Getting the Job: Carol Kirkwood Part 4: Panty Fetish

By Imorol

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story for adult entertainment purposes.

Now, to the story…

Carol Kirkwood stood by one of several practice courts at the All-England Tennis Club, better known as Wimbledon. With her last weather forecast complete, she had decided to watch some of the fit young athletes. Currently her attention was focused on a mixed doubles game.

Bending over in her white tennis outfit, a busty blonde was flashing her tight white shorts. A puzzled look on her face, Carol felt the woman looked familiar, but spectating from behind, she couldn’t see her face.

Carol’s own outfit was an ankle-length pink dress, featuring numerous small heart shapes in black. Her large boobs were snug in the top of the tightly clinging garment, an unusual amount of cleavage on display. Below her chest, the dress hugged her torso smoothly down to her waist. At her hips, the pink dress became much looser, flaring out as it followed the curves of her wide hips before dropping all the way to her ankles. It swayed freely with her movements. On her feet were comfortable white trainers, incongruous with the dress.

Not having much time when broadcasting outside, Carol’s hair and makeup were rather basic and functional. Her blonde hair was pinned up in the back, with a few loose strands framing her face. Pale pink lipstick decorated her lips and just a touch of massacre darkened her eyes.

As she watched the sexy younger blonde moving around the court, she felt someone standing next to her. Carol smiled over at her producer, Trevor Whitlow, before returning her attention to the court, watching the tennis player’s sexy bum wiggling, her big boobs jiggling.

‘She’s got a lovely pair of tits, and a great arse,’ Trevor said. ‘Not as big as your tits, or as juicy as this arse,’ he added, running a hand over Carol’s backside, giving it a squeeze.

Holding still, she let her boss grope her. It was part of the agreement she had with him. It was how she remained the face of British weather forecasting on the BBC.

After a moment of feeling up the sexy Scot, the BBC producer said, ‘Carol, I’ve arranged your radio appearances as you requested. Now it’s your turn to satisfy me.’

‘Ah, thank you, Trevor. What would you like me to do?’ she asked, turning from the tennis match to look at the man. The fingers of his roaming hand pushed their way into the crevice of her covered rear, giving her a wedgie. I’m sure I can guess, she wondered.

‘Come with me,’ he said. With that, he led the sexy mature blonde through a nearby set of double doors and entered an empty changing room. ‘We should have some privacy in here while that match goes on,’ he said, looking around.

‘Trevor, did you recognise that blonde tennis player? She looked familiar but I couldn’t see her face.’

‘No, I didn’t see her face either,’ the man replied. However, his focus was on Carol’s cleavage. The deep crease looked ever so inviting.

‘Hmm. Anyway, what would you like to do?’ Carol asked again, smiling as she saw where her producer was staring.

Hand on his crotch, squeezing his hard bulge, Trevor continued to drink in the sight of Carol’s gorgeous bust. ‘I want…I want you to just stand over there,’ he pointed, ‘in the middle of the room.’ After she had moved, he added, ‘Ok, just stand still while I touch you and smell you.’

Familiar with her producer’s kinks, Carol did as instructed. She stood in the middle of the empty changing room, arms by her sides, feet shoulder-width aside. All thoughts of the blonde tennis player were forgotten.

Moving behind Carol, the man placed his hands on her hips. Holding her tightly, he moved his body closer to hers, pressing his cock bulge against her bum. Moving his own hips, he manoeuvred the lump in his trousers into the crevice of the woman’s sexy big arse. Teasing himself, he ground against the soft pliant flesh. His trousers rasped against her dress, adding to his excitement.

Slowly, his hands moved from Carol’s hips. Fingers leading the way, he felt around her waist, finding and tracing the hidden band of her knickers. Oh yes, she’s wearing support briefs again. Fuck, I discover her knickers sexy, he wondered as he pressed his cock harder against the Scot’s rear.

Looking over her shoulder, the BBC producer happily took in the view down the top of her dress. Carol’s milky white cleavage was big and bountiful, jiggling with her breathing. From his angle, Trevor could see her tit mounds fairly overflowing a lacy white bra that strained to hold them in.

‘If I could get away with it Carol, I’d show your sexy boobs in every broadcast,’ he said breathily into her ear. ‘Hmm, we really must try to show more of your stunning cleavage on screen.’

A shudder of excitement ran through Carol at his words. Despite the things she had done to maintain her position at the BBC, she still considered herself conservative by nature, demure. However, part of her delighted in the wondered of millions of viewers, eyes glues to their television sets as they stared at her boobs. Hidden by the cups of her brassiere, she felt her nipples stiffening, pushing against the restraining garment. Between her legs, a heat started to create.

