by Alexis Angel
I fucking guarantee you that it will save you the effort later. You won't have to do laundry on another pair.
You might want to also go somewhere a bit more quiet so you can fucking read; you know what I mean?
Get that fucking vibrator out and get ready, because this shit is about to get real. My 8-pack abs are about to start caressing your body as I start fucking kissing your neck.
The party is about to start, so fucking feed your family and go get in bed.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Although, I don't think I need to warn you.
I know you'd have a bit more class than Stacy did during our interview.
All during the interview, Stacy made no secret of the fact that she was in fucking heat. She wanted to shuck herself on my flagpole.
"So you really are bullish on the market then?" she purred during the interview and I remember fucking smiling. I mean, it wasn't hard to figure out what she wanted all throughout the interview; her eyes were already undressing me the moment I walked in. Sure, it was a boring interview to watch for the viewer, but for me, watching her cross and uncross her fucking legs got me hard. And Stacy could see it. She watched as my cock came to life, began to twitch, and then started to bulge on my trouser leg. She smiled as she asked me, "And what are your predictions about banking stocks in the next quarter?" as she gave me a fucking lascivious stare.
"Very, very hard to keep from rising right now," I remember telling her and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt we were gonna fuck. That's why as soon as she said, "Great, thank you for sitting down with me today, Mr. Kane," I wasn't surprised to see her order the cameraman—who was the only person in the room aside from us—to go get the makeup artist without a second to spare.
Now I'm fucking making her moan like a whore as I pound her pussy mercilessly with my 12-inch cock. I can feel her squirming and her walls closing around me, and that's the cue that she's having an orgasm.
"I'm cumming!" she yells breathlessly, her eyes closed and her face contorted in this fury of fucking lust. "Oh, God. I'm cumming!"
Her entire body is fucking trembling. It's fucking amazing what my cock is able to do to women.
But you know what, Gorgeous? I'm not really into this bitch that much. I mean, sure, she looks okay. She doesn't have the tightest pussy. Her body is giving up. She's not really even much of a fucking nice person. She ordered around people before our interview like she was some kind of fucking princess. And of course, she's just fucking me because she's horny. But she's probably going to go to 21 afterwards and tell all her broadcast journalist news friends that she fucked Mason Kane.
And then she's going to go home to her fucking husband who lives in Connecticut and kiss her kids on the mouth a few hours after she used it to give me a lick-smacking, dirty-as-fuck blowjob.
So yeah, I don't have much respect for her at all.
In fact, I slap her on the ass, hard.
This makes her body tremble even more and probably intensifies the orgasm.
I can feel her pussy milking my cock and I know I'm not going to last much longer.
Fuck, I wish we'd left the camera on. At least that way I'd have something to watch later on in my office.
I glance toward the camera and see it staring at me.
Hey, one fucking second. Is the red light on the camera supposed to be on?
That's exactly when the door bursts open.
"Guys, we're somehow still live and rolling!" the cameraman shouts.
Stacy is in the throes of the last of her orgasm and all she does is whimper. I don't even know if she realizes what's happening.
But I have a fucking reputation to protect. I can't be like that guy, what's his name? Lance Anders? The intern at the White House who almost started World War III by fucking the President's daughter in the Oval Office.
I have a fucking Board of Directors who will flip the fuck out as well as fucking shareholders who'll just roll their eyes and wonder if I've gone off the deep end.
"Guys, we're live!" the cameraman yells.
To demonstrate, he holds up a tablet that shows that the camera must have somehow come on after he turned it off and for whatever reason begun to broadcast from our studio. So while we thought we were done, we were actually being broadcast. And because the cameraman wasn't here, he couldn't turn it off.
Fuck.
But Stacy's pussy walls keep milking me, and while I somehow understand the situation I'm in and how this is really not good, the bigger part of me is fucking shuddering in pre-orgasm. My eyes roll back into my head.
