Getting the Job: Carol Kirkwood Ch. 06

Practically panting in anticipation, the young man knelt on the tiled floor, head between Carol Kirkwood's knees, gazing into her crotch. As the moment stretched out he looked on. Once more he drank in the details of everything he'd seen mere moments before, but now looking different as Carol sat there, legs akimbo, pussy flaps open.

'Here it comes,' the sexy Scot said. As the first short stream flowed from her, she could feel Neil's hot breath on her inner thigh, its warmth running along her leg. Trying to ignore it she let her pee flow.

Buzzing with exhilaration the young BBC executive watched Carol Kirkwood begin to piss. At first a short rivulet of clear warm pee spattered into the toilet bowl, only to quickly peter off into a few drops. But then another, stronger stream spurted from the woman accompanied by a sigh of relief. Looking on, the man gazed in rapt wonder as the TV celeb pissed right in front of him, barely a foot away from the burning cheeks of his flushed face. Breathing shallowly, he could smell her crotch, her salty pee, hot skin, smelly fanny.

For a moment the stream slackened and Neil thought the show was over already. But it wasn't. With a louder sigh Carol opened her bladder fully. A torrent of piss erupted from her. Hissing as it went, the surge of hot liquid splashed into the bowl. Trying to burn the moment into his memory, the man stared on. A little under the clit, he watched the urethra dilating as the tsunami of piss jetted from it.

This is so fucking hot, he thought, mesmerised.

Leaning closer, hot cheeks touching Ms Kirkwood's thighs an inch or so above her spread knees he continued to watch. There was a momentarily weakening of the stream before it suddenly erupted once more. Heat caressed the man's chin, his cheeks, and the smell of the crotch intensified.

Too soon for Neil the stream slowed and then stopped. Up close, he could see a few drops clinging to the labia, refusing to fall into the toilet bowl. Above him the relieved weather presenter responsible for this particular downpour shifted. Reaching over, she gathered a small wad of toilet tissue. Moving to wipe herself dry, she paused as she met the man's gaze. Eyebrow raised, her mouth quirked.

'Can I lick you clean?' her producer asked, voice husky.

'Of course,' she replied, delighted with his response. Over the years she'd gained a love for kinky sex, and this fit right in there. Thinking quickly, she decided the best way was for her to stand. Doing so a little awkwardly, she kept her legs open, her crotch exposed, pants around her ankles as she held her dress at her waist.

Kneeling before the weather presenter, the TV executive licked his lips then leaned forward, tilting his head up. With a broad swipe of his tongue he licked the steamy blonde's hanging cuntal lips. Taste buds set aquiver he savoured the drops of salty pee mixed with the tangy girl cum still coating her. Another swipe, harder, seeking more of the alluring flavour. Pressing against the labia he probed upwards between them, saving the tingling on his tongue as he captured a bit more of the woman's piss. Swapping to the outside, he licked up and down the outer edge of the sticky fleshy, probing them with the tip of his tongue.

A little higher and he found Ms Kirkwood's urethra. Remembering the tiny hole opening to let her flow free, he explored it, poking just the tiniest tip of his tongue into it. Over him the Scot let out an encouraging moan. Flicking her clit resulted in a louder, deeper moan and a shudder as her hips spasmed.

Having already cleared the few drops away, he turned his attention to Carol's cum, the slight fish smell he could detect heightening his excitement. Already at the sensitive little bud, he wrapped his tongue around her clit. Poking and prodding, he traced every fold and curve of it and its protective hood. Against his chin he could feel fresh hot moisture as the woman began to cream once more.

'Yes,' Carol hissed as the rough surface of the inquisitive tongue rasped over her delicate spot. 'Mm, I like that.'

Closing his lips and suckling her clit, he treated it as if it were one of her nipples. Her hips juddered in response, pressing forward, urging him to suck. As he did, his tongue flicked the very tip, torturing the now heavily breathing blonde standing over him.

Jaw moving as he sucked, Neil felt the increasingly present womanly juices smearing his face. Tongue swirling, he moved to teasing the soft fleshy labia before trapping them, sucking them clean of Carol's cum. Suddenly he enclosed as much of her writhing crotch as he possibly could with his mouth and hungrily, desperately sucked. As his mouth sucked, his tongue found the opening to her vagina and snaked inside. The flavour intensified, the contracting walls sucking at his tongue. Turning his head he started snogging Carol Kirkwood's snatch right there in the toilet.

