

Don’t say I didn’t fucking warn you.