"For Michelle Bannister I'm Scott Sandstone, good night."
Immediately after the red light darkened Michelle stopped the fierce hand job she had been unleashing on Scott throughout the entire 11:00 broadcast and began to orally pleasure the middle-aged anchor while manipulating his scrotum.
"We have to stop doing this," Scott muttered "someone's going to figure out what you're doing and we'll both be on the chopping block."
Scott had known Michelle was a nymphomaniac for some time, she performed every act of sexual gratification imaginable within the tope walls of the WNAR studio. No employee dare say anything- they knew it was only a matter of days at the most that they would be in Scott's position, who was now gagged and tied to the anchor desk while Michelle rode him like Ace Ventura in the Consulate General's car. Though each man who took his turn with Michelle was left satisfied; she was listlessness, devoid of passion. This dispassionate look was observed by the empathetic and tender Andrew Schnatter.
Andrew, or, "homo" as he was affectionately known to the rest of the staff refrained from being ravaged by Michelle, for reasons unclear to everyone save for himself. Andrew knew how he felt about Michelle, and sure, he had a great desire to be sexually obliterated by her, but Andrew felt a deep emotional connection with her as well. His desires were so strong that the thought of a once-and-done sexual encounter with her was as repellant as never being able to hold her in his flabby, ample arms or to having her wipe the sweat generated simply from rising from a chair from his brow. His longing had been tortured by her exploits for the three years he had been with WNAR after graduating from Marywood University with a degree in Radio/Television Communication.
Even though the events that broke Andrew's heart were always instigated by Michelle herself, members of the staff were always intruding. Andrew now watched in horror as chief meteorologist Sam Smitz sauntered to the news desk and casually proceeded to urinate on and around the intertwined co-anchors. As the clear warm liquid wet the pair Michelle's nipples began to harden and she, seemingly incensed by the presence of the urine, began to take things to a new level. It looked as though Scott's pelvis would soon shatter and the look of pleasure than once lied peacefully on his face had changed to a wincing pain and horror that he was too proud to indulge. Should he remove Michelle from his piece he could suffer the same ostracism as "homo," which was a future he was not willing to contemplate. He remained. Immediately one could see Michelle sink closer to the desk and the crimson blood leak from Scott's anus. The vaginal force exerted on Scott's tender frame had caused his coccyx to puncture his rectum. Naturally Michelle became disinterested as the blood that maintained Scott's erection was now dripping on to the floor, dancing gently around the Newswatch 16 logo etched in glass over the conservative mahogany desk. And so she retrieved her clothes from the area around the desk and began to put herself together, leaving Scott wallowing in his pain and left the studio.
Hopeful interns began to prompt her with opportunities for intercourse as she seductively yet sternly made her way to her 2004 Nissan Altima, her hips swung like a pendulum from left to right, undulating with a sensuality that could bring men to their knees. She refused each boy with a gentleness not seen in her previously and started her car with the entire crew watching her leave. Meanwhile Andrew skulked to his car, a rusted out 1990 Ford Fiesta and was showered in catapult-launched baggies of dog-shit sent care of an over-zealous Sam Smitz who wore a World War 2 era bomber jacket, aviator goggles and had a wet cigar clinched in his teeth.
As he pulled away Andrew could see in his rearview mirror the maintenance crew catch Sam with a snare pole. Sam bobbed, weaved, and swung at his captors courageously but was brought down by a cattle prod to the back of his leg and hauled into the company-owned patty wagon which brought him to and from his cell; many miles from the station. While hypnotized by this affair Andrew failed to notice the car stopped in front of him and hit the bumper of the other automobile, causing virtually no damage to the other but badly denting his American-made compact car. Andrew saw the door open and prepared himself to be harangued but noticed a slender leg with black stockings preempt the succulent body of the object of his desires, Michelle Bannister. Her look, until she noticed Andrew was one that had hit her car, could turn a person to stone. However, once she noticed the unassuming man sitting behind the wheel of the automobile was none other than the quiet sports anchor from her workplace her grimace lightened and a smile crept to her face as she batted her eyes to the ground.
She crept to the driver side and signaled for Andrew to wind down the window. With a large gulp he proceeded to rotate the handle and looked into Michelle's oceanic eyes.
"Why did you do that?" Michelle whispered
"I-I-uh-I'm sorry Michelle, I was looking back at Smitz getting hauled away i-it was pretty weird, he put up a good fight this time"
