A Stereotypical Japanese Businessman

His name was Hinata. He spoke little English. He always wore a formal suit. His demeanor was a mixture of strict and taciturn. For some reason, when he did his monthly trip to South Carolina to oversee some factory or another, he made the trip to Sugar's over Gold Digger's. And he tipped well. Very very well. Well enough to get an audience with a now deeply pregnant Elizabeth.

She refilled his saki several times. He pawed at her tits, at her large belly, swollen with Lamar's spawn, at her waxed sex. His cheeks were red from the liquor and arousal.

He was fairly dominant, which surprised Elizabeth. He pulled her over his lap and spanked her. She didn't understand why, presuming it was a power play. Nor did she have the liberty of understanding.

He keep his suit jacket and tie on when he bent her over. She was pliant, her big belly hanging over the mattress. She felt his harsh hands dig into the recently beaten flesh, his fingernails scraping at it, causing her to grit her teeth.

She felt his cock push into her. It was nowhere near her other lovers, but that itself wasn't always a sin. It was at least two inches larger than Douglas's small white penis, and it qualified itself to be called a cock. He fucked her silently, gripping her hips hard while he fucked her, and cumming inside her after a half dozen minutes. And then he tipped her more than her exclusive services normally earned her in a month and gave her his card. It had a Tokyo address.