by Abby Angel
Focusing on his cock again, I bob my head back and forth as fast as I can, pushing through the cramps striking the muscles in my neck. Blindly, I take my forearm off his waist and reach behind me with my hand, trying to feel my way around the coffee table with my fingertips. I stop when I feel the clear surface of a martini glass, a glass from the drinks we had last night, and then I curl my fingers around it, bringing it forward and placing it on the floor between my knees. I don’t need it yet, but I want it ready to go.
"Keep going, Amy… Just keep going," Parker groans, grabbing at my hair. The words come out of his voice as if they were on fire, and I know that he won’t resist me for too long. Soon enough, his cock is going to start pulsing inside my mouth and… Well, and then I’ll be ready for what happens next.
"Don’t fucking stop," he continues, his voice fraught with tension, and I start going even faster than before. I’m going so fast that all I see from my hand is a blur of color and movement, and I’m actually surprised I haven’t broken my neck yet. But even if I did, it’d be totally worth it. When I’m with Parker, everything’s worth it and everything’s perfect.
I suck him until the first spasm runs up his shaft, and then I act fast. I take his cock out of my mouth and just keep on stroking him. With my free hand, I reach for the glass between my knees and grab it, bringing it up to his cock.
"What are you doing?" he asks me, his words coming out as a groan. He has one eyebrow arched in curiosity, but his smile is an amused one.
"Wait and see," I purr at him, moving my hand as fast as I can over his shaft. "Just let go, daddy," I continue, allowing the word daddy to linger on my lips as I speak. And that’s all it takes: the moment my words reach him, his cock starts spasming violently against my fingers, and a thick strand of cum jumps out from its tip.
It his me across the face, a thick white line that goes over my closed lips and reaches for my forehead. I move fast then, angling his cock downward and tilting the glass forward, just in time to get the second strand of cum inside there.
"Fuck," Parker groans as he starts gushing an endless river of cum, his white seed spraying the curved inside of the glass like a tidal wave. I keep on stroking him as he comes, my eyes widening as I watch his cum filling up the glass. And all it takes is a few seconds; the glass is brimming now, heavy beads of cum dripping down from it and caressing my curled fingers.
I let go of his cock when the last drops of cum simply fall down and drip down onto his shaft, and then I bite down on my lower lip and look up at him.
"You’re insane," he grins, his eyes going from mine to the glass I’m holding in my hands.
"I know… and that’s why you can’t resist me," I shoot back at him, going back to my feet carefully and trying not to spill the cum inside of the glass. I climb on top of his body, straddling him again, and bring the glass up to my mouth until it’s just a few inches away from my lips.
"What are you doing?" he asks me, a wide smile brightening his face.
"What do you think?" I whisper, touching my lips to the edge of the glass, and reaching for the white pool of cum with the tip of my tongue. I scoop up just a few drops, and bring my tongue back inside my mouth, closing my eyes as I swallow. His saltiness makes me skin prickle, his raw manly flavor burning its way down my throat.
"This is how crazy you make me," I say, once again placing my lips against the glass. This time, instead of just scooping a few drops of it with my tongue, I tilt the glass toward me and let his seed flow into my mouth, filling it. I smile at him, open my mouth to show him my cum-coated tongue, and then just swallow once more.
Despite my free-of-prejudice background, me being a player in the sex industry and all, I’ve never done anything as crazy as this. But being with Parker just unleashes that wild Amy, crazy whispers of temptation echoing inside my mind and driving me toward that fabled place where there are no limits.
"Take it all," I hear Parker’s voice, and I open my eyes just in time to see him taking the glass out of my hands. He brings it up to my mouth, and I smile as I reach for it with my lips, opening my mouth as wide as I can as Parker tilts the glass toward my mouth.
His seed fills me up in a heartbeat, and thick strands of cum drip down the side of my mouth and chin, making their way down my neck and inevitably going over the curve of my breasts.
