Karen was grateful there had been a lunch break after they had finished taping the show that had been interrupted. It had given her a chance to recuperate from the morning's fuckings. She had drunk most of her lunch.
Now she sat behind the podium, the warm glow of the liquor conning through her veins. Mingling with it was a simmering dedication to the downfall of the oozing MC, his assistant, the producer, the ad man, and anyone else who got in her way. Overriding everything was a hot horniness that was making her cunt drool in anticipation.
Because of the changed schedule, there was only a minuscule live audience just a few ghastly faces beyond the bright lights. Probably they were the handpicked cronies of the producer. Everyone seemed to be anticipating an orgiastic ending to the day.
Little did they know just how orgiastic it was going to be. Karen was ready and loose, her snatch honed and ready. Every time she caught sight of Bernstein, back in the control room, her lust and fury boiled higher.
At the beginning of the lunch break, he had tried to get her to go up to the control room, but she had refused. She had managed to do it so that, instead of getting mad, he was looking forward to a hot time later. He had suggested she find a bra to wear. She had looked down at her chest and jiggled her titties up and down gently. It was very arousing, the way her knockers joggled. Her tits burned against her blouse. She had ignored his suggestion about the bra.
Now, as the final show was taped, she was firing off the answers confidently. Her opponent seemed stunned, and more interested in the lush curves of her figure than anything else. Well, he could have a shot at her, too, when it was all over. He deserved a consolation prize, Karen decided.
She felt her partner sliding his hand up under her skirt, and let her legs ease open. His fingers slid into her hot, oozing twat while the glassy eyes of a camera focused on her smiling face. Indulgently, she let the out-of-work actor pump his fingers in her dripping cunt. Then she eased a hand over into his lap. He grinned at her, as if he was proud of her for answering a question. What he was grinning about, really, was her grip on his pecker. She had freed it from his pants.
Pretending to scratch her throat, Karen unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. She could feel the hot eye of a TV camera on her. She thought of stripping naked in front of millions of watchers, and her cunt spewed hot lust. She squirmed in her chair. Her excitement built as she let herself be fondled, while she stroked the lean prick of her celebrity partner. Her tits were hard and hot and more sensitive than a safecracker's fingertips as they stroked the sensuous weave of her blouse.
Peter Sandier looked at her expectantly, waiting for her answer. His eyes lighted on her generous titties, the gap in her blouse. The suave MC wallowed hard, licked his lips. His prick surged to prominence in his tight pants. Karen saw the producer say something to the director, saw the director relay it to someone else. The cameraman that covered Sandier nodded, grinned slightly, and domed in closer to the host. The word had been passed, evidently, to cut Sandier off at the waist so his hard-on wouldn't be broadcast coast to cost. At the same time, a longer lens had been rotated into position on the camera covering Karen, taking just her head, cutting off the opening in her blouse and her titties.
Karen unbuttoned another button, the one well below her tits. She let the blouse open to show the inner curves of her generous jugs. She felt the heat of the lights on the valley between her knockers. She sensed the erotic tensions created by her calculated display, and her twat began to boil.
Bernstein said something to the technical director, who shook his head. Bernstein picked up a phone and talked heatedly into it, then slammed it don and yelled something at the director. The camera moved in still closer on Karen and Sandier. Karen realized suddenly that she was getting help she hadn't expected. Obviously, Bernstein had wanted to stop the taping, but someone down in videotape had refused. There were no more commercials scheduled, either. The taping had to go on, no matter what she did!
Karen fought down a tight chuckle. She wondered how they were going to show the flashing numbers that recorded her score. The numbers were on her podium. To show them they would have to show more of her than the Federal Communications System would allow, because she had just unbuttoned the last button on her blouse.
She watched the MC's eyes bulge out as she eased the blouse back off her shoulders. She took a deep breath. Her titties rose and fell as she breathed. Her opponent looked like he was about to faint. His actress partner looked frankly envious.
Without batting an eye, without giving a hint of the lust that was raging through her, Karen answered the last question. The director managed to key the right sound and light effects, and Karen was bathed in a psychedelic eruption. She began unfastening her skirt. The actor sitting beside her was the only one who could see what she was doing, and he looked like he couldn't believe his eyes.
