4 comments/ 28360 views/ 5 favorites Network TEN Late News By: DemisOSprey Author's Note: The world, sadly, seems to be full of those who have trouble discerning the difference between entertainment and reality, unfortunately probably exacerbated by the current spate of reality being passed off as entertainment, karaoke, Survivor, Big Brother, The Biggest Loser and the like. While it is not my intent to debate the values of such stuff here, as I expect I will already cause more than enough annoyance with the following notes, what I would like to stress is that, just because you read it on the 'Net or hear it somewhere else in the media, it is not necessarily true and you should verify the truth in a matter before you rely on the information provided as fact. Despite maybe offending or annoying some, sadly once more, I consider it necessary to do this, as it seems there are those who simply refuse to understand that a story of fantasy could be exactly just that. I am going to make it really easy to verify the facts of this matter, so that there can be NO misunderstanding and NO mistakes, by providing the following discourse. Do NOT, when reading this tale, make the mistake of considering it to be anything other than complete and utter fantasy. It has not ever happened, it probably could not ever happen, it most likely will not ever happen! Unless I was actually to meet the beautiful, intelligent woman who I chose to be the subject of, and my partner in, this wistful tale of forlorn wishes, and discover somehow that this was indeed her fantasy as well. Unlikely, of course, for I suspect I'd never be quite so bold as I have been here, in order to initiate the events described. The only chance of that, I suspect, would be if she were to stumble across this tale by accident and come looking for me. Were that to transpire, there's a greater chance that she will be accompanied by a tribe of lawyers and cooking pots full of defamation litigation than her own overweaning lust for sins of the flesh with me. Oral ministrations, and the rest, such as are detailed here, are more likely to be replaced by said tribe of lawyers chewing me up and spitting me out. There may be other occasions when I do not really care whether others may speculate about whether some tale or other including a Celebrity or Public person has an element or an entirety of truth. This is NOT one of those occasions. There is NO truth here! In fact, so concerned was I over such reactions that I considered not submitting this specific story at all, simply keeping it for myself. But that is not the essence of literary effort nor the raison d'etre of a site such as Literotica, is it? The desire and the implicit obligation to share swayed me and resulted in the format for the story, complete with these notes, on which I finally settled. For anyone annoyed with my decision, I apologise. You should, and must, know that Sandra Sully, the subject of this fantastic and ephemeral tale, to the complete best of my knowledge, is a consummate professional, a brilliant personality by all accounts, on-air and off, intelligent, compassionate, hard-working and totally just as she appears to anyone who meets her in her professional or private life. Anything within this tale which is compatible with that, and only with that, could be considered to be true but only so far as they match completely. The rest, as usual, is purely the subject of my own fevered imaginings, not a very safe basis for truth. Similarly, if by some quirk of fate or by accident, I have actually reproduced actual practices or procedures utilised in the broadcast of News bulletins by Network Ten Australia, rest assured that it was not from personal experience but, once again, imagination only or, at best, observation, from having watched Sandra's broadcasts on many occasions. Don't make the mistake of thinking that I actually know about any of that stuff and, thereby, deduce that any of the rest of it could therefore be true. It isn't! If anyone was to try to reproduce any of this and claim it as fact, that person would be opening themselves to intense scrutiny by the Media regulator within their own country or to ridicule by such monitoring programs as the ABC's Media Watch in Australia, this tale's country of origin. If the beautiful, intelligent Sandra does happen to read this, I would ask of her only that she stop to consider that, by transforming my fantasy from the realm of the mind to the realm of the Internet, I have sincerely meant her no harm and no distress. I unreservedly apologise for any offense she may find among these words but hope that she might find none. Sandra, if you do read this, please just consider that it was me simply worshipping at the altar of a Late Night News Goddess. As a more general note, coarser terminologies have been used within the story to suit the nature of this forum but it can just as easily be read substituting more generally acceptable terminologies in their place and anyone should feel free to use their imaginations to do so. Anyone else should note that the rules of this forum explicitly state that the material belongs here, and only here, unless specific arrangements are entered into otherwise. Be advised now; my permission to publish this anywhere else will never be given and permission to publish here is absolutely conditional upon the main body of this tale NEVER being separated from this prefacing Author's Note and trailing Author's Reminder. If you cannot abide by that requirement, please DO NOT READ ON! Otherwise, please, feel free to read it and I hope there might be someone, apart from me, who finds enjoyment in it, especially if her name happened to be Sandra Sully. Yeah, I'd be brave and bold enough for her to read it, I reckon, and hope that she might find some delight in it as well! == "... to position, please. Five minutes to Air Time." came through the small earpiece I was wearing, necessary to be able to monitor the Running Order of the broadcast. If I was unable to do that, bringing a long-held fantasy of mine to fruition would embarass one of Australia's most professional news anchors, not to mention creating a firestorm of such controversy, the like of which had never been seen before, nor most likely ever would be again. I wasn't sure whether a criminal charge existed to cover what I was going to do but, if this was discovered while it was in progress, I was sure that the authorities would find one. I huddled further into the corner of the space under the newsdesk, where I was concealed, as I heard the sound of a lady's high-heeled shoes crossing the room toward me. I didn't want her to realise too early that I was there, that I had actually gone through with the fantasy of which I had told her. We'd both been alone in the Conference Room at the studios, waiting for everyone else to arrive at the full Late News team meeting, the beautiful, blonde newsreader, regular and respected anchor of the Network Ten Late News, and I. We didn't know each other well, only by sight around the studios, enough to acknowledge each other in passing with a nod, a smile and a quick greeting. But both of us arriving early for the meeting, we'd engaged in some business small-talk, rather than sit together in uncomfortable silence. Apart from being extremely competent and professional, she'd always struck me as quiet and reserved, but basically friendly as well, and I had the impression that underneath she concealed an element of mischievious humour that she kept pretty tightly controlled. She was also intelligent, stylish, slender and very beautiful, a woman on whom I had long had a crush and whom it had been a tremendous thrill to meet when I had joined her production team a few months before. All these qualities were confirmed, particularly her friendliness and her mischievious humour, as we chatted alone while we waited. We'd been talking about interview-style shows, such as Parkinson and Andrew Denton's Enough Rope, and discussing how hosts always seemed to manage to get guests to open up and reveal unexpected, intimate aspects of themselves that they might rather have kept hidden. In the course of that discussion, we'd speculated on the types of things that no host would be able to prise from their guests and I'd mentioned sexual fantasies. Laughing and with a twinkle in her eyes, she'd asked "And if I were to interview you, what would yours be?". I'd laughed back and responded that being interviewed by her would be a great start but, for more, if she told me hers, I'd tell her mine. Her giggled reply was that a lady would never tell. As I had fancied her for a very long time but also had a huge amount of respect for her, holding her in high professional esteem, I decided to let her off that hook and didn't press her for a more explicit answer. But I had truly long held the fantasy to be positioned under the newsdesk, giving her cunnilingus, while she read the Late News bulletin and, throwing caution to the winds, was unable to resist telling her, since the opportunity had so obviously presented itself. Definitely shocked at my boldness, she sort of spluttered, then laughed and commented that it was a fantasy for sure, one that nobody would ever be brave enough to act upon. Laughing with her, I explained that as my exact definition of a fantasy but then, feeling challenged by her confidence that it would never occur, got more serious and told her that she might be surprised. She laughed out loud, a beautiful bell-like sound, and, paraphrasing her earlier comment, told me directly that she thought I would never ever act upon it. With a twinkle in my eye and a smile on my lips, I warned her, mock seriously, that she should never challenge any man in such a manner. I went on to tell her that, professionally, I had never seen her get flustered nor lose her cool on air and that it would fascinate me to see if she could hold that professional demeanour while I was licking between her legs and tickling her clit with my tongue. I was also curious to see whether I could actually make her cum in such a