16 comments/ 43367 views/ 5 favorites Sarah Palin, Sex & Valentine's Day By: SuperHeroRalph This is a Valentine's Day contest story. Please vote. Sarah Palin, Sex & Valentine's Day The Alaskan ex-governor and a writer make a love connection on Valentine's Day. For the record, I'm not a serial killer in the way that Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber, was or a survivalist living in the forest by Walden Pond in the way of Henry David Thoreau. I'm not even a hunter or adventurer. Having no pretenses of hoping to be another Jack London and writing another Call of the Wild or White Fang, I'm just a writer, a mere scribe, who moved to the end of civilization to be alone with my thoughts. Never in a million years did I think I'd be spending all my holidays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve, and now today, Valentine's Day, alone I moved to Alaska to write the great American novel about the last wilderness on Earth, the Alaskan rainforest. Only, before the winter set in, I needed a job to earn money to survive, while writing. Having saved some money to get by, until I found work, I needed a job that would earn me enough money to pay my rent and buy the food and supplies that I needed to lock myself away in a cabin for six months through the cold, harsh winter, while writing my manuscript. From taking a job as a lumberjack, a fisherman, a miner, and a store clerk, I made and saved enough money to begin my writing adventure. Taking the advice from the famous writer, Jonathan Franzen, by locking myself away in the way that he does to write his masterpieces, I figured the more hardship I had to endure the better my book. Other than Afghanistan, Pakistan, or Haiti, where else on Earth could I endure such a hardship, than in the Alaskan wilderness during the long, cold winter? True, I could have pulled a Forrester, as in Finding Forrester, and stayed in some New York ghetto, but I needed peace and quiet to write the book that I needed to write. I can't write with car alarms, police, fire, and ambulance sirens, and gunfire. To be honest, I felt safer out here in the dense forest with the occasional bear and wolf than I did in New York with all the two legged predators. Only, I didn't realize, the cabin that I took was more akin to Ted Kaczynski's or Henry David Thoreau's cabin than it was to Jonathan Franzen's sanctuary. For sure, I could have done better with a few more comfort items, basic necessities, actually. Yet, if my intent was to rough it and to cause myself misery and pain, by surviving life in the rainforest during the winter, that I needed to experience to write my masterpiece, then I couldn't have chosen a better cabin. Even though the price was right, with no running water and electricity, I should have known there was something wrong with this cabin. Cabin? It's more an oversized outhouse than it was a living quarters. A one room, four sided, hunters' blind, at least it had a door and windows that made it feel not as claustrophobic as solitary confinement in a prison cell. Twenty feet by twenty feet, the living space was a four hundred foot square. A typical apartment sized space in Japan and in some New York buildings, my cabin was the size of most living rooms or master bedrooms in many American homes. Still, it was bigger than the prison cell that it sometimes felt it was, especially when there was a raging storm outside and I was snowbound for days with snowdrifts taller than my cabin. Well constructed to survive the Alaskan winters, constructed in the way of a very, small log cabin, I was glad that it had a fireplace. This would have been a palace compared to how Alaskan settlers lived not that long ago. Unfortunately, it was the only accommodations that I could afford on my meager budget. No phone and no Internet, what was I thinking? Yet, one day, I'll look back and laugh, that is, if I survive my ordeal. If nothing else, the quiet alone time helped me to think and gave me insight into things that I normally wouldn't have considered, had I still had to endure the interruptions I had, when living in the city and working a full-time, nine to five job. Just having to endure my daily commute in gridlock, bumper-to-bumper traffic put me in such a foul mood that, when I finally arrived home, I couldn't do anything but flop in front of the television, while eating my TV dinner. Forget about exercising and eating right. I was too tired and stressed from the aggravation of my day. Unable to keep a thought in my head, even though I wanted to write, I couldn't. I was never in the mood. Then, with all the errands that I needed to do in the little free time that I had to do them, even weekends were full of stress and aggravation, instead of fun. Franzen doesn't use the Internet when he writes, so I won't either. Although Franzen has a toilet, a sink, a shower, a refrigerator, a stove, a telephone, and a television, no doubt. If I miss anything, I miss my television and my computer. I miss unconsciously turning on an overhead light, instead of having to light my lantern or read by the fire. Sometimes feeling a bit like Abraham Lincoln, I can do without anything else but