by B. B. Hamel
“We won’t do this again.”
“I didn’t say that.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What are you saying then?”
“It felt dirty.” She takes a breath and lets it out. “But, I don’t know. Maybe I liked it, a little bit. The sneaking, the suspense. It was a little bit… exciting.”
I laugh softly, eyebrows raised. “I knew you were dirty, Maggie. But I didn’t know how filthy.”
“Cut it out.”
I stand up, rolling up my sleeves. She watches me, and when I’m finished, I help her to her feet.
“Come here,” I say softly, leading her over to a small piano set up against the far wall. “This was put here by Bill Clinton. Pretty cool, right?”
“Sure. Looks nice.”
I grab her hips and boost her up onto the top of it. “Fuck this thing,” I say. “Fuck Bill Clinton, too.”
She laughs, wrapping her legs around my hips. “You know, sitting on a piano is like the worst thing you can do, right?”
“I know,” I admit, coming closer to her. “I want to break the fucking thing.”
I kiss her deep and slow. She kisses me back, hands in my hair.
I rock her forward, getting her closer, chest to chest. I can feel her breasts against me as my hands grab her hips, moving down to palm her ass. She groans softly into my kiss, taking a sharp breath.
I can feel myself slipping. I can feel myself sliding into her, into the desire for her. That’s all I need, all I want.
The pressure, the terror, it’s all melting away. I don’t need any of it. All I need is her body against mine.
I kiss her deep and slow before tugging at the hem of her shirt. I lift it up over her head, cupping her breasts over her simple black bra. She groans as I unhook it, slide it forward.
She’s fucking beautiful. I can feel my cock react instantly, getting hard in a rush. Her breasts are full and her nipples are pink and perky as I cup them, teasing her nipples with my fingers.
I kiss her neck, her chest. She groans, hands in my hair. I bite a nipple, making her gasp, as my hands work at unbuttoning her jeans.
They come off easily, sliding down her skin. She’s so fucking sexy, it drives me wild. I spread her legs wide, pressing myself against her, cock between her legs. I can practically feel her pussy dripping wet already.
She reaches down and takes off my belt. I let my pants slide down my legs and step out of them. She unbuttons my shirt while I kiss her neck, bite her ear.
“I’m glad you came,” I whisper to her. “I needed this.”
“I needed it too,” she admits. “Daddy.”
I let out a groan. She gets my shirt off, and I love the way her eyes drift over my muscular chest. I smirk and slide my hand down the front of her, finding her wet pussy as she reaches for my cock.
She rubs me over my boxer briefs and I rub her over her panties. She’s dripping wet, already coming through the thin cotton.
I’m fucking hard as hell and getting harder.
She strokes me as I pull her panties off. I kiss her stomach, lick her clit, kiss her again. I slide my tongue in her mouth, make her taste her own pussy, as my fingers tease her clit.
She’s writhing, naked on this piano. Her breasts are perky, firm, her pussy fucking gorgeous and wet. She gets my briefs off and wraps both hands around my cock, stroking me like that.
“Shit, Mr. President,” she whispers. “I had no clue you were so…”
“Endowed?”
She nods. “Big.”
I smirk. “I’m your big Daddy then.”
I kiss her again as she strokes me, both her hands barely wrapping around my cock. I can’t wait to find out if she can fucking take me all the way or not.
I think she can.
I slide my fingers inside her, fucking her with them. She’s rolling her hips, moaning, leaning back now. I kiss her breasts, bite her nipple, my cock hard as fuck.
I pull her down off the piano. I can’t take this anymore. I spin her around, push her hands forward, pinning her there.
I slap her perky little ass. It’s firm and thick, a perfect little bubble. I slap it again, leaving a handprint.
“Fuck,” she gasps. “Be gentle, Daddy.”
“You want gentle?” I laugh, teasing her pussy with my cock. “I think you’re with the wrong man.”
She groans as I grab her hair and rub her clit with my hand. I press my cock against her wet pussy, just teasing her with it, waiting for the right moment.
She groans, rolls her hips, shimmies a bit. I push her forward, down onto her elbows. I slap her ass again, pull her hair, rolling my fingers around her clit. She’s moaning, saying my name. “Fuck, Daddy,” over and over.
I press my cock against her. I hear her take a sharp breath.
I slide myself inside.
She groans. I spread her nice and wide, get her legs wide open, as I slowly sink my cock inside. She groans, half in pain, half in pleasure. I let her take a second to get used to my size.
Slowly, I press myself deeper. She takes me just like I knew she would. I sink deep between her legs, filling her up, the warmth of her pussy flooding around my hard cock.
It feels so fucking good. She’s tight as a fucking vise. I slowly start to fuck her, slapping her ass again.
I love this view. Her big, round ass under my hands, her toned body bent over this historic fucking piano.
I want to fuck her on every surface in here. I want to make her sweat and moan and come so hard, her orgasm will haunt this room forever.
I fuck her faster now. I can’t help myself. I feel like a fucking animal. She looks over her shoulder, full lips parted, face concentrating.
“Fuck, Daddy,” she pants. “I don’t know.”
