Mr. President

"Coffee, orange juice, water?" she asked me.

"Just leave it, Maggie," the President told her, with a warm smile. "I'll do the honours."

She looked surprised for a split second, and then shot me a friendly girl-to-girl look as if to tell me I was honoured.

"We won't be disturbed again," he told me, as soon as she'd left the room. "And I don't think we have long."

A surge of electricity ran through my already overheated body. He was tacitly giving me approval to proceed, even reminding me there were time constraints. I wasn't going to be found wanting.

Slipping off my jacket, I placed it on the chair beside me. Gratifyingly, his gaze instantly found my tits through the sheer white material of my blouse. It had been bought with this moment in mind. My chocolate-coloured nipples were so hard they were almost aching, and his staring eyes stayed on them as I headed around to his side of the desk.

I took my time, unbuttoning my blouse on the way, wanting him to savour the moment.

How many people had been in this room in recent times, I wondered. Heads of State! Royalty! World renowned figures! And a high class hooker who was about to suck the President's cock...

Eat your heart out, Miss Lewinsky.

----------

"I hope you approve, Mr. President," I huskily whispered as I eventually reached him.

I positioned myself between his thighs, pushing them apart with the outside of my knees as I pulled the ends of my blouse apart. His eyes were all over my tits as I released them. When I leant forward, offering my right breast to his mouth, he obediently took my erect nipple between his thick lips as I reached for the belt of his trousers.

"Like that," I approved, as he began to suckle my hard bud. "Oh God, yes, like that."

I'd switched nipples on him by the time I was able to drag free his cock. He was already fully erect. For me. I stared downwards, transfixed at the beautiful sight. It was everything I'd ever wanted. For a moment or two, I just stroked up and down the pulsating black shaft, savouring the way it throbbed and jerked with each caress.

Eventually, it was all too much. Such was the need overpowering me, I was almost salivating. God did I ever want this.

"Let me..." I eventually told him, easing my tits away from his mouth and sinking to my knees.

I'd been thinking about this for two months now and had no intention of allowing a single minute to go to waste. I took his hands and placed them on my tits at the same time as taking his thickness between my lips. As soon as I had him there, I forgot all about every technique I'd ever learnt and began to mouth-fuck him as if there was no tomorrow.

With the occasional exception, I enjoyed my work, there was no getting away from that. But this wasn't a normal call. This was the President's rigid cock. And the feeling of it sliding in and out of my mouth, glistening wet with my saliva, was almost too much to bear. Electricity surged through my body. Damn, I was close to cumming just from the excitement of the moment.

"Steady," he warned, wrapping my hair around his fingers. "Steady."

I paused momentarily to look up into his eyes. Dammit, I'd been getting carried away. But then I was carried away...

"I love this," I mumbled, closing my palm around the base of his manhood. "I love your cock, Mr. President."

He didn't answer. But then he didn't need to. The look on his face said it all. When I lowered my head and took him back in my mouth, I made sure I kept my eyes on his, savouring every incendiary expression.

I sucked him more slowly, building up the pressure this time. It wasn't easy. I'd never wanted anything as much as I wanted this man at this moment. His hand was in my hair, grasping it tenderly as my head bobbed on his thick shaft. Then he said the two words that sent me completely over the edge.

"Oh, Emma..."

I came instantaneously.

He hadn't even needed to touch me.

Even as I felt the orgasmic tremors pass through me, I took him as far into my throat as I could. It felt so slutty yet so hot to climax like this, as if I was giving part of myself to him.

I could see from the surprised expression on his face that he'd realised what had just happened. The effect was instantaneous. His hand tightened in my dark locks and he held my head rigid as he thrust upwards. I responded instantly, sucking his cock like a madwoman as he pumped upwards. There was no finesse, just the lewd need of two animals in heat. And my God, it felt good.

I gagged as the intensity of one of his upward thrusts caught me off guard. Coughing, I slid my mouth off his cock so that I could catch my breath but continued to hold it with my greedy fingers.