I wish I had more light. Yet, when it comes right down to basic needs, so long as I have my oversized and relatively comfortable 800 goose down sleeping bag, plenty of firewood for the fire, gallons and gallons of water, and my shelves stocked with canned food, I was fine. Most people living in America are spoiled and unless poor and homeless, without food enough to sustain them, most people living in this country don't know what real hardship is. When I think about so many people living in third world countries, when I think about our own citizens homeless and living on the street, when I think about all those who suffer hardships in prison, especially for crimes they didn't do, they all wish they had it this good. Seriously, compared to third world countries, being homeless, or being in prison, how bad can living a winter in Alaska be? Okay, it was pretty bad, especially being so alone and especially with that bone chilling, howling wind. My attempt at making myself feel better by comparing my plight to others worse off than me wasn't working. More than once, I wanted to give it all up and go home, but I didn't. I hung in there. Determined to write my book, I needed to prove to myself that I could do what I thought I needed to do to write my bestseller. I bought the supplies to make my own portable shower, a portable generator to give me electricity, a hotplate to heat water and cook food, a coffeemaker, and a space heater to heat the room. I even bought a portable toilet from one of the locals. Only, I can't use them all at the same time. So long as my water supply doesn't freeze overnight, which happened more than once, comfy and cozy, I was all set. Just as I started to settle in my new writer's lodge, just as I was beginning to appreciate the solitude of my Alaskan rainforest hideaway, and just as I got out my typewriter and my ream of paper and stared at my blank page wondering what the Hell to write now that the pressure was on high to write something, anything, I heard something. "Hello?" It sounded like a voice, a woman's voice, but in the distance. Was I hearing things? Was that the wind or a wolf howling? Totally alone, there's no one out here where I am. Alone in the wilderness for months, maybe I'm just hallucinating. Gees, now that I have a woman on my mind, I'm feeling horny, when I should be feeling inspired to write. Maybe that's the voice of my muse, my main character. Sure, with today being Valentine's Day, I'll write a love story about a man and a woman lost in the Alaskan rainforest, a story about love, romance, and adventure. Finally, I can write the hot sex scene that I always wanted to write. Perfect. How different it would be to write a Valentine's Day story here, than if I was still in New York? There'd be no way that I could write an Alaskan rainforest Valentine's Day love story living in New York and never having experienced a harsh Alaskan winter. My words would never ring true and my characters, lacking dimension, would be as flat as my page without details. Just as I celebrated all my Valentine's Days in the past, I'd be stuck buying some woman that I really didn't care for flowers and candy just for the hopes of having sex with... "Hello? Is anyone there?" There it is again. Definitely, that was a woman's voice and a real voice, not the wind, a wolf, or the voice of my muse. Hoping I wasn't hearing things, hoping I wasn't beginning to lose my mind from being alone for so long, I got up from my chair, and looked out the window, before opening the door. This is bear country, after all, not that my door would be a match for an 800 pound bear or a two legged predator intent on doing me bodily harm and stealing my supplies, it wouldn't, a habit learned living in New York, I'm always cautious when unlocking and opening my door. Instead I looked out my window. Total whiteout, unable to see anything but snow and trees, I was about to sit back down to write again when... "Hello? Can someone help me?" There it is again. There's someone out there, a woman and she needs help. I grabbed my jacket, opened and unlocked the door, and walked out on the front porch. I looked straight ahead. I looked to the left. I looked to the right. Back and forth, from left to right, I quickly scanned the area with my eyes. Nothing and no one. Thinking that it was the wind or an animal or just me imagining things, about to go back inside, I heard the voice again. "Hey! Mister! Hey! Hey, you!" Rough and tumble, the voice was annoyingly familiar. With a bit of hysteria in her voice, it was one notch down from a shrill. Yeah, for sure, a little of that voice goes a long way. Here I am trying to get away from it all and now there's a hysterical women in the middle of nowhere asking for my help. She sounded a bit like Calamity Jane's character on Deadwood, a bit crazy. She had the kind of grating voice that made me glad she wasn't my wife. Then, I saw her. There in the distance, behind some snow covered bushes, was a woman. "Hello? What are you doing way out here?" When she didn't answer my question, being the writer that I am, I started firing away more questions. "How'd you get here? Are you lost? Who