Rox News

[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE]

[All characters and events are fictional; any similarities to actual people or events is coincidental. No harm is intended for any person or organization.]

Like all great projects since antiquity, this project began in the steam room of a country club. I had been assigned the task of infiltrating Rox News. Infiltrate "at any cost" I might add. But how? Well, the answer sat down across from me in the sauna of my club. I am not gay (really, I promise), but this guy was like 6 foot 6 inches of solid muscle. I was the proud father of three, married eleven years, 5 of them happily, but even my own middle leg was starting to salute him. Now, a guy with THAT kind of charm was just the kind I needed for this task.

I confronted Peter (no, I'm not making that up) after the sauna, trying to offer the job without sounding like I just dug his broad shoulders. He glared at me, so I showed him my official party ID and the letter that told me to hire someone. He laughed about the project and said it was impossible. "I mean, I'm no expert, but that building is 100% secure, those studios are 100% monitored, and the talent you allude to are never ever alone. So even if I was the Amazing Kreskin, I couldn't say hello, let alone 'drill them'...and that's assuming they were interested."

He put a big paw on my shoulder and slapped me warmly, though it almost knocked me over. Then he left. I ran after him..."look, I'm no expert either, but: a-the talent you speak of, the infobabes, are human, and they are alone at lots of times. They don't have chaperones walking with them inside that secure building. And the building isn't 100% airtight either: here, look." I handed him a very authentic looking Rox News badge. "Oh, it's real alright. I knew that going to New York and trying to break in was impossible, so I grabbed $10,000 and found an affiliate, welcome at their Christmas party, as they all are. So, how does this impossible task sound now, especially with $50,000 upon completion?" He smiled, looked at the pass, looked at me, and slapped me on the back again, this time really knocking me over.

We got our signals straight. He would have a briefcase that contained Christmas type of candies and liquor gifts. The case had a camera that was a simple on off affair. He was tasked with getting the infobabes alone and, hopefully, having his way with them. I gave him press photos of them to ID, which was fortunate. He never watched Rox News and didn't know any of them. Until now, that is.

I watched from across the street as he entered the Manhattan headquarters. The usual wand went over him and the attaché case, which he had to open. The guard was given a bottle of liquor, whereupon he waved Pete into the building. Cool!

The headquarters was a hive of activity, even with this being the Christmas party time. What was great was that internal guards were absent and Pete could walk safely, his pass swinging freely on his lapel. He noticed Alisyn from one of the pictures and nonchalantly followed her down to her office. She turned around, surprised at his presence but re-assured by that pass (thank God!) He dredged up an introduction, "my name is Peter J., from your Chicago affiliate." She mentioned the particular station, which he didn't know but said "yes, YES!" , smartly. He noticed a picture of Alisyn's family and said what a handsome looking family.

She said, in a Christmas party eggnog drunken mumble, "a perfect picture, sure, but numb-nuts there assumed his little Alisyn is just going to keep pulling down the big money while he's a house husband." Pete saw his opening and grabbed for it. He asked if her hubby at least provided her with good loving. She laughed derisively; "look at this figure; I have to work out with those other wenches hours every day to keep these legs shapely, these tits thrusting out (she cupped her wonderfully jutting tits; motherhood certainly helped also). And then when I drag my tight, perfect little behind home, it's always HIM that has a headache or can't perform. So why am I so fucking faithful?"

Pete handed her a Napoleon Brandy from his briefcase. "Shall we drink to marital freedom?" he said. Alisyn grabbed the bottle, used her expensive nails to cut thru the neck wrapper and popped it open. To Pete's shock and delight, she chug-a-lugged ¼ of the expensive liquor, put it down, and wiped her mouth on her expensive chiffon blouse. She noticed that Peter was a "hunk" finally. She put her hands on his huge biceps that were straining, almost bursting, to get out of the polo shirt-- whose sleeves could barely contain them.

He took that as the cue he needed; he grabbed that petite infobabe and supermom in his powerful arms and planted a solid kiss on her lips. She pulled free, stared at him, smiled, straightened his hair, and continued the kiss. He broke the kiss to close the louvers on her windows and locked the door. His briefcase was already running. As he walked back to her, she drunkenly pushed the news bulletins and her family portraits off the desk. She sat on the edge of the desk, expecting him to attend her. That he did, unzipping her skirt, yanking the blouse over her head. He even re-set her hair after the blouse mussed it all up. He took off his polo shirt, then down came his gabardine slacks. He flexed his bulging biceps, which made her literally clap and jump for joy.

