Getting the Job: Carol Kirkwood Ch. 02

Getting the Job: Carol Kirkwood Part 2: Wimbledon

By Imorol

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story for adult entertainment purposes.

Now, to the story...

It was summer which meant for the next two weeks Carol Kirkwood would be presenting the weather from Wimbledon. It was one of her favourite locations to broadcast from. It was a very peaceful place in the mornings (except when the bins were being cleared). And Carol had experienced some good times at the All England Club, had met and satisfied a number of famous tennis players.

"Bad news Carol," said her producer Malcolm Davies, "Sally won't be making it to site." Then with a smile, "It's just us two today."

"Oh, okay. Shame, it's always fun when Sally's around. Still, I'm sure you'll find something entertaining to do," said Carol. Sally Nugent wasn't part of their group (as far as she knew), but the Scot genuinely liked working with her. But as it was just her and the producer, Carol knew she would be required to satisfy his sexual needs today. Silver linings, she thought. Although the ways she had to satisfy certain people pushed her personal boundaries, it was usually enjoyable.

Ms Kirkwood wore many different dresses at Wimbledon, but today she was wearing what she jokingly called her 'Wimbledon Dress' purely because it was purple and matched the tennis club's colours. Just like a lot of her wardrobe, the dress enhanced her very large chest. The Y-pattern of the neckline crossed between her huge boobs, drawing the viewer's eyes to her globes. Below, the stretch cotton clung to her midriff, again highlighting the two firm breasts above. As the presenter's hips flared out, the purple material clung to them, before tapering down her legs to end just below her knees. Sandals completed her outfit.

6:00 am

"...it's certainly going to be a good day today."

"We're clear. Ok, Carol, the director in the control room wants some props. I'm going to pop into the gift shop and get a couple of things."

"Oh, ok," Carol said. She had expected the producer to start molesting her, but they did have a job to do after all.

"Here, drink this," Mal said, handing her a chilled bottle of water with a grin.

Ah, so he does have something planned, she thought. "Thanks, Mal," she said aloud.

Ten minutes later Malcolm returned, carrying a rolled up towel, a pair of tennis rackets and a tube of tennis balls. He gave Carol an apologetic look.

"Yeah, the director isn't the most creative thinker. He wants you to bounce a couple of balls and hit one out of the shot."

A few minutes later: "You ready?" At a nod from the sexy blonde Mal started counting down, "3...2...1," and pointed at her.

"Good morning! It's a beautiful sunny morning here in Wimbledon on Henman Hill..."

6:17 am

"...I'll have more, later in the program."

"And we're out. Jesus, that director has no clue. Sorry about that, Carol."

"Harmless fun if nothing new," the Scot laughed warmly.

"Well, we've got some time now," he said, looking around and seeing no one paying them any attention. Everyone's focus was on readying the grounds for the day. "Over there, behind the carp pond," he said, pointing towards a private area the pair was well acquainted with.

Atop Henman Hill was a picket fenced flowerbed, the flowers depicting the current year. Above this was a carp pond, a common location for BBC broadcasts. Beyond was a brick wall giving access to a secluded private garden enclosed by bushes. When the BBC was on site during Wimbledon Week, they were given exclusive access to the area, for use if and when they wanted.

Walking behind, Mal couldn't keep his eyes off Carol Kirkwood's arse. Wide hips swaying, big bum rolling, panty line showing, it was a wonderful sight. She's got me hard already, he thought, smiling.

"Are you looking at my bum, Mal?" she asked, her sexy accent teasing.

"I definitely am," he responded. Following her through a brickwork archway, he said, "I can see your panty line, Carol. Tell me, are you wearing dirty knickers for me?"

"Maybe. I'm sure you'll find out very soon," she said, smiling cheekily over her shoulder

Within the garden, Malcolm guided the sexy busty blonde behind a bush; if anyone wandered by they wouldn't be spotted. Stepping close to Carol, Mal placed his hands on the older woman's sexy wide hips. Pressing forwards, he began grinding his hard crotch against her arse. Inhaling the scent of her skin and perfume, he kissed her neck and licked her ear.

Carol moaned. She liked it hard but also appreciated tenderness. But she had no doubt Mal had other things he wanted to do with her. Certainly, she could feel the erection poking against her bum and she began grinding back on him. When he moaned, she smiled.