risky, stressful situation and, if so, how many times in a half-hour newscast. Realising that I had probably gone way too far, I shut up and watched her, the smile still on my face but unsure how she might react. She stared back at me, the traces of a smile still on her face but giving away nothing of her thoughts. At last, she started to reply but, right then, the first of the other team members, walked through the door and she shut her mouth again immediately. As the other team members straggled into the room, she smiled at me and tilted her head slightly, as if apologising for the moment passing and being unable to respond. She could have dropped me right into the biggest pile of shit with the management that day, if she'd wanted, as it certainly could have been considered disrespectful, maybe even sexual harassment, to make such a suggestion to a female on-air personality. As she is one of the network's headliners and a highly-valued commodity, a snowflake in hell would have stood a better chance of coming out the other end with job and life intact than I would have, if a pissing match were to develop over the matter. My job was within pre-production of the newscasts, proofreading and editing story copy, perhaps a linguist or smith of words so to speak, far more easily replaceable than a high-profile on-screen personality. I am pragmatic and would be under no illusion about my chances in such a situation, but neither do I award anyone submissive deference at any time, especially purely based upon their job. Accordingly, my experience has quite often been that I need to seek alternate employment, when I speak up rather than keep my mouth shut. This might have been just one more of those times. Rather than taking any such action, though, she did not mention the conversation again, either to me or to anyone else. Strangely though, whenever she saw me again, her smile was just that little bit broader, friendlier and, I thought, cheekier. From that day on, too, she always greeted me by name. I'm not sure exactly when I completely firmed up my intention to bring that fantasy to reality but here I was, underneath the newsdesk, watching the lower half of her body as she placed her running sheets on the desk, moved to the chair and, running both her hands down over her trim backside to hold her skirt smooth beneath herself, sat down on it just a metre or so away from me. She swivelled the chair ninety degrees to the left, bringing herself into position for her introductory camera shots. I had seen her earlier in the evening and knew that her outfit for the night's broadcast suited my plans perfectly. She was wearing a light grey skirt, just longer than knee-length and of a full line rather than narrow, with a matching sleeveless vest-style jacket, a burgundy silk blouse and matching grey open-style shoes with no stockings. As usual, fashionable and stylish, she looked a treat, as beautiful a sight as I'd ever seen. If she'd been wearing trousers, as she did sometimes, or a narrower, form-fitting skirt such as she'd worn for a regularly-run network ID clip, it would have been impossible for me to have gained easy access to the area of her body upon which I wished to concentrate without my having to wriggle her lower clothing off completely, so much movement immediately obvious to anyone watching. It would also have been a problem with camerashot requirements, as the initial introductory shots and the final shots of the newscast showed her almost full-length, sitting on the chair facing Camera 2, located at one side of the newsdesk. Contrary to the old rumour of news anchors being naked below the line of the newsdesk, immortalised by the Pickering calendar caricature of Anne Fulwood, Network Ten's running order would not permit that, as much as it would have suited my plans. The location of Camera 2 also meant that there was a very slim chance that some part of me under the desk might be noticeable. To minimise that chance, I was clothed completely in black, hoping I'd blend into the shadow. I had also pushed myself into the corner closest to the secondary Camera 2, where I should be well out of shot. At that time, the Network News set, configured for the Late News, consisted of the large comfortable chair, on which she was sitting, a large, wide, deep desk at which three newsreaders could sit side-by-side easily, as they did for the prime-time News, giving me plenty of room, and both cameras. The primary Camera 1, used for almost the entire broadcast, was positioned directly in front of the desk, facing the studio Network logo backdrop. I was concealed, out of shot from that direction, by the newsdesk's floor-length modesty screen. The broadcast team, those involved on the set, took all communications, including with the anchor, through their "cans", large sound-insulated earmuff-style headphones, which should prevent them from hearing any minor sounds that I might make. I could only envisage making noise if she reacted adversely to my presence beneath the newsdesk, in which case I suspected the noise would be the least of my concerns. Of more concern would be the sensitive microphones attached to the lapel of the her burgundy silk blouse. These were very powerful but were oriented toward her mouth for vocal pick-up and, if I was very quiet about what I was doing, they should only pick up sounds she made, perhaps a problem in itself if she were to get carried away by sensation. Anyway, I knew the Control Room could close her mikes whenever it wasn't expecting her to be broadcasting. Being pre-production and not part of the on-set broadcast team, I would not be missed if absent, even though I occasionally hung about to watch our broadcasts. No part of the newscast would be threatened if I wasn't there, no questions would be asked about where I was if they didn't see me, nor would anyone else have any reason to think that I was about to do what would happen beneath the newsdesk. She sat, preparing to broadcast a teaser announcement for tonight's show, a brief rundown of the major news headlines that night, given facing Camera 2. She would also make her introduction to the main broadcast from that position, before she swivelled the chair and rolled her legs under the desk to give the full bulletin, the first time she would be safely in position for me to reach her. It would be that instant, as her legs moved beneath the desk, just before the first news story went live to air, that I'd slide my hands up the outside of her legs beneath the hem of her skirt and she must immediately realise someone was under there. I wanted a few seconds for her to gather herself, if she could, while the News director changed shots, covered by a Ten Late News graphic, before the nation's viewers saw her face again on their sets at home. I hoped she'd remember our discussion, realise it was me and that her professionalism would kick in, holding her together sufficiently to continue with the broadcast. Regardless, we would both know soon enough as, through my earpiece, I heard her say "Next, on Ten news ..." and I rechecked my position, readying myself as she finished "... stay on Ten". I took several relaxing deep breaths, as I listened to the chatter on the earpiece, while the broadcast team waited for the final credits of the previous show to complete. As the countdown to Air Time was made, I could also hear the Late News musical theme playing and saw her wriggle her bum, looking for a more comfortable position, just before she started. "Hello, welcome to Ten's Late News, I'm Sandra Sully. In the News tonight on Ten ..." As Sandra finished her introduction, I moved myself into position, both arms ready. I saw her swivel the chair and lock it into position at the centre of the newsdesk. As planned, I slid both my hands up the outside of her legs, high up beneath her skirt, where I slipped them onto the front of her thighs. I felt her startle slightly at my touch but then relax again as the Director's "Go!" emanated from the earpieces of the entire team. Sandra began to read the first story and I waited, stroking her thighs gently, until she finished reading, when the Director would throw to the first videotaped report and Sandra would be out of shot for a minute or so. At that instant, I slipped both hands between her legs and, with both palms flat against her inner thighs, applied gentle but insistent pressure to move them apart. After a moment's hesitation, during which there was slight resistance to my spreading her legs, though no positive pressure to force them together, she let me move her knees to the extreme edges of the chair, allowing me to stroke the insides of her thighs. I continued to gently tickle up and down her inner thighs while she read the second story, at the end of which I moved one hand up to her knickers. I positioned my thumb on the silken material of her knickers, massaging her through the silk, feeling for and rotating my thumb around her clit, before feeling my way down her knickers following the line of her slit. Sandra wriggled a little, briefly, as she felt my thumb stroking the lips of her pussy but held herself still again as she began to read the third news story. I massaged my way back toward her clit, forcing the silken cloth of her knickers within the moistening slit of her pussy, feeling increased heat beginning to build there. My thumb rested on her clit once more and I massaged around it, my fingers stroking the smooth, firm skin of her lower stomach above the elastic of her knickers. As I did so, through my earpiece, I listened carefully to the sound of Sandra's voice as she read and was relieved to hear that, so far, she was giving no indication of anything out of the ordinary occurring. Network TEN Late News Reassured by that, I slipped my fingers, one by one, under the elastic of her knickers, as I continued the gentle pressure of my thumb on and around her stiffening clit. As my fingers slid down inside the elastic of Sandra's knickers, into her soft, manicured and neatly trimmed pubic bush, she finished reading once more and I felt her slide