He winked at me.
“Well, let’s just say that I enjoy a lot of different activities,” came that smooth voice. “From white tie events with the Queen of England present to your local dive bar with different beers on tap. I’m a man of diverse tastes,” he said lightly. “What can I say?”
But still I was puzzled.
“But you could have gone to Scores or Elevated,” was my puzzled question. “Why the Flamingo? It’s so low brow.”
He merely shrugged again.
“Why do I like McDonald’s, even though I have personal chefs cooking for me at the White House? Sometimes, a man’s character is formed long before he sets foot in 1600 Pennsylvania, sweetheart. And I grew up on Big Macs and hush puppies, so it’s too late for me to change.”
Suddenly, I remembered how he was famed on the campaign trial for eating dozens of fries and burgers. In fact, the whole junk food thing had endeared him to voters as a “regular American” who was “just like them.”
“So you weren’t pretending when you said McDonald’s apple pies are your favorite food?” I asked slowly. “That was real?”
He grinned again before taking another sip of whiskey.
“It was real,” he confirmed. “Besides, those things are really good. Have you had one before?”
I blushed a little. In fact, I’d just grabbed a pie yesterday, devouring it while I walked home from work.”
“Yeah,” I admitted shyly. “They’re real tasty.”
“See?” he asked with a pleased smile. “Now what could be more American than a warm apple pie?”
And I had to say that Thomas had a point. I know that McDonald’s isn’t good for you, and that their pies are loaded with sugar. But as a girl who likes to eat, sometimes the syrupy goodness paired with a flaky crust is exactly what you need. A sudden thought occurred to me. How in the world had we just bonded over Mickey D’s apple pies?
It’s his charm, the voice in my head whispered. This man got fifty million people to vote for him last year. He knows exactly how to build rapport to garner votes. You’d vote him now, wouldn’t you?
I flushed because it was true. This man was a master politician, and I was being played just like any of his constituents. But I had to keep my guard up because this wasn’t a political rally or a barn-raising event. This was business. So I took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye.
“What can I do for you, Mr. President? Am I here for something in particular?”
He smiled again, although there was a gleam in those blue eyes now.
“Well, what do you think you’re here for, sweetheart?”
Hmm, very clever. Answering a question with a question. I took a deep breath.
“To be honest, I don’t know,” was my honest response. “I know I was supposed to meet a client for maybe dinner or drinks. I figured he’d put the moves on me, but that’s where everything went off track. Because I never figured he’d be you,” was my slow reply.
Thomas swirled his glass thoughtfully, the amber liquid forming graceful waves.
“Well, why don’t you pretend that I’m just another guy?” he asked. “Someone who’s interested in getting to know you?”
I took a deep breath.
“Honestly sir, I don’t know if I can do that. After all, how? You’re you, and I’m just me.”
“That’s it exactly,” he said, his gaze suddenly direct. “You’re you and I’m me. Nothing’s different. You’re a very beautiful woman whom I’d like to get to know, and this shouldn’t be different from any other interaction. Within reason, of course.”
I swallowed heavily because the truth was that I was insanely attracted to this man, but I had no idea how to behave. He was the leader of the free world for crying out loud! What was I supposed to do?
But President Burke is used to fame and adulation and he knows how to make people comfortable around him. So the big man leaned back and smiled.
“Sweetheart, why don’t you dance for me?” he suggested, that massive form relaxed. “I’d like to see more of what you have.”
I gulped.
“Um sure,” was my hesitant reply. “Should I set my drink down here?”
He nodded silently, blue gaze already deepening to a cobalt.
“Anywhere is fine,” came that slightly sibilant rasp. “Just get comfortable sweetheart. Do what you do best.”
I took a deep breath because dancing isn’t what I do best. In fact, my ambition is to get a master’s in library science, and to maybe become a writer after that. Or an academic librarian. But this didn’t seem like the right time to share my aspirations. After all, he only knew me as Pearl Evanescence from the Pink Flamingo. Oh wait. Maybe he knew everything about me already, given that they’d already done some type of stealth background check.
Stop over-thinking things, the voice in my head warned. You’re driving yourself crazy with all this back and forth. Just get out there and dance. That’s what the client wants, and you need to deliver, especially because this is the President of the United States.
So I took a deep breath and smiled once more, putting down my purse before standing.
“Um, is there any music?” I asked. “Or I can dance to no music, it’s no problem.”
In return, Thomas flicked a console by his side and the latest strains of a jazz piece came on. Perfect. Usually, I danced to pre-chosen songs during my sets, but this was fine. There was a workable beat, and the strains of the melody were classy and refined.
So taking a deep breath, I began to sway my hips, front and back and then from side to side. My hands found the tie of my trench coat and making eye contact with the big man, I loosened the stays before slipping the canvas material off my narrow shoulders.
“Atta girl,” the alpha breathed, letting his eyes roam all over my form. “You got it, sweetheart.”