Feeling the sultry blonde's response, Malcolm ran his hands up her body until he was cupping her magnificent tits. God, they feel so heavy and firm, he thought, squeezing them. His hands groped Ms Kirkwood, running over the curve and swell of her breasts, feeling her large nipples hardening through her clothes. Looking over her shoulder and down the top of her dress, he watched as his movements caused the mouth-watering cleavage to jiggle, to lift, to separate and repeat.

"Hmm, I love your hands on me, Mal," the Scot said, pushing her arse against the man's crotch and her tits into his hands. With sensitive nipples and boobs, Carol loved having them played with. Having her producer just feeling her up was getting her hot and excited. Already she could feel her pussy was wet and swelling, getting ready for more. Turning her face to him, her mouth opened and was quickly invaded by his tongue. Lips closing, Carol started sucking the muscle as it explored her mouth. Hand moving, she reached behind herself and groped the man in turn, squeezing the hard lump pressing against her. She heard and felt the producer moaning into her mouth as they continued to kiss.

For a few minutes they groped each other and kissed. Reaching down her top with one hand, Malcolm slid his fingers into a black bra cup and squeezed and felt the hot milky skin. Pushing further down, fingers trapped between straining bra and warm yielding tit, he found her nipple. Using his fingers like scissors, he began to lightly work the nubbin, stimulating it, hearing the weather forecaster breathing heavy, moaning. He then changed tit, using the other hand to play with the nipple.

Withdrawing from the bra, Malcolm gave Carol's tits one more squeeze then stepped back.

"Lift your dress, Carol. I want to see your knickers," he said, his own breathing heavy.

Teasingly, Ms Kirkwood dropped her hands to her thighs, took hold of her purple dress and slowly hiked it up. Garment rising, her legs were revealed. Long and round, the white skin was revealed inch by inch. Bunched up under her round bum, the presenter pulled her dress up and over her sexy buttocks.

Dropping to his knees behind the beautiful weather presenter, Malcolm grabbed her hips again and just stared at her knickers. The Scot was wearing a pair of black control briefs. I love seeing Carol in granny panties, he thought, gazing at the soft cotton following the curves of her bum and delving into her crack. Eyes tracing the garments stitching, he drank in the sight of Carol's underwear. Following the leg band from her hip, down over the wonderful globe of her cheek, progressing over to the stitching along the back of her gusset...

Easily giving into temptation, the producer pressed his face against her arse, pushing his nose into her crevice. With a moan he inhaled, sniffing Carol Kirkwood's bum in the Wimbledon garden. Hands clasped her through the underwear, squeezing as he continued to sniff.

"Oh, it's so hot feeling someone smelling me," the weather presenter said, hands now on her boobs, pressing against herself, teasing her nipples through her clothes. Moving her hands to her knees, she bent over at the waist, opening her arse crack a bit, and pushed her bum against the man. Tilting her pelvis, she could imagine what Mal was seeing. And then she felt him move and she moaned.

Malcolm let out a moan of his own, feeling Carol bending over, the cotton knickers moving against his face. Bum crevice opening, the man pushed his nose deeper, aided by Carol pushing back against him. Smells so good, so hot and sexy, he thought, inhaling deeper of the still hidden arsehole. But another odour entered his nostrils, forcing him to chase it. Bringing his face down, he pushed hard into Carol's tilted crotch and sniffed at her covered cunt. Oh, man! Her pussy stinks. Fishy. Oh, it's so hot! he thought, inhaling deeply, over and over.

"Open your legs," he said, panting with excitement. Once she'd complied, he pressed his face square against the smelly gusset, breathing in the scent of her dirty knickers and wet cunt. Smells so strong, he thought, nuzzling hard against the wet cotton with his nose. "Hmm, how long have you worn these, Carol?" voice muffled in her crotch.

"Today makes it five days since I started wearing these knickers." She heard him moan. "Nasty isn't it?" she laughed.

"You smell amazing, Carol. It's so strong," he said, nuzzling harder, inhaling deeper.

"You like my fishy minge, Mal?" she giggled. "Want to know why my knickers are so strong? I've been playing with myself in them every day. Wait until you see my gusset!"

Immediately giving into temptation again, the man grabbed the knickers and yanked them down to her knees. Pulling the gusset out, he saw what was originally a grey cotton panel was streaked with yellow and white stains. Parts of the gusset were wet and parts were crusty. And Carol's stains were spread further than the cotton patch. It was clear where the weather presenter had been masturbating, stains showing the path her fingers had forged when touching herself.

Playing with her tits again, Carol could hear her producer sniffing her dirty knickers, moaning as he took in her strong scent. That's so hot. So nasty. I love it when someone gets off smelling my knickers, she thought, fingers pressing against her nipples.

