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Political Asylum
by William S. Dean © 2007

Politically ErectEmerson took out his two and a half inches and stuck it in the slot.  He felt as well as saw the end light up and then keyed in the download sequence.  He grinned because every time it felt the same, like he was shooting a hot load into an even hotter receiver.  When the data stick had completed dumping the day's sound captures, he toggled the files to a playback program and set the auto-timer for 30 minutes later.  Shuffling clothes to the floor like a rabid Vegas dealer, he padded barefoot to the shower, his cock already bobbing upward at the thought of the soon-to-be arriving guest.  Getting lucky with sex had never been so easy since he thought up The Plan.  And nothing got his fuck buddy Andrea hotter than daily fresh porn from the White House.

He just managed not to jerk off in the shower.  Save it, he told himself, like every other night of the past week.  Save it for the big show.  Damn, but Andrea just loved to watch it spurt and erupt all over her face, her breasts, on her belly.  She never let him come inside her.  She never swallowed, but what the hell.  It wasn't like he was anxious to make any babies and these days lots of women didn't swallow.  Signs of the times, bro, he told himself.  As the water splashed down, he couldn't help flexing his impressive biceps and slapping a palm against his rock hard abs.  Marine hard, he thought with a laugh, and an additional slap at his throbbing cock.   And marine ready.

A few minutes later, he tossed on his camouflage boxers and a crisp white shirt left unbuttoned.  Checking the clock, he snatched up the opened bottle of tequila and sluiced a shot glass full.  It burned down his throat, making him shake his head.  The motion made the glass on a framed photograph flare and he peered at the picture for a second.  The image never failed to make him stand straighter, at attention, chest out, shoulders back.  It was a photo of his first day on duty at the House, standing rock steady as POTUS himself passed by in the hallway.  Awesome.  I'm guarding the Prez.  Ain't that the shit, he thought.

The door buzzer announced Andrea.  She walked in with nothing but a half-buzz on under her short black dress, stockings, and high heels.  Emerson licked his lips and kissed her, pulling her close and tight.

"Whoo, baby," she said, her lips barely touching his ear.  "I'm already three glasses of champagne ahead of you."  She giggled.  "And a couple puffs of happy weed."

"I got something else for you to smoke, honey."  Emerson ground his erection against her belly.

"Mmmmm," she groaned, dancing backward with a shimmy.  She cocked her head.  "Nothing but silence?"

At that moment the computer's sound program activated and they listened.  The two voices that filled the room sounded familiar from recent television sound bites.

"Well, I'd fuck him, but I wouldn't vote for him."

"Don't want to get screwed twice by the same dick?"

"I wasn't asleep when they passed out the brain some people I could mention around here."

"Present company accepted, of course."

"Of course.  On the other hand, cute doesn't require brains."

"Don't forget corrupt."

"Exactly, cute and corrupt is my favorite hobby."

"Collect the whole set, huh?"

"It's not easy when it's an unlimited edition."

"Tell me about it.  I used to think there were only seven dwarves, too."

"Sleepy, Dopey, and Grumpy are all on the same committee."

"Whatever happened to Happy?"

"He got beat in the election by Sleazy years ago."

"Oh, yeah.  How slime fries..."

"...when you're having fun.  Ha ha ha."

"Ha ha ha."

"Well, I'd better go deliver the bad news.  Does this Congressman's dick make my ass look fat?"

"Honey, if they could legislate bigger dicks, don't you think they'd have done it a long time ago?"

"Yeah, you're right.  Oh, the things we do just to keep shopping."

"That reminds me, did you see who's wearing alligator pumps this morning?"

"I know!  If it wasn't for endangered species, some people wouldn't get any pumping at all."

"Too cute.  See you for cocktails later?"

"Sure.  If you bring the cocks..."

"...the tails will follow.  Ciao."

Emerson laughed loudly falling back on the small couch and pulling Andrea across his lap.

"Too funny.  That was who I think it was, right?"

Emerson nodded his head as he nuzzled between her breasts, his fingers urging the straps of her dress down.

"It gets better, right?  Tell me it does."  She threw her head back and thrust her breasts against his face.

"Uh huh."

Now two different voices drifted from the computer's small speakers:

"You know I could smooth a few paths for you.  Make things go easier."

