The White House. The most important building in the whole fucking world. You know, it looks less impressive inside than everyone else fucking makes it out to be. But its fucking true though that this building just radiates fucking power. And if there’s one thing that gets the birds wet – it’s power. Ok, I just want to make clear since we just fucking met and all, that when I say bird, I don’t mean the animal that flies. I mean the animal that walks on two legs. With breasts and thighs, I want to fucking lick and suck. With pussies that I want to ravage. I mean women. But you already knew that, didn’t you love? You know what you’d do to me. You know how I’d treat you.
And, I guarantee, you’re never going to forget me.
As I step into the Oval Office, I can’t help but frown at the vulgarity of it all – the fucking room looks more like an accountant’s office than the chambers of the leader of the free world. Fuck, my bedroom back at the palace in St. Avondale puts this fucking joint to shame. It all looks so fucking impressive on TV, but when you look closely into it… it’s just mundane bullshit.
“So, this is where your husband decides what happens to everyone else on Earth is it, love?” I ask, plopping myself down on the chair behind the President’s desk. The First Lady looks at me with entranced eyes, nodding as if I’ve just said the most intelligent thing in the world.
Look, I know what you’re already thinking, okay? I’m fucking sure that even though you don’t know me yet, you’re already busy judging me. I fucking curse too much, right? Well, trust me, don’t put the fucking book down yet, love. Because I guarantee you it’ll be worth your fucking while. I mean, at least wait till I pull my 12-inch cock out before you decide.
Yeah, you’re probably wondering what kind of asshole I am – talking about my cock when you just met me, but trust me, I’m not that bad. And neither is my schlong.
But then again, why the fuck should you believe me. I mean, why am I, a foul mouthed fucking asshole, alone with the seventh wife of the President of the United States in his own office?
Hey, listen – it’s not my fucking fault the guy got held up at some fucking high-stakes secret meeting during a state dinner that I went to in place of my father. I mean, I knew by the way the President fucking greeted me when I was introduced at the dinner that he was expecting fucking trouble. I wonder if he ever figured out that I fingered his daughter at the funeral for that African freedom fighter last year. He probably thinks I still got my sights set on his daughter. Well, I don’t – I got them set on his fucking new MILF wife. I mean, I’m just doing my part, being nice to the First Lady, a girl in her mid-thirties with a pair of voluptuous fucking tits that would make any guy with half a brain drool and then cum in his fucking pants. And don’t even get me started on her other features – fuck, just looking at her perfect round ass makes my cock become as hard as a rock. After taking a good hard look at her body, I just had to ask her for a “tour” or I’d have fucking tented a 12-inch boner and ripped my fucking dress pants staring at her.
You know, now that I think of it, there’s a certain charm about getting your freak on while sitting on the President’s chair. No wonder some guys just couldn’t keep it inside their pants – when you have a Presidential Cock, it’s a fucking struggle. I have a Royal Cock, and let me tell you, I have women clawing at my crotch 24/7. And some women…well, some women are worth the fucking scandal.
“I bet your office in St. Avondale is nice too,” the First Lady says, walking toward me and sitting on my lap, one arm around my neck.
“Well, I can’t launch nukes from my office,” I say offhandedly, placing my hand on the her knee and looking into her eyes. “But I think you’ll be happy with the fucking missile I got waiting for you in my pants.”
What’s her name again? Katherine, Samantha? Fuck, I’ve never been good at this diplomacy bullshit. I look into her eyes, noticing the way desire brightens her face. My rational mind tells me that it’s bad form to fuck the President’s wife in his own White House. But on the other hand… well, if I don’t actually fuck her, it doesn’t count, right?
In the end, it’s not up to me. Sure, I’m Ian Fucking Barrington, a living, breathing pussy magnet. But it’s not my fault that I demolish pussy – when women throw themselves at your feet, what else can you do? But I’m a polite motherfucker – I don’t like rejecting nice looking birds.
So, when I feel her hand running up from my leg toward my crotch, I simply smile at her. It’s not good etiquette to say ‘no’ to the First Lady. Besides, my cock is already hard and anxious for her touch. I feel her fingers brushing against my inner thighs, and then I gasp as she curls them around the bulging in my pants. With her hand over the tenting in my trousers, she starts massaging my cock, her open palm pressed tight against my throbbing member.
Before I can do the responsible thing and stop her – ah, fuck it, let’s be honest, love: stopping her is the last thing on my mind right now – she gets out of my lap and goes to her knees, her eyes locking on mine. Lasciviously running her tongue over her lips, she slowly unbuckles my belt, pulling it off with a sudden movement. As she starts to unbutton my pants, each flick of her fingers frees my cock one inch at a time, I start to feel desire pulsing in my veins. My hands go to her head and, unable to control myself, I motion her to lean forward. She does so eagerly, her open mouth fitting against my shaft, over my boxer briefs. Over my underwear, she starts to suck on my cock, running her lips over my length. I look down at her, enjoying the way she takes her time – I’m in no rush, after all.
Hooking her fingers on the hem of my boxer briefs, she pulls them down, my cock springing free and aching to feel her lips wrapped around it. She parts her lips, allowing her tongue to dart out, and lays its tip against my glans; she circles it with soft movements, her full red lips almost begging for me to thrust and put my cock inside her little mouth with one simple movement. But I’m a gentleman, so I let her enjoy my cock at whatever rhythm she deems best. Who am I to say how a woman should enjoy my manhood? And, I’m all for empowering women, especially when that includes my cock.
