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The Candidate

By: MendonFishers



I awoke in darkness. For that brief moment, not know sure where I was. Rolling on my side I felt for my wife, her side of the bed was empty. At first I thought she had gotten up to use the bathroom in these early hours of the morning, but then I remembered. Her side had been vacant for the last 6 years and I was alone.

Struggling toward consciousness, I realized that I was not in my own bed? Where was I? Then I remembered, I was in Washington, DC. There as an invited guest, asked to speak at the Presidential Inauguration.

Turning to the night table next to the bed, I glanced at the clock. Shit! Pretty soon it would be 6:00am and I would be forced to begin my day. There were the aids, the speech writers, the party faithful, and dozens of other hangers-on all wanting a piece of me.

But I still had a little time to hover in that place, between wake-fullness and sleep, pondering my life, the successes, the failures, the heartbreak, and the hole left in my heart by my missing wife. If she could be here, she would be so proud of her husband. Years ago, when I was elected Governor, she was so excited by all the gala events at the state level, that I thought she might need a tranquilizer.

You see, my wife was the driving force behind my success. Mary was the one that pushed me ever and ever higher. I had been perfectly satisfied being a lowly County Supervisor. But no way was she going to settle for that. Mary wanted to be the Governor's wife, or at least a State Senator's wife.

I rolled over on my back and thought about how it all began.

After three years I was fresh out of the Army in 1969. Luckily, I didn't end up in Viet Nam, I was sent to Korea instead. Not that I wouldn't have gone to Nam, but I just wanted to live a bit longer.

My Army job was a surveyor for the artillery. That sounded pretty safe to me, but at graduation from Survey School (I finished 2nd in my class) I was given a pay raise and promoted. They told me I would be installing the Forward Observer's positions.

I was really proud of the honor and the promotion, until I had that "Oh Shit" moment. The Forward Observer sat on the front lines and rained "Hell Fire" on the enemy. My job would be to survey in the map coordinates of his spot, so that Fire Direction Control knew his location and could plot the artillery fire from his radio calls.

In other words, my new job would put me right on the front lines. So as you can see, I was glad to go to Korea instead of Viet Nam.

Korea was hot in the summer and cold in the winter. I was assigned to the 2nd Infantry Division's Artillery's Headquarters Survey Section. Actually it was easy duty.

The "post" was small and located on the side of a mountain. So for the entire year I was there, I walked either uphill or down. There was no such thing as a flat spot.

The only other drawback was saluting. At our Headquarters, we had a "full bird" Colonel, two Lieutenant Colonels, eight Majors, etc. Do you get the picture? The officers multiplied like rabbits as their rank went down. By the time it got down to 2nd Lieutenant, we had enough to use as bookends.

I know that doesn't sound like a lot, but there were only about 200 individuals on the post. Now, me being an enlisted man, I had to salute until I felt as if my arm would fall off. So you guessed it, I was always volunteering for anything that would get me off post and give my arm a break.

Like I said before, it wasn't such a bad assignment. You see there were not enough of us enlisted guys to pull all those "extra" duties the Army dreams up, like Guard Duty, KP, and such, so Korean nationals were hired to do them. That meant we had our evenings and weekends almost free.

"OK big deal you say!"

Well remember prostitution was legal over there, and really cheap! For $0.50 you could get your pipes cleaned, for $2.00 a quickie and $5.00 got you the whole night. For a 21 year old male with no one waiting at home for him, it was like dying and going to heaven.

++++++

It's summer in Korea. The monsoons have stopped, and the dirt roads and trails have turned from mud to dust overnight, or so it seemed. It was the middle of the week, it was noon and I was done with my day's duties.

While it seems that I was goofing off, I actually got started at midnight the night before. The North Koreans had moved extra artillery into the de-militarized zone.

I had just returned from the local village at 11:00pm. I had spent a pleasant evening with one of the "working" girls and therefore I was relatively sober (but very drained and satisfied). For some reason, the girls become upset if you are drinking a beer while .....Well you know!

So the Sergeant grabbed me, a couple of other guys and off we went to our side of the DMZ to survey in the new guns. Our guys wanted to be able to direct a hit if they were needed.

A little description of this area is in order now. There are NO paved roads in this area. They are dirt road rutted with wheel tracks and pot holes. So you pounded your body to death driving these roads. And if you were in the vehicle following, besides the pounding, the dust was unbearable. I got lucky and was driving the front vehicle.

Those roads were before you entered the DMZ. You could tell you were entering the DMZ because you crossed a very long bridge. The bridge had explosive charges placed every 10 feet. If the North Koreans decided to come south, that bridge would not be standing by the time they reached it. Unfortunately, that would leave all of us north of that bridge with no way back.

I began to feel expendable.

When we finished our survey, rechecked the entire computations and radioed in the results, (Yea, we wanted the North Koreans to know we had them pegged), we started back down south. This whole thing was sort of routine. It seems as if the North Koreans moved something at least once or twice a month. I guess they just didn't want us to get good night's sleep.

Because this happened so often, and because we really could not get some real sleep on post, we were allowed to start our "24 hour" passes to the village when we got back.

That's the reason I was "walking to town".

I had a few regular girls that I visited when this happened. The girls I chose were usually out of bed by the time I got there, and starting their daily routines before starting to "work". This way I could grab 4-5 uninterrupted hours of sleep for about $2.00.

This particular day, it was hot and humid. I climbed on the bed, completely naked, and fell promptly to sleep. Not even bothering to climb under the covers. I guess my only attempt at modesty was to sleep on my stomach.

After sleeping 5 hours, I woke up to find Kim sleeping next to me. She was also naked but was sleeping on her back on top of the covers with me. Even though it was evening, I still woke up with my morning "Woody" trying to drill a hole into Kim's mattress. Looking over at her, guess what I wanted to do.

A little lesson in etiquette is due now. This isn't home; you just don't roll over on top, poke in your erection, and go to town. All that will get you is one very pissed off girl and usually a ban from using any of the other girls.

A "ban" is something any horny 21 year old will do anything to avoid.

So I started gently kissing her ear, face, and neck, heading south to her breasts. She smelled of bath oil and scented soap. That smell indicated she had visited the bathhouse before coming to bed. It also indicated she had not started into her chosen field of work yet today.

I kissed and nibbled at her very gently. I did not want to interrupt her sleep too abruptly. As I kissed and sucked on her breasts, I began to notice her arousal. Her nipples were beginning to elongate. Her breathing was starting to deepen. I was actually starting to arouse her.

I was shocked!

The "working girls" didn't make love to their customers. They didn't actually even fuck them. They sort of just laid there, whispering things like, "Time almost up", or "hurry up", or "done yet"?" and let the customer do all the work. For the guy it was like masturbating, except it was into a warm body instead of a blowup doll.

That's why I felt like a hero when I noticed her reacting to my show of affection.

Unlike many young men, I actually read Penthouse as well as looking at the pictures. My favorite read was the letters to the editor.

There were many things I wanted to try that I had learned by reading them. So I began applying that knowledge to her body. (OK, so she should have been awake, but what the hell....)

Her belly sucked in as I licked and tongued her navel. Her hips started moving softly, without her control. I kept kissing and licking lower. Her breathing deepened even more. She was in that state where she wasn't quite asleep, but not awake yet either.

She was just caught up in the sensations.

My tongue finally reached her pubic hair. It was soft and silky, smelling of fine soap. I probed further and found her pubic dimple. I probed it with quick flicks of my tongue. She moaned and raised her hips to feel more of my tongue in it.

I moved my head between her legs. I flattened out my tongue and followed that wonderful valley from her pubic dimple down until my head was stopped by the mattress. She again raised her hips, inviting me to lick down further.

And I did.

I was novice at the fine art of oral sex. But I was learning quickly, I noticed a different smell that I could not identify. It was mixed in with the soap and body lotions I could identify. I didn't know it at the time, but it was to become my favorite female smell.

It was the smell of a woman in heat, ready to share her total self with her mate.

I shifted my position to between her legs and was awarded by her spreading them far enough apart to allow me between them.

I licked her again.

This time faster and with greater pressure. I was again rewarded with a moan and more hip movement. To be exact, her hips lifted off the mattress.

I began to feel braver. I pointed my tongue and started sliding it up and down her slit, pushing deeper in with every stroke. By now she was completely out of control. She was pounding her hips off the mattress and moaning continually.

One of us was in heaven. The other one felt his ego get a tremendous boost.

Then it happened. My tongue found her magic spot and she started her orgasm. Her legs tightened around my head so I couldn't move. The only things I could move were my mouth and tongue.

And move them I did.

I licked and sucked her magic spot. She went crazy. I noticed that there was a lot more moisture than I could attribute to my licking her. I put two of my fingers into her and discovered she was soaked. I started moving my fingers in and out of her in time with my tongue. She went crazy! She was screaming and jerking uncontrollably. She was in continuous orgasm.

Suddenly she stiffened and just stopped moving, collapsing on the bed motionless. I panicked thinking I had somehow injured her. I quickly slid up the bed and grabbed her head. Her eyes opened, she put her arms around my neck, kissed me deeply, and said "thank you" in broken English.

From that moment on, I learned that there was a lot more to sex than just sticking it in and going to town. I learned that giving pleasure to a woman gave a man the feeling of the greatest power of all, and she returned the favor, times ten.

I no longer had to pay for sex the rest of the time I was in Korea. It seems that the "working" girls in the village talked and I became something of a hero to be tried by many others, always with Kim's permission of course.

++++++

I was brought back from my daydream by a pounding at my bedroom door. I guess they couldn't wait for the desk to process my wakeup call. Then I heard a little voice calling, "Grandpa, Can I come in?"

It was Samantha my favorite granddaughter. "Favorite Granddaughter?" Just ask her, that's what she tells everyone.

"Go Away! There's no one home" I yell, while putting on my robe.

The door pops open and this little blond headed ball of fire, dressed in pink, attacks me. She jumps up and grabs me around the neck, covers me with kisses. And then scowls at me.

