Public Access Ch. 01

Last month I reported to my new job. I was hired by a local public access channel to be a handyman, grip and all round helper, including production assistance. I wasn't well qualified, but this was a small time operation in our mid-sized town.

The crew consisted of Buddy, the cameraman, and the station manger, Penny. There was a secretary and a radio station guy who nursed the sound boards. We mostly just piped through purchased programs, but we had a couple of local shows.

The heart of our own programs was an interview program featuring local guests. Sometimes the guest was an artist, or a gardener or a business person. Usually only a couple of staffers were present for the taping sessions.

On day one, Penny showed me around. In addition to my technical duties, I was also talent wrangler and would help guests get ready by applying a little makeup and warning them about attire. Some colors and stripes make the video image go crazy.

Then Penny sat me down for a rather special orientation about the female guests.

Number one: If the woman wears a skirt, I need to be super careful not to broadcast immodest shots of her legs. If she sits in a way that reveals too much, I'm supposed to alert the cameraman to tighten the shot to just catch her from the waist up.

Penny showed me a few bloopers that got them in trouble. Like the time the mayoral debates were telecast between male and female candidates, and as the female was making her points with all sincerity, the audience was being treated to a peek at her floral printed panties.

Frankly, that may have gotten her more votes.

Number two: Nipple points. Penny herself is a well endowed matronly woman. She has bazooka boobs that must be held up by a great deal of support garments. Her figure is no longer sleek, but those huge boobs still draw attention.

She looked me right in the eye, "Bill, it is part of your job to make a quick study of a woman's chest to see if there are any 'appearance' problems. Frankly, too many women today walk around with their breasts and nipples a little too visible."

As Penny told me this, my eyes dropped from her face down to her tits. I couldn't help myself. I tried to keep looking at her face, but my eyes kept going down to her impressive rack.

She noticed this and just stared back at me, waiting for me to get my eye full. I snapped out of it, "Oh, sorry."

"What am I supposed to do about that sort of problem?" I asked.

As I asked my question, I noticed that Penny's nipple points were starting to show. I guessed that our discussion was taking a toll on this married woman "of a certain age."

She actually blushed and said to me, "Christ, I'm showing, aren't I?" "It's just as well. Now I can show you one way to solve a problem like this." She grabbed a few tissues, folded them and put them inside her blouse and bra.

"There, is that better?"

I stared directly at her tits. "Problem solved," I answered.

"Sorry about that," Penny told me. "We also keep foam cups for this purpose. They're in that drawer over there. Bring them over here."

I did as she told me, "Here, you mean these?"

"Yes, that's them." She reached back into her bra and removed the tissues then replaced them with the pads. "How's that?" she asked me.

The pads made her already big boobs look even bigger. "Just fine," I told her.

Penny went on, "If a guest has this problem, tell her directly. She may be a little embarrassed, but just do it in a businesslike way and she'll take it in that same way."

"OK, that shouldn't be too hard to do," I said, "But tell me, do you put the pads or tissues directly over your nipples? Or do you sort of put them to the side or underneath?"

What an asshole I was being – I knew damn well where they went but I wanted Penny to tell me more.

Penny leaned over so I could see down her blouse pretty far. Her bra was one of those big contraptions that must have had a wide support strap in back. "Watch," she said. Then she reached in and removed the pads, first on one side and then on the other.

As she handled herself she told me exactly how they were positioned. "Did that show you what you wanted to know?" Penny asked me.

"Yes, I think I've got the idea." I replied. It was hard to tell what Penny was thinking about this, but I guessed that she was getting her jollies by feeling her own tits while I was watching her.

Back to rule number one.

"You said to not let women show their panties on camera?" I asked.

"That's right," she said.

"Won't Buddy be aware of what he's filming?" "Why do I need to warn him?"

"Buddy's been here a long time. He's good at what he does, and there's no way I can fire him if he screws up. But I've caught him peeking at the guests when their dresses are too short. I don't trust him."

"OK," I said, "You can count on me. Are there limits I should watch for? For instance, if a woman crosses her legs and her skirt rises up her leg. Should we cut away from that shot, too?"

"Use your judgment," Penny said, "Obviously don't let any of her underthings show."

