by Abby Angel
God, I almost forgot to put the damn thing on.
Coming back to it, I pick it up from nightstand and slide it on my finger. Alright, I think to myself as I look at the tacky diamond on my finger, it’s show time.
Austin
This is crazy.
It's not what I fucking do.
I don't put my entire life—every waking minute—into one woman. And yet here I am, sitting in the backseat of a presidential limo, on my way to pick Ashley up, and I haven't stopped thinking about her from the moment I met her.
We’re going to go to dinner in Georgetown but all I want to do is fuck.
Don’t roll your eyes at me. You saw that body of hers.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I want to squeeze those ass cheeks. The only way I want to stop is to run my cock between them. Those tits.
Don’t forget those fucking gorgeous fucking tits. Squeeze them together and run my cock through them.
Yes, yes, I know. I have a desire to rub my cock on everything that looks attractive. Don’t worry, I like steak, I won’t be rubbing my cock on it too. You probably wish though, don’t you? Okay, maybe not the steak, but you wish I’d rub my cock on your face, huh?
Don’t lie.
Fuck, listen to me. I need to keep a cool head.
I need to focus. This is an opportunity for me to learn more about her. Sure, I'd like to fuck her—that's no secret—but I'm still weary of her. I know what she does for a living—she's crushed some of the most powerful men, and I don't want to be yet another victim.
But, I trust Tracy.
And Tracy says that Ashley is the perfect woman for the job. To say that I'm conflicted is an understatement. I just hope Tracy's right.
The limo pulls up to her apartment.
She's outside, waiting. Punctual. Don’t you think so?
I see her through the window and taker her in with my eyes. She's wearing a short, tight, black cocktail dress that hugs her every fucking curve. It's not too short; it's classy. Her breasts sit at the top of her dress like two perfect scoops of vanilla ice cream, and I think to myself that they look good enough to eat. Like I said, she's a true professional. She looks fucking stunning.
The driver opens the door and ushers her in, and immediately, I'm assaulted by her smell. It's floral, and brings a burst of seductive femininity into the car. If it's possible to be drunk off someone's smell, then this is it.
"It's good to see you," I smile, taking her hand and giving it a quick kiss. Whether I trust Ashley or not, there is no way that I'm not going to bang her.
She retracts her hand. "You can save the charm for some other woman," she says, snapping her seatbelt into place. "I'm not some naïve intern, you know."
"I never thought you were," I smile. "You're a whole lot more than that."
She rolls her eyes, but I see the hint of a smile forming on her lips. "You don't know anything about me, except that I have these exceptional tits, and a tight dress."
"That's not true," I say.
She laughs. "Of course it is. Men are so predictable. They pretend to be different, but really, they're all the same."
She talks tough, but I can see that I'm having an affect on her, no matter what she says. Still, her walls are clearly up, but I know that I can get around them.
"How far are we from the restaurant?" she asks.
"We've only been on this ride for a few minutes; are you that desperate to get off?" I say with a wink.
"Very funny," she says, trying to act annoyed with the double entendre, but I can tell she found it amusing.
"We should be there soon," I smile. "I hope you're hungry."
"Downright ravenous," she grins.
"What's your favorite food?" I ask. "While we're here, I might as well find out as much about you as I can. You're my fiancée, after all."
"Fake fiancée," she corrects me, and I realize now that's the second time I've been corrected for saying that.
She continues, "But if you must know … I'm a big fan of sausage."
"Is that so?" I say, smiling. "What kind?"
Then she lowers her voice into a purr and bats her eyes. "The longer the better."
"How long?" I ask, leaning in closer to her.
"Preferably anything 12-inches … or more," she replies with a devilish grin. "I can eat quite a bit … when I'm hungry."
As she says this my fucking cock starts twitching in my pants. It literally has a pulse of its own now.
I reach over and finger the delicate gold necklace draped around her neck. "This is beautiful," I say. "But it could be better, you know."
