MY NETORI SYSTEM

April 24, 2026. The Atlanta evening felt almost smug, the sky a deep indigo with streaks of orange from the setting sun, the kind of twilight that made even the traffic below look poetic. David had kept the condo intentionally minimal for the night: soft lighting from a single floor lamp, the king bed made with fresh white sheets, a chilled bottle of water on the nightstand, and the balcony doors slightly open to let in the faint hum of the city and the cool post-rain breeze. No group planning. No spreadsheets. No empire metrics glowing on the big screen.

Just Lauren.

She arrived at 8:04 p.m., the navy silk slip dress clinging to her like it was painted on, the fabric so thin her dark nipples were already standing at attention, no bra, no panties as instructed. Her long dark hair was loose and slightly tousled, lips glossy, eyes carrying that familiar mix of hunger and the quiet thrill of sneaking away from her husband.

The moment the door clicked shut, she kicked off her heels and walked straight to him with a wry little smile.

"Derek just texted me ’Don’t forget we have that charity thing next week,’" she said, voice dripping with dry amusement. "I replied ’Of course, honey’ while I was literally in the Uber on my way here to get railed by the man who’s about to own half his fund. The irony is so thick I could spread it on toast."

David chuckled low, pulling her close by the waist. "You’re getting bold with the sarcasm. Careful, or I’ll make you say it out loud while I’m inside you."

Lauren’s eyes sparkled with challenge. "Promise? Because I’ve been practicing in the mirror. ’Derek, your fund is doing great... but David’s doing better.’"

He kissed her then—slow and deep at first, then hungrier, his hands sliding down to grip her ass through the thin silk. She moaned into his mouth, the sound turning into a soft laugh when he nipped her bottom lip.

"God, I needed that," she murmured against his lips. "Derek tried to kiss me goodbye this morning and I almost laughed in his face. His ’good morning’ peck feels like a corporate memo compared to this."

David walked her backward toward the bedroom, the silk slip already slipping off one shoulder. "Keep talking. I want to hear exactly how pathetic he is while I remind you who this body belongs to now."

He pushed the slip down completely as they reached the bed. It pooled at her feet. She stood naked in front of him—full breasts rising and falling with each breath, dark nipples tight and begging, flat stomach, curved hips, thighs already slick with arousal.

"Show me how wet you are for a real man," he said, voice low.

Lauren bit her lip with a playful smirk, sat on the edge of the bed, and spread her thighs wide. Her pussy was visibly glistening—swollen, slick, clit peeking out, dark folds flushed and wet.

"Been like this since lunch," she confessed, voice teasing. "I was in a board meeting pretending to listen to quarterly reports while secretly clenching my thighs thinking about you stretching me. Derek emailed me during it asking if I wanted sushi for dinner. I replied ’I’m craving something thicker’ and then deleted it before sending. Almost gave myself away."

David knelt between her legs. He kissed her inner thigh slowly, deliberately, then the other. Blew a cool breath over her clit. She shivered, hips twitching.

He licked once—long, flat stroke from entrance all the way to her clit. She gasped, back arching.

"Better than Derek?" he asked, tongue hovering just above her.

"Fuck—yes," she laughed breathlessly, the sound turning into a moan. "He’s small, gentle, and finishes faster than a bad PowerPoint presentation. I fake every orgasm so convincingly I deserve an Oscar. You? You make me forget my own name."

He ate her ravenously—tongue circling her clit in tight, deliberate spirals, sucking gently then harder, two fingers sliding inside her, curling against her front wall with steady, rhythmic pressure. She rocked against his face, moaning brokenly, one hand fisting the sheets while the other tangled in his hair.

"Tell me exactly how useless he is," David murmured against her, voice vibrating through her.

"He never eats me—says it’s ’too much effort’ like I’m asking him to file taxes manually. I lie there afterward staring at the ceiling, frustrated, touching myself while he snores. I’ve been fantasizing about you for weeks—imagining you bending me over his desk while he’s on a conference call."

He sucked her clit hard, fingers pumping faster. She shattered—sudden and violent. Squirting across his chin and chest, thighs trembling uncontrollably, a sharp, laughing cry tearing from her throat. "Oh my god—yes—fuck—"

He didn’t stop—kept licking through the aftershocks, fingers stroking slow and deep until she was whining, oversensitive, weakly pushing at his head.

"David—please—too much—I can’t—"

He rose, unzipped, and freed his cock—thick, hard, veins standing out, pre-cum beading at the tip. He rubbed the head through her soaked folds, coating himself, teasing her entrance with shallow dips.

"Beg properly," he said, voice rough. "Like the fund wife who knows her husband’s money is about to fund her new life."