"You forgot your cane" she scolds me. And off she goes to find it and bring it to me.

"Mommy and me don't want you falling down again and hurting yourself" she lectures me.

Then I feel old and frail again. I'm only in my 50's but need a cane to help me keep my balance, the result of a stroke 6 years ago. My granddaughter needs to remind me to be careful. At 4 years old, she's old way beyond her years.

"Samantha! Are you bothering your grandfather already?" Says my daughter Danielle walking into the bedroom. She and her husband Bill are using one of the other bedrooms in this suite.

This luxury suite is one of the finest in Washington, DC. It is completely paid for by my political party. I guess it's one of the perks of reaching the "big-time" in politics. I guess someone thinks it will impress me. They don't really know me very well.

"Grandpa forgot his cane and I was just getting it for him." The little "rat" told her mother.

Of course her mother gave me the "look". How many times has she lectured me about just that simple thing? "Dad!" she said.

My daughter grabbed her daughter and starts leaving the room telling me to get cleaned up because breakfast would be served in an hour.

My daughter, Danielle is so very much like her mother. Here I am one of the most powerful men in the United States, Governor of New York State, and she still orders me around. And I guess I'll accept her orders because I love her.

I picked up my cane and started toward the bathroom remembering how this all started.

+++++++

It was just before Christmas when I was discharged, the Army felt that I could get home in time to spend the holidays with my parents. My mother was thrilled! Her little boy (I was 6 ft tall and weighed 180 lbs! But you know Mothers) was home safe and sound.

Since I had just served my country, I wasn't in any hurry to go back to work. My Dad wanted me to join him in the family business, as my two younger brothers had. I learned early in my life that my Dad and I could not work together. You see there was the right way, the wrong way, and Dad's way of doing everything. My brothers could put up with that, but I never could. All I had to do was pick up a hammer, when Dad was around, give it an hour, and we were at each other's throats.

I don't mean to give the impression that we hated each other. That was not the truth. We loved each other, but we just couldn't work together, or discuss deep subjects. The rest of the time we were typical father and son.

Since I really didn't have a clue what I wanted to do for a living. I decided that I would draw unemployment while I made up my mind.

So off to the state unemployment office I went. One of their rules was the "client" had to do job interviews while drawing checks.

I was sent to the local public utility for my first interview. Just my luck, they hired me. There I was learning the ropes in Customer Service. I never did manage to draw an unemployment check.

I loved the work. I got to wear a suit and tie and help people with their problems. It sure beat working with my family on dirty construction sites.

The veteran employees, who had burned out in the job, no longer really helped the customer. They basically told people, "If they didn't like it. They could take their business elsewhere".

Neat trick since we were the only company to sell gas and electric in the area. I resisted that attitude and learned to really work to help the customer. Little did I know how valuable this would be in my later life.

+++++++

Before I went in the Army I had dated one of a pair of sisters. My date was a "good catholic girl" and I got "nothing" (which was all I was looking for at that time in my life). But she had a younger sister who had a boyfriend. The boyfriend (Pete) and I became pretty good friends while we both dated the sisters. When I returned from service, I looked him up.

Well I got the surprise of my life when I finally found him. In the three years I was gone, he married the sister, had a new baby girl, and his father had gotten really, really rich. It seems that his little family business caught the eye of some huge multinational corporation which bought them for a massive amount of money. Pete was living the good life.

Before you ask, the sister I had dated was married, had moved to some exotic location with her husband and was living off Daddy's money. (So much for the easy life for me.)

Pete and I had lunch together and basically brought each other up to date on our lives. So I wasn't surprised to receive an invitation to a costume party at his house when October rolled around. I grabbed a girl I was seeing, and off we went.

The party was a success. But I did notice that Pete and his wife were traveling in some powerful company. At least half of the guests there were local politicians. It seemed Pete had joined the big time.

As the holiday season approached, I found that I was invited to a lot of parties through him. These parties had one thing in common. Republicans! And anyone who was anyone in the Republican Party was at these parties. The impressive thing was they actually started talking to me, asking my ideas, impressions, and just making me feel as if I belonged. Me, just a poor, working class guy!

On the down side my girlfriend was a Democrat, soon I was attending these parties alone.

I really don't know how it happened, but all of a sudden, I was going to Republican Party meetings and caucuses. Don't get the idea I was there as an important contributor, unless you count getting coffee, soft drinks, and extra chairs a major political contribution. But I fell in love with the political process there.

It was at one of these meetings, I saw her. She was beautiful. She had long blond hair, stunning blue eyes, and a body to die for. I think I fell in love with her at first sight. Now she was with a delegation from downstate. They were sent to make sure we "hicks" knew what the party line was and followed it blindly.

That was my first taste of party politics. I didn't like it, but knew enough to keep my mouth shut around these "Big Shots".

I couldn't keep my eyes off my new love; I knew she was way out of my league. She lived in a section of the state where the average home cost a million dollars or better. She talked with that Ivy League school accent and dressed in outfits that would have cost me a month's salary. (I found out later it was more like 6 months pay).

Later that evening, when a downstate representative was lecturing us, and being really obnoxious, she glanced over my way and a little grin, as if to say, "Yeah! He's really a jerk".

Then I agreed with her by a simple nod, I knew I had just made a friend for life.

Soon the meeting wound down, and they left in their limo for the airport and their private jet back to New York City.

We wouldn't meet for again for years.

A few months later there was an emergency meeting of the local party leaders. It seems one of their candidates was caught by his wife with his fingers in another man's wife's "honey pot".

The meeting was to pick his replacement on the ticket. This particular spot was for a seat in the state legislature that was held by a long term Democrat, who was not expected to lose.

I was in the kitchen area making a fresh pot of coffee, when I heard my name being called. I stuck my head out the door and yelled that the coffee was almost ready and I would bring it out.

Well that brought the house down.

They started laughing, so hard I was sure I would soon need to call 911. When the local party chairman was able to bring himself under control, he said, "You've just been voted to be our candidate for the Senate seat".


The Candidate



After I got back up off the floor, they sat me down and explained why they wanted me. It seems that they have been watching me the last few years and felt I had everything they needed.

They also felt I would not win this seat, after all it was held by a long term Democrat, but the experience I gained would be invaluable further down the road.

It seems they had plans for me.

I started to stutter the reasons why I couldn't accept, but these guys would not take "no" for an answer. There was no denying it; I'd been railroaded into accepting a place on the ticket. So my name was officially on the ballot.

"Scared shitless" was an excellent description for me!

Thus began my political career. I was sent all over the district, to meet and greet the voters. Now I really didn't have a clue how to give the "chicken in every pot" speeches politicos were famous for. So I just started by introducing myself and asking them if they had any questions for me and what they would want me to do.

I guess that defined my campaign style.

If I was talking from a stage, I'd grab the mike off the podium; sit down with my feet dangling off the edge, and say, "Here I am! Let's talk."

The voters loved it.

They would open up to me and discuss their problems, their dreams, and their hopes. I couldn't solve all their problems, but once a problem was voiced, suggestions popped up all over the audience.

There were usually some political activists sneaking into these meeting with the express purpose of disrupting everything. They didn't succeed. They were shouted down by the people who actually wanted to see the meeting succeed.

Sometimes I feared for these activists's safety and waded into the crowd to protect them.

Somewhere along the way, I was discovered by the press. And they liked me.

They started showing up at my rallies. At first they kept to the back, just took pictures and watched. Soon, however, they were asking questions and participating like all the other voters.

Needless to say, I usually got "good" press.

When that second Tuesday in November rolled around, I won. I'd like to say it was a landslide, but it wasn't. I won by under 1000 votes. (Hey, New York State was a Democratic stronghold, after all.)

The night of the election I was in my local party's ball room awaiting the election results, when they told me I had a phone call. It was from my opponent, conceding the election. He was a class act. We talked on the phone for the next hour and ended becoming fast friends.

As the years went on, I developed my style as a Politian. I represented my district. I saw to their needs, wants, and desires. I refused to play politics. I voted against my party as often as I voted with them.

I represented the people, not a political ideology.

I was elected to a second term, unopposed.

During my years in the State Senate, I became fast friends with John Bricker, my first opponent. When I was back in my district we'd meet for dinner, a cigar, and a little brandy at his home or his club.

And of course we'd talk politics. He missed the wheeling and dealing that happened behind closed doors in the senate. I'd bring him up to date on the goings on and he'd fill me in on all the players and how to "get around" them. He was my best friend, like a second father to me, as I took the place of the son he never had.

All these years and I never found a woman to love, a woman to marry and raise a family with. Oh there were plenty of women around. I was a man of power; I was a State Senator, in the news, and on TV. The women were there. I just used them for sexual relief. There was no emotional bonding. Some of them were just for one overnight, and some were longer affairs.

But they all ended up leaving me because I just wouldn't commit. Something was always missing in those relationships.

One night after a fine dinner with John, we were sitting on his deck discussing politics, smoking fine cigars and sipping brandy, when he changed the subject,

"Why haven't you found a woman yet?"

"What?" I was floored by his question.

He immediately went into the fine points of having a wife. Besides the cooking, cleaning, and family-raising, she would also be a great political asset. Nothing looks finer to the voters than a man and his family standing before them, reflecting their values.

I took another puff on my cigar, and chased it with a sip of brandy, and thought about what he said.

Then I remember the beautiful blond headed woman I saw many years ago at a political meeting and my heart skipped a beat. So I explained to him how I met Mary, her beauty, her wealthy background, and her being the standard I compared all my other dates too.

And I guessed I still loved her even after seeing her only once.

He questioned me about her, and the others that had attended that meeting so many years ago. He went on about an hour, and then his age got the best of him. We said goodnight, and he retired to bed as I showed myself out.

Over the next few weeks, I completely forgot about the conversation.

About a month later he invited me to dinner at his club. Since this was about the normal time span between our meetings, I didn't think anything about it. We were deeply into a discussion about a current piece of the budget, when I spotted my dream woman walking across the dining room in our general direction. She seemed to be looking for someone.