Taken by surprise, the Scot cried out. Hand shooting outwards, she grasped to top of the stall, holding herself up as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. Her other hand grabbed the man's head and pressed him deeper into her body. Hips gyrating, she rode his face to a third orgasm.

'Ugh...yes...cumming. Oh! God, Mr Hearst I'm cumming on your face! Suck my fanny. Suck my fanny and drink my cum,' she moaned, grinding against him.

Obeying, he did just what his star demanded. Mouth latched onto her, he sucked and sucked. As girl gush spurted into his mouth, he momentarily thought Ms Kirkwood was pissing on him. That only excited him even more and he sucked harder. Taste buds assaulted by her tangy, yet sweet, yet pungent flavour, he began to lap up and down her slit, chasing every drop, every smear of her cum.

Breathing hard, the third orgasm devolving into a series of wonderful aftershocks, Carol started to come down from her high. Coming to her senses, she felt hands sliding up along her thighs, making for her bum. Realising what Mr Hearst probably had in mind, she considered what the time most likely was.

No, there isn't time enough, she thought. Although she very much wanted to experience his rather talented tongue elsewhere, there just wasn't the time right now. I'm surprised we've only been in here ten or fifteen minutes.

'Thank you so very much, Mr Hearst. That was... Wow, that felt so amazing,' she gushed. Kneeling before her, the man's face was bright red, his cheeks, mouth and nose all shiny with her womanly nectar. 'But,' she gasped, trying to catch her breath, 'but we have to get back for the next forecast.'

Able only to nod his head, the producer slowly climbed to his feet and stepped back. Supported by the door behind him, he watched as the mature blonde pulled her satin knickers up her legs before settling them over her satisfied quim. A few tugs later and her dress was back in place, hands gliding over her beautiful bum as she smoothed it down.

7:21 am

'Ready, Carol? We're about to go live to the control room,' Neil said, looking the starlet over. Despite their debauchery in the bathroom, her appearance was fine.

'Ok, I'm ready to go,' she replied.

'Just one more thing.'

Crossing the room he moved behind the broadcaster. Without warning he yanked her dress up. Grabbing the waistband of her satin pants he pulled Carol's knickers down, all the way to her ankles. Just as quickly, he tugged her dress back into place. Following her example from the ladies room, he briefly ran his hands over her bum, hips and thighs, smoothing the garment.

A minute later, Carol Kirkwood was live before the nation. As she delivered the weather forecast, she flashed her enchanting cleavage at the home audience. Below the view of the camera, her knickers remained trapped around her ankles. On his hands and knees was Mr Hearst, his face in her underwear, licking and sucking at her dirty gusset.

The second they were off the air, the camera was deactivated with a remote control by the kneeling man. Sliding his hands along the celebrity's thighs, he pushed her dress up, uncovering her sweltering crotch, her round buttocks.

'All fours,' he ordered, his voice almost a bark of command.

Automatically obeying, she turned her back to him and got down on the floor. Arching her back, her bum was presented. Strong masculine hands grabbed her cheeks, thumbs pressing into her rear crevice. Pressure as they were parted, her twitching anus exposed. Looking over her shoulder she saw the man's face disappearing, hot breath tickling her nether hole. Oh god, please, she thought when his tongue eagerly began burrowing into her sphincter.

Overexcited by everything he'd experienced this morning, things he had only dreamed of doing, Neil Hearst couldn't, wouldn't, control himself any longer. Ms Kirkwood had cum at least three times. It was his turn now. However, he wanted to eat her arsehole first.

Fingers holding the wonderful arse cheeks, thumbs keeping them parted he attacked the slightly dilated anal rosebud. Not an anal virgin then, he thought with a pang of jealousy. But still he forged on, burying his tongue into her backdoor. Under his grip he felt her body writhing, hips gyrating as she enjoyed his ministrations.

Aggressively probing, he explored the mature woman's bum hole. With the sensitive tip of his tongue he investigated the crinkled ring. Twitching, it almost felt as if she sought to suck him into her rectum. Stiffening his tongue he squirreled it inside. A sweet taste enraptured his explorations, the taste of Carol Kirkwood's anal insides. Saliva filling his mouth, dripping from his lips, he tongue fucked the moaning, squirming Scot in the arse.

But he had become too excited, hyper stimulated. A raging bar of need, his prick was aching something fierce, trapped inside his trousers. It would no longer be denied, and neither would the TV producer. Frantically scrabbling at his waist, he nearly ripped his belt off as he removed it. A frustrating moment later his button was undone and zip pulled down. Pushing his trousers down, he forced them under his knees and to his ankles.