are you? What's your name?" I couldn't believe I was having a dialogue with a woman in Alaska, when I had a difficult time finding a woman in New York to talk to me. "You must be from the city," she yelled back finally, "because you sure ask a lot of questions." For sure, she was one sassy broad with an attitude that was both endearing and annoying at the same time. "Actually, I am from the city, New York City." "I figured as much. Are you a reporter?" "A reporter? No, although I haven't written anything yet, I'm a writer. I'm writing my Great American--" "Yada yada yada, can it, buster. Can you give me blanket? I'm freezing." I'll tell you one thing, for a woman out here alone, she has balls. "A blanket?" "Yeah, the rectangular piece of material that you put on a bed. Please, if you don't mind. I'm naked and I'm so very cold." A naked woman walking in the middle of nowhere all this way? How did she get here without clothes? I stared to see if she was naked and when I saw the top of her shoulders, I saw that she was naked. She must be freezing. "Naked? Stay there. I'll bring it out to you." Suddenly, the thought of a naked woman made me forget that I was here to write. Wouldn't it be something if I met the love of my life in Alaska on Valentine's Day. Is this fate? Is this kismet? Is this woman my destiny of desire, love, romance, and passion? Happy fucking Valentine's Day to me. Oh boy, oh boy, a naked woman and, from I saw of her from a distance, she's not too bad looking. "No, I mean, yeah, bring the blanket out to me, but don't get too close. Just toss it over. The last thing I need is some pervert ogling my naked body," she said continuing to mutter to herself. "I don't want you to see me in my all together, that's for sure, in the way that Senator McCain did, when I was changing my clothes in his campaign trailer and he said he wasn't looking. He's such a maverick that guy, pervert is more like it." "Pardon? What was all that? I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the wind," I said walking closer and trying to see more of her through the snowy bush that concealed her. "Never mind," she said looking more resigned and focused to cover her nakedness with her forearm and her hand than in talking to me anymore. "Okay," I said walking out with the blanket. "That's close enough, buddy," she said. "Now toss it over, please." "Here you go," I said tossing her the blanket and watching it fall and drape itself over the bushes in front of her. Keen to see something I shouldn't, being the voyeur that I am, I saw one of her breasts, when she reached for the blanket and I couldn't help but wonder if it was an implant. Her breast looked too perfect to be real. Maybe she's a hooker or a stripper working in one of the mining towns. Maybe she escaped from some man intent on harming her and raping her. With her being naked, maybe she was raped already. Just my luck to get a naked woman, after she's been sexually assaulted. She'd never have sex with me now. Nearly one hundred and fifty years, after buying Alaska from Russia, with more men than women living here and the Russian bride trade and prostitution rings alive and well, as if it was still the wild west, Alaska was still a dangerous place for women. Maybe she was a Russian bride that escaped her husband or a Russian prostitute that escaped her captors. She wrapped the blanket around herself and stepped out of the bush. At least she was wearing boots. "Thank you," she said walking towards me. "I'm so cold. I've never been as cold in my life." "You're welcome," I said staring at her, as if I knew her. She looked familiar, but I couldn't place her face. It would be funny if she was some woman that I picked up in a bar in New York and had sex with so long ago. What are the chances of bumping into someone else from New York in Alaska's rugged terrain? Still, whoever she was, since I don't have a thought in my head, yet, to begin writing my manuscript, I wouldn't mind the company. "Do you have a fire in that cabin?" "No, but I can make one, if you'd like." "I sure would. And a cup of coffee, too, if you have one. I'm freezing. I've lived here nearly all my life, but for the first three months of it, and I don't think I've ever been as cold." Great! Lucky me, she's a native, someone I can ask questions and pick her brain. "Sure, come inside and I'll warm you," I said. When we were walking towards the cabin, she stumbled and nearly fell more than once. "Careful," I said taking her under the arm and being rewarded with the feel of the side of her breast. Just the touch of her made my cock twinge. It had been several months, before I left New York, that I had been intimate with a woman. Being this close to her, she reeked of alcohol and with her stumbling, being a bit disoriented, it was obvious to me that she had been drinking and was still a little drunk. "I can't see a damn thing without my glasses." Suddenly so very horny, once inside the cabin, I had wicked thoughts and lustful desires of wrestling the blanket away from her naked body, so that I could really warm her in the way that only a man who has been alone for several months can warm a naked woman