All of a suddenly John was on his feet, waving his arm and calling, "Mary!" She saw him and her smile lit up the room. She came over to our table and started apologizing for being late.

My mentor had set this meeting up, the sly old dog! I already loved him like a second father, and this kindness from him made me love him even more.

Somehow, I managed to remember my manners, and stood to hold her chair as she joined us at the table. A wave of John's hand summoned an attentive waiter to take Mary's drink order. By the time her cocktail reached our table, John was half-way through recounting my tale of having seen her all those years ago, and how I'd been so awe-struck by her beauty.

I was dead-certain that Mary could feel the heat of my blush, even across the table from me, and I was mentally evaluating the wisdom of pleading the need to visit the men's room so I could reclaim my cool, when she reached across the table and laid a soft hand on mine.

"I guess that's one more thing I owe you for, John," she told him. "I've never forgotten Tom's handsome, rugged face, either. And I've had ample time to regret that our respective situations, that night, denied us the chance to actually meet. Thank you for seeing to it that we have this second chance!"

At this point, the waiter cleared his throat to let us know that he was still standing by, waiting to take our dinner orders. We got that matter taken care of quickly, sending him on his way to the kitchen, and then settled into an easy three-way conversation.

Somewhere in the midst of that comfortable chat, our meals arrived. I ate mechanically, not really tasting the food. It was as if my body couldn't spare my tongue the necessary attention, my focus being solely on Mary. And it seemed to me -- hopefully, my opinion wasn't biased -- that Mary was experiencing similar sensations. It certainly seemed that her eyes were as glued to me as mine were, to her.

Eventually, we finished our dinner. Both Mary and I pleaded being too full for dessert, and settled for an after-dinner drink. John ordered brandies all around, and sent our waiter off to procure them. Moments later, he returned with three snifters, placed them in front of us, and then leaned down and whispered in John's ear.

"It seems that I have an urgent call from one of my clients," John sighed as the waiter departed. "I'm afraid that I have to leave. Will the two of you please forgive me?"

"Of course, John," Mary smiled sweetly at him. "Go take care of your client. Tom and I will be just fine."

"Do you have a way home?" He asked her.

"I took a cab to get here," she replied. "I'll get one to take me home, when I'm ready."

"Or I could give you a lift," I volunteered.

"That would be wonderful, Tom," she nodded. Her smile, however, told me that this was just what she was hoping would happen.

"Then I must be going," John smiled. "Have a pleasant evening, you two!"

With that, he turned and left the dining room.

"You do realize, don't you, that there's no client waiting for him?" I asked Mary, once John had passed beyond the doorway to the foyer.

"Of course!" she giggled. "The old dear brought us together, saw that we were getting along well enough, and then bowed out so as not to become an impediment to our getting to know each other better. I'll have to figure out some way to thank him."

"I'll be calling my tobacconist, in the morning," I nodded, "and have a box of his favorite cigars sent to his office with my sincere thanks."

"Then, you're a cigar smoker, as well?" she asked me.

"Guilty as charged," I shrugged, suddenly regretting my comment. "Does the discovery upset you?"

"God, no!" she shook her head vehemently. "I've been around cigar smoke since the day I was born! Politicians and cigars go together almost as well as coffee and cream!"

"That's good," I grinned at her, making a point of wiping my forehead in relief with an exaggerated gesture.

"To be perfectly honest, I've been known to enjoy a good cigar myself, on occasion," she revealed, leaning toward me and speaking in a low, conspiratorial tone. "Just not in public. For some reason, society seems to have a negative opinion of women who smoke cigars. I wonder what they would say, if they knew that the First Lady indulges..."

"You're kidding!" I gasped. "Pat Nixon...?"

"Oh, not the really big ones that most men favor," Mary shook her head. "They're only just a bit larger than one of those new one-hundred-millimeter cigarettes, but they're most definitely cigars!"

"How do you know this?" I asked.

"Dad and the president are old college fraternity brothers, and the president still picks Dad's brains about a few things. We've been invited to informal dinners at the White House a few times. After dinner, the men break out their cigars and head for one of the small drawing rooms, while the ladies are left to chat about more mundane topics. Among friends, the First Lady is a little more... relaxed."

I was in heaven. Mary was beautiful, charming, and a great conversationalist. She was smart, witty, and she seemed very much to like me.

And if our relationship went as far as I found myself hoping it would, I wouldn't even have to worry about being exiled to the garage or the patio to enjoy my occasional cigar!

Eventually, the evening grew late. I had an early appearance at the State House, the next day, and Mary also confessed to having a full agenda planned. Though, that wouldn't have been the guess of anyone who saw us standing on her front porch. A simple goodnight kiss turned into more, and it was fully half an hour before she stepped inside and closed the door gently between us.

Not, of course, before I had managed to secure her promise to have dinner with me again, two nights hence.

We started dating. I loved her. We were soon a couple.

Mary appeared everywhere I was. When the Senate was in session, some days she was in the gallery when I was speaking, some days she was in the lunch room. She was always there, and I was falling head over heels in love with her.

She would stop in my Senate office with lunch, lock the door and we'd have sex, never getting around to eating, lunch that is. My secretary claimed that we put rabbits to shame. (I always thought we were quiet?)

There were some days; I just about could walk back to the Senate chambers. Mary didn't leave my office on those days; she said she couldn't get her legs closed. When I returned to my office, I kissed her boo-boo. We were usually the last people in the building when we left.

We were married one year later. With her at my side, I now felt complete.

Mary became the perfect wife. She was everything I could ever want. Within two years she gave birth to our daughter Danielle, three years later Tom Jr. She was the perfect wife and mother, standing at my side at political events, the loving wife and mother.

The press loved her, almost as much as she loved the attention from them.

One day I got a phone call that my old friend and mentor, John, had died. He was the elder statesman of the state's Democratic Party. They were doing a tribute to him on prime time television. All the important Democrats were asked to speak.

The Republican Party was also asked to provide a speaker. They asked me.

The night of the tribute I was slated to speak at the end of all the Democratic speakers and just before the Governor. My party had some of their best speech writers draft a spectacular tribute to John.

All of which amounted to about 10% of my total speech. The rest was pure politics.

When my turn to speak came, I walked on stage and up to the podium; it was a very elaborate set up. It had multiple microphones and two state of the art projection systems, so that I could read "my" speech without my eyes ever leaving the television cameras.

I guess the powers to be had forgotten the deceased was my best friend, because they almost fainted when I walked up to the stand, removed one of the mikes, walked to the edge of the stage and sat down.

The spotlight guys were fast, they illuminated me as if it was all planned. The television guys were a little slower. The stage manager was pleading with me to stand up and get on the mark, but I refused.

I started the speech by introducing myself and said,

"John was my best friend. And I sure will miss him. I'm a Republican and he was a Democrat, but we never let that get in the way of us being friends".

The audience started applauding and didn't stop for the next few minutes. When they settled back down, I went on to explain our friendship. How he helped me be a better person, helped me to understand the political process, and most importantly how he introduced me to my beautiful wife.

My allotted 15 minutes stretched out to an hour, and the tears were running freely down my face toward the end.

I finally ended my eulogy by looking to the heavens and saying,

" John, when my time comes, I hope you will allow me to continue being your friend. And if they allow it up there, I'd like to continue our after dinner brandy and cigars".

I ended by saying, "I'm going to miss you a lot old friend".

At that point I lost it and broke down crying. My lovely wife ran on stage wrapped her arms around me and walked me off stage.

They told me later that there wasn't a dry eye in the house and even some of the hardnosed television anchors had lumps in their throats.

The Governor then spoke for his allotted time. It was your typical "Chicken in every Pot" speech. He wasn't exactly booed off stage, but it was deathly quiet as he walked off.

One year later I was elected Governor.

++++++

In 1992, I was just completing my first term and getting ready to run for re-election. My last four years in office was a real learning experience. I'd never thought I would ever get this high in the political process. And I had my work cut out for me. I pissed some people off, and moderately angered a few more, but generally succeeded in making the state a little better place in which to live.

I didn't let the power and glory go to my head. I tried to hold "Town Hall" style meetings every month. My style of sitting on the edge of the stage and just carrying on conversations with the folks still produced open dialog between us. Everyone attending loved the open conversation, the ability to walk up to me and talk. Everyone but my security detail that is. They had kittens every time someone hugged me or walk up and just shook hands.

About one month before Election Day, my re-election committee decided that my wife should hold a news conference extolling the virtues of one of her favorite charities. So there I stood behind her offering support for her first time behind the microphones. She read a prepared statement explaining the charity, its goals and achievements.

Then she made the biggest mistake of our lives. She opened the floor to any questions from the press.

The first few were soft ball questions asked by reporters who realized she was scared and nervous. Then came the reporter from one of the tabloids, he had a large manila envelope in his hand. I was expecting a hardball question and stepped up behind my wife.

Little did I know how hardball it would turn out to be.

Stepping up to the microphone he began by addressing my wife by her first name,

"Mary, does your husband, the Governor, know that neither one of your children are his? To be more precise, they both have different fathers? I have DNA tests proving this?"

I immediately stepped up to the podium to defend her, when I looked into her face. I could tell by the look of horror and shame on her face, it was all true.

She looked at me and mouthed," I'm sorry." Her eyes filled with tears, and then she turned and ran.

My world turned black and I could feel myself falling.

I awoke two weeks later in a hospital bed, my son and daughter by my side. It seemed I had been in a coma.

They were both college students by then, but looked like they had been through hell. I smiled at them.

My son jumped up ran to the door and yelled," He's awake". My daughter began crying.

For the next hour or so, I was poked, prodded, and examined by just about every professional in the hospital. Well maybe not the whole building, but at least on this floor. Finally they told me what happened.

I had had a stroke. It seems a small blood vessel in my brain had decided to spring a leak. It resulted in my left side being completely paralyzed.

I was assured that with hard work and physical therapy, I would regain most of the usage in my left side.