"How so?" she asks, grinning and enjoying this game.
"I think you'd look much better in a pearl necklace … if I'm being honest."
"And I think you'd look better if we loosened your tie … just a bit," she grins, sliding her small, manicured hand up my chest and resting it on the silk knot of my tie. She gives the knot a gentle tug, ever so slightly, and I can't help but feel my pulse quicken under her touch.
Just as the limo pulls up to Marcel's, I turn to Ashley and ask, "Why are you so cynical?"
But just then, the door opens and we are ushered out of the car, greeted by a mob of photographers. Flashbulbs are going off in every direction, and it's disorienting.
Realizing that we are now under extreme scrutiny, I turn to Ashley and give her a kiss.
She kisses me back, and then whispers in my ear, "This is why I'm so cynical."
Instead of responding, I smile because no matter what, I intend to make her a believer. One way or another.
Over dinner, we discuss everything, from the state of the country, to my campaign, and even why I want to be president. We leave no stone unturned. And despite myself, I find that I'm opening up to Ashley, just a little bit.
I wouldn't say that I trust her completely—but it's apparent that we see eye-to-eye on a lot of things.
"And what about your business?" I ask.
At first she seems uncomfortable that the conversation has shifted to her. Then she says, "I'm only exposing people for who they really are. You can think of it as my much smaller way of 'clearing the cave.'"
I smile at the reference, and I feel my respect for Ashley grow. She seems to be opening up a little more as well.
And while I'm getting to know Ashley Draper, I can't help but notice how stunning she looks. Her gold, diamond earrings keep catching the light of the restaurant, and glittering like stars, just out of reach.
I can't take my eyes off of that dark, cavernous trail of her cleavage, or the curves of her ass peaking out from under her dress.
It's also clear that my cock wants her just as badly as I do.
Looking at Ashley in that gorgeous and tight dress is making my cock stick out like a 12-inch lead pipe. People are gonna notice this Presidential boner.
I need to not be in the public eye. That means less talking to you.
Time to change the point of view.
Ashley
So, I’m actually having a good time.
Despite what I initially thought of Austin, he isn’t half as bad as I thought he’d be. He’s fun, charming, and engaging … and surprisingly, he also seems sincere. He really does seem to want the best for the country.
Also, him trying to hide his erection was the cutest thing.
Yes, I saw it. Sort of flattered too.
Wouldn’t you be if some guy got hard for you and you still had all your clothes on?
I know what you’re thinking—I’m being fooled by a master manipulator. That’s a fair point, actually. I know how to spot these types from far away, but I just don’t see it in Austin … and that’s what’s really dangerous. I mean, he’s the President of the United States, and you don’t get to be the Commander in Chief without being a ruthless political operator. I have to be extra careful around Austin, there’s no doubt about it; I don’t want to fall for a person who doesn’t really exist.
Right now he’s dr
iving me home, which means we’re riding around DC in the Presidential Car. Aptly nicknamed The Beast, the car is more of a tank than a limo. In front of us (as well as behind) follow a few dozen SUVs, part of the presidential motorcade. I shudder to think how much money the taxpayers are paying just because Austin and I decided to have dinner.
Of course, I should also mention that my apartment building now has a permanent security staff, headed by the Secret Service itself. Although I’m not the First Lady, the White House decided to place me under strict security measures, which really, I don’t mind, although it’s a bit annoying, it beats being beheaded by some jihadist asshole.
"Why don’t you spend the night at the White House?" Austin says, turning to the side so that he’s looking straight into my eyes. There’s a playful grin on his face, and I know that he’s toying with me. The press would have a field day if, just one day after revealing his fiancée to the public, Austin took her to the White House.
"Are you that desperate, Austin?" I tease him, offering him a grin of my own. "I am just your fake fiancée … you better not forget about the fake part."
"I’m not forgetting anything," he replies without giving it a second thought. "I just don’t see what that has to do with anything. Fun is fun."
