Getting the Job: Carol Kirkwood Ch. 02

Reaching out her hand, fingers wet with pussy juice, she asked, "May I?" before accepting the dirty knickers back. Locking eyes with the man, she raised the gusset to her face and inhaled deeply. "Phew, they really do smell like the seaside don't they?" the hot blonde said with a smirk. Dropping her hand back to her crotch, Carol started masturbating her sodden cunt with the knickers. Quickly, the cotton patch was soaking with her cream.

Having pulled his dick out again, Malcolm stroked it as he watched Britain's favourite weather forecaster masturbating with her own used underwear, adding more scent and juice to the already dirty knickers. Eyes locked between her legs, he watched as long fingers rubbed the cotton against her twat, ears listening to her panting and moaning as she brought herself closer to another orgasm.

"Mal? I'm going to cum," she said, breathing heavy. Fingers working faster, Ms Kirkwood was concentrating on her clit now, rubbing hard, and chasing her release.

"Do it, Carol. I want you to cum in your dirty knickers. Make them really stink of your cunt!"

Leaning back against the rear of the sofa, Carol spread her legs as wide as she could and aggressively rubbed her pussy. Feeling her climax about to break she held the panty gusset over her open snatch and attacked her clit with the other. Seconds later she bucked and moaned as she came, her cunt spasming fresh cream into the panties.

Fighting his own orgasm, Mal watched the sexy mature blonde bucking against her hand. He could actually see the knickers getting wetter, and could certainly smell Carol's smelly snatch, even out here in the open. With a moan of frustration, the producer let go of his dick. He needed to cum again, but wanted to save it, at least for a few minutes. Instead he just watched as Carol squirmed through the end of her cum.

Tucking his dick away with some difficulty, he said, "Carol, you better get set. We're due to go live."

"Mal?" she said. When the producer turned to see what she wanted, Ms Kirkwood smirked at him then slowly pushed her knickers into her cunt. "What do you think? That should get them nice is smelly."

With a huge effort of willpower, the producer stepped behind the camera. He watched as the Scot pushed the rest of her underwear inside herself before pulling her dress back down.

7:15 am

"...yes, it's always such fun at Wimbledon..."

Throughout the entire broadcast, Malcolm couldn't get the image of Carol stuffing her panties up her twat out of his mind. Just knowing they're in there, right now, soaking in her cunt butter, he thought. Those nasty smelly, fishy knickers getting juiced on...

His eyes kept straying to Carol's knees, imagining his hands parting them, spreading her legs and seeing the black cotton peeking out from between her hot swollen pussy lips. It was a struggle to keep the camera aimed properly and not dropping to follow where his eyes blazed.

"...that's right, Lou. And I've got the towel to prove it," Carol laughed, holding out an official Wimbledon souvenir towel.

"Clear," the producer said, "Quick, let's get back to the garden," he said, voice strained as he grabbed the towel. As they briskly headed for the secluded spot, he couldn't keep his eyes off Carol's arse, watching her cheeks moving, hips swaying and all the while thinking she wasn't wearing knickers as they were stuffed up her twat.

As soon as they were concealed behind the bushes, the towel was laid on the ground. Facing Carol, eyes jumping between her heaving chest and her hidden crotch, he removed his trousers and shorts. Naked from the waist down, he stepped forwards and bent down. Grabbing the hem of her dress, Mal paused then sniffed her through her purple dress. Delicious, he thought, inhaling her scent.

"Are you smelling my fishy minge again, Mal?" Carol teased, smiling. She'd thought she had overdone it by wearing the knickers for so long and getting them so strong, and was relieved that Mal was enjoying her so much. It also turned her on, knowing she was getting the man so hot for her.

"Gonna do more than sniff it," the producer said, yanking her dress back up to her waist. Fingers grasping a piece of protruding black cotton, he pulled Carol's panties out of her. "Oh, they're so fucking wet," he said, holding the sodden garment.

Reaching down, Carol took the knickers from her producer and said, "Let me." And with that she locked eyes with the man again and loudly sucked the slimy, wet gusset of her own used panties, tasting her own essence. "Mm, yummy. I taste good don't I, Mal?"

Not willing to wait any longer, Malcolm grabbed his presenter, pulling her down to the towel. "Knees up, legs spread," he commanded, "You know how I like it." As she moved, he took her underwear from her and dropped them on his own discarded clothes.