She held out her arms, saying, "oh, baby, mommy wants a little. It's been so fucking long. Just be careful; the infobabes have been in the gym together for so many hours that we actually synchronized our cycles, and we're all peaking this week. So, nothing inside me, ok? I have enough problems to deal with without another rugrat to have to take care of." Pete, who smartly decided to say little during this assignment, just nodded. Pushing the infobabe back on her desk, he dragged her by her shapely legs closer to him. Alisyn moaned in pleasure as his giant eleven inch cock slid across the slavering lips of her labia. She said, "that's too much, too much." She put it safely inside her and pushed herself to him, forcing him further inside.

Peter knew an opportunity when he saw one. Holding Alisyn by her slender ankles, he plunged all the way in, making her recoil from his size. He pulled out, only to push it back in, all the way to her cervix. He hit a slow rhythm and got her close. She got taut and said she was close, but he had to pull out.

He said ok, just tell him when.

She said "soon, oh God!"

That put HIM close and he said, "I've gotta pull out now, or it's going to be never!"

She said, "no, wait till I cum, I'm so close..oh, oh, OH!" With that, she locked her ankles tight against him, and then shook like an earthquake. Meanwhile, he had given her fair warning. She made her choice, so he had no option but to join her. Simultaneous with her orgasm, Pete splashed, gushed, and then sent a torrential downpour of his very potent baby batter deep deep DEEP inside Alisyn's unprotected fertile vagina. The thought of knocking up this leggy temptress was overwhelming and his ejaculation just kept happening.

They finally ended their brief voyage to heaven. He collapsed, still inside her, and kissed this frustrated, oversexed mother. If ever there was a real MILF in this world, she was it and had just proven it! Now, he re-dressed himself, kissed her lips as she lay splayed out on her huge desk. He whispered to her, "you were great; have my baby" as she lay in drunken, fucked out stupor. He carefully left, closing the door for privacy behind him.

He followed the floor plan they gave him at the entrance and found Ainsley's office. To his relief, she was there, but she was regaling her co-workers about one of her best stories (she is a journalist, after all.) He looked and saw her seated on her ergonomic desk chair, her fabulous legs folded. Geez, he thought! What fucking legs! His enormous babymaker was getting hard, which might be a problem, what with him in the common hallway.

He hid in an alcove until, laughing and playfully messing around, her entourage left her office. Once they were clear, he came into her office, putting on the briefcase camera again. He introduced himself. Ainsley asked what was his station in Chicago? Fortunately, he remembered the station ID from Alisyn and repeated it. Whew, that was close! Ainsley, as was her wont, would push her desk back and flamboyantly put her legs on her desk.

Pete said, "excuse my boldness, but you have got to have the best damn legs in this business...you are fucking HOT!" (ok, it was a risk, but he couldn't wait months for them to fall in love...) She jumped to her feet, rushed to the door. (oh damn...) She closed the louvers on the window, and clicked the door locked. He couldn't believe his luck! She wiggled up to him, placing her hands firmly on his biceps bulging out the sleeves of that polo shirt.

She said, "my, my, they grow them big, and hard, in Chicago!" He was stunned when she dropped her hand and squeezed his now 9 inch semi-hard cock. As she held it, he willed it to assume its full size and power, and it did! She stopped staring into his eyes and looked at what "God had wrought", Pete's massive love log. She dropped to her famous lovely knees and took it into her mouth. She started servicing him, her sparkling eyes looking up at her new god with submission. As the massive cockhead started to swell, he grabbed her by the hair and stood her up. He wiped her mouth with his hand, and kissed her firmly. Her tongue lapped at his teeth as they made out. He pulled her body, which was iron firm from those hours of workouts, to him. What a slim waist, what a perfect behind. She lacked the boobs of Alisyn, but after all, Alisyn had given birth.

He thought to himself that he'd be furthering Ainsley's career by improving her jugs if he managed to get her pregnant, also.