Pulling the glass back, Parker empties the rest over my naked chest, painting me in white. I feel a shiver going up my spine as I feel his fluids caressing my naked skin, its warmness like a blanket of pleasure and lust.
"This is so fucking insane," Parker grins, throwing the glass to the side and running both his hands through my hair. "So fucking insane," he repeats, his eyes roaming over my glistening skin as he takes in the scene.
Swallowing the cum inside my mouth, I then grab his face with both my hands and look into his eyes. "It is insane… And so is this," I whisper as I lean into him and, before he can do a thing about it, I shove my cum-coated tongue inside his mouth. Surprisingly, he doesn’t push me back; instead, he kisses me with abandonment, stealing whatever cum is still inside my mouth with his frenetic kiss.
"I love insane," he tells me, pulling back from my kiss and smiling, his lips glistening from the cum. Moving fast, he grabs me by the hips and forces me to roll to the side, laying me down on the couch. "And now someone will have to clean all this mess…" he whispers, his eyes trained on the strands of cum making their way down my stomach and straight toward the wet space between my thighs.
Lying down between my legs, he forces me to spread them wide, and then his mouth is on me. He lays it on top of my pussy, sucking my drenched folds inside his mouth, and then he runs his tongue up to my clit, circling it over and over again before he goes on his way.
I run my fingers through his hair as he licks me, and then I let out a purred moan as his tongue climbs up to my belly, scooping up the strands of cum dripping down my body. Licking me dry, he takes his time as his lips and tongue roam over my stomach before finally going for my tits. There, he climbs their curve with the tip of his tongue, and then wraps his lips around one nipple and sucks it dry, lapping at it with his tongue.
Lying down on the couch, I grin as I feel his mouth caressing my skin, but then Parker crushes that grin into submission by pressing his lips against mine. I tremble slightly as I feel the cum on his lips, proof of how insane the two of us have gotten, and then I just let my tongue dance around his over a blanket of thick cum.
Lost in our kiss, I let all worry fade away into nothingness.
At least for now, we’ve escaped the real world; our hiding place is both of our naked bodies.
Parker
It's been three days since Susan Duran left. Three days since she detonated that bomb in my lap and said she was quitting this campaign and left me scrambling.
Luckily, I'm not one to take things sitting down. I'm fucking proactive.
I'm standing at the podium, and I look over at my new campaign manager, Megan Wright. She's standing off to the side, giving me a secret thumbs up, as if that's supposed to make me feel any better about this press conference.
Megan is Susan Duran's opposite in every way. She has a head full of big curls that sway like the ocean when she talks.
Susan was a planner, the kind of person who ate checklists for breakfast. Bounced bullet lists instead of basketballs.
Do you see where I'm fucking going with this?
Megan is a planner too, I suppose, but on the opposite end of the spectrum. With her, we make a plan by throwing it up in the air, and then sort of wing it through the details falling all around us.
This is one of those 'just winging it' moments, and she's smiling and sipping a Pepsi and I'm over here, in front of hundreds of eager reporters, hoping I can pull this off.
But I think Megan's vision is good. It should work. I've just got to pull it off.
She's advised me to remain focused on the issues. The fucking things that matter to the people of this city
she says—jobs, taxes, infrastructure, family.
I can practically hear Megan's words echoing in my brain as I straighten my tie. "Whatever you do, stay away from your private life," she repeated to me just minutes ago, as I watched her hair sway. "I mean it Parker; don't let the conversation go there."
I take a deep breath, straighten my tie, put on my game face, and begin.
"Thank you all for joining me here today," I say. "I think we can all agree that Congress should hear your concerns as it pertains to increasing jobs in this city we call home, fixing our IT infrastructure, and cutting taxes. I'm prepared to be your voice in the Senate."
I give this opener and look around at the crowd. Normally, I hear a few cheers, and maybe a few claps, but right now, it's crickets. People are staring with blank faces. The silence is unnerving. It's a completely different vibe than the last press conference I gave.
