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From: zifferman@aol.com (Zifferman)
Subject: Story: Clinton 2
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  "Yes I am married, Mister President," she responded, absent-mindedly bringing
her left hand to her chest just below her neck to display her wedding ring.
 Bill leaned back and admired her.  "My my my, your husband sure is a lucky
fellow."
  "Thank you." She was as nervous as she could recall.  She was beginning to
fidget in her seat. Unconsciously she began to rub her buttocks on the seat
cushion.
  Bill smiled as he watched her fidget.  He knew that her squirming was due to
her arousal.  Her labia were apparently swelling open.
 Bill liked the way her jacket highlighted her large breasts and the way the
material was nipped in at the waist.  He also liked the way her skirt clung to
her well-sculpted thighs in a sensual fashion which highlighted her overall
sensuality.  He could see that she wore no foundation garments, and from what
he could determine from the slight sway and jiggle of her tits that she didn't
wear a bra either.  Everything on her body was real and genuine. No padded
bras, no silicone implants, no tummy tucks of any sort.  Her beauty came from
genetics, not from a plastic surgeon.  He would like to explore more of that
beauty.  Indeed, he would like to strip her bare, spread her wide, and examine
her closely.
  He had difficulty deciding where to focus his attention.  Tits or thighs? 
Face or ass?  Calves or nipples?  Decisions!  Decisions!  The work of a horny
President was ceaseless and never-ending.
  Again, Phyllis's heart went out to the President. The way he gazed at her
made her feel like the winner of the Miss America beauty pageant.  The blush in
her checks deepened.  She felt as if she were on display in the front window at
Macy's.
  The President had a hunch he was getting through to her.  "You know, you've
been asking me questions, do you mind if I ask you a few?"
  "Well, I suppose not," she replied.
  He noted that she had a shy and retiring way about her.  He liked that. 
Modesty was as much of a turn-on as a woman who was blatantly sexual. He knew
Phyllis wasn't the type to initiate sexual activity with her husband.  She was
probably one of those girls who was happy to lay on her back in the missionary
position and do what the husband wanted, when he wanted.  She probably didn't
spread her thighs very wide during intercourse.  Girls like that were rare in
modern-day America.
   Because of their rarity, they were that much more fun to fuck.
   "Do you mind if we retire to your dressing room?" he asked.  "I would be
much more comfortable talking with you there."
    Phyllis looked around her.  "Er .. this is most unusual."
    "Say yes, please.  I want to do the interview, but I wish to do it in
private."
    If it were anyone besides the President of the United States who had
requested that of Phyllis, she would have adamantly refused.  But how could a
tax-paying citizen of the United States refuse a request made by the President?
 It just wasn't possible.  She had to obey.  It was her civic duty as a
law-abiding non-felon American.  She prided herself on being a dutiful
taxpayer.  After all, she was a good girl.  All good girls did their duty.
  She grabbed her clipboard and pressed it to her comely breasts.  The womanly
mounds of flesh flattened slightly under the pressure.  She noted that the
nipples had turned into hard little pebbles.  She wondered why.  Usually they
only did that when she was aroused.
  It had been a considerable amount of time since she had last been aroused. 
Her husband, Harry, had stopped arousing her a year ago.  Sex had become an
infrequent event.  "All right," she said.  "Come  with me."
  Oh, he intended to come with her all right.  In fact, he intended to cum with
her several times during the course of the afternoon.  He smiled wickedly at
his own joke.
  He smacked his lips as he watched her rise from the chair.  He took special
delight in surveying her.  Every time she moved, some part of her body moved as
well.
  He followed immediately behind her.  He watched the shapely butt of the
shapely reporter sway to and fro with that unmistakable female rhythm.  There 
was nothing more alluring than the sight of a female ass in motion.
  Mmmmm!  Mmmmm!
  Over the years he had sampled a lot of pussy, but by far the best pussy
belonged to those women who knew how to shake their ass with vim and vigor
while stepping along.  That shaking indicated the ability to provide a nice
tumble in the sack.  It  meant that the woman knew her stuff.
  Mmmmm!Mmmmm!
  From all appearances Phyllis knew all about shaking her shapely ass.  The
rhythmic hip movements indicated either of two things: first, that she already
knew how to move that ass while fucking; or secondly, that she was a woman who
wanted to learn.  Bill smiled.  He was going to have a wonderful time
discovering exactly how many ways she could move her ass.
  Mmmmm!Mmmmm!