A string of saliva dangled between my lips and the tip of his hardness. I sucked it back into my mouth as we stared wantonly at one another. The arousal in his eyes lit a fire inside me and I ran my tongue down one side of his hardness and then back up the other.

I was out of control. I knew that. It didn't happen very often but when it did I just let myself go. Suddenly, this wasn't enough. The climax had made sure of that.. Nothing was enough. Except...

Reaching underneath my dress, I tugged my thong down my thighs and slowly raised myself to my feet. Even I couldn't believe I was doing this.

I could see the inner conflict written all over the President's face as he stared at me. The enormity of what I had in mind was clear to both of us and yet in my current state, it was practically impossible to stop myself. I fully straddled his lap before he could push me away. Taking his face in both my hands, I held his gaze as I began to slowly rub my labia against his black cock.

I don't think I'd ever been this aroused in the whole of my life.

"No," he said, his voice hoarse. "I can't."

Of course he couldn't. He was the President of the United States. He was married. And I was here for a blow job, nothing more. Yet the fire inside me was driving me on. My body was practically palpitating with need and I wasn't going to be denied. Not unless he bodily picked me up and dumped me down onto the plush carpet.

"Shhh," I whispered, stilling the objection by placing a finger on his wonderfully thick lips.

I tilted my forehead against his as I continued to slide my overheating cunt up and down against his Presidential manhood. He was trying to fight it, I knew, but I almost had him. He needed this as much as I did.

He wanted me...

"Suck on it," I told him, pushing my finger into his mouth. "That's it, Mr. President, like that. Suck on it."

I pulled his hands to my tits again. The sexual connection between us was electric. All at once he was squeezing my tits and sucking on my index finger. I almost came again there and then. This was the most important man in the world. And I was about to fuck him.

When I pulled my head back so that I could look into his eyes again, I so wanted to kiss him. But that would have been unthinkable. Instead, I dropped my lips to his neck and began to lap my tongue along his skin.

"You need this," I found myself whispering, as my mouth found his ear. "So do I."

My gaze found his again. I wanted to see the expression on his face when he entered me. This was so wrong. So fucking wrong, and yet so fucking right, too. My lips parted, my pupils shifted focus from one of his eyes to the other, searching his face. Searching, searching...

Then I adjusted my body so that his cock was all of a sudden against my opening. I met his upwards push with a downward thrust of my own.

"Yesss..." I hissed, my eyes fluttering as I felt his Presidential cock ease inside my wet pussy.

Oh My God. Yesss...

Our gazes locked on one another. He redirected his hands from my tits to my hips as he pushed up into me. I had him now. He was into this. He was mine. Curling my hands behind his neck, I leant backwards for better penetration. I had no idea how much more time we had left but I don't think either of us would have been able to stop even if his entire security team had rushed into the room.

"Let me do the work," I whispered in his ear. "This is me fucking you, not the other way around."

He understood the significance instantly. If he was ever asked whether he had fucked 'that woman', then the answer was, 'no'.

It was me who had fucked him.

I moved slowly on him, so slowly that he was barely sliding in and out of me. All the while we stared into one another's eyes. I smiled. So did he. At that precise moment I fell in love. When I began to up the pace, he moved with me. It was sublime.

I moved faster, alternating between tight little circles and heavy downward pumps. He met each move with a thrust of his own. Oh fuck. We were both fully into the fuck and the friction was unbelievable.

It didn't take long. For either of us. I was gritting my teeth now and his eyes were squeezed closed as he tried to stave off the inevitable. He had no chance. I wanted his Presidential cum and nothing was going to stop me.

I began to pound down on him with quick, deep strokes. I fucked him for no more than another thirty seconds when I felt his balls begin to tighten. I knew I should drag myself away, sink to my knees, and let him cum on my face, my body, between my lips. Instead, I tightened my internal muscles around his throbbing manhood. It was enough.

"Cum for me," I whispered into his ear, pinching his earlobe between my teeth. "Cum for me, Mr. President..."

I wrapped my hands more firmly around his shoulders and held my new lover against me as he fired two quick streams into my clutching pussy.