her bum forward slightly, arching her pelvis upward a little. Encouraged, I rewarded Sandra's helpfulness with a few soft, playful flicks of my thumb on her hard clit, delighted by her rocking against my thumb a little in response. Tugging the elastic at the top of her knickers gently, I invited her to slide the lower part of her body even further forward which she did immediately. While her knickers were pulled away from her body, I slipped my thumb through the leg hole and applied it directly to her naked clit. I heard Sandra's breath catch, a tiny tremor went through her body and then, right on cue, she launched into the fourth news story, her voice as steady as ever. Sandra almost stumbled as I took my thumb off her clit and my hand out of her knickers but recovered instantaneously as she felt me bring my hands to start rolling the hem at the front of her skirt upward toward her waist, progressively uncovering more of her thighs and, finally, her burgundy silk knickers. At that point, I could not roll the skirt any higher without freeing the part she was sitting on. As she read, I started to roll the hem at the back of her skirt toward the seat squab, knowing that I'd need to lift her up momentarily to free it from beneath her arse and thighs. Sandra obviously anticipated this as well, lifting her spread thighs off the chair, with only a tiny effort evident in her voice as she finished reading the final words of her copy. I was amazed at her displayed talent but continued quickly rolling her skirt out of the way so she could put her thighs back onto the seat. As she did, Sandra bounced her bum up off the seat quickly, letting me swiftly slide the entire rolled material of her skirt up from underneath her. In this cramped area, I needed simple, easy access and I thought she would appreciate, as well, prevention of her own private wet spot on the back of her skirt if, as expected, the antics with my mouth and tongue brought forth a torrent of her cum. As the videotape report of that story ran, the Director cut in, "Sandra, mike safed. Do you have a problem? Is there anything wrong? Go ahead!" Sandra responded smoothly and quickly that there was no problem, she just could not yet find a comfortable position tonight and to forgive her if she wriggled some more trying but she'd attempt to restrict that to between shots. Man, this girl was good! She'd absolutely brilliantly covered any more movements we needed to make or most of those she herself might make involuntarily. The Director told her that was OK and continued straight on to cue her for the intro to the show's first commercial break of the night, which Sandra did immediately. As she finished and the Director cut to commercial, she lifted her bum quickly again, as she was expecting me to slip her silken knickers down too, I guessed. I wasn't quite ready for those, however, as my hands were moving to her feet to slip off her shoes. I knew her sexy silk knickers must be removed completely, to allow my head right between her thighs and my face into her pussy, but I didn't want to tangle them on her shoes, which therefore had to come off too. I put them to one side, well out of the way, facing out the way she'd need to slip them back on after the newscast. Sandra sat still, waiting patiently for me, until she felt my hands sliding back up her legs once more, running along the smooth skin of her calves, past the back of her knees, to her thighs. Timed impeccably, she lifted herself off the seat again, holding steady in the air, while I raced my palms over her hips and buttocks, gripped the elastic at the top of her knickers and tugged it down over the cheeks of her arse to the top of her thighs. When the pretty burgundy silk knickers had bunched, rolled and reached that point, Sandra settled her bare bum back onto the chair, brought her knees a little closer together and lifted her thighs higher, to make it easier to slide the knickers right down and off her legs. I gazed between her slightly parted thighs, as I did so, to catch my first sight of her cunt. It's a sight I love and that turns me on immensely, as the panties slide off, progressively revealing more of the pussy region. I wasn't disappointed. Everything I loved to see, showed. Sandra's fair, silky pubic hair, longish and fine, neatly trimmed and edged into the shape of a narrowed map of Tasmania, slid into view as the front of her knickers slipped over her hair-covered pelvic mound. Most of her knickers' silken material pulled toward me quickly but for the gusset, which caught between her thighs for a brief moment, the silk trapped within her pussy lips where I had tucked it, her increasing moistness holding it in place. It then came free and, in all its glory, Sandra's stunning cunt, uncovered before me, was displayed. It was beautiful, perfect in size, colour and shape, a natural work of art, but Sandra herself also tended it precisely as I would have. I have distinct preferences, which in her grooming she'd replicated exactly. The sight and her sweet scent filled me with pure lust, and my cock rose instantly, becoming throbbingly, achingly rock hard, trapped inside my pants. I longed to free it and offer it to her, but knew it to be impossible at that instant. Sandra hadn't completely shaved away her pubic hair from the entry to her cunt but had sculpted it neatly instead to surround her cunt lips, which were engorging with blood and swelling, initiating the opening process of her coral pink inner lips. Her stiffening clit, not huge but long enough to protrude from beneath its protective hood, peeked out at me cheekily. The pink lips below were folding out revealingly, opening easy, visible access to the sheath of her cunt. The neatly-trimmed and manicured pubic hair had been thinned enough for her entire genitals to show, but not so much that it looked like the bald, prepubescent cunt of a young girl, a look that does not appeal to me. Almost instantaneously, I had her knickers over her knees, then down her calves and ready to be slipped over her feet. I tore my gaze from Sandra's stunning cunt to do so, then reached back to slip them into my pocket. Neither Sandra nor I would be able to get them on her again, nor could she carry them back to her dressing-room. I could return them at a later time or maybe, if that opportunity never presented itself, I could simply keep them. The thought of keeping the sexy silken knickers which had been trapped within the gash of her pussy as it had become increasingly aroused, infusing them with her scent, was heady and almost overpowering. Sandra completely ready for me now, I opened her thighs wide once more, moving between them and sliding my hands along the smooth, soft skin at the inside again, placing the thumb of one hand on her clit and its fingers within her fair pubic hair and massaged both areas gently. As I slipped my other hand beneath her bum, positioning it within the crack between her cheeks, I used it to lift her slightly to improve the angle and slipped the thumb straight into her easily, between the distended, pink lips, its entire length up the hot, moist, tunnel of her cunt. Inside Sandra's cunt, I moved the thumb in a circular motion, stirring her moist fluids within her and swivelling it around the mound-like object I found there, part of the lip of her cervix, the gateway right into her womb. This rotation mirrored a like motion my other thumb was making around her clit, now hot and very hard. The heat was also building quickly within her cunt, its fluids beginning to flow freely past my thumb buried there, coating my hand and her own flowering cunt lips. I released even more, as I flipped the buried thumb up and out to coat her clit with the moisture on it. Sandra made tiny movements of her hips, almost imaginary fucking motions, as much as she was able to make here, pretty much little bounces in place. I slipped my thumb back between her pussy lips for it to be greeted with almost immediate squeezing by the muscles of her cunt. She was grasping it, then releasing it, and I realised that I could almost simply hold this position, continue doing only what little I was, and she could probably still bring herself to climax on her own using just her own muscles, with me purely useful for balance and leverage,. But that wasn't the fantasy, nor was it the deal that Sandra and I had made that afternoon we'd spoken of sexual fantasies, I now realised. She had accepted my deal silently, by not reporting me. She'd then simply waited for me to prove that I would, in fact, act. She had most likely expected that I'd never find the guts to go through with it but, now that I had, she was going to happily and enthusiastically join in and participate fully. She'd expect me to abide by the fantasy, precisely as I had explained it to her. At that moment, the commercial break finished and the Control Room counted down Sandra's cue-in. "Welcome back. In Melbourne today ..." I could hear a little more stress in Sandra's voice but she still sounded remarkably calm and in control. I felt it safe to progress further with my pleasuring of this beautiful, intelligent woman. As she finished speaking and the next videotape report began, I used the hand beneath her bum to wriggle her as close to the edge of the chair as I dared and slipped my shoulders beneath each of her thighs, so she could wrap her legs around me. As my face moved toward her steaming gash, Sandra pulled me in closer herself with her legs, using them to lock me in place, my face within her pussy, and to balance herself steady in the chair as I set to work with my fingers, hands, lips, mouth and tongue. Just before she started reading the next story, I settled my lips around her clit, sliding them down its short, stiff length, sucking back hard and then laving it with the tip of my tongue, swirling around it and flicking it gently. Simultaneously, I moved my thumb, still embedded within her cunt, as deep as I could reach and swirled it at her cervix, flicking it gently as well, as she clamped down hard with the muscles of her pussy. Right