I was devastated.

When my children were allowed back in the room, I asked how their mother was holding up under all this stress since she wasn't in the room. They looked at each other and my daughter said,

"We don't know Dad. She ran off the stage when you collapsed and hasn't been seen since."

Then the memories flooded back from that moment two weeks ago. And I cried. The love of my life had gone leaving me, a hole in my heart that she had once occupied, and a nagging question, "Why?"

+++++

I'm sitting with my family around the breakfast table, surveying the remains of a very fancy meal. My mind wanders again.

I remember the months I spent in physical therapy; learning how to walk, to use my vocal cords, to use my left arm, and a host of other things. My therapy lasted almost one year before I was judged ready to return to work.

Oh yeah, my name was on the ballot again, and the people of the state reelected me governor. I was still in a coma when they did the deed. I'm just glad my running mate was a very smart woman. She stepped into the job as if she was born into it.

About 6 months into my rehab, someone decided that it would do my Lt Governor a lot of good if I appeared at a town hall meeting with her. So I was plopped in a wheelchair and off I went. When I arrived, the hall was already full and the reporters were lining the walls.

Somebody let it slip to the media that I would be here.

Sarah, my Lt Gov., was supposed to hold this meeting, and was the first to walk out on stage. The crowd gave her a very warm welcome. She put her speech on the podium and started reading. Well I wasn't going to let her read to these people, she need just to talk to them, so out on stage I rolled in my wheels.

The crowd went wild. I rolled up to Sarah, grabbed her carefully prepared speech and tossed it off the front of the stage. I then took her hand, told her to grab a mike and we marched/rolled to the front of the stage.




The Candidate



When I got there I called out for a chair for her to sit on because,

"We couldn't let a lady sit on the edge of the stage with a skirt on because too many of the men in the audience might try to look up her skirt. I was going to let her sit on my lap, but then I remembered how big her husband is,"

The crowd loved it and Sarah just blossomed. They put her chair down right next to me and she joined me. I took her arm and put it through mine.

I picked up the mike and said,

"The two of us are a team! If anyone out there messes with her I'll roll over your toes with my wheel chair."

The crowd loved it; I was back in the groove.

Then I said, "Sara's in charge here and doing my job in the capitol until they make that building Handicap Accessible." I now had everyone's attention.

(The next morning the paper's headlined, "He's back! And just as sharp as before")

We got serious and started the open discussion style meeting. I started off, but soon Sarah took over. She had found her element; all it took was a little push to get her started.

I looked around the auditorium and spotted her husband and her teenage daughter. They were smiling from ear to ear, two prouder people could not be found.

At the end of the evening one of the reporters started about my about my wife and wanted to know how I felt when I found out my children weren't mine.

Sarah let him have it, up one side and down the other.

When she was done, I grabbed the mike from Sarah's hand, with tears streaming down my face I said,

"I love my wife. Every night I pray to God, that I get well enough to go out and start looking for her. There is a large hole in my heart that only she can fill."

"Mary, please come home, I need you."

At this point I lost it and broke down sobbing. Sarah jumped up and pushed my wheel chair off stage.

The crowd began clapping and shouting," Mary, come home."

Sarah held me while I sobbed.

I made the 11:00 pm news on all the networks. In the morning the print media across the country had headline, "Mary, come home." Or something like it accompanied by either a picture of my face with the tears streaming down, or the one where Sarah held me while I sobbed my heart out.

My political strategists loved it. They assumed I was just saying it to gain favor with the voters. They just couldn't understand I meant it.

But deep down inside I was still asking, "Why?"

Time went by, I finished my therapy retaining a useless left hand, a little limp when I walked, and a screwed up inner ear that left me feeling dizzy if I moved to fast.

My son moved to the North Carolina, met a southern bell and started making babies, she's due for number 3 in the spring. My daughter married a local boy she met while in college, and they soon presented me with a grandchild.

Life was good for me now, except for that empty spot in my chest where my heart used to be.

"Mary, I still love you."

+++++

One of my aids walked over to me with a heavy coat on his arm for me to wear.

"Mr. President, it's time to get started heading downstairs to your inauguration."

+++++

Bill Jones was a free lance journalist. Most of his livelihood came from filing stories with the news services, hoping to be picked up by a publication that would pay him for the rights to use the story.

Bill did a series of articles on the porn industry. As the old saying goes, "Sex sells." And so did his articles.

One day he met a performer named "Brandy". He started talking to her and was impressed because she was well spoken and probably college educated.

She also loved her "work."

She talked to him about her feelings, her love of sex, and her stripping. She revealed that her first gang bang was when she was in college.

She said, "After that night, I was hooked. I loved sex with multiple partners and wanted it over and over again."

She described to him some of her various "parties", and how she was discovered by a producer. He hired her and let her fulfill her dream.

He sat through some of the filming of her sex scenes. They were exciting. He found that this was a different world. All the performers walked around naked or almost so. If it was warm enough, none of them bothered to get dressed between scenes. The women just walked around and talked about their next scene or other gossip.

The men talked about sports. The guys had a hard time keeping erect.

There were woman on the sets, whose jobs were just to keep the men hard. Bill, the reporter, didn't have that problem. To be exact, he had a "woody" from the time he walked on the set, until two or three hours after everyone left. One of the women commented that if the male performers were like him, she'd be out of a job.

The series of articles sold very well, but somewhere in the back of his mind he had the feeling that "Brandy" reminded him of someone.

A few years later, Bill wanted to do a follow-up story on her. He was told that the producer no longer used her because she kept showing up drunk or stoned. As hard as he tried, he was unable to find her for the story.

The producer said, "It was too bad she burnt out so quickly. She really liked her job."

A year went by and Bill was visiting a friend who was dying of cancer in a hospital. Walking down the hall of that ward, he was looking in the open doors. He thought of all the poor souls waiting to meet their maker.

For you see, this was where the hospital put their terminal cases.

In one room he saw a woman who looked familiar. He read the name tag, "Brandy Hill" it said. He stopped there and remembered all those hours of interviews. How they had almost became friends, how she disappeared, and how much he could make on selling a sequel.

He stopped a passing nurse and asked if he could see her because she was an old friend.

The nurse explained that her liver was failing and she didn't have much longer to live. He and the nurse entered Brandy's room. The nurse looked at the chart and explained that Brandy was very heavily sedated and would not be waking up for hours.   Bill noticed that Brandy's brown hair was blond at the roots, so he asked the nurse if the color change was because of the drugs she was on.

The nurse said Brandy was a natural blond.

Bill wondered why she had dyed her hair that ugly brown, when blond looked so much better.

Later that afternoon as Bill was sitting in a Starbucks, sipping a coffee, and outlining his article, when the light went on.

He knew why Brandy dyed her hair. He recognized her.

He took out his cell phone and started dialing. This was going to be the story of his life.

Epilog:

I've been in office two years now, but I feel as if it's been 20 years. This job is really tough on a person. I spend my days going from one meeting to another, never getting a chance to "zone out" in between. And I feel as if I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.

Right now I'm in a cabinet meeting. Some days they just bicker and I spend the whole meeting acting like a referee. Today was one of those days. I was building up to giving one of the august gentlemen a swift kick in the pants, when my personal secretary came running into the meeting.

"Your daughter's on your private line, she said it's an emergency."

I push the speaker button and yell, "What's wrong?"

My daughter's voice came from the speaker phone, everyone could hear,

"They found Mom, Dad, but she's dying. They said she only has a week or two left because her liver's almost gone."

I looked at my VP, "Sarah, you're in charge now. Have the Attorney General draw up the necessary papers so I can resign."

The Attorney General started to argue. He said that I didn't need to resign. I could still run the government while I helped my wife get well. The country needed me.

I told him to, "Shove it," and to draft the paperwork.

(I was to find out later that he completely ignored my wishes)

I turned to my Joint Chief; he was talking on his phone and held up 1 finger. The General hung up his phone and said, "We can have you in the air in 20 Minutes, my people are sending a chopper to your daughter house as we speak to get her and her husband."

God I loved the military, they were always ready for whatever.

++++++

Six hours later I was in LA, in the hospital, walking as rapidly down the hall of the Critical Care Unit. I was, along with my daughter, and a couple of Secret Service agents, headed for my wife's room.

When we got to her room, we were confronted by a very mean looking nurse. She sounded like one of my old Drill Sergeants from the Army, when she yelled,

"Just where do you all think you're going? Just who do you think you are the President?"

I turned and gave her the "Look". You know which one. The one I give my staff, my cabinet members, or various member of congress when I want something done.

"My God", she said, "you are him!"

Then her forehead wrinkled and you could see the wheels turning in her head, "She's your wife, isn't she?"

I nodded.

She hugged me and said, "I'm glad you finally found her."

She then explained that my wife's health was so poor, the doctors had ordered her kept in fairly sterile conditions. All this, while handing my daughter and I gowns and stuff to put on. When we were covered, she opened the door and let us in the room.

She made the Secret Service guys wait in the hall. They actually looked a little scared of her.

I saw my wife for the first time in almost 15 years. She was just a shadow of her former self, thin to the point of looking emaciated, her beautiful blond hair now an ugly shade of brown, and obviously dyed because of the blond roots showing. She looked at least 20 years older than her 40+ years.

In other words, she looked like hell.

My daughter had run up to her side and said, "Mom? Is that you?"

My wife's eyes flew open looking at my daughter. A smile slowly crossed her face and then the tears started flowing from those stunning blue eyes. The eyes I thought about just before going to sleep every night, and again in the morning when I awoke.

I knew this was my wife, my heart was complete again. My eyes started tearing up. There were so many questions I had for her, but first I needed to make her well.

My daughter started crying, grabbing her mother's frail hand off the bed, and said,

"I love you, Please come back to us. I want you to meet my husband and your granddaughter." "Please don't die."

At this point my daughter started to collapse; I was the closest and held on to her until the nurse got to her side. She was taken out to the hall and turned over to her husband and child.