  Was she the woman who merely moved it from side-to-side, or was she able to
swirl it around like a corkscrew too?
  Mmmmm!Mmmmm!
  Just thinking about such salacious hip movements set off some significant
movements in his pecker. The sperm was beginning to surge in the base of his
balls.  His cock was beginning to fill with the syrup of love.
  The moment that Phyllis stepped into her dressing room and closed the door,
she realized that she had made a mistake in agreeing to an interview away from
the cameras.  She sensed the President walking up behind her.  She felt him
breathing down her neck.  She was just getting ready to protest when she was
pulled around to face him.
  "Phyllis baby!"
  "Mister President!" she gasped in alarm while looking up into his face. 
"What on earth do you think you're doing?" She worried about his motives. She
had seldom been handled so roughly by a man before.  She had certainly never
expected the President of the United States to make a move on her.
  "I just want to sample those sweet lips of Yours," he said.
  "But Mister President," she exclaimed with a raised voice.  "I'm a married
woman." She brought her hands up to his chest so that her forearms wedged
between their bodies.
  He looked at her with a sultry smile and a sneer on his lips.  "So what?" he
asked.  "I'm a married man."
   She could see that he was challenging her.  His eyes bore directly into
hers.  She could feel his penetrating gaze all the way to the tips of her toes.
  "I know that Mister President.  That's why I don't think you should be
behaving in such a manner.  I don't kiss other men."
  "Oh come on now.  Surely you can give me just one more little kiss!  What
would be the harm in that?"                              "I ... I ... think
that we ought to terminate interview."
  "Terminate an interview with the President of the United States?!  What would
the head of your network say to that?"
   Phyllis gulped.  She knew that Bill had a valid point. if word leaked out
that a rookie reporter had terminated an interview with the President, her
cushy job as a Washington journalist would be terminated.  Good lord!  That
meant no more parties in Georgetown!  That meant no more dining in fabulous
restaurants.  Good grief!  That meant no more expense account!  Heaven forbid! 
That would be the worst thing to befall an overpaid television reporter.  Her
refusal might result in her being sent off to one of those awful places like
... Rwanda, or Bosnia, or perhaps .... Boise!  Egad!  She would rather face a
firing squad than be sent to Boise.  Death would be preferable to such an
assignment.
  She now knew that she would do whatever the President requested.  She liked
her cushy reporting job too much to jeopardize it.  Actually, she liked her
megabuck salary and all the wonderful perks which went with it even more. 
There weren't too many jobs like hers where all one had to do was look pretty
and stand in front of a camera for five minutes per day.  She got paid
handsomely for basically being a lovely talking head.
   Bill could see that she was thinking things over.  Ah yes!  He loved modern
American society. People were so fucking scared of losing their job (if they
were lucky enough to have one which paid a decent salary), that they would do
anything to keep it.
  "Tell me doll, how would you like to have an assignment inside the White
House Press Office?"
   Those words caught her attention.  "Excuse me?" she asked, confused. 
Nothing excited a female reporter more than the possibility of being invited to
the White House.  The only thing more exciting was being offered a job in the
White House.  And the only-thing better than that was being offered a job in
the White House press office.  That was the top of the pyramid.  That was the
best slot in the business.  "Could you please run that by me again, Mister
President?"
  He smiled his famous heart-warming smile which had won him so many votes in
the last election.  In fact, he practically grinned from ear-to-ear.  Now that
he knew he was getting through to her, he decided to lay in on thick.  That was
the nice thing about having power, he could wheel and deal his way between the
thighs of practically any beautiful woman.
 Just like men, women all had their price.
 Keeping his grin in place he said, "Just imagine, you wouldn't have to do this
on-the-road crap anymore.  During the middle of the winter you wouldn't have to
stand out in the cold on the White House lawn.  You could stay inside and keep
your titties warm.  And during the summer, you wouldn't have to stand out in
the blazing sun and humidity and worry about mussing your pretty hair.  No
rain, no snow, no sleet, no hail.  Just the comforts of working in the White
House.  Wouldn't that be nice? Mmmmm!  Wouldn't you like an assignment like
that?"
  Phyllis blinked her eyes.  She thought that she might be dreaming.  An
assignment inside the White House.
   WOW!
   With her own office!
   Double wow!
   And she would probably have her own secretary!
   Triple wow!
   And if this was a typical government job, she wouldn't have to work very
hard and yet she would receive ten times the benefits of people in the private
sector.  Hot dog!  That was the kind of offer which could convince a good girl
to go bad.
