Channel 69 News at 4:20

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The familiar jingle chimes across the broadcast spectrum, but the "69" logo that splashes across screens isn't the usual wholesome network branding viewers might expect in another reality. Here, it's a promise.

"Good evening, I'm Richard Harding," the lead anchor says, adjusting his tie with one hand while his other rests casually on the thigh of the entertainment reporter beside him. She doesn't flinch. She just continues reviewing her notes for the upcoming segment.

The camera pans to the weather station, where meteorologist Sunny Skies stands before the green screen, her blouse unbuttoned to her navel, nipples already stiff under the studio lights. Behind her, the five-day forecast glows in high-definition.

"And I'm... oh..." Sunny begins, then gasps as sports anchor Mike Ballsman steps into frame, already loosening his belt. "Give me just a moment, viewers."

Mike doesn't wait for the commercial break. In this timeline, there isn't one. The "69 News" format pioneered the integration of information and intimacy, understanding that audiences retain data better when endorphins are flowing.

"Coming up," Richard continues, undeterred, scrolling through his teleprompter, "the mayor's new infrastructure bill faces stiff opposition, pun intended, from the city council. We'll have that after Mike gives Sunny today's humidity readings."

Sunny dipped down and unzipped Mike's slacks to pull out his cock.

"The Burlington Bastards have a new mascot, get this "Hallie the Homewrecker" here are some exclusive photos.

"I would definitely put my star pitcher in her dugout" quipped Richard.

"She joins Susie the Skank as the second "Stadium Slut" in the FBL, continued Mike as Sunny sucked him.

An image of Susie came up in the corner.

"Wow, so these sluts, what do they do?" asked Richard.

"They are there to entertain the fans. The seventh inning stretch usually involves some lucky fan stretching out their pussy on the jumbotron." replies Mike.

"Wow, I think I just became a baseball fan." said Richard.

Mike has positioned Sunny over the desk now, her skirt hiked, legs spread. The chroma key behind them still displays a swirling doppler radar, creating the surreal effect of storm clouds passing through her arched back as he enters her.

"High... high pressure system," Sunny manages, gripping the desk edge, her professional smile never wavering despite the rhythmic slapping sounds echoing through the studio. "Moving in from the... oh god... from the west. Expect... ungh... partly cloudy skies with a seventy percent chance of... fuck... precipitation."

"That's right," Mike grunts, thrusting steadily, his hand wrapped in her dark hair, pulling her head back so she can still address Camera 2. "And... nngh... your weekend sports forecast calls for... intense... physical activity."

The camera zooms in on Sunny's flushed face, catching the precise moment her eyes roll back. "And now... ah!... a look at... traffic," she breathes, gesturing vaguely toward the side monitor where the traffic reporter is similarly occupied with a cameraman in the chopper feed.

Richard provides smooth transitions between segments, occasionally glancing over to appreciate the view. When Sunny climaxes, loudly, messily, without breaking professional decorum, he simply waits for her breathing to steady before tossing to the next story.

"Still to come," he says, as Mike finishes and zips up, Sunny already adjusting her earpiece, "why the school board's new budget could affect your property taxes. But first... Sunny, you have something on your chin."

She wipes it away with a practiced thumb, smiles brightly at the camera, and the broadcast continues uninterrupted. She leaves the globs dripping down her tits alone, letting the cum slowly run down her front.