Time for something news worthy

With a smile plastered on your face, you leave the office feeling the most accomplished at as you ever have. Veronica is waiting with the car for you. You say nothing to her as you get in the car.

"Where to, boss?" your driver asks.

"We're going to the local news station," is your reply.

"Oh? Did you get a hot tip?"

"No, but I'm going to give them one!" You laugh out loud at your own joke. Veronica smiles but she seems to have missed it.

Without any further conversation, she brings you to your destination. Seeing her hold the door open for you reminds you of your terrible joke and you begin chuckling again. You ignore her questioning look and head for the main entrance, pausing to mark yourself once again. You hesitate for a few minutes while you consider how you want to word this.

Imperceptible

You make sure to use a light touch. You'll want to wash this off easily.

You open the door and head inside. You heart nearly stops when you notice the receptionist looking right at you. Her searching look fills you with dread. Does it not work anymore? Have you finally taken things too far?

It's only when you hear the soft click of the door closing behind you that the receptionist shakes her head and goes back to her computer. She wasn't looking at you, but the door that seemingly opened by its own volition. You release a breath that you didn't realize your were holding and try to steady your nerves again.

You wander the building for a bit. You allow yourself some fun while you do. A pinched nipple or slapped ass here or there leaves everyone staring at your suddenly blushing victim's outburst while you continue on completely unnoticed.

Eventually, you make it to the televised news room. It's smaller than you thought it would be. The anchors' desk is just a few feet from the sports desk. The cameras are almost on top of each other. Just off center is where you find your mark. The hot weather girl. The one that always shows as much leg and cleavage as allowed by law. Her skimpy, yet somehow still professional outfits, have aroused men and women across the state and has drawn no small amount of ire from more conservative viewers.

You give a long look at the protections from legal ramifications that you gave yourself. You're about to really put them to the test. You modify the imperceptible property you gave yourself so that the viewers at home will get the full Monty and something to make yourself more likable.

Imperceptible - except by viewers outside this building

Fan favorite when on TV

No sense in alienating yourself to the public. Now you pick a seat and wait for production to start.

The place is abuzz and you don't need to wait long. You specifically wanted to wait until they started recording so she couldn't back out beforehand. Eventually the cameras are rolling. The anchors start their reports and you get to work.

You grab a pair of scissor and kneel down behind your target. As expected, she's wearing a short skirt, all the easier to give you access. Not worrying about her feeling you, you grab a hold of her panties and, with a few well placed cuts, free her of them.

You sit back a moment and admire the natural blush in her cheeks and look of panic in her face as she whips her head back and forth, looking for the now lost undergarments.

With surgical precision, you slip the scissors down the back of her blouse and break the back of her bra. Her body immediately tenses when you do. "No, no, no, no, no..." she whispers. With much less grace, you pull the remnants of the bra up through her collar and discard it out of sight.

She's good, you have to admit. Sweat is beading on her head and her knees are practically shaking, but she doesn't give herself away. Well, yet, anyways. Now, it's time to prime the pump, as they say.

Sidling up behind her again, you start gently massaging her breasts and tweaking her nipples. You let one hand roam down her front to find its way under her skirt. You tease her clit and rub the insides of her pussy lips.

When the hint of moisture starts to find your fingertips, you hear from the anchor's desk, "...and now here's Abbey with the weather. Abbey?"

Ever the consummate professional, Abbey smiles for the camera and waves her hand across the wall behind her. "Th-thanks, Don. As you can see, we have the some moisture heading our way. It's likely to turn down south and into some showers." Perfect.

"Up north, we're experiencing some high pressure -oh!" You give her breasts a rough squeeze. You quickly unzip yourself and free your rapidly stiffening member. Placing your hands on her hips, you yank her back towards you and thrust up. You manage to slip into her pussy and she can't help but let out a gasp.

"I mean...we're expecting some storms this week. Let's look at the forecast...*gasp*" You bend her over completely and thrust to your hilt. Pumping with abandon now, you've finally managed to break her composure. Barely held in moans and the wet sound of flesh slapping flesh fill the studio.

The poor girl is still trying. "On Monday, ungh, we're um...going to get some clouds. Hunh, mmmm. Tuesday, we may see a few flashes." As if on cue, you slide her shirt up over her breasts and squeeze. "Wet...wet...I mean, Wednesday, hnngh! Ah! Thursday, we're going to take a pounding...mmm...Friday, come, come, coming, OH! I mean, can't wait for the weekend, right?" Her face is bright red at this point. Sweat is making her hair mat to her forehead. "But...ah," you slap her ass. "Um, ah, Saturday and Sunday the sun is going to come OUT!" you pull free of her wet folds and spin her around to face you.

Before she can say anything else, you grab her hair and pull her down onto your cock. In order to keep her balance, she drops into a squat. You roughly thrust into her mouth, you're already close. A few more thrusts from you and wet, coughing gags from her puts you over the edge. You grab one of her wildly flaying hands and wrap it around your shaft just as you pull out. Using her hand, you jerk yourself to a finish. Completely confused and **** for air, Abbey just sits there, mouth wide open, as you paint her face with rope after rope of your sticky, white man goo.

"Well, Abbey," you hear from across the room, "that certainly...looks...like fun. And now to sports!"