Getting down on her back, Ms Kirkwood raised her knees and spread her legs wide, fully exposing her hot throbbing pussy. She could feel her juice dribbling out of it. Naked from the waist down, just like her boss, she looked over her heaving chest, wanting the cock pointed at her. "Fuck me, Mal. I need it."

With a growl, Malcolm scrambled between her thighs, grabbed his cock and pressed it against her waiting cunt. They both moaned as the dick filled her tunnel with an audible squish, copious juices forced out by the invading member. Bracing himself with his hands and knees, Mal wasted no more time and started fucking the sexy Scottish woman. Not holding back, he thrust in and out of the moaning blonde, feeling her clenching around him as he moved. Feeling her squirming below him, her hands crushing her tits, it was too much.

"Oh Jesus, Carol, I can't hold back again," and with that he started ejaculating inside her. Even as his cock exploded, Mal kept thrusting, kept fucking. He had gotten so wound up by Ms Kirkwood's actions, her wanton behaviour, that he just couldn't last any longer. Grunting as his dick throbbed and jetted spunk into the famous presenter, he felt his entire body vibrating with his orgasm.

Below, Carol was thrusting her crotch against her producer, their groins wetly smacking together. Her moans joined his as she felt semen filling her, felt the man throbbing as more and more spunk pulsed inside her.

"Dump your sperm inside me, Mal. Spunk it up me," she moaned, wrapping her legs around him, holding him deep inside her core as more cum flooded inside her.

With a finial quiver, the producer pumped his last into the hot blonde before rolling to lie beside her. Checking his watch he saw they still had some time.

"I've not seen your boobs today, Carol. Get them out for me."

Sitting up, the Scot turned. "Help me with the zip?" Once undone, Carol pulled the dress down, off her shoulders, off her arms and uncovered her huge, heaving tits, barely restrained in a lacy black bra. At a nod from Malcolm, she unclasped the brassiere and removed it, freeing her firm round boobs capped with large sensitive nipples. Guessing what her producer wanted, she lay back down.

Leaning over, Malcolm grasped her further boob, feeling the hot milky skin before his fingers found the erect nipple. As he pinched and twisted the teat, his lips closed on the nearer nipple and started to suckle.

"Mm, you love my boobs, don't you, Mal? Oh yes, you're teasing my nipples so nicely. Yes, pinch 'em, squeeze me. Suck my nipples, Mal, it feels so good," Ms Kirkwood moaned, pressing her own fingers to her clit. Her free hand found the sticky, throbbing cock and started squeezing it, teasing the half-hard member.

For several minutes the pair continued to grope each other, with Mal swapping the nipples in his mouth occasionally. His mouth was also busy with the Scottish jugs, kissing the round globes, licking them, tracing the veins beneath the hot skin. Fingers busy between her legs, Carol maintained her sexual high, happy to crest waves of pleasure without taking herself over the edge again just yet. In her other hand, now just as sticky as the cock it held, she continued to molest the man, much to his delight.

But eventually, Mal pulled back and said, "You better get dressed. We go live shortly." Quickly pulling on his shorts and trousers, and stuffing the wet dirty knickers back in his pocket, he watched as Carol replaced her bra. Always a delight to see her handling those massive puppies, he thought, smiling. The Scot then pulled the top of her dress back into place before wiggling her bum and hips as she pulled the purple dress back over her arse and down her legs. Noticing she was being watched, Carol exaggeratedly adjusted her tits with a beaming smile.

Returning the smile, Malcolm retrieved the towel.

Back outside the private garden, they quickly set up the camera by the carp pond. Rushing back from the red sofa, Malcolm had the two tennis rackets in his hands.

"One's a prop for the broadcast," he said, handing it over with a smirk.

"And the other?" the presenter asked, confused.

"Step back to the pond," he said, indicating the lower section of the brickwork encasing the pool. Once stood where he wanted her, Mal said, "Lift your dress up a bit." Looking around nervously, she did so until her thighs started to become exposed. With a devilish smile on his face, the producer squatted down in front of her, the other racket in his hand.

Still looking around, making sure no one could see, Carol Kirkwood jumped with surprise when she felt the handle of the tennis racket being pushed inside her pussy. Gasping with aroused shock, she stood still as more of the hard wood, eased by the copious mix of cunt cream and spunk, was eased inside her.

"Step back, Carol. That's it," Malcolm said, resting the head of the tennis racket on the edge of the carp pond. "Ok, a little further back."

Moving as instructed, Carol stepped back, feeling the wooden racket straightening and another few inches penetrated her snatch.

