Getting the Job: Carol Kirkwood Ch. 06

Getting the Job: Carol Kirkwood Part 6: The New Producer

By Imorol

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

Now, to the story...

Carol Kirkwood was feeling very frustrated. Inside she felt pent up, pensive, but she didn't allow it to show. Smiling into the camera lens, she was presenting the day's weather. Having finished the live broadcasts she and her new director/producer, Neil Hearst, where recording the forecast to be repeated throughout the morning on the BBC News.

'...the weather front moves down, bringing all this rain with it,' she said.

Turning to the blue screen where the digital graphics would be added, her large bust stood in profile, the curves tightly hugged by her bright pink blouse. Tracing the path the weather would take with her hand caused a jiggle under the top. It was very much deliberate.

'...especially over the highlands.'

Body twisting back towards the camera, hand still gesturing at the map, caused Carol to lean forwards. Through the lens, the home audience was to be rewarded with an eyeful of her cleavage, full round breasts pressed together, framed in the neckline of her top. On purpose the Scottish presenter had left one too many buttons undone.

And still no response, she thought as she smiled into the camera, the recording session coming to an end.

Two months ago had seen one of the staffing shake-ups the BBC periodically went through. Amongst those changes had been the team behind the weather forecast production. Reassured ahead of time by her agent, Carol was in no danger of being replaced. Although her previous producer, Trevor Whitlow, had moved into a different department, his replacement was yet another associate of the SF Talent Agency.

One month ago she had been introduced to the new producer, a much younger man named Neil Hearst. At that time it had been made clear that Ms Kirkwood's arrangement to exchange sexual favours to maintain her career position was to transfer to Mr Hearst. Carol had eagerly accepted the terms, as had Mr Hearst.

And yet he still hasn't laid a hand on me, she thought. Yet it's clear he is interested.

Indeed, every time over the past month while they had been producing the weather forecasts, Neil's eyes had been constantly vacillating between the twins of her chest, her hips, crotch and backside. Although he knew he could touch her, that the presenter had more than agreed to be taken whenever he desired, it appeared he was hesitant to do anything.

Carol had eventually come to the conclusion that her new producer was simply shy, didn't know how to ask for whatever it was he wanted.

Bloody obvious what he wants though, the frustrated blonde thought seeing the man's eyes focused on her deliberate display of cleavage. And he's not the only one who wants something.

Through her association with the SF Talent Agency and the various men and women she had come into contact with, the mature presenter had enjoyed a great deal of exciting and extraordinarily satisfying sex. But it had all come to a halt when Trevor left and Neil arrived. Used to a lot of sexual activity, much of it risqué, the sudden cessation had led to her current state of frustration.

Enough of this! He won't make the first move? I will, she thought.

'Great job, Carol,' Mr Hearst said, eyes still looking at her chest. 'That should do it for today.'

Standing before him, he couldn't help but look at Ms Kirkwood's considerable charms. Her bright pink blouse emphasised the size of her boobs, round and full under the bright silk. With every movement she made they seemed to jiggle, teasing him. Below she wore a loose black skirt and Neil couldn't help but wonder what she had on under there.

However, Carol had been correct in her deductions. A younger man, Neil was shy. Although not inexperienced with women, there were certain things he enjoyed and wanted to experience with the Scot standing there, but wasn't sure he could ask for them. Newly associated with the SF Talent Agency, he had not fully experienced the benefits such an association brought with it.

'Neil, could you spare a moment,' Carol asked as she unclipped her microphone, hands knocking her breasts suggestively.

'Of course, Carol. What is it?' the man replied, turning his attention away from his camera setup and fighting the urge to stare at her shirt again.

Having decided to offer herself on a plate, the beautiful Scot pressed her arms to her body and thrust out her chest. Already prominent, her décolletage rose until it threatened to spill from her blouse. Putting a sway in her hips she crossed the small studio to stand before her new producer. As she moved she felt a growing warmth as her excitement grew.

Without saying a word, her blue eyes locked on his own brown ones, she reached out and took hold of his hand. Raising her black skirt with the other hand, she pulled his under the garment. Still without saying a word, but with a warm smile on her face, Carol Kirkwood pressed her producer's hand against her warm knickers.

'This is yours, Mr Hearst. Anytime you want it,' she said, sexy Scottish accent husky with excitement. Under her skirt she pressed his hand tighter to her after a brief moment, forcing his fingers to touch her underwear, to feel her heated crotch. Silently she urged him to touch her of his own accord.