"Yes, baby, yesss..."

As his bursts continued, I stroked the back of his scalp and held him even closer. His body jerked with each new expulsion and in that moment I had never felt so at one with anyone in my life.

Eventually, when he was fully spent and we were both able to catch our breaths, I think the enormity of what had just happened hit us both. When he stared into my eyes, I knew the fairy tale was over.

He lifted me off him, helping me to lean against his desk, then rose to his feet and tucked himself back into his pants. When he spoke, his cold words sent a chill of disappointment through me.

"You'd better leave now."

THREE MONTHS LATER

It was eight in the evening when I made my way along East 57th Street towards the Four Seasons Hotel. My small shudder coincided with the chimes of a clock nearby striking eight. It wasn't the New York wind that made me quiver. Or the late Autumn cold.

It was the fact I was about to see the President again.

Except this time, the request had been mine.

I hadn't known if he would agree to the meeting. After all, three long months had passed since he'd fucked me in the Oval Office. Or more accurately, since I'd fucked him. The lack of subsequent contact had told me it had been a step too far. He was too embarrassed, annoyed, maybe even too frightened to see me again. Who could blame him?

I'd been able to contact him under the same pretext as the last time. I was a reporter for a woman's magazine, who wanted to follow up on the interview I'd conducted in the Oval Office. I'd spoken to the same secretary I'd met during my visit to the White House—Maggie—who had conveyed my request for a follow-up meeting to the President.

He had eventually agreed, reluctantly it appeared, and Maggie had been at pains to explain that the meeting would have to be while he was touring the country rather than back in the White House. His schedule, apparently, wouldn't allow anything else.

That was fine with me, at least I thought it was. As one of the country's high-class hookers, I was used to luxury hotels. Yet this time it was different, and not only because of the Presidential security that inhabited the place. It was different because I had asked to meet him. I knew he must be nervous, and only hoped he understood I didn't wish him any harm. I'd never do anything to harm him.

But after all that had happened between us ... well, it was only natural that he could be feeling vulnerable...

"Good evening," I murmured, as one of the security guards intercepted me as soon as I set foot inside the plush lobby.

"Good evening, Miss..." he replied curtly.

running his experienced eye across my body.

Unlike most men, it wasn't a look of admiration. This man, along with his colleagues scattered inside and around the hotel, was trained to look for the slightest thing that was out of place. I might be one of the hottest women he was ever likely to meet, but that changed nothing in his eyes.

"You're a resident at the hotel?"

I shook my head.

"I'm expected," I simply said.

When he gave me a quizzical look, I supplied him with the exact details Maggie had given me during our telephone call—my name, the name of the magazine I was representing, and a request for him to phone the President's secretary to verify that I was here for a meeting.

I watched him make his way back to the reception desk to make the phone call, and let my mind flicker over the catalogue of events that had led me here.

It had started with my relocation to America from England, and the subsequent journey that had seen me progress from model to escort to hooker. It had been a strange career path admittedly, but one I had fallen into knowingly and, until recently, one that I loved. Who could have guessed that I'd reach the very top of my profession so quickly?

Then there was the blow job I'd given the President on his birthday, followed two months later by—in my opinion, at least—the fuck of the century in the Oval Office.

And look where that had got me...

My initial meeting with the President had been intended as a one-off brief cameo at his birthday party. I'd been his gift for the night, his present, an 'object' there with a specific purpose. Yet there had definitely been some sort of connection on the night, otherwise why would he have asked to see me again.

It was difficult to believe that all this was really happening...

A deep voice in my ear made me jump. I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn't realised that my polite interrogator had returned to my side.

"You're expected, Miss. Please come with me."

----------

The elevator reached the top floor in seconds and opened into a small reception area as plush as the lobby I'd just left.

"You made it..." Maggie greeted me.

She'd been waiting for the elevator doors to open and this time she had a warm smile on her face. Our two conversations on the telephone had mellowed her.

"The security can be overpowering," she added, sharing a sympathetic look, "but it goes with the territory around here."

