"You're twenty-three…"
"Twenty-four in a month," she said quickly.
"I see you had a year and a half of college," Sandier noted.
"I-I dropped out, in the middle of my sophomore year," she said apologetically. "I'm not much of a scholar."
"Few among us are," he said kindly. "For the show, we prefer people from the mainstream of America. Housewives and blue collar workers are much more representative than lawyers and doctors. And, anyway, professional people generally fare rather poorly on the show. They get too tense. Now, tell me a little about yourself. You're married, I see."
Had she been thinking clearly, Karen would have marveled at the man's ability to get her to relax. As it was, she opened up, began almost babbling about herself, and Mark, their marriage, their desperate need for money. She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice when she talked about their house and their constant penny-pinching.
When she fell silent, she met Peter Sandier's dark eyes for a moment, then looked away quickly. There was something unsettling deep in his eyes. She glanced around the room, noting the rich furnishings.
"Get up and walk around the room, please," the MC said. "I want to see how you move."
Leaving her purse in the chair, Karen got up nervously and paced the area behind her chair. The thick carpeting muffled her steps. She was conscious of his intense gaze on her, and suddenly felt naked. The abrupt stiffening of her tits inside her bra both startled and scared her.
"Could you take off your shoes, please? You're about my height, so on the show we would prefer you wore low shoes."
"Oh, uh, all right." Steadying herself with one hand on the back of her chair, she unbuckled her chunky stacked shoes, and let them drop to the floor. She wished she had been able to afford stockings. Her bare toes gripped the thick pile of the rug.
As she continued walking she saw the MC get up from behind his desk. Her eyes flicked nervously to his groin. There was a mammoth bulge there. Karen flushed and looked away. She was frightened as much by her own hot hunger as by his erection. She stood at the window and stared out, over the expanse of rooftops. A motion on the roof of the next building caught her eye. A man was leading a woman out onto the flat expanse of tar.
"You have very nice hair," Peter Sandier said, startling her. He was standing behind her. His fingers touched her long brown tresses gently.
"Thank you." On the rooftop below, the couple was embracing. The woman was writhing against the man. Karen wanted to leave, but her curiosity held her rooted to the spot. Peter Sandier's fingers touched the side of her neck gently. She shuddered.
The man on the rooftop was cupping her ass, kneading the cheeks of her butt. The woman's thighs spread slightly, clamped around one of the man's strong legs. She humped herself on his thigh. He was dragging her skirt up, and up, and up, baring her legs, then her tail. Her panties were pale pink, very tight and very thin.
Peter Sandier's lips touched Karen's throat. She squirmed, tried to tear herself away from him, and the lewd scene below. But her seething horniness reduced her resistance to just a feeble wriggling.
The man below slid his fingers into the woman's pants, eased them lower and lower, exposing the pale white cheeks of her butt. He shoved the filmy nylon down until he could knead her ass. He left the panties tangled around her thighs, at her crotch level.
"Noooo," Karen moaned as Peter Sandier took possession of her boobs through her blouse and pressed her back against his hard body. A hard lump was prodding her butt. She put her hands on his, intending to pull them off her titties, but instead, she pressed his palms don hard on here generous knockers. His lips, teeth, and tongue were exploring her neck.
Down below on the root the man was hauling the woman's dress upward, baring her, stripping her naked in the bright midday sun. Who were they? A man and his secretary on a lunch break? Did a man and wife ever act that way? Karen tried to think of Mark, but her mind shied away from him. Her blouse was being unbuttoned by the man pressed against her back. Or, rather, by the man she was pressing back against.
She dragged the blouse out of the waistband of her skirt, then let Sandier drag the garment back off her shoulders and down her arms. Then, ridiculously, she leaned forward to the windowsill, pressed her forehead against the cool glass, and watched the rooftop lovemaking. Sandier unfastened her bra. Her jugs swung free the heavy, warm, soft globes were drawn down by gravity as her bra straps slid down her anus.
The TV star's hands formed living cups for her heavy tits. He lifted and weighed them. Her nipples burned against his hard palms. His cock butted her tail through their clothes as he fondled her generous knockers. She could feel her panties getting wetter and wetter.
She was mad, she told herself. She was a happily married woman, and she was letting herself be seduced, while she watched a seduction. It was insane. She told herself she should reject Peter Sandier's advances. But, if she did, what would be her chances of getting on his show? And she and Mark needed the money so desperately!
The woman on the rooftop let her dress be dragged up over her head. She was naked now except for her high heels and her panties, which were ludicrously tangled around her thighs. She stripped the filmy nylon down and off, but kept her shoes on. Her tits were surprisingly big for someone with such a slender build. They were a very pale white under the glaring sun. Her head hair was blonde. Karen couldn't tell the shade of the woman's muff.
While the woman let her breasts be fondled, she was stripping the man. She uncovered his dick, a towering white column of meat, just as Peter Sandier loosened Karen's skirt and let it drop around her feet. His hand pressed Karen's mound through her sopping panties.
Karen spread her legs and let him get his hand between her thighs. He pressed her clit against the hard arch of her pubic bone, and rivers of fire ran down her legs. With her own hands, she shoved the panties down, exposing her cunt to him.
On the roof below, the woman had her hand wrapped around her partner's pecker, and he had one hand hooked in her twat, and was fondling one of her tits with the other. Karen wondered if the pair would lie down on the blistering tar roof, or not.
As Peter Sandier hooked two fingers into Karen's flowing cunt, she reached back to trace, through his trousers, the mammoth lump of his dick. She found his belt, loosened it, undid the single button, then unzipped his fly. His pants dropped down around his legs. Gingerly, Karen reached behind her back and touched his strained underpants. She freed his dick and gripped it, while he pumped his hand in her naked pussy. On the roof below the other couple continued their foreplay.
The woman was tall, the man short. The woman spread her graceful legs and the man stepped in between them, and bent his knees. They were going to do it standing up, right there, in broad daylight, on the roof! The woman aimed his dick upward, he straightened his legs and the woman arched abruptly. Her head dropped back, as if she had been stabbed. And, in a way, she had. His cock had rammed straight up into her cunt from below. Her eyes closed against the glare of the hot sun, the woman took his cock in her twat. Her breasts were pale moons in the harsh light, her tits dark points. His hands clutched her tight butt as he bent his knees and straightened them again. She recoiled each time he slammed up into her.
Karen bent Peter Sandier's pecker down. He drove forward and rammed it into her cunt from behind, jammed her ravenous hole full. His fingers were on her pubic arch, mangling her clit. One hand was milking her lush jugs. His cock was drilling into her twat from behind.
On the roof below, the woman was steadying herself, putting her hands on the man's shoulders. She was still leaning back, arching her spine. Her titties jutted skyward. Her face was shining with sweat. Her mouth was a ragged circle of lust. Her head turned from side to side.