Penetrated by the President’s Twitter Feed
M.J. Edwards
What’s the only thing sexier than sex?... Power
For Diane
She knows what she did
Beth Boiker laid on the bed, her face buried in the pillow as her next-door neighbour’s husband ploughed her like she was a field of wheat and he was a combine harvester. He pulled her hair and smashed her ass with an open palm, making animalistic sounds—but not sexy animal sounds like swine grunts, but unappealing sounds like the caw of a parrot.
His cock rhythmically stroked the inside of her damp vagina like a violinist playing a sombre tune. She could feel it pumping and swelling inside her as he cawed away with a clump of her hair in his balled fist.
But none of it did anything for poor Beth.
She was a young, sexy, buxom blonde who deserved good sex. But good sex took time to find and that was the one thing Beth didn’t have in ample supply, unlike her large breasts and jiggly ass (but she did have a small waist).
This was the third time this week she’d let Trevvy come over whilst his wife was away on important business work, to let her down with disappointing sex. Sure, Trevvy seemed to enjoy himself, but once he was done he’d be straight out the door, leaving Beth with nothing more than a handshake and a looming sense of sadness.
You see, Trevvy had a boring job like an insurance salesman or a banker or something; not like Beth, who was one of the world's top artificial intelligence virtual reality development coders. In fact, Beth wasn’t even sure what Trevvy did for a living, only that it involved paperwork and doing everything proper and by the book.
Which was probably why he did sex in exactly the same way.
It was always the same:
He’d knock on the door with a sheepish smile on his face, like a dog begging for table scraps.
He’d tell her that his wife, Beth’s best friend, was away on business and wouldn’t be home for a bit.
Beth would let him in and they’d start by making out on the couch.
Then he’d do some motorboating of her breasts.
Then he’d take out his penis, and place it in her hand like triathletes passing the baton mid-race.
She’d stroke it for a while but always thought it felt a little strange, like a raw, uncoiled Cumberland sausage wrapped in damp string. It was softer than she’d like, and never felt as strong or as powerful as she needed. She liked a cock to feel immense and dangerous, like a lit firecracker which could explode in her face at any moment. But unfortunately, Trevvy’s cock just didn’t have that thrill factor. Nevertheless, it was all she could get at that moment in time, so it would have to do.
Then she’d take his cock in her mouth. He’d push down on the back of her head, but his cock was so average and sad it didn’t make her gag, which was something else she enjoyed.
Then he’d suck and tickle the nipples on her boobies. It was at this point that Trevvy would begin to question if Beth was enjoying herself, because her nipples remained soft and pliable like a recently boiled bean. But Beth would lie, and tell Trevvy she was well into it, because bumping uglies with Trevvy was the only action she got these days.
Her work at the institute was just too important to slow down, meaning beggars couldn’t be choosers when it came to sex.
Then, Trevvy would take her by the hand and lead her upstairs. Beth was desperate to be fucked right there on the couch, but Trevvy said it felt weird to be stared at by Beth’s cat, Mingo.
Fuck, thought Beth, this guy was so boring he wouldn’t even let the cat watch.
Once they were upstairs the rest would always go the same way. Trevvy ripped away Beth’s jeans, then dropped to his knees and slobbered over her pussy like a drunk university student devouring a midnight kebab. And that was about as wet as Beth’s pussy got, but thankfully it was enough as it was the next part which was always the most boring for Beth.
Trevvy span her around and tossed her to the bed then crawled on top of her, yanking up her hips so her butt poked into the sky.
Then he slowly pushed his love wand into her cave of desires. In and out. In and out. Then he tried to push it into her bottom, but Beth clenched and told him no. If she couldn’t get off on vaginal sexing with Trevvy, then there was no way she could if he did her up the bottom. She was yet to pop her bum cherry and was reserving that honor for somebody who could really get her off.
As he thrusted, Trevvy’s un-muscular waist clashed against Beth’s supple bottom, waves of sexy flesh rippling up and down her body.
But unfortunately, that was the only wave of anything rippling up and down Beth’s body.
Even pulling on her hair and slapping her ass cheeks like an unloved step-child didn’t do anything for her. He was trying his best, bless him, but no matter what Trevvy did, it just didn’t push any of Beth’s buttons.
In fact, Trevvy didn’t even realise when Beth picked up her phone from the bedside table and began scrolling through Twitter.
Beth saw a couple of memes.
She saw some news and current affairs.
She saw…
Ooh, she saw—
What was this feeling in her nether regions? A wet wetness so sleek that Trevvy’s cock glided in and out of her pussy like a well-oiled piston engine. Her clit engorged and she snatched at her breast with her free hand, using the other to scroll through her Twitter feed.
And, she soon realised that it was her Twitter feed that was the cause for this exciting new titillation.
The tweets were from none other than the President of the United States.
OUR GREAT COUNTRY IS UNDER THREAT. STAND UP TO THE LIBS WHO WANT TO TAKE YOUR FREEDOMS.