I was left standing by my wife's bed, the tears running down my cheeks. She turned her blue eyes toward me, the sadness showing all over her face, she held her hand up for me to hold.

She said, "I still love you. I'm so sorry I caused you so much pain."

She started to cry.

The nurse spoke softly to me, from my side, "Let's go outside now, she needs her rest."

Another nurse stuck a needle in her IV, and I watched my wife drift off to sleep. I allowed myself to be led outside.

I walked out into the hall and into a mess. I guess, as President, I really couldn't sneak around without the press finding me, and there they were. The Secret Service, supported by hospital security, was trying to hold them back. But the news media was winning.

I raised my hand and said, "There are sick people on this floor. Let's go somewhere we can talk. You guys lead, and I'll answer all your questions."

One reporter who looked local yelled, "Follow me, I know the way to the hospital's auditorium."

The crowd quieted down, opened up so I could get to the front, and we started walking away. Now I won't tell you everyone was perfect. One of the local reported started yelling out questions. He was on a roll until one of the female reporters slapped him across the face and told him to shut up unless he wanted to sing "Soprano". He got the message and got very quiet.

When we got to the auditorium, someone helped me so I could sit on the edge of the stage, a microphone appeared in my hand, and I smiled and said,

"The hole is my heart has healed, it's her, but she's very sick."

The flash bulbs started going off, the cameras ground on, and the room erupted into cheers. I found my hand repeatedly shook by these cynical old reporters. Some of them hugged me, kissing my face. The head of my Secret Service Detail almost had a heart attack until he realized that every just wanted to share this special moment with me.

I looked around and I found I wasn't the only one crying. I guess some of the reporters were not as tough as they pretended to be.

When everything settled back down, the news conference went back on for the next 2 hours. Whenever a question was asked that I had no answer for, a doctor would appear behind me and take over. I found out that my wife's liver was failing and she had only a couple of weeks to live. She needed a liver transplant to survive. She was also a drug addict, so she was at the bottom of the transplant list.

The doctor who was presenting this was asked all about transplants, compatibility matching, what was needed to match with her for a transplant to succeed. When the requirements were discussed, a couple of the people in the conference stood and volunteered as donors on the spot.

I thought, "They didn't even know her, and yet they want to help."

Someone handed me a glass of water at this point. I guess because I was crying so hard, they didn't want me to dehydrate.

The hospital administrator took the stage and indicated that my wife was placed at the top of the transplant list (after all she was the "First Lady") and as soon as a suitable donor was found they would operate. He also noted that since parts of this news conference was being televised; the hospital's switchboard was being swamped with calls by people volunteering some piece of their livers.

As the questions were winding down and news deadlines were approaching, a nurse pushing a wheel chair approached me saying, "She's awake and wants you with her."

The news conference was over, as I was being helped onto the chair, I asked everyone there to respect her privacy and not try to get into her room. They would only succeed in killing her.

I also promised to meet with them every day, so we could talk.

When I got back up to her room, she talked until she got too weak. We discussed the last 15 years and how much we had missed each other. I updated her on everything the kids did over those years.

I slept in a chair in her room. I was never going to let her leave me again.

We talked about our son, Tom Jr. I explained he and his wife were expecting number 6 at any time and could not be here, but would come out as soon as he could. He wanted to show her his family.

She asked me to open her bed side stand and take out the book I found there. It was her scrapbook of all the clippings she had saved. We went through the book. She asked be about every picture or article she had saved.

I explained them all to her, we both cried. This was the way she had kept up with her family over all the years.

It broke my heart.

"I guess she did really love us all the time she was gone," I thought

The nurse came in and put her to sleep, so she could keep her strength up. The nurse also told me that if I didn't stop all the crying, she'd be forced to hook me up to an IV to keep me hydrated.

She then smiled at me, patted my head and told me to get some rest. She would watch my wife for me.

I was awakened by a doctor who wanted to talk to me. He introduced himself as the Addictions specialist who was working with my wife. He then asked if I wanted to hear the story of her life.

He said it would be a long painful process, but he felt with her children and me standing beside her, she'd make it. But she needed a lot of help.

+++++++





The Candidate



Needless to say I was not impressed with the results. I couldn't understand what the other girls were bragging about. I thought it was nice, but no big deal and kind of messy.

It wasn't long before I discovered that the area between my legs was a guy's greatest fantasy. All I had to do was let him in once, and he was my slave forever, or at least until some other girl let him in her body.

I had discovered "Pussy Power" and I loved it.

I graduated with good enough grades to attend any Ivy League college I wanted. My parents wanted me to attend "an all girl's" school, but I fought that until they relented. So in the fall I started at a very expensive co-ed Ivy League school.

My roommate was as wild and crazy as I was; we started working our way through the male population at that school.

One rainy night when both my roommate and I were just a little high and very horny, I discovered she was "Bi".

It was then had my first real orgasm with her help.

I always enjoyed sex with men before. It felt good and I enjoyed the feelings I experienced. I loved the feeling when a man entering me, and the frenzied movement as we both tried to maximize the pleasure we were feeling.

But when he climaxed, I was always left with the feeling that there should be something more to this whole act.

Her talented fingers and tongue showed me that there was more, a lot more.

We continued to have sex with guys and each other. Sometimes I even achieved the "Big O" with guys. But with my roommate Cindy, I always achieved orgasms over and over until I begged her to stop so that I wouldn't die.

And after a little bit of recovery time, I would return the favor until it was her turn to beg me to stop.

I guess you could say we were perfect roommates. We didn't actually fall in love with each other, but we developed a very strong "like" for each other.

We continued this way until we were forced to separate.

In my junior year, Cindy went home early for the fall recess. Her dad had a heart attack and she was needed there. Her mother needed her support to get through this crisis. It turned out that it was a very serious heart attack, and Cindy transferred to a local college so she could be near home.

I missed her and the nights we spent together a lot.

One of the frat boys I knew (but had not slept with - yet) asked me to his fraternity's Halloween Party. It was full costume. I told him I had other plans and couldn't attend with him. But the idea of being able to hide my face and anonymously attend the party started developing in my mind. The more I thought about it the better the idea seemed.

You see I was always looked upon as a "good girl" and I couldn't really let my hair down and get wild. But by hiding my identity, I could be really bad.

So off I went to a costume rental place to pick out something "naughty". I found a stripper's outfit that fit my body shape perfectly and was really revealing. My next stop was to a store where I was able to buy hair color that washed out, and some other stuff to alter my facial features.

I went back to my dorm room and practiced changing my features and putting on "slut" make-up. After a few hours, I didn't recognize the blond who stared out of the mirror at me.

Once I used the hair dye, no one would recognize me.

My next step was to put on the costume and practice taking pieces off to determining what showed. I put on some music and started dancing and stripping in front of my mirror.

Well I got carried away and whipped the G-string bottom off. Oops, blond pubic hair, that had to go! My hair dye was brown and I couldn't be two toned. At first I thought I would just dye my pubic hair also, but I got thinking about rashes, or the dye just wearing off too soon. So I took a deep breath, grabbed a towel and my shower stuff (including a new razor) and headed off to the community showers on my floor.

The showers were empty, so I jumped in soaped up and started shaving before I changed my mind. It was easier than I thought, and before you could say "Jack Robinson" I was as bald as a new born baby and horny as hell.

I ran back to my room, jumped on my bed, and started trying to put every finger I had in myself. While I could only insert a couple, they did the job. My denuded crotch felt really great, and feeling it drove me to some of the best self induced orgasms I had ever had.

After recovering from these orgasms, I grabbed my hand mirror and inspected my handy work. I found that I had missed a few hairs both between my legs and near my back door. So I grabbed a water bottle from the small refrigerator we had in the room and wet a wash cloth.

Wow was that wash cloth cold!

I popped that sucker in my microwave and tried again. This time everything was at the right temperature and I was able to clean up the missed hairs. I put a little lotion on that area to help me avoid razor burn. I started rubbing some in, the next thing I knew those same two fingers were working their magic again.

After I recovered from a few more orgasms, I vowed to stop pleasuring myself before I couldn't walk any more. So I put the costume back on and started dancing again, this time I practiced for a couple of hours until I was dancing like a pro.

I was all ready for the party next Saturday night.

As the days before the party got closer, I discovered how great having no pubic hair actually felt. There was no buffer between my fancy silk underwear and my kitty. The rubbing drove me wild. I was so wet all the time that I stopped wearing and underwear just to stop the rubbing.

But now when I was walking about the campus or sitting in a classroom, I keep thinking what I had under my skirt, nothing.

I was a bitch in heat all week.

When the weekend finally arrived, I was so horny that I pleasured myself in the car, in public, when I was stopped at a railroad crossing for a train.

Little did I realize how symbolic that train was to become.

+++++

The night of the frat party finally arrived.

I had rented a motel room so I could dye my hair and get "dressed" without anyone I knew spotting me. I took a cab over to the frat house from the motel, so that I could leave my car hidden at the motel. I was taking no chance that I would be recognized.

When I got to the frat house, I put my mask on, paid the cab and walked up to the front door.

At the door was a guy whose job it was to make sure everybody had a costume on or they would not be granted access. I opened my coat as I approached him. His eyes never left my chest as he let me in.

I was going to like this party.

After a few drinks, many dances including one with the guy I had turned down to attend with. (He never recognized me, but in all fairness, his eyes never actually got up to my face either.)

Someone put that famous stripper song on the sound system. Well everybody opened up a space for me on the floor and started chanting, "Take it off".

By this time I had consumed a few more drinks than I usually do, so I said to myself, "Why not?'

I began moving to the music. To make a long story short, 15 minutes later I was dancing on a table wearing only my shoes. The crowd loved it. And to tell the truth, so did I. I was hot enough to start a fire.

I was in the middle of a back bend when I felt hands on my hips and a mouth between my legs. Whoever it was knew exactly where to lick. I reached an orgasm with a loud screech.

I looked down and saw a woman's head between my legs. She was still licking and I was still climaxing over and over again.