“You can take it,” I say, leaning over her. I bury myself inside, kissing her lips. “You can handle it.”
“Oh, fuck,” she says. “Well, when you say it that way.”
“You want to come on this big cock, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“You want to come for your President? Make your country proud?”
“Oh, god,” she moans. “Yes.”
“Then you’d better get to work, citizen. Your President Daddy needs this tight pussy.”
She groans and starts to move her hips. Slowly at first, she moves in circles, my cock buried deep inside of her.
I love the way she moves her hips. She makes it look easy, sliding in slow circles. She moves forward, sliding me out, and back, sliding me in. I let her take over, teasing her clit with my fingers, feeling her breasts, her nipples. I slap her ass as she starts to move faster.
I love the way her back muscles tense and tighten. Every inch of her is so fucking sexy to me. She moves faster, rolling her hips, bucking back and forth.
Until she’s moving fast enough. I slap her ass and grab her hips, thrusting deep. She gasps, eyes wide.
I take over from here. I fuck her deep and hard, low and slow thrusts. I reach around her hips, rubbing her clit, making her moan. I love this fucking ass, this fucking body. I love the way she pants and groans as my cock fills her, fucks her, makes her beg my name.
I thrust harder. I take her hair in my hand, grip it, fuck her. She starts moving faster, and I can tell she’s getting there.
I pull back, grab her hips. I lead her to one of the couches, some fucking heirloom from Lincoln or whatever. I sit back and let her straddle me, taking a nipple in my lips.
She sinks down onto my cock and rides me on this historic couch.
I grab her hips, helping her work. I can tell she’s starting to sweat, her whole body tense, every inch of her moving along my big dick. I kiss her lips, her neck, her chest. I tease her nipples with my tongue.
She grinds against me, faster and faster, panting in my ear. “Oh, god, Daddy,” she whispers. “I’m so fucking close.”
“Come on my big cock,” I say back. “Make your fucking Daddy proud.”
“Fuck
,” she gasps. I slap her ass and squeeze it. She opens her legs wider, grinds harder, faster. I fuck at her rhythm, letting her lead things.
I feel her teeth sink into my shoulder, her hands gripping the back of the couch. I slap her ass again, nice and hard.
She grinds down rougher. My cock’s buried so deep in her pussy, I don’t know where I end and she begins. She moves faster, sweat dripping down her back, as my fingers dig into the muscles.
“Oh, fuck, Daddy,” she gasps. She throws her head back before her whole body tightens.
She comes hard. I keep moving, fucking her through it, grinding against her cunt and clit. She groans, shuddering, shaking. I grab her hair and hold her in place, making her take my cock while she comes.
It’s so fucking sexy. I’ve never seen a woman orgasm with so much expression before, like it’s overtaking her completely. She’s gasping when it’s over, sweat damp in her hair.
I fuck her fast, pushing her over my shoulder. I spread her ass wide, cock slamming into her. I don’t take it easy, I don’t let up.
I’m an animal in the throes of pure bliss.
I come deep in her cunt. I can feel myself spurt into her pussy, thick ropes of it, filling her completely. I’m sweating too, I realize, as I finish and slowly come back to my senses.
She slides down and lies on my chest, my cock still inside of her. We stay like that for a while, my cock slowly softening, although I can still feel a thrum of need.
I kiss her lips gently. “Good girl,” I whisper.
She grins at me. Kisses me back.
“It’s not what the President can do for me, but what I can do for my President.”
I groan. “That was awful.”
“I know. You loved it.”
I kiss her, hold her tight.
I don’t know how long she can stay. We’ll have to get her out before the normal day starts. But right now, I love this. I don’t want this to end.
So I hold her tight and lose myself in the moment, in her breathing, in her body, in her skin against my skin. In being a normal person, at least for a little while.
9
Maggie
I’m back at work the next day, but suddenly the whole office looks… different.
I can’t put my finger on what changed. Roger is still overworked and overstressed, running around like a manic coke fiend, even though I know he’s way too straight-laced to do coke at work.
Iris looks like her normal self and smiles when she catches me staring. “What’s the matter with you?” she asks. “Or am I just that pretty?”
“Just that pretty,” I reply, smiling, but no, that’s not it. Iris is still just Iris.
It takes me the whole day, making calls, collating data, collecting responses from our interns, before it hits me.
I feel comfortable here.
It’s strange, actually. I thought fucking the President in his own residence might make me feel a little awkward about being around government people. Nobody would understand if they found out about this relationship.
Nobody would stand by me.
And yet here I am, feeling comfortable. I should be freaking out, worried that it’ll all come crashing down at any time.
Instead, nothing. I’m at work, doing my job, like nothing happened.
I’m tempted not to look too closely at it. I’m tempted just to be happy feeling comfortable, but of course I can’t help myself.
Because I know why I feel this way. It’s obvious, when I give it a second’s thought.
I’m comfortable because the President took me into his private residence and fucked me harder and better than I’ve ever been fucked before.
And after, I fell asleep in his arms until the early morning.
Of course, I had to be rushed home by the Secret Service before any reporters could catch us, and it worked out fine. But there was a moment in there, when I was just relaxing on his body, and it felt normal.