"If I what...go along to get along?"

"Would you like to get a long one?  A nice hard, thick, long one...between your legs?"

"Are you always this crude or did you practice in your mirror this morning?"

"Have it your own way then.  But I'm warning you, politics makes some very nasty enemies."

"I know...and most of them were nasty long before they got into politics.  There's a reason people call this place a swamp.  And it has nothing to do with geography."

"If the gators and snakes don't get you, the quicksand might."

"I'm more concerned about the long term effects."

"What?  Absolute power corrupting absolutely?"

"No, the infection of fungus and moss."


"Wait, wait!"  Andrea held Emerson's lowering head between her hands.  "Did he just call a Presidential candidate a bitch?"

Emerson grunted a response, his hands pushed her dress higher.   His lips and tongue trailed up the length of her stocking, and then began teasingly licking beyond.  Andrea lay back and sprawled her legs wider, feeling his mouth trickle light kisses along the already moist lips of her pussy.  She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer when she felt his lips cup around her clit and start sucking gently, his tongue tracing a wet infinity sign repeatedly over the very tip.

"Oh, fuck!"

After a short silence, two more voices came from the speakers:

"It's not a question of whether or not we're fucked, it's a question of just how hard and whether we want to keep the baby or not."

"Abortion is not an option.  That's policy."

"Yeah?  Well, policy can kiss my ass on this one.  The bastard fucked us, but that doesn't mean we have to come full term with the bastard's bastard.  Does it?"

"I already have a signed letter of resignation in my desk drawer if it comes to that."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you little twerp.  Everybody's got a goddamned signed letter of resignation in their desk drawer.  It's standard as soon as you take office."


"Yeah, 'Oh'.  Like you're the first idiot to think of it.  This is Washington, nitwit.  If you didn't think you were playing with lions and tigers and bears, you should have stayed out of Oz."

"So...what do we do then?"

"We do what every other politician in The Capitol has done for centuries.  We show the people the man hiding behind the curtain isn't a fucking wizard after all."

"Oh, shit.  Poor Dorothy."

"Fuck Dorothy.  And the dog she rode in on."

Andrea let Emerson bring her to climax and then gave him a desultory four minute blowjob, wiping her mouth with a tissue plucked from her purse.

"Well, fun as always," she said, smoothing her dress down over her legs as she stood.  "You are a good boy, and you do have the hottest sex gossip in town."  She looked at his crumpled boxers around his ankles.  "Oh, just a word of advice.  Don't play those for anyone else."

"What?" Emerson mumbled, trying to untangle his legs from his shorts.

"There'll be nowhere you can run to far enough or fast enough if you do.  See ya, marine."

Emerson stared at the door closing behind her with a lopsided smile and a niggling suspicion working its way from one synapse to another.

In less than a hour, Andrea was back in the office.  It was contemptible, yet intoxicating.  Just the realization that she was naked, on her hands and knees, on the same desktop where Presidents had signed important laws into effect made her feel giddy and girlish.  She grunted as the seemingly huge dildo thrust into her from behind.

"That's it, baby.  Harder!  Show me how you like it," Andrea said hoarsely.

She turned her head and burned her gaze into the half-lidded eyes of the most powerful Senator in the country.  Sweat beads trickled down the Senator's face, her lipstick was smudged, matted wig awry, full breasts swinging with every stab of the strap-on.

"Who's your daddy now, bitch?' the Senator grunted between her teeth.  "Tell me.  Beg me to fuck you, slut."

"Fuck me," she whispered.  "Fuck your little slut good, daddy."  Andrea turned her head back around and let it fall limply forward.  "I'm going to be there someday," she told herself.  "I'm going to be some slut's daddy."  She wondered—just for a moment before she felt her orgasm building—if she could smuggle a cell phone with a camera into their next meeting.  The photos would be worth a fortune...or a future.

"Come for me, you little whore!" the Senator growled.  "Give it up.  Oh, fuck!"

As they snuggled later, Andrea toyed her forefinger along the Senator's belly.  "Oh, there is just one favor you could do for me," she whispered.  'There's this guy I know works here..."

© 2007 William S. Dean. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

Bio: Who is William S. Dean? Read his bio on the Erotica Readers & Writers Association website.

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