She was soon replaced and I felt the first guy enter me. He pounded away and soon had me climbing to orgasm again. I was so close when I felt him finish in me.

I screamed, "No! I'm almost there. Don't stop".

But he did and pulled out.

Suddenly I felt another guy entering me and over the top I went, again and again. I was in heaven. Sex had never felt so good for me.

I loved it.

They used me for the next 4 hours. I kept begged for more. At some point in the evening I felt someone entering my butt, another in my vagina, and a third in my mouth.

I think I climaxed the hardest that time, than I had ever before.

I was hooked. I loved "pulling a train."

Sometime late in the evening or early the next morning the party broke up. I guess that none of the guys had anything left below the belt and booked. As I lay there on the table, I realized that the girl that first started it all with me was slowly taking her clothes off. She got down on her knees between my legs and started to kiss my woman hood.

She lifted her head and said, "Let me kiss it and make it all better."

After a while she changed positions into the classic 69 and I returned the favor. We got done and started looking for my costume. I guess there must have been souvenir hunters because there was nothing of mine to be found. My new friend drove me back to the motel (me being completely nude!) and helped me gain access to my room.

The desk clerk loved my new outfit.

After my ride drove off, I drew a bath and soaked myself clean and washed the dye out of my hair. While soaking, I relived as much as the evening as I could remember.

I loved every minute of it, and I knew this would not be my last time.

I had a major change in my attitude. I now knew the meaning of "pulling a train" and I wanted to do another one again.

After sleeping all Sunday, I returned to my dorm room and promptly went back to bed skipping all my Monday classes.

By time Tuesday rolled around, I was trying to decide how I could be the star attraction at the next gang bang I attended. I started making plans to create another ID to use when I did attend the next orgy.

Over the next few months, I made friends with a couple of people in the costume and makeup departments at the college, from them I learned all the tricks to altering my appearance so even my own mother wouldn't recognize me.

At any college there are always banks trying to sign you up for credit cards. I used my forged college ID to obtain a few. Then using my fake college ID and the credit cards, I was able to parley them into a driver's license and social security card. I now had the alternate identity of Brandy Hill from California.

My dual life had now begun.

++++++

I finished my last year of college and returned home to start my life, my alternate ID safely established and ready to use.

My dad was a "died in the wool" Republican and soon had me attending functions with him. Before I knew it I was hooked by the power a Politian and anyone associated with him or her could wield.

I began looking for someone with that kind of power to hitch my star to.

Soon I found myself at a caucus meeting in an upstate county. I watched as the downstate leaders lectured the locals on what was to be expected of them. I noticed a man about my age acting as a gofer, making coffee and refilling waters.

He was quite attractive and I found myself becoming slightly aroused. But I also noticed that he was intently listening to everything being discussed, occasionally stopping to whisper in the ear of one or another local delegate. Shortly after the quiet conversation, the representative would ask a very intelligent question or make a deeply thought out statement.

It suddenly dawned on me that he was the real brains in the room, and I was attracted to him. It didn't hurt that he was cute also.

After a while one of the senior members of my group began speaking like an idiot, lecturing everyone in the room. I noticed the gofer was listening and a small smile crossed his face. I realized he also had filed the man speaking under "idiot. "

I found myself looking over at the gofer; whose name I later found out was Tom, flashed him a very quick but dazzling smile, and winked. He read my actions perfectly, and spilled the water he was pouring.

I knew I had to have him in my bed as soon as possible. It had been awhile and I was horny.

Sadly, the meeting abruptly ended and we were whisked to the airport to return to our homes downstate. I never got a chance to meet this man then, let alone have sex with him.

Little did I know, he was to become the most important figure in my life.

Time passed and I managed to make a few trips to the west coast to cement my alternate ID and become the center attraction at a few group sessions. It took the edge off my hormones.

I learned to control these sessions. No more did I just lay there and be used, I became an active participant controlling the action and enjoying it to the extreme.

I created my slut self and enjoyed her to the max.

+++++++

My father prevailed upon me one day to join an old friend for dinner at the friend's club. The reason was to access the connection between him and an upcoming party member.

Little did I know it was just a setup to introduce me to the up-and-comer I had seen at that meeting upstate a few years ago, and to see if something developed.

When I walked into the club, fashionably late as usual, I heard my name called and saw my father's friend standing and waving. As I approached the table, the dinner guest arose and turned toward me. It was that same handsome smiling face I had seen years ago at that upstate party meeting.

My silly heart skipped a beat, and I turned on the charm.

We had a wonderful dinner.

By the time the evening was over, I just knew I had to have this man as my own. No quickies with him, but if all turned out as I planned, a lifetime with him.

So I started a full court press on him. He never stood a chance.

About one year later we were married. I was so happy; little did I know that my Brandy personality would again surface.

It was about a year after we were married, when I started getting that "itch". My other self, Brandy, was starting to raise her slutty head again.

At first it was a dream during an afternoon nap while my husband was at the Capital. The next time, it was a pleasant memory while soaking in the tub one afternoon.

Then while I was "shaving" myself, I started remembering why I first shaved down there. I got so turned on I was on my back on the bathroom floor, with a long necked shampoo bottle, going at it like a crazy woman.

It was after that session I started making plans to get away for an extended week alone in California, and become "Brandy" again.

Over the previous years, before my marriage, I pulled the disappearing act with enough frequency that I rented a storage shed, bought a small car out there, and stashed all my Brandy clothes, and makeup, IDs, and credit cards. I'd pull up in a taxi, pay off the driver, let myself into the shed and immerged about an hour or so later as "Brandy the Slut".

And my adventures would then begin.

Over the years, I fucked motor cycle gangs, groups of guys on pool tables in sleazy bars, street gangs of various ethnic groups, and even some construction crews on job sites. Once I even jumped on a commercial fishing boat and was completely nude for four days.

My only requirement was there had to be at least 5 guys to keep me satisfied. I usually lined up the larger groups for earlier in the week so I had time to rest up and get my legs closed, to be able to walk again.

I was in heaven. I don't know how I managed not to get an STD or pregnant because protection was never used. I loved the feeling of a man ejaculating in me, "on" me, or it just running down my thighs.

I just couldn't get enough.

This would be my first trip since being married so I had to be a little choosier. I couldn't return home with bruises, bite marks or hickeys. I also had to eliminate the guys who were really hung. As much as I loved getting stretched out (both front and rear). I knew it would be really difficult to explain my size increases to my husband.

You see my husband was just a normal sized guy, not extra long or extra thick, just average. But what I liked best about his equipment was that when he got hard, he got hard! It was like a steel rod in me. And he really knew how to use it.

God he'd have me begging to stop after multiple orgasms. Someone should write a song about him, he's that good. But s good as he was, I still wanted to be the star attraction at gang bangs.

Just before the time for my "visit to a girlfriend's house on the west coast" I made sure I attacked him every morning before he left for work, at lunch if he came home (if not I snuck into his office and did him on his desk a couple of times), and of course once or twice at night before going to sleep.

I explained all this extra activity to him by saying,

"It's going to be a whole week before I can have you in me again and I don't want to forget what it feels like."

He bought it completely. "Brandy" thought, "Men are so easy to fool."

I felt a little regret at my planed actions, but "Brandy" ruled and I left anyway.

The week away went perfectly. My slut persona managed to participate in four group sessions before needing to rest up prior to heading home.

It was a very good trip. "Brandy" was satisfied and my "Mary" personality returned again as dominant and helped me remove my disguise and return to normal before starting back home.

When I got off the airplane, there was my loving husband waiting at the foot of the ramp instead of behind the TSA's barriers (being a state senator did have its perks). We met at almost a full run. I threw my arms around his neck, he lifted my feet off the floor, and we started kissing.

If it wasn't for some of my fellow passengers yelling, "Get a room", we might have done the deed right there on the floor.

We managed to make it home before we tore each other clothes off and didn't get out of bed for the next 24 hours. During one of our "rest" periods we were watching the national news and there we were, in living color, captured in our lip lock at the airport.

I guess someone took our picture. (What I thought were stars in my eyes from kissing him were in reality flash bulbs).

We were described as the, "Senator and his wife, still newlyweds after more than a year." I guess when Tom returned to the senate chambers, that picture was plastered all over.

He took a lot of ribbing for the next couple of weeks about that picture. We even made Letterman's Top Ten List, under, "How to greet a friend."

We were number three. (I still wonder how they got #1 and #2 past the censors. )

For the next month we were like rabbits. Some philosopher once said, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." Well I don't know where his heart was but mine had moved to between my legs.

We weren't careful and I found myself pregnant two months later.

The next time "Brandy" surfaced was a few years after our daughter Danielle was born. There was no denying the feelings; I needed another "road" trip. So I made the plans and disappeared for a week. This time Brandy ran into a porn producer, she spent the whole week making movies. She did guy on girl shots, group takes, girl on girl films.

She did everything but animals.

She loved it and they even paid her. (Little did they know she would have "worked" for free).

She learned years later that her disguise wasn't as perfect as she thought. That's what started the reporter on his search. He assumed that he was watching a look-a-like or a distant relative. He decided to use his spare time to check this out.

The reporter never found out her secret.

++++++

When both kids were older and in school, I began a campaign to have my husband elected to a higher office. Since he wasn't a lawyer, he really couldn't be a higher judge, so I set my sights on Governor. The current Governor was in the "other" party and he was getting too old to be effective.

Now, I knew my husband really had no political ambitions, so everything had to happen behind his back. I made sure that everything he did or said made the press. I sweet talked fellow Republicans, and did a little arm twisting when necessary. So it was no surprise to me that he was nominated to the gubernatorial ballot in November against the incumbent.




The Candidate



Tom was clueless as to how he got on the ballot. He even tried to withdraw his name. But once I threatened no sex for 6 months if he did, he promptly forgot all about quitting. My action reminded me of a T-shirt I once saw,

"She, who controls the Pussy, makes the rules." I guess that's been true for eons.

