Trouble With The Teleprompter

As Allison’s voice droned on about traffic congestion, John’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the vivid, almost tangible fantasy that had just consumed him. He risked a glance at Olivia, who was now engrossed in her notes, oblivious to the odd events happening around her. His eyes then drifted to Scarlette, who was still poised in front of the green screen. Her dress, or more accurately, her minidress riding up her thighs like a goddamn invitation.

For a moment, he could swear he saw a flicker of a smile play on her lips when she caught him staring.

Then Olivia's voice snapped him back. He looked straight ahead, frowning at the teleprompters glitching out. But Miss Perfect didn't miss a beat.

“Thank you for the reports, Scarlette and Allison.” Olivia turned to her close-up camera, camera 3, her smile perfectly polished. “Today, we start our day with…“

The teleprompter flickered again.

“...how I lost my virginity.”

John nearly choked on his own spit. His eyes darted to the teleprompter, confirming the impossible. Describe how you lost your virginity. What in the actual fuck? Was this some kind of twisted joke? Where the hell was the Control Room? And surely, Olivia, the prim and proper news anchor, the one gunning for the night spot, wasn’t about to spill her sexual history on live television. Right?

But Olivia’s face remained serene, her voice steady as she launched into her tale. “I lost my virginity in college,” she said, her eyes locked on the camera, “when my friends dared me to fuck the entire campus football team after their practice.”

John’s jaw hit the floor. Olivia? A goddamn gangbang? It was surreal, obscene, and hotter than a two-dollar pistol. He pictured her, naked and ****, surrounded by those sweaty, beefy jocks, their hands all over her, their mouths sucking and biting. His cock throbbed against his pants.

“I was nervous,” Olivia continued, her voice devoid of emotion, “but determined to show I wasn’t some nerd glued to her books. The team was surprised to see me naked when they got inside, but they were more than happy to have their way with me. They took turns, pounding into me, filling me with their hot, sticky cum. I was sore for days, my pussy raw and swollen, but I didn’t regret a single moment. It took me three days to finally get the smell of sex off of me. We’ll turn to Westin Higgins for what you need to know to avoid recent text message scams.”

John was practically drooling. He imagined her spread out on the locker room floor, legs splayed, a dozen cocks ramming into her, each one leaving a deposit of hot, sticky cum. Her perfect makeup smeared, her hair a mess, her body slick with sweat and cum. He wanted to be there, to taste her, to feel her tight, swollen pussy clenching around his own throbbing cock. He wanted to add his own load to the mix, to brand her with his seed.

This was going to be a long broadcast.