Once again, a desk was cleared, only this time more orderly, with Ainsley carefully transferring her notes in good order to the cadenza behind her desk. She came to the front of the desk and beckoned him. He kissed her hard and deep, and put his powerful hands around her slender waist, lifting her above him. He proceeded to lift and lower her repeatedly, showing his strength, before laying her out on the desk. She was in a dress, making the single long zipper undressing a breeze. Her shoes went over the side as she slipped them off. Her bra was a one button front affair, so he did the honors. Her panties were the last item, and he slipped them down her tight bum, up her silky smooth bikini waxed legs (those fucking legs! God!) and over her lovely impeccably pedicured feet. He kissed the top of her right foot.

Carefully taking off his clothes (he'd have to do that a few times, after all) he gave her the obligatory double biceps pose to get her engines running. Sure enough, Ainsley clapped in appreciation of his "hunkiness" and drew her knees up in anticipation. He scampered onto the desk and took her hand, putting it on his cock, hoping that she would do the honors. She took the cue and put it at the entrance, then used it as a fucktoy, extending it inside her to probe for and tickle her g-spot. She moaned in ecstasy, and then lifted her famous legs, prodding him forward with her heels, like a good rider does. He didn't have to be asked twice and entered her manfully, hard and deep. She immediately tensed up, shook and shook, having her 1st orgasm. She grabbed his head firmly and kissed him so hard she almost knocked his caps off. He took it from there and started pile driving her. Her gym toned perfect body gave as much as it got, and they were pounding that desk into driftwood. He looked around, not seeing a single family portrait. He asked if she was "safe".

She said, "don't worry about that...I want you, I order you to cum deep inside me. Show me that you really are the man you think you are..fuck your sperm inside me and make me your woman, if you ARE man enough!"

Oh, a challenge! Pete said, "man enough?!? Feel that bitch!" He flexed his enormous right bicep, a 24 inch monument to his manhood and pure virility. His cock joined in too, eleven inches of the finest pale snake in the land. Mounting Ainsley, a woman so breathtaking that she stood out even in the infobabe capital of the world, he let his heavy baby-maker plop on the slavering lips of Ainsley's very fertile pussy. He sawed away, back and forth, generating her cumming before he even entered her.

As she gasped in orgasm, he plowed forward, rubbing her g-spot briefly as his huge tool was headed on the non-stop express train line to her cervix. He bumped up against it and let his sensitive cockhead bask in the warmth and welcome of that most beloved of places. As determined as he was to show this news goddess "who the boss is", he just had to vent his passion. He came forward and gave her a passionate kiss. She kissed back, if possible, with even more fervor. He did the in/out thing for six or seven minutes, which was all he could take before he had to cum. He snarled at her that he was going to cum inside her (he wasn't asking), unless she wanted him to stop altogether. With his swollen eleven inch member occupying every cubic inch of her pubic inches, and his heavy testes fully re-charged after the last fuck, he awaited her call.

Ainsley, her well known glamorous face perfection itself, had a tear in her eye...she said, "Jeez, you ARE quite a man, quite a stud...please keep going. I want to feel you inside me; I want to feel your huge sperm pipeline transfer your potent seed from those swollen balls into my receptive and fertile vagina. I barely know you but I would be proud to be pregnant by you, to give birth to the beautiful strong baby that would be our product. So do it, muscleman...get me pregnant...now!"

With that kind of invitation, any man would be ready to cum. Pete was no exception. Holding this most beautiful of women tightly in his powerful arms, his long probe positioned with its expanding slit pointed at her uterus, he grunted noisily. In the dead silence of the room, she could not only feel his enormous spend, but she thought she could actually HEAR it. It sounded just like the hissing sound of a cat or a snake as his powerful manly drain pipe was hosing her insides down. It took a full minute for him to finish making ten heavy spurts of his virile semen, consisting in record levels of potent baby-making sperm. She could consider herself well "seeded." He stayed inside her long enough to have another long passionate kiss. Exhausted, he knew he had two more "babes" to bed, so he took leave of Ainsley, leaving her semi-conscious on the desk.

Next up was Megyn. He had heard that she was different; a maverick, a wildcard. Closing up to her office, he saw a big entourage and slipped into the darkened empty office across the aisle. In her office, Megyn was regaling her entourage of toadies about one of her old legal cases. She joked full up adult, with really graphic Vegas type jibes. Finally the bull session broke up, the camp followers streaming out in search of the next on-air star to brownnose. Pete saw his opening and went in. Megyn had the sexiest feet he had ever seen; he knew that, because she had her feet on the desk, her prohibitive Italian pumps on the floor by the desk. She said nothing, preferring to puff on a Central American cigar. With complete audacity, Pete closed her louvers and the door. He turned back to her, approached, picked up an impeccably pedicured left foot and gave it a big kiss.