Tom's campaign dragged. He just didn't have the public recognition to gain in the poles. It looked as if he wasn't going to make it.

It was at this point that Tom's best friend and mentor, a retired Democrat, died and Tom was asked to present the Republican tribute to him on a TV special. Because he was a candidate for Governor he was slated to speak next to last, just before the incumbent Governor.

On the night of the tribute, everyone spent most of their allotted time knocking the Republicans and, indirectly, Tom. I could have cried, they were making him appear the fool. When Tom's turn came to speak, he walked on stage carrying his speech. That speech was written by the top speech writers, and approved by the party leaders. When Tom reached the podium, he carefully placed the speech down, yanked one of the microphones out of its holder, and walked to the edge of the stage and sat down with his feet hanging off the edge and started by introducing himself and said,

"John was my best friend. And I sure will miss him. I'm a Republican and he was a Democrat but we never let that get in the way of being friends".

Well the audience loved it. They applauded for at least a few minutes before allowing Tom to talk. He then talked about his friend with love and affection in his words and voice for about the next hour. Well he didn't actually talk for an hour; he spent a lot of that time waiting for the applause to stop so that he could continue speaking.

His eyes were bathed in tears.

He ended the eulogy by looking to the heavens and saying,

" John, when my time comes, I hope you will allow me to continue being your friend. And if they allow it up there, I'd like to continue our after dinner brandy and cigars".

He ended by saying, "I'm going to miss you a lot old friend".

At that point Tom lost it and started sobbing, I ran on stage and wrapped my arms around my husband and almost carried him off stage. I think I never felt more in love with him then at that moment.

The crowd took about another 10 minutes to settle down, before the Governor could begin his speech. The Governor's speech was a typical "Chicken in every Pot" with little dedicated to John life.

One month later my husband was elected Governor, while not exactly by a landslide, it was close.

++++++++

The sun is up and the curtains are leaking all that light in waking me. Only it's no longer Mary but my "Brandy" personality that had taken over and was in full flight mode.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and began my day. The only thing on my mind is getting to California and raiding my "Brandy" storage shed to complete my transformation. I know deep down that I can never return to my past life and family.   I pack a back pack with my meager possessions, and start walking to the bus station. I leave my "Mary" personality behind in that room. Never to be needed again.

+++++++

My "Brandy" persona has "starred" in many porn movies.

In between pictures, I work as a stripper/nude dancer in upscale clubs. It supplies the money for my booze, and my connection for my cocaine habit.

At some of the clubs or on various "shots", the subject of that "poor Governor" and his slut wife comes up; "Brandy" never joined these discussions, but listened closely. The general opinion is that the man is a hero, too good for any mortal woman, and if his slut wife is ever found, she should be "tarred and feathered", her tits cut off,(slowly), and her cunt sewed closed.

I guess you get the picture, women can really be cruel.

I silently agree with them. It all should be done to me. I deserved it.

I read everything the press prints about my former family. I even keep a small scrap book with clippings and pictures of them in it. Every time I open it, "Brandy" cries, usually ending in a deep depression. Her sleep on those nights will only arrive after I drink at least a quart of something alcoholic. I am not very selective in what I drink; the cheaper the better.

I only want to kill the pain.

I slowly lose weight and become useless for the porn movie circuit. (Too skinny and always high) I start my downward spiral from upscale gentlemen's clubs to the lower class beer joins and dives where the dancers not only strip, but act as prostitutes between turns on stage.

"Brandy" has aged. It is a hard life that I have been living. I am now in my 40's and not looking very good anymore. My only saving grace was a boob job I got when I was riding high. My "Brandy" self is now the proud owner of a pair of "EE's". They keep me getting work, both on stage and in the "back rooms."

It was in one of these bars, we find "Brandy" dancing. I was just finishing my turn on stage and wearing only my "F" me heels. I haven't been feeling too well the last few of weeks. I have stopped drinking; only doing the $20.00 "drinks" served when a customer buys. And we all know there isn't enough alcohol in those drinks to count.

I have also reduced my coke usage to just a "maintenance" level, using only enough to prevent withdrawal.

I just feel weak and tired all the time.

I am doing a back bend showing the customers everything that makes me a woman as the music ends. I struggle back up. But instead of stopping when I'm' upright, I continue forward off the front of the stage and into the stage front audience, almost blacking out.

A bouncer, thinking I'm wasted, runs over to drag me out the door, planning to take me outside and slap the shit out of me for being screwed up again. But it seems that this is my lucky night, the customer, whose table I landed on, is actually an undercover police officer. He takes one look at my yellow skin color and my eyes, starts dialing 911, and flashes the bouncer his badge.

The bouncer turns around and volunteers to stand at the door and watch for the ambulance.

At the hospital, the emergency room doctor takes one look at me and realizes I'm in real trouble.

Epilog: Tom's Story

My political opponents had a field day. They held all sorts of news conferences. They called her, "The First Whore, The President's Personal Porn star. " They only stopped when the polls showed they were doing themselves more harm than me.

The public was still on my side.

They switched tactics. They tried attacking me for having her moved to the top of the transplant list. That backfired on them also. It seems she was the only person on the transplant list who could use the donor's liver. No other person, who needed a liver, was a match.

The public raised an outcry against these politicians. My political advisors felt that those complaining Politian's would not win reelection.

On the day of her transplant operation, the street outside the hospital was so plugged with well wishers that the police shut down all traffic on that road.

It was a long operation; I guess they were taking no chances with her health. I was so nervous that I was just wandering around the hospital trying to take my mind off what was happening.

I found myself standing inside the front doors of the hospital looking out at a sea of humanity in front of the building.

Before the Secret Service could stop me, I was out the doors and in the crowd.

Someone handed me a megaphone and I explained that the operation was still in progress and they had told me that everything was looking good, but I was still scared for her.

A big black guy walked up to me and hugged me.

"We're here to support you bro'. You're the man." At that he started yelling the Lord's Prayer. It was soon picked up by the crowd and everyone was reciting those verses.

While we were saying the prayer, a nurse in scrubs came running out the door. She was crying. I looked at her and she shook her head "No."

I felt a terrible pain in my chest and the world went black.

+++++++

It was one year later; I am sitting in my wheelchair talking to my wife. Well actually, I was talking to her headstone. When the weather is nice my driver and nurse would bring me out to her grave side so I could visit her.

God, I missed her. We were so close to being together again, when the operation to replace her liver failed. You know the old saying, "The Operation was a Success, but the patient Died."

I had felt that we could work out all our/her problems together with the help of a good counselor. People may hate her for all she had done to me, but I still loved her.

I almost joined her the day she died, but I guess having a heart attack in the parking lot of a hospital was not the best place, if I wanted to join her.

But today is different. I have been having chest pains for two days and they were getting worse with every breath.

I wish I had said goodbye to my children, but they would have put me back in the hospital.

All I want to be was with the love of my life.

I turned my head and looked at my nurse and the driver. They were talking and paying no attention to me. My eyesight is getting fainter. I thought I can see her beautiful blue eyes watching for me.

The pain started to fade away. Maybe now I would be able to ask her, "Why?"

The End



The Candidate's Wife



ONE

He was alone in the service elevator as it made its way to the top floor, his portable massage table piled high with towels. He had already passed through two security checks points but was not suprised to find additional secret service personnel in the hallway when the doors opened. He patiently waited for his security credentials to be checked, having been through this numerous times previously when the candidate's wife was in town. 

At age 26, he stood 6'2" and was solidly built at 220 pounds and could have been seen as an imposing figure if not for the fact he was pushing a massage table and dressed in a track suit with his business name printed on the back. Very skilled at his trade, his growing list of clients included numerous celebrities who always called him when they were in city.

He was escorted into the presidential suite and saw the candidate's wife talking with several members of her staff. Although in her mid-fifties, she was a striking woman who looked even more beautiful in person than she did on TV. Her long blonde hair was nearly white and hung past her shoulders, her trim figure was wonderfully draped by a soft, yellow designer dress. She had the high cheekbones of a fashion model,her facial features somewhat Nordic in nature, and her make-up, he knew would have been professionally done.

When she noticed that he had entered the room, he thought he saw a brief spark in her cool blue eyes and a smile tug at the corners of her thin lips, before returning her attention to her staff. As he got his table prepped, he noticed that she steered her staff to a quick conclusion of their business, thanked them for their efforts and moved them towards the door. She gave her personal assistant instructions that she shouldn't be disturbed for the next few hours then turned towards him, exhaling loudly, her shoulders relaxing.

"I've been looking forward to this all day. So nice to see you again! You can finish setting up . . . I'll be just a minute." she advised before striding out of the front room, her calves flexing above her high heels.

A few moments later, she returned wearing a plush, cotton robe belted across her slim waist. Barefoot, her toenails had been recently done in blood red. Her hair had been pulled up into a small towel and it appeared that she had applied a hint of soft, red shiny gloss to her lips.

She stood very close to the young masseur, smiling up into his face, before turning her back and untying the sash. She pushed the robe off her shoulders and allowed it to pool at her feet. Now naked, she climbed face down on the massage table as the young man placed a towel over her still beautifully tight ass, the tan lines of what must have been a very tiny two piece erotically on display.

He poured a small amount of warm, scented oil over her lithe back, and with a firm practiced hand started in on her. His eyes were drawn to where her breasts flattened against the table in a manner he always found so inviting.

His efforts quickly elicited moans of pleasure to spill from his client's mouth.

"Oooooh . . . Oh my God! That feels so wonderful!! Aaaahhh . . . You know right where to go . . . Don't you?" she sighed as he worked the tension from her upper back before moving towards her neck.

Later, she turned her head to the side and laid the side of her face on her crossed arms. "Did you see any of the convention?" she asked, her eyes closed, clearly enjoying his work.

"Sure I did." he replied, now using the heel of his hand and pushing long strokes down the side of her oil-soaked back.

"How did I look?" she asked in an intimate tone.

"I liked your hair down, but I wasn't crazy about the wave you had in it. I like it better when you wear it straightened. You look better in black." he added matter-of-factly as he started on her shoulders.

