Working It All Out

The Healthiest Woman on TV

[no characters are under the age of 18; no events described occurred in this or any other way to the knowledge of the author, who has no intention to infer that they did. All rights reserved by Clinton09]

What was I doing in New York? A nice guy from Chicago? I don't even like the Mets, let alone tolerate the Yankees. But, I was called by my network, the largest women's media group outside of Oprah's Harpo Enterprises. Then they dropped the hammer: I had to fly to an on location shoot and fire the talent. But it wasn't just any talent, it was my favorite for TV fitness and eye candy: Denise Austin.

The media group did not like the trends on her show and thought that it had "run its course". I objected bravely, for at least 30 seconds, before I slinked downstairs, looking for a yellow cab to take me to JFK.

The flight to Hawaii was incredibly boring and uneventful; I guess you can't complain. The last "eventful" flight over Hawaii was that one where the 737 lost its cabin roof and passengers were sucked out. OK, Ok, uneventful is fine. What, no thanks miss, nothing more for me, I'm already full from the half cup of soda and bag of Beer Nuts. Thanks anyway.

Arriving in Honolulu, I put my bags up at my digs at the Hilton and headed out to the on location shoot on one of the distant "black lava" beaches.

Arriving in 30 minutes, I saw a small shooting crew with the usual reflectors and lights(always a surprise for non-media types to see..."aren't they outside already?"); in the center of this mini-maelstrom was the ebullient Ms. Austin. She was wearing a hyper-conservative workout outfit, with stiff blue blouse with full sleeves, and shorts that went down to her knees made out of, what, Kevlar? How things had changed.

I hacked my way thru the shooting crew and introduced myself to Denise, who was, as usual, sweating profusely. A woman would step forward every few seconds and wipe her dry. I told her I had to speak with her at the next break. Huffing and puffing from her aerobics bit, she said she just had the 3 minute conclusion to shoot, which would take perhaps 45 minutes to get right; could I wait for her in the trailer. I said sure.

Her trailer was a wonderland for Denise Austin fans. Picture after picture of her husband and family; one whole wall had all of her dozens of workout tapes, now on DVD. There also were informal VHS tapes of all her shows.

I wanted to confirm what I thought, so I put in an early tape. Sure enough, she wore these bomb-proof leotards, head to toe, that were great if there was no such thing as male viewers. Made out of spun wool or something, they were not form fitting. Totally unsexy. Then the change.

She moved to a sports network which had mostly male viewers. The network already had morning workout shows that were clearly just "eye candy", bikini-clad babes who barely raised a sweat. They added Denise to that mix.

The change was spectacular. Instead of the fireproof Nomex leotards, she now wore white leotards with leg cutouts that were thin and adhered to every square inch of her fabulous body. She did a lot of mat work, too, which was either called "yoga" or "pilates", but it was damn hot.

She'd stretch out, her tanned silky legs on display(finally) for the whole world to enjoy. Pointing her pert little sexy feet, she'd raise a shapely leg, then the other. The camera would close in on her as she kept up a constant repartee' of encouragement. Some sicko's in the tv audience, not myself of course, would record this and play it back. In slow motion, it looked often as if she was blowing you a kiss or giving other "encouragement". Of course, it was only an illusion as that WAS slow-motion.

Now, after those years of being on the sports network, her contract was then moved by her media company to the women's network. Slowly but surely, out went the incredibly sexy leotards and back came the outfits your grandmother used to wear down to Brighton Beach. What a waste. All this time, the same fit, vivacious, and deceptively hot, Denise Austin was under all of these clothes.

If all of her male viewers had deserted her, now that she dressed like Oprah and was on the women's channel, she had at least one last adherent: me.

So, here I was, her last loyal male viewer, sent on a mission to terminate...with extreme prejudice.

Since her set and shoot crew did not resemble "Apocalypse Now"'s, I wasn't afraid of

Brando or Martin Sheen attacking me by surprise.

Without warning, I heard a thump on the aluminum steps to the trailer and in came Denise, wiping her brow of beads of sweat. In person, she was actually lovelier but short...I mean tiny. She was perhaps a foot shorter than my six foot two inch frame. She asked what I was here for, and I stuttered about her long and illustrious career. She finally cut in, without the sweetness and light, and said, "are you here from the network to sever our relationship?" I looked down to the rickety floor of the trailer and nodded.

