The lights hit hot. Camera's cue hits zero. Destiny drops to her knees and slides beneath the wide oak desk before any lens can catch her. Down in that tight space, her breath stalls, then she glances up. Ariel's skirt rides high on crossed thighs, dark sheer hose catching the spotlight glow. Below the hem, the sleek outline of hard cock strains against thin lace. Destiny leans in, eyes inches from the smooth shaft, watching it pulse with each quiet heartbeat. She bites her lip, a thrill racing straight between her legs. Avery shifts closer, skirt tighter, no panties. Her cock lies heavy against a smooth thigh, the fabric doing nothing to hide the thick vein running up the underside. Destiny's mouth waters. She reaches out, traces one fingertip along Avery's warm length, careful not to make her jump. Avery's breath catches anyway, but the on-air countdown is already rolling. Three. Two. One. Both anchors smile straight into the lens, voices smooth, perfect. Underneath, Destiny leans forward and drags her tongue slow up Ariel's hidden cock, tasting the faint salt of pre-cum through lace. The blonde anchor never flinches; only a tiny clench of fingers on the desk edge shows she feels it. Destiny turns her head, lips sliding around Avery's bare crown, sucking just once before letting go. Ariel crosses her legs the other way, opening herself wider so Destiny can nuzzle deeper. The producer's tongue works faster now, wet heat gliding along each shaft in turn, careful not to let a single sound escape above. Destiny's own hand slips between her thighs, pressing hard as the broadcast rolls on above her head, every filthy stroke timed to the rhythm of the news scroll.
The lights hit hot. Camera's cue hits zero. Destiny drops to her knees and slides beneath the wide oak desk before any lens can catch her. Down in that tight space, her breath stalls, then she glances up. Ariel's skirt rides high on crossed thighs, dark sheer hose catching the spotlight glow. Below the hem, the sleek outline of hard cock strains against thin lace. Destiny leans in, eyes inches from the smooth shaft, watching it pulse with each quiet heartbeat. She bites her lip, a thrill racing straight between her legs. Avery shifts closer, skirt tighter, no panties. Her cock lies heavy against a smooth thigh, the fabric doing nothing to hide the thick vein running up the underside. Destiny's mouth waters. She reaches out, traces one fingertip along Avery's warm length, careful not to make her jump. Avery's breath catches anyway, but the on-air countdown is already rolling. Three. Two. One. Both anchors smile straight into the lens, voices smooth, perfect. Underneath, Destiny leans forward and drags her tongue slow up Ariel's hidden cock, tasting the faint salt of pre-cum through lace. The blonde anchor never flinches; only a tiny clench of fingers on the desk edge shows she feels it. Destiny turns her head, lips sliding around Avery's bare crown, sucking just once before letting go. Ariel crosses her legs the other way, opening herself wider so Destiny can nuzzle deeper. The producer's tongue works faster now, wet heat gliding along each shaft in turn, careful not to let a single sound escape above. Destiny's own hand slips between her thighs, pressing hard as the broadcast rolls on above her head, every filthy stroke timed to the rhythm of the news scroll.