"Or, what if she uncrosses her legs and in the process she happens to let them fall apart too much?"

Penny kept a businesslike demeanor as she told me, "I try to position the guest so she won't have that problem, but sometimes they wiggle and squirm and forget where the camera is. That's when I need your help."

"I'll do my best," I volunteered. "But as an example, the way you're sitting now with your legs crossed, I can see a bit of your white slip. Would that be a problem on camera?"

"Oh yes, no undergarments should show at all." As she answered me, she tugged at her skirt to cover herself.

I asked, "Women are built so differently. Some have thicker legs and even if they sat with their legs uncrossed nothing would show. Others with slim legs might be a problem."

Penny agreed then asked, "And your point is?"

"For instance, you could sit without crossing your legs, and I don't think your panties would show."

Penny looked sober. I think my reference to her panties made her uncomfortable.

"Penny," I asked, "help me with this for a minute. Just sit there with your legs uncrossed."

She remained still while I got up and walked around the studio, panning with my hands like a camera to check her from different angles. "The way you're sitting looks fine," I told her.

Then I added, "Just to give me a frame of reference, let your legs open a tiny bit and then I'll check again."

She looked a little bothered but she played along with me. Did she think I was really doing this to improve my professional judgment? Had she bought in to my sillyness? Or did she know I was playing with her?

Her legs parted ever so slightly.

I walked around again. "Nothing. All clear." Her legs were not exactly shapely like they probably were when she was a young woman, but they were getting me excited. Her waist was still trimmer than her bust line, so she had a figure.

"Once more?" I encouraged.

Without uttering a word, and still poker faced, Penny let her legs open farther.

Eureka! I could see her little triangle of panty covered pussy. "Penny, what would you say if I told you your panties today are blue?"

She immediately pressed her legs together. "I think you're ready," was all she said.

And so began my career in television.

As luck would have it, three weeks later Penny was out of town and I had to do an interview with a guest from the garden club. The guest, Mrs. Morgan, was a stately woman, tall and mature and slim. Nicely tanned from working outdoors so much. She was a person of good breeding, as they say, and married to one of the town's richest men.

Mrs. Morgan arrived early for the interview. It was then that I told her Penny was away and I would interview her.

She wore a print floral dress, and sure enough her upper body had the dreaded nipple point problem. I took her to our tiny makeup room and applied a little rouge. "Mrs. Morgan, we'll have to do something about your nipples."

She looked down, "My what?"

"Your nipples are showing, making visible points in your dress top. It happens all the time. Here we can solve it quickly."

In one motion I took a cup pad and swooshed my hand down inside Mrs. Morgan's bra and put it in place myself. I took my time to adjust it properly while I took a few liberties with her.

She just sat there gripping the chair arms.

Next, the other side. Another few seconds and I'd felt her other nipple and put the cup in place.

"There, all set," I told her matter-of-factly.

"Oh!" was all she said, and she looked down at herself and then into the mirror.

Had I gotten away with a feel-up of one of the town's leading ladies? Hell, I was just getting started.

I took her into the studio early to get her used to the room. Buddy was out back messing with the satellite dish.

"Mrs. Morgan, we have to be careful about appearances," I said with an authoritative voice, "not just breasts but also a few other delicate things."

"Just so our cameraman won't make a mistake, I'll need you to sit and cross your legs."

She did.

"OK, that's fine. We don't want to show any immodest views, if you know what I'm saying."

She looked attentively at me.

"Now, uncross your legs," I instructed.

She did so as I held out my hands, pretending to pan a camera shot. "Fine, fine, now recross your legs. Good, good, nothing's showing."

Then I took it to the next level.

"Once we're on the air guests sometimes shift their position and unknowingly reveal too much of their legs or even more. To prevent that, help me with another task."

I stepped back again and lowered myself to one knee about four feet in front of her. "Now, uncross your legs."

She did.

"Just let them stay like that, with your knees pressed together."

She did.

"Now, slowly let your legs relax. Let them fall apart a little."

She did.

Nothing was showing although now I could see up her legs pretty far into an inky blackness.