   Phyllis had done nothing to earn such an assignment.  Heck!  She had only
been with the network for a few years.  She didn't even have a degree in
journalism.  The only thing she had going for her were her looks.  But then,
she noticed that her looks helped her win a lot of promotions she didn't
deserve.  Oddly enough, she noticed that, she always got picked for assignments
because of her looks.
  "But ... but ... why are you offering me this?" she asked in a soft trembling
voice.
  Bill smiled seductively.  He stepped closer.  The breath caught in her throat
as he lifted his arms and wrapped them around her.  He embraced her and held
her close.  She could feel his warm breath on the sides of her neck.  He seemed
to be nuzzling it, getting ready to kiss it.
  He placed the tip of his nose on her earlobe. Gently, he rubbed it back and
forth a few times. She found that she liked the sensation.  It tickled her and
made her feel good all over.  She had never guessed that the earlobe was an
erogenous zone.
 He kept his voice low as he whispered, "You have one of the most scintillating
bodies I have ever seen in my life."
 She was feeling giddy.  And yet, she was quite, nervous.  "I do?" she asked.
 "Oh yes," he replied, continuing to fiddle with her earlobe.  "I would say
that it's as good as a Playboy Bunny."
 "Oh, pshaw!" She knew she was pretty, but never thought she was pin-up
material.
  "I mean it." He stuck out his tongue and touched the tip to her earlobe.
  She felt it moisten.  She became momentarily breathless.  Other regions of
her body were also becoming moist.  She couldn't help herself.  The fluids just
seemed to flow.
 "I would like to see all of you."
 "All of me?"
  "Naked."
  Her eyes opened wide.  In fact, her eyelids seemed to have acquired the
equivalent of lockjaw.  They wouldn't close.  She couldn't blink.  Now she knew
the precise reason why she had been offered a choice White House assignment. 
She was being coaxed to going to bed with the President of the United States.
She thought such shenanigans went out of fashion with the Kennedys.
  Phyllis knew she had to offer some resistance before things got completely
out of hand.  "But Mister President!  Your wife!"
  Bill giggled.  "Hillery?"
  "Yes!  Think of her."
  "Hillery sucks."
  Phyllis gasped.  "Mister President.  You're speaking about the First Lady!"
  "The First Lady is a closet dyke."
  "A...a ... a ... what?"
  "A fag."
  Once more Phyllis gasped.  She couldn't believe what she was hearing.  How
could the First Lady of the United States be a closet homosexual?  If Hillery
were a dyke, what was she doing being married to Bill?  "Oh no!"
  "Oh yes.  Right now she's out in Hollywood, attending some bullshit
get,together with some of her bullshit Hollywood buddies.  They're all
do-gooders you know.  They're either attempting to save the rain forests, or
the oceans, or the beaches, or the little animals, or people who suffer from
hemorrhoids, or women with leaking silicone breasts, or whatever.  In the old
days there were a lot of worthwhile causes to get involved in-such as cancer,
or tuberculosis, or heart disease, or tay Sachs.  However, the Hollywood crowd
has run out of truly worthwhile causes. The causes nowadays are increasingly
trivial.  If they can invent a cause, they do.  Then they found a non-profit
organization, make some spots for television and radio, and start a campaign. 
Of-course, the actors and actresses who promote these sorts of things care far
less about the causes they represent, than they do about keeping their face in
front of the pubic.  If I know my wife Hillery, she probably has her head
buried between another woman's thighs and she's probably eating her out at this
very second.  You know, lap, lap, lap."
 The news stunned Phyllis.  She had long heard rumors about the first lady and
her sexual proclivities, but she had never believed them.
  "Is that really true?" she asked.
  "Yes ... I'm afraid it is," said Bill.
  "But don't you have sex?"
  Actually Hillery and Bill had sex all the time. In fact, they fucked more
than any first family had ever fucked. (With the possible exception of the
Kennedys-but then, Jack Kennedy was always busy committing adultery on Jackie.)
But the Clintons had established a mutual understanding.  If either one of them
saw some pussy which he or she liked, he or she would share it with the other. 
It made for a happy homelife and a very happy White House.
  Sometimes, Bill and Hillery would have a three way.  Or, they would invite
some of the Cabinet members in and have an orgy in the Oval Office.  But Bill
didn't want to tell Phyllis that.  He wanted her to feet sorry for him.  Then
maybe she would offer him a piece of her very own succulent ass.
