4 comments/ 83791 views/ 4 favorites First Lady's First Lady By: Stardog Champion The sparkling Christmas decorations that adorned the thick columns of the White House's employee entrance sent tingles down the spine of Syria Ngabo as she nervously made her way into the most recognizable residence in the world. "You've come a long way... Damn," the 23 year old fitness trainer gasped to herself as she tapped her fingers against the plastic guest pass that was pinned to the outside of her red, white and blue jacket. "Thought the colors would be a nice touch," Syria said to herself, knowing in these times of heightened Patriotism, wearing red, white and blue on her first trip to the White House would be appreciated. Syria could see in everyone's faces, as she passed, that they were slightly taken aback by her appearance. She had thankfully become rather use to that reaction however. Even though her mocha brown features and thick African accent set her apart from the majority of people she came into contact with, the youngest Daughter of a Lebanese Mother and a Kenyan Father, Syria was in many ways a shining example of what was good about America. Slipping her five foot 10 inch 120 pound frame past several security checks to meet Laura Bush's personal assistant, Syria could literally feel the famished stares of the men that worked the checkpoints. Looking around at the white bread surroundings that the Bush's' had created inside tier home, Syria immediately knew the people working there weren't quite use to seeing someone as exotic as her. The fact that she was a Muslim in the post September 11th climate also made it feel a bit more awkward as she slowly worked her way through the seemingly endless maze of security checks. When the White House had inquired into finding a personal trainer for the First Lady at the upscale gym where Syria worked, the last person the gym's manager thought of suggesting was the 23 year old Kenyan and Lebanese grad student. With an early winter flu bug tearing through the nation's capital along with many of his female instructors returning home for the holidays however, Syria Ngabo suddenly became the most qualified and available option. After numerous background checks because of Syria's religious beliefs, the spinmasters at the White House finally decided that it would be a quaint idea, for publicity purposes, to have a person of the Muslim faith be actively involved in something as important as being the First Lady's exercise guru. * * * * * For the wife of the most powerful man in the world, the stress that followed in the weeks and months after the attacks of the World Trade Center and the Pentagon proved to be a difficult burden to bare. On every level of her human comprehension: Wife, Mother, Christian and American, Laura Bush faced a deluge of angst and uncertainty that nearly drove her to the edge on a daily basis. Adhering to the image she had created for herself, of a strong and stable rock for her Husband, was all Laura could do to meet the constant pressure and uneasiness she felt gnawing at her at each and every turn. One of the few successful outlets George W. had found to diminish the frustration that welled inside his body and soul was the regimented exercise program his doctor had put him on in the weeks following the attacks. After seeing the cathartic effects the exercise program had on her Husband for the hour or so everyday when he retreated to the privacy of the White House's gym and the way he was able to leave the world's problems for that little while, Laura Bush decided to do the same. After getting her staff to contact the same health club that supplied her Husband with a series of trainers, Laura was finally set up with one of her own. * * * * * Being led through the maze of White House corridors, Syria felt a dizzying sense of nervousness swirl through her lean and trim frame as she approached the sprawling and state of the art basement gymnasium, still numb from the realization that she was standing inside the world's power center, getting ready to help the Wife of the President of the United States with her setups and stomach crunches. Syria couldn't help but think of her parents and her modest upbringing as her tennis shoes silently echoed down those marbled hallways. The Daughter of a Kenyan businessman and Lebanese accountant, Syria by no means grew up poor, but in a country where wealth is defined as having more than one square meal a day, coming to America and seeing the vastness of luxury in comparison, made the 23 year old girl's heart skip a beat. By the time the First Lady's handlers had guided Syria downstairs to the basement workout area, the young girl had to wipe her hands off on her shorts several times, not wanting Laura Bush to feel just how nervous she was when they were introduced. With the Secret Service guards posted to each side of the entrance, Syria cast each a tedious smile as large doors swung open. As soon as Syria gazed forward, she instantly saw the