Because I knew what he was seeing. I’ve put on weight since moving to the city, but fortunately, it’s mostly gone to all the right parts. My boobs are huge Double Ds, swinging along in time the music, and I’ve got a giant ass that bumps when I walk. Plus, my thighs. They’re meaty but luscious, and more than one customer has tried to take a bite while I dance onstage.
But right now, there was only one client and I took a deep breath, trying to center myself even as I moved in time to the music. Calm, came the voice in my head. Just because he’s our country’s commander-in-chief doesn’t mean he’s any different from a normal man. That was true. I needed to do what I did best, so I closed my eyes and focused on the music, letting the beat take over.
Running my hands through the curls draped over my back, I swung around so that my back was to the man before reaching behind and slowly, unsnapping my bra. Oh yeah. The lacey fabric almost popped free, my ta-tas wanted to be out. And slowly, I slid the material down my arms before dropping the brassiere to the floor.
“You wanna see, big guy?” I teased, looking over my shoulder slyly while still swaying my hips. “You want the goods?
Thomas didn’t even reply. Instead, one hand crept down to his waistband, popping the button on his pants. Oh good. He was into it and I smirked a bit before swinging around to face him and dropping my hands.
And shit, but my boobs practically exploded in his face then, they were so huge and luscious.
“Fuck baby,” he groaned, now stroking the massive pole at his waist. “Fuck yeah, sweetheart.”
I tittered a little although my heart had started racing. Because oh my god, his shaft was huge. And I mean, extra-extra large. Who knew that our president was packing? They usually say that powerful men have small wieners, but definitely not in this case.
And the more I looked at him, the more my pussy ran. Because the man was gorgeous, hands down. Those eyes shot pure blue fire, roaming all over my curves, as his chest and abs hardened with lust. Plus I just couldn’t ignore the missile between his hands. It was locked, loaded, and ready to fire, and I couldn’t wait to get a taste.
But
you’re not on birth control! the voice in my head screamed. You never touch clients in that way, so you’re not even on the pill. But I knew that tonight was different. This alpha was so compelling that I couldn’t resist him, not with the way that powerful male body beckoned to me.
So with an appreciative glance at his dripping cock, I licked my lips lasciviously while toying with the edges of my g-string.
“You ready for this, big guy?” I asked breathily. “You ready for some action?”
He growled, sparks shooting from those eyes.
“Sure am, sweetheart,” came his strangled reply. “Let it fly and let me see.”
And with a small mewl, I wiggled out of the g-string, slowly smoothing the material over my thighs and down my calves, before stepping out of them entirely. Oh god. It was embarrassing, but a long line of pussy cum connected the crotch of the g-string to my cunt, evidence of my desire. With a tantalizing finger, I reached down and broke the string, letting the sticky goop wrap around my digit before raising it to my mouth.
“Mmm,” was my delighted purr. “Tastes good.”
He growled in return, eyes never leaving my form.
“Fuck you’re wet,” was all the president said. “Fuck yeah.”
Oh, but I was more than wet, and I wanted to show him. So spinning on my heels, I bent over and spread my legs, revealing everything from clit to back hole.
“You like what you see?” I murmured, peering at him from over one shoulder. “It’s a full-service view.”
Never mind that my words didn’t exactly make sense. Because Thomas’s hand at his cock started moving furiously, wet sucking sounds filling the room as he rubbed his shaft.
“Oh fuck, baby,” he moaned deliriously, just about to explode. “Oh fuck fuck fuck.”
But I wasn’t gonna let him blow right onto the carpet. By my estimation, he was close already. Maybe even a little too close. So abandoning my plans of doing a little more dancing, I backed up to him until I was sitting in his lap, my back to his chest.
“Oh,” came my breathy murmur as his hand reached around to stroke my clit. “Oh yeah, just like that.”
But again, Thomas was too close. I could feel his hard member rigid and aroused against the small of my back, already leaking furiously with pre-cum. So levering myself up a little, I reached between my legs and gripped that member, guiding it into my cunt.
“Ohhh fuck,” came his harsh growl in my ear. “Oh fuck yeah. Sit on it, baby. Yeah, that’s what I need.”
And with a mewl, it happened. It was hard, for sure. His member was so big and aroused that I couldn’t get it in myself at first. The head was caught in my hole and yet I couldn’t work myself down.
“You’re too big,” was my breathless gasp, stuck there with only an inch of him in my pussy. “Oh god!”
“Relax, sweetheart,” he rasped into my ear. “I’m big but you’ll stretch, baby girl. Your pussy’s elastic and it can handle the big ones. Just breathe.”
And with that, I tried, I really did. My eyes squeezed shut as I focused on where our bodies met while trying to move my hips down more. Fortunately, Thomas is an old hand at helping girls slide down his dick, and one big fist slid around my waist before reaching between my thighs to rub along the bottom of my clit.
“Eeee!” I squealed, electric shocks running through my cunt. “Oh unnh, that feels good.”
“Yeah, you just squirted in my hand,” he panted into my ear. “Plus, fuck honey, your juices are running down my dick, there’s just so much.”
And with that, the slide began. It was still difficult, even in my aroused state. Because the president has a donkey dong and I squealed and slipped, writhing as my pussy strained.