"I think you're fine. We're just about done. But we need to measure just how far you can part your legs before we will have a problem. So just gradually separate your legs for me, very slowly....that's it....a little more....keep going...."

Almost right away I could see her white panties, but I kept telling her to spread her legs wider for me. It was summer, and she wasn't wearing pantyhose, thank god. Soon I could see the lacy designs on her panties and even make out her bulge of hair covering her pussy.

I had taken the liberty of running a camera to record the whole thing.

"OK, Mrs. Morgan, you can relax. I think everything will be fine. Thank you. May I get you coffee or tea?"

I was thrilled and my cock was wiggling like an excited puppy. Here was a 50ish and stately groomed well-kept house wife and community activist who I had just showed me her panties because I asked her to spread her legs.

Not only that, I had fondled her nipples, too. What a great job!

Buddy lumbered back to the studio, and we taped the interview without a hitch. Mrs. Morgan smiled the whole time and presented an aura of delight about the whole experience.

"Why," she said as we parted, "I had no idea what goes into these programs. You have a very professional staff. "Oh, I almost forgot...." With that she reached into her bra and removed the pads, whispering, "Here you are, and thanks for saving me from an embarrassing situation."

"You're welcome," I said, but I was thinking "wel-cum."

Penny returned the next week. And life went on.

Over the course of the next nine months, we had a few other guests who got "the treatment" from me. When Penny was there, I had to be careful not to alarm anyone when I did the panty check.

I even did it once with Penny sitting there watching the whole thing. Every time I got the guest to not just reveal the color of her panties but to spread 'em wider. Each time I had a camera secretly set up to catch the action.

Penny may have wondered about me, but we did good work and none of the guests ever complained. I kept everything just on the safe side of vulgar and suggestive. And with Penny present, guests thought everything was routine.

I even told her that sometimes I handled the nipple problem personally because the guests either didn't understand the problem or because we were pressed for time.

How long could this great gig last?

Not long.

By the time my annual performance review came up, my secret camera recordings had been discovered by Bubba who turned them over to Penny – after making himself a copy.

I didn't know Penny had the recordings when she invited me out to her home for my performance review. I thought it was a nice gesture and indicated that she trusted me and appreciated my work.

Wrong.

I arrived at Penny's luxurious home expecting to find her husband there, too. But no, he wasn't home, but there were a few cars parked in the loop driveway.

Penny opened the door dressed to the nines in rather formal business attire. I had dressed casually even though it was a work day. I thought it would be a casual meeting.

Wrong.

Once inside, she guided me through her spacious living room and out to a large patio around the swimming pool. And there was Mrs. Morgan, Bubba, and a few other of our previous television guests, all of whom I had violated.

Mrs. Morgan, again dressed elegantly, smiled and shook my hand, "Bill, how nice to see you again. I'll never forget our interview at the studio that day."

Gulp. I was beginning to feel just a little bit uncomfortable.

There were the Hatfield twins who we interviewed about their volunteer work at the hospital. And Mrs. O'Dea whose red panties I'd jerked off to about a dozen times.

Maybe Penny had gathered them to give me a special tribute for work well done?

Not exactly.

I was handed a glass of wine and allowed to mingle and chat with the ladies. "What's this all about?" I wondered. Penny and Bubba were nowhere to be seen.

After about twenty minutes, Penny came out from the house and said, "OK, let's come inside and get things started."

Everyone walked inside and into the living room where they took seats on the sofas and chairs. A maid circulated and refilled wine glasses.

Penny raised her voice, "Everyone, let's raise a toast to Bill for a memorable year." Glasses clinked, and Penny continued, "Bill, we have a special annual review for you. It's just a little something we prepared just for you."

The lights dimmed and a DVD started to roll. There I was on camera interviewing Mrs. Morgan, looking professional and like I knew what I was doing. I don't know if the ladies noticed, but I could see my hefty dong stretched way down my pants leg that day.

Good ole cameraman Buddy got a shot that revealed the dance in my pants. Then I was surprised when the camera shot focused tightly on my trouser snake.

The lady guests giggled.

Next was an interview with another of the guests. And again my cock muscle was on parade. More giggling. Obviously, someone had edited the tapes to zoom in on my cock movement.

I was starting to sweat.

