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Kissing Kennedy
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Kissing Kennedy
By Madeline Aubrey
Copyright © 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Model photograph used in cover design - © gromovataya / Dollar Photo Club
Marilyn would be very jealous. Her golden blonde locks, her 36-24-36 dimensions--Playboy style with all the soft white skin needed to give any man a hard on--were nothing compared to my deep blue eyes. John once told me he'd throw her out the window if I came through the door while she was there--clothed or not. If only she knew.
It wasn't that I didn't respect her. She was a beauty, after all. And charming--oh so charming. But regardless of how I felt about her, what I wanted most in the world was to be the President's best kept secret. His Kryptonite. To be fucked by the most powerful man in the world and leave him wanting more every time. And she stood in the way of that.
Jackie was easy to dispose of. She was smart, but all too consumed by her obsession with fixing up the White House. And when she wasn't doing that, she was sipping cocktails at whatever hot social event she could. A perfect First Lady, but not very aware of her husband or his hidden desires. This made me envious of her really. To have a man as powerful as John, and not give a shit. That was sexy enough in itself. If I was gay, I'd have gone for her instead.
But, well, I love dicks. The body part and the personality type. And the powerful ones are the best. I've had the sweetest boys try their best to warm me up and fail. But the dick with a big bank account and a say in what goes on around here, sweet Jesus I'm dripping. And the president was top of the line as far as I'm concerned. The head honcho of this whole shebang. I could cum in less than a minute just thinking about him.
That's why, when he asked me to lunch the first time, I canceled all my plans that day and bought an expensive new skirt just for the occasion. I wore my favorite low cut top and the type of heels you could stab a bitch with. My lipstick was a deep red, my perfume was subtle, and my earrings were top notch. I had my favorite lingerie on underneath, in case he wanted to take a peek while riding inside his Lincoln later on. Of course, I'd never let him get any farther than that on the first date. Have to keep them drooling at all times, don't we?
The setting was perfect--he'd chosen well. A five-star restaurant named Delia's on the outskirts of town, with a side entrance reserved just for him. I wasn't the first girl he'd taken here, but I didn't mind. I would be his favorite, and that's what mattered.
We met there around 1. He didn't pick me up of course, because that would risk getting us caught. I was his secret, not his Jackie. He wore a pastel blue suit with a wool coat. It must have been the nicest suit I'd seen in years. I wondered if he dressed so nice always, or if this one was for me. The way he stammered when he talked to me, staring directly into my eyes like he was hypnotized, made me believe it was.
He ordered for us. Mussels with linguine and an expensive Sauvignon Blanc to pair. It was delicious, and I ate it all. Halfway through the meal he knocked over his wine glass while raising his hand to call the waiter for more.
"Shit," he said, sliding his chair back and standing up. "I'm sawry dear. President or not, I'm still a klutz."
"It's quite alright. These things happen all the time," I said in a soft, motherly voice. "Besides, my glass is still quite full." I laughed and took a sip. He smiled.
"As long as you're happy," he said, calling the waiter over to clean the mess and pour him a new glass.
"Oh I am... quite."
Once the waiter had wiped the table and opened a new bottle, John took my hand in his. "Ah-drey,"--he always said my name with that thick Boston accent--"I'd be lying if I said this hasn't been a wonderful lunch." I massaged his palm with my thumb and bit my lip, staring right at him.
"I certainly agree, John. And I think we should do it again sometime, for sure."
"No reason to end it hear Ah-drey," he said, standing up. "How about a ride in the Lincoln? It's a beautiful cah."
How could I resist? It was just what I had wanted really. Those tinted windows and leather seats. The thick doors and bulletproof glass. The thought of such a privilege was enough to turn me on considerably.
"I suppose a quick ride couldn't hurt. Could you drop me off by the old brick bank on 5th Street?"
"Of course dahling."
He downed the rest of the wine in his glass and we left the restaurant. He didn't pay then, of course. That would be handled another time, certainly generously, and by someone else most likely. The president never, ever had to open his own wallet.
A broad shouldered Secret Service agent opened the door for me. Inside, the "cah" was beautiful, just as I'd imagined.
"John, this is fantastic," I said, running my hand along the leather seats and chrome siding. I stretched out my legs and leaned back. "Ah, this is the life." I giggled and turned towards John with my legs crossed, head up against the leather, and a finger twirling my hair.
"You get used to it," he said, nonplussed. "Ride after ride and eventually you wish for something--anything--else. Hell, I'd take a beat down ol' Buick at this point, just for a change."
I put my hand on his thigh and squeezed lightly. "I suppose we could all use a change now and then. Something more exciting. A new flavor to offset how tired we get of the same...old...thing." I squeezed harder with each word and let go on the last one, giggling. I could tell this made him hard. His cock was showing right through his slacks and a bead of sweat had collected on his forehead. I wanted to rip his pants off right there and then, but knew I couldn't. I wouldn't give him anything until he begged me for it.