Peter Sandier was looking around frantically, hoping for direction. At this point in a normal taping he had the winner stand beside him. Then the wheel of fortune was spun for the jackpot. Desperately, he looked at the control booth, hoping for an indication of what he was supposed to do. He couldn't ask her to get up. She was naked to her waist! Right there, in front of the cameras and a live studio audience.
Karen was aware of a desperate flurry in the control room. Bernstein was hiding his head in his hands. The director's eyes were fastened on her naked titties. The technical director was the calmest one in the glass booth. The ad man was grinning hotly and expectantly at her.
Finally, not knowing what else to do, Sandier announced she was the winner and called her over to the wheel of fortune. Karen smiled. Her smile was hot with lust, cold with cruelty. She stood up, and her skirt fell around her ankles. Gracefully, she stepped out of her skirt, then out from behind the podium. She was wearing only her smile, her make-up, and her sandals.
Some when backstage, something dropped with a loud clatter. Shanda McAleer leaned back against the set. It swayed ominously. Karen's opponent's eyes were as big as saucers. She caroused in front of him, her titties joggling enticingly. Her pussy was steaming with lust as the hot lights burned her naked cunt.
The blank eyes of the cameras followed her with moronic devotion, focusing on her head only. She thought Sandier was going to have a heart attack.
And still the show went on. Karen kept expecting to hear a bellow from the control room, but there was nothing. Her guts were a puddle of boiling lust. She was burning up with excitement. All those eyes on her naked body! She could see vaguely that the audience was on their feet, leaning forward, watching her. She pond for them. She was proud of her sensuous curves, her generous tilt, the swell of her hips, the lush brown of her muff.
Sandier stood like a statue. She eased up next to him and guided his arm around bet naked waist. She nuzzled his chest with one of her big tits. She grinned up at him, and stroked his prick through his pants, then managed to get his fly open and free his pecker.
The MC was frantically hurrying through the closing routine of the show, desperately clinging to the carefully memorized lines. He explained the wheel while Shanda stood there next to it like a mindless mannequins. Her eyes kept returning to Karen's wanton display, a searing hunger in her looks.
The wheel turned and the lights fished. Karen jiggled with excitement. Her titty rubbed against the MC's chest, and she squeezed his cock in her hot little hand. For a few moments, most of the attention in the studio was on the rotating, rigged game of chance. Her twat drooling, Karen watched the wheel spin. The pie wedges of light flashed garishly, the ring of lights around the outside flickered crazily. It began to slow, and Karen held her breath.
Whoever was controlling the wheel backstage eased it to a stop right at the jackpot. She had won ten thousand dollars! Karen leaped and jumped, and wrapped her arms and legs around the staggering master of ceremonies. His cock slammed into her cunt as she hugged him against her naked body. She ground her snatch against him, and felt his pecker stir in her streaming cunt. She scraped her tender, aroused titties against his rough suit.
While she fucked herself on him, right there on stage, the man frantically tried to close the show. He was hanging onto his microphone with maniacal desperation. Karen's opponent heaved himself up from his chair as the closing lines were read. Coming up behind her, his prick out and ready, he spiked Karen's ass with his cock.
The unlubricated penetration of her bung made Karen shriek with pain. Then the pain faded, was replaced by searing pleasure. Pinned between two men, she had pricks in her cunt and her bring. With the glaring lights still burning down on her, she let herself be taken by two men simultaneously. She let them support her full weight between them.
The three of them tumbled to the stage when Shanda slammed into them. Peter Sandier's hard-on ripped free of Karen's cunt, but she didn't care. She still had her opponent's cock up her butt. Brutally, she shoved Sandier away. He was aroused and unsatisfied but she didn't care. She let the man corn-holing her slam his towering prick deep into her burning winkie. Spreading her legs wide, she displayed the man's rear penetration to the camera, to the sweating faces of the audience.
The man pistoning his prick in her tail thrust again, deeper. She felt his pecker leaping and jerking, felt come hosing her brownie. Karen heaved in the grip of her own flaming orgasm as the man filled her with jism.
When his twitchings finally began to fade, and she felt his dick shrinking, she twisted off of him. As her winkie snapped shut, a dribble of come escaped, and burned her tail. She was the center of attention. She was the object of Peter Sandier's lust, of Shanda McAleer's lesbian horniness, the target of her celebrity partner's stabbing prick, and the fury and crude lust of the producer, who had come thundering down from the control booth.