walking through the forest. "It's nearly as cold in here, as it is outside," she said shivering. "A few degrees warmer than a tent," I said with a laugh. My cabin's not insulated, but it's shelter enough from the wind and the snow and for the fire to take off the chill. It's not too bad when wearing a lot of layers, which I always do. The night time is when I freeze myself--" "You sure do talk a lot, mister," she said. "Are you sure you're not a reporter?" "Sorry, I've been alone and haven't had anyone to talk to for a while. My name is Tom, Tom Conroy," I said. "Sarah," she said looking at me with a curious look. "Sarah what?" "Just Sarah," she said looking away from my stare. Just Sarah? With no hint of a Russian accent, I don't think she's an escaped Russian bride. Definitely she's a stripper, a hooker, or an exotic dancer. It made sense. With her phony breasts and having just one name, I imagined her being introduced as Sexy Sarah, before she started dancing around a pole and stripping off her clothes. Maybe my luck has changed for the better. What better woman to have in my cabin than a naked stripper? Maybe because it was Valentine's Day, maybe because I was so horny, but the thought that she was naked beneath that blanket suddenly filled my brain with love, romance, and sex, lots and lots of wild sex. Not having had sex in a while, a man has needs. Suddenly, I was feeling as if I was a real outdoorsman, an adventurer, a trapper, a hunter, or a survivalist living back a hundred years ago. I could have my wicked way with this woman and who would know? No, I can't do that. It's wrong. Maybe she'll be agreeable to some sexy fun later, once I warm her, feed her, and give her something to wear. She wasn't so very unattractive. For sure, she'd look better with her hair fixed and some makeup. Actually, she was kind of pretty, in a funny way, especially for an older women. I figured she had at least ten years on me. She reminded me a little of Tina Fey. "So, how did you get out here? Why are you naked? Were you running away from someone? Is there someone after you? Where do you live? What do you do? What's your last name?" I paused, after asking each question, before asking another, when she didn't respond. As if it was a game, with every question that I asked that she didn't answer, I felt compelled to ask another question, until she answered one. "You sure do ask a lot of questions? Are you sure you're not a reporter?" "No, I'm not a reporter." Why did she constantly ask me if I was a reporter? What's that about? I didn't get the connection. Was she someone famous? Nah, look at her. She looks like a regular person. She's just a woman, albeit a naked woman in the Alaskan wilderness. Maybe she's married to someone famous. Maybe he tried to kill her by dumping her out here naked hoping the bears would eat her or someone like me would find her, rape her, kill her, and bury her body in the woods somewhere never to be found. There goes my writer's imagination. I need to write some of this stuff down, so that I don't forget any of it. Once inside the cabin, she sat in a chair shivering, while I started a fire. With her blanket pulled over her head and wrapped tightly about her, as if she was a Mummy, I still couldn't get a good look at her. With the sun starting to go down, there was no light in the cabin. Normally, I'd save the generator for later, but I needed to start it to make coffee. It's not a very good generator, it's old but it was all that I could afford. I give the generator a rest, whenever I can, after running it most of day. I lit my lantern and put it on the table beside her. "Can I ask you a favor?" "Sure," I said looking at her shivering and wanting to take her in my arms, while holding her, touching her, and feeling her. "Normally, I wouldn't ask a strange man this question but you look normal, somewhat, although why anyone would want to live way out here in this cabin is beyond me. Now don't get any ideas, but would you mind holding me and rubbing me, until I can get the circulation back in my body? I'm just so very cold." Be still my heart. I couldn't believe she read my mind and asked me to do what I was wanting to do. "Sure," it would be my pleasure to rub my cock against your blanket clad, naked body while holding you and rubbing you. I thought that, but I didn't say that. Sarah Palin, Sex & Valentine's Day She stood when I walked towards her and collapsed in my arms. As soon as I held her, I could smell the alcohol on her breath. I held her, before slowly moving my hands from her shoulders to her back to her... "Rub me," she said, "not feel me." "Sorry," I said rubbing her, as if I was a vibrating machine. Excited about rubbing the good parts, I rubbed her shoulders, her arms, her back, her hips, her ass, her legs, from her outside thighs and inner thighs, all the way down to her ankles and back up again. Just when I reached in to rub her poor, cold tits, she clutched her blanket tighter to her chest. "That's enough," she said. "My breasts don't need any rubbing. Thank you, I feel a bit warmer now." I took a step or two back and, obviously still a bit tipsy, she collapsed in the chair. She