Banging the Hot MILFs of Tokyo

Yuki stared at Sayuri for a second too long, his brain being rammed at once with so much reasoning.

He knew what sort of party she was talking about. The kind that had all females either in swimsuit or completely naked.

'A party? With her? A girl that looks like she walked straight out of my fucking dream... and she's inviting me?'

His eyes lowered to her hand still scrolling her phone, and then to the gentle sway of her ponytail as she casually flicked it over her shoulder. All though she had her upper body covered in a baggy sweatshirt, she had no bra on either making her boobs and nipples see through. This is definitely real.

His brows furrowed slightly going to the study session he was to have with Renji. He lowered his gaze to the rice bowl again, but his mind was already spiraling.

"No way. This has to be one of those hidden camera shows, right? Or some weird twist from this system that's been screwing with me since it 'activated.' But... fuck it, a hot girl asks me out to a party—how the hell am I supposed to say no?"

A sudden boldness surged through him, his spine straightening. He made the decision in a twinkle of an eye and dropped his chopsticks gently onto the porcelain bowl and looked up. Sayuri was still half-focused on her phone, like she hadn't even been waiting. But the moment their eyes met, her lips twitched slightly—just enough to show that she was.

"Yeah," he said, voice clearer now. "I'm open to going to a party."

Sayuri glanced up fully now, her eyebrow slightly arched in amusement. "That so?" she mused. "Cool." She tucked her phone back into her sweatshirt pouch and returned to eating, not adding anything further. "Why don't we finish eating Yuki?"

Yuki's cheeks bloomed red translating 'eating' in so many ways. The heck he'd beg to eat her right now.

Sayuri didn't say anything more, just returned her attention to the bowl before her like nothing had happened. Like she hadn't just flipped Yuki's internal world on its axis.

Yuki, on the other hand, was barely tasting the food anymore. His thoughts drifted with every soft movement she made—the clink of her chopsticks against the ceramic bowl, the way her sweatshirt hung just low enough to tease what was underneath. It was maddening.

Then, just as he was about to force his mind back into neutral territory, Sayuri stretched her arms above her head, yawning like a cat. "Let me go change," she said casually, already rising from her seat and turning down the hallway without waiting for his reaction.

Yuki blinked, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth.

Change?

What the hell was she going to wear if she was already in practically nothing?

His brain short-circuited for a few seconds before his body kicked into autopilot. He stood up and wandered away from the table, his legs carrying him into the living room while his mind still wrestled with fragments of dangerous, indulgent thoughts.

The living room had a strange hush to it, a space filled with artificial calm and faint hums from appliances. Yuki let himself drop onto the couch, needing to breathe—really breathe—and cool off.

It didn't take more than a few minutes of waiting, though to Yuki, it felt like an hour. He paced once, twice, then collapsed into the couch, trying not to imagine what Sayuri was changing into. He turned on the TV for distraction but barely registered the voices buzzing from the screen.

Then—

"Alright, ready."

Yuki's head snapped up.

Sayuri stood at the edge of the hallway, now hell-fully dressed… well, if that counted as a sort of dressing.

On her thin eight figure body was a tiny nude crop top with crisscrossing straps that clunging to her skin and a mini denim skirt that barely met half way down her thigh.

Her legs were the most beautiful sexy creation Yuki had come in contact with, so smooth, and long, and her hair was now down—loose and slightly tousled like she'd shaken it out just for the hell of it.

Her lips had a deep cherry red lip gloss on it, and she had thrown on a matching silvery black choker on her neck that matched with the high knee boots she had on.

Yuki's brain stopped functioning for two full seconds while he took in her appearance. One hellish beauty standing in front of him. She had a plain expression as she pooped her hand into the sides of her handbag taking a breath mint from the corner.

Sayuri grabbed a small side bag and slung it over her shoulder. She held out her phone, switching over to camera to give a pouting look for a snap. "You coming, or are you just going to sit there and gawk all night?"