Mouth falling open, eyes dropping to her chest once more, he didn't say anything. Within his trousers, though, his rapidly inflating cock thumped against the cloth, eagerly proclaiming the young man's interest.

The producer was clearly interested yet did nothing. Determined to make something happen, the weather presenter started to slowly rub his hand against her knickers. As she manipulated his fingers against her rapidly heating pussy, she caused his palm to slide over her hard little clit. A hot feminine gasp sounded in response to the stimulation, hips slowly rocking back and forth. Increasing the pressure she put on Neil's hand, Carol started to grind her crotch against it. Her fanny was tingling as moisture gathered at her flaps.

'Touch me, Neil. I want you to touch me down there,' the blonde woman said, her tone hot and seductive.

After a moment more of hesitation, he finally responded. Under Carol's black skirt the TV producer started to move his hand himself. Slowly at first, he explored, brushing over the soft cotton, savouring the feel of them with his fingertips. Beneath he could feel the swelling pussy of Ms Kirkwood, pushing back at his probing touch. Fingers sliding further down, investigating ever more eagerly, they were bathed in feminine heat.

Exploring the cleft, he sought the entrance to Carol's pussy. Feeling wet cotton, he knew he'd found it. Digging inwards, he pushed, seeking to enter through her knickers. Increasing warmth and wetness greeted the renewed probing.

At last. Ooh, it feels good, Carol thought, delighting in finally being groped by the new executive.

'Mm, yes,' she hissed loudly as the poking finger prodded more insistently. 'Yes, Neil. Touch me,' she encouraged, letting go of his hand, her own still holding her skirt up.

Heart racing with excitement, the BBC executive couldn't believe he really had his hand up Carol Kirkwood's skirt, that he was actually feeling-up the sexy blonde from TV.

God, she's hot, he thought, mind abuzz. Fingers continuing to dig into her slit through her knickers, he pushed between the outer labia. She's wet! Oh man, Carol Kirkwood is wet for me. With increasing firmness he groped, hand cupping her crotch, sliding over the smooth underwear, fingers scrabbling at her ever slickening womanhood.

'Ooh, yes. That's it,' Carol said, eyes taking in the young man's flushed face, the glazed look falling over his eyes. Hips still rocking, crotch pressing into his touch, her body encouraged him as much as her words. 'Yes, feel my fanny,' she said as the fingers began to squeeze. 'Feel how warm it is for you. You're doing that, making me hot.'

Realising he had a free hand, the producer reached round and grabbed Ms Kirkwood's arse. Palm cupping a round, soft buttock, he caressed it. Applying pressure he made the softy moaning woman step forward, pressing their bodies together. Eyes dropping, he looked down into the deep valley of her cleavage, smashed up against him.

Gasping with a sudden intake of breath, the exited Scot delighted in the man taking charge. Feminine honey ran from her pussy, soaking into the black cotton of her knickers.

'I'm wet for you. Can you feel it?'

'Y...yes. Yes I can,' Hearst mumbled.

Hearing Carol Kirkwood issuing such vulgar sentiments in her sexy accent, feeling her body pressed against his even as he groped her left him feeling more aroused than he had been in ages. Between her legs, heat wafted over his hand, increasing moisture greeted his ever questing fingers.

Grabbing the bulge of the man's cock, the beautiful Scot groped him in return. Oh my, she thought feeling the thickness she'd discovered. The tingling in her pussy increased, her clit throbbing excitedly at the thought of taking Neil's surprisingly thick dick. What will this thing feel like inside me? she pondered, trying to gage its girth through his clothes. Unable to close her grip around the shaft, she started sliding her hand along the shaft, wanking the man through his trousers. He's so damn hard. I can feel it pounding, she thought, its pulse seemingly running up her arm.

At the stunning blonde's touch upon his member, the producer felt warmth rushing over his body. I'm going to cum real soon, he suddenly thought, only realising now just how much he was throbbing. But before I do...

'Oh, fuck,' he hissed as he suddenly pushed his hand into Ms Kirkwood's sodden knickers. Delving into the woman's underwear, he felt soft downy hair, wet heat, and then slippery flesh as his fingers slid through slick lips. Having found the entrance to Carol's cunt, he snaked a finger inside. Engulfing the squirming digit, the slick walls of her cunny sucked at him, warmth enveloping and drawing the probe deeper.