had more color in her face now. "I'm glad you feel warmer. You have a bit more color. You're lucky. You could have died." "I know. Thank you for helping me," she said looking around the cabin. "Do you have anything to eat? I'm starved. I could eat a bear." "I have some stew that I can heat up, once I get the fire going. The coffee will be ready in a few minutes. I could use a cup, too. I don't have cream, but I have the Creamora." "That's okay. I'll drink it black. Normally, I'd welcome the stew, but after drinking all that I drank last night, maybe something lighter to settle my stomach, some bread maybe. "Sure," I said, giving her some hard bread from my ice chest. "It will taste better as it warms," I said. "I've eaten hard bread before. This is not much of a cabin," she said looking around, while chewing. "Where do you sleep?" "There in the corner," I said. "I put my sleeping bag on the air mattress." She looked at me, as if she was going to ask me a question. "I'm sorry, but I only have the one sleeping bag, but it's a double, we could--" "Don't be getting any ideas about me, Mister." "Tom," I said. "My name is Tom." "Yeah, well, just 'cause I'm sitting here naked beneath this wool blanket, Tom, which I'm allergic to, by the way. I think I'm getting a rash," she said opening it enough, just for her to look inside, but with me standing over her, I got another look of her tits. When she caught me looking down her blanket, she clutched it around her neck again. "I'll get you some clothes," I said looking away, when she looked up at me. I gathered up a pair of my pants, a shirt, some socks and a pair of my long underwear and handed it to her. "Thank you," she said. "Do you know what today is?" "Monday, I think," she said. "I lost track of time being out in the cold like that. I thought I was surely going to die." "Today is Valentine's Day." "You're right. Yeah, of course, I know it is. I forgot all about that, after the night that I had last night." "Today is the day of love, romance, and sex." "Well, you may be right about love and romance, but my sex life has been in the crapper for a long time. And don't you be getting any ideas about having sex with me, buster. I can't remember the last time I had welcomed sex." Welcomed sex versus unwelcomed sex? What does she mean by that? Definitely she's a prostitute or a rape victim. "Welcomed sex? What do you mean?" "My husband, Todd, is always forcing himself on me. I had a fight with him last night. Just as I'm gone for days and weeks at a time with my job, he's gone for months at a time with his job. Then, when we see one another, expecting me to give him sex, which amounts to him feeling my body, sucking on my tits, and playing with my pussy for two minutes, before I blow him, he gave me candy and flowers last night. He's going away again this morning. Tired of spending another Valentine's Day alone, I ran out of the house." "Without your clothes?" "Yeah, well, I didn't give it much thought. I was drunk and the truck was there. I figured I'd be warm enough with the heater. The reality TV show we've been doing is taking up all my time and invading my privacy, I just wanted to get away, before they showed up this morning with their camera crew. I drove and drove, figuring after I cooled down and heated up with the heater, I'd return. I was so angry and didn't really think. I even left my glasses in the truck. Then, the truck died and here I am." Reality TV? What the Hell is she talking about? Who runs away naked? "Sorry about the clothes. They're going to be big on you, but that's all I have." "Do you have a place for me to change?" Starting to feel like the pervert I am, it excited me that she needed privacy to change, when there was none. "Pretty much everything is what you see. I only have the--" "Turn around then and no peeking," she said. I turned around but, when I heard the blanket hit the floor, I couldn't help but look. When she bent to pick up the clothes, I saw her pussy from behind and the side of her hanging breast. Oh, my God, I just wanted to fuck her doggie style right there, while feeling her big melons. The thought that there was a naked woman in my cabin overwhelmed my senses. With her facing the other way and bending like that, I stared at her naked ass. It took all the control that I possessed not to reach out and feel her ass and finger her pussy from behind. She didn't have a bad ass for a mature woman. With her being thin enough and her breasts being big enough, I could clearly see the sides of her tits peeking out from her back, when she stood. Never feeling like this before, I don't know what happened to me, but I was dizzy with desire. After being alone and not having had sex in a long while, the sight of her naked ass and with her breasts peeking out the side of her and teasing me, was just too much for me to take. Oh, my God, there in the glow of the fire and with this being Valentine's Day, the day of love, romance, and sex, was she sent here for me and for this night of passion and desire? Is she my fated muse sent here to me to give me the inspiration that I need to write my Alaskan rainforest romance novel? Filled with