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My dad, well, he just built on it. Went into fucking politics. He says it's to protect the family business. Whatever. He just probably likes the power. I don’t remember much, when he and my mom were married - I think I was 2.
Oh right, I call him my Dad because he’s all I’ve ever known. My mom died shortly after marrying that asshole. He became my legal guardian. But we’ll talk more about how I haven’t talked to him in forever. Right now I’m fucking this bitch.
She moans again lewdly and I think I love politics. My Dad said I should go into politics too. That’s basically why I’m here as a White House Intern right after my senior year at Yale. My dad’s the Mayor of New York City, and with a few favors and a few strings pulled, he’s put his son in at a job where he can sit in the President’s chair and get a blowjob from the First fucking Daughter.
Speaking of which, I look down. Holy fucking shit! Abby is bobbing her head up and down my shaft like a fucking pro. My cock is in a world of it’s own. It’s throbbing so hard, ready to cum that it must have it’s own fucking heartbeat. Yeah, my dad definitely wouldn’t approve of this.
But you know what? He probably wouldn’t approve of a lot of things I do. Definitely doesn’t approve of the line of tattoos gracing my arms and chest that I got in college while playing football. Definitely doesn’t approve of the fucking assembly line fucking I do of the female species. Although, there’s nothing I can really do about that. The women, they seem to throw themselves at me.
And hey, can you fucking blame them? I’m 21 years old. Young, with blue eyes and dimples. A ripped fucking body. The body of a fucking Greek god. A fucking gladiator. 8-pack abs. I bench twice my weight easily. I have a body fat index of 5%.
But that’s what brings the ladies to me in the first place. First year co-eds, sorority sluts, graduate student assistants, professors, housewives, and now First Daughters. They coo with lust as I take my clothes off and kiss between their neck and their shoulder. Then they get my pants off.
And their eyes bug the fuck out.
Because they see it.
My cock.
12 fucking inches of lust muscle. Veiny, and thick as your wrist. With its head that turns an angry color of purple, and at first they’re afraid.
“Lance, I don’t know….” they say out loud with fear and trepidation in their voices. They try jerking it, but they usually need two hands. I get them off once with my fingers and tongue. And then no matter their protests, I get them to take just the tip.
I’ll probably only be able to sink in half way into them. But by then they’re clawing at my back and screaming for Jesus. They’ve blasted off and gone into orbit, their minds no longer on this level of existence my cock is so good. By the time I’m done with them, they’ve forgotten their fucking names. They’ve forgotten their boyfriends, lovers, spouses, parents, you name it.
All they know is Lance fucking Anders. All they want is Lance Anders.
I grunt savagely as Abby continues her ministrations on my cock. I need to fuck, just thinking about all these women.
“Hey, get up,” I command. She looks at me for one second but them I pull her up with my arms. She squeals as I turn her over and bend her on her daddy’s desk. I lift up her skirt and yank down her panties. Fuck, I may have ripped those panties. But they were boring cotton briefs. Not really worth the loss, if you ask me.
Abby squeals again in excitement and juts her ass out. I waste no time and put on a condom and position my head into the mouth of her pussy and shove into her canal.
“Oh my fucking God, Lance!” Abby moans out loud.
She starts squirming on my cock, like a bug pierced by a needle—her arms writhing all over the desk. I don’t notice because I’ve closed my eyes and I’m imagining all the various girls I’ve fucked over my short lifespan.
Is it a lot? Sure. I won’t lie. But I’ve always taken care to be safe and I’ve always been honest with the girls. I’ve told them that I’m young. I’m not looking for anything permanent. Hell, I’m looking for one night. Maybe two if they’re really good and I’m in the mood. A week is the absolute max. Two weeks? Fuck that. After that, we’ll be friends, but they have to remember my motto: One and done.
Sure when my cock is going in and out of them like it’s doing to Abby they nod their head and bite their tongue. But as soon as they cum? As soon as they recover from that amazing fuck? They’re getting all clingy. They’re making plans to go up to the Cape to meet their fucking parents. They’re renting hotel rooms in the middle of the afternoon where we can go and fuck.
Listen, I don’t know what to say if you don’t believe me. Take a look at Abby right now, if you don’t think I’m telling you the truth. She’s going crazy, grunting and groaning like a fucking animal in heat. Her eyes are clouded up with fucking lust. Her hands are desperately trying to grab hold of something. Anything.
She hits one of the phones along the side of the desk. I don’t know which one. But whatever, she actually feels pretty good. She’s a bit of a slut—at least that’s the word around the West Wing. She’s not tight. I’ll grant you that.
“Oh baby, I’m going to fuck you so hard!” I tell her.
Is it me or is she talking in a very low voice? I bend over closer to hear her without breaking my stride.
“Oh unggggghh, baby, it’s so daaaa….good,” she moans again.
I close my eyes, and go back to imagining the women I’ve been with. So much I’ve wanted to do with them.
“Tell me how much you want it,” I tell her. I hold onto her hips and increase my tempo.
“Oooohh,” Abby coos. “Eeeeee,” she pants. At least that’s what it sounds like. I haven’t opened my eyes yet. Just going by auditory impulses.
“Tell me how much you fucking love my cock,” I say, getting closer and closer.
