Politics Ch. 01byhal_tee©
Chapter 1: Beginnings
Erika Johansson smiled that all-knowing smile of hers. The twenty-five year old Swedish beauty was well aware of the contents of the package. Benni always sent the photos in a buff envelope. Watching the delivery boy leap back onto his motorbike, she pushed closed the deep red front door of her London Mews home, allowing a contented sigh to escape from her full lips.
Fixing a loose strand of her long, blonde hair behind her ear, the stunning Nordic woman ripped open the small parcel, tearing the buff paper in her haste. Keeping a recording together with pictorial evidence of all the young women she and her boyfriend seduced had become an obsession.
Boyfriend? She let out a deliciously throaty laugh at the word that passed through her mind. Yes, Alistair Brinkley-Jones was her boyfriend. He was also heir to the Brinkley-Jones fortune. And soon, the Conservative Party leader would be contesting a General Election.
Erika Brinkley-Jones had a nice ring to it. Wife to the first black Prime Minister, to the man who would eventually inherit millions! Okay, she was a long way from that position. Alistair had neatly sidestepped any overtures she'd made in that direction. That was fine – she could be patient.
That's how she'd reached her position in life after all. Marriage to a sixty-five year-old business magnate had set her up financially. Or, at least, the divorce had. Dennis Irwin had fallen for her charms, but hadn't been able to keep up with her sexual preferences. It was inevitable that they'd part ways. Many people had predicted it from the beginning.
After all, they said, he was a man old enough to be her grandfather! Erika was only too well aware of the reaction. After all, that was part of her plan, right? Only nineteen at the time of their marriage, she knew exactly what she was doing. It had been easy enough to trap the old fool. And it hadn't been that difficult to negotiate an acceptable divorce settlement. Getting him to agree there'd be no pre-nup had been the hardest part.
But then, he'd been captivated…
It hadn't just been the pre-nup, of course, that had led to Dennis being so generous. With so many incriminating photos, he had no choice. Should their sexual games be made public, hopes of the knighthood he so craved would be shattered. Game, set and match!
A slow smile spread across her sculptural face as she thought back to those times. Men really were such uncomplicated creatures. The smile widened as thought of the enjoyment she'd get watching the CD later. She flicked through the photographs, her tongue dancing across her full pink lips as she recalled her and Alistair's latest conquest.
Unfiltered and uncensored, the early shots showed off the innocent young blonde's nudity from all angles. The later photos were much more intense, the little slut's face contorted in ecstasy as Alistair fucked her, and then her eager head buried between Erika's golden thighs.
It had been her first time with a woman, and in truth, she hadn't been that good. But that was okay. It was the whole process of seduction that gave Erika as much enjoyment as the act itself. Turning an innocent into a bi-slut. It was her most favourite feeling in the world. And when she found one who suddenly discovered she'd been born to pleasure women…
God, the thought sent a shiver of excitement all the way to her sex. Though she and Alistair had already fucked that morning, she instantly decided that a second, quick fuck was required.
Gathering the video and photographs in her hand, she stooped to collect the ripped paper from the floor and then hurried through the long hallway, and up the stairs into the bedroom. Alistair was his usual self - rushing around the room as he dressed, worried about being late because of their early morning lovemaking session.
"Want to see the photos?" she drawled in that sexy Scandinavian accent, leaning in the doorframe and running a hand through her long, glossy hair. Yesterday's visit to the hairdresser's may have been expensive, but it had been more than worthwhile. Besides, money didn't matter.
"Don't have time," the forty-year-old black politician grunted, shifting uncomfortably at the dressing table chair as he peered into the mirror. He fastened his blue tie in smooth, practiced motions, meeting her eyes in the reflection. "I have a couple of meetings this morning, then have lunch with someone who's going to manage the rest of my campaign. Can't miss that."
"Thomas Kincaid?" she asked, stepping in behind him. She stroked one hand across his shirt-covered shoulder. "Yes, from what you've told me, he's just what we need."
What we need? One of Dennis's parting gifts at their divorce was an introduction to the Conservative Leader. She'd taken it with both hands, gradually inveigling her way into his affections. It hadn't been that difficult, the low cut top she'd worn to their first meeting had seen to that. His eyes had almost popped out. He'd been looking for a PA, and having carried out a similar role for Dennis, she'd been the perfect candidate.