at that instant, the flexing muscles within the walls of her cunt involuntarily contracted suddenly three times. I could feel it distinctly under my chin, which had worked itself into the gash between her open thighs, above my thumb probing within her now hot, wet cunt. Having just commenced the next story, for the first time, her voice caught in mid-word, and I thought she had lost it. Quickly, she gave a small cough, then another, as I felt the muscles of her cunt contract hard twice more, very quickly, and a small river of her pussy fluid flowed over my thumb onto the seat. I heard her apologise to the viewing audience, then launch back into the story at the correct point and continue as if nothing were amiss. Her knees and calves locked tighter around my head and shoulders, holding me close to her pussy and indicating, I realised, that so far I was doing just fine and I should go on. I continued to move my head so that my lips slid up and down her distended clit, sucking, licking and tickling as I went, just like a little imitation of a blowjob. Her same tiny hip movements intensified, amplifying that sensation. In the earpiece, I could hear her voice had become a touch more husky, her breathing not quite as deep and steady as normal, and I wondered whether I should, in fact, back off to let her regain her full control but the intensity of those tiny hip movements would not allow it. She stopped speaking, as the Director rolled videotape once more, and gave herself over to breathing deeply as she bounced her clit at my face in a steady rhythm, forcing it to slide in and out between my lips. Immediately before the cue to read the next story, the hard, rapid contractions of Sandra's pussy muscles came again, a half-dozen or more, staccato, machinegun-like, accompanied by pulsating sensations within her clit and her pussy lips, and the now-steady flow of cum juice around my thumb at the entrance to her cunt. She made no real audible sound, no moan, no groan, no yelp or squeal, simply some distinct deep breaths, as she clamped her vibrating pelvic muscles tight. Then, without missing a beat, or her cue, Sandra launched steadily into the next story, her voice a little strained at first but then modulating perfectly. Even though it felt like she had cum hard, she had sucked it up and gotten on track with her story. So far, neither of us had heard, through the earpieces, any comments that suggested any of the crew had noticed anything amiss but I decided that it was time I did back off a little and let Sandra compose herself. I lifted my mouth off her clit, discontinuing her little imitation blowjob, and licked along the crease between her thigh and her hip, then trailed my tongue up onto her stomach, licking and kissing as I went. I felt the frantic little hip movements relax, just as she finished reading her copy on that story, allowing the Director to roll the videotape report accompanying it. Without unlocking her legs from around my shoulders, Sandra let them ease off as well and I could feel her stomach rise and fall steadily as she began a deep-breathing exercise. While the tape played, the Director took the opportunity to speak directly to Sandra again, through the earpiece, and I listened in carefully. "Sandra, mike safed. You sure you're OK? Anything we can do for you? Anything you need? Go ahead!" She replied, "No, thanks, I'm fine, I have everything I need! I'm just cumming ... down with something, I think. Be ready to cover, I guess, if I have a sudden coughing fit but I think I'm OK for the rest of the show." The Director confirmed that arrangement, then instructed Sandra that they were cuing the next ad break, which would give her three or four minutes relaxation. She gave the pre-break copy and leaned back into the chair. Her legs tightened around my shoulders once more, pulled my face into her steaming wet gash and pumped her hips up and down impatiently at me. I guessed that she wanted me to go hard at her clit and her pussy while the attention was off her. What a girl! In no imagined variant of my fantasy had I anticipated that it would be this good, that she'd be quite so good, so talented, so adept or so completely into it. It was like she had read the fantasy in my mind, then brought her journalistic and editorial skills to bear on it, shuffled and rearranged it, putting it back together new and improved. Almost like it was her fantasy too. Well, she hadn't told me hers, simply implied that she did have one, and maybe this was it. Not wasting any more of the commercial break, I trailed my tongue through the now damp and tangled mat on her pubic mound and hit the spot of her hot, hard clit again. I tickled it with my tongue, swirling around it, grazed it with my teeth lightly, receiving a welcoming twitch of her hips, then sucked it between my lips again, bobbing my head up and down upon it again. I tickled its underside with the tip of my tongue continuously as I sucked it back and forth and felt Sandra begin to flip her hips up and down against my face again. I increased my pace, tightened my lips around her clit and sucked at it as hard as I could, applying and releasing the air pressure at a regular pace. Sandra was pushing herself at me, forcing her clit between my lips, searching for a way to get more into my mouth. With my mouth so filled, there was no way I could tell her that I was already getting the entire length, so I just kept at what she was giving. The heat increased further within her deep, wet snatch, where my thumb was still buried almost completely within her. With her pelvic muscles still clamping down, it felt like her pussy lips were lapping at it, trying to gulp it further into herself, especially when she came again, hard, her hips convulsing, her pussy muscles madly contracting over and over, her leg muscles flexing as I felt her toes curl against my shoulders. She shook her hips and legs a little and I suspected that, if we'd had more room and a slightly smaller viewing audience than a few million people, she may well have drummed her heels on my back. If she hadn't, in fact, cum either of the two earlier instances, she sure was now, so the answer to my question on how often I could make her cum in a half-hour newscast was at least one to the good. But we still had a while to go yet, before I had to clean her up and get her skirt into position so she'd be able to roll back away from the newsdesk, swivel to the side and close the show with a full-length shot facing Camera 2. And Sandra was still cumming now, contractions still firing, as I slid my mouth off her clit and down the gash between her thighs, my tongue running down the wet, slick flesh, directly between the lips of her steaming wet cunt to join my thumb, upon which she was still impaled. I stretched the tongue up inside her as far as it would reach, wriggling it furiously, swishing it within the hot, sweet juices that I found there, feeling them flow across it into my open mouth. Same climax? Different climax? I wasn't sure, but her hips convulsed and the crazy contractions of her cunt muscles fired anew, when she felt me spear her with my tongue, causing the cheeks of her arse to bounce off the chair and her pussy to grind against my face. I couldn't even start to imagine the effect this amazing double-barrelled orgasm might be showing on the upper half of her body; I had visions of her eyes rolling back in their sockets, her jaw hanging open slackly, her tongue lolling out of her mouth and her hands squeezing and twisting at her breasts, her pretty burgundy blouse torn open. But, above the waist, apparently, it was like she was a totally separate woman. When she'd lain back into the chair, she must have closed her eyes, as if dozing, and put herself into some sort of meditative trance to present a view of full peace and tranquility, because the Director broke in again. "Wake up, Sandra, mike safed. Ten seconds to Air, nine ..." Speaking over the countdown, Sandra spoke back to him quickly, "Roster Natarsha, Deb or Charmaine for the next few days. I'll finish tonight, then I think I am going to need time off." As she heard him say "Confirmed, Sandra, open mike ... NOW!", she addressed the viewing audience, welcomed them back and launched immediately into the next story. Meanwhile, below the newsdesk, the entrance to her pussy was still grasping at me, she was still having the occasional contraction as I thrust my thumb in and out and laved her entire gash and clit with the flat of my tongue. She was gently rocking back and forth on the cheeks of her arse, her motion assisting me in running my tongue all over her slick pussy flesh. This was like an iceberg, small, cool, calm and peaceful above the surface, far more below it. No, bad analogy; this girl was no ice maiden, despite her professional image. More the simmering volcano, the molten liquid bubbling furiously, trapped below the solid facade of the mountain, waiting to explode into the open. Or, perhaps, a swan on the lake, serene and tranquil above the surface, but the legs and feet flailing and paddling madly below the surface. Whatever the analogy should be, Sandra was building again, she was so hot inside I felt she could scald me. Her hips, her arse, her legs were all in constant motion, even her toes which she was continuously flexing now. If I had stopped the motions of my face, mouth and tongue against her cunt and clit, she seemed like she could rub me against herself. Network TEN Late News I continued in that manner for the moment, letting her build slowly as she got through story after story, although Sandra herself upped the tempo each time the Control Room ran a videotaped report of the story. But I held her under my control, not allowing her body to run away with itself, until the next commercial break, after which she would only have the Weather, during which she was not in shot and I would clean and redress her, and her closing goodnight to complete. This slower build-up was obviously pleasurable to her, as I could hear from the tone in her voice that she was feeling happy, maybe