"Do you like sniffing my crusty knickers, Mal? Hasn't my dripping minge made such a mess of them. It's been so itchy that I had to play with myself so much. Can you see where I've been touching myself, Mal?"

"God yes, Carol! Your knickers smell so good. You smell so good!" he said between inhales.

"Mal? Suck my pussy? Make me cum?"

With a loud moan of desire, Malcolm let go of the dirty panties, looked up and pressed his face hard into Carol Kirkwood's sopping wet hairy cunt. Mouth, nose and cheeks quickly covered in her quim juice, he stiffened his tongue and drove it into the hot fishy-tasting hole. Wiggling around inside her, he licked her walls, soaking in her flavour. Closing his lips with her big labia, he Frenched her pussy, snogged her cunt.

"Oh, that feels so good. So good," she moaned, pressing her arse and pussy back at him. "Suck me Mal. Eat me!" Her hands continued to grope her own boobs, fingers desperately trying to pinch her nipples through her clothes.

Pulling his tongue out, the producer lapped up and down her slit before latching his lips to her clit and sucking. As Carol moaned, a squirt of girl cum hit him in the face. Oh, yes, he thought as he opened his lips and started lashing the clit with his tongue.

"Oh, it feels so good. But, Mal? What about my bum hole? Don't you want to lick me there?" she teased.

Grabbing a buttock in each hand, Malcolm spread Ms Kirkwood's big arse. Pressing his face between the naked cheeks, he inhaled her arsehole. Nostrils filled with the dark earthy scent, he kissed Carol on her tight little rosebud. Feeling her shudder with pleasure, he pressed his tongue against the ring of muscle. With the tipoff his tongue he traced the creases of her sphincter, coating it with saliva. Coaxing the muscle to relax, he pushed inside, tasting her sweet dark rectum.

"Oh Mal, yes," Carol moaned in her sexy Scottish accent. "Oh, I love that!"

Spurred on by her words, he started fucking her arsehole with his tongue. Keeping it stiff, he thrust it in and out of her anus then he gave it a broad swipe before returning his oral muscle to sodomising Carol.

"I need to cum. Make me cum!"

Driving his tongue as deep into her tasty rectum as he could, Mal rimmed the Scot before withdrawing. Her moan turned into a long drawn out groan when she felt his lips latching onto her clit and sucking hard. His tongue lashed vigorously over the nubbin and she exploded into orgasm. Her twat started convulsing, squirting her girl cum over her producer's face. Biting her lip so she wouldn't scream out, Carol Kirkwood's body shuddered on Malcolm's face, covering him in her cunt cream.

Keeping his tongue flicking against the throbbing clit, Mal opened his mouth and caught the squirting cum. There was so much he had to swallow her juices down. Fucking delicious, he thought swiping her slit up and down with his tongue, capturing more of her taste. She might smell a bit fishy, but she tastes so sweet. He kept licking, cleaning Carol's crotch.

"Mm, Mal, that felt so good. Thank you," she said, straightening up.

Taking hold of the knickers still around her knees, the man pulled them the rest of the way down saying, "You won't be needing these, Carol." Despite having just swallowed the Scot's girl cum he buried his face in her gusset again, inhaling deeply before letting out a loud happy sigh. He placed the dirty underwear in his pocket.

Looking at his watch, "We need to get set for the next broadcast."

Back on Henman Hill Malcolm had the weather presenter stand in front of the carp pond and behind the raised flowerbed. She drank another bottle of water as the producer framed the shot. Carol would be shown from mid-thigh to her head whilst leaving enough space for the studio to superimpose graphics. He then picked up a remote control for the camera and his radio headset.

Just before they went on air, Mal got behind her and lay down, hidden by the flower bed's border from any passers-by and out of shot. Positioning his head between Carol's feet, which she spread to make room for him, he began counting down to going live.

6:43 am

Horny sod, wants to look up my dress, she thought with a smile. "Hello, and welcome back to Wimbledon. The sun is shining, the skies are blue..."

As she talked into the camera, Carol sensed some movement below her. Then she felt a hand on her knee before it slid up along her inner thigh. Always professional, she didn't allow it to register on her face and continued presenting the weather.

A brief pause of the hand then two fingers suddenly drove straight into her snatch. Carol moved, leaning into the camera to cover her surprise at the sudden and unexpected penetration. The fingers stroked her pussy walls, eliciting waves of pleasure from her still hot cunt. As soon as Carol moved back, standing directly above her producer again, Mal started thrusting his two digits in and out of her.