One of the benefits of being Alistair's PA was that she had control of his diary. That often meant hastily rearranging a meeting when the need for sex overtook her. "But lunchtime is a long way off, darling," she continued, "And that first meeting is only with that boring Tom Broadhurst. Who wants to hear about his strategy for cleaning up the riverbanks, anyway?"
As the Scandinavian beauty spoke, she slowly perched her firm ass on the top of the dresser. The short, pinstripe skirt rode up her thigh, revealing a sliver of tanned skin above her nude coloured stockings. If that wasn't more enticing than the Deputy Secretary for the Environment…
Twisting a little on the dresser top as she got his attention, Erika dropped one photo on the glass top in front of her dark haired lover.
She loved the way he wore his hair slightly longer than he should, and swept it back in an uninhibited way. Her influence, of course. It made him stand out from all those boring politicians he had to deal with. That, and the fact he was black. It seemed that Barrack Obama's success in America had opened the door of acceptability. The country's first black Party leader could soon become the first black Prime Minister.
"More interesting than boring meetings, don't you think?" she teased, glancing down at the image of her and the girl engaged in a heated kiss. She watched his reaction, seeing the desire alight in his eyes like a match to kindling. Her skirt rode up as she uncrossed her legs. It had the desired effect. Alistair looked. Saw the garters holding her stockings up. That flame grew.
The politician felt his cock stir, but tried to push the feeling from his mind. He was already well behind schedule and the car sent to take him to campaign headquarters was due in ten minutes.
"Much more interesting," he answered with a rye smile. "But they'll be banging the door down if I don't get moving. I'll view them later."
"Really?" Erika responded, with one of her sexiest smiles. Her adorable light blue eyes promised so much when they looked at him that way. "Tell me," she continued, rolling her shoulders back and pushing her chest forward, "can you see my nipples in this blouse? That would never do…"
Alistair licked his lips as he surveyed the blonde woman's long body. God, he loved the freckles that dotted her face and ran down to cover her cleavage. Even as he watched, Erika was unbuttoning her white blouse, displaying the lacy white bra to his hungry gaze. Slipping to her feet, her skirt quickly followed, uncovering the thong that matched her sexy garter belt and bra.
She could see the indecision in his eyes. Another fuck, or his early morning meeting? The sexy way she unhooked her bra and allowed her full breasts to bounce free made his decision easier. Like many Scandinavian women, her tanned swells defied gravity, and her high, dark nipples pointed skywards.
With a grunt, he reached out for her.
"Hey," she playfully teased, pulling away from his grasping hands. She knew exactly what she was doing. Keep him wanting more! It was a technique that was second nature. "You don't have time. And I'm only changing because this might be too provocative for the macho men at Party Headquarters."
She felt his eyes burning into her as she headed across to the bed, dropping the photographs on the floor as she walked. Stripping the tiny thong down her legs, she crawled on the bed like a lioness surveying her kingdom. The sight of her naked, except for the stockings, never failed to turn him on.
"You know I'm flying to France later," she huskily murmured. "But I do have a nice surprise lined up for you tonight."
"Surprise?" He knew exactly what Erika's surprises consisted of.
"Oh yes," she replied, "don't want you frustrated while I'm away."
Stretching across the bed, one hand picked up the mobile phone and waved it in the air. The other was already rubbing her smooth pussy. "But for now, Alistair, want me to phone and delay the car and your appointment?"
The black politician hesitated for only a second before he began to rip off his tie and head for the bed.
Rebecca de Santos grinned down at her naked lover. Sex on the carpet, or anywhere else for that matter, made a wonderful change from bed. "So," she teased as she rubbed her wetness along his hard stomach. "You have lunch with the Conservative Party Leader. Wants to offer you a job, does he?"
Thomas Kincaid returned her smile. Right at that moment, he was interested in fucking, not talking, but he sensibly allowed his girlfriend to tease him in the way she so loved. The benefits of doing so were only a few seconds away.
"Well, Becky," he responded with a theatrical raise of his pale right eyebrow. "I guess he's heard how well I can service people."
"Is that right?" the raven haired beauty giggled, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his lips before straightening again. Her red fingernails dug into his smooth chest. "Think you can service me to my satisfaction?"