even flirty, girlish and a little giggly. Her crosses to CommSec for the Financial Report and to the Sports Tonight desk for Bill Woods to run down the Sports Headlines proved that, as she laughed and bantered with each man. Closing the cross to the ST desk, she alluded to one of Bill Woods' stories, even giving a particularly flirty comment, laughing as she did so. "That would be a hard one to swallow, Mr Woods, but it might well be interesting to try." Bill Woods looked momentarily taken aback, but laughed along with Sandra before the Director cut away from the Sports Tonight desk. Sandra announced the commercial break and the following Weather report, then relaxed once more, leaning back in the chair and pulling me toward her steaming hot cunt again with her legs, still wrapped around me. While her comments to Bill Woods were relevant in connection with his sports story, to which she had ostensibly been referring, given that I had been whipping her pussy into some type of frenzy, I wondered whether it was actually a double entendre to let me know that she had similar oral treatment planned for me. My cock, which had been alternating between rock hard and semi-erect throughout my activity between Sandra's legs, despite having had no direct attention from either herself or me, instantly perked up again, signalling its interest in such activity by becoming rock hard once more, with a painfully throbbing pulse. I'd have to wait and see, though, what if any plans Sandra might have for me and my erection problem, well after the newcast was completed. I slipped my thumb from her sodden cunt, reached beneath her with both hands, cupping the cheeks of her arse, one in each hand, and lifted her higher as I speared the hot, moist hole between her legs with my probing tongue. I flicked it between her distended pussy lips, then laved the wide-open pink gash as I ran my tongue upward to attack her rigid, hot clit with the flat surface, forcing the protective hood back away. Repeating these movements, over and over, my face moved up and down the full length of her gash, opening it wider and leaving no part of it unattended. My reward for this from Sandra was that she ground her hips forward, mashing her pussy against my face once more until, my lips again seizing her swollen clit, I sucked it in and out, replicating a blow job, I included that within the routine into which I'd fallen. Sandra responded to this in a positive fashion and her arse recommenced its bouncing movements to help my face and tongue run up and down her gash. As her hips bobbed up and down, she was still flexing the muscles of her cunt and was building the tension deep within herself to blast forth with another climax. I worked harder and harder at her, knowing that she had to reach that point before the ad break finished and the Director was ready to cue in the Weather Report. She knew that as well and we worked in tandem to bring her to the point of orgasm, at which her hips stopped stock still even while I continued, before they convulsed up and down, gyrated in a circular fashion around my face and the clasping muscles of her cunt went wild with a long, intense series of contractions. I looked up along the line of her body and could see muscles beneath her smooth, flat stomach rippling with the release as well. Her chest, concealed beneath her burgundy silken blouse and the bunched-up grey skirt, rose and fell quickly with short sharp breaths. I knew that Sandra was struggling to control this climax, the intensity of the sensations almost too much for her to handle. Thankfully, the half-hour broadcast was close to finished; if we'd had an hour to devote to her oral stimulation, even the consummate professional, such as she is, could not conceal the exquisite pleasure to which we had subjected her. With a few large, hard thrusts of her hips, her steaming wet cunt, oozing translucent cum juice, ground hard against my face; she slowed again, the contractions of her spasming cunt muscles reducing to the odd, sporadic twitch as I continued to lick her, more softly now. We must have less than half a minute before she would need to refocus, to present the Weather Report, and I'd need to perform a rush clean-up and redressing job to make her presentable for her full-length closing shots. As if she read my thoughts, she slid herself further back into the chair, away from my questing tongue. Instinctively, I went to follow but held back at the last moment. Redirecting my thoughts to the next task at hand, I released the cheeks of her arse from my cupped hands, reached to the floor behind me and sought the flat pile of terry-cloth handtowels that I'd brought with me onto the set. Grabbing the first three, I lifted her arse from the seat again and lay the towels on top of the wet cum with which Sandra had covered the seat. I progressively grabbed more, one at a time, to wipe the cheeks of her arse and the back of her thighs dry of her slippery juices, before starting the pat and dab dry the sodden mat of her pubic hair and the deep well from which all this moisture had sprung, her boiling, oozing cunt. Gradually, just as the Director cued Sandra for the Weather Report, we had gotten her returned to some semblance of dry and clean. Quickly, I grabbed the last few dry handtowels from the floor behind me, mopped the seat hard with those I laid on it earlier, then replaced them with the final dry ones. Hopefully, the last dribbles of cum oozing from Sandra's hot cunt would not drench those too, as I let the cheeks of her arse settle down onto the towels. I heard her giving the Weather Report in her usual professional fashion until, strangely, she deviated from her prompting machine copy. "and, in Sydney tonight, while it has been largely dry, there have been some unconfirmed reports of extreme precipitation in isolated spots, with the expectation of more later in the evening ..." I almost burst into a laugh, out loud then and there. I knew her statement for what it was; she was talking about the copious flood of cum from within her own pussy and she was giving me an invitation to continue our sex play, once we were able to both get off this set, the one matter that I had omitted to include within my planning, I suddenly realised. But, first things first; I reached for the rolled-up skirt and rapidly unfurled it to cover her, as she lifted her bum again to help me wrestle the back of the skirt beneath her once more, while giving the final words of her Weather Report. Both these matters having been addressed, she lifted one leg across the other, alerting me to how moist she still was as I heard the unmistakable squelching sound of her wet pussy lips, kicked the chair back out of its locking points, swivelled to face Camera 2 as, with one hand she made a final move to smooth her skirt and with the other lay her running sheets on top of her lap. I watched her, in awe and admiration, as she began the final words of tonight's show, the perfect, untouchable news anchor. "Well, that's Ten's Late News for tonight. I hope you've had just as much fun watching as I've had bringing it to you. I'm Sandra Sully ... from myself and the rest of the Ten Late News team, Good Night." As soon as she'd finished and the set lights dropped to half-intensity, Sandra swivelled the chair directly toward me and rolled in as close to me as possible. After my initial surprise, I realised that she was nervous that one of the on-set crew, now all chattering on the earpieces with end-of-show tasks, might walk around the newsdesk to offer her some help or just to chat. If they did, she'd shield me from their view, unless they bent over and looked directly beneath. Quickly, I grabbed all the discarded, sodden handtowels and crammed them behind me. Neither Sandra nor I need have worried. She was able to sweetly and politely fend off the offers of assistance, and she let them all leave the set before her by saying that she just wanted to sit a moment or two and rest, while she signed off her running sheets. With that task completed, she quickly scribbled something on a sheet of paper and pretended to drop her pen on the floor. As she pushed the chair back, she leant forward and put her head under the table. I could see a very fine sheen of perspiration on her face under her make-up as she moved closer to me. "Mine too!" she whispered, as she grabbed my head and placed a quick kiss directly on my lips. Moving back again, she retrieved her pen, handing me the piece of paper on which she'd scribbled a few moments earlier. She got up off her chair, pushed it back in front of me, picked up her running sheets from the desk once more and turned to leave the set. As she walked away, I watched her cute arse receding into the distance, knowing that she was naked and wet beneath the skirt. I was also relieved to notice that, apart from some creasing of the skirt, there was remarkably little evidence through her skirt of exactly how wet she was, which shouldn't be noticed on her short walk to her dressing-room. My attention turned to the paper she had handed me. "My dressing-room - 15 minutes" she had written. And she'd left me in no doubt as to the purpose for which she wished to see me by drawing the Man-Woman symbols above the message, with the Man arrow piercing the circle of the Woman symbol. Sandra and I were obviously not yet finished tonight and we were going to move beyond the scope of our original shared fantasy. I folded the message, slipped it within my shirt pocket, bundled up the sodden handtowels, wrapping them in the drier ones from the chair, and settled back to wait the fifteen minutes she'd specified, realising she knew that was the safest time for me to leave the set. When the time came to follow Sandra's path to her dressing-room, I began to climb out from underneath the newsdesk with my bundle of handtowels. Doing so, I noticed that when Sandra had left a quarter-hour earlier, she'd gone without her shoes, left lying forgotten on the floor under the desk. I scooped them up as well and set out to cover the short distance quietly