Eventually she places her lips over the tip of my cock, gently scooping my pre-cum with her tongue. I give up on restraining myself. Hey, I fucking tried, okay? Instead, I push my hips up, slowly thrusting – and my cock slides deep inside her mouth, rolling over her lips and tongue inch by slow inch. Excited with the way I thrust, she leans deeper into me, making a mighty and respectable effort to have my entire cock inside her mouth; it’s not an easy task – at 12 inches, my cock is something you can’t take lightly, ladies. Even so, she doesn’t stop until her lips are touching the base of my cock, my glans pressing against the back of her throat.
She pulls back out then, her saliva wetting my shaft as she starts to bob her head back and forth, my fingers feeling the rhythmic sway of her head as she devours my cock. I exhale sharply as she starts going faster, my cock burning with pleasure as she flicks her tongue at it. Who knew that the First Lady had these kinds of skills? Not me, that’s for fucking sure.
I start grabbing her hair as I feel myself succumbing to the throes of ecstasy; I guide her head as I thrust at the same time, ravaging her tight little mouth. Leaning back against the chair as I do it, I realize that yes, I’m being blown in the Oval Office. I guess history has a way of repeating itself, uh? Maybe it has something to do with this particular office. Or maybe I just have a fucking huge cock that women can’t enough of. Either way, sitting on the President’s chair as his scorching hot wife sucks on my cock… well, it’s an interesting way to spend the evening, at the very least.
I close my eyes as my whole body starts to tense up. Thrusting upwards and burying my cock inside her mouth, I growl in pleasure as I feel a shiver going up my spine. She tightens her lips and pulls her head back. Her lips caress every fucking inch of my cock and I’m in fucking heaven. She looks up at me with smoldering lust-filled eyes and starts stroking my thick, long shaft.
“Cum for me, Your Highness,” the First Lady of the United States says to me with a husky voice and the sex-addled eyes of a crazed succubus. “Cum for me in my husband’s chair. Make me your dirty slut.”
My cock starts to spasm and I let go and surrender to a fucking mighty orgasm that makes its way up by body…
“What the fuck are you doing?!”
It takes me a minute to realize that’s not Barbara. Or Katherine. Or whatever the First Lady’s name is.
I look with foggy eyes past the First Cocksucker.
Oh, shit, it’s two fucking guys in suits. One is talking into his wrist – he must have a microphone in there. That means he’s Secret fucking Service. But they’re not the ones that yelled out.
It’s someone that’s running through the door in a tuxedo.
“Josephine!” he yells. “Get up immediately!”
Holy fucking fuck. It’s the President of the United fucking States.
“Josephine!” POTUS yells again and rushes up towards her. He reaches over and grabs her but she stays in place and gives my cock another three or four quick, rough strokes and by then it’s too late.
I throw my head back and surrender to this fucking mighty orgasm. I start gushing a torrent. It shoots out of me like a fucking geyser.
And onto the wife of the President of the United States.
Spurt after spurt races out of my monster cock. One stream splatters her face. The other hits her square in the jaw. Another thick cord of semen gets all over the front part of her dress. All told, at least six huge shots go racing out. Two shots didn’t hit anything, but land on the carpet right next to the President’s foot. Four of my streams hit the First Lady in the face and chest. My cum is traveling down her body and onto her tits.
I’m gritting my teeth and that’s when the President bends down to grab his wife. Wrong fucking move, bub.
Get ready for Round Fucking Two.
I groan loudly and shoot again. Surges of pleasure go through me as cum shoots out of my cock.
This time it doesn’t hit the First Lady.
Four ropes of thick, white, gooey, cum hit the President of the United States.
Square in the face.
It’s so surreal what’s happening that the President’s mouth falls open in shock.
Guess where Squirt Number Five goes.
Finally, I’m done and dribbling out.
Guess Secret Service will take a fucking bullet for the Commander-In-Chief but they won’t get in front of a facial, huh?
Holding her head in place, I let the last strands of semen spill into her mouth, my cock giving its final spasms. She looks at me, drops of my white juices glistening on her lips, and slowly backing away and scooping my cum with her fingers and bringing it to her mouth as the President looks on in shock. Then, her eyes never leaving mine, she swallows, a fucking grin dancing on her lips.
Now this exactly the kind of diplomacy I enjoy practicing.
Josephine, that was her name. Now I remember. She looks at me and then looks up at her father.
“That’s what you get for threatening to build a wall around Japan just because I want to go there and learn karate,” she says to him.
Fuck. This family seriously has some issues to work out.
A White House photographer, doing his job like a mindless drone comes over and snaps a picture of the three of us, with me looking at the photographer in fucking shock. I’m a degenerate asshole, but even this is almost too much for me.
I need to get out of here and back to St. Avondale. Dinner is obviously ruined. You don’t go back to the table and ask to pass the butter for the rolls after something like this.
I stand up and zip up my pants, giving Josephine a wink, before looking at the President. He glowers at me. Secret Service could be drawing their guns out at any moment.
Fuck it. I better start walking.
“Please tell the rest of the guests I had a wonderful fucking evening,” I say as I head out the Oval Office and wonder what the fastest way to get to my plane is going to be.
Okay, you can decide now whether you want to put the book down. I can live with your decision, love. I mean, it’s possible that I just started World War fucking Three.