"I think...I think you're absolutely right dahling." He put his hand on my shoulder and scooched over. I let the sleeve of my top slide down to reveal my lace bra strap, which he focused on like a laser.
"Oops," I said, pulling the sleeve back up and straightening out my skirt. "This'll do driver!" I waved my hand at the glass in front of me, which I assumed he saw, because the Lincoln stopped abruptly there. "John, we'll have to continue this again soon." I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and opened the door, turning back to him before exiting just to say, "And thank you very much for lunch. It was,"--I licked my lips--"delicious."
I held a wide smile for a good five blocks, until finally deciding to hail a cab and head home. I couldn't help but play with myself beneath my skirt during the ride. I didn't care if the driver noticed--which I'm sure he did. I was squirming enough. But I couldn't help myself. I had to cum. And knowing the driver could hear me moan actually made things a bit hotter. I even opened my legs to him at one point, right before I came. It was no substitute for being royally fucked in the Oval Office, but it allowed me to cool down until that could happen.
I gave the cabby a ten and he winked at me before driving away. Happy with my tip, I guess.
It was only three hours before he called.
"Ahdrey? This is John."
"Well, hello there Mr. President. Miss me that bad already?"
"Actually, yes dahling." I had him right where I wanted him.
"I've been thinking about what you said--about needing something new in our lives." He paused as I held the phone tight against my ear. "And frankly I've been excited since you stepped out of the cah earlier."
"Patience is a virtue, Mr.President. Even for a bad boy like you," I said before hanging up. I didn't want to be his flavor of the week. I wanted to be the flavor he drooled over in his sleep. The taste in his mouth he couldn't get rid of, no matter what. And this was how I'd do it.
I knew he'd stroke his cock later that night thinking of me. Alone in his office chair, while Jackie was at some gala. Pants down at his ankles, door locked. His head would be tilted back and in his mind's eye I'd be there, licking my lips. He'd cum all over his stomach and chest and just sit there for a minute, pulsing with the thought of me still strong as ever in his brain. I got off again just thinking about it. How badly I wanted to taste him...
A week went by without any word. The president was in Switzerland, heading important foreign affairs talks about Cuba and communism and how it might all end the world any minute now. Surely he was finding a Swiss blonde or two to satisfy his urges while there. But I knew it was me he'd be thinking of the whole time. Even while pounding his cock into another.
On Saturday I saw his plane touch down on the evening news, and within the hour I received a call.
"A cah will be at your place by 9 to take you to the White House. I can't wait any longer. See you then." He hung up and I shook my ass and did a little twirl before hanging up myself. Finally, he was demanding I see him. It made me so slick I had to spend a minute with my vibrator before showering and getting dressed. And even that didn't relieve me much. Only he could, at this point.
I wore the red skirt and low cut top again--I knew he liked it. But this time, nothing underneath. It was risky, but his reaction would be worth it. My nipples protruded, hard as diamonds, and I could tell by the look on the driver's face that it was very noticeable. Good, I thought.
The ride through D.C was spectacular. The lights illuminating each landmark shone against the car windows like a light show made just for me. I was being escorted through the nation's capital, to the home of the fucking president, to sit on his cock and make his head spin. It felt like destiny. And whatever happened after this night didn't matter. It was my pinnacle. The high point I'd worked so hard for and dreamed of endlessly.
His guards escorted me through the White House garage to his private staircase and let me go from there. I was worried I'd see Jackie, or be caught by a nosy maid, or bump into anyone that knew I shouldn't be there. But he had made sure that wouldn't happen. The coast was clear. The hallway was empty and at the end of it was the oval office, open and waiting, with him inside.
I closed the doors and walked in, standing in front of his desk while he reclined, legs up, with a cigarette in his mouth.
"You look great," he said, blowing out smoke. He seemed more confident than before. Maybe the week of political negotiations had charged him.
"You too, John," I said, moving to the side of the desk and sitting on the edge of it, facing him. His eyes caught a glimpse of my pussy before I was able to cross my legs. Perfect.
"I thought about you all week. It's been hell having to wait," he said, putting out the cigarette. He had a white button down shirt on, with a striped black tie and slacks. His suit hung over the back of the chair and his hat laid on the desk. His teeth were perfect and his cheeks were cleanly shaved. He was the definition of a pretty boy. But with the presidential seat beneath him, he appeared to me like the most desirable man on the planet. Wealthier than I could even imagine. More powerful than his demeanor ever gave away.
I rubbed my foot along his calf and played with my hair.
"Have you anything to drink, Mr. President?" He got up and grabbed an open bottle of Chardonnay from a bucket of ice behind him, pouring each of us a glass before sitting back down. He handed one to me.
"Will this do, dahling?" I took a sip.
"Yes, this will do."