With a wrench Karen yanked free of their grabbing hands and backed up against the round disk of the wheel of fortune. She felt the axle dig into her naked back. Like an animal at bay, she bared her teeth at them. They all froze.
"You want me," she hissed. "You all want me, don't you?" She didn't need a spoken answer how much they wanted her was in their eyes, in their stiff pricks, in their reaching hands. They were hungry for her lush, naked body.
"You all want me, don't you?" She laughed. "Well, you used me. And now, by God, I'm going to use you."
"Mrs. Calder?" the producer stammered. He was sweating badly.
"Karen," Peter Sandier croaked. His prick was still glistening with her juices.
"Shut up," she snapped. "One more word from any of you and I'll blow the whistle on this shabby little operation of yours."
They knew she meant it, and refrained from grabbing her.
"What do you want?" Bernstein whispered.
Karen grinned at him. It wasn't a pleasant grin. "Give me one of your cigars," she said calmly.
Fumbling desperately, the man pulled out one of his thick stogies. Karen glanced at it. Intriguingly, it was from Cuba. Delicately, she twirled the cigar in her fingers.
"Now, take off your clothes," she ordered softly. She was steaming with lust.
"But…"
"Don't argue," she warned. "It's not as if I haven't seen you naked before. Remember?"
With a shudder, under the hot, staring eyes of the crowd, the producer began to undress. His hands shook as he bared his blocky, hard body. His stubby cock was swollen and bloated.
Karen sucked on the cigar thoughtfully, as if it was a cock. "Now, turn around and bend over," she said softly.
The sweating producer shuddered again, and turned. Looking back over his shoulder at her, he slowly bent at the waist. Karen put a hand on his back and pushed, until his hands hit the floor. His fat ass thrust back at her.
With a theatrical flourish, she waved the spit-slicked cigar. She carefully spread his asscheeks with the fingers of her other hand. While everyone looked on, aghast and aroused, she set the tip of the cigar on the brown, hair-fringed pucker of the producer's asshole. Her teeth bared in a delighted snarl, Karen slowly pushed the cigar into the man's resisting bung. Bit by bit, she augured the roll of tobacco up into the tight, clenched winkie. She watched his crap gate twinge as it was invaded, watched his shit lock wink and wink.
She loved the expressions that played over the producer's seamed face. The horror had been diluted first with pain. Then, as the cigar drilled deeper up his dirt road, there was a hot sheen of pleasure on his sweating features. Against his will, he was enjoying being buggered by one of his prize Havanas.
Karen didn't stop until two thirds of the cigar was in his hard butt. Then she paused, letting everyone see the producer's tobacco-buggery. She reached between the man's hairy thighs and wrapped her hand around his stocky cock. She began to jack him off, as she slid the cigar in and out of his clinging butt. While everyone watched, she jerked his whang and fucked his bung. And everyone could see just how much he was enjoying it.
It didn't take long for his come to be spattering the stage with a thick, creamy rain. Karen twisted the cigar in his tail as she milked the hot flood from his pecker. The producer groaned in ecstasy as he hunched over in front of her. His buttocks clenched as he squeezed out the last trickles of jizz. They strung down from his dick toward the stage.
Then he slumped in a wheezing heap. He curled up with the cigar sticking obscenely out his rear. His crapper got itself into gear, and the brown cylinder slowly slid out of his tail. He shuddered and moaned.
Peter Sandier muttered something angrily, and instantly regretted it when Karen's attention shifted to him.
"Come here," she ordered softly.
Like a rabbit hypnotized by a snake, the dapper MC obeyed. His cock swaying and bobbing from his gaping fly, he approached her meekly. His lust pole had been rammed into her snatch once already, then yanked out before it could erupt.
Delicately, she reached down and stroked the underside of his dick. She could feel oily oozings on his hot meat.
"Eat me," she ordered the master of ceremonies. Like a puppet, he dropped to his knees in front of her. She spread her legs and thrust her pussy at him. She combed her twat with her fingers, showed him her glistening snatch. He licked his lips and moved toward her. She felt his hot breath on her twat. He nuzzled his face into her cunt. She rubbed her pussy against his face.
"My cunt," she ordered. "Put your tongue in my cunt."