She sat down, very unladylike, very un-Denise, with a sigh of resignation. She said, "does that mean I'm too old? I'm over the hill??" I said, "no, no, no! The network just wants to go in new directions, and your show's demographics and TOM(top of mind) scores don't look good. But too old? Washed up? No way" (I shouldn't have put in the washed up comment; she hadn't mentioned that)

Denise was wobbly as she stood, so I helped steady her. She was wearing the conservative navy blue chemise with thick leotard leggings that the women's network had mandated. Uggh.

She looked at the picture of her perfect family, then looked at her hands, which were in fact the oldest part of her...fitness women have to lift weights and the repetitions wear out their hands quicker than anything, with no way to disguise that. She then looked at me. I was maybe 15 years her junior and in great shape, for a normal guy.

She approached me and asked for my brief case. I handed it to her and she threw it with tremendous force to the far end of the trailer. She then grabbed my expensive oxford, button down, French cuff, all cotton shirt and ripped it off with a reserve of strength that California's governor would be envious of. I actually felt exposed and vulnerable!

She undid my belt and with one motion took down the wool slacks(with fashionable cuffs) and sling underwear. My cock, which had been quietly growing since I reviewed her old tapes, reached its full nine and three quarters inch glory, a tribute to Ms. Austin.

Her weathered, tanned, hands went around my manly cock and stroked it. I could do nothing but close my eyes, completely under her sway. After a few seconds, I realized that she was staring at me, wondering what kind of a dunce I was!! Shit...I got the message and started taking off her duds.

Insofar as she had to workout without falling out of her things, her clothes were like welded on. It was a real chore, but I got her naked...Denise Austin...finally!

How many thousands of male viewers had expended all of their psychic energy on imagining this, but here I was, with the most private of sex shows. Thank you women's network!!

Denise in the altogether?

Well, up close, her face without full pancake makeup was a bit more lined than you think, what from being in the sun. She was still beautiful, though, and her figure! Her breasts were nicer than you could see during the "bad" years(at the start and end of her career). I'm not saying they were Pamela Anderson level, just that they were there and they were nice.

Her figure was of course fantastic; close up, you could see that she was solid muscle, from her abs down. Her tummy flat and hard, her thighs creamy smooth(bikini wax required for all shows...ouch!), her legs a sculptor's delight.

I fell to my knees and paid homage; her hair "down there" was trimmed in the shape of a heart..that was 1,000 times hotter than the usual hairy jumble or the shaved look so popular today. I kissed it lightly, then kissed and caressed her thighs, legs, down to her perfect little feet. Crossing to the other delicate foot, I went back up the rock hard but feminine legs and thighs and planted a tongue squarely in her moist labia.

She moaned in pleasure. Cripes, I wondered...could I get Denise Austin, the sexiest woman on tv, could I get her off?

Plunging my tongue inside her over-40 cunt, I went thru the entire alphabet before she shuddered, shuddered, and moaned. I'd done it! Wow! Denise had an orgasm by little old me!

She grabbed me by the ears and powerfully brought me to my feet. She then grabbed my almost(but not quite) ten inch cock and led me to the surprisingly nice double bed in the trailer.

To my astonishment, she gently picked up my six two frame and tossed me like a sex toy to the middle of the bed, my cock standing like the Washington Monument in tribute to her "charms".

Denise climbed on board and lowered herself onto my enormous hard-on.

She looked to the trailer's tin roof with eyes closed, moaning as it slid in. To my surprise, her cunt was tight(muscular? What a shock?) but enveloped me easily. She might have been "over the hill" to some, but she was fit, strong, healthy, and fantastic! Talk about a bedroom athlete!

She started going up and down like a pogo stick and, guys, I'm ashamed to admit this...she was fucking the shit out of me...and I couldn't take it. But what man in the history of the world has ever told his energetic, athletic, love interest to "cool it". You're right...no one.

