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April O'Neil - One Hell of a Rough Night.	By : Nickamano Category: +S through Z > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 7424 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or any related materials are not owned by me. This was created for entertainment purposes only, and I am not profiting financially from the creation of this story.

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Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
April O'Neil in: ONE HELL OF A ROUGH NIGHT.
By Nickamano.
Disclaimer: This is a fan fiction story using characters from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles who were created by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird, though this story specifically is inspired by the 90's cartoon version. Either way, the characters are not owned by me and I do not claim any ownership of them or the world they exist in.
This story is a work of my own imagination and in no way represents anything canonical in reference to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and the characters therein. This was created purely for entertainment purposes, and I am not profiting financially from the creation and online presentation of this story.
Story codes: Rape, Reluc, MMF, MF, Mf, bj, titfuck, oral, anal, viol. Micd.
PART ONE - A ROUGH NIGHT.
Chapter 1.
For the Presidential office of 'Channel Six News and Light Entertainment Broadcasting', it looked like a complete shambles, within the confines of a shoebox. Shelving lined every wall and all of them were stocked full of old discarded junk. Old VHS tapes by the thousand, loose and in battered carboard boxes, old video recorders and cameras, adapters, bundles of wiring, extension cables, stacks of newspapers, old film cans, pieces of an old editing suite. More cardboard boxes littered the corners of the room, stacked up three or four high. However, if you looked carefully you could see that there was actually a narrow passageway between the boxes and assorted detritus from the door to the desk which April O'Neil negotiated carefully, then demurely seated herself down onto the duct-taped, threadbare and battered old wheeled office-chair that Burne Thompson, her direct boss, motioned her toward.
She had been late again. She had been late the previous night too. Having missed a rent payment, she'd had to sneak out but the slimy landlord had been waiting for her, so she had been forced to lay low, making her late. Then again tonight, he had caught her leaving and she had been forced to make it up to her landlord. That had been only a half hour ago. Therefore, this appraisal meeting wasn't going well for April from the start
"April, April, April... I told you, I told you on your very first day, April. I thought I made it perfectly clear..."
There was a dusty, dank smell of stale coffee and damp cardboard in the heavy air. The old hardwood desk was as random and untidy, scatterbrain-littered as the rest of the small office. The office itself harshly lit with three bright, ceiling mounted spot lights, the room always gave April headaches. April wasn't listening to Burne Thompson, she rarely did but she suddenly realised that he had stopped talking and was looking at her expectantly. She had to respond somehow.
"Yes, Mister Thompson... And I'm very sorry. But honestly, it wasn't my fault! A Subway cop decided he had to check my camera case, then he wasn't satisfied and said he had to pad me down, and then before I knew it, I had to suffer through a cavity search. He put his finger up my ass!"
She wasn't even making it up. These things always seemed to happen to her. She felt like she had always been cursed with bad luck. Maybe there was a story in that somehow?
"That's just it April, anyone with any common sense would have offered to rub one out for him. It was obvious that was what he was after. No street smarts, April. That's part of your problem. Due to your absence tonight, our figures are down sixty percent! I had to put Vernon in front of the camera, for Christ's sake!"
"Vernon? But he stutters!"
"Exactly!"
"Well… Maybe, Mister Thompson... If I'm the only person keeping your viewing figures buoyant... Shouldn't I be treated a little more favourably? Maybe even... A raise?"
"April. I'm sorry... You're fired."
"Wait, what?! Fired?! How can you... But... But I... I can't believe this! Mister Thompson Please! You know I've always wanted to be a journalist. I need this! Please! I can't lose this job. I have to prove to my mom that I'm successful! I have too..."
He looked at her in silence for a drawn-out moment. Stony faced, arms folded.
"Isn't there anything I can do to change your mind?" She had sunk down into her damaged chair and her plea came out in a tiny and timid voice.
Burne Thompson let out a long sigh.