'Finger me, Mr Hearst,' Carol gasped at the sudden and very welcome penetration. 'Finger fuck me. I'm so close,' she begged.

In the small BBC weather studio, Carl Kirkwood stood, holding her black skirt up, her stacked chest pressed tightly to her producer. Her other hand grasped his cock, running along the thickness hidden within the man's trousers. A growing wet spot forming and spreading at her touch. Under her skirt the man's hand was pushed inside the soaking cotton of her black knickers. A finger plunged rapidly in and out of her creaming snatch. Moans sounded from the mature blonde's, her eyes closed as her orgasm built. Grunts came from the man as his other hand grabbed the weather presenter's arse, squeezing, crushing. Man and woman masturbated each other, their bodies rubbing together as they raced to their mutual climax.

'Oh, Mr Hearst,' Carol cried out as her orgasm broke over her. Hips rocking, body vibrating, her pussy convulsed. Walls slick with her cum, they squeezed down around the Neil's finger, tightening their grip. Pelvis thrusting, she ground fucked herself on the man's burrowing finger. As if matching, her fingers squeezed the cock she grasped, sliding along the thick shaft to pinch the bloated throbbing head.

'Carol...I'm...going to... '

The TV producer didn't finish speaking. Instead, his body bucked, hips thrusting against the woman's groping hand. Balls rising, prick thudding in his clothes, he plunged a second finger into the Scottish woman panting against him.

'I'm cumming! Oh, Mr Hearst...I...cumming,' Carol cried out again as the second finger filled her. The sudden application stretching her quivering hole sent Carol over the edge. Burying her face into the young man's solid chest, she moaned as she came. Convulsions rippling along her cunt, her cream expelled to further wet her knickers and the hand within molesting her. Her needy crotch humped against the intruding digits, ground her clit against the rough heel of his hand.

Neil Hearst grunted, humping against Carol as he fucked the sexy blonde with his fingers. Together they juddered through their mutual climax. The man ejaculated into his trousers, uncaring about the mess being made. In turn, Ms Kirkwood filled her underwear with girl gush, thick juices spurting out around the still plunging fingers.

After a few moments they pulled apart, breathing heavily. Letting her skirt drop, Carol stepped back. Between her legs wet cotton clung to her steamy snatch, ripples of pleasure sending delightful aftershocks through her body. Looking down she noticed the large wet spot she had caused in her producer's trousers and smiled mischievously. Taking in the view of the weather girl's chest all morning had left the man with a backlog of semen that hadn't had the chance to escape earlier.

Serves him right for not taking advantage earlier, she thought mischievously.

'Thank you, Mr Hearst. I hope you'll feel free to use me now,' she said before leaning forward and giving him a peck on the cheek. Turning, she walked out of the tiny studio, a spring in her step and a satisfied grin on her flushed face.

***

The following day found Carol Kirkwood back in the tiny BBC weather studio. As per her normal routine, she had gone through her preparations, checking the charts and memorising the forecast.

For today she had chosen to wear a stretch cotton dress, burgundy with white polka dots. Clinging tightly to her body, it accentuated her hourglass figure. Stretched over the curves of her full breasts, a trouser-warming cleavage was on show. Tracing her body down to her hips, it hugged them as they flared outwards. Tight over her bum, it held her, enhancing her buttocks, teasing the outline of her rear crevice.

Making her feel particularly feminine, the dress was one of Carol's favourites. She also knew that Mr Hearst appreciated it. The last time she'd worn the dress she'd noted his interest. Throughout that particular day he'd been constantly ogling her, his attention divided between her prominent bust, womanly hips and curvy bum.

Looking across to the camera position she wasn't at all surprised to see her producer looking at her already. Lowering her gaze she was pleased to note a prominent swelling in his trousers.

'Neil? Could you give me a hand with this?' As she spoke, the sexy blonde pretended to adjust the microphone clipped to her open neckline.

Zooming in through the camera, the eyes of the TV producer widened, a dirty grin spreading along his lips. In front of him he watched as Ms Kirkwood fiddled with the audio device. Every movement she made caused her lovely big boobs to wobble, her cleavage jiggling under her tight dress. It was mesmerizing.