to her dressing-room just down the corridor. Upon reaching her door, I didn't bother knocking, simply opened it and walked through, to see her sitting at the make-up table, having just completed removing her on-air make-up. She looked at me in the mirror, flashed that beautiful smile of hers, and swivelled her chair around to sit there facing me. "Damn! I wanted to be cleaned up a bit and have gotten my street make-up on before you got here. But I was in a bit of a dream when I got back here and got nothing started for a while. Oh, by the way, I counted five, I think, although I wasn't concentrating on counting, believe me!" I laughed, agreed with her count but played down its importance, and told her not to worry about the make-up, pointing out that she'd look like that crying greeting-card clown, all smeared make-up and moisture, a little later if she had managed it. She laughed along with me again, that beautiful bell-like sound. I watched her, spellbound, for a moment, noting that she'd not yet managed to change her on-air outfit either. She said to me, "Well, you are quite sure of yourself, then, and why you're here, aren't you?" I replied, "Of course I am. I read your note. It was quite explicit and it imbued me with great confidence." We both laughed again. I held up the shoes and the handtowels, turned my head questioningly, and she indicated where I should leave them. I moved around the room to dispose of them, then returned to face her, still seated, once more. But now, I noticed, she had unbuttoned her burgundy silk blouse, pulled it out of the waist of her skirt and left it hanging open, revealing a matching burgundy silk bra worn beneath it, her slightly-freckled cleavage distinctly on display. She'd also unzipped her grey skirt at both sides, it having slid further below her waist, revealing much of her firm, flat stomach to me again. "Great confidence? Is that all it's given you, I wonder?" That said, Sandra stood up, holding the skirt up with both hands at the side of her hips. She turned back to the table beneath the make-up mirror, continuing to hold up her skirt with one hand, took the phone off its cradle and laid it on the table, picked up her mobile and switched it off, guaranteeing us no interruptions. I gazed at her cute arse through the back of the skirt while she did this, noticing that there was now a large, dark, damp circle, no doubt caused by her cum juices continuing to flow as she'd sat removing her make-up. Holding the skirt with both hands once more, Sandra turned back to face me, stood studying me for a few moments, then made a great show of letting go the waistband of the skirt. The loosened skirt slid a little lower, displaying more of her lower stomach, hung there unsteadily for a moment, then dropped suddenly and quickly to the floor, surrounding her feet. She took one step forward, out of the jumble of the skirt, and stopped there, once more, on display for me. I swept my gaze down her body and back again to her face. In that instant, I observed her fine, slender legs, rising to beautiful feminine hips, a frame for her pelvic region, crowned by her fair pubic bush; the firm, flat stomach with her cute navel; her chest covered in its fine burgundy silk; her slender neck, topped by her incredibly beautiful face, framed by her blonde hair and highlighted by the sparkling brown eyes and shiny red lips. She smiled at me, seeing the approval and desire reflected in my face as I gazed at her. My blood was surging through my body, racing to pool within my cock, which was thickening and growing rapidly, pushing the material at the crotch of my trousers outward. Sandra's eyes dropped quickly, saw what she sought and looked back directly into my eyes. In an instant, she launched herself toward me and landed within my arms, driving me backward toward the door. One of her arms lifted from around my neck, reached down and flicked her dressing-room door locked, then wrapped around behind my head once more and dragged my face forward, to kiss me long and deeply, her tongue tangling with mine inside my mouth. I stumbled forward a pace or two, holding her close to me, her feet suspended centimetres above the ground. Rather than simply hang there, Sandra spread her knees wide and brought her legs up, around behind my arse, locked her feet and began to rub her still-wet pussy directly on my stiffening cock beneath my trousers. While she stimulated me with the pressure and closeness of her beautiful cunt, I walked us over to her dressing-room couch and lay back on it, bringing the full weight of her body on top of my cock. She wriggled around on the lump in my trousers, then rocked back and unbuttoned my shirt quickly, pulling it out of the waist of my trousers, then helping me to wrestle my arms and shoulders out of it. As it dropped away behind me, she pulled it out of the back of my trousers as well and threw it to the end of the couch. She leaned foward again, kissing me deeply once more, then rocked back away from me and began to unfasten my trousers. She unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my trousers, reaching inside to slide her fingers on the rigid bar of my cock, still trapped within my briefs. She slipped the waistband of my briefs down, exposing the mushroom head of my cock as well as much of the stiff shaft. With one hand on my chest to balance herself, Sandra reached down with the other to wrap it around my rock-hard shaft and began to slide her hand back and forth along it. She aligned her thumb with the thick tube running along the side closer to her, stroking it consistently as she increased the speed of her jacking motion. Each time she reached the head of my cock, she'd tickle the sensitive V on one side of it with her thumb, then polish the head in the palm of her hand a few times, before running it along the rigid shaft once more. I moaned as I reached up and cupped the silk-covered mounds of her breasts in my hands. I ran my thumbs over her rigid nipples beneath the silk, grazing them and flicking them before reaching up to sweep the silk of her blouse and her bra straps from her shoulders. I slid my hands back down to cup the heavy mounds of her tits again, then moved my thumbs to slide them up under the elastic around the bottom of the bra. I pulled it out toward me and the twin mounds of her full breasts dropped out through the gap to hang there before my eyes. The twin dark-pink nipples were stiff and upstanding, the areolae engorged with blood and I rubbed my palms over them, stimulating them further. Sandra moaned, a low continuous humming as she played with my rock-hard shaft and I rubbed her swollen nipples. At once, she stood up off me, letting my cock go and her breasts racing away from me. She wriggled out of her blouse and bra, all tangled around her and threw them on top of my shirt. Completely naked, she turned and straddled my face, bringing her pussy and clit to land directly on my mouth. I began to lick and suck at her immediately, tasting her sweet juice as she oozed onto and into me. I slid my tongue into her hot, sweet honeypot and wriggled it furiously between her distended pink lips. She began to slid back and forth on my face, rubbing the length of her slick wet gash on my questing tongue and lips. Sandra then reached down, a hand at each side of my hips and swept both my trousers and briefs down my legs to my ankles, my hot, long, rock-hard cock and my balls popping free to wave directly in front of her face. Without delay, Sandra dropped her head straight onto the solid rod of flesh, opened her lips and slid it right to the back of her mouth. She rocked her head up and down its entire length a few times, sucking hard, and then set about a more regular rhythm, with shorter strokes, but stroked the rigid shaft with one hand, cupping and fondling my balls with the other. She swirled her tongue around the bulbous head of my cock, tickling at the eye with the tip, tasting the first drops of pre-cum as they leaked from me. I could feel my cock throbbing tremendously, as if it was expanding and contracting as she sucked it almost down into her throat. It also felt like my balls had swollen to twice their normal size as Sandra rolled them around within her lightly clenched palm. I could almost feel my cum bubbling up within them, she was causing such exquisite sensations with her talented, sensitive mouth and tongue. Then she let my cock slip out of her mouth, continuing the slide one hand up and down the shaft at an ever-increasing tempo, and she gathered up the base of my sac within her other loosely clenched fist, my balls protruding from the top and began to lick all over the skin of my sac. I moaned into her sopping pussy as it slid across my mouth faster and faster, which prompted her rotate her hips in a circular motion and smear her flowing lubrication all over my face. I grabbed her hips and the cheeks of her arse, pulling her even harder against my face and nipped her scalding, rock-hard clit between my lip-covered teeth. Her hips started to buck more wildly and I could feel her orgasm building closer and closer. I guess she could too, as she moaned a few times, her breath panted heavily and her body was beginning to shake. She was jerking her hand on my overheated shaft and had started the same hand action on my scrotum gripped within her other fist. She dropped her head to my balls, licking and tickling them again, then sucked each in turn into her mouth and sucked on them hard. My hips and arse began to bounce up off the couch, my rigid cock hitting her chin, so she let my balls drop from within her mouth and slipped the swollen, bulbous mushroom head of my cock between her lips again. Network TEN Late News As my hips bounced higher from the couch, I forced more of my solid shaft into her mouth, so she let me start to fuck it. I slid the shaft in and out between her lips, while she held her mouth there for me, then bobbed her head to meet it and pull away again, sucking at it intensely and sliding it further toward the back of her throat with each inward stroke. I