But I'm a stronger man than that. I can't make a complete fucking ass of myself on national television.
Even though a portion of my brain is telling me to shut the fuck up, I pull out of Stacy. There's a popping noise as I leave her pussy. Fuck, I really did a number on it, stretching that shit out.
"No!" Stacy says, and her hand darts back instinctively toward my cock.
It's just the angle of our bodies in that when her hand grasps my cock and begins to jerk me, she pulls off my condom.
I shudder at her hand as it goes up and down my shaft.
The cameraman is shrieking, but I'm only fucking human.
I close my eyes and feel my nuts explode.
A split second later my cock blows up.
Pleasure sears my body, travelling up my spine and I'm stuck in a seizure of ecstasy as I literally feel rope after rope of cum shoot out of my cock.
I groan loudly as massive spurts of semen leave my cock and arc out in the air. I can feel my body relax and my muscles basically give way.
It's all I can do to stay standing.
After the last couple of spasms wrack my body, I slowly open my eyes, still feeling Stacy's hand milking my monster cock.
What the fuck is wrong with her? Does she just not care that she's facing a nation with her tits hanging out and her pussy all stretched out as she milks the last drops of my cum.
Speaking of which, I raise my head and look over toward the cameraman.
He's in a state of shock. I don't know why. I mean, I can understand if he were just amazed at the size of my cock. It's still probably a good 11 inches even though it's getting soft.
But he's not facing me. His eyes are not on my cock.
No, I realize with fucking alarm that he's looking at the camera.
The wide lens that was pointing at me...
How else do I fucking say this? It's covered.
With cum.
I shot so hard and so fast and didn't see where I was aiming.
I completely covered the camera.
My cum is coating the lens.
It's dripping off onto the floor.
Fuck.
I just came over the entire nation.
Yeah, this is going to be a great way to start the day.
MarketWatch Journal Flash Update
The financial world was stunned yesterday as the King of Wall Street was caught without his clothes.
Literally.
In what amounted to a stunning display of personal hubris and poor luck, a camera that had been switched on began to automatically broadcast during a live segment of the Corporate Broadcasting Company's financial news show, Market Pulse.
This minor glitch, while embarrassing but understandable to network executives as it overrode the current broadcast of the news program was further exacerbated by the fact that it caught Mason Kane, CEO of one of Wall Street's most powerful investment banks, in an intimate moment with his interviewer, Stacy Sawyer.
The two proceeded to continue unknown that they were being broadcast to millions of viewers across the nation and culminated in perhaps one of the greatest and most watched episodes of the storied financial news show.
Retribution against the network however was fast and swift.
Despite the fact that the network apologized profusely as network executives went on the air and detailed exactly how their system had broken down—the cameraman
who had taped the live interview had left the room on an errand and had not been present to switch the camera off completely—politicians and government officials on both sides of the aisle condemned the network and Mr. Kane for what they termed "lewd and lascivious conduct that defiles the sanctity of the public airwaves."
In a rare show of bipartisan agreement, members of Congress condemned the Kane Price investment bank that is run by Mason Kane and threatened it with Congressional hearings.
In a simultaneous move, the FCC announced that it was temporarily suspending the Corporate Broadcasting Company's transmission licenses and levying a fine with an amount that's still being determined.
Industry executives cautioned that such a fine could deal a crushing blow to the CBC, which has struggled to stay relevant in recent years with the advent of online media. The FCC under the current administration has taken a tougher stance after several instances where viewers have been subjected to a larger frequency of on-air or very public sex acts.
"There's something going on in our culture where everyone starts to think it's okay to take off their clothes and begin rutting like rabbits," an FCC spokesman said. "What you do in the privacy of your own home is fine, but there's no need to broadcast it to 180 million viewers who just want to see if it's going to rain tomorrow."