I wondered if she had any clue why I was there—female intuition was a powerful instinct, after all—but I instantly dismissed the thought. The President's reputation as an upright family man was unimpeachable. And strangely enough, despite our two illicit encounters, I had already recognised those qualities in him.

I had no doubt that he was a decent man and that knowledge only served to make me feel more special.

"He's waiting for you but doesn't have long," Maggie continued, pulling a contrite face. "Sorry, I did my best, but he has a long budget meeting after you leave."

She pressed a button under the desk and a door to our left unlocked with a soft click.

"There're as boring as hell so I'm relying on you to give him some light relief before he has to face the accountants," she added, lightly resting a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Please go in and up the stairs."

Light relief? The phrase made me smile. Maybe Maggie did know something after all?

Yet I had no idea what was about to happen over the next half an hour.

He had agreed to meet me but I didn't even know if he even wanted to see me again. Would his attitude have changed towards me? Then there was the point at issue. Was I going to tell him? Could I tell him?

The clicking of my heels registered every step as I made my way up the circular stairway. My heart thumping through my chest with every step. I'd never been so nervous in my life.

----------

The President was seated on a sofa at the far end of the room. His eyes found mine and I was grateful for the smile that briefly touched his lips as I entered.

"Hello Emma."

There was an edge to his voice that I couldn't quite place. And his expression was equally as difficult to read. He closed the file of papers on his knee and then began to tidy the documents scattered across the sofa as I dragged myself across the room towards him.

"I'm sure Maggie will have explained," he said, telling me that time was short without overtly saying the words. "It's that time of year and we have some budgets to agree."

"I understand," I breathed, trying to keep my voice steady.

I'd removed my coat on the journey up the stairs and his eyes briefly flickered across my figure before returning to my face. The surreptitious glance made me feel better. He had tried to control his gaze, I could see that, but he couldn't help himself from staring a little.

I'd chosen the green Sue Wong dress especially for him. The material clung to my curves and brought my tits into prominence. He liked my tits. No, he loved my tits. The President of the United States loved my tits. The realisation made shiver excitedly.

"I appreciate you agreeing to see me," I continued, standing there in front of him, waiting to be told to take a seat. "After last time ... well, I realise it went too far ... but I didn't want it to end like that. I wanted to see you one final time."

There, I'd said it. The words I'd rehearsed over and over again in my head. I'd actually been able to get them out. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my chest.

A look passed over his face. Pain? Regret? Confusion? Uncertainty?

"I'm not complaining," he slowly began, shooting me a tight-lipped smile at his attempted quip. "But yes, it did go too far. Everything went too far. I've been stupid, Emma, though that's nothing to do with you. In other circumstances, I'd be very happy to get to know you. But—"

He tailed off, unsure how to proceed. He didn't need to. I'd pretty much expected to hear what he'd told me, except for the compliment, that was. I'd come to learn that this man never said anything he didn't mean and his unexpected words meant everything to me.

Especially in the circumstances...

I felt the tears building along my mascara-lined lashes. Perhaps if I wasn't in the condition I was, this conversation wouldn't have been quite so difficult. It was my fault entirely, of course, but then I'd let myself get completely carried away.

"That's okay," I told him, sniffing a little to hold back the tears.

I hadn't expected the moment to be so emotional and I was struggling to cope. This wasn't very professional of me but I had more to say.

"We won't see one another again after tonight," I continued, taking a deep breath to help me finish the sentence, but still carefully observing his reaction. "But I needed to see you in person to explain that our secret is safe with me, and it always will be. You have nothing to fear from me, now or in the future. You have my word on that."

For a moment or two, he just stared up at me. It looked as if my words had taken him by surprise. Maybe they had. It was clear to me that the implications of our liaisons had been on his mind. They had to have been. His entire career and marriage were on the line if news leaked out. In his place, I would have worried about exactly the same thing.

Then he nodded solemnly and picked up his drink from the glass table in front of him. With another glance towards me, he threw back the remaining contents in one go. His face creased slightly as the bourbon burned his throat.

"Thank you," he simply said.