“Oooh, aiee!” I shrieked again. “This is gonna rip me apart!”
“No it won’t,” he breathed in my ear, his voice insistent. “Just relax sweetheart.”
And with one final delicious rub against my clit, he was in. As in balls-deep, all the way in. I mewled again, loving the tight fit and how he filled me up. And slowly, we began to move in the dance of love, the President gripping my hips as I bucked and moaned, that big shaft sliding in and out of my wet cunt.
“Oh yeah,” I panted, squeezing him tight with my internal muscles. “Oh god, yeah.”
He was just as close to the edge.
“Fuck baby,” came that harsh growl in my ear. “You feel so fucking good.”
And with one last powerful thrust, we both burst. Thomas pushed me down onto his cock, the huge member impaling me every which way, and I screamed with ecstasy, bursting around the hard member.
“Unnnh!” was my delighted gasp, pussy convulsing in a series of tremors. “Oh god!”
The dark man gave it up as well. His dick twitched once inside me before ejaculating, hot ropes of cum blasting my interior walls.
“FUCK,” the man growled. “Aw shit.”
But the thing is that Thomas is quick. Because he pulled me off in the middle of one great spurt and pushed me down so that my ass pointed his way. And then moving quickly, that penis was directed to my back hole, and the man began blasting into my bottom.
“Unnh!” I cried in surprise even as my pussy continued to contract. “What? Why?”
But it felt good nonetheless, that hot cream filling me up every which way. Because Thomas was so virile, powerful, and manly … and I’d take him any way I could get.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thomas
Oh fuck, what have I done? Because I never actually come in the girls’ pussies. You can’t be too careful these days. The Secret Service does the background check, and sure, the females are clean. But there wasn’t time to ascertain whether or not Susie was on the pill, so I resolved to have some consensual fun without actually coming in her sweetest spot.
But that’s the thing. I underestimated the beautiful brunette because once she got naked and started showing me her holes, I couldn’t resist. I had to have her, and fuck! But she felt so good. That pussy was insanely tight, and I could barely get my cock into that tiny twat. But once I was in, there was no stopping, no way, no how. I pumped that beautiful body up and down my shaft, balls high and tight and ready to shoot.
And shoot I did. The first spray came and I blasted the beautiful female as she moaned luxuriously, her cunt flexing and spasming while sucking my sperm deep inside. But oh shit! This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. So moving quickly, I pulled her off my dick before pushing down on the small of her back so that her anus was available.
And no, this wasn’t some deep backdoor action with no prep. Instead, I just put the tip of my penis right at her rim and let myself go there. Because that’s always my out. If I lose control, I can blast into their bottoms, and it’s no sweat. No one’s getting pregnant, and both parties are safe.
Except with Susie, it didn’t exactly turn out that way. After we were done, she sat up once more, her skin moist and glistening, big boobs still heaving with pleasure.
“Mmm,” she murmured, shooting a sly smile over one shoulder. “That was good.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” I rumbled, lightly tapping her anus with my spent dick. A couple more drops fell out and I swear, but the deep brown sucked it in, desperate for my man milk.
And Susie did me one better. Leaning forwards again, she balanced her shoulders on my knees while reaching back to part her buttocks.
“See?” she said coyly. “I have you dripping from both holes now.”
And fuck, but it was true. Creamy white jizz oozed from both her ass and her vag, and shit, but all I wanted to do was to lick it up. I wanted to eat her cream pies, tasting where my sperm had been. But that’s the thing. Time was almost up. Her two hours was just about done, and I needed to get the girl ready to go. So reluctantly, I stroked her back door a bit, rubbing her pleats as the girl’s eyes dropped shut once more, a moan escaping her lips.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, but it’s time to go. You ready?”
Of course she wa
sn’t. The female was nude except for a pair of stilettos, creaming and moaning in my lap as I massaged her anus. But that’s the thing about professionals. They know when the session’s over, and slowly, she levered herself up, body still flushed and trembling.
“I’m ready,” Susie breathed. “Just give me a sec.”
And within two minutes, the girl was wrapped up in her trench coat once more, those creamy curves covered. It was a shame. I’ve known a couple of working girls, and Susie was by far the best. She had tight holes, not to mention a particularly slutty way about her that made my balls ache. But again, business is business, so I patted her bottom while pressing a kiss to one flushed cheek.
“I’ll see you again, yeah?” was my low rumble. “Stay tuned, sweetheart. We’re not done yet.”
And with that, the girl was gone in a flash, my apartment restored to its normal state except for the cum stain on the couch and the sense of overwhelming satisfaction pouring through my body. Oh yeah, she’d helped me relax and I’ll pay good money for that kind of stuff. But the thing is that Susie is a dancer, so what kind of future lay before us? Probably nothing, to be honest. The American people would never accept a woman who took off her clothes for a living as my girlfriend, much less my wife. So I resolved to put the curvy woman out of my mind. Except that despite my best efforts, she’s still here with me … ruling my dreams each night with that sweet smile and low, throaty laugh.
Claiming His Virgin In the Pool Page 21