"Oh, you're a nasty, nasty man," she said, smiling.

"Thank you," he replied, pulling the purple dress back down. Looking at her he said, "That's good. You'd never be able to tell that you're wantonly fucking yourself with a tennis racket in public at Wimbledon." He smiled, handing her another bottle of cold water.

7:43 am

"...that's right Lou, I've been practicing my swing..."

Swinging the racket in the hand forced Carol's entire body to move. Her snatch twisted around the wooden object up inside her, rubbing against her walls, stimulating her G-spot and sending delightful sensations throughout her body.

"...my serve could do with some practice, though..."

Feigning to serve an imaginary ball, Carol Kirkwood squatted down, impaling herself more on the tennis racket under her dress. Bouncing up and down on the wooden shaft she continued to 'practice her swing'. Her pussy was already boiling and as Mal had said, fucking a tennis racket on live TV was really exciting her.

"Phew, I think I need to catch my breath, Lou," she laughed, her cheeks flushed.

"Thanks, Control. Speak to you soon," Mal said into his headset. Then to Carol, "We're clear."

"God Mal, I'm so horny now," she said in her sexy accent, now openly bouncing up and down on the racket stuffed up her twat. "That was so nasty. This is so nasty. I love it." She panted as she reached a quick climax.

"You looked like you enjoyed that," the producer smirked. "Here, let me help," he said, reaching between her legs and grasping the racket head. Taking a few steps forward, Carol Kirkwood pulled her juicy snatch off the shaft of the racket. "Here, have a taste," Mal said, holding out the sports equipment to her.

Taking it in her hand, Ms Kirkwood sniffed the wood, smelling herself and Mal on it. Then she licked the shaft, tasting the enticing mixed flavour. "Delicious. Nasty, but delicious," she said before running her tongue along the shaft again.

"Take a moment, I need to set the next shot up by the sofa," he said.

Taking a moment to catch her breath and enjoy her high, the weather presenter watched as Mal rearranged the cushions on the sofa. He did something else, but she couldn't see what he was doing and then he disappeared behind the couch and seemed to lie down. I'll find out soon enough, she thought as she concentrated on her breathing.

When Carol approached, Malcolm stood up and moved to the camera. Checking out the sofa, the Scot noticed one of the cushions had a hole all the way through. Looking through it, she saw the grass of Henman Hill beneath.

"Mal?" she asked, curious.

"Turn around," he said, stepping up behind her. Reaching down, he gripped the sides of the split at the back of her dress and pulled. A loud ripping sound announced the garment being torn.

"Mal!" Carol said, clearly shocked. "We've still got to broadcast!"

"Don't worry Carol. You'll be sitting down for the top of the hour as well as the following segment and I'll frame you for the rest so no one will know."

"Ok," she said, having no other choice.

"Right, I want you sitting directly over that hole."

With the Scot sitting on the red sofa, Malcolm disappeared behind it. Giving her a few directions, he soon had her sitting exactly where he wanted her. Jumping up, he returned to the camera and made some adjustments, framing the weather presenter. Through the camera, Carol was sitting down, knees together, straight backed. A slight adjustment to the camera to leave space again for the superimposed graphics and it was locked in position. Remote control for the camera in hand, Mal disappeared behind the sofa again.

"We go live in one minute," he said.

7:59 am

Having guessed what the man had in mind, Carol Kirkwood wasn't surprised when she felt movement through the cushion and a finger touching her naked wet pussy. Quickly, it pushed into her slick hole, wiggling around, stimulating her already sensitive walls.

"Thirty seconds," Mal said.

Carol thought herself ready, even with a finger slowly swirling around her twat. But then the digit withdrew and she felt it sliding backwards before pressing against her arsehole. She gasped, feeling the finger pressing against her, pushing inwards.

"Ten seconds," he called out, an obvious smile in his voice.

A squeak escaped the hot blonde's mouth as the entire finger entered her rectum, swallowed eagerly by her welcoming backdoor.

"...2...1...go."

"At it looks like it's going to be a pleasant day here..."

The next thirty seconds felt so much longer to Carol Kirkwood as she was anally fingered live on TV in front of the nation. Her modesty hidden by her torn dress and the sofa she sat on.

Back in the studio, Louise Minchin said, "Looks like Carol still needs to catch her breath..."

"And we're clear," Malcolm said, but he didn't move except to push a second finger into the welcoming Scottish bottom.