  "Mister President! You have your hands on my buttocks!"
  "I know where they are, Phyllis."
  "I'm married.  Please pull them away." She hoped that by making that
statement he would do the decent thing and release her from his grip.  However,
the words only served to draw her closer to him.
  He paid no attention to her plea.  Instead, he commenced rubbing her
posterior with the palm of his hand.  He loved the feel of a shapely woman's
ass.  There was something especially sensual about cupping the cheeks of the
female ass in one's palms, and running one's fingers back and forth along the
curvature of the flesh, while at the same time pressing one's fingers into the
resilient mounds as if they were bread dough and he were a baker kneading it.
  He pressed her closer to him by her ass.  He fixed his rod of flesh to that
especially vulnerable region between the hollow of her thighs so that she could
feet his arousal.  He adjusted his pelvis so that she could discern the blunt
end of his manhood.  He wanted her to know how he felt about her.  He wanted
her to know he had a hard-on.
  She knew he had an erection all right.  She felt it rubbing between her
tightly clamped thighs, through the material of her skirt and his slacks.  And
as a result she become even more worried about his intentions.  Surely he
wouldn't be so bold as to make a move on her!  Surely he couldn't!  He was the
President of the United States, for crying out loud!
   But she could feel the evidence of his need.  And because he held her close,
she could feel every single inch of it.  It was making quite an impression on
her legs.
 She attempted to appeal to his sense of decency.
 "Mister President.  I really don't think this is right."
 "Sure it is.  It's as right as rain."
  "No it isn't.  I don't play around.  Really, I don't. Honestly."
  He found that hard to believe.  "All American women play around nowadays."
  "No they don't." She knew that a lot of women did in fact play around. 
Indeed, some of her friends committed adultery regularly.  Some even went so
far as to say that they couldn't go through a week without at least one new
lover.
  "This is a hedonist society, lady.  Where have you been?"
  "I am not a hedonist.  I am a happy and proud puritan."
  Bill snickered.  "Puritanism died a terrible death some time ago."
 Phyllis became defensive.  "Not with me it didn't."
 "You're too beautiful to be a puritan."
 His words touched hen Like all women, she responded to being called beautiful.
 "I don't care. I am."
  "I bet that underneath that prim exterior of yours lies a woman of incredible
passion and responsiveness.  I bet that other side of you is yearning to break
out and breathe free."
 "You're very wrong, Mister President.  There is no other side of me other than
what you see."
  "What I see is quite gorgeous.  Breathtakingly so."
  Once more she was touched.  Not only did he think her beautiful, but gorgeous
as well.  Could he really be falling for her?  Was it possible that the
President of the United States wanted to have an affair with a lowly network
reporter?  She was quite confused by this turn of events.  She was now having
doubts about her avowed puritanical attitude. Perhaps she was a little too
strict by today's standards.  Maybe she should play the field-at least
once-just to see what it was all about.  Besides, when one was asked by the
President to do something, wasn't it considered patriotic to follow?
  "I'm a lonely man, Phyllis.  I really am."
  She knew what those words meant.  She knew where his line of reasoning was
going.  He was preparing her for the conquest.  "I don't think I can do
anything for you," she cautioned.
  "You could ease my loneliness.  You could make me seem whole again.  You
could satisfy my carnal needs."
  She took a deep breath and replied, "You have a wife to do that.  You don't
need me."
  "Hillery and I aren't sleeping together anymore. We haven't for quite some
time."
  "Oh dear!  Do you mean that you and Hillery no longer .. er... You're saying
that ... er.. I mean... " Phyllis had a difficult time framing her question.
She really couldn't ask such a personal thing of him.  Such questions were
better left to Sam Donaldson, the cutthroat journalist.  Sam was terrific with
those questions which made a reporter resemble a son-of-a, bitch.
  The President took the opportunity to answer. "That's right.  We no longer do
it.  Never."
  Phyllis knew that denial of sexual intercourse was a terrible thing to happen
to a man.  After all, men lived for sex.  Men were always getting erections and
needed someplace to put them.  She knew that to be true because she was
approached by wolves all the time!  Many of those wolves were married and had
families!
  But Bill wasn't like that.  He couldn't be like that.  After all, he was the
President of the United States.  And as everyone knows, Presidents don't lie.
(unless one excludes Lyndon Johnson for lying about ending the Vietnam War, and
Richard Nixon for lying about knowing of Watergate, and George Bush for lying
about raising taxes.)