Reading such strong, powerful words made Beth wetter than something that was really wet. She was so wet that she couldn’t even think about something that was really wet. Not that it mattered, because her vagina was currently the wettest thing anyway.
She read on:
China will pay for what they have done to our fantastic nation. Just like the Mexicans and the Canadians and the Danish have had to pay. They will all pay.
Beth bit her lip.
Her vagina clenched around Trevvy’s member and his parroting caw morphed into a low growl, like the sound Mingo made when Beth accidentally stepped on his tail.
THE FAKE NEWS MEDIA WILL DO ANYTHING TO RUIN ME. SAD.
Beth moaned.
We are a great nation! UNITE!
She screamed.
MAGA!
She came. A feeling of sparks rushed from her vagina to legs, causing her to quiver all over. It was a feeling she had never felt before.
Beth collapsed flat onto the mattress before Trevvy even had chance to finish. As she lay there, he finished himself off and came on her beautiful round bottom, then said thank you and wiped her down with a baby wipe and went home.
He did this all whilst Beth continued to lie there, her phone in her hand, unable to move as she struggled to comprehend this strange, new sensation.
That was the moment Beth realised she was turned on by the most powerful power in the entire world.
The President’s Twitter feed.
***
The next morning it was Saturday, but when you’re West Dakota’s leading artificial intelligence virtual reality development coder, weekends become a thing of the past. Beth would have liked nothing more than a day off, frolicking with her friends, but she had recently received a tech grant from Computechnology, the biggest computer company in Silicon Valley, after promising them that she was working on a new AI programme which would revolutionise the world. And when you accept a multi-million dollar grant with the exp
ectation of delivering results, you do everything you can to make that happen.
Including working on your day off.
Beth and her company had formed the Institute of AI and Future Technology, a series of office spaces and development studios in the middle of West Dakota’s bustling AI district, but as it was Saturday everyone was off having fun which meant Beth had the place to herself.
She walked into the Institute, marveling at all the fancy technology around her. Rows and rows of computers and monitors and screens and displays were all blinking and flashing and whirring. It was like she had stepped right into a living computer board, with technology practically hanging from the walls and the ceiling.
It was the technology which was going to help Beth change the world and help the emergency services save lives in dangerous situations. Progress was being made, but there was still some way to go.
Hence why she was working on a Saturday, time she could have been spending out looking for good sex (hence why she had to make do with Trevvy from next door).
Beth fell into her computer chair and turned on her computer. She logged in and began typing code furiously. She was easily the best coder in the region, her code being flawless and groundbreaking every time.
On the desk beside Beth was a set of VR (which stands for virtual reality) goggles. She put them on, along with her special VR gloves, and continued to work in her virtual space, building code and working on getting one step closer to improving the tech.
After an hour of working in her virtual space, Beth felt a twinge in her underpants. She bit her lip, thinking of the night before when Trevvy had rammed her like she was a castle door in the middle of a medieval battle, getting off only when she looked at the President’s Twitter feed. She couldn’t stop imagining the immeasurable power and confidence that came with being able to write publicly like that.
The unnecessary display of flexing the muscles, the beating of his chest, the desperation to remind people of his dominant alphaness.
Oh my word, thought Beth. He displayed such power.
His wife was certainly a lucky lady. Yes, sirree.
Beth shook her head. She had to get those mucky thoughts out of her mind. If she was going to meet her deadlines and change the world, she couldn’t waste work time by thinking about the sexy President’s incredible displays of power.
No.
No, Beth.
Snap out of it.
Beth tossed the VR gear onto the desk and stood up. She had to get away from her desk for a moment, clear her mind, and work on something else.
Beth crossed the office and entered the animatronic robot department. They had been working in conjunction with Beth, so that once her groundbreaking code was finished, they would be able to apply it to the animatronic robots and put their work into practice. And it was all going swimmingly, too, as their animatronic robots were the best the world had ever seen, designed to enter emergency situations like into fires or during bomb threats, and save lives without risking other lives.
Beth switched on the closest bot (short for robot) and it puffed out its glorious, manly chest. The greatest thing about their robots was their ability to adapt, displaying things on microscopic nano-screens covering their bodies, giving them the ability to alter their appearances. Right now, the bot in front of her looked like an entry in a greased-up bodybuilding competition.
Beth tinkered and toyed with the robot as she worked.
And slowly, the tingle in her vagina returned.
Was it the chiseled, god-like body displayed realistically on the bot? Or was it…
Was it him?
It was, thought Beth.
It was him.
Or, more specifically, his words.
The President’s Twitter feed.
So strong. So powerful. So commanding and authoritarian and commanding.
The President’s Twitter feed.
Before she’d even realised what was happening, Beth’s hand had slipped down into her jeans and had pushed up and inside her.
NO, BETH.
This is no time to be fingering yourself, she thought. This is work time!
But… but she couldn’t concentrate.
She was working with such a volatile piece of technology. One wrong stroke of the key, and it could result in months of setback or worse… the programme could develop an error and respond in ways which even she couldn’t control.