She felt his tongue burrow into her hot hole, wiggle, felt him suck up her hot juices. Grabbing his curly hair, she jammed his face deep into her snatch. Waves of fire raged up through her as he explored her twat.
She felt another hot, biological need swelling in her belly, and felt her lust roar higher at the thought. It was so delightfully suitable! Just perfect for the meticulously groomed stud kneeling and munching on her cunt. She had to do it, she just had to. She used her grip on the man's curly locks to drag his face out of her snatch. His nose, cheeks and chin were slick and shining with juices. He looked up at her, lust and adoration in his eyes.
Keeping one hand twined in his hair, she used the fingers of her other to part her cunt lips. Humping her hips forward, she squeezed down inside herself, and a hot jet of piss shot into his adoring face. He didn't even try to pull away! His eyes closed against the hot, aromatic spatter, he let her cover him with piss. Swinging her hips, she hosed his handsome face with urine. She covered his eyes, his cheeks, his nose, even his mouth. He lapped up the flood of pee. It stained the shoulders of his jacket, drenched his necktie and his shirt, dribbled off his chin, spilled down onto his pants and naked prick.
The man's abject enjoyment of the vile humiliation was a real turn-on. She was giving him more pleasure than he had ever experienced in his life. He was jerking off while the hot stream played over his face, ran down his body, soaked his clothes. Then his cock was erupting, spraying the stage, spattering Karen's feet and ankles with thick cream. Her pissing faded, spurted, then died completely. Still his pecker lurched and spouted, added its load to the one left by the producer. Bernstein was now sitting like a dazed Buddha, staring at the soiled cigar in his hand.
With a jerk, Karen forced Sandier's mouth back to her twat, guided him to her cunt. "Suck it," she hissed as the piss on his face smeared her snatch. He licked her twat, sucked on the hot berry of her clit. Karen was suddenly overwhelmed by an incredible coming and smothered him with her sodden twat. The pink flush of pleasure blossomed on her naked torso and she flooded his mouth with cunt cream instead of piss. She held his head in her crotch until the last quivers of her coming were gone.
Then she let him go. She pushed him away, watched him sprawl out next to the producer. The MC's clothes were soaked with piss. On his face an expression of shame mingled with one of lusty pleasure. His dick drizzled its overflow on his soiled trousers. He stared at the still-stunned naked producer.
Karen glanced over them, toward the audience, and smiled. Hanging on the edge of the stage, his face shining with it, and enjoyment, and delight, was Jake, the security man from the market. He had made it, and she was giving him a show he'd never forget.
She was about to start on Shanda, when she realized the woman had already been taken care of. Shanda, cool, beautiful Shanda, was tangled head-to-crotch with the celebrity starlet who had been Karen's opponent's partner. The two naked women were a heaving tangle of madness as they ate each other's snatches. Shanda twisted and rolled her face in the starlet's jet-black crotch, dug her tongue deep into the woman's streaming gash. Shanda's hips were heaving and bucking, smothering the other woman with twat.
This was obviously no momentary aberration on either woman's part. There was a practiced skill in their stimulation of each other. They quickly reached a flaming, simultaneous lesbian coming. Their bodies bucked and heaved on the slick, come-spattered stage. Breasts were mashed against bellies, hands were clutching asses, painted nails were digging into tender white globes. They were trying to devour each other.
Shanda ripped her mouth off the starlet's snatch. For a moment, Karen could see come on Shanda's face. Then Shanda attacked again. She hauled on the starlet's bottom, reached with her mouth. Shanda found the starlet's bung and drilled her tongue into the tight pucker. Shanda reamed the starlet's asshole with total, wanton abandon. There was a collective hot moan of lust from the audience and her fellow workers.
Karen laughed. It was a laugh loaded with cruel satisfaction and hot lust. She felt her own come-flooded bung spasm. She remembered how a tongue spearing up into her winkie felt her twat drooled hungrily at the memory. She caught the ad man's eye. He cringed as she beckoned to him.
"No," the man mumbled. "Please."
She saw the hot desire in his eyes. He knew what she wanted, and he wanted to do it. He was going to do it, and he was going to love it. "Kiss my ass," she hissed.
