Climbing the Ladder

Story Title: Climbing the Ladder
Author’s Name Liquidator
Content Codes MF, cons, oral
Celebs: Fiona Bruce
Disclaimer: For the purposes of not being sued for libel, this story is a complete and utter fiction.

It’s a well-known anecdote than MILF newsreader Fiona Bruce got her big break by pestering a BBC editor at a wedding until he gave her a job. The lengths she was willing to go to get her shot at fame and the means she used to fulfill her ambitions is the stuff of legend in the backrooms of Television Centre. Who can blame her for using her body to get to the top? There is no shortage of producers, editors, and even cameramen who claim to have been at the receiving end of her affections. Some she bedded to further her career, others she just fucked for the hell of it. Those flashes of leg and sultry tones are not accidental; Ms Bruce takes great pleasure in seduction. And the men she offers herself to aren’t complaining. I was such a man, and my true story begins in 1989, at the aforementioned wedding…

It was the marriage of one of the high-up BBC heads, and as such everyone who was anyone at the Beeb was going to show up. It was also an opportunity for those lower down the ladder to mingle with their superiors. Throughout the service, I sexy brunette kept catching my eye; she was wearing a classy dark blue dress that enhanced her ample cleavage without appearing slutty. She was sitting at the end of the pew, so I got a great view of her long, smooth legs and very high-heeled shoes. She’d throw me a glance every now and then, sometimes a wink. At first I wasn’t sure she was looking at me – it had to be some other guy. Either way, I could barely concentrate on the wedding.

Later, at the hotel reception, the same brunette strutted made her way over to me, and sat down beside me.

“Hi, I’m Fiona Bruce” she purred. I politely introduced myself.

“I saw you looking at me during in the church. You’re a, er, producer aren’t you?” she said. I nodded (I was actually an editor, but wasn’t about to argue).

“Any chance you could give me a job? Researcher, tea lady, anything?” she inquired.

“You want to get into television?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied, “I’m, very ambitious, I want to climb the ladder, and I’ll do anything to get to the top.”

My mind was racing, but I knew I was letting my imagination run away with me. It’s just a figure of speech, surely she didn’t mean anything…

As if she could read my mind, she whispered “And I do mean anything.” My heart was pounding, and I could feel a stirring in my trousers. She looked down at my lap, and gently gliding her hand over my ever-increasing bulge, she said, “Why don’t we go somewhere more… private? I can show you my… credentials.” There was no mistaking her now.

“My room or yours?” I stuttered, glancing around to make sure no-one was looking. “Mine”, she replied with a smile. She took me by the hand and led me to the lifts. Once in the lift, she pushed her body close to mine, stared me in the eyes and licked her lips. My cock was ready to break through my trousers. “Not long now,” she cooed, as she leant in for a kiss. And what a kiss! Her tongue flickered around my mouth. I grabbed her arse and she let out a soft moan. “Easy tiger” she cooed. The lift doors opened and she withdrew.

Again leading me by the hand, she sauntered down the corridor. “Room 310, here we are.” She opened the door and beckoned me to enter. She closed it behind her and gently pushed me against it. Then, before I knew it, she unbuckled my belt in a single move, unzipped my trousers, and pulled out my cock. She glided down, kissed my bell-end, and without saying a word, proceeded to give me the most vigorous blowjob I’ve ever had to this day. She stroked the shaft with one hand; her tongue twirling around the head while the other hand climbed up under my shirt and stroked my chest. She obviously knew what she was doing. After a few minutes I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer. Orgasm was imminent.

“Ah ah ah” she jokingly reprimanded, “Not yet. I haven’t shown you all my talents.”

She placed her hands behind her neck and untied her dress, letting it slowly fall down to reveal her wonderful breasts. She pulled it past her waists, revealing a trimmed bush. I was turned on by the fact she’d sat through the entire wedding and reception with no underwear on. She let the dress go, showing off her amazing legs and let it sank round her ankles. She stood out of the dress so to speak, and said “Take it all off”.

Naturally I hastened to take off my clothes, fumbling with the buttons on my shirt and nearly tripping over my trousers in the process. Fiona giggled. My cock was still hard from the unfinished blowjob as she pushed me onto the bed. She knelt down and resumed the job, even more vigorous than before, letting out the odd moan as she bobbed up and down. I was close to cumming, and then, just like before, she stopped. She was teasing me something awful. I was dying to cum.

“Now now, “ she whispered “I can let you have all the fun. I want something in return.” She obviously wanted me to return the favour.

“Isn’t a job at the Beeb what you’re getting in return?” I replied. If I was to fast-track her to a job in exchange for sex, I saw no reason why I should go down on her.

“You have a point,” she admitted, “There’s no point me being greedy.” And with that, she climbed on top of me, and still wearing her high heels, slowly guided my cock into her. After a few thrusts she started to moan, and after a few minutes the moan built into a full-blown scream. “Oh yes, oh yes!” she exclaimed, as she leant back and thrashed her head around. My hands caressed her hips.

“I’ll make you a researcher”, I blurted.

“I want more than that!” she grunted.

“A floor-manager then!”

“More!” the screamed.

“Assistant producer!”

“Yes! Yes! YES!”

And with that I came harder than I had in years. My cum was absolutely pumping into her. From the sound of things, she was cumming too. Her vagina convulsed like crazy. We slowed down, and eventually stopped, both panting. She lay down beside me on the bed, and whispered breathlessly in my ear “So, what time to I start?”

I smiled and said “As soon as possible”.

“And how good are my chances of promotion?”

“Depends on whether you interview well.”

“Oh I interview very well.”

It was then I knew that nothing could stop her. With a body like that, she could get any position she wanted, and I’m sure a lot of BBC editors received the same exemplary treatment as I did. Within a few years she had moved from being a producer to a presenter, to one of the most prominent newsreaders on British television. Talk about climbing the ladder.

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