I knew it was time to act. I opened my legs, letting him catch another glimpse of my neatly shaven slit before standing up and straddling him. He was hard as a rock already, with a dick longer than I was used to, but not any thicker than usual. It'd be perfect for anal, if it came to that. I took another sip of wine before setting my glass and his down on the desk and pulling him up to my face by the tie. I waited a few seconds with our lips barely an inch away from touching, breath mixing together in a sweet mixture of pure desire, before kissing him hard. I didn't wait to stick my tongue in his mouth. My lips were luscious and wet, both pairs, and I used them to envelope his. I ran my fingers through his perfect hair and rubbed my ass on his cock, still hard as rock inside his slacks.
John wasn't new at this--at all. He knew how to kiss, and he knew when to grab my hair (often). He knew what I wanted was for him to lift me up onto the desk and that's exactly what he did. Looking around I saw all the marks of America: the flag, the eagle, the stars. It made me wetter than before to know I was really going to be fucking in the Oval Office. What a thrill. I began unbuttoning his shirt as we kissed with his hands grasping tightly to my thighs.
His chest was hard, and his stomach too. Despite his smooth appearance, he was made of muscle that I knew could pick me up like I was nothing. I pressed my lips onto his neck and tasted his skin. He grabbed my thighs harder, and even harder still when I bit lightly onto his shoulder. At this he pushed me off him and pulled my top over my head, throwing it to the side. My breasts bounced down, bare as could be, with nipples pointing directly at him. He stared for a moment before taking them into his hands and sucking on my nipples. It sent tingles down my spine. Each swipe of his tongue was delicate, but strong. If he could have opened his mouth large enough, he would have devoured all of me in that moment.
"How do you like those, Mr. President?"
He smiled with his mouth still sucking away. I was warm all over. In a minute I would have his dick inside me. The most powerful man in the world. It was enough to make me scream with excitement, though I kept that to a minimum. Wouldn't want to get caught, now would we?
"How would you like to see my pussy, Mr. President?"
"I'd love that," he said, throwing my legs onto his shoulders and laying me down on the desk with my skirt hiked up. He wasted no time--probably because a man like him had none to waste--and within seconds his lips were on my soaking pussy, tongue diving right in like a dart aimed for my insides. I moaned and arched my back. This was the best feeling in the world. Each second his lips and tongue touched me was pure bliss. I grabbed hold of his head when he began flicking my clit with his tongue, right at the tip of the hood where I liked it. I pressed his head onto it.
"Eat my pussy Mr. President," I said between gasps. I could feel the warmth and tingles getting stronger and an orgasm beginning to take hold. He was tracing my entire pussy with his tongue, stopping at the clit to suck before continuing the motion. Over and over he did it as I fell deeper into the waves of pleasure, muscles tightening, back arching. I was squirming, but he held my legs tight. And then finally, in one giant surge, I came--hard. It was the type of orgasm that made you lose your breath, unable to speak. When it was over, he stood up and began undoing his belt. I had trouble getting a hold of myself to move, but the thought of tasting his cock gave me the motivation to get on my knees and take control.
"Let me help you with that," I said, pulling down his pants and underwear. His pretty cock flopped out and pointed hard and straight right at my face. The head of it was clearly defined and I could practically see the blood pulsing like a flood through his veins. He wanted me, bad. I grabbed at the base of it with one hand, squeezing hard and looking up at him. His eyes closed when I did it.
"Is this for me, Mr. President?" He shook his head yes and I took him in my mouth. His skin was sweet and salty and warm. Even on a less deserving man I would have loved that cock. But on him it was all the more spectacular. I had our president's very own flagpole deep i
n my throat. How patriotic of me, I thought.
John moaned as I stroked his cock with my tongue and sent it in and out of my throat. He had his hands in my hair and gripped harder the deeper I went. I knew he wouldn't last long so I pulled off and moved to his balls. They were average enough that I could take them both into my mouth. He gasped when I did. And each pull on them he gasped further, pulling back some while encouraging me to do it again. It drove me wild to think about having the president by the balls like that.
I began stroking his cock with one hand while still cupping his nuts with my mouth, but within a few seconds he was pulling me up and turning me around. With my tits and face pressed hard against the desk, he pulled up behind me and slipped himself in. I was so wet it went in without any resistance at all. I moaned loudly as he did the same. He was deep inside me, pressing hard, and I could feel it in my bones. All seven inches of presidential cock inside me. The best cock in the entire world swallowed up by my pussy.
He sped up, moving in and out with a fervor I thoroughly enjoyed.
"Slap my ass John," I said in a drug out, high pitched squeal. He obeyed, hitting me hard on the right cheek. "Again baby," I screamed. "Again!" His enthusiasm increased then, cock now moving in and out of me hard as fuck and his hand slapping my ass over and over. It left a mark I cherished for days.
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