mirrored her actions in miniature on her clit with my lips and we both sprinted toward our mutual climactic goal. We were both very close to cumming, our bodies humming and pulsating with the sensations, my rock-hard cock and her steaming cunt both throbbing intensely with their huge engorgement of blood and heat. Suddenly, Sandra rolled her cunt and clit away from my mouth, let my cock slip from hers and stood up beside me, still gripping and jerking at my cock shaft with one hand. A little confused, I looked at her standing there, slightly bent over to retain her grip on my hot shaft. She had released my balls from their captive position within her other hand, which she now placed on my chest and answered my questioning look with an imploring one of her own. Her eyes looked a little pained but glazed with lust at the same time and she obviously wanted to ask me for something but was unsure of my reaction. I nodded at her, wanting her to tell me exactly what it was she needed. "I want to ... I want ... but ... I need ... I need to ... I know you ... want ... I want you to ... cum in my mouth ... but ... more ... more ... I need ... fuck ... you ... fuck me ... properly ... this ... dick ... your cock ... inside me ... in my pussy ... please ... please!" It wasn't exactly simple to follow but clear enough to me, I thought. She knew that I was all tuned to fuck her mouth and cum in it, having her swallow my cum as I pumped it in geysers down her ready throat. She was saying she wanted that too, very much, and I guessed she had been preparing to do just that, when another need, more urgent, more insistent, had presented itself to her and would not be denied. She wanted my cock slid inside her cunt, a desire to be fucked in the pussy, to be filled with the hard flesh of a rampant cock and slide along it, feeling it slip right up to the entry of her womb. The confusion and pain was simply that she also wanted me to have my desire and wasn't sure if the two desires could be reconciled. But she needn't have worried, as her alternate desire was also mine. I knew that her pussy would be just as sweet, just as hot, just as wet, just as welcoming as her mouth and I would be happy to slide my cock deep within her, right to the hilt, our pubic bones bumping and my dark pubic hair tangled with her blonde. I nodded vigorously, not wanting to allow time for her to slide back down away from her climax, especially if we were going to finish ourselves off by fucking. "Yes," I said simply. "Thank ... thank ... so long ... years ... six ... seven ... don't know ... long ... haven't ... want ... now". I wondered, momentarily, how such a beautiful, intelligent, talented, friendly woman had managed to go without for so many years. She should be able to pick and choose, discard at will those men who don't meet her exacting standards and enjoy those that do. Sex, or getting sex, should be an easy matter for her but it seems that it may well not have been for quite a while. I knew that she'd had a marriage break-up quite a few years before, one that had been a little acrimonious through being totally unexpected, it seems, and devastating to her when it occurred. It seemed highly likely, as well, that she had not been with a man since her husband, having built barriers against being hurt. Time to pull down those walls and free her inner sexual being completely. Allowing her to maintain her grip on my rigid cock, fearful that if made to release it, even for a moment, she might see that as a form of rejection by me, I slid my hand up the back of her thigh onto the cheek of her arse and pulled her closer to me. Half rolling onto my side to face her, with my other hand, I reached between her legs, massaged her clit with my thumb, then slipped it into her pussy, gently walking her even closer to me. I removed my thumb from her cunt, softly gripped her by the inner thigh and lifted her leg, to bring her across to straddle me. She realised my intent and completed the step across my body, then bent her knees to squat closer to the purple bulbous head of my rigid cock, still gripped in her hand. She pointed my cock at the pink, angry gash between her legs and rubbed vigorously within the folds of her pussy with it, coating the slick flesh of my head and shaft with a huge quantity of her juices. It ran down my cock and pooled at the root, soaking my pubic hair in increasing amounts as she continued to stroke herself with my flesh like it was a dildo. I let her go as long as she wanted, waiting for her to be completely ready to proceed to her next step. Sandra squatted a little further and, aligning my cock along her slit, she rubbed her slick wet flesh along the rigid pole, then angled her pelvis slightly so that she could rub her hot, rigid clit along my shaft as well, now that it was thoroughly soaked with her juices. She built her tempo, holding my cock against her clit with the palm of her hand, rubbing her clit along its length and rubbing the skin of my dick, back and forth, with the hand wedging it into her gash. She began to pant heavily, her skin flushed pink over most of her body. I knew that she was very close to ready, both to slip me inside her steaming cunt and to reach her climax. She started to moan continuously again, unlike on-set, when no sound of arousal had emanated from her at all. Both forms of stimulation she was giving, manually on my cock and aurally by audibly enjoying herself, were pulling me right back into the magic of the moment. My hips began to move once more, just tiny movements, still allowing her to control the positioning of my cock against herself. But she had noticed my small movements immediately and her mind refocused, her eyes opened again and she looked down at me. She smiled that brilliant smile of hers again, the eyes sparkling, her lips shining and slightly open. She looked intently at me, deeply into my eyes, as if searching for something there as she kept rubbing her clit with my hard cock. A look of resolve came over her face, her mouth set in a line of determination, she nodded her head once, half at me, half somewhere else, and she gave out a small "Mmm" sound. "Now!" She emitted that single word as she slipped the bulbous head of my rigid cock away from her clit, sliding it down the gash of her pussy, aligned it with the opening of her cunt and sank down fast onto my solid column of cockflesh. I felt the wet, slick skin of her pussy lips melt open to permit the head of my cock to slide through them, then envelop it fully. The velvet-lined walls of her tight cunt slid along the taut, slick skin of my shaft as it slipped smoothly inside her, further and further, cleaving the soft, wet flesh within her. The sensation was absolutely delicious. Her downward movement onto my shaft slowed, when about half my length was embedded within her. She wriggled her hips and I slid further inside. I had not moved yet but, now she was impaled on about two-thirds of my cock, wriggling and rotating her hips again, attempting to suck more of my shaft inside herself, I renewed the movement of my hips, up and down, with a slight circular motion, and my cock began to gently split her open, more with each bounce and wriggle of both our hips. A little more at a time, I watched my rock-hard pole disappear slowly further inside her. All of a sudden, her cunt released another small flow of cunt juice, its tight resistance relaxed just a little more and Sandra dropped right onto me, the remainder of my cockshaft sliding inside her and disappearing from view completely. I could see her hard clit protruding, pointing toward my pubic bone but a few centimetres above it. As we lay still a moment, savouring the sensations, I reached forward with a hand and gripped her clit between two of my fingers, rubbing them back and forth along it. This was all the encouragement that Sandra needed to restart her movements. She rose up, the rigid shaft of my cock reappearing from inside her as she slid up off it, till the bell-end almost popped out of her. She moved back down smoothly, sucking it back within her super-heated cunt. The warmth and the wetness were an incredible sensation and I lay still once more, allowing her to slide herself up and down the length of my super-hard cock, both of us savouring the feel of the other. Sandra could not believe how full of cock she felt; it had been a long time but she couldn't quite remember the sensation of her cunt being swelled as much as this. She felt the pulsing of my cock as well and that sensation seemed more intense than it ever had before, including the first time she had been fucked and lost her virginity. In fact, for her, this seemed more like the first time. She slid along my hot, hard shaft, again and again, feeling the easy friction of her velvet inner flesh rubbing along its slick, taut skin. She picked up her pace, moving quicker and quicker, noting that I remained still, allowing her to control the speed and depth of penetration for the moment. She knew that I would start to move again soon, though, and she began to anticipate that occurring, becoming progressively more impatient for me to do so. I watched her carefully, looking for the exact moment to restart motion and begin to actively thrust my hard cock into her, rather than let her suck me in completely at her own pace. Sandra started to clamp down, flexing her cunt muscles on my cock, building her own additional resistance, increasing the friction of our organs rubbing against each other. Just as she actively began to push herself down onto my cock, rather than just dropping and sliding along the shaft, I knew the moment was right to push back into her, a little harder with each thrust. I pushed my arse upward as she pushed down, slid up hard and fast inside her, my cockhead pushing right against the flesh of her cervix and then gave an extra little thrust when I reached it. Sandra reacted immediately, her head rocked back, her eyes closed momentarily, then flew open wide again, and she let out a little grunt. We thrust at each other like that, her little grunts