As I concealed the "ouch" and "ow, shit, stop that!" urges, I just laid there and took the most delicious, painful, and awe-inspiring intercourse of my life. My cock was having a "field day", skewering her mature but talented cunt, scraping the walls of her womanly depths, bouncing against what must have been her cervix, banging against her uterus, and other points of interest.

As this was friggin' Denise Austin, I wasn't going to ask "should I pull out" or wimpy crap like that! She was in control here. When she got out of breath herself...after 45 minutes of sheer torturous pleasure...she looked down at me, sweat dripping, and said, "on four"...she moaned out, "1, 2,3,4!!" and howled in ecstasy. I got the idea and grabbed her stainless steel hard behind pulling it as tight to me as I could, arched my now abused back up, and let loose. Bareback!

The wide slit in my big cock was like one of those big permanent sprinkler heads, splashing, splashing, and splashing, in this case my sperm laden semen. After maybe a dozen splashes, every square inch of her womanly depth was coated, dripping, awash in my potent seed. I did not know, or care, about her home life, kids, family, tv career, or anything. I thought with my cock, and all it wanted to do was its purpose in life: to get her pregnant.

The idea of knocking up Denise Austin was so far "out of the box" that I never thought about it; never dreamed I would have a chance for a chaste kiss let alone a coital embrace!

She fell over huffing and puffing, telling me I did well and that I wasn't so bad for a non-gym type.

"Is your husband a gym brat", I asked? She laughed, saying, "Heavens no, he's just a regular guy like you; well not exactly like you". With that, she rose up and kissed the head of my once again hardening cock. I was stunned; Denise told me I was better than her husband! And it got me up again.

Well, Frederick the Great said, "Audacity, always audacity!" Good advice.

I finally took command, mounting the most beautiful woman on tv. Pushing her firm thighs apart, I pushed her legs onto my shoulders; I was taking command, and I wanted full access to her deepest reaches. My cock was now at full hardness and it went in halfway and then out; I did this time after time until Denise got a bead of sweat on her lovely forehead.

That was the signal to go for it, and I did! Throwing gentleness and gentility to the winds, I fucked her for all I was worth. When ELSE would I have a chance to fuck, and maybe(just maybe) knock up Denise Austin!?!? You're right...never.

So, this was no 45 minute sex marathon like the first time; no, it was all for me, and my cock swelled to its full size, the oversized slit pointed right at her uterus, right before we both stopped, motionless.

I dropped down and kissed her tender lips. Rising back up, I was astounded to see a tear in her eye. I fell back to kissing her, whispered(for some reason) that I "loved her", and jetted another ten lengthy shots of life-giving sperm, deep deep DEEP inside her.

I did not know if she was unprotected(she was), or fertile(what were the odds..she was at her peak), or receptive(she held me like a glove, draining me of every vibrating sperm, so yes to that too).

We kissed, and incongruous or not, I really did feel love for her. If her husband dumped her because of this, she'd have my number, and I hers.

Two months later I got a call in Chicago. The voice was strangely familiar...geez, it was Denise!! She told me that I had knocked her up! I told her I had another call, to wait...I put the speaker phone on mute and shouted as loud as anyone in history..."oh man!! Yes!!"...recovering my decorum, I got back on, saying that whatever happened, I would help and support her.

I was afraid she'd just opt for the big "A" like so many women these days, but no. She said she was going to give birth, as it was her last chance. I asked sheepishly if she told her husband about us. To my amazement she did. I leaned forward, awaiting the denouement of that contretemps...what then happened???

She said she told the truth, her husband looked down, told her he didn't approve of the big "A", as were her views, and that he'd just accept the baby as a "fait accompli".

My heart fell..he wasn't dumping her! Damn! But, I was happy for her. She said that she wouldn't worry about child support, as her residuals were more than I made in my best year.

We both laughed.

I told her that, for that one magic moment, I held the most beautiful woman in the world in my arms; that I really DID love her at that moment. And that I would be there, anonymously, when she gave birth. To my amazement, her husband came on and said that I did not have to hide in the shadows; he accepted all of it.

You would be surprised...amazed. We were not cuckolders; we had no further kinky relations, but they accepted me as family friend and her husband was as warm to my baby...and me...as he was to his own kith and kin. They were wonderful people and I was so happy to have entered their lives.