First Lady standing no more than 10 feet in front of her. "Good.... Good... Good Morning.. Mrs. President... Mrs. Bush... I mean... ," Syria clumsily stammered. "Just call me Laura.... I'm pleased to meet you," the perky and polite older woman offered. After exchanging a cautious and restrained handshake, Laura and Syria filtered away from the Secret Service agents and assorted hangers on, making their way casually over to the far corner of the exercise room. Feeling vaguely out of place from the moment she stepped foot on White House property, Syria correctly sensed the older woman's awkwardness bubbling just underneath her outwardly polite and friendly exterior as they made small talk. "The security is a real hassle.. isn't it?" Laura smiled. "Yes.. yes it is," Syria replied. "But considering the state of affairs in the country right now.. its certainly understandable. " The two continued to make general conversation as Syria led the First Lady through a series of basic stretching exercises to warm up the older woman's tight muscles. "So... Mrs. Bu... Laura... do you have any goals with this... pounds lost.... toning parts of the your body?" Syria clinically asked. "Ah.. well.. any weight loss would be great.. but actually.. the main reason I'm trying this is just to help relieve some stress... my Husband keeps bugging me to join him but I really think I need to do this at my own pace," Laura sighed back. 30 minutes into the workout, a strange a calming sense of normalcy seeped into Syria's psyche as she led Laura Bush through a series of stretches designed to ease the tension in the woman's 55 year old muscles. "Just like any other job," Syria told herself as she dutifully marched one of the most powerful women in the world through her warm up routines. "Just like any other job. " * * * * * >From a political standpoint, Laura knew it wouldn't look right in the conservative White House to have a male personal trainer, so she was insistent that a female be provided for her services. Still, as a woman, one of Laura's biggest fears when she committed herself to the exercise program was that she would be forced to endure the workouts with a young and perky woman that would make the insecure First Lady feel completely inadequate before she even broke a sweat. Without wanting to make a big issue out of it, Laura never made known her deep seeded hope that the health club would send an older woman, possibly somebody close to her own age and physical level to work with her. Laura Bush's heart sunk with disappointment when she saw Syria walk through those doors the first day, looking stunning and as finely tuned as a B. B. King guitar string. As if measuring herself against a girl half her age wasn't enough, Laura also had to deal with the awkwardness of having all those male Secret Service agents watching from behind their dark sunglasses, knowing all the time they were internally licking their lips at the sight of Syria in her tight spandex outfits. By their third workout together, Laura had finally convinced the agents to stay outside the closed gymnasium door so she and Syria could have a level of privacy for their hourly sessions, thus alleviating the stress of those men's glaring gazes for the young girl and, even though Laura would have never admitted it, so she wouldn't have the added stress and embarrassment of being measured side by side with Syria. * * * * * After a month's worth of bi-weekly sessions, Laura couldn't help but be impressed by the progress she had made. She found herself sleeping much more peacefully at night, eating only when she was hungry instead of to calm her nerves and for the first time since she was a teenager, she could run her hand over her belly or down her arm and actually feel muscles living underneath the skin. Over the course of that month, through a lot of sweat and sore tendons, Laura and Syria had also built up a decent repertoire. Laura had found out that Syria's family had moved to New York City when she was 16 and that while attending Long Island University, Syria had stumbled into a swank health club that her Mother had done some tax work for and put in an application for a job. Over the course of her four years at the New York club, Syria had worked with the likes of Janet Jackson, several of the professional female athletes that lived in the area, not to mention helping out a girl named Britney Spears lose a ton of babyfat before anyone in the world knew who Britney Spears was. Laura also discovered that after Syria had got her undergraduate degree from LIU, she had decided to move to D. C. to get her Masters from George Washington. With her background in the exercise field, Syria had latched on to a part time job with the gym the White House dealt with. Syria, on the other hand, had discussed openly with Laura the definite clash of their religious and cultural backgrounds. Once there had been a trust level established, Laura freely admitted to the young Muslim girl that she was initially leery