Shuffling up to the woman on her hands and knees, black underwear stretched between her own ankles, he mounted her. One hand in the small of her arched back, the other guided his straining dick to her hole, the long thick cunt lips already open, the bright pink flesh of her inner pussy shiny and inviting. The momentary sensation as his cockhead passed through the sticky labia, then the quivering hole of her vagina kissing the tip, then stretching wider, sucking him into her body even as he pressed forward.

Chin dropping to her chest, Carol Kirkwood moaned deeply, gutturally, as her producer pushed into her. Yesterday it had felt thick, girthy under her fingers. But now as it entered her, as she felt it forcing her walls to make way for it, he felt ginormous.

'Oh, yes. Fuck me, Mr Hearst. Fuck my fanny,' she wailed as the searing bar of male meat began to slide in and out of her.

'Damn right, I'm going to fuck you, you hot bitch,' he growled aggressively.

A shiver of delight made the woman tremble at his words, his tone. Submissive side overtaking her, she dropped her elbows to the floor, head pressed to her arms. Behind, her pelvis tilted slightly as the man started thrusting against her. Hands tightly gripped her hips, pulling her back against each hard thrust he drove into her clutching steaming depths, over and over.

The small weather studio resounded with the sounds of crashing bodies, crotches impacting as the woman panted and groaned, the savagely fucking man grunting as he plunged into his bitch. It was a hard, vigorous mounting; nothing tender, soft or gentle. It was a primal rutting, a man seeking his climax, racing headlong towards it.

Gripping her hips tighter, Neil banged the moaning Scottish woman harder and harder. Beneath him the blonde was in heaven, pushing back, driving the jabbing prong deeper into her body. Convulsing, her walls sucked hungrily at him, urging him on, demanding more.

So good, Carol thought, her mind a fog of lust and need. Every fuck thrust made her entire body judder, her frame rocked with the brutal impacts. So good!

Despite his youth the young producer couldn't last long, not with the prolonged excitement of the morning, the extreme arousal of everything they had done, what he was experiencing right now: the sucking, milking grip of Carol Kirkwood's cunt wrapped around his dick.

'Ooh! Oh, Carol. I'm going to...'

Grip tightening even further, he held her wide hips and pulled her back hard even as he jammed himself forward, going as deep as he could get. Body shuddering, balls tightening, his cock throbbing and aching, he came.

Thick ropes of his spunk, built up over the morning, surged forth. Pulse after pulse of his semen poured into the climaxing woman, her creaming cunt drawing it from him. Convulsions running along her cuntal walls, her body eagerly drank the pearly jizz deep into her womb, trying to plant his seed.

Fucking still, Neil kept plunging in and out of her clutching insides. Determined to eek every iota of pleasure he wouldn't stop. Obscene sounds came from their conjoined bodies as his spunk mixed with her girl cum. Every time he withdrew to just the tip, his rod was covered in a thickening baste of Carol's feminine honey. Driving back in, pulling back out, more of the pungent gunk coated him, a rime forming around the base, matting his pubes to his body.

Both of them lost track of time. Their world condensed to just their rutting bodies, the sticky wet heat fusing them together. To each of them their mutual orgasms seemed to last far longer than the actual fuck. Nevertheless, they were satiated; tired, hot and sweaty but satisfied.

With an obscene squelch Neil's cock, still thick, still hard, slid from Carol's twitching snatch. Crumbling to the ground, he lay next to her as she crashed to the floor, his spunk pooled deep inside her throbbing womanhood, planted well.

Despite the intensity of the fuck, it had not lasted long, giving the pair some minutes to regroup before they went back on air. Still, it was a close run thing and Carol had barely made herself presentable before she was live to the nation again.

7:46 am

'...and with this front bringing all this rain southwards...'

Britain's favourite weather girl stands before the camera. Warm smile on her beautiful face, she delivers the forecast for the watching audience in her usual cheery manner. Unknown to the viewing public, Carol Kirkwood stands there with her black satin knickers stretched between her ankles. The gusset is stained with the copious juices of her creamy cunt.

From that same snatch a thick rivulet of pearly white semen leaks out. Running down her leg, it tickles in its warm wake. As the Scottish presenter continues to talk she can feel that spunk dripping from her leg to splatter into her underwear, mixing with her own essence.