The increased government oversight of Kane Price and of Mr. Kane places him in a precarious situation. The beleaguered CEO may face questions about his ability to lead the company from his Board of Directors and from general shareholders. In recent months, a string of lower than expected quarterly profits has even caused many Wall Street insiders to wonder if he still deserves the moniker, 'King of Wall Street'. Kane Price shares were down this morning on heavy trading by about 3%.
Stay tuned to MarketWatch Journal for all late breaking financial news as it affects your portfolio.
Becca
“I don’t mean to brag, but I have other women I could be seeing now. What can I say? Women love me, you know?”
Right, of course. Sigh. I could be doing something more productive right now, like working on the latest financial folders from what seems like everyone at Kane Price piling up in my inbox, but no. I have to put up with Robert, an obnoxious banker hell bent on proving to me how macho he is. What’s wrong with men nowadays? Why can’t they act naturally around women? Why do they have to put on a show? And a terrible one, at that.
“Well, you were the one inviting me,” I point out, looking at him with a bored expression on my face. It’s true; after weeks of insisting day and night, I finally relented on going on a date with him. Tall, broad shoulders, and a square jaw, Robert is actually a good looking guy. And, since I’ve been going without sex for God knows how long, I finally gave up on trying to resist his advances. I mean, I have urges, you know? And since I’ve started my internship at Mason Kane, these urges have been unattended to for too long. I just didn’t expect him to act like an asshole once I agreed to go out with him.
“Yeah, you are hot enough,” he says off-handedly. Hot enough? What the hell does he mean by that? And who the hell says something like that to a woman during a date? Jesus Christ, this is going worse than I expected.
You know, I had a feeling that something like this would happen. After putting on my favorite skimpy, tight, black dress, I sat in front of my bedroom mirror and I didn’t like the look I saw on my face. It wasn’t an eager or anxious one, no the expression on my face was one of reluctance and boredom. The kind of face someone would have while doing a chore nobody really wants to do. I should have picked up my cellphone then and there, and called the whole thing off. But no, I went through the motions—lipstick, blush, eyeliner—and got ready for someone who, it turns out, doesn’t even deserve five minutes of my time. Story of my life.
“Hey, listen, it’s already late,” I start, looking down at my wrist and realizing that I’m not wearing a watch. Still, I push through. “I think it’s best I get going.” For the first time since we got to the bar, his facade of overconfidence starts to crumble. He frowns, a line of confusion on his forehead, and tries a hesitant smile.
“But you haven’t even finished your drink…” he stammers, looking down at the half-full glass of red wine sitting in front of me. “I, uh, we can go somewhere else.”
“No, it’s fine. I just remembered I have some work I left unfinished, and I really should get around to it,” I continue, putting on one polite smile. I know that, by now, he has probably seen through my lies. But, hey, what the hell? He’s the reason I’m lying, anyway.
I’m about to get up from my seat when Robert reaches across the table and grabs me by the forearm. “Hey, listen, Becca. Stay a little longer… It’ll be fun, I promise,” he starts, looking at me with wide eyes. If I was uncomfortable before, now I’m way beyond that.
“I suggest you let go of the lady,” someone says from behind us, and I look back over my shoulder at a man in his late thirties. He’s wearing all black, even his shirt and tie are black, and his suit clings to his body as if he came into the world dressed just like that. Classy, but at the same time, elegant and modern.
His hair is groomed with a kind of perfect carelessness, and his full lips form a serious but relaxed line as he stares down Robert. Even though his blue eyes are two orbs of veiled threat right now, I can see the gentleness they hide in them. His high cheekbones give him the flair of royalty, and I can’t help but imagine that he’s the right kind of man born in the wrong age. A man with eyes like his… he could be a King in another life. He isn’t a king, but of one thing I’m sure: a man like him must leave a trail of broken hearts behind him wherever he goes. Oh, also, his name is Mason Kane, and he’s my boss.
Now, he probably doesn’t even know who I am; I’m just one more girl in his army or interns, but I know who he is. I mean, who doesn’t know who Mason Kane is? I’ve just never been this close to him.