  But Phyllis was willing to give Bill the benefit of the doubt.  After all, he
seemed like such a warm and caring man.  He seemed like such a nice fellow. She
decided to be empathetic.
  "Oh you poor dear."
  Bill listened carefully to her tone of voice.  He deduced that she was
sincerely sympathetic.  He decided that he should press matters further along. 
After all, he was quite horny.  "My John Henry hasn't had any female relief in
ages."
   "Your John Henry?" she asked, confused by the term.
   "Yes, my penis.  My cock.  My pecker."
   "Oh dear," she gasped when she had the usage verified.  Now Phyllis was
extremely worried.  Surely the President of the United States couldn't have the
same vile urges that other men did.  He was supposedly a good and decent man. 
That's what all the campaign ads said.  Did he expect her to satisfy his John
Henry?  Did he expert her to play with his John Henry and put it into her
vagina?  She certainly hoped not.  She couldn't do such a thing to her husband,
Harry.  After all, they had been married for only a few years.  They were still
technically newlyweds.  She was quite satisfied with her marriage.  She had no
intention of straying.  She had no reason to cheat.
  "A White House assignment for a roll in the sack," Bill said with a smile on
his face.
  Now Phyllis had a reason to cheat.
  Ironically, at that precise moment, she noted that she was feeling slightly
aroused.  She suspected the reason was because Bill had a tender way of
stroking her buttocks.  He was quite gentle.  He took his time to lightly touch
her flesh, and casually play with her posterior globes.  She breathed a sigh of
relief as she relaxed in his embrace.  He seemed to have the hands of a
gentleman.
  Although Phyllis didn't know it, the President also had the hands of a
practiced cunthound.  He had gotten laid as recently as that morning-by his
wife no less.  Hillery had spread her legs wide and had ridden him to blissful
completion.  She had even given him a blow job before he went out to hit the
campaign trail.  She knew that her husband thought better and spoke more
dynamically when his balls had been discharged of their precious cargo.
  "I need a woman, Phyllis."
  "Oh dear." She felt his arousal pressing against her lower belly and on down
to her thighs.  There seemed to be a substantial knot down there.  It seemed to
be knocking on her pubis, asking for entrance to her feminine chamber.
  "But ... but ... Mister President."
  "Yes, you have a very lovely butt." Bill rubbed his palms upon it,
soothingly, lovingly, and caressingly.
  She couldn't help responding to his agile fingers. She was feeling better
with every caress.
  "The moment I saw you, I knew I had to have you."
  "Please Mister President.  Don't do this to me."
  "Call me Bill."
   Phyllis didn't like referring to him by his first name.  However, she would
do anything to extricate herself from his pawing hands.  "Please Bill."
   "I know you want it as much as I do."
   "Please." Like all women in similar situations, her resistance was rapidly
vanishing.  The longer he held her, the more he caressed her ass, the more
insistently he pressed his manhood against her Mound of Venus, the more eager
she was to consummate a relationship with the Chief Executive.  It wasn't long
before she began to press her pelvis against his, encouraging him.
  "That's it baby, rub against me.  Show me that you like me."
  She did.  She could feel her little pussy beginning to pout open.  Her cunt
was acting like an out-of-control animal.  It wanted to go on a feeding frenzy.
And she knew what it wanted.  It desired cock.  And not just any cock either. 
But Presidential cock.
  She began to think of the implications.  She would be one of the few
reporters in America who had sampled a Presidential penis.  Mmmmm.  For some
odd reason she found that an appetizing idea. She could feel her pussy tubing
at that very second.
   Once Bill recognized the tell-tale signs of a woman in need, he wasted no
time.  He pulled her blouse tails out of the waist of her skirt and, reaching
up under her shirt and jacket, cupped her breasts, placing his palms beneath
them and rubbing the pads of his thumbs along the underside.  They felt firm
and hot.
  "Goodness," she gasped, surprised by the wave of pleasure which rushed over
her.
  "Now, now.  There's no need to worry.  It's perfectly natural."
  "But Mister President.  I've never done anything like this before."
  "Neither have I," he tied.  Of course, Bill Clinton did it all the time. 
That was the reason he had entered politics.  As a youngster, he had noticed
that Washington D.C. had some of the most gorgeous women in the country. Since
he was a real cunthound, he naturally aspired to politics, where quality pussy
was in abundance.
 Taking one hand from a tit, he reached down.  He lifted the hem of her skirt.