"Let me shed a little light on your career path April. It won't be pleasant to hear but it's for your own good. I'm afraid you basically don't have what it takes. Channel Six is the best you can hope for. Don't get me wrong, you're a lovely girl, April. The camera loves you and the viewers get off on seeing you in front of it but you're wooden. You have some innate curiosity but no investigative skills. Passion and drive but no instinct, you need the journalist instinct, and you simply don't."
Thompson paused, sighed, took a breath. The tears in April's eyes and her quivering lower lip didn't faze him in the slightest. He continued.
"The one thing you have going for you April, is your body. That's why you have this job. That's what the viewing figures represent. I hired you purely because of this fantastic figure."
A hand came out, gesturing pointlessly towards her huge breasts, slender waist, wide hips and lovely youthful face, with the lush brown eyes, glinting with passion and currently, hurt. And of course, her full, pouty lips, currently trembling.
"That's why it's written into your contract to have no less than four inches of cleavage on display whenever you're in front of the camera. You know this well enough. The uniform we gave you. I'm sure you're well aware was tailored specifically for you, to show off your assets to their best ability. You're here for your body girl, not your mind, or your skills or your education. If you aren't in front of the camera when I want you there, there's no point in employing you. You're dead weight."
April had stopped listening again. She knew what he was saying, it was depressing and not far from the truth but she knew she was better than Thompson was making out, he was trying to drag her down, put her in her place.
"And I don't want you getting your hopes up about going someplace else. All the local stations will have seen you on the tube and assessed your talents and I guarantee they won't match what I'm paying. And as for getting something higher up on the pole, you'd have to be sleeping with half their management to get anywhere at all..."
She knew what he wanted. It always came down to this. It was the curse of her good looks and great body.
"...And even if you were sleeping with a top exec at Fox News and their main anchors, the best you could ever manage prime-time would be presenting the weather!"
She wished it was still the way it had been at high school. She'd been the first Head Cheerleader to be the editor of the school paper as well. But since then... Ever since the intern-ship when she was seventeen, and that slimy news anchor Kent something-or-other...
At journalism college she'd had to sleep with her tutors to get passing grades, had to suck off and give tit fucks to that geeky slime ball Hamish to get him to help her with assignments.
"And we both know that would never satisfy you..."
She sighed, eyeing Burne Thompson, and then slowly lifted her hands to the low neckline of her yellow jumpsuit and holding his gaze with her big brown eyes, started to slowly pull the zipper down, revealing more and more of her immense on-display cleavage. There was no bra. There was no need with the sewn in push-up décolletage padding and under-wire, plus the triple hook and eye affair set into the chest behind the zipper. Altogether it acted as a front-fastening push-up bra, elevating a vast amount of cleavage, pressing the gelatinous orbs together until it was jutting out of her low 'V' neckline like a pair of Jell-O beach-balls.
She pulled the zipper down to her waist, unsnapped the bra-hooks and then tugged the garment off her shoulders, shrugging her nude H-Cup breasts into the open. She watched Thompson's eyes bug out at the sight of her lush naked breasts, rosy areolae encircling prominent pinkie fingertip nipples.
April's boss actually licked his lips with lust and she knew then that she still had her job. It would take a little more persuasion to confirm it, giving him no more than a glimpse wouldn't cut it. However, she had no doubts this time tomorrow she would still be employed as Channel 6's number one reporter.
She only hoped he wouldn't be able to smell her landlord's spunk from earlier on her breasts when he was, inevitably, up close.
Nothing more needed to be said, she had him by the contents of his balls and they both knew it, it was just a matter of where he wanted to empty them.
He unzipped his well-pressed, expensive suit trousers and levered out a short but thick erection. In response, April got down on her knees on the floor in front of his desk chair, cupping her breasts and lifting them up as an offering, holding his horny gaze with her deliberately wide doe-eyes-in-headlights look.
She enclosed his shaft between her breasts for a moment, despite her disgust at having to degrade herself, she relished the sensation of the hot, throbbing tumescence in her cleavage. It felt like a living thing warming her soft skin, the fast pulse running through its hot, hard flesh. All passion and need and desire. That, as well as the fact that it was her making it so hard and throbbing so thunderously in the first place. However, the moment Thompson's identity reasserted itself, the sense of disgust returned as well.