when they first met. Being a small town country girl who married at an early age, Laura simply hadn't been exposed to a wide variety of people while growing up. By the time she became immersed in a life of politics and government, it further shielded her from having to deal with people that were different than her. Until she became First Lady, Laura told a wide-eyed Syria, she had only left the country once in her whole life. Laura Bush's candor during their workouts together put Syria at a calming sense of peace as she steadily came to see the woman whom she had seen a thousand times on TV as just another person. Syria often compared her job to that of a bartender whenever one of her clients would go on and on about what was happening in their personal lives. To actually have the First Lady of the United States opening up however, was completely off the charts. * * * * * Knowing she would soon be facing the Christmas Dinner gauntlet that came with being married to the President, Laura decided to increase her exercise regiment to three times a a week in an attempt to offset all the food she knew she'd be forced to eat. Loving the increase in pay as well as the cachet that came with being able to brag to your friends about working with someone so famous, Syria was more than happy to oblige to the extra day of work with Laura. Kneeling on the mat, right beside Laura doing sit-ups, Syria filled with a definite sense of pride seeing, in a strange way, how far they both had come. "That's it Laura... 51.. 52... 53.. were gonna get to 100 without any problems today," Syria beamed positively. "Remember when we first started... it was a struggle to get to 50.. you're doing great... 61.. 62... 63...!" "Yeah," Laura grunted back, her sweaty body working back and forth as Syria carefully spotted her. As fatigue started to set it, Laura's upwards rocking motions became more and more disjointed and by the time she had reached sit-up #80, each time the exhausted First Lady would drop backwards to the floor, her shoulder would gently graze the front of Syria's chest. So consumed in her job, Syria didn't even notice that Laura was brushing up against the front of her tight spandex top until she casually looked down and saw that her right nipple had become slightly erect. "Ooopps," Syria thought to herself as she pulled back an inch or so to give her client enough room to finish her last few sit-ups. Standing up as she watched Laura roll over onto her stomach to do her 25 pushups, Syria felt her belly roll slightly as she snuck a peek back down and saw her nipple was still visible underneath her multicolored top. Fascinated and a little taken aback by the sight of her strange arousal, Syria looked tentatively over both shoulders just to make sure no one else was there to witness it. Realizing no one was standing there, it suddenly dawned on the 23 year old personal trainer that there hadn't been a security presence inside the gym for her past few visits. "Where are all the agents, Mrs. Bush?" Syria casually asked Laura as the older woman painfully trotted her way through the most difficult exercise in the routine. "Oh.... I.... figured we'd both be a lot more comfortable.... without them peering at us... behind those sunglasses.. they might be on the clock but they are still men... haha... they're just on the other side of the door.. trust me we're safe... I just needed... a little privacy when I decided to try this," Laura huffed between pushups. "Hey Laura.. you've got shorts on for the first time since we started doing this.. you can really see how the exercise is helping," Syria pleasantly noted as Laura bravely struggled through her final pushups. "Thank You," The First Lady groaned back unsteadily. "Thank you... very much. " "UURRGGHHH," Laura finally grunted when she was able to force her weight up for the 25th time before crumbling down to her belly so she could catch her breath and rest her tingling arms. After several moments to gain her bearings, Laura finally turned on her side and looked up at Syria standing proudly above her. "God.. she looks like a Goddess," the First Lady found herself thinking guiltily as the nearly six foot girl's shadow blocked out the gym's high ceiling lights above. "Time for your leg lifts," Syria said, without missing a beat. Leaning down over top of Laura's reddened body, Syria waited for Laura to turn over on her back before extending her hand down to the First Lady's feet to give her a guide when she raised her tennis shoes into the air. "Now bring your feet up into the air Laura.. right up to my hand and hold them there for 20 seconds.. you should really feel the burn in your calves and then after a few seconds in your stomach muscles," Syria ordered in a friendly tone. Holding her balance the best she could on her rock solid legs, Syria knelt directly beside Laura's tee-shirt clad torso to help the First Lady through her leg lifts. "OK.. Laura... you're doing wonderful.. keep those feet steady right against my hand... that's it.. now try doing a few stomach crunches if you can," Syria smiled. "O... K.. ," Laura hesitantly replied, her face straining wildly from the ordeal. Syria filled with pride and accomplishment as she watched Laura force her back off the floor time after time while simultaneously keeping her feet raised a few inches in the air. Syria couldn't help but crack a wide smile from ear to ear, causing her ivory white teeth to sparkle between her cherry red lips, as her most notable client clearly showed progress. "Come on Laura.. this is your best workout so far.. lets see if you can bleed out ten more crunches without bringing those feet down... 9.... 