"Never had any complaints before," her golden haired boyfriend smiled, gripping his girlfriend's hips and attempting to force her body backwards and onto his cock.
Rebecca wasn't having any of it. She was the one in control, after all. Her deep brown eyes stared into his. "Hey, buster," she responded, squeezing her knees either side of his thighs to keep him in the position she wanted. "Let me see. You'll be wining and dining, and hobnobbing with the next Prime Minister of England, while I'm putting the 'girls' through their paces at the aerobics class? Doesn't seem fair?"
Thomas grunted as she rubbed her toned ass back along the length of his cock. Everything about the aerobics instructor's body was hard and fit.
"You…" he began, stopping himself as another low moan involuntarily escaped his lips. "You know you prefer taking that class," he mumbled. "In fact, I'm beginning to suspect that you love that class more than me."
"Oh, you're on to us, huh? Damn…" she laughed. It was almost true. Rebecca loved her work, and was exceptionally good at it too. He'd once made the mistake of attending one, just for fun. Despite his keeping himself pretty fit, he'd ached for days afterwards.
The Brazilian beauty raised both eyebrows. It was that look of hers that told Thomas it was time. Their conversation was at an end. Without another word, she eased herself backwards and with that delicious gasp she always gave at entry, sank down onto his hard cock.
Throwing her wavy, raven coloured hair back so that it bounced on her shoulders, the twenty-two year old thrust her breasts outward. They looked especially inviting the way they half peeked out from below the red tee shirt, pulled up around the top of her chest. There was just enough visible to remind him of their pear like shape, and the bullet hard brown nipples looked like they were begging to be sucked.
"Like what you see?" she teased, watching his eyes glued to her wonderfully full swells as they gently bounced.
She raised her hands and ran her fingers into her wavy locks, maintaining the pose as she slowly and gently undulated on his hardness. When her eyes began to cloud, they both knew she was feeling it…
Time for action.
Dropping a hand to his chest, she ground down harder onto his glistening cock. "Look," she ordered, pausing to allow his gaze to sweep down to their union. Beneath her dangling belly piercing, her smooth labial lips stretched lewdly around his thick girth.
Thomas groaned in appreciation as he ran his palms along her athletic, dark brown legs. He loved her natural sexiness, so comfortable with her body. His fingers stroked her slim legs as the sight of his cock disappearing inside her cleanly shaved pussy intoxicated his mind. God, she was sexy!
"You like?" she softly asked, in that husky accent.
The golden haired young man nodded, feeling his mouth suddenly grow dry. Being an aerobics instructor, she was in perfect shape. Being Brazilian, she was fiery. It was an irresistible combination.
His fingernails dug into her flesh.
Her hips began to respond to his touch, thrusting down and up again in perfect rhythm. She undulated on the cream coloured carpet, driven on by the feelings inside her hotness and the moans she was eliciting from her lover with each down-thrust. She was a wild, uninhibited animal, rutting down on him in long, powerful movements.
Thomas grunted as he thrust up into her, doing his best to meet each powerful undulation. It wasn't easy. Only their grunts and the slapping of their flesh filled the small living area.
"Ngh," he gasped as she leant forward, allowing him to cup the breasts that were now fully exposed. It was a prelude to her orgasm. She loved having her breasts pleasured when she was on the verge. He loved it too - the way her eyes closed and her face creased. In those moments just before she came, he always felt an extra surge inside his balls.
Thomas kneaded both swells, gently at first, and then harder. "Yes…" she moaned. He flicked his thumb across her erect, brown nipples. Her body shuddered. She gasped - something in Portuguese – her body going stiff. "Uh—" she half-gasped, as the orgasmic tide began to sweep through her.
"Yes… oh, yes…" Thomas encouraged, ramming himself upwards inside her one final time.
As she exploded, the raven-haired beauty's head fell forward, her silken waves bouncing as they covered her face. Thomas gripped her hips as her body trembled and jerked. Her face dropped to bury itself in his shoulder. She continued to roll her hips along his length, maximising every one of the small electrical currents still running through her.
Eventually, her breathing returned to normal. His turn now.
Thomas rolled her onto her back, positioning his knees inside her spread legs. He was grateful that the shag pile would minimise his discomfort. His knees and elbows were still red from yesterday's session on the bathroom floor.