"Fun is fun… Is that what you were thinking at the Sofitel Hotel? I bet the South Korean ambassador loved that line."
"As a matter of fact, she did," he continues, turning around on his seat, a fire growing behind his eyes.
"Good thing I’m not an ambassador then," I chuckle, looking out the window and avoiding his gaze. God, if I keep looking into his eyes, I truly don’t know what I might be capable of. I told you before, I might not trust him to be completely genuine, but his cut body and handsome smile… Now that’s something I know is pretty genuine … and dangerous too.
More than that, Austin knows how to use that tongue of his. He’s charming and seductive, and he knows exactly what to say and what to do in order to drive a woman completely insane… I wonder just exactly what other things he can do with his tongue.
I try to distract myself, watching the wide DC avenues roll by us, but it’s almost impossible. My heart is drumming loudly against my chest, and there’s a whirlwind of wicked thoughts dancing inside my head. And, to top all that, my pussy is as wet as it has ever been. I can already feel my drenched thong sticking to my skin; it’s so uncomfortable that I wouldn’t mind just taking it off…
What did Austin say? Fun is fun, right? Well, let’s have some fun then. I don’t want to be the only one going home horny and frustrated. Let him taste his own poison.
"Tell me, Austin," I start, turning around to meet his gaze once more, "I’m curious. How are you going to survive one year without women…? Without sex?"
"Maybe I don’t have to go one year without sex. You only said I couldn’t be with other women, after all…" he replies, his eyes roaming up and down my body, and I can tell that he has already started to undress me mentally.
"I did. I guess you found that loophole quickly enough," I chuckle, placing my hand on his knee as I do it. I take it off as quickly as I’ve touched him, but it’s enough to make a hard shape start to grow between his legs. Shamelessly, I let my eyes fall down to the bulging shape already tenting his pants.
"Like what you see?" he asks me with a cocky smile, not even bothering to hide his hard-on. His cock seems to be massive, bigger than any other cock I’ve ever seen, and my knee-jerk response is to tell him that yes, I love what I’m seeing.
"It takes more than that to impress me," I whisper with a shrug, narrowing my eyes seductively. "More than size, it takes skill."
"Well, you can’t criticize without trying it…" he whispers back at me, and I notice that his cock has grown even bigger with the prospect of some real action. And, thing is, the same has happened with my pussy; I’m so wet right now that my fluids are starting to drip down my inner thighs. If I’m not careful, soon enough there’s going to be a wet patch on my dress.
Usually I’m always in control of the situation, but with Austin … there’s something about him (or, rather, there are a lot of things about him) that just make me feel completely out of control. And that’s a feeling I’m not very familiar with. Call me a control-freak if you want to, but I’m always at a loss whenever I feel control slipping off my fingers. Except, right now, I don’t feel at a loss; instead, I feel ecstatic.
"Fun is fun, right?" I ask him, laying one hand on his knee and then allowing my fingers to make the hike up to his crotch.
"Fun is fun," he repeats after me, his grin widening as I rest the palm of my hand over his hard cock.
Well, let’s have some fun then.
Ashley
The moment I rest my hand over Austin’s crotch and curl my fingers around his cock, it’s as if something snaps in his mind.
He closes the distance between both of our bodies and places one hand on the nape of my neck; tangling his fingers in my hair, he looks me straight in the eyes and smiles. Not a grin, but a smile. Then he leans into me slowly, and I find my eyelids drooping by instinct. Our lips make contact a heartbeat later and, right then, I know that I made the right choice by surrendering to the lust fluttering inside of me.
Parting my lips, I slide my tongue inside his mouth and flick it against his, kissing him with a passion so fierce and violent that it makes me afraid. He holds my head as we kiss, his fingers turned into claws as he grabs me by the hair.
"Delicious … just like I thought," he whispers as he pulls back from me, that sweet smile of his still dancing on his lips. "I’ve been dying to taste your lips."