8.. 7.. you're getting it," Syria sighed, perched above the older woman's straining body in a Motherly and comforting pose. The soothing position the young fitness trainer had taken above her was not lost on Laura as she fought her screaming muscles to finish her workout. The fact that her breasts were bouncing around inside of her oversized tee-shirt like two rambunctious puppies was completely lost on the usually demure woman as she tried to grind herself through the last few crunches. "4... 3... 2," echoed in Laura's ear as she felt the swelling burn overtake her calves, thighs, stomach, chest and neck. "I think I'm gonnnnna... make... it," Laura winced, propelling her 55 year old body forward one last time before crashing back down to the floor. "PPHHEEWWWW," Laura shuddered in relief when she finally was able to drop her shoes down to the floor and rest for a second. Laying flat on the mat, Laura inhaled and exhaled as hard as she ever had in her life. An eerie but tangible sense of calm settled in the room, only to be interrupted every couple of seconds by the raspy sounds of air gushing in and out of the First Lady's sizzling lungs. "I think.. by far... this is the best workout you've had so far Mrs. President," Syria beamed, patting Laura lightly on the shoulder as she continued to hold her position kneeling beside her exhausted client. Rather than detaching from their stances the same way they had during each of their previous encounters, Syria remained at Laura's side for several seconds, simply staring down and admiring the older woman's hard work. The blood raging through Laura's body caused her weight to feel like a lump of burning coal beside Syria as the young girl's knees rested gently against Laura's heaving side. "Need a hand up?" Syria chirped as she slowly extended her hand down to Laura to help the tired woman to her feet. "Thank... you," Laura replied, straining to raise her right hand up to meet Syria's. A visceral electric charge went through each of their palms when Laura's sweaty hand disappeared inside of Syria's dark grip. "OHH," Laura whimpered involuntarily when she felt Syria's strength pulse through her flesh. It was as if each woman had become temporarily frozen in time as they held their positions. Laura, flat on her back with her right arm raised weakly in the air while Syria knelt beside her, looking strangely like a black knight, not in shining armor, but tight fitting spandex and Lycra as she held the older woman's pale, trembling hand. For nearly 30 seconds neither moved as the First Lady's creamy white grip interlocked with Syria's dark caramel skin. "You have soft hands," Laura found herself inexplicably saying, blushing immediately from her involuntary compliment as the young girl patiently towered over her. So stunned by the surreality of the situation, Syria just knelt there, paralyzed by Laura's tightening grip. Finding herself rolling her thumb against the back of the white woman's soft sweaty hand, Syria's muscles shifted beautifully inside her chiseled forearm. Instantly feeling the butterflies in her stomach turn to pigeons, a wave of paranoia washed through Syria, causing her to attempt to disengage from the unnatural embrace. Before she could lift her knees off the floor and pull away however, Laura's grip became an anchor, insistently holding the 23 year old Muslim grad student in place beside her. Syria tried gently jerking her hand away once more from Laura's sweaty clutch, only to lock eyes with the seemingly hypnotized woman. Slowly tumbling down the awkward abyss, each woman blankly measured the other until they returned their gazes towards their interlocked hands. Flexing her arm muscles once more, this time Syria carefully eased their joined hands down on top of Laura's quivering belly. "I've never felt anything like this in my life," Laura silently mouthed, just loud enough for Syria to hear. ".. Me... either," Syria's fiery eyes seemed to reply. After a deep breath, Syria pulled Laura's hand upwards and placed their interlocked, black and white fist directly against her rippled and jagged abdominal muscles. First Lady's First Lady Feeling the young girl use her hand as if she had taken possession of her body, Laura visibly swooned when she felt Syria place her hand against her caramel colored, washboard stomach. "Gaawwdd," was