Behind the camera her producer stands naked from the waist down. Sticking out from his groin is his cock. Occasionally jouncing, the girthy rod is shiny and tacky with the mixed juices from their recent coupling.

'...so wrap up warm, it's going to be wet and blowy out there.'

The moment the light to the control centre was off, the camera deactivated, Ms Kirkwood turned to the half nude executive. Moving from behind the camera, he crossed the studio to stand before her, semi hard prick leading the way.

'You made a mess on my dick,' he said, his tone serious even as he waved his privates at her. 'I think you had better clean it up.' Placing a hand atop her head, he pushed, forcing the sultry blonde to her knees.

Offering no resistance she complied. Down on her knees she opened her mouth and waited. She didn't have to wait long. Stepping closer, the man pushed the head of his organ into her mouth, letting it rest on her warm tongue, her breath adding more heat with each ragged inhalation.

'Go on, Ms Kirkwood. Suck my cock clean.'

For a moment the Scot just flexed her tongue, jiggling the semi hard member. Kneeling there, the scent of her own satisfied cunt rose from the shaft, filtering into her nostrils. All over her tongue, her taste buds fired as she sampled her own flavour. My own pussy cream.

Looking up into the man's blazing gaze, she closed her lips, enwrapping around the hot and throbbing shaft. Cheeks concaving, she gently began to suck the man off. A burst of flavour detonated against her senses as her mouth closed around the sticky prick, the insides of her cheeks conforming to the sticky wicket.

Delicious, she thought. I do so enjoy my own cum.

Head moving under the pressure from the hand atop it, Ms Kirkwood slowly slid her lips along the shaft. Sloppy cunt cream gathered at her lips, forcing her to flick her tongue out, running it around to gather up the mess. Disappearing back into her mouth, she savoured the mixed spice of their mutual release before swallowing the flavoursome concoction.

Groaning at the sensation of Carol Kirkwood licking and sucking his dirty cock clean, Mr Hearst watched on. She's so hot. It feels so good, and looks so disgusting, he thought as he pulled her mouth further down his rod, forcing her to take him further into her mouth.

'That's it, Ms Kirkwood. Clean that cock. You made it dirty, you covered it with your cum, so now you get to clean it.'

For several minutes that's exactly what Carol did. Progressing further down the shaft she washed it with her salvia, cleansing it of semen and her own womanly honey. Her sucking mouth was full of her own taste and she savoured it.

This is what I want. This is what I need, she thought, the almost polished prick brushed against her cheek as her tongue chased the last dregs of the creamy rind she had left around the base.

Leaning back, she looked up at her boss. 'Is that sufficient, sir?' She couldn't help breaking out into a giant grin.

'Yes, Carol,' he laughed, 'Perfect.'

8:00 am

'...will keep you updated throughout.'

'Carol, I need to pop out to my car. I'll be back before the next forecast,' the TV producer said pulling on his trousers and shoes before exiting the studio.

Mentally shrugging her shoulders, the presenter turned to the weather charts she had ignored due to the mornings more pleasant distractions.

8:14 am

Breathing heavily, Mr Hearst rushed back into the studio, a small bag in hand. Immediately he glanced to the lights on the wall. They remained off. Checking a nearby monitor he saw that BBC Breakfast was in the middle of an interview with some politician.

'Good, we've still got a few minutes,' he said, turning his attention to Ms Kirkwood where she sat at a small desk, forecast graphics displayed on a computer.

Hearing the voice, the Scot looked up from her screen. 'Time for what? I'll be on the air in just a few minutes.'

'Uh huh,' he muttered, discarding her concerns. 'Pull your knickers down,' the young man commanded.

A frisson of exhilaration ran down the woman's spine at his tone, his demeanour having slowly transformed into one of dominance. Doing as she was told, Carol stood from her seat, raised her dress and pulled her underwear down to her knees. Standing there, she awaited his next command.

'Good.' Opening the bag he held, Mr Hearst retrieved a vibrator. Ignoring the woman's curious gaze he pulled it from its box. Opening another smaller package he retrieved some AA-sized batteries and put them in the sex toy. Striding to the waiting blonde, he held the toy up for her to see.

Instantly Carol recognised what it was, or at least what it closely resembled. It very much looked like a Rampant Rabbit, sans the ears. It was also a bit thicker than standard. Having owned a couple herself she recognised the general shape of it, the transparent section holding massage beads, and knew the tip would rotate when activated. Her fanny quivered with anticipation.