He angled his hand towards the vee of her thighs, which by now were slowly
parting, partly from fatigue, partly from her own lust. He made a beeline for
her crotch.  His hand covered it.
  "Ooooh Mister President."
  He pushed aside the hem of her panties and stroked her throbbing sex.
  "You're moist," he said.
  She was embarrassed by the juices flowing out of her.  In a soft whisper she
replied, "Yes."
  "Are you ready?"
  "I  ... I ... I ... 11 She couldn't answer. She was much too flustered.
  He extended his index finger.  Without a second's delay, he pushed it into
her.
  "Oooh, Bill!" she gasped, puckering her lips as his fingers made progress
into her sheath. It was the first time since her marriage that another man had
touched her in such a blatantly sexual manner. Ironically, she felt her body
responding.  In fact, she welcomed the invasion into her womanly folds.  To
assist him, she angled her pelvis towards him while at the same time sliding
her pussy downward onto his invading digit.
  "That's the way, babe.  That's the way."
  "Bill, isn't this what is known as sexual harassment?"
  The President cringed.  He didn't want to hear a question like that.  Aa
Governor he had already been sued once for sexual harassment.  He didn't want
it to happen again.  He had to think fast.  "Oh no. This isn't sexual
harassment."
  While his finger was inside of her pussy she asked, "Then what is sexual
harassment?"
   "It's when a common ordinary citizen makes an unwanted move against a member
of the opposite sex. We politicians be guilty of sexual harassment."
 "But what about Senator Packwood?"
 The President snapped his finger.  "A perfect example.  He's still in office,
isn't he?"
  "Hey!  You're right.  Politicians really are above the law!"
  "You see.  That's why I'm the President.  Now if you don't mind, I'd like to
have you spread your lovely legs a bit more because I want to get into you much
deeper."
  "Oh, of course." She was now so aroused, she was willing to assist him in the
assault on her beautiful body.  Each stroke of her pussy made her feel better. 
Each tickle of her twat sent her further into orbit.
  "Let's lie down," he suggested.
  "Should we?"
  "Of course we should." To demonstrate his need, he pushed her over to the
couch were she fell backwards.  Because he was so horny, he sank to his knees
and lifted the hem of her skirt all the way to her waist.  And to dispense with
any encumbrances, he ripped the panties from her body.
  "Bill!" she shrieked.
  "Keep those legs of yours spread wide.  I'm coming home."
  And with those words, he zeroed in on her womanly treasure. "It's muff diving
time."
   "Muff diving?  What on earth are you talking about?!"
   She learned the answer to that question in only a matter of a nanosecond. 
The leader of the Free World's tongue was soon moving up and down the length of
her slit. She practically had a heart attack when she felt his flesh touch
hers.  "Oh.  Bill!  You shouldn't do that!"  Even her husband didn't do that!
  He stuck his tongue into her slot.
  "Oh Bill!"
  He licked her liquid essence.
  "Oh Bill!  Oh Bill!  Oh Bill!"
  He reached up and pulled her labia wide apart so he could get his tongue more
deeply into her.
  "Oh Bill!  Bill!  Bill!"
  Phyllis had never known such pleasures could take place.  Her body responded
with liquid pleasure. She was melting in Bill's embrace.  She spread her legs a
little wider so that he could have greater access to her choice meadow.  She
had never conducted an interview like this before.  And she had never expected
such an event to take place with a President of the United States.  She now
knew why he was called the Commander-in-Chief. With that tongue of his women
would follow him anywhere.
   "Oh Bill!  Oh Bill!  Oh Bill!"
   With each coo, sigh, and gasp, she arched her back a little more and she
forced her pubis against his face with that much more determination.  Now that
she knew the joys of cunnilingus, she wanted more.
  And more.
  And more!
  In fact, she wouldn't mind spending the remainder of her days supine and
being licked out. She reached down between her thighs.  She placed her hands on
either side of her pubis.  She pulled her labia apart.  She wanted him to have
the fullest access possible to her womanly charms.
 He fulfilled her silent request by making long strokes with his tongue all the
way from her perineum to her clitoris.  He laved the entire area until it was
thoroughly drenched with both her secretions and those of his tongue.
  "Oh Bill!"
  It didn't take her long to realize that she had been shortchanged in her
marriage to Harry.  Her husband had never once offered to provide her with such
bliss.  He was from the old school.  Apparently he thought that cunt-sucking
was a taboo practice. She sighed contentedly as she allowed Bill to delve.  It
might

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