Getting the Job: Carol Kirkwood Ch. 02

Laughing, the producer said, "Maybe," and handed the presenter another bottle of water.

"Thank you Mal. Actually, I might just pop to the toilet..."

"Hold it in for me Carol," the producer interrupted, smiling devilishly.

By the time the groundskeeper finished his inspection and left, there was only a little time remaining before the next broadcast.

"Ok Carol, the next segment will actually be over by the carp pond. Come on." Pointing to the brickwork surrounding the pond, Mal had the weather presenter sit straddling a corner. Spreading her legs wide, her dress tore even more. "I'll check...perfect," Malcolm said.

Sitting as she was, Carol could feel her bare twat and her lower bum were exposed below her. Ah, I get it, she thought. Shaking her head, she laughed at the grin on Mal's face.

"Ready?" he asked.

8:52 am

"...and the carp pond has been freshly restocked this summer..."

As she talked into the camera, which was focused on her from the waist up, Carol Kirkwood relaxed her bladder and after a moment she started to pee.

"It looks lovely there this morning, Carol. A calm place to enjoy between tennis matches," Louise Minchin said in the studio.

"Oh yes, it is relaxing," Ms Kirkwood said as she continued to pee into the pond. She was trying to let it out slowly, but then she saw the producer motioning to her. "It's very relaxing, Lou..." she said, letting her muscles loosen completely. No longer being restrained, her bladder began to empty in earnest. A strong stream of pee erupted from her crotch, splashing loudly into the pond below her. Oh, that feels good, she thought as the pee continued to jet out of her.

"It sounds nice and peaceful there Carol. That waterfall sounds beautiful," Louise said.

"Eh...oh yes! Yes, the waterfall. Yes, it's very relaxing, very calming, It's a great pressure relief," Carol said, quickly covering her surprise, thinking she had been caught.

"Can we see it do you think?" Louise asked.

"My cameraman is shaking his head. I think we're having trouble with the tripod," she said, looking at Mal who was grinning from ear to ear. Smiling herself, Carol pressed down on her bladder forcing the last of her pee out in an extra loud stream.

I can't believe this! Peeing on camera, in front of Britain! God, I'm so fucking horny still, she thought even as she continued with the weather.

"It's been a wonderful morning here, and the day should be just as fun on the courts."

"And, we're off the air. Nicely done, Carol. Feeling better?" Malcolm asked, his grin bigger than ever.

"Fuck me right now, Mal," she demanded.

Seeing the heat in her eyes, the producer was not going to say no. "I'll see you in the garden in a moment," he said. Dashing back to the big red sofa, he grabbed the souvenir towel and the strawberries gifted by the groundskeeper. Linking into the London control room he reported a technical issue with the camera, stating they wouldn't make it for the broadcast at the top of the hour. Then he rushed to the secluded garden again.

Seeing the man arrive, Carol grabbed the towel from him and quickly bent over to lay it out on the ground. She was so antsy. She needed to cum again so badly. Christ, I feel like I'm in heat, she thought. Before she could straighten up, hands grabbed her arse, squeezing. Those hands pushing her down onto all fours, she spread her knees wide and tilted her crotch. Offering myself like the horny bitch I am. A hard cock pressed against her sodden cunt then delved deep inside her before it started thrusting in and out.

"Fuck yes, Mal. That's what I need," she moaned, pushing back against his thrusts. She sent the message clearly that she wanted it badly. More moans escaped her lips as the cock continued to pummel her snatch, driving her towards her next orgasm.

Above her, the producer was groaning his own delight, watching as Carol's cunt butter churned, turning to a thick white froth around his dick as it worked in and out of her.

"My arse! Jam it in my arse!" she suddenly cried out.

Pulling out his slick cream coated member, Malcolm pressed against the already open and inviting dark hole of Carol Kirkwood's bum. Slowly he began to penetrate her arsehole, feeling it flower open as it started to suck him in.

Impatient for any teasing, Ms Kirkwood jammed her arse backwards, impaling herself on the cock. She took the entire thing balls deep with a long moan of delight.

"Now bugger me, Mal. Shag my arse!" she growled over her shoulder.

Fuck, I love it when she's like this, the producer thought. Often, Carol Kirkwood was a sexual submissive, acquiescing to the desires of others. But sometimes, when she got really worked up, she would start demanding what she wanted.

For the next several minutes Ms Kirkwood was happily sodomised in the secluded garden atop Henman Hill at Wimbledon. The cock pistoned in and out of her arse, heavy testicles slapped against her enflamed pussy, clit gladly being spanked by the wrinkled sack.

Yanking down the zip of her dress, Mal helped her expose her huge milky tits. His hands cupping them, squeezing them each time he thrust into her backside. Taking her nipples between fingers and thumbs, he pulled on her teats, almost trying to milk her. Carol moaned in delightful pain and pleasure, her hips continually bucking back, meeting each deep thrust. Hips churning, sphincters clasping the driving shaft, she started to orgasm.

With a loud scream she went rigid before her entire body started shaking violently. Thrashing and squirming on her hands and knees, her pussy exploded, expelling a torrent of churned cunt cream. God! It feels like I'm pissing again, she thought, not entirely sure she wasn't.

Her sphincters feeling like they were crushing his dick with the intensity of Carol's orgasm, Mal pulled out with an almighty effort of willpower. Grabbing the tub of strawberries, he ripped off the top and barely got his dick aimed at them before his hips bucked and he started shooting jet after jet of thick salty cum onto the fruit. Listening to the weather presenter moaning through her climax as she now frigged her clit, he moaned himself as gobs of hot cum pulsed out of her balls.

It was some time before they were able to rouse themselves and leave the garden. There was just enough time for them to quickly set up for the next live broadcast. As the producer readjusted the camera, Ms Kirkwood reached the big red sofa. The tennis racket was still sticking up through the cushion. Throwing a sexy smile at Mal, she guided the wooden shaft back to her gaping arsehole and sat down on it again. A long groan escaped her lips.

9:24 am

"...yes, Victoria, these Wimbledon strawberries and cream are absolutely scrumptious..."

Carol Kirkwood, Britain's favourite weather forecaster, sitting atop Henman Hill on the big red sofa with a tennis racket jammed deep in her arse, eating strawberries covered in thick hot salty semen.

"Delicious," she said.

End of Part 2.