I continue, "Today, I'd like to talk about—" but a red-faced reporter wearing square, black-rimmed glasses immediately interrupts me.
"Excuse me, Mr. Trask, what is your relationship to your advisor, Amy?"
I look over at the report in question, immediately spotting him in the crowd. "I'd like to keep the discussion on the issues that matter," I reply.
The reporter pushes back, "I think I speak for everyone when I say that's an issue that matters to all of the citizens of New York City."
"I've said this before, but I want to make it clear that my private life does not concern the public. That's final. I don't give a fuck about what the media thinks about me. As you all know, at the end of the day, I'm a mayor who get results for this city."
Another reporter chimes in, ignoring my stance on privacy, and says, "Mr. Trask, is it true that Amy is your daughter, and that she's been staying with you at Gracie Mansion?"
"That's incorrect," I say. "She's my stepdaughter and—"
The red-faced reporter cuts me off before I can get another word in. "Wouldn't you agree that having personal relations with your stepdaughter sends the wrong message to citizens?"
"Well, that's not what—" I try to say, adjusting the microphone, but am cut off again.
"Isn't it against state rules to be undergoing such an affair within the walls of Gracie Mansion? Not to mention, don't you agree it's morally corrupt?"
"No comment," I say, trying to move on. This is going downhill fast. This definitely isn't where I wanted our discussion to go today.
"Mr. Trask, just answer the question," the reporters continue to chime in.
"I repeat, I won't be answering personal questions. We should remain focused on the real issues."
"But Mr. Trask, what are you really hiding from the citizens of New York City? Why won't you simply answer our questions?"
"This press conference is over," I say, raising a hand to the crowd. I realize there's no use trying to steer a sinking ship.
I can hear boos from the crowd, and a jumble of questions still rumbling through the reporters. But I wave them off and walk backstage, joining Megan and Amy.
I wipe a thin line of sweat that I didn't even realize had begun to gather on my forehead.
"Well, that felt like being lowered into shark-infested waters inside of a chum bucket," I say, looking at Megan and Amy. "Fuck, that crowd was out for blood. I couldn't get a word in."
Megan's pacing back and forth, and her confidence seems to have faded faster than a new pair of jeans.
"What's wrong?" I ask her, concern growing on my face. "I know this press conference didn't go as planned, but I have a feeling there's something you aren't fucking telling me."
With that, she looks up, holding my gaze and says, "I hate to say it, but we have bigger problems."
"Bigger fucking problems?" I ask, eyes wide. I honestly can't think of anything worse than this press conference.
"It's Susan Duran," she says. "She was seen going into the Governor's campaign office Downtown."
I look over at Amy.
She's standing next to Megan and nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the next. I've never seen her look so nervous.
"Don't worry," I tell Amy, placing the palm of my hand gently against her cheek. When I do that, she walks over and rests her head on my chest.
"Whatever comes … we'll face it together," I say.
Amy
"Her poll numbers have been climbing steadily," I sigh, waving at the stack of papers in front of me with a frown. His staff provided us with the last analysis on the Senate race and, despite Parker's numbers being as solid as ever, my mom is just snapping at our heels.
It’s been a week since Susan left.
"Yeah, I can see that," he frowns, peering over my shoulder at the graph in front of me. We’ve been pouring over these documents for the last half an hour and, even though we haven’t said it out loud, we both know that with the numbers my mom is pulling right now, all she needs to do is use the relationship Parker and I have to secure her position in the polls. Which means that we have a sword hanging over our necks, and no idea when it’s coming down to cut off both of our heads.
"Still, unless something major changes, I’d say you’re well on your way to secure the Senate," I smile, swiveling the chair around so that I’m facing him. I’m trying to be optimistic, but it isn’t easy. Especially now that Susan jumped ship.