Even as I sat there getting more and more nervous, my dick was responding like a solider snapping to attention. Cum leaked from my pee hole.

I knew I was had when the DVD images revealed my secret tapings. Mrs. Morgan's lacy panties, Mrs. Odea's red thigh highs. Assorted long legs voluntarily parting as my voiceover coaxed each one, "That's fine, just a bit more, thank you, can you part them a little more?"

By now the room was rocking with laughter. But I wasn't laughing. I was sweating bullets and leaking cum like a busted faucet.

The DVD ended and the lights went back up. "Mr. Bill," Penny addressed me, "Did you think nobody noticed what you've been doing?"

"After that first day when it was just you and me, I saw what you were up to. In fact, I talked with some of my friends and told them about you. As you can see by the ladies here in this room, we enjoyed it as much as you did."

"Unfortunately, I'm going to have to fire you because one of the husbands has complained. So sad."

"I can give you a good recommendation for another job in another town, but only if you can take it as well as dish it out."

Shit, she had me by the balls. For some reason, I got very stimulated and my cock was bounding around mindlessly in their boxers.

Penny picked up a hand held microphone and said, "So, Mr. Bill, we're so glad you could come by the studio today to let us interview you."

What? What was she doing?

Just then, Buddy appeared with one of the cameras from the studio. Had they arranged to tape a real show? Was I a guest? Or what?

Penny took me by the arm and raised me up from my chair. "Bill, you've been here for a year, now. Why don't you tell the audience where you're from?"

I looked at her wide-eyed. Was she serious?

"Oh, Billy, don't be shy. What can you tell us about your personal interests? For instance, do you like to make ladies show you their panties? Do you like to touch their nipples?"

I could tell that Buddy was focusing his camera on my crotch area. And that's were all the ladies heads were focused, too.

"Well, Bill, if you won't talk, maybe you need a break. In fact, our cameraman is signaling that there's a problem. What's that Buddy? You say Bill's dick getting hard?"

Penny's grip on my arm tightened, as if to prevent me from leaping out of the room.

"Cut!" she yelled. "Bill, we need to do a little prep session for you, sort of like you did to our lady guests here today."

Giggles erupted and glasses clinked again as they toasted what they were about to make me do.

Penny pushed a finger against each of my nipples, "Humm, these are OK. But ladies, where is Bill's problem?"

I distinctly heard Mrs. Morgan's voice say, "I think his dick is too hard."

"You mean this?" said Penny as she reached around and grabbed my elongated pants pole.

I flinched and instinctively drew away from her grasp.

"Oh, Bill, that won't do. If you won't stand still, how can we fix your problem?"

With that she nodded to Bubba, a large powerful man also of a certain age. Bubba left his camera and came up behind me and forced my arms behind my back. I couldn't move. Bubba seemed to know exactly what to do as if this was all rehearsed.

Penny took out my very own make up kit and dabbed rouge on my cheeks, "There, now you'll look better on camera."

But we have to do something about that – pointing to my pulsing and shaking pants leg with wet drips seeping through the fabric.

She unbuckled my belt, released the waist snap on my trousers, unzipped me, and let my pants fall to the floor.

Standing there in just my boxers, the ladies were looking at me and getting an eye full because my dick head was already dangling below the boxers, a big purple bulb of cockhead with shiny threads of cum stretching to the floor.

Then she took a pair of scissors and let Mrs. Morgan cut off my boxers entirely, leaving me exposed, with big Bubba forcing me to stand in front of the wives and ladies. All eleven inches was in view, with my heavy balls underneath wagging from side to side.

Bubba angled me from side to side so everyone could see my dick.

"There's just one solution to this problem," Penny said, "And it's so simple and delightful."

The ladies watched as Penny squirted jerk juice on my shaft. Then she slowly spread it all over my cock and oiled my balls. "Bill, all we have to do is milk you, and then you'll fit back into your pants and the viewers won't know a thing."

Bubba forced me up in front of the women that I had violated, and each of then had their way with my cock, pumping it or pushing it this way and that way. Mrs. O'Dea gripped my balls and pretended to spank them as she said, "Naughty boy! Naught, naughty, boy for looking up my dress!"