She laughed, not at all suprised by his blunt assessment. " I know what YOU like." she told him in a playful voice before abruptly turning over on her back, the towel falling away, her full, firm breasts tantalizingly exposed.

"My question was" she purred "How do you think I looked to the rest of the country . . . specifically the people I'm not sleeping with?!!"

He laughed along with her as he lowered his lips towards hers, kissing her softly, their tongues gently sliding over one another.

"In that case . . . " he kissed her again "You looked incredible!"

He kissed her more deeply this time, her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, her breasts pressed deliciously against his thick chest. His hand, still covered in oil, slid lightly up one slender thigh attracted to the heat he felt coming from between her legs. His fingers brushed her closely trimmed bush and he gently spread her pussy lips, one finger sliding into her warm, wet tunnel.

He worked the front of her pussy wall, finding the thick pad of her G-spot and rubbed it vigorously, her hips beginning to squirm on the table as she moaned softly into his mouth.

With a low, long groan, she pushed him away and swung her legs off the side of the table. With a last quick kiss, she got up on her feet, panting with lust and told him " Get your clothes off! Don't keep me waiting, Darling!!" before padding towards the bedroom, his eyes glued to her lovely, naked body as she walked away.

TWO

She was sitting up against the headboard when he came into the bedroom, her hair now down over her shoulders. She felt her heart beat in her chest as she drank in his thick shoulders and chest which tapered to a lean waist. The thick hose of his cock hung between his muscled thighs, a knowing smile spread across his luscious lips, his deep blue eyes sparkling under his blonde, shoulder length hair.

As he walked slowly towards the side of the bed, she got on all fours facing him, the tiny tip of her tongue visible as it ran along the length of her wetly shining lips. Smiling seductively, she beckoned him with the crook of a french-manicured finger.

"Get over here, Baby! I want to taste your cock!!!"

His cock had begun to stir as she reached for it, bringing it lovingly to her lips. She wetly kissed its plum-sized head, her tongue snaking out to probe its sensitive underside. Turning her head, she lifted his nearly erect cock and softly nibbled the front of it, one hand cupping his heavy ball sack. 

When she dropped her jaw and slid his cock past her hungry lips, he pushed her hair back from her face so he could watch her, his eyes drawn to the large diamonds in her wedding bands as she slowly stroked his shaft.

She moaned as she blew him, her cheeks hollowed with effort, one hand now twisting his long, thick shaft as if she was driving a motorcycle. She had become a world-class cocksucker in their time together, and when she looked up at him from her knees, she was pleased to find his head thrown back, eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open in a show of pleasure.

She pulled her lips away with a loud pop and lifted his now straining member upward, licking and kissing her way down its impressive length. She flicked her tongue across the smooth skin of his tight ball sack before sucking one of his heavy nuts into her hungry mouth.

She continued to stroke him as she sucked his balls, the vibrations from her moans sending electric bolts of pleasure coursing through her young lover's thickly muscled body.

After several incredible minutes, she licked slowly up his thick shaft and took his cock back into her mouth, her head bobbing rapidly.

"MMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmfffffff! MMMMMmmmmmmmfff!!" she slobbered as she sucked on his cock, before taking him down into her throat.

She pulled away, sucking wetly at the saliva that had built up in her mouth and admired her handiwork, a pleased smile on her sexy face before she laid back on the bed, her slender legs swinging over the side. She reached down between her legs and spread her pussy lips apart with two fingers, her desire apparent.

He quickly knelt between her outstretched legs and gently licked the inside of a taut thigh, causing her body to shudder in anticipation. He covered her smooth skin with soft kisses as he made his way towards her pussy, briefly nuzzling its warm, wetness before starting down her other leg.

She laughed when she realized that he was teasing her, his lips now working the sensitive area behind her knee. When his head came forward again, she felt that she was going to scream with pent-up lust.  His mouth finally settled against her pussy and she inhaled sharply, her back arching off the bed. When he started to gently suck her clit, her hands reached to the back of his head, pulling him hard against her.

Using his thumbs, he gently spread her pussy lips to the side and thrust his tongue deep into her tunnel, licking the smooth walls, twisting his tongue as did.

He felt her thighs tighten against the sides of his head, as she rolled her hips hard against his face in a circular fashion, her breathing now ragged, her head thrashing on the bed.

Keeping her pussy spread, he blew softly on her swollen clit, before running his tongue lightly along its sides. Sliding one finger inside her now soaked pussy, he worked her from the inside as he flicked his tongue over her clit, before sucking it completely into his mouth. At this, she began to writhe uncontrollably on the bed.

"AAAAAaaaaahhhh . . . Shit, Baby!! So good! So . . . so . . . good!!!"

He sucked wetly at her pussy juices before kissing slowly up her tight, toned and tan body, his tongue flicking briefly into her navel causing her to jerk suddenly then giggle.

He pushed her breasts together with his big hands, her stiff nipples distended. He kissed the bottom of her breast where it began to rise from her rib cage, knowing how sensitive she was there. Running his tongue around her dark, brown aureola, he flicked his tongue across her nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

Continuing his trek, he nuzzled her lithe neck, softly kissing its gentle curve, before she pulled him eagerly to her wetly shining lips, her mouth open, tongue searching for his.

She cradled the sides of his face as they kissed, she felt the thick head of his cock rubbing against her. She spread her legs slightly and his cock pushed easily through her swollen pussy lips, stretching her to the brink, filling her with ectasy.

He slowly withdrew his long, thick cock until just its head remained encased in her warm, wet tunnel. Then, he slowly entered her again, only pushing in a few inches before pulling out causing the nerve endings around her pussy slit to sing in excitement. He repeated this over and over again, then thrust his entire cock deep into her for several hard, fast strokes before returning to giving her the slow, shallow probes that soon had her tight, little ass sqirming beneath him.

"OOOOOoooohhh God!!! You feel so good!! Nobody fucks me like you do, Baby!! . . . Fuck me ,Baby!!! . . . Fuck ME!!!!!!!"

He began to thrust his fat cock deeper and faster into the candidate's wife, his body wetly smacking against her as she eagerly rolled her hips in rhythm with his thrusts. She pulled away from his luscious lips and slid her arms under his, grabbing the thick muscles of his shoulders pulling him hard against her as she felt the first waves of her orgasm begin to course through her body. She wrapped her long slender legs around her young lover and squeezed him hard as it hit her like a bolt of lightning. 

"OOOOOooooooohhhhh FFFFFUUUUUCCCKKK!!!" she screamed as her body writhed beneath his, her breasts pressed deliciously against his deep, smooth, chest.

"FFUUUCCCKKK MMMEEEEE!!!" she continued, her eyes squeezed shut, her legs quivering as she came.

After several incredible moments had passed, her legs relaxed and then fell from atop his young, hard body, her chest still rapidly rising and falling as the last few waves of her orgasm washed over her.

When she caught her breath, she pulled his lips back to hers, her tongue probing his mouth. She felt his cock stiffen inside of her and knew that he was close. He raised up on his arms and began to thrust harder against her, each deep thrust pulling her swollen clit inward.

"That's it, Baby!! . . . That's it!! Fuck me! I want to feel your hot cum!! I love feeling your big cock inside my wet pussy!!" she whispered, her hand now grabbing the thick muscles behind his arms.

He could feel her pussy muscles gripping his thick shaft as she wriggled under him, urging him to cum, begging for his seed.

With a short shout, his first jet of jism rocketed into her married pussy, splashing against her womb, several strong jets followed filling her full of his hot, sticky jizz.

As he continued to grunt and anxiously thrust into her, she rolled her hips against him trying to draw every ounce of cum out of him that she could, a pleased smile on her sexy face.

Reaching up, she pulled his face to hers and they kissed softly, their lips smacking, her tongue darting into his mouth,his cock still buried to the hilt in her warm glove.

When he rolled off her, she laid her head on his thick chest listening to the sound of his beating heart. She kissed one of his nipples before taking it briefly into her mouth, then laid quietly on top of him, one leg splayed across him. 

Later, she raised her head and looked lovingly into his deep, blue eyes. She put a finger gently on his lower lip and smiled at her young lover.

"You know" she said with a mischievous glint in her eye "If we can get the polls to turn around in a few states, you might be fucking the first lady!!"

A deep laugh rumbled from his chest as he pulled her to him, kissing her hard on the lips.

"Does that mean I can charge you more?" he asked playfully.

She shrieked with laughter, her hand sliding down his flat stomach between his legs where she firmly squeezed his fat package.

"All right . . . All right!" he laughed, relieved that she had stopped squeezing him and started to gently stroke his thick shaft.

As he rolled her over on her back, he told her "This one is on the house!" 

THREE 

The candidate's wife slipped into a short, silk white robe and tied the belt around her waist as she watched her young lover collect his clothes. She pulled a pack of Virginia Slims Menthol 120s out of her purse and lit one, lifting her chin and exhaling a thin stream up into the air.

Once he was dressed, she stepped into his arms, raising her face expectantly, her lips parted. He kissed her softly and tasted the tang of her breath, squeezing her ass playfully as their tongues danced.

"I forgot to ask. What did you think of my husband's choice as a running mate?" she asked, taking a seat in a large chair, one elbow propped on the arm, her legs crossed sexily as she watched him gather up his towels.

"Interesting to say the least. She did pretty well in the debate, but Biden is such a dick." he answered.

She smiled at his response. "She's going to be in for a rough couple of weeks, I'm afraid. But I did give her your card. You make sure to take good care of her when she calls."

He looked at her, his brow wrinkled. "When?" he asked not sure if he heard her correctly and what the implications may be.

She took a long,deep drag from her cigarette and exhaled, a thin smile forming on lips.

"When." she answered back. The look on her beautiful face clearly communicating what was to be expected of the young masseur.

He smiled back and shrugged his shoulders, extending his palms in front of him.

"Hey . . . I'm here to serve!" he told the candidate's wife with a sexy wink.