becoming a bit louder, then more frequent as I increased the tempo, dragging her along with me, then slowed and rebuilt an increased cadence all over again. Occasionally, as we slowed, I would give two or three sharp, hard thrusts within her cunt, just as she thought we were moving slowly again, and would rematch her tempo once more before she could readjust to mine. Then the tempo rebuilt, once more, quickly and more quickly. I was watching her face and listening to the sounds she was making. She was certainly building the sexual tension within herself that she'd need to cum but I wanted to bring her along with me more quickly, as the tension within my balls was building very rapidly as well. Slowing our tempo helped but really I wanted to increase our pace, bringing us both to our climaxes. Tantric sessions might well be beautiful experiences, by all accounts, but my mind was telling me that I wanted to cum, and cum soon, that I wanted to spray a torrent of cum deep inside Sandra's cunt and feel it ooze back out toward me along with the copious juices of her climax as well. Holding Sandra by the hips, I searched for an angle of her pelvis that might bring her clit into regular contact with any part of my body, to massage and manipulate it as we fucked. I could have been tweaking it between my fingers and, in fact, had, but I also wanted hands available to pull her upper body closer to me, to kiss her, to play with her tits and her swollen breasts with their distended nipples and puffy areolae. I wanted to kiss and lick them as well, to bury my head between her large breasts, to lick the fine sheen of salty sweat between them, running my tongue over the fine scattering of about a dozen light freckles on her chest, just at the start of her cleavage. I wanted to suck the swollen tips of her breasts into my mouth and tease them with my lips, not only for my own pleasure, although it surely would be, but for hers as well. I wanted to kiss her neck and run my tongue across it, for her pleasure as well as my own. I'm sure there may be women who do not have sensitive breasts and necks, but I'm also sure I have never yet met any of them. I found the position we needed where, if I changed my thrusting action a little, Sandra's rigid clit would push gently against my pubic bone as my cock slid through her cunt on the outward stroke. I held her in place against me with one arm around her hip, across the base of her spine. As I changed my own thrusting action, I applied pressure through her back to bring her to the same action that I was about to employ, as she needed to almost mirror it. At the same time, I realised that I could stroke Sandra's lower back and the cheeks of her bum a little, once we settled into our new stroke and tempo. We moved into it simply and easily as Sandra did not fight the variation but followed me perfectly into the new angles and cadence. We began a little slowly once more, while both becoming comfortable with the differences, but then built and slowed the speed to suit ourselves. Once she had relaxed into it, she showed her appreciation of the heightened sensations on her clit with a continuous humming moan, filling the gaps between her interspersed small grunts as I thrust into her. I stroked her back and her arse cheeks too, her grunts becoming occasional Oh's and, now having pulled her upper body closer to myself, these became sporadic Oh Yeah's or more frequent grunts and moans of approval when she felt my lips and tongue tickling, licking and teasing at her neck, breasts and nipples. Sandra was right with me now, as close to cumming as I was, and it was time to take ourselves over the top. Continuing the variations we'd included, I now let our tempo increase with no attempts to reduce it. Sandra's body still wanted to run out of control but I held her to mine and we steadily neared the peak for which we headed. I wanted Sandra to cum moments before me, to ensure that she reached her climax without any chance of missing it, but was unable to hold mine back just that long. I felt the cum boil up out of my balls, a roiling, powerful torrent that would not be denied and I could only surrender to it, thrusting harder within Sandra. As I thrust into her rapidly, I felt the torrent of cum charge into the shaft of my cock and, with a huge twitch, which Sandra felt distinctly, letting out a loud Oh!, the first large glob of hot sperm rocketed from the eye of my cock at high speed, squirted right at the senstive flesh of Sandra's cervix. She felt that distinctly as well, the pressure and the heat, and she emitted another loud sound, something like a cross between a grunt and a squeal. She squeezed down on me with the muscles of her cunt, which then contracted once hard as she was so close to climax herself. As the next glob of sperm shot from the eye of my cock, withdrawing on its outward stroke, it was released into the tunnel of her cunt. She didn't noticeably feel it, not that I could detect anyway. I quickly thrust back in hard again, squeezing the head of my cock right up against her cervix once more. The next squirt of hot sperm hit her sensitive inner flesh again and, with all our rubbing, stroking and thrusting, was the final sensation Sandra needed as well. My cock deep inside her, still twitching hard and squirting my torrent of cum into her, felt the walls of her cunt, the lips at the entrance, the tender flesh of her cervix at the base of her cunt sheath, all of them, ripple and pulse. The muscles of Sandra's cunt and pelvis contracted hard, rapidly and continuously, gripping at my cock like a myriad of hands. She panted hard and fast, emitting small squeals of pleasure as she breathed, metamorphosing into a constant litany of Oh! and Oh Yes!, her hips and lower body shaking almost uncontrollably. Both her arms wrapped around my head and shoulders, she began to kiss me, short ones, and longer deeper ones, all the while continuing her small squealing sounds. Both of us still bounced together, me thrusting my still-hard shaft within her, the twitches of cumming slowing for me now though. I continued to thrust while I was still rock-hard, seemingly lasting longer than normal, and was rewarded by another explosion within Sandra's pelvic region, cascades of contractions and involuntary movement. She shook and bounced on my cock, now beginning to soften a little. Her head rolled back, then she shook it back and forth, and side to side. She renewed her squeals of pleasure, and completely lost all rhythm that we'd established. She jumped, bounced, shook and wriggled as the continuous, machine-gun contractions gradually became more irregular, then slowed, then became just odd sporadic twitches, seeming to come from nowhere. I remained at least half-hard still and she wriggled, rotating her cunt around my cock, giving herself a few bonus contractions for a while, including one set of four hard, rapid ones together, almost like a little mini orgasm. That delighted her and brought forth her pealing laugh once more, and a large kiss on my lips, with our tongues tangling and playing together. At last, we both returned to a semblance of normality from the heights of orgasmic sensation gradually. Sandra's cunt contractions had all but finished and my softening cock only remained inside her because of the still-tight seal of Sandra's pussy entrance. Flexing her muscles gently, Sandra tried to keep her cunt closed tight to prevent it slipping out. She whispered, "Mmmm, that was great, really worth the long wait, even if I didn't remember it being so good. Oh, no, it's slipping out, I don't want to let it go". I agreed with her that it was great, even better than great maybe. For me, it had been perfect, because of my partner, which elicited Sandra's little sound of delight, a beaming smile and a quick kiss. I went on, telling her that nothing was ever really made worthwhile by such a long wait, that she could have experienced all those beautiful sensations rather than the long wait. She looked at me pensively and nodded. Worried that I'd brought her feelings down, I mentioned this was definitely the way to break the drought, though, if you did have to wait, getting us both laughing again. I told her as well that, instead of holding my flaccid cock inside her forever, better to let it go and seek ways to reinflate its enthusiasm. She could then have it back inside again, when it was of more complete use. Sandra laughed, agreed with me about that and immediately relaxed her cunt muscles, allowing me to pop out from between her pussy lips. She slid down my body and took my limp cock within her hand, fondling it gently, then bent forward to suck it into her mouth and proceeded to lick it clean. I lay back to enjoy the sensations, but she stopped again and looked up at me. "Speaking of ..." she said. "Adjourn to my place? I've taken time off, after tonight's on-air play, and I'd love company 24/7 for a change." Gallantly, I expressed my delight and we arranged to meet at her address and not be seen leaving together. We agreed to simply dress quickly and go, before being caught together here. Sandra mentioned the large bath at her apartment, in which we could restart our evening, sipping cold wine and washing each other clean again. Almost ideal, I responded, if only we improved it, with sex in the bath as well. Wearing only her unbuttoned blouse, she reached across and punched my shoulder softly, pretending a look of exasperation. Network TEN Late News "You cheeky, cheeky man! Well, if you really, really must ... I'm sure that I'd love to arrange that for you". Having finished dressing, we both left the studios, racing for Sandra's apartment, where an incredible, idyllic week alone together ensued. But those experiences are stories for another time, maybe. == Author's Reminder: In case anyone reading this suffered from short attention span while reading my introductory remarks, it ISN'T REAL, it NEVER HAPPENED, as much as both of us may love it to be so. Believing it as fact would just be stupid. Sorry, had to be said, for those who just don't listen!