It was a disgust she knew well, for all the men who had ever manipulated her into getting what they wanted. And for herself as well for always picking the 'easy' solution to her problems - mouth open, tits out, take a load or two of spunk, problem gone away.
The owed rent problem had been the same. She had broken a Channel 6 camera and had her wages docked for the cost of a new one so her rent had failed to materialise this month. She had tried to explain as much to her landlord but he had responded with crap about having a waiting list of potential occupants who would never dream of not paying up on time.
Of course, and as usual, he had been staring at her breasts right the way through his speech. So, with a resigned sigh, April had unzipped her jumpsuit and stripped to the waist. He had thrown himself onto her, sucked on her tits for a few seconds before pushing her to her knees right in the doorway to her apartment and pulled his cock out. She had given him the same treatment she was giving Thompson now, except that the landlord had grabbed her head and directed the depth and speed of her sucking and tit fucking motions, while Thompson was giving her free rein, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed, groaning as he enjoyed the sensations she was impressing upon his turgid erection.
She felt his quiver of pleasure pass through his hardness as her lips slipped around it, her tongue slicking back and forth as she drew it deep into her mouth.
She forced herself down its length, fighting down the gag reflex as the bulbous head abruptly pierced her throat. Breathing through her nose, April pressed on until the flabby flesh of his abdomen squashed against her nose and his pubic hair tickled her face.
She sucked hungrily at his shaft, gently massaging his scrotum with both hands as she sucked him off. April wanted to get this over with quickly but of course, Thompson had designs of his own, and he leaned forward to scoop up her huge natural breasts. He shunted to the edge of his plush, padded chair, and slapped his throbbing cock down against the pendulous upper curves of her giant young tits.
Implicitly understanding what was expected, April cupped her huge mounds and pressed them firmly together, cushioning and enveloping Thompson’s thick hard-on completely within her delectable cleavage.
He groaned at the soft heat that embraced his dick, enjoying the feel of his saliva-slicked foreskin rolling back and forth, stroking the bloated, swollen crown of his cock.
April could tell by her boss's reaction that the sensation of her soft breasts was getting him there and she knew it wouldn’t take long to shoot his cum all over her cleavage.
He took the moment and worked it for all it was worth, slamming with his hips and grunting loudly while he excitedly rogered her lush melons.
His hands grabbed and dug into her bare shoulders and he leaned up, lifting his ass up out of his plush chair so he could take over thrusting between her tits.
Panting with more and more exertion, Thompson grabbed a fistful of the thick, wavy cloud of April's collar length auburn hair and used it as a counter grip for his thrusting hips, simultaneously dragging her face down to point at his up-thrusting cock head.
As he approached his peak, he slapped her hands away, over to the outside edge of her large breasts, exposing her thick nipples with their saucer sized areolae. Then he pinched a firm hold of her erect nipples, using forefingers and thumbs, and used their combined grip to hold her breasts steady while he fucked them.
April groaned at the harsh treatment but did her best to keep up with the pace of the bouncing caress of her huge, succulent melons.
“Take it you fucking, slut!” The Channel Six President snarled as his orgasm peaked at last.
"Yes, Sir! Oh yes, Mr President! Cum all over me, Sir!" April moaned, playing her part.
Her words brought his cum bursting forth with all the gusto of a well-shaken champagne bottle. It was a heavy and powerful climax which he punctuated with a long, wheezing series of grunts. And stream after long stream of his thick, hot spunk burst forth from his glistening crown.
The first three gouts he let fly across her tits and into her cleavage, coating her succulent flesh and soaking her already sticky chest. Then, snarling with erupting lust, he grabbed her head again and rammed his hips into her face, driving the pumping shaft past her full parted lips to finish off his explosive climax. He held her there, groaning at each ball tingling, muscle-straining burst of his spunk that, from then on, April was made to swallow.
Her cheeks bulged before a flurry of saliva-mixed spunk oozed from her stretched lips and dribbled down her chin, to drool down onto her chest and pool in her mammoth cleavage.