"What else have you been dying to taste?" I ask him, deviousness making my heart race faster. Still with my fingers on his cock, I flatten the palm of my hand against his pulsing member and apply some pressure there, enjoying the way an expression of pleasure washes over his face.
"I can ask the same thing, you know?" he shoots right back at me, placing one hand on my naked knee and sliding it up until his fingertips are brushing against the hemline of my dress. Reacting by instinct, I part my legs slightly, and he doesn’t hesitate; he runs his fingers up my leg, only stopping when he has them brushing against my inner thigh.
"Maybe I don’t want to taste anything," I reply with a purr, but the way his smile turns into a grin lets me know that he isn’t buying my lies. And, really, what I just told him is a lie because right or wrong, I’m dying to see how he looks under his suit and, yes, I’m also dying to feel the taste of his cock.
"We’ll see about that," he whispers softly, once again leaning into me and brushing his lips against mine. At the same time, his fingers run up my inner thigh, crossing the remaining few inches separating them from my wet pussy. I feel a shiver climbing up my spine the moment I feel his touch on my thong, and that shiver turns into an electric firestorm the moment he flattens his hand against my wetness.
Applying exactly the right amount of pressure, he draws a moan out of me as I lean back against the seat, throwing my head back against the headrest and closing my eyes.
I let go of his cock and take both my hands to his face. Holding him, I open my eyes and lock them on his; this time I’m the one closing the distance between our mouths, my lips looking for his with a burning need. We kiss in abandonment, savoring the taste of each other’s mouth while, at the same time, Austin presses harder against my pussy. Moving his hand up and down, left and right, he hits all the right spots, leaving me wanting more… So much more.
"You’re pretty excited for someone who was playing hard to get," he says with a grin, taking his mouth to my ear while he presses his hand so hard against my pussy that I can’t help but let out another moan.
"You’re one to speak," I chuckle, darting my hand to his crotch and laying it on his cock. I curl my fingers around the thick shape tenting his pants and, without a moment’s hesitation, I grip his cock tightly. "You want this much more than I do," I tease him, moving my hand over his cock much
in the same way he’s doing it to my pussy.
"Maybe," he simply says, sitting up straight on his seat. Moving fast, he takes his hand off of my pussy and grabs me by the wrist; he pulls me up and into him then, and I sit on his lap willingly. I’m straddling, my knees on either side of his thighs, and there’s a fire burning deep inside my belly.
Biting down on my lower lip, I buck my hips at him and press my crotch against his. The hemline of my dress hikes up to my waist as I do it, and I throw my head back as I feel his thickness pressed against the drenched fabric of my thong. Throwing my arms over his shoulders, I start swaying my hips as I build a rhythm, teasing and stroking him with just my crotch.
I do it for God knows how long, my body driven by deep lust and desire, and it doesn’t take long for Austin to try and match my rhythm. He bucks his hips up at me as I move, pressing his thick cock against my pussy so hard that I can’t help but want more.
"You’re so much more than just eye candy, aren’t you, Ashley?" he asks me, his voice heavy with anticipation.
"Took you this long to figure that out, Mr. President? I thought you had to be smart in order to be President," I tease him, getting out from on top of him and sitting by his side again. This time I lean back against the door, placing my heels on top of the leather seat and spreading my legs; I pull my dress up to my waist, offering him a nice view of my La Perla black lace thong.
"Better late than sorry…" he whispers, his eyes widening as he lowers his gaze and focuses on my wet thong. He remains frozen in place for a few seconds, taking in the sight, and I can almost feel the pressure inside the limo growing and growing.
When he finally comes for me, he places both his hands on my ankles and, moving slowly, slides them up to my knees. From there, he cuts inward and moves toward my inner thighs, his fingertips once more brushing against my drenched thong. Without taking his eyes off mine, he lets a devious grin take over his lips and then flicks my thong to the side; he runs the tip of his index finger up the length of my wet pussy and then, taking his hand from between my thighs, raises it toward his mouth.