Glazed eyes locked onto the rise and fall of the sexy chest, Trevor let one of his hands move upwards. Slowly, it stroked up over Carol’s waist, fingertips brushing over the soft cloth of her pink dress. Palm cupping the underside of the swollen tit, his fingers moved up, caressing Carol’s chest through her clothing. Gently, he squeezed, feeling her warm soft mound. His other hand repeated the journey until the TV executive had both large tits in his hands.

Standing behind Carol Kirkwood, the man ground his crotch against her bum. Arms reaching around her body, his hands grasped her gigantic juggs, groping them through the woman’s dress. Eyes watching as his hands manipulated the large mammaries, lifting them, squeezing them. He planted little kisses on Carol’s neck, his lips tasted her skin, felt her racing pulse.

Despite herself, Carol could feel her heart beating faster. Her boobs felt like they were swelling as the man continued to molest them. A dull ache had started in her ripe nipples as strong fingers repeatedly brushed over them. Behind, she could feel his hard cock pressing against her, rubbing along the cleft of her bum. In her knickers, Carol could feel her pussy swelling, felt moisture begin to gather. A slow throbbing pulsed from her clitoris, small spikes of pleasure teasing her.

‘Mm, nice,’ Carol murmured.

Smiling, the producer continued to grope his star’s gigantic boobs. Even through her dress and bra, he could feel her nipples pressing outwards. From past experience he knew they were large, sensitive. Fully cupping Carol’s tits, he pulled her back against him, hard. He heard her moan again as his hands crushed her gigantic bust against her chest. Her cleavage grew, forced together and pressed upwards by his hands.

‘Damn, I love your wench cleavage,’ he groaned into her ear.

‘Hmm, feels so good. Squeeze my boobs, tease them. Please,’ Carol almost begged, unable to remain quiet.

Grinning, her producer obliged. His hands continued to grope the sexy Scot, mauling her gigantic juggs. Fingers squeezed as the hands moved in circles, the motion stimulating the hidden teats. They moved up and down and pressed her tits repeatedly against her chest.

‘Yes,’ Carol sighed. I love having them played with.

Feeling the throbbing of his dick getting stronger, Trevor realised that he had to stop grinding his crotch against Ms Kirkwood. If I don’t I’m going to cum in my pants. Reluctantly, he let his hands move back down her body, away from those gorgeous tits and back to her waist.

Taking a step back, he dropped to his knees behind the presenter. Directly in front of him was Ms Kirkwood’s rear, the sexy curves and deep crevice highlighted by her thin dress. Still holding the woman’s hips, Trevor pressed his face against Carol’s bum, forcing his nose into her crease. Inhaling deeply, he sniffed at Carol Kirkwood’s arse.

Oh fuck, she smells so good, he wondered, huffing away between her clothed cheeks, smelling her body. Face burrowing deeper, he tried to seek out her hidden arsehole, desiring to smell more of her.

‘Oh that’s nasty,’ Carol giggled in her sexy Scottish accent. ‘Yes, Trevor, sniff my bum. Go deeper, smell me.’ She felt vibrations from the man’s mouth as he moaned into her behind. Mm, that feels nice.

Wanting more, needing more, the BBC Breakfast producer dropped his hands to the hem of the dress. Too excited for a teasing reveal, he quickly lifted the dress, all the way up to display Carol’s white knickers, only a few inches from his flushed, hot face.

Holding the dress up, the kneeling Trevor greedily drank in the sight of Carol Kirkwood’s knickers. The cotton clung tightly to the Scot’s bum. Smooth and fucking sexy. Immediately in front of his eyes, he saw the stitching at the rear of her gusset. Heart beating hard, he imagined the pussy that was right at this moment just the other side of the cotton panel. He imagined the lips, folds, the juices and cream leaking from it, staining her gusset just inches from his nose. Gaze roaming, he noted the feminine design of the underwear, the subtly sexy panties covering the woman tightly.

Hands moving back over to the wide hips, he continued to hold the dress up and out of the way. With a moan of desire, he pressed forward again. This time his face was buried in the soft cotton of Ms Kirkwood’s panties. Adding more pressure, he drove his nose between her cheeks, seeking out her arsehole once more. But now the scent was heightened. Through the gusset, he could smell Carol’s pussy as well, could scent the juice leaking from her, knew it was soaking into her underwear.