Her eyes fell on Yuki feeling a bit awkward that he had been staring right at her since she came downstairs.

"I—yeah. Yeah, I'm coming," Yuki said, quickly getting to his feet, trying not to trip over the air itself if possible. Sayuri gave a little smirk and turned for the door, pausing midway so he could help open the door.

"Good. Then let's go, party boy."

********

It was the wildest ride Yuki had in his life. Started off slowly at the bumps and then with speed, coursing through the bends of the road. He did throw up five times—imaginary. His grip crept up to his seatbelt and his eyes diverting to the free willed spirit in the driver's seat.

Sayuri drove like she lived: recklessly confident, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the volume of the loud R& B tune or flipping her hair back causally. And just when he thought they'd crash into a lamp post or a Ferrari or maybe get a speeding ticket for driving 35km/hr.

She spun the steering wheel, the car swerving to the right and going straight into a secret underground parking lot, and braked with a perfect, slightly-too-hard jerk.

"Fuck, that was close. Damn..." Sayuri sighed, her chest rasing up and falling down with every inhale and exhale she took. She flipped her hair sideways, looking through the mirror to adjust few things with her makeup and then flung the keys straight into Yuki's lap.

"Catch."

Yuki fumbled, catching them with a confused blink.

Then Sayuri leaned back in her seat, totally chill, like what she was about to say was no big deal. "So. Why I brought you here…"

She popped her lips and gave a slow blink. "My butler bailed on me last minute, so congrats. You're the replacement."

Yuki stared at her. "Huh?"

"The job's easy," she continued, already getting out of the car and smoothing her skirt down. "Just carry some bags, act useful, look hot standing beside me. You can do that, right?"

Yuki opened his mouth, then shut it again. What the actual hell?

"Oh, and the pay's three grand." She winked. "Dollars."

Yuki didn't move for a moment. His brain was stuck somewhere between What? and Seriously?

He rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "Rich people and downgrading the poor like it's a side quest."

Sayuri leaned back into the open car door, one brow raised. "You say something?"

Yuki forced a smile, trying to keep it cool. "Good." She straightened up. "Let's go then, Butler Yuki."

He stepped out of the car, muttering again, "If I'm Butler Yuki, I better have a sword or something..."

She was already halfway to the elevator.

Yuki pocketed the keys and followed after her, having absolutely no clue what kind of insanity he was walking into. He watched as she came out of the car and walked into the entrance and when it finally dawned on him that he had no way of entering into the venue, Yuki pinched himself.

"Great!" He threw his hands up in the air, tossing the keys over to the securities to have the car parked and picking a number from the lottery box. The security guard caught the keys midair, arching an eyebrow at Yuki as if to say, You sure you belong here? Yuki didn't have the energy to answer that silent judgment. He already felt like a confused background character in someone else's rich-people fever dream.

He turned to the side, finding a clear acrylic box on a pedestal marked with a sleek gold plaque:

"Lucky Entrance Draw—1 in 50 Wins VIP Access"

Just his luck. Of course the party had a lottery. Because walking through a door like a normal person wasn't exclusive enough.

Yuki shoved a hand in, fingers brushing over glossy laminated numbers, each one probably holding some ridiculous fate. He picked one without looking.

007

"Can I see your invitation card?"

"Came here with a guest."

The security guard didn't look impressed. His eyes skimmed Yuki's disheveled form, then drifted to the number card in his hand.

"007?" The man's brows rose. "You don't look like a James Bond."

Yuki sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again. "I came with Sayuri."

"Sayuri who?"

Yuki blinked. "You know… Sayuri. Ponytail, criminally hot, drives like a maniac, and paid me to be her butler tonight."

The security guard didn't budge. "We've got three Sayuris already inside. Invitation or no entry. Rule's a rule."

Yuki groaned and rubbed the back of his neck, already considering whether turning around and heading home would preserve what little dignity he had left. But before he could formulate something, a voice rang out,

"Let him in."