a lustful desire that I have never known, feeling like a sailor on shore leave, after being out at sea for too long, with the thought of any port in a storm, she made me so horny and I just wanted her. I had to have her. Crazed with lust, I stepped forward, reached out, wrapped my arm around her waist. By her scream, I caught her by surprise. Then, I spun her around and kissed her, while touching her and feeling her everywhere. Parting her lips, I forced my tongue in her mouth, while feeling her tits and fingering her nipples. Then, refusing to let her go, even though she struggled, as if she was a hooked salmon, I reached down behind her and grabbed her naked ass, first one cheek and then the other. The feel of her naked body made me wild with passion. Having crossed the line, there was no turning back now. Crazed with sexual passion, as if I was a teenager at a drive-in movie, I was all over her naked body touching her, feeling her, caressing her, and groping her. Still kissing her, I reached down in front of her and cupped her pussy, while trying to finger her. Once I inserted a long, stiff finger in her, once I started massaging her clit, while trying to finger fuck her, she pushed me away. "Easy there, cowboy," she said giving me a stiff arm, as if she was a running back on a pass rush. "I want you, Sarah," I said not letting her go and grabbing her and kissing her again. As if she was a wild bronco that I needed to bust before riding, I forced my tongue in her mouth again. She kicked me, punched me, pinched me, and scratched me, before pulling away and screaming. Yet, I wasn't to be denied from having sex with sexy Sarah the stripper, or the dancer, or the hooker. Whoever the Hell she was? Today was Valentine's Day and she was mine. "No! Let go of me, you pervert," she said. "You're quite the little maverick, aren't you, huh?" Maverick? What the Hell does that mean? When she said Maverick, all I could think of was Mel Gibson playing Maverick in the movie, after James Garner played Maverick for years on TV. "Maverick? What the Hell does that even mean?" "That's what you are, a maverick. You're quite the Maverick taking advantage of a woman like that and touching me, where only my husband is allowed to touch me. You're no better of a man than when Senator McCain boned me up the ass, while Vice President Cheney forced me to blow him. Those two were insatiable for me. They called me in for a meeting, but the meeting turned into an orgy. There was no way they were allowing me to leave that room without them having their dirty way with me." "What? What are you talking about?" She pulled away from me and when she did, I saw the full naked front of her for the first time. More focused on her nakedness, than her face and on what she had said, I figured she was still a little drunk and just talking nonsense. Her breasts were bigger than I thought. Definitely, they looked too perfect to be real. Her pussy was neatly trimmed and I so wanted to bury my tongue in her, before burying my cock deep inside her. I couldn't wait to fuck her. Only, she ruined my moment by opening her mouth and talking again. "What am I talking about? You know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about money, power, and influence, the three things that lubricates the world. Losing my support base as Governor and fearing that I'd be a one term governor and broke, after defending myself in so many civil lawsuits, I would have done anything to be the Republican Party's candidate on their ticket as Vice President, even have McCain fuck me, while blowing Cheney. "Listen, Sarah, I don't know what you're selling but I'm not very political and whatever--" "Just as what Monica Lewinski did with Bill Clinton, you don't have to be political to know that fame translates into fortune, especially when there's sex involved. Those two sex acts, agreeing to have anal sex with Senator McCain, who wanted me to call him Mr. President, and blowing Vice-President Cheney, who loved calling me Mommy, especially when I had his cock in my mouth, made me a multi-millionaire." "Sorry, but I don't understand," I said looking at her, as if she was as crazy as she was drunk. "You don't understand? Allow to explain," she said taking a step forward. "Before I allow you to have sex with me, let me ask you a question. What can you do for me? Huh? What can you do for me? I'll tell you what you can do for me? Nothing. You can't do anything that I can't do for myself," she said jabbing a finger in my chest. "I don't need any damn man." "Who are you?" "As if you don't already know," she said with a smirk, while looking right at me with solid eye contact. Then, I recognized her. "Sarah? Sarah Palin? Governor Palin?" "You betcha," she said jabbing another finger in my chest. "Well, looking at this Spartan cabin, the only thing you can do for me is give me some grub, a place to sleep, and some clothes. That's not a bad exchange for what I have in mind," she said putting her hands on her hips and pushing out her pelvis, as if she was already humping me. "I don't believe I'm standing in a cabin in the middle of the Alaskan rainforest with a naked Sarah Palin. Just