“Mind your own business,” Robert tells Mason, springing up to his feet and letting go of my forearm.
“Or what?” Mason tells him with a smirk, leaning against the counter and grabbing his glass of whisky. He takes the glass to his lips and, throwing his head back, downs the whole thing at once and goes to staring at Robert with one eyebrow raised.
“I…” Robert starts to stammer, balling his hands into fists and looking from me to the stranger and then back to me. “I…” he continues, his brain seemingly shutting down as he doesn’t seem to find any words inside his pretty—but empty—head. “Fuck it. I’m outta here,” he finally blurts out, pursing his lips and turning on his heels. “Call me, anytime,” he does his final Hail Mary pass at me, looking over his shoulder before bolting out of the bar as if his jacket was on fire. Good riddance.
Sighing loudly, I sit back down on my seat and take a gulp out of my red wine. Finally, peace. Who knew that being alone could be better than being on a date? The answer flashes through my mind as I look at the man by the counter, Mason Kane. He’s already facing forward, drinking another glass of whisky as if the whole situation between me, Robert, and him never happened. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m already going up to my feet; with the glass of wine in my hand, I walk up to the counter and sit down on the stool next to him.
“Thank you,” I say, running my tongue over my dry lips. He glances at me, not even bothering to turn his body, and waves with his own glass.
“No problem,” he responds with a smile, and then turns forward as if I’m not here, eager to find out more about him. Yes, I said it; he intrigues me. Sure, he looks almost old enough to be my father, and he’s also my boss, but it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong here… Besides, even though he’s probably in his late thirties, early forties, he doesn’t look anything like his age. Oh, no, he looks like one of those Hollywood stars that don’t ever seem to age. And there’s something about him, an aura of… power? Dominance? I don’t know, but I wouldn’t mind finding out.
“Becca,” I introduce myself, extending my hand toward hi
m. He glances at me again, his eyes slowly going down from my face to my hand. He doesn’t recognize me from the office, it seems, but a soft smile appears on his lips and he finally reaches for my hand with his own, giving me a gentle handshake.
“Mason,” he tells me, a spark flickering behind his eyes. “So, Becca,” he continues, turning his whole body toward me, “what’s a girl like you doing with a guy like that?” My heart starts galloping inside my chest as I realize that I finally have his attention. Smiling, I drink the rest of my wine while I ponder my next words.
“Waiting for someone better to come along,” I say, my smile turning into a veiled grin. I really don’t know why I’m trying so hard to flirt with him; I just know that I have to do it.
“I see. Well,” he smiles politely once more, grabbing his whisky and finishing it, “good luck with that.” Shit, he’s really playing hard to get. Either that or I’m too young for him and he doesn’t see me like a real woman, one with whom he’d like to… Christ, what am I saying? Am I really thinking of unbuttoning that shirt of his and seeing what’s underneath it? Am I really this desperate to find out the taste of his lips? Yes… Yes, I am. I mean, I’m having a drink with Mason Kane, the King of Wall Street, for God’s sake!
“How about you? On a date with a bottle of whisky?” I ask him, hoping to God that I’m not overstepping. I don’t why he’s sitting here by himself, but I really don’t want to ruin this.
“You got me,” he replies, raising both his hands in the air as if I was pointing a gun at him. “Sometimes a good scotch helps ease a troubled mind.”
“And what’s troubling you?”
“Nothing you would care about… Unless you also know how to ease a troubled mind, that is,” he says, smiling quizzically. We lock eyes, and I already feel my body temperature rising. Not only that, but between my thighs… Well, let’s just say that ‘dry’ wouldn’t be a term I’d use to describe the state I’m in right now.
“Maybe I know of a way to make you relax…” I hear myself saying, my heart thrashing inside of my chest. I can’t believe that I’m really saying this. What’s gotten into me?