Like he wasn’t the President. Like we were just two normal people.
It felt so good. Strangely intoxicating.
So I feel comfortable now, like it’s my own living room. Because in some weird way, it kind of is.
At least, it’s his living room, and he wants me to be a part of it.
I work for him. I do my job, and I do it to the best of my ability.
He goes overseas for five days again, and I work through the weekend, collating data about Medicare For All. It’s hard work, and I don’t have much time for anything else, but by the time I’m finished, I have what I need.
Monday rolls around. I’m tired, worn out. Roger looks at me, frowns a little. “Are you ready?” he asks.
I nod, standing, gathering my things. “Ready.”
We head down the hall together in silence. I think he resents me a little bit, since the President has been giving me special tasks.
It doesn’t matter. Roger’s my boss, but only in a supervisory capacity.
At the end of the day, I work for the President.
For my big Daddy.
We stop outside of the Oval Office. The President’s executive secretary announces us, and we’re let inside by a pair of agents that I don’t recognize.
The room’s full of people. Adam sits behind the desk, looking worn out, but he straightens when he sees me. I catch a glimmer of a smile, but he quickly stifles it.
Charles steps forward. “Afternoon, Ms. Thomas, Mr. Christy.”
Roger nods at me and I step forward. “Sir, we have the data you requested.”
He leans forward. “Let’s hear it,” Adam says, and I dive into the numbers.
They aren’t good.
As I read them, I can see his face falling. People are looking at each other, and I can feel the vibe in the room shifting.
I know MFA is a big part of the President’s thinking right now. But the polling reveals one obvious thing.
People don’t understand it. They think it’s too expensive, too big. They don’t want the government dealing with their healthcare. They don’t want the government telling them what to do.
At least that’s how people see it.
“In the end, education is the more vital part of all this,” I conclude. “People are mainly just confused about what Medicare For All would entail, and they’re afraid of paying more for worse care. They think Canadians are flocking to America for treatment, because their system is so broken.”
I finish with a sigh. I know this isn’t new data, but it’s a much more in-depth dive than I did before, and we can’t deny it anymore.
People just don’t understand it.
Adam clears his throat. “Everyone out,” he says. “Except for Maggie.”
Nobody moves. Charles clears his throat. “Sir, if there’s something you want to say, you can—”
“I said, fucking out,” he snaps.
I stare at him, shocked. I can see the anger clear in his eyes. People on the edge of the room start moving instantly, funneling out the door.
Charles glares at Adam. “I know you’re frustrated,” he says softly. “But you should rethink your tone.”
Adam rubs his temples. “Okay, Charles. I’m sorry I snapped at you. But I want to speak with Maggie alone for a moment.”
“It’s not the girl’s fault the numbers are bad.”
“Maybe not.” He sighs. “Give me the room, okay?”
Charles hesitates but finally nods. “Two minutes,” he says.
Roger glares at me and follows Charles out into the hall. The door finally shuts and I’m alone with the President once again.
He gets up and comes around the desk. “More bad news,” he says softly.
“Are you okay?” I ask him. I want to go to him, hug him, kiss him. But I’m afraid.
“No,” he admits. “It’s this job. One stressful situation after another, and there aren’t any victories. Just defeats delayed.”
I frown. “It can’t be all that bad.”
“It’s not. I’m jus
t frustrated.” He sighs, stops in front of me. “I need your help, Maggie.”
“What can I do?”
“Educate people. Or at least, come up with ways to do it.”
“Television ads,” I say immediately.
“No,” he says. “Cheaper.”
I hesitate. “Social media ads?”
“Better,” he answers. “How?”
“They’re inexpensive. We could run ads targeting everyone in the USA with just some text that explains what Medicare For All would be and what it would do.”
“Would people pay attention?”
“Maybe?” I shrug. “I really don’t know.”
He sighs, rubs his temples again. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have snapped at Charles.”
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “He knows the pressure you’re under.”
He sighs. “I shouldn’t have cleared the room and kept you in it, either.”
I hesitate. “I know,” I say.
He sighs again. Kisses me quickly. “It looks bad. But fine. Come up with an answer and save my ass, okay?”
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Good.” He glances at his watch. “Better end this now.” Kisses me again. “Before they start talking.”
“I bet they’re already talking.” Which makes me pause. I cock my head, bite my lip. “Talking. What if we called people?”
He laughs. “Seriously? Telemarketing?”
“Yeah, except, we’ll explain the idea. We won’t ask them for anything.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“Think about it. The biggest block of people that don’t know or understand Medicare For All are older, and they’re the ones that’ll pick up the phone.”
He hesitates. “Good point.”
“It’ll be cheap and easy. We can get a bunch of interns to make calls, give them a short script.”
“That could work,” he says distantly. “Along with social media ads.”
“We’ll get the word out. Grass roots.”
“One conversation at a time.”
“Exactly.”
He nods. “Okay. I’ll run it past my team.”
“Good luck.”
“Now get out of here before Charles loses his mind.”
I grin and turn away. As I head to the door, he says one more thing.
