There's not much you can do. Just finish the segment.

With as much subtlety as you can, you position yourself at an angle from the camera and gesture at the surrounding landscape. With you other hand your reach to readjust your bulging cock, pulling it up and angling it across your waste toward your hip. You shiver with pleasure at the sensation of it rubbing against your leg, stammering a bit, and losing your place on the script.

By the time you collect yourself, you've come to the stairs for the final shot. As you ascend, so do I. Every step upward gives me momentum to press against your waistband and wedge myself up higher. The streak of creamy drool I leave begins leaking through the material and gives you a long, dark wet spot.

Climbing the steps, your back is turned toward the camera, and you have just a split second to glance down before you'll have to turn around to face the camera. As your producer had planned it, the camera crew would stay on the ground level so the angle of the shot would show the height of the ruins behind you.

Just in the nick of time, I escape your pants, extending vertically and exposed to the open air. Ah... the cool breeze of a spring morning. It's so refreshing. you grab at me and try to shove me back into place, but I'm too hard and too slippery to be controlled. You face a choice. You can finish the segment with your back turned to the camera and all your viewers locked on the sight your your prodigious bubble butt... or, you can turn and face them.

As you fumble with your slippery dick you realize how unprofessional it would be to try to sign off with your back facing the camera. You have to turn around. Hopefully, Devin will help you out by zooming in on your face and leaving your massive boner out of the frame!

But he was so distracted before, what if he doesn't?

As you turn, you decide to sit on the top step, moving your arms to cover your cock. You manage to keep it out of view, but your coat brushes against your sensitive cockhead along the way, and you are pushed over the edge.

I lurch and spasm as waves of pleasure build in your abs and groin and rush down through your balls and into me. A thick rope of jizz parts my lips and bubbles onto the fabric of your coat pressed against me. The **** of the ejaculation is tremendous, a couple of squirts splash against your arm and dribble over the front side. The rest drip down onto the metal staircase you are perched on. They land with loud splats that you fear may be picked up on the mics.

"This is a major investment--mrnph--on the part of the city--ah, mmnnrgh--and it represents aahh--a new turn in policy--fffmmrph--here in the city."

"Well..." Shelly's voice in your ear is strained... like she's not sure what's happening exactly but she knows enough to not want to know. "This has been quite the tour, hasn't it?"

Shelly's cohost on the morning show is awkwardly silent.

"It's sure has... I'm Jaime Gonzalez wishing you all a great morning from the future site of Glorydale Park," you manage.

"That's a wrap," shouts your onsite producer. "Everything alright over there Jaime? You kind of got weird on us there at the end."

You glance down at your crotch. Your long dick is still hard, and if you didn't know better, you'd say it was smiling up at you with drooling lips. You remain seated, telling the crew that you twisted your ankle on the steps and need a moment. "Devin, can I talk to you a sec? Everyone else, why don't y'all start packing things up."

Devin approaches. He seems unable to look you in the eyes.

"Uh, Devin... How much of that did the camera get?"

"Bro... I'm not sure. It was pretty distracting. But once I remembered we were live I did my best to keep it out of the shot."

He walked off toward the station van. Finally alone, you assess the damage. Your suit is ruined. Cum is dripping down the arms where you had covered yourself with them, and a huge pool of jizz had collected on the stairs below you; it looks like a quarter of a cup at least. You don't think of yourself as being that heavy a cummer. Your cock is finally starting to soften. You slip off your suit coat and fold it so the stains won't show. Then you tuck your long piece of meat back into your boxerbriefs.

You are trying to decide whether to call in sick to work and head back home or to go in to the office when your phone starts buzzing. It's Michael.

You answer it.

"Jaime! WHAT. THE. FUCK!?!?"