Rebecca wrapped her long legs around his back, pulling him closer. "Fuck me, Thomas," her husky tone encouraged, her tongue licking around his ear and neck as she groaned out the words. He could feel the firmness of her breasts on his chest. He could feel her nipples digging into his flesh.
He took her hard and fast, the pent up adrenalin inside him driving him to the relief he badly needed. As he felt himself move closer, he drilled harder. She tossed her head left and right, like a porn star being fucked on screen. "Uhhh, uhhh…" she moaned. "Harder… harder!"
Sweat dripped from his forehead as he responded. Grunts escaped his mouth with each driving thrust. Their eyes met for a second, then Thomas was scrunching his closed, gritting his teeth, as his release closed in.
Recognised the signs, Rebecca tightened her legs around his waist and dug her heels into his heaving ass. "Cum now, Thomas... cum for Becky..."
He pushed up on his elbows, steadying himself as the thick, creamy cum surged from his balls, through his shaft. He jerked forward, a sweaty beast hulking over his prey, and exploded inside her.
The feel of his seed peppering her insides triggered her second orgasm. The Brazilian beauty dug her sharp fingernails into his shoulder blades and her heels into his back, lifting her athletic frame from the rug, as if this was one of the more extreme exercises from her aerobics class.
He pumped in and out even as he spent, forcing as much of his manjuice from him and into the sucking beauty. Rebecca responded in kind, gripping him tightly as, for a few final moments, they continued to buck and jerk.
"Hurry home from your meeting with your politician," she eventually whispered, her pearly white teeth biting down on his earlobe. Her aerobic sessions always left her craving sex. "I haven't finished with you yet."
Every day in recent months, the old man in the out-of-place café on the corner of Mayfair and Park Lane had watched the same scene unfold. For the few customers ordering their morning breakfast sandwiches, talk was of the forthcoming General Election. For the South American, British politics was the last thing on his mind.
He licked his thin lips in anticipation of the sight that was coming his way. The cold London winter was over, replaced by the early shoots of Spring. He loved the sudden change in temperature. Gone were the heavy coats and long boots. The women of England's capital finally began to unveil their wonderful bodies. Sexy, tight tops, short skirts, plenty of cleavage. Thank God for Spring - and soon it would be summer! He licked his lips again.
Wiping a dark hand across his brow, the sixty-five year old handed his breakfast order to a young City gent, but all the time keeping his eyes on the silver car. Then it happened.
The pair of long, sculptured legs appeared…
Their owner, a pale brunette, emerged from her Mercedes with all the grace of a gazelle. But then, she'd done the same for the past few months. The old man's window overlooking her parking place gave him the perfect view, and he made sure he took advantage. God, Miss Katie was sexy.
The immaculately tailored dark skirt rucked up for the moment on the leather seat of the car. It was what the South American had been waiting for. In the heaviest winter cold, she'd worn trousers as part of the suit. Then a long skirt, slit generously to mid calf. Now, the skirt was much shorter.
As it caught on the seat, it allowed the watching man a clear view of her sexy, black stocking tops and the bare skin above. She'd been his masturbatory fantasy for months now.
He ignored a customer request as he silently watched through the long window. Despite his age, notwithstanding his nationality, there was something about the way Miss Katie looked at him that told him that, given the right circumstances…
"In a minute," he snapped at his young customer as he repeated his order. There was plenty of time to heat the requested croque-monsieur sandwich. He wasn't going to miss a second of the sight unfolding.
Stepping out of the car, Katie Nichols took her time as she ran both of her hands over her pert ass, smoothing the errant skirt back in place. Her cheeky smile across at the old man told him she knew he was watching, and that she was happy enough giving him his usual morning treat.
He sighed in admiration, pushing back the cloth cap on his head into a slightly jauntier angle. Feeding the croque-monsieur into his microwave, his eyes never left the woman as he poured a coffee into the takeaway cup.
The change in the temperature meant that she kept her suit jacket in the back of the car. Not more than fifteen yards away, he took his time drinking in the generous breasts that pushed against the cream blouse, admiring the way they bounced deliciously as she moved. He was never quite sure whether she wore a bra. The suit jacket she took from the rear of the vehicle tapered down from her athletic shoulders to her deliciously slim waist.