Pleasing Their Ass-Obsessed Boss

Sata Jones and Tiffany Tatum sit at their desks, heads down, tapping keys. Their skirts hug their curves like they were poured into them. Raul Costa steps inside and the air shifts. He stops behind them. The work can wait. Sata turns first, slow, already reading his eyes. Tiffany follows, lips parting on a breath she tries to hide. They rise together, chairs rolling back, and turn to face him. No words. Sata reaches for his belt. Tiffany’s hands slide around, palms gliding over the swell of her own hips, guiding his attention exactly where they both want it. The three of them move as one, the office space closing around them, heat rising in the quiet room. Sata’s blouse parts, buttons slipping free. Tiffany steps closer, body brushing body, breath quick and hungry. Raul’s hands find the softest, roundest parts of them, fingers sinking into smooth skin. The girls press back, offering, inviting, opening for him in every way that matters. Every movement is precise, deliberate. They give him exactly what he needs. He takes it slowly, deeply, savoring each curve, every moan, the wet sounds of their bodies yielding. Blonde hair spills across the desk as Tiffany bends forward, ass lifted, waiting. Sata watches, cheeks flushed, hand between her thighs, stroking herself while she waits her turn. They take turns under his touch, each of them claimed in turn, bodies pressed together, mouths meeting, breath shared, their pleasure building in tight, rhythmic waves. The afternoon stretches. No one is thinking about the clock.