"Mal, that's so nasty," she breathed, pushing back against the fingers.

"Mm, I think your arse wants more. What do you think, Carol?"

"Yes. Please."

"I'm afraid it's going to have to wait. The next segment is the interview with the groundskeeper."

"Shit! My dress!

"Don't worry. Pull it tight on the camera side and place the towel on the other. Anyway, he'll be too busy looking at your chest to notice."

"True," she said.

"Oh, one more thing," Mal said before disappearing back behind the sofa.

Carol squeaked again but not because of a finger. Below her, the producer had taken one of the tennis rackets and pushed it back into her pussy.

"How's that?" Mal asked from below.

"Feels nasty. Awful and disgraceful...it feels really fucking good, Mal," she said, pushing down against the hard wooden shaft. Still so horny and worked up, thoughts of the interview fled her mind. Tensing and relaxing her thighs and arse, she started riding the up and down the racket, although only managing to travel a few inches because the racket was at an angle.

"I'm glad you like nasty," Malcolm said as he suddenly pulled the racket away.

"What..." Carol began when she felt the sports equipment return. Only this time it was pressing up against her arsehole. "Are you serious..." she tried to say but her butthole betrayed her, relaxing on its own and, aided by the mix of cum from her cunt, swallowed several inches of hard wooden shaft. "Oh my god," she sighed, quickly adjusting to the anal penetration. Always something she enjoyed, but this was something else.

"Right, don't move. I'll go get the groundskeeper."

"Mm...okay," she replied, concentrating on the wonderful burning sensation of her sphincter.

"One more thing..." he said before adjusting the racket, standing it straight up under Ms Kirkwood's bottom.

"Oh fuck," she moaned as several more inches were forced up her bum.

A few minutes later, the producer returned. "Carol, you know Clive Waters, I believe," Mal said introducing the head groundskeeper.

"Hello Clive, it's nice to see you again." Her voice sounded normal, but Carol's eyes had a glazed look to them and a faint smile was on her lips.

"Ms Kirkwood. Wonderful to see you," the groundsman said, handing her a small clear tub of strawberries. He looked a little puzzled by the beautiful blonde lady's manner.

"Oh thank you, Clive," she said in her sexy Scottish accent.

"Please forgive Carol. She can't move as the camera has already been framed and the tripod has been giving us some trouble this morning.

"Ah, I understand. We're having some issues with some equipment as well. The downside of a warm day I guess," Clive replied.

After a brief chat, Mal said, "Ok, were about to go live. And...3...2...1..."

8:17 am

"...so tell us, Clive, how is the grass on Centre Court holding up..."

Professional though she was, Carol Kirkwood was feeling so horny. Her twat felt like it hadn't been dry all morning. She could feel pussy juice seeping out between her big cunt lips, smearing her inner thighs. And her arsehole! Her anus and bowels felt electric, the hard wooden shaft stimulating her anal ring. Even as she talked, she kept squeezing and relaxing her sphincters, enjoying the burning sensations she was feeling. Animated in her movements as she talked, she was able to stir the end of the shaft imbedded within her.

"...and how do you cope with the warmer days? It's feeling rather warm already..."

Face flushed, Ms Kirkwood locked her face into an interested-looking smile even as she gritted her teeth. Discreetly pushing down, taking one more inch into her rectum, she felt an orgasm rumbling through her. Holding herself as still as possible and maintaining her smile, she rode the waves of pleasure.

"...it certainly does feel like it's going to be a hot day..." she laughed, fanning her face with a question card, desperately hoping it wasn't obvious she had just climaxed on camera in front of the nation. Although it wouldn't have been the first time.

"Well, thank you for joining us this morning Clive..."

"And we're off the air. Thank you Clive, that was great," the producer said, smiling brightly. The groundskeeper didn't seem to have a clue what had happened but Mal could tell Carol had just cum.

"You're more than welcome. Always a delight to see you Ms Kirkwood. If you'll excuse me I need to go check the carp pond." Walking off, he muttered something about smelling something fishy...

"How are you feeling, Carol?" Malcolm smirked.

"Jesus, Mal, I came on camera. I couldn't help it!" she blushed.

"Couldn't help it? So you weren't fucking that tennis racket that's still up your arse? You weren't trying to cram every inch up your bum?"

Carol blushed brighter and smirked, "Maybe." She laughed. "I think he could smell my pussy," she said, nodding towards Clive as the groundskeeper prodded around the fish pond.