I unzipped his pants and pulled it out. And what a monster it was!It was so difficult for us both to keep looking into each others eyes, be professional, and stay focused on the interview so the people watching at home would have no idea what it was we were really up to.I was moving my fingers all over his beautiful licorice shaft, stroking and fondling it lovingly. Seeing his breathing become more deep and rapid, the increasing sweat on his brow and hearing the soft moaning under his breath got me so excited and made me pump his man-meat even faster...It was about then that I felt my co-host grab my other hand under the desk and move it over to his cock which he already had out for my convenience. The poor dear must have been feeling left out.There I was, stroking and pumping two beautiful hard cocks under the desk. It was so much fun and the risk of being found out made it even more exciting! The ecstasy they must have felt and the agony of trying to hide it. Then, finally, we went. At one point she called Hattie, her PA in. “Fuck’s sake, Hat, tell the stupid bitch why she shouldn’t go on the radio.” Hattie, like all Flick’s staff, was younger than forty, taller than a redwood tree and stunning. “Would anyone like a drink?” You had to hand it to Hattie, she was cool under fire. “Champagne,” I said imperiously, with a sideways grin to Hattie. She and I were mates (without benefits, sadly, she being straight as a ruler) and we often conspired against Flick gently. Flick erupted. “Champagne? It’s 10.30 in the morning.” I looked at my watch. “So it is. Champagne, please Hat and bring a glass for yourself.” Felicity looked daggers at me as we sat in silence waiting for Hattie’s return. She brought the booze and glasses, poured then sat crossing one fabulously long leg over the other and making me almost moan. “God, Hattie, do me a favour and turn queer.” She smiled. “Behave.” The Interview. The interview was on an arts programme that aired late Friday afternoons and.
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