as there are a million guys who'd rather turn gay than to have sex with you, there are millions more who'd give their right arm to be in my situation. I can't believe it. Sarah Palin." "That's what makes this country so great," she said as if at a nudist voting rally. "So, c'mon. Let's get this over with 'cause if you're gonna fuck me, let's just do it. We'll both be needin' a place to sleep later. After I eat and get warm, I just want some shuteye and not a boyfriend. I'd rather we do our sexual thing now than later, when I'm trying to sleep. I need to get my strength back and I can't do that with you poking at me with your cock all night in the sleeping bag." "Okay," I said. "C'mon, whip it out. Show me your cock. Let's see what ya got," she said staring down at the bulge in my pants. Not ever having been with a woman like this, she confounded me. Taking the lead away from me in the way she did, putting everything out on the table, I felt as if I was the woman and she was the man in this relationship. Suddenly feeling a bit emasculated, I could feel my erection soften. I unzipped myself and pulled out my limp little cock. While reaching my hand out to feel her breast. "Sorry, but the cold--" "Is that it? Surely, it gets bigger than that. Even McCain and Cheney's old, wrinkled dicks were bigger than your limp, little fish." "You have beautiful breasts, Sarah," I said meaning that, while hoping to change the subject. Her breasts were exquisite. She must have paid a fortune for them. Whoever was her plastic surgeon was an artist. "I figured you for a breast man," she said puffing out her chest, while taking my exposed, flaccid cock in her hand and fondling me. "So, you like my titties, do you? Go ahead, give them a feel." "I do," I said fingering her nipple, first one and then the other, while watching them become erect. "I love your titties." "Go ahead, you can suck my tits. Suck Governor Palin's tits, Tom. You're lucky," she said cradling the back of my head with her hand, as I sucked her nipples. "If I had become the Vice President, I wouldn't be standing here now. I'd have a secret service detachment to protect me, even after I left office." I reached down to finger her pussy and she was already wet. Then, I kissed her, really kissed her and, this time, she returned my kiss. I didn't care about her stinking alcohol breath. I was too aroused. My cock was hard now and she was stroking it. "You're so sexy, Sarah." "Get out of them clothes," she said. I found it a bit sexy in the way she murdered the English language. "We can have some real fun in the sleeping bag. With it being Valentine's Day, I need a good fuck. After having sex with two old geezers, McCain and Cheney, and my husband sexually frustrating me Valentine's Eve, I need a good, hard, cock Tom. Can you accommodate me? I haven't been properly fuck, since ex-president Clinton got me alone in my office and locked my door. Now that man is sexy and he loves talking dirty. You should have heard all that he said about Hillary." "I had no idea that you had sex with McCain, Cheney, and Clinton," I said while stripping out of my clothes. "I'm a desirable woman. Possessing beauty instead of brains, I had to fuck and suck them all to get where I am. My ticket was my looks, always been and always will be. It helped that I was an ex-beauty queen," she said. "Now, with you being the writer that you are, so long as you don't mention my name, let me give you something to write about, an official Sarah Palin blowjob," she said falling to her knees. "Would you like that, Tom? Would you like for Sarah Palin to suck your cock on Valentine's Day?" "I would love for you to suck my cock on Valentine's Day, Sarah." "Well, think of this as a Happy Valentine's blowjob, as my gift to you for saving my life. Then, after we fuck, maybe I'll even let you do what we do in Alaska on a cold winter's night." "What's that, Sarah?" "Anal sex. Would you like to fuck, possibly the first woman president, Sarah Palin, up the ass?" Knowing that her own party would never allow her to run for president, I still wasn't going to pass up and offer of fucking Sarah Palin up the ass, that's for sure. "Are you kidding me, Sarah--" "Call me Governor. I like that." "I'd love to fuck you up the ass, Governor." We spent the next two hours fucking and sucking, until we fell asleep in the sleeping bag. We had sex every day, including anal sex, for the two days that she was here, when a helicopter overheard directed a search team of snowmobilers and search and rescue dogs to my cabin. Sworn to secrecy, I had to sign legal papers that would put me in jail for rape, if I told anyone that I had sex with Sarah Palin. Now, finally, I have something to write about, something that I never would have experienced had I stayed in New York, instead of venturing out to Alaska. Only, a true story, instead of a work of fiction, Sarah Palin, Sex, and Valentine's Day, no one would believe my story, anyway. I just need to come up with a different title. Maybe I'll just call it, Alaska. Please don't forget to vote, make a comment, and/or add me and this story to your favorite lists. Thank you for reading my story.