"No," he groaned. The one word contained pain and shame and desire all at the same time. Even as he protested, he was easing down on his knees, kneeling in the spattered puddle of jism left by the two men Karen had already subdued.
"Do it," Karen ordered. "Do it!"
"Oh, God, you, you bitch!" the man moaned hoarsely as she towered over him. She was a naked lust Goddess. "Jesus!" he groaned.
"KISS my ass," she repeated, softly, confidently. She shoved his head downward and spread her legs. The man crawled under her dripping snatch, and turned. She stuck her butt out, and felt his hands on her an, felt him part her firm globes. His breath puffed on the come left from her buggering. She felt his nose sniff her soaked tail.
Then his mouth fastened on her winkle. She braced her hands on her knees. She ground her backside against him as she felt him suck her winkle. He probed his tongue at her crapper and her lust roared upward. She felt his tongue twist slowly into her tail hole, wedge the ring open with agonizing slowness. As she fought to let him deeper, she realized his penetration was being eased by all the come swilling around inside her butt. Just as she felt his tongue twist into her rear, her star partner crawled under her and fastened his mouth to her snatch.
Chin to chin, the two men drilled her with their tongues on her cunt, the other her bung. Karen shuddered from the double tongue-fuck, and began to come. Her juice poured over the sucking, working mouth of the man in her snatch, ran back, spilled over the sucking face of the man drilling his tongue into her bung. Her coming raging through her, Karen's muscles shivered and shuddered. Her full titties jiggled and swayed.
She had done it! She had them in her power. She had ground them into the dirt with her body. And every one of them was loving it, loving the power she had over them.
She kept the two men eating at her snatch and her bung until she was shuddering with carnal exhaustion. Her twat was a solid ache it had, done so much spuming. Finally, a determined thrust sent the two men tumbling to the floor.
Suddenly, without any warning, two men grabbed her and dragged her backward across the stage. Too drained to struggle, she was barely able to keep her feet under her. At orders from the producer, the naked, swearing producer, Karen was slammed back against the garishly lighted wheel of fortune. She was urged up until she was balancing on her tiptoes.
Shaking the hair out of her face, she tried to figure out what was happening. She tried to drag her wrists free as she felt the wheel behind her shift. She looked up, and shivered. Her hands were tied to the pegs of the wheel!
When she looked at the producer, he was not pleased with the expression on her face. Instead of terror or humiliation or wariness, it was a look of searing, eager expectancy.
Teetering crazily for a desperate moment, Karen lifted one foot, found a peg for it to rest on. The wheel swung unexpectedly from the pressure, yanking her other foot sideways off the stage. She kicked, slamming the heel of that foot down on the remaining peg, and her insane daydream was a reality!
She was spread-eagled on the wheel of fortune, surrounded by glittering, flashing lights, the axle digging into her back. The wheel turned until she was right side up again, and then her feet were lashed to the pegs they were on. She was pinned to the wheel like a specimen in a collection. It was like a circus act she had seen once where a knife thrower had outlined a shapely girl with glittering blades while she was turned on a huge wheel.
Naked, spread wide, her twat streaming come, her chest heaving, Karen eyed the producer warily. The naked, stocky man studied her pose. Wit a cruel grin, he took one of her tits and pinched it until tears of pain burned her eyes. The hot flood from her twat increased.
"Now let's see who gets the next shot at the little lady," he hissed nastily. Gripping one of the pegs, he pulled on it, pulled it down and around, starting the wheel and Karen turning.
Tied to the spinning disk, under the merciless glare of the bright stage lights, Karen whirled end over end in an insane, dizzy series of cartwheels. Her hair whipped in the breeze from the centrifugal force. Behind her naked body, the pie wedges of light flashed and flickered, bathing her in crazy patterns of colored light. Around the rim of the wheel lights flickered in the opposite direction.
She was the spinning wheel of chance and the prize. Her breasts swayed and shifted arousingly with the changing tug of gravity. The bindings that held her wrists and ankles chafed her tender skin. She began to feel sick and dizzy as the wheel continued to whirl around and around.
At last the spinning of the wheel slowed. The flashing lights dimmed Karen felt the wheel slow to a stop. Unfortunately, she was upside down. She desperately clutched the pegs her wrists were lashed to. She felt her feet falling away from their pegs. The ropes holding them tightened cruelly.