With a deep gasp, Britain’s favourite weather girl felt her producer sniffing her arse. Felt him pressing his face into her knickers hard, his nose digging for her bum hole, snuffling at her gusset. Unable to stop herself, she pressed back. Now she felt her buttocks flex, parting. Oh my, she wondered as the ridge of his nose fell deeper into her cleft.

For several minutes, Trevor remained with his face deep in Carol Kirkwood’s bum. Happily he sniffed the scents coming from her dark hole and her pink slit. The aroma’s passing through her knickers. As he continued to sample her delights, his hands ran up and down her shapely thighs, electricity sparking from her and into his fingertips and palms. The dress fell down, enclosing him in a warm world consisting of nothing but Ms Kirkwood’s firm round bum. He felt the mature blonde pressing back against him, urging him deeper, offering up her smell.

Needing to breath, the man pulled back but quickly started planting kisses all over Carol’s covered rump. For several more minutes he kissed the Scot’s arse, moving his lips all over it and delighting in the feel of her warm soft panties against his face. Overcome with an animalistic urge, Trevor rubbed his cheeks against the white cotton like a cat.

Face flushed and hot, he finally pulled himself out from under the dress. Fresh air felt good on his cheeks, but the smell of Carol Kirkwood was still strong in his nose.

‘Christ, I love the smell of your arse, Carol,’ he declared, happy smile on his face.

Looking over her shoulder, Carol giggled before saying, ‘Thank you. I’m glad you like sniffing my bum.’ She giggled again. ‘I wonder, is there anything else you’d like to sniff?’ she asked, her tone teasing. She knew what her producer would do next.

As if on command, the man grabbed her by the hips and forced her to turn her body around. ‘Lift your dress, Carol,’ he said, his voice husky with excitement.

Obeying his command, the BBC presenter raised the garment. Slowly, she revealed her shapely legs to his willing gaze, his eyes following the rising hem. Peering over her swollen bosom, she smiled down at him, turned up by his desire for her. As she uncovered the front of her knickers, she heard a gasp escape him before it turned into a moan of lust.

Licking his lips, Trevor stared at Carol Kirkwood’s crotch. Her tight white knickers hugged the mound of her cunt. Soft cotton bulged as her quim swelled with her arousal. A clearly defined cleft could be seen, the soft pants conforming to the hot sticky flesh beneath. Damn, Carol’s got the sexiest camel toe I’ve ever seen, he wondered, glazed eyes focussing on the sight. And she’s wet. A growing line of moisture marked the knickers, spreading across the reinforced panel of the gusset.

With a moan of animalistic need, the man pressed his face into Carol’s crotch. Tilting his head, he forced himself against the soft cotton, the heated flesh beneath. A strong scent of horny creaming pussy assailed him, filled his nose. I can taste it in the back of my throat, he wondered, sniffing hard, drawing in the scent, the taste.

Breathing hard, chest heaving, the Scottish woman felt the man pressed against her knickers. Felt the face buried in her crotch. Heat radiated from her pussy, convulsions running up and down her tunnel. With a hitch of her breath, Carol Kirkwood gasped as she felt her pussy creaming, the slick pulsing sensation as she leaked her cream into her underwear even as her boss rubbed his face in her gusset.

‘Oh, oh my god,’ she sighed, feeling pleasure rippling out from between her legs. Reaching down a hand, she grabbed Trevor by the back of his head. With all her strength, she pulled his face harder into her crotch. At the same time Carol pressed her hips forward, determined to force his head deeper and cum in his face.

Needing more than just the smell of his presenter, the executive started mouthing the steaming gusset. Closing his lips, he sucked at Carol’s wet knickers, drawing her strong flavour out, savouring it as the taste excited his tongue. Taste buds on fire, he stuck his tongue out, lapping at the smelly wet cotton in his face. Probing, the tongue explored up and down the camel toe. Lips covering his teeth, he nipped at the hard nub of the panting woman’s clitoris, eliciting moans from her.

Carol Kirkwood, stood in an empty changing room at Wimbledon. Pink and black dress raised up, white knickers exposed. Before her, her boss on his knees, face pressed hard into her crotch, her hand wrapped in his hair, forcing him deeper. Body convulsing, her hips juddering. From her parted pink lips panting moans issued and, her blonde hair shining as her head fell back. The Scottish weather presenter mewls and groans as she cums in her panties. Thick rich cream gushing between the flaps of her hidden fanny. Moisture soaking her knickers, the sodden material sticking to the man’s face as he sucks the cotton, inhales her aroma and moans in delight.