"Yeah, let’s focus on what we can do to --" Parker falls silent as someone knocks on the door to his office. "Yeah? Come in," he says, and the door swings open to reveal a tall and slender woman wearing jeans and a loose blouse, her hair pulled into a messy bun, with a few strands of her curly hair framing her face. Megan Wright, the new campaign manager, doesn’t seem to really care about looking good; she just cares about getting the job done. Which, as far as I’m concerned, sounds perfect.
"I think you should turn on the TV," she says to Parker, an excited smile on her face. Behind her, I see all of Parker’s staff huddled together in the center of the room, staring at one of the flat TVs mounted on the wall.
"Why? What happened?" I ask Megan as Parker reaches for the remote and, with one click, turns it on.
"See for yourself," Megan smiles, and then simply slides out of the room with a grin and closes the door behind her, leaving Parker and I to see what’s going on.
"What the…?" Parker whispers to himself, turning the TV toward one of the news channels and sitting down on the chair by my side. On the screen, a middle-aged reporter with white hair is talking about my mother, and under him there’s a red stripe with bold white letters, a headline that reads Backlash for Meelios.
"Turn it up," I tell Parker, but I don’t give him the time to do it. I snag the remote off his hands and turn up the volume, my unblinking eyes focused on the screen.
"Governor Katherine Meelios is having a rough night," the newscaster says, an amused tone to his voice. "After a well-received speech in front of a crowd mostly composed of veterans, all was going well for the New York Governor when a microphone suddenly caught her off guard. Let’s see the footage," he nods at the camera, and then the screen pans to a packed conference room.
My mother’s on the stage, shaking a few hands from the veterans that have come up on the stage, and then she leans toward one of her assistants and whispers something. Except her whisper isn’t really a whisper; the microphone in front of her picks up what she’s saying and the words echo throughout the room.
"How long is this going to take?" she asks the assistant, smiling to the veteran that’s shaking her hand. "I’m tired of these idiots. I can’t stand all this Army stupidity," she continues, and then she snaps her head toward the microphone in front of her, realizing that it has amplified each and every one of her words. A loud and confused boo takes over the crowd, and then the image pans back to the newscaster.
"Well, I guess we can put down Governor Meelios on the list of people having a worse day than us, right, Michelle?" he asks his co-presenter with an amused smile. "And now, let’s cut to the Puppy Fair taking place at
the --" I turn the TV to mute and let the remote slip from my fingers and fall on the desk.
"Oh my God…" I whisper, turning toward Parker. "Did you hear what I just heard?"
"I did… And so did everyone else," Parker chuckles, pointing with his head at the door to his office. His staff’s whistling and clapping, almost as if they’re celebrating a home run from their favorite baseball team. Which, really, is pretty much what this feels like.
My mother really fucked up this time. A faux pas like this won’t be easily resolved, and it’ll probably be enough to sink her bid to the Senate. Of all people, she had to go and pick on the veterans. I can probably imagine her in her hotel room right now, tearing her hair out as she replays the images I’ve just seen over and over again. I figure the guy in charge of the microphones is going to be on the hunt for a new job soon enough.
"I hope this does it for her," I tell Parker, taking a deep breath and feeling as if someone has taken a heavy weight off my chest. If her faux pas ruins her bid, she’ll have to drop out, which means she won’t need to come after Parker and I anymore.
"Well, we should probably keep our guard up all the same," Parker replies with an easy smile, and I can tell that some of the stress caused by this election has been lifted off of his shoulders.
"I guess the road toward the Senate is going to be an easy one now," I say, getting up from my seat and closing the distance between Parker and I. I grab the hemline of my dress and, hiking it up just a few inches, I climb on top of him, straddling him. "Senator Trask… I like the sound of it."
"You do, huh?" he whispers, his hands trailing down the side of my body and going over the curve of my ass.
"I do…" I purr. "I can be your intern, Senator. And this particular intern would love to do her country a service and fuck her Senator," I continue, biting down on my lower lip teasingly.