"Temperatures will be rising..." she said aloud. In her mind she was thinking I'm being finger-fucked live on TV. In pubic no less!

As the fingers continued to molest her, pushing in and out, stroking her walls, scissoring around her vulva, she heard a zipper below and behind her. Guessing her producer was taking his dick out to wank himself, she continued the broadcast.

"And over the south west..." her voice hitched as a third finger entered her, stretching her wonderfully. "Oops, excuse me," she said into the camera before continuing. And the fingers continued, pushing in and out of her soaking cunt, but now adding a waving motion, stimulating her further and further.

The broadcast was only a few minutes long but to Carol it felt like hours were passing as she tried desperately not to orgasm live on air. She wanted to push back on the fingers, take more, wanted her clit tweaked and rubbed. But eventually the segment came to a close.

"...that's right. It's going to be a lovely day for tennis," she said, smiling warmly down the camera.

"Camera's off and you're clear. Get down here and suck my cock," she heard from below her.

Glancing around to check no one was looking in their direction, Carol Kirkwood turned around and lay down atop her producer. Without pulling the man's foreskin back, she took his cock straight into her mouth. Tease me, I'm going to tease you, she thought, beginning to suck. Feeling hands working, she helped Mal raise her dress, exposing her legs, naked arse and soaking twat. Sucking hard, she tasted pre-cum. Realising she was sucking the man's pre-cum out from under his foreskin, she pulled it back and started to suckle on the hard purple knob to really get the flavour.

Holding the Scot by her sexy wide hips, Malcolm buried his face back between her legs and started sucking her cunt for all he was worth. In heaven, his face was warmed by the heat radiating from the sexy blonde's thighs around his head and the sweltering crotch. His nostrils were filled by the musky scent he was now very familiar with and his tongue and lips were bathed in the copious cream bubbling from Carol Kirkwood as he sucked her minge. And his knob was in paradise, the hot wet sucking mouth concentrated on it, a voracious tongue swirling all over it, pushing into his piss hole, pre-cum being sucked out of the shaft.

Within minutes the pair were cumming together. Ms Kirkwood's pussy, already hot and wet, gushed again. Thick warm cunt cream ran out of her, covering her boss' face, sucked into his hungry mouth. Her own mouth was quickly filled by thick blasts of hot salty spunk. Without thinking, Carol drove forward, taking the erupting dick down into her throat and started swallowing the semen directly down into her stomach. Yummy, my favourite breakfast, she thought.

"Jesus, Carol, that felt great," the producer said a couple of minutes later. Trying to catch his breath, he let his hands roam over her big bum, gently feeling her cheeks. "I just couldn't last. I got so turned on from earlier."

"Mm, my pleasure. Christ, Mal, you nearly made me cum live on camera," she laughed then licked his cock head clean, swiping at the last bead of pearly white spunk.

Discreetly recovering themselves, they quickly prepared for the broadcast at the top of the hour.

7:00 am

"...it's going to be a glorious day."

"Right, we're off the air," the producer said. Stepping around the camera, he joined the smiling Scot, sitting on the red sofa that had been brought out for the broadcast. "I want to see your pussy again."

"You mean you want to look at my smelly snatch some more," Ms Kirkwood laughed before rising her bum just off the cushions and lifting her dress to her waist. One foot remained on the grass whilst she placed her other leg on the sofa, spreading her thighs wide open and displaying her still swollen, wet twat. She knew that the curved sofa would shield her exposure to people walking past at the bottom of the hill.

Pulling Carol's dirty black knickers from his pocket, Malcolm began sniffing the stained gusset, his eyes staring between the spread legs of his Scottish toy. Moaning, he watched as the sexy blonde reached down, fingers parting her lips, spreading herself open.

"Mm, look how wet I am, Mal. My twat is throbbing so much. Can you see it? Isn't that a beautiful shade of pink inside me?" Pushing a finger inside she said, "Oh, I'm so hot and wet inside, Mal. Watch me play with myself."

Out in the open atop Henman Hill at the Wimbledon All England Tennis Club, Carol Kirkwood started masturbating in front of her producer. Fingers sliding in and out of her wet vagina, stroking her clit, she watched the man smelling her dirty stinky knickers. So nasty, she thought with a smile, pinched her clit and moaned. Arousal building, her breathing was getting heavier, her chest heaving. Wanting to touch her tits, she knew she couldn't or would risk being seen. But another thought entered her mind.