"My turn," Shanda purred, coming up to Karen. She hung helplessly suspended, crotch gaping wide and upward. Her cunt was a perfect funnel for Shanda's desires.
With a purr of happiness, the slender, big-titted model nuzzled her face into Karen's twat, and bit Karen's tender, juicy folds. Karen moaned. The blood pounded in her head as pain and pleasure blued through her inverted body. She arched her spine and struggled feebly against the cruel ropes. Shanda ignored the thrashing and devoted herself to devouring Karen's gaping snatch. She raped Karen with lips and teeth and tongue. Finally, Karen was writhing dn the verge of a blackout.
There was a commotion, and suddenly the wheel was moving again, and Shanda was no longer chewing on Karen's battered twat. Hands were tearing at Karen's bonds. One arm pulled free as the wheel stopped at a new angle. Karen flapped her arm helplessly, terrified of falling. Then she was spun upright and her feet were freed, then her remaining hand. She tumbled to the stage.
A man came down on top of her, rammed his dick into her streaming cunt. She spread herself wide, welcoming the brutal raping. She bucked and heaved and tossed, and suddenly she was on top, and she was raping him. Something dug into her ass, drilled into her bung with burning pain, and pleasure. She had two cocks in her now!
Cocks pounded in her ass and cunt. Karen felt the wall between the holes stretching, threatening to shred. She didn't care if it did, because she was feeling a pleasure that made up for everything else. Someone grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. A dick was jammed against her lips, driven into her mouth. Now she had three cocks working in her. Sucking frantically on the cock in her mouth, she let her bung be reamed, her cunt get raped. She felt her body convulse madly as she came.
The cock in her butt blistered her with a towering, pulsing flood of jizz. Her butt spasmed crazily. Then that spent prick whipped out of her flooded winkie, and another, fully erect one, was drilling through her exhausted crap-valve. The cock in her cunt erupted, then died. The man under her heaved her up and over, so she was on her beck on top of the man in her ass. Her flooded cunt was open, ready for another assault. The man who had been raping her mouth had been dislodged. He regained his opening, and she got his dick down her throat just in time to take his full load. She choked, spattering jism and spit all over. His prick whipped free of her mouth while it was still spouting. Thick juice showered her face, her eyes, her throat, and her hair.
Without even thinking, she reached up with both hands and smeared the creamy goo into her skin, coating her face with the unknown man's sex fluid.
The second cock to ream her began to spurt, and she soured upwards in the grip of yet another coming. The cock in her cunt jerked and heaved. She was getting a double-barreled load of jism. Pinned between two spurting men, the come of a third drying stickily on her face, Karen left her sanity behind and floated away on the flood of pleasure.
She roused to the unfamiliar sensation of someone holding and soothing her, without using one of her openings. Mindlessly, she snuggled into the comforting, gentle embrace. She tried to hide from her memories as she recovered. The lights on the stage began dying out.
"Oh, Karen," a familiar voice sighed.
"Mark?" Karen whimpered as cold fear slashed through her. She pulled back and looked, then slowly died inside at the sight of her husband's face. It was Mark who was holding her, snuggling, soothing her. And he was stark naked. She wanted to crawl into a hole.
"It's all right," he soothed. "It's all right."
"My God, what are you doing here?" she moaned.
"I was told to be here," he answered. "The producer said you were probably going to be a jackpot winner. They like to have the spouse here for the blessed event. Bernstein didn't expect the ending you supplied. Neither did I."
"Why didn't you stop me?" she whispered. "My God, what you saw!"
"I saw things I wish I'd known about years ago. I saw you do things I've always wanted to try, but didn't have the nerve. And I saw you bring those sons-of-bitches down."
"Who who was it that was doing me at the end?" she asked softly.
"Me, and the other men in the audience," Mark answered. "We ran all the bastards out, but we were too damned turned-on to keep from having you ourselves. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," she sighed, relieved. "It was the most wonderful thing ever." She shivered. "What about Bernstein?"
"He'll pay you your winnings. Nothing else he can do. He'd be jailed if he didn't. I can tell you one thing, though."
"What's that?"
"From here on, the game will be honest. He learned his lesson."
Karen snuggled contentedly against her husband. "Can we play some games, once in a while?" she asked.
"You bet your sweet ass we can," he told her fondly.