Megyn finally took the cigar out. She said, "Coming in here, doing that, you'd better be an old high school friend or a long lost relative. If you're that Chippendale dancer I ordered for my birthday, that was 3 months ago."

Throwing caution to the winds, Pete took off his shirt, threw it onto a chair, picked up that piece-of-ass attorney, and planted a seismic kiss on her. He braced himself for the reaction. Megyn said,"If you're here to play 'kiss and tell', may I suggest calling up your grandma. Here at Rox we only report on action—like this."

She pulled on his belt, undid his slacks, and pushed the whole thing down, revealing his hardening shaft. For once, she was speechless. Paying the highest compliment anyone could give him; she fell to her knees and paid tribute to his monstrous rendition of the Washington Monument. Her lips and hands were like a symphony. His eyes fell closed, but he snapped out of it. He reluctantly pulled her off and up to him.

He didn't want to kiss her given where she just came from, but she was gorgeous and he did have the challenge of 'bagging' all of the babes. So Peter gave Megyn a sloppy smooch just as his hands did their best to undress that news goddess. He was amazed that with a few clicks and zips, she was attired in the nicest birthday suit he'd ever seen. She was a 'take charge' type and controlled the action totally. She told him to clear her desk...neatly. Pete put everything in neat piles on the credenza against the wall. Then she ordered him to come to her. Then she ordered him to get on the desk on his back. He did, though not with gymnastic grace. She told him to close his eyes; he did. Then he heard a creaking of the chair as she stepped on it. Then he felt her beautiful foot cross over him and have her poised to do him 'cowgirl' style.

His enormous erection was treated to the wettest, hottest, home that a cock was ever welcomed in. Her muscles in there were nimble and powerful; she said, "do you feel that?" causing him to wince in pain. Megyn said, "you can fuck with me, but don't fuck with me." Oddly enough, that made perfect sense. As she started her pumping motion, Pete let his imagination go and he transported both of them to a beach on, say, the Grand Bahamas.

He came back to reality as she slapped him, asking him why he was 'phoning it in'. Oops! Pete grabbed her rock solid bum (tennis?) and started meeting her thrusts with even more powerful thrusts of his own. The audible slap slap of their hot bodies was audible; fortunately, the Christmas parties and late hour had all adjacent offices empty. He asked her if he should pull out; was she on the pill?

She said, "Never ask a compound question; first thing we learn in procedures 101. For your information, the respective answers are no, and none of our business. Now let's finish this project like we really did our best. On three: one, two, threeeeeeee!" With that, for the first time, she emoted, screaming a muffled shriek while kissing him. Pete for his part had his big hands around her solid behind, holding tight, as he pumped every spare baby-starter in a geyser rivaling 'old faithful', a liquid highway joining him and that infobabe in the most intimate way possible. Later he'd think back to the time he went 'vroom in her womb'.

Exhausted, she collapsed and kissed him, then sagged, spent, on his shoulder. He put his arms around this on-air nymph, marveling at her slender waist and those fabulous legs. He laughed to himself; thousands of guys had watched her show just for the chance to see the wide pan shots, with her fantastic legs, gleaming from a fresh bikini wax job. Even Pete admitted to himself that he never remembered a single word that she reported; he too was just admiring her short skirts and Italian pumps. Thank goodness for 'sweeps month' and the ratings race.

Pete sat up, picked up that gorgeous lawyer, and lovingly put her on her couch, covering her with a blanket. He quickly dressed and headed out for the last challenge confronting him.

He looked on his chart for the last infobabe's office, Gretchen. She was slightly different than the others. Whereas Ainsley was a young model type, Alisyn was like the MILF next door, the soccer mom you'd like to do, and Megyn was the type of liberated woman that could be so exciting, Gretchen was like the wife of the deacon, a socialite, someone who might be hot looking but who had position. For Pete, this was his last challenge and the toughest. He got to her office and no one was there. He waited inside patiently for 15 minutes when she appeared with a female protégé from public relations.