all Laura could manage to say as the young black girl gently rubbed their joined hands up and down the length of her dark and glistening belly. Gazing down in stunned disbelief at the exhausted woman cowering below, Syria felt every nerve ending in her body tingle when she openly watched the way Laura's fat nipples began to protrude through her sweat stained tee-shirt. Syria could almost sense Laura saying to herself," Why didn't I wear a bra?" when their eyes met, knowing full well the Wife of the President was conscious of her own visible arousal. Laura's hand buzzed and throbbed inside Syria's velvety grip as the emboldened young woman extended Laura's arm out in a 45 degree angle. Feeling her hand get turned palm side up, Laura felt as if she was beginning to melt under her trainer's tender manipulations. Staring at the morbidly fixated older woman for what seemed like hours, Syria waited patiently for the final go ahead. Gripping her fingers tightly around Laura's entire hand, Syria gently pressed her thumb down on Laura's wrist to silently gauge the older woman's pulse. Feeling her heart skip a beat from the force at which Laura's blood was rushing through her veins, Syria loosened her grip slightly so she could raise Laura's opened hand up to her spandex covered breasts. "OOHHHH," Syria wantonly gasped when she placed Laura's hand against her own youthful tits. Pulling Laura's arm gently forward, Syria proceeded to use the older woman's hand like a washcloth to caress her constrained bosom. From her perch directly above Laura's body, Syria could clearly see the look of unmitigated guilt sweep through the married woman's face as she forced Laura to fondle her breasts. Syria could also see the way Laura's chest heaved up and down causing her much larger and slightly sagging endowment to lavishly sway side to side against Syria's bent knee. A tangible sense of power and control glittered inside Syria's spinning head as she slowly worked Laura's hand up to her mouth before softly parting her lips to kiss each one of the First Lady's tingling white fingers. "You've... done this before?" Laura meekly asked, closing her eyes immediately from embarrassment as her words filtered up to the young grad student. ".. Yes.. ," Syria honestly answered. "With a couple of the girls I went to school with... never anything like.. like this though. " "Me.. either.. ," this time Laura's dazed expression seemed to reply. "Are.... we.. alone.. you know all the guys outside.. will they come in?" Syria hesitantly asked. "Only if I yell... yell for them... we're.... safe," Laura replied, her eyes shiny and sparkling from the amount of tears that were bubbling to the surface. Biting her lip as she mustered the strength to make the next move, Syria lifted her powerful right leg high into the air and straddled Laura's prone body until the First Lady's midriff was snugly trapped directly underneath the V of the Muslim's girl's crotch. Shivering all over as she looked up at the imposing but angelic outline of Syria mounted on top of her body, Laura fixated on the lights from the ceiling shining down magically through the black girl's long dark hair. Feeling as if she were trapped in a bear hug between Syria's vice like thighs, Laura rolled her head side to side in total disbelief that she had allowed the 23 year old girl to take complete control of her. Laura's entire body tensed like a deer on a rumbling train track when she saw Syria's head drift lower in the light and descend slowly down. "Ohhh.. Nooo," Laura breathlessly mumbled, instinctively nudging her heaving breasts into the air as Syria's chest collapsed down on top of her. Feeling the young Muslim girl's soft hair tickle her shoulders and neck, Laura let out a gutteral, mewing moan when she felt Syria's lips graze against her cheek. "MMM... YEEZZ," The older woman helplessly spat out as she grinded her body roughly against the lean and muscled trainer's crushing weight. Holding her breath for what seemed like an eternity, when Laura finally parted her lips to gasp for air, the slit she created was immediately filled by Syria's serpent-like tongue. "UUMMMBBBUURRAAHH," Laura's muffled voice wailed, experiencing the feel of another woman's sexual intent for the first time in her life. Wincing from the combination of Syria sucking the air from her lungs at the same time Syria's luxuriously long fingernails dug into the flesh of her upper arm, Laura felt her body start to rapidly vibrate on the floor until she was forced to grind her moistening pussy awkwardly against Syria's crotch above. Fervently returning the vivacious young girl's kiss, Laura squirmed her shoulders side to side as the two women luridly swapped spit. Their chests snugly pressed against one another, Laura and Syria could feel their titties mash together as they soaked in the taste of each other's rapid breath. Blindly sensing the President's Wife rutting beneath her, Syria flexed her feet down the length of Laura's legs and