Anchored in Love

"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"

"I don't care about any of that, How are you going to repay me?"

"It ah, it doesn't look like there's anything wrong with your car."

"I don't care if there is or not, this wasting my time, what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm sorry" Andrew saw this as his chance to broach an interaction free of intercourse. So, mustering all of his courage, he asked Michelle to dinner. A glimmer of happiness shot to her eyes and she agreed, attempting to squelch the feelings that she was all too apparently having. She returned to the stone faced woman who got out of the car and slowly, seemingly milking it for every moment, waved her hips on her way back for Andrew to see, just clandestine enough for this presentation to be written off as an erection-influenced reading of the situation.

As Andrew continued his drive home his mind's eye was fixated on the image of Michelle's hips wavering on her walk back to her car. The image stayed with him as he parallel parked on the decaying street in front of his efficiency apartment. It was with him while he stuffed handfuls of goldfish crackers into his mouth. It was with him as he pushed the skin on his stomach together in the shower for entertainment, it was with him when he went back to stuffing his face with goldfish and it danced in his mind as he wheezed himself to sleep.

As Andrew entered the studio the next morning he could see the cleaning company removing Scott from his bindings on the desk and cleaning the now ruby flakes of his dried blood. He went to his computer to research the local high school sports scores and slipped into a stupor; as the monotony was wearing on him. He was jarred from his sleep when he heard Smitz say: "Though it was a dry night in the backyard it wasn't so dry in the studio. It's the time of year for golden showers and I was able to give one last night to our very own Scott Sandstone." Of course Smitz wasn't on air, he had lost that privilege long ago, but in order to keep him from pulling a blade on any member of the staff they kept him occupied with delivering the weather for hours on end and storing the tapes for rainy days when the news was depressing.

The day passed eventless safe for Andrew hearing Michelle boisterously receive the seed of station manager Mitch Fortunado in the employee cafeteria. He was having doubts about the validity of the impending dinner. The validity of what he had seen in it- a chance at breaking Michelle from her compulsive love-making. Whether it would or not- Andrew resigned himself to the opinion that, at the very least, he would be going out to eat, which he truly enjoyed.

As the day came to a close Andrew approached Michelle and asked if their date for dinner was still on. She replied:

"I was thinking you could come to my place instead- I think that might be better, and I like to cook"

This made it seem to Andrew as though he would be abused by Michelle and little of consequence would be born of the dinner. Andrew thought to himself that no matter what happened he could still refuse sex with her. There would be no requirement and the refusal would allow the possibility of future sex to be on his own terms without him being forced into anything.

Andrew assented and chose to follow Michelle home. They passed Smitz in the hallway who looked up at them and began to fiercely, as though it was a threat, laugh at them with a vigor in his eyes and a wide open mouth with strings of saliva reaching from the tips of his top teeth to the bottom teeth. They were unnerved to say the least.

Andrew's car sputtered to Michelle's home and the duo walked into her wonderfully maintained apartment, everything neatly arranged and in theme with the rest of the home. Michelle asked Andrew to sit, which he did and she began to rustle in the kitchen. Andrew could hear the sounds of cooking but after about fifteen minutes he decided that he would not wait any longer to tell Michelle about his feelings for her- the burden of watching her exploit herself was becoming too much and something needed to be said.

He rose and paced a few times before walking into the kitchen and stammering to call Michelle's name.

"Michelle, there's something I need to ask you? ...Why do you slut around the office so blatantly? I don't get it."

"Umm... Why do you think?"

"Well, I guessed you were a nympho, that's what everyone says."

"Do you believe them?"

"Well, I don't know. I have feelings for you, I like you as more than a coworker. I know I didn't show it at work, but I don't want to just get in and get out of you and your life. I want to be a part of it."

Michelle's eyes began to well up and she said to him:

"Andrew, I didn't know how else to make you notice me- maybe I went too far, and yeah, I really like to do it, but it wasn't because I wanted to have that army of guys in me, I wanted you to see it and get so hot and bothered that you wouldn't be able to resist me... I wanted you to..."

And as Michelle tried to finish the statement Andrew grabbed and squeezed her so tight that she lost her breath. She pushed him away and looked into his eyes. Both sets of eyelids closed and the two began to kiss with pent-up desires that aged for years. The two swirled around the room, crashing into cupboards and dislodging the pans that hung from the ceiling. Their amalgamation crept to the living room and crashed onto the couch. Paula, on top of Andrew, kissed her way and unbuttoned down his chest, finally ripping it apart with some buttons still fastened at the bottom. She straddled him and rubbed his package with more force than was welcome, but with this new light shed on his and Michelle's relationship he was open to anything. She unbuttoned his khaki Dockers and watched as the force of his incarcerated stomach pushed apart the zipper. She pulled the pants and Andrew's underwear down to reveal the robust penis awaiting her. She began to climb up his body, allowing the tip of his rod to touch the place he so wanted it to be, blocked only by a thin layer of fabric. She pushed down on it, Andrew could see the wash of pleasure come over her as he reached around her to pull her down harder on it. She breathed deeply, as if she was desperately trying to catch her breath and looked Andrew in the eyes as she pulled her shirt up over her head and unbuttoned her pants.

Andrew reached up to undo the zipper and Michelle rose to allow him to slide her pants off. Andrew had never imagined fate would twist in such a way that would allow him such intimacy with this woman for whom he cared more than his own shower chair. She began to chafe her still panty-clad groin against his pole, which was growing harder by the moment. He reached up and inserted his hands underneath her bra to reveal her glorious breasts which seemed to be filled with pudding, his absolute favorite meal.

At this point the anticipation was too much and Michelle removed her underwear and maneuvered her body to bring the tip of Andrew's thang to the gorge between the legs had hoped so often to part. She slowly brought the force of her body down on to his shaft and a look of extreme pleasure and presentness appeared on Michelle's face, one he had never seen before despite the countless times he had seen her violated by the area's best news team. Michelle rode Andrew for what seemed like hours. He never blinked. The experience was so completing for Andrew that he felt he could not spare even the fraction of a second it would take to moisten his eyeballs.

It was because of Andrew's presence of mind that he was able to observe Smitz creep up behind Michelle in a rainbow clown wig and chef outfit. He grabbed Michelle and with seeming superhuman force, pulled her from Andrew's staff, and attacked her. Andrew rose to defend her but was stifled the first time by his own girth and was forced to sit back down, take a deep breath and try again. The second attempt was as big a failure as the first and he watched Smitz sting Michelle with a series of rubber bands. He tried a third time with all his might and was able to rise. Unfortunately he could not control his upward momentum and immediately fell over, the quake generated was enough to make Smitz lose his balance and fall to the ground. Andrew reached quickly and laid the hock of an arm he had on Smitz's face. After several minutes to struggle Smitz stopped moving and Andrew rolled over in exhaustion. Paula rose with small welts on her and straddled Andrew once again. Though she knew the blood required for the amount of action had robbed his penis dry she didn't care, she laid with him, wiping the sweat from his brow and slept under the weight of his arms.