She had to get this uncontrollable feeling at bay. She couldn’t risk her life's work. Otherwise, if she didn’t, then she’d never be able to deliver what Computechnology was expecting.
Beth plopped her fingers out of her vagina, wiped them on a cloth and left the animatronic robotic department, leaving the bot on because she’d only be gone a few minutes. What she had planned wouldn’t take long at all.
Beth fell back into her chair, unbuttoned her jeans, and zipped down her fly.
Even just thinking about what she was going to do sent fizzles up her clit, like she’d just poured an entire sachet of pop rocks onto her vagina.
Beth picked up the VR goggles and slid them over her eyes.
Then she placed the gloves on her hand.
And she…
...she logged into Twitter and navigated to the President’s Twitter feed.
The first tweet loaded up and Beth felt that familiar rush of excitement.
I am quite possibly the most mistreated President of all time. The fake news media harass me and torment me for what? Sad.
Beth drew in a breath.
Her heart beat a little faster.
Her pussy got a little wetter.
She scrolled down the feed.
Losers like Sleepy Joe are everything that is wrong with this country. VOTE WITH YOUR HEART.
Lust coursed through Beth’s veins. Her nipples ached to be kissed as her pussy oozed with natural, oily lubricants, desperate for a cock to be pushed inside. Instead, Beth had to make do with her fingers, her calloused, coders fingers that were more used to stroking a keyboard instead of the smooth wall inside her vagina. Smooth like Jello made with too much gelatin.
Beth scrolled down to reveal the next tweet:
It is unilaterally agreed that I am the greatest President this country has ever seen. Not just this country, but any country. And is the media thankful? No.
Beth forced her fingers so far inside that the only thing stopping her from going further was the strap of her watch. She pawed at the inside of her sticky, gummy vagina, like she was both the puppet and the puppeteer, desperate to make herself dance with agonising ecstasy.
So close…
So close…
Perhaps just one more tweet.
I HAVE DONE MORE FOR THIS COUNTRY IN FOUR YEARS THAN SLEEPY JOE WILL DO IN TWO LIFETIMES.
Beth shrieked as a knee-buckling orgasm pulsed through her body from her vagina, to her brain, and back to her vagina again. She arched her back, gasping for air as she pulled her fingers out of her pussy and tried to catch herself before she tumbled out of the chair.
But something wasn’t right. Despite having both hands gripping the sides of the chair, Beth still had a rush of pleasure lapping at her beef curtains. It rose still. If the orgasm she had just experienced was a wave crashing against rocks, what she was experiencing now was more akin to a tsunami battering a coastal village somewhere in a foreign land.
Why was this happening? Why was her orgasm getting… stronger?
Beth raised her hands and pulled the VR goggles from her face.
There, with his face between her legs and a hungry tongue gnawing at her vagina, was… no… it couldn’t be.
It… it just couldn’t be…
But it was.
It was… the President.
But not the President Beth knew from the news.
It was the President she knew… from her fantasies.
He had a strong, strapping chest, like a kangaroo’s. His face was chiseled, with a stern expression, and his eyes locked onto B
eth’s like he was trying to read her emotions.
The President stood, blue in complexion, black text streaking across his mottled skin like she had seen when scrolling through her phone. She saw words like SAD and LOSER and GREATEST and SLEEPY JOE and CHINA and VOTE. And then she realised who he was.
Or should that be, what he was.
He was the President’s Twitter feed.
Beth stared deep into his eyes and he stared right back, her vagina juices oozing from his square chin. He grunted like a hungry bear who was eyeing up his next meal. Was that next meal going to be… her?
Beth’s chest rose and sunk with each deep breath, her enormous titties bouncing to and fro. For the first time, the President’s Twitter feed looked away from her, eyeing up her breasts with the will and intent of a man who knew what he wanted.
And he took it.
The President’s Twitter feed snatched at Beth’s top, tearing it open to reveal her luxurious boobs. He leant it and began gently masticating her right nipple, as Beth leaned back and allowed his warmth to cover her like a comforting blanket.
There was a clatter as the VR goggles clattered to the floor. Beth gasped, but the President’s Twitter feed took it as a chorus of appreciation and chewed on her nipple like it was a piece of jerky. It hurt, but it also felt so good.
Suddenly, it made sense to Beth what was happening.
During her earlier intense orgasm, she must have accidentally knocked her keyboard, confusing the algorithm and instructing the animatronic robot to come to her aid. The advanced AI would have seen what Beth was looking at in her VR goggles, and interpreted that what she was doing required help.
And so, it was helping.
Helping the only way it seemed to understand.
Helping her to achieve the biggest, most intensest climax she had ever experienced.
Imagine, if you will, that you were stood within the centre of a thunderstorm. Now imagine that that thunderstorm is condensed right down to fit within your vagina, and all the thunderclaps and bolts of lightning were electrifying your clit and ovaries and hymen and womb all at once, which in turn made you convulse like you were having fifty epileptic fits simultaneously.
Penetrated by the President's Twitter Feed Page 1