dug her tennis shoes into the side of the older woman's calves. "MMMMM," Laura moaned in a churning, jungle like voice, sounding as if something deeply embedded inside of her was begging to get out as the young girl continued to forcefully impose her will. Feeling Syria's long probing fingers scratch roughly over her entire upper torso, Laura blindly flailed her arms upwards until she was able to rub her fingertips across Syria's solidly sculpted, round hips. Like a sleek black and sexually possessed beast, Syria luridly raised up and sucked in two lungfuls of fresh oxygen as she peered down at the helpless frame of Laura Bush trapped between her legs. "You ought to see your face," Syria said to herself as she absorbed the sight of the First Lady's lipstick smeared across her chin and cheeks from Syria's brutal kiss. Lovingly wiping off Laura's lipstick residue from her own lips, Syria re-positioned herself on her knees, tilted her head sideways once again and dropped her weight back down on top of Laura's chest. Extending her arms out, Syria clamped her large black hands directly down on top of Laura's shoulders, effectively pinning the older woman to the floor as she devilishly raked her tongue over Laura's lips, chin, neck and chest. Working her mouth ever lower, Syria wantonly scooted her weight down the length of Laura's torso until she was able to slip her hands around the bottom of the First Lady's tee-shirt. Looking up one last time to gauge Laura's stunned expression, Syria pulled up the sweaty cotton fabric to reveal a pair of massive breasts. Swirling her face teasingly above Laura's womanly swells, Syria hovered there as Laura's body started to involuntarily beg for the young girl's touch. "Touch them... please... please.. touch them," Laura pleaded with the still dressed trainer. Desperate to oblige, Syria darted her long twisting tongue out of her mouth once again, this time swirling it like a obscene paintbrush over every inch of Laura's milky white bosom. "They are so big... Laura.. so round.. so beautiful," Syria sighed admiringly before opening her mouth wide and sucking in as much of the older woman's titflesh as she could, in the process leaving a series of dark hickeys that Laura, later, would never be able to explain. Pressing her pretty black face between the glowing white alleyway of the First Lady's cleavage, Syria used her tender but insistent fingers to shove Laura's tits together until her head was sandwiched between the quivering white orbs. "MMMM," Syria groaned as she flicked at Laura's juicy nipples with her long, manicured fingernails. "Yes.. yes... yeahhhh... yezzzz," Laura cackled weakly, shivering on the floor as the young girl freely manipulated her womanhood. Feeling her pussy start to boil and drip between her legs, an overwhelming desire to taste Laura's arousal seeped into Syria's drooling mouth. Working her lips down the alabaster trail of Laura's belly, Syria's tongue came to rest directly above the elastic band of the First Lady's black Lycra shorts. Pulling her right hand away from Laura's sagging tits, Syria dug her fingers into the stretchy material and started to yank the matronly woman's shorts all the way down. "Lift up your behind," Syria barked softly in her thick Kenyan accent. "UHHUHH," Laura moaned in return as she hypnotically followed Syria's orders. Within moments, Laura was laying flat on the floor, her vagina completely revealed to the 23 year old foreign student as the young girl rapidly rolled her head between Laura's creamy white legs. "Such a soft... sweet.. and beautiful pussy," Syria smiled, rubbing her long angular fingers through Laura's dark brown and slightly graying fleece. Her mouth watering, Syria teased Laura's exposed sex with her hand for several agonizing moments until the glistening pink outline of the older woman's vaginal lips flared open like a neon sign. Feeling her hunger boil over, Syria opened her mouth and dove face first into Laura Bush's smoldering slit. "AAHH... MMMMMMHHHUUMMMM," Syria groaned happily, dipping her tongue repeatedly in and out of Laura's pussy as her soft and flowing hair cascaded down on top of both of the First Lady's naked and shaky thighs. "JESUSSSS... MMMMYYYEEAAAHHHH," Laura yelped in return, never in her life feeling a sensation like the one the young Muslim girl was providing her with. For nearly five minutes, Syria Ngabo twisted her face in and out of Laura's crotch until she literally had the older woman shuddering with every subtle movement she made. With the familiar taste of another woman's pre-orgasmic nectar washing down Syria's throat, the deliriously aroused personal trainer filled with radiant expectation as she waited to ingest the First Lady's cum. Wrapping her powerful hands tightly around Laura's jerking midriff, Syria snuck a quick gaze up at the older woman's contorting face and inherently knew, just for a few fleeting moments, she had made the First Lady of the United States her own personal slut. "Come on