Finally pulling away from Carol’s spasming body, her producer gasped for breath. Glazed eyes looking up, he saw the weather girl panting, sexy tits heaving as she fought to catch her own breath. Unsteadily getting to his feet, Trevor stared at the heaving cleavage. Without ceremony, he pushed his face against the hot skin framed by the pink dress, held up by the lacy white bra. Sweaty flesh met his lips. Burrowing into the crease, his tongue licked the boobs, tasting the salty skin.

Closing her eyes, Ms Kirkwood let the man kiss and lick her tits. Breathing heavy still, she could smell her cum wafting from his hot breath on her skin. Her dress still raised in front, the way was clear for a questing hand to make contact with her heated, soaking knickers. Carol moaned as rough fingers traced the groove made by her split fanny. More moisture was imparted into the cotton as the fingers probed, pushing against her, seeking entry.

Behind, she felt his other hand make its way back under her dress. Fingers grabbed her arse, squeezing hard, kneading the firm flesh. Another moan escaped her parted lips as Carol felt the hand in her crotch and the hand on her arse pressing into her, pushing towards one another and pinching her between them. Pressure quickly built up within her again as a finger found its way into her wanton fanny, forcing her knickers into a deeper camel toe. His palm was pressed against her clit, grinding against the hard sensitive bud.

‘Oh, I’m gonna…urgh!’ Carol let go of her dress. Wrapping her arms around her producer, she humped her quivering snatch against his probing finger, his pressing hand. Riding his fingers sliding along her slit, she brought herself to another climax. Gasping and moaning into the man’s shoulder, she felt her cunt convulsing again, felt more slick cream spurting from her.

As the sexy mature blonde came down from her climax, her producer grabbed her knickers and hauled them down her legs. Spinning her around, he pressed Carol Kirkwood forward, her hands landing on a wooden bench. The Scot was bent over at her waist, her pink and black dress thrown up over her back, cream-filled knickers around her knees. Waving in the air, her round firm white arse was presented. Beneath, her sopping cunt, lips slick with her cum, open and ready.

Needing his own release, Trevor quickly dropped his trousers. Stepping up to Carol’s presented backside, he pressed his pre-cum dripping cock to the blonde beauty’s fanny and shoved. Slick walls greedily accepted the penetration, letting him push deep into Ms Kirkwood. Grabbing her hips, the man starts to pound in and out of the moaning Scot. Slick cream soon coated his thrusting cock.

Carol Kirkwood’s moans filled the empty changing room. The sound was met with wet squelching as she was fucked hard, the man’s prick driving into her, over and over. Panting breaths joined in as the man rutted against her, his body slamming into her upturned arse, her cheeks rippling delightfully with each impact.

‘Oh, fuck Carol, you’re so wet, so hot. Christ, I love fucking you,’ Trevor called out, continuing to fuck his presenter, his hands gripping her hips tighter, pulling her back to meet each thrust. ‘Ugh, here…here it comes,’ he growled.

Jamming her body backwards, Carol impaled herself just as the man erupted. Grunting, she felt the man’s sperm shooting into her. Hips rocking, she stroked her cunt along the embedded prick, felt the hot knob sliding through her convulsing quim. Already wet, she moaned as more slick wetness filled her with each throb and pulse as more and more spunk jetted up inside her twitching snatch.

Groaning through gritted teeth, Trevor buried himself deep inside Carol Kirkwood. Body pressed tight against her soft white bum, he held himself in her clutching quim. His balls pumped themselves dry, sending their full load into her.

Finally empty, the TV producer slowly dragged his cock from the dripping, cum-filled hole between Ms Kirkwood’s legs. He collapsed onto the bench, landing hard on his backside. Carol fell to her knees on the floor, arms resting on the wood slats as she tried to catch her breath. Beneath, her still covered tits pressed into the cool surface, her cleavage spilling through her neckline.

Looking over, the Scottish star saw the slowly shrinking cock that had just defiled her. Coated in pearly white semen and thick cream from her body, it shone in the room’s light. Sluggishly, Carol leaned over. Opening her mouth, she took the slick tool between her lips. Gently, she sucked her boss, savouring the cocktail of their mingled cum.

‘Mm, delicious,’ she mumbled before running her tongue up and down the shaft. Enjoying the spicy hot and salty flavour, she returned the prick between her lips and gently sucked it some more.

‘Damn, Carol. That wasn’t what I had in mind but I couldn’t help myself. Your arse got me so worked up. Your smell. Your taste. Feeling you up and groping your tits!’