Thompson squeezed the last dribble out of his cock head and idly deposited it on one prominent nipple. It hung there like a water droplet at the mouth of a leaky faucet. He grunted, his lust-fulfilled and then straightened up, stepping around her while sliding his wilting cock back into his expensive trousers.
"There're tissues on the desk there..." He mentioned on his way out, idly thumbing in the direction of his desk.
"...Clean yourself up and then you can get on." He paused in the doorway. "...Oh, and April? Be in on time tomorrow…”
"Yes, Mister Thompson, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
<><><>
Things didn't improve after the end of April's shift. Most of which she spent editing video footage. Alone and in the dark. It was spooky as hell.
She had forgotten the time as she found herself immersed in the editing process and the first time that she glanced over to the chronometer and realised what the time was, she cursed.
Irma, her lift would have gone home at least an hour ago. Why in the hell hadn't the skinny, mousy haired, whiney little…? Why hadn’t her friend knocked on and told April she was heading home? And then April remembered. She had done just that... April had been so immersed in her work that she had replied without really hearing her and then had immediately forgotten.
She saved her progress, switched off the computer, switched off the lights and then grabbed her purse and her short grey rain-mac and let herself out of the building. She offered the old perv of a security guard a little smile and nod as she passed through the front doors which he returned by performing a filthy blowjob mime, laughing at her shocked expression.
Shaking off the disgust and latent fear that the guard had somehow found out what she'd had to do for Burne Thompson to keep her job, April look up and down the street for a taxi but none were in sight. Ad she realised she would have to wait out in the cold for a cab to pass by. Fortunately, it being so being so late at night, it shouldn’t be too long a wait. She started to walk slowly along the sidewalk, keeping an eye out in both directions.
She soon learned that the zipper of her little 'pocket Macintosh' was broken and she had to hug it to her bulging chest to try and keep the cold wind from blowing straight down between her breasts.
She saw a couple of lads walking along the sidewalk toward her behind, walking in the same direction, denims and hoodies and tattoos and ball caps, to hide their faces from cameras, nasty threatening expressions beneath the peaks. They eyed her closely as they approached, her presence suddenly the centre of their attention.
April looked away and wished she had the power to make herself invisible. She took out her cell phone and put it to her ear, wishing for once that she looked like Irma, who generally didn't get any kind of attention, no one seemed to notice her. The street thugs drew closer and April could catch snippets of their conversation.
"Hey, that's that O'Neil chick from the news..."
“...Amazing set a tits on her..."
"...I hear my old man jerkin' off to her, through my bedroom wall..."
"...Not surprised, tits on her..."
"...I'd do her..."
"...Me too. In a second..."
However, she suddenly found herself grinning with sense of relief, and she lifted her eyes to the black, thunderous heavens and offered a little prayer of gratitude, as a Taxi cab was approaching slowly, she waved her arms and flashed her smile and the cab pulled up to the kerb alongside her.
The two lads stepped to her rear as she crossed to the kerb and then bent to open the cab’s rear door. And yet as she pulled the door open and started to slide into the rear of the taxi, one of the lads suddenly grabbed her purse and yanked it violently right out of her grip.
The cabbie panicked as April screamed and he slammed his foot hard on the gas.
"He's got a fucking gun!" She heard the him yell.
She hadn't seen one, however the cabbie's panicked bolt separated April from her muggers and her purse, leaving both them and it behind. She watched them through the rear windscreen, running off in the opposite direction. Fortunately, she still had possession of her cell phone. Unfortunately, she no longer had possession of her purse which contained her apartment keys and her wallet with all her cash and cards in it.
She spent the time using her cell phone's web browser, cancelling her credit cards. She had immediately realised there was no point calling the cops. She hadn't paid enough attention to the two youths to give them a useable description, plus she had no doubts this cabbie wouldn't be of any help. No one in New York wanted to help anyone, not unless they could get something out of it. So, she did her best to protect her bank accounts and other bits and pieces instead. At least her phone hadn't been in her purse.
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April O'Neil - One Hell of a Rough Night.