Laura... fuck my face back with that pussy.. yesss.. come on.. shove your crotch hard into my mouth," Syria hoarsely whispered as the spittle of the women's combined secretions bubbled from the her hissing mouth. Sensing Laura was on the verge of orgasmic collapse and filled with a deep seeded need to milk this one time chance for all it was worth, Syria leaped up to her knees with catlike efficiency before ripping her own shorts down to her feet. Keeping her hand tightly wedged inside Mrs. Bush's sex, Syria did a complete 180 above the older woman's body until she had positioned her naked and smoothly shaved cunt directly above the cowering brunette's gyrating head. As if she were taking a seat on a motorcycle, Syria bent down until her fuming genitals pressed flush against Laura Bush's gasping mouth. Wincing visibly when Laura's mouth made contact, Syria lowered her head again until her own mouth was firmly entrenched back inside her client's foaming womb. Pressing her lean, chiseled thighs together as she resumed eating Laura out, Syria could feel the older woman's cheeks quiver warmly as Laura's tongue tentatively dipped inside the personal trainer's sparkling slit. "GGAAWWDDD... YYEESSS," Syria moaned, feeling as if a series of pounding thunderclaps were exploding inside her head as the First Lady began to chew at her pussy. Bucking her crotch up and down on the white woman's face, Syria buried her mouth as far as she could between Laura's legs until she was drenched all the way down to her neck with the First Lady's oily vaginal dew. Using her tongue like a rotary blade inside the deepest regions of Laura's quim, Syria started to hum noisily, knowing the vibrations of her oral assault would soon drive the married woman over the edge. Keeping her pussy tightly draped across Laura's nervously grinding mouth, Syria took immense pride knowing hers was the first that the 55 year old woman had tasted. When she sensed Laura Bush's cunt was about to explode, Syria wrapped her large, mocha colored hands around the inside of each of the white woman's chubby thighs and plastered her lips as securely as she could across Laura's pubic crease, in effect, creating a vacuum that would force every ounce of the older woman's sweet and pungent secretion into Syria's sucking mouth. "Gah.. GAH... GAAHHH.... GAHHHWWDDDDDDDDDAAAAMMMNNNNNNNNN, "Laura gurgled out, biting down hard on Syria's inner thigh to keep from screaming so loudly that the Secret Service agents would come running in from the hallway outside. "SHIT... SHIT..... SHHHIIIITTTT," Syria heard Laura stutter, extracting extreme pleasure in making a woman who normally never cursed, shriek a blue steak as she continued slurping every trace of jism from Laura's spewing vagina. Looking down the length of Laura's spasming legs at the way her feet jittered up and down on the floor, Syria felt as if she were perched on top of an erupting volcano as Laura's heavy bosom shivered wildly underneath her bare stomach. As the First Lady's orgasm ragged on and on, Syria felt her own genitals start to tumble and twist with excruciating joy as she grinded her pelvis up and down on top of Laura's contorting face. Using the strength and torque in her statuesque body, Syria pressed her knees into the mat below and arched her weight backwards until she had propelled herself up into a seated position on top of Laura's face. Keeping her sweltering crotch squarely angled on top of the First Lady's drowling mouth, Syria rapidly pulled up her tight spandex top and started to palm and squeeze her firm titties as her slippery vaginal fluid oozed down each side of Laura's reddened cheeks. "Fuck.. Fuck.. FUCK.. FUCK..... I'm.... I'm... aahhhh... I'MMM... MMMMMMMAAAHHH... AAAHHHHHEEEEE HHHHHHHHRRGGH HHAAAHHHH..... I"MCCUUMMMIINNNGGGGGGGGGG," Syria barked out in her husky African accent. Bucking her head back and forth as if it were suspended on a swivel, Syria pumped her syrupy pussy up and down on Laura's jabbing tongue until her legs literally went numb from the lack of blood flow. Collapsing straight back on her bare ass, right behind Laura's twitching head, Syria desperately tried sucking in a fresh dose of oxygen as she wiped the disjointed strands of hair out of her mascara smeared eyes. Looking down between her parted legs, Syria tried focusing her vision on the tattered remnants of the First lady below. Seeing vividly the way Laura's rose colored vaginal lips protruded obscenely from the dense, curly brown patch of pubic hair between her legs, Syria carefully snuck her index and middle fingers back down to own cunt to rub it gently as she surveyed he way Laura lavished in the glow of her crushing orgasm. Feeling another tingling jolt of arousal sparkle through her spine when Laura raised her hands up to play with her own still shamelessly erect nipples, Syria couldn't help but crack a wickedly satisfied smile when the First Lady sighed breathlessly, "Now that was a Hell of a workout!" The End Thanks For Reading