So sexy, he thought, moving from behind the camera to help his presenter. After yesterday, he didn't feel self-conscious about the hard-on that had sprung up in his trousers. Hell, I hope I get to use it on her today.

'What's the issue?' Neil asked as he looked down Carol's top, avidly enjoying her tits jiggering about.

'It's this new microphone, Neil. I just can't get it to settle in place. Can you help?' Dropping her hands to her sides, she pushed her chest out, a not-so-subtle invitation.

'Let me have a look,' he said, trying to hide the grin at his intentional pun.

Still unsure of how to approach the beautiful Scot, the man took his time, enjoying the view of her heavenly valley. As he adjust the clip holding the device to the dress he found so appealing, he "accidentally" brushed against Carol's tits, feeling their soft warmth against his fingers and hands.

'Sorry,' he muttered, meaning nothing of the sort.

'That's quite alright,' she replied, giving him a welcoming smile and knocking his hands deliberately with her chest.

With the clock ticking down to six am, the microphone was adjusted and clipped into place. Reluctantly, Mr Hearst moved back behind the camera and made some final adjustments.

6:00 am

'...and there will be a lot of moisture in the air. We'll have more about that, in about fifteen minutes.'

'Thanks, Control. We're clear, Carol,' the young TV producer called out, clicking the camera off.

Peering over the top of the camera, he looked wistfully at the star's chest, wishing he'd taken the opportunity to have a proper feel before work intruded upon the moment.

Carol saw the man's look, could practically hear the thoughts running through his head. When he'd been adjusting her microphone and brushed against her, she'd felt little tingles of excitement, and had hoped he would just grab her. Just grab my tits and touch me, she'd thought. Well, if I need to take charge here, so be it.

Stepping across the small studio the mature blonde stopped next to her producer. Hands behind her back she thrust her ample charms forward, a patent offer for him to look. As his eyes dropped down to drink in the vision, she smiled, bright and warm.

'Mr Hearst, did you enjoy fingering me yesterday?' she asked. An instant blush appeared on his face. 'I certainly enjoyed it. I really liked you making me cum on your fingers. Is there something you'd like to do today? Right now?' As she spoke Carol wiggled her shoulders, purposefully causing movement under her dress.

Thunderstruck by the coarse language coming from the sexy woman, a contradiction to her public image, and the wanton display practically rubbing in his face, the producer stood with his mouth agape. His eyes, however, remained glued forward, staring down the front of Ms Kirkwood's dress.

'You can touch my boobs,' Britain's favourite weather presenter said.

Issued in her sexy accent with a warm tone, her words penetrated the fog filling the man's head. His eyes flicked up to hers, trying to gauge if she really meant what she'd said. But before he could respond further, Carol took matters into her own hands again.

Taking one of the producer's hands, she raised it to her chest. Still controlling him, she pressed his palm against her, felt her boob compressed beneath their touch. Excitement building within, Carol took his free hand adding it to the other breast. Smiling, she held his hands upon her. Making circles she forced the young producer to touch her. After a moment she felt him moving of his own accord. Pressure increased under his palms as they pressed forward. His fingers moved, light squeezing, almost stroking her with the tips. Releasing the man's hands, she let him touch her.

They're so beautiful, Neil thought, watching the pair of tits moving to his touch under the tight dress. They're so soft, and so warm. Eagerly he began to properly grope Carol Kirkwood, pushing her tits together and up, playing with her cleavage, making it swell at the straining neckline before letting them drop, only to repeat over and over. Never having had the chance to play with such large ones before, he was fascinated with how they felt, how they moved. Like a kid with a new toy he couldn't help but experiment, seeing them shake and wobble as his hands almost juggled them through her clothing.

Finally, the blonde woman thought, delighting in the fondling of her bosom. Standing there as she was felt up, tingling warmth brewed between her legs. Already her pussy was starting to salivate, moistening in preparation.

Continuing to caress the pair of large tits, the man could feel the twin nubs of Carol's nipples, hard and erect, pressing back against his touch through her dress, her bra. Bra, he thought. Cupping his fingers around the Scot's seductive curves, he brought his thumbs into play. Teasing himself, he traced the line of the bra cups through the tight fitting dress. Moving the stubby digits further down, he brought them to the teats. As his fingers squeezed the mammaries, his thumbs explored the concealed nipples. Licking his lips as he did so, Neil brushed against the hard tips before pressing as if they were buttons.