Lauren’s eyes were glassy, cheeks flushed, a wicked little grin breaking through. "Please—fuck me—fill me—ruin me for that boring, small-dicked hedge-fund husband of mine. Breed me while he’s checking stock tickers. Make me yours so completely that every time he kisses me goodnight I’m still leaking you."

He slammed in—one brutal, deep thrust. Buried to the hilt. She screamed—pleasure-pain mixing with laughter, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Fuck—yes—so full—so deep—Derek could never stretch me like this. He feels like a polite handshake. You feel like a hostile takeover."

He pounded—deep, rhythmic strokes that made the bed creak. Her breasts bounced freely. He grabbed one, squeezed hard, rolled the nipple between his fingers while thrusting.

"Keep going," he growled.

"He’s nothing—small—quick—I fake every moan so convincingly I should get a bonus. You? You make me squirt like a broken sprinkler system. I’m ruined. Completely ruined."

He angled deeper, hitting her spot over and over. She came a second time—violent, whole body convulsing, pussy clamping and squirting hard down his shaft and onto the sheets. She laughed through the orgasm, breathless and wrecked. "See? Sprinkler system. Derek never even gets a drip."

He flipped her onto her stomach—ass up, face pressed to the sheets. Slammed back in from behind. Spanked her ass hard—red handprint blooming on tan skin.

"Beg for my cum."

"Please—fill me—breed me—make me carry your baby while Derek raises it thinking it’s his. Make me walk around his house leaking you every day."

He pounded faster—deep, punishing strokes, balls slapping her clit wetly. She reached back, rubbed her clit furiously while he railed her.

Came again—screaming into the pillow, pussy clamping like a vice, squirting hard onto the mattress.

He buried deep—groaned loud. Came hard—thick, endless pulses flooding her. She whimpered—clenching, drawing out every drop, body shaking with aftershocks.

He stayed inside her—twitching, leaking—then pulled out slow. Watched his cum drip from her swollen pussy—thick white trails running down her thighs.

She rolled over—breathless, wrecked, a satisfied, slightly dazed grin on her face. Pulled him down for a slow, filthy kiss—tasting herself on his tongue.

"Again?" she whispered, voice hoarse but playful. "Because I have a whole list of Derek insults saved up. I’ve been workshopping them in the shower."

He laughed low. "All night. Start with the PowerPoint one."

They fucked for hours.

Second round: her riding him—slow, grinding rolls at first, then frantic bouncing, tits in his face. He sucked her nipples while she rode—moaning how Derek never lasted long enough for her to come on top. She shattered twice—squirting across his stomach—before he flipped her, finished in missionary—flooding her again.

Third: prone-bone on the rug—face down, ass up. Slow, deep thrusts. Whispering in her ear how she’d never go back to Derek’s bed. She begged—sobbing with pleasure and laughter—came so hard she squirted onto the floor. He pulled out at the last second—came across her ass, watched it run down her skin while she joked breathlessly, "That’s going to be hard to explain in the dry cleaning."

Fourth: shower. Bent her over—fucked her against the tile. Water cascading. She came quietly at first, then louder—whispering his name like prayer mixed with sarcastic commentary about Derek’s "corporate stamina." He filled her one last time—slow pulses—then held her as she trembled, both of them laughing softly under the spray.

Fifth: back on the bed. Missionary again—slow, eye-locked, deep. She came hard—squirting, begging to be bred. He flooded her—deep, claiming—while she murmured between moans, "Derek’s going to raise your kid and thank me for the ’family planning.’"

They collapsed—sweaty, tangled, breathing ragged, both grinning. She curled against his chest—hand tracing lazy circles on his stomach.

"I’m yours," she whispered, voice hoarse but still carrying that sharp wit. "Derek is nothing but a walking Excel spreadsheet. The fund is ours because of you. And I can’t wait to watch you take the rest of it."

David stroked her hair. "Good girl. We’ll take the whole fund. The empire takes care of its own."

Codex pinged softly in the dark:

[Lauren – Loyalty: 100%. Full Claim Reinforced.]

[Cash Deposit: $145,000 – "Hedge-Fund Wife Full Claim + Funding Round Leverage Bonus."]

[Liquid Net Worth: $2,074,342]

[Harem Loyalty Average: 100%. All Seven Fully Locked.]

[New Passive: "Locked Circle (Lv.1)" – All seven wives grant permanent 25% reduction in husband suspicion growth rate.]

Group chat lit up as they lay there, the women checking in with their usual mix of updates and teasing:

Elena 🔥: How was she? Did she compare Derek to a bad Excel formula again?

Sophia: Brian’s mediation fallout ongoing. Shields holding. More referrals coming.

Victoria: Caleb’s pitch follow-up went well. One investor wants a private consult.

Nadia: Ethan’s asking questions. Mediator tomorrow.

Priya: Raj distracted. Fee posted.

Rebecca: Condo keys ready. When’s my turn?