Anthea Furthers Her Career, by Ter1 Hatcher (expanded by Alexia_Fan)
Anthea Turner was desperate. Her career was effectively dead, her sexless marriage just a public facade. She puffed on a cigarette, drawing her cheeks tight and inhaling as much of the nicotine as possible. She didn’t care, she was finished. All she had on today was a meeting with Carol Vorderman, who had told her she might be able to help. Anthea couldn’t figure it out – as her career had nosedived Carol’s had blossomed. Even dressing like a desperate
middle aged hooker couldn’t stop Carol’s rise to the top of the TV world, but how did she do it?
“Shit!” Anthea cursed as she woke, spilling ash from the now dead cigarette over her dressing-gown. She had dozed off. Carol would be waiting for her. She quickly threw on some clothes, a blouse – no bra, white tights – no panties, she didn’t have time, but hey, who would know? She finished the outfit off with a white skirt suit and high heels. A quick look in the mirror – hmmm, not bad, she thought. The woman in white.
She jumped in the car and made her way to Carol’s London flat. After parking, she jumped out, ran up the stairs and rang the bell. As Carol emerged from the door, Anthea was surprised. Carol was wearing more makeup than usual, and was dressed in a tight tee shirt, very short leather miniskirt, pink tights and black high heels.
“Hi Anthea”, said Carol, briskly, “right – let’s get started”.
Carol lead Anthea into the flat. As she took off her jacket she could hear a lot of groaning coming from a nearby room.
“OK Anthea, I’m going to show you how to make it in TV. Now, remember – what you’re about to do is top secret, and the only way you’ll get back to the top of the T.V. tree…”
With that Carol led Anthea into the main room. Looking around, Anthea gasped
She could see more than a dozen men of various ages sitting around the edge of the room. All dressed in business suits, they were drinking champagne, flies unzipped, cocks out. An attractive naked young lady, her back to Anthea, was on her knees, working her way around the room sucking their cocks. The man she was working on moaned and groaned, then pushed her head back and began to masturbate frantically. He was obviously shooting his load into the young ladies face!
The groaning stopped and the young lady turned to face Anthea. It was Philippa Forrester! She had a big grin on her face and a colossal amount cum running from her open mouth, down her chin and over her boobs.
“Hi Anthea, you’ll have to wait your turn – I’ve still got two of my boys to do” she giggled playfully as two of the elder men beckoned her over. Taking a cock in each hand, she began to wank them.
Carol sat Anthea down and plied her with champagne as they watched a naked Philippa Forrester ‘entertain’ the men. Anthea was feeling a little strange, her stomach was feeling weird, but she ignored it and watched Philippa working. Once Philippa had sucked all the men off they fucked her in every hole. Anthea noticed this seemed to turn Carol on a lot. She’d now slipped out of her skirt and had a hand down her pink tights rubbing her pussy.
“I recognise him!” whispered Anthea, “He’s one of the executive directors at ITV! And that one – he’s a governer at the BBC! Fuck – they all are! Except that one there”, she pointed at a grey looking man in glasses. “Isn’t that the Director General?!!”. Anthea then felt her bowels loosening a little. Oh dear, she thought, what a time to want a poo…
“That’s right Anthea,” replied Carol, “they’re all TV executives. This is how to get on in TV. They get filthier though – next it gets really messy…”
Philippa was spent, her face drooling in cum.
“Wash it off Carol”, one of the gentlemen snapped as he rubbed himself slowly. Carol smiled, teetered over to Philippa, who knelt between Carol’s sexy legs.
Anthea was expecting Philippa to start licking Carol’s pussy, and was surprised when Carol let out a low groan and started to pee! Urine erupted from her tights, spraying all over Philippas’ open mouth and the rest of her face. It ran down Carol’s tights, feeling warm as it gushed over her thighs, over her knees and down the back of her calves. Carol felt her piss running around her ankles and down into her shoes. This was her favourite part. She adored the wet squelchy feeling of wet feet in high heels.
Carol was still pissing, having drunk half a bottle of champagne. Philippa was going to have trouble drinking this lot down. Finally the flow subsided.
“That’s half of my facial,” said Philippa, coughing slightly to clear her piss filled throat. “Now I just need my wrinkle reducing mask applying”. They all turned to Anthea.
Anthea felt her bowels loosening again. Grinning, Carol held up a small box of laxatives in one hand, a glass of champagne in the other, and winked at Anthea. Oh no, thought Anthea, she had spiked the champagne with laxatives – what on earth did they want from her? Then, Carol slid behind Anthea, rubbing her pee soaked legs against Anthea’s still dry white tights. Rather than been revolted by the smell of Carol’s piss Anthea felt excited, liberated almost. The dirtier and more perverted she became perhaps the more her career would rise…
Suddenly, Anthea’s bowels churned and she started to panic. She was going to shit herself! Was this what they wanted? She clenched her buttocks, trying to hold it in, but it was no use. She farted loudly and Carol quickly unzipped her skirt. She farted again, and this time it was a wet one!
Carol looked down at Antheas ass and laughed out loud. “Oh, Anthea – you’ve got no panties on!”
“I didn’t have time to dress properly,” Anthea replied, blushing. Carol parted Anthea’s legs and bent her forward revealing a wet brown patch on her once pure white tights.
Then Carol let rip. It was thunderous fart, and as she did so, Anthea groaned, her legs quivering slightly as a long, almost silent fart broke from between her cheeks, accompanied by a single solid log. It slid from between Anthea’s cheeks bulging against her tights. She felt the end of the log plop out cleanly from her asshole. Then, without any warning, she started peeing. Philippa, her mouth open, was already there to take Anthea’s golden nectar. As Anthea peed she felt another twinge in her bowels. It was the laxatives doing their job, and another long log slipped from her anus. This wasn’t solid, it was sticky and it smeared itself between her cheeks, pushing downwards in her tights. Philippa could see the shit emerging.
“Quick, quick,” she shouted excitedly. “It’s your turn, Carol! Do it! Do it!”.
Carol obliged and farted out a few solid pebbles of poo. This was closely followed by a stream of brown sloppy shit as Carol, like Anthea before her, did it in her tights. A minute later both ladies were standing in the middle of the room, teetering around in high heels and tights, soaked in piss and bulging with shit!
Carol walked around, parading so the men could see. She looked as though she was used to it and didn’t seem to mind the shit that was spreading over her buttocks and legs from inside her tights. Anthea was a little more cautious, standing still, trying to get used to the feeling. Just then Carol put her hand down Anthea’s stained tights, took a lovely big handful of Anthea’s excrement and smeared it over Philippa’s face.
“Come on Anthea,” said Carol, “it’s your turn now.” She beckoned Anthea to put her hands down her tights to salvage her sloppy load. Anthea looked around the gentlemen looking at her expectantly. She felt disgusted. Then she looked at Carol and Philippa, she thought of Carol’s TV career going from strength to strength, thought of the two women in front of her, both covered in shit, both with their own TV series…
Carol pulled her tights down a little and Anthea pushed her hands down into the warm smelly shit. Her hands emerged holding two big loads of Carol’s poo. She smothered both handfuls over Philippa’s face and breasts, then wiped the rest down her unbuttoned blouse and her boobs and then her tights, eventually licking her hands. She began cautiously, but soon got a taste for shit, sucking desperately at her fingers until they were clean.
Anthea Turner, breasts and clothes now smeared with Carol Vorderman’s shit, watched the satisfied gentlemen leave, and smiled to herself. She was bound to get her own prime time series now!