Mando Bk. 03: General Badass Ch. 12

"You've got the floor, sir."    

"The polls favor two candidates with different strengths. But what if it weren't a choice at all? What if they could have both?"    

Jillian frowns in bewilderment. "Both, professor? Like President and Vice president?"    

He laughs. "No, they have those already. The question is, who would America elect if they had a choice of either the General or Travis as President or Travis as President and the General as the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff since the current one is ready to retire?"    

Jillian stutters. "P-P-professor, is that even possible? Would the candidates be willing to do such a thing?"    

He shrugs. "America would have both political and military strength in one administration. Each individual's skill compliments the others and gives America the image and capabilities they want."    

"Yes, but would they be willing to do that? One candidate has to drop out and accept the potential appointment, right?"    

His expression is somber but bright. "We're talking about an election, Jillian. They'll respond to what the voters want if they are certain what the voters want. That's why I want all states to respond, but we'll pay attention to the key states first, and look at the others as support."    

Jillian shakes her head. "I'm not sure what you are doing professor. What are you doing?"    

"I am asking the public which they prefer, Shawn Travis as President, General Marino  as President, or both as a team; Shawn Travis to lead the country and General Marino   to be the chief Military advisor. If this were possible, would they want that?"    

Suddenly she has a profound thought. "Wait a moment, Professor, has General Marino  agreed to such a proposal?"    

He shakes his head. "No. I have not posed the question to either candidate because there is no need to ask unless the voters want it. Isn't that fair? The two candidates make the final decision. Will one appoint the other, and will the other accept?"    

Jillian relaxes. "Okay, I see it now. Ask the voters if they want one individual or the other, or both as a team. If they say, team, then the two candidates can take it under advisement and make their own decision. Correct?"    

He nods with satisfaction. "Exactly."    

"That's great! Now tell the voters what to do."    

He points at the screen, and it comes on showing a drop-down menu, three blank lines with a notation in front, and three questions with a box for a check mark beside each one.    

He looks into the camera's face. "Voters, go to the website written on the screen. Select your state, list your full name, Social Security number, and date of birth. This will make you eligible to choose a reply to a question, giving you only three choices. The screen to the left will keep score. Ready, set, go!"    

Five seconds later the screen comes to life and numbers click and change faster than a chicken can peck corn. The professor and Jillian can't keep their eyes off the whirring, changing numbers. The numbers for each state climb so fast they are like one unbroken line. I must admit, I'm mesmerized.    

"Good lord, Professor, the voters are as anxious as we are to know where America stands."    

The Professor is all smiles and grins. "Yes, seeing American Democracy at work is exciting,"    

The host readily concurs. "That is unquestionable. While we wait for the tally, let's watch some interviews." The picture switches to a short female reporter, interviewing a tall, dark-skinned man wearing a colorful Coogi Cardigan sweater. "Hi, sir. Please tell me your name and vocation."    

"My name is Charles Wilkins, and I am a professor of economics at Harvard University."    

"What is your reaction to the professor's proposal and questions?"    

The young black American flashes a wide smile while bobbing and nodding his handsome head. "Love it. The team is the way to go. We get the best of both worlds. They have my votes."    

Local TV stations conduct rapid interviews in each swing state, including Ohio, Virginia, Nevada, Florida, Colorado, and Iowa, with a cross-section of citizens. The cross-section of voters fairly represents all socioeconomic, racial, religious, and gender groups of voters. The time melts unnoticed as the interviews jump quickly all over the country.    

Jillian and the Professor watch the answer pop up beside each state's tally.  The Key states are listed first.    

Jillian's jeweled hands fly to her face. "Oh, my! Oh dear me! I'm surprised it is so one-sided."    

The professor grins. "Astounding. Isn't it?

She blinks three times rapidly. "I'm flabbergasted. After you introduce a brand new idea, I expect our voters to need more time to think about it and discuss. But I was dead wrong. They are decisive without hesitation. And look; the numbers are still climbing like gangbusters. How long will the site remain up, Professor?"    

"I'll leave the site up for sixteen hours, but most voters will log in within the first four. Look, we've already reached our percentage in sixty percent of the states. I'll identify the swing states when the vote is closed so as not to influence the vote."    

I know the swing states are the first twelve listed, with the first six being the key ones. They are Colorado, Florida, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Ohio, Nevada, New Hampshire, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Wisconsin. The third candidate has to be furious because the poll biased the vote by excluding him on the list. His popularity will drop drastically after this, but we must do it  this way to prevent confusion and skewing the votes."    

Gino is out of town, so I call him. "Hi Gino, are you watching the tally on the telly?"    

"No, I'm still in a meeting. What's the temperature in the swing states?"    

"It's a runaway and still running in favor of the team. All states are heavy on the team. It'll be no contest. It's expected for us to team up now, and it'll be the voter's idea. Shrewd, these campaign and PR people, aren't they?"    

"Indeed. You're not dropping out, you are just doing what the voters' asked you to do, and it's a vote of confidence. Brilliant."    

I hang up, and the phone buzzes. "Hello, General Hogue. Did you call to gloat?" I tease.    

He laughs. "No, just to tell you I told you so. How do you feel about leaving the presidency to someone else?"    

"Relieved. I'm much happier as a General, but I enjoyed my independence before Morocco and Italy," I admit and chuckle.    

"You can make your own hours and keep up your training. You'll even have time to train another team member to take the pressure off you."    

I smile. "Been thinking about that. General, tell me bluntly; do you want to retire?"    

"No, but my two, two-year terms are coming to a close. But what can I do but stand down and watch your smoke." I can almost see him shrug and grin.    

"There's nothing to keep you away from the Pentagon when you want, and besides, I'll need your advice on matters until I can solo."    

"Solo? Shit girl, you got those wings before we met. You proved that in the boxing ring and then in the Marines."    

"Thanks, General. What's next?"    

"Tomorrow the press will interview each candidate to determine your willingness to cooperate. The following day we'll do a press conference."    

"Sounds good. Thanks for this, General. If I must stay in government, military leadership is the real me." I'm smiling.    

WHAP! A realization hits me in the face like a wet towel. My eyes spring wide, and surprise and awe scribble themselves on every inch of my face. "Wait for a second, General. Did you plan this all along? Is this the reason for the five stars? So they will accept me without challenge or question because I outrank all others?"    

His laugh is boisterous. "Seems you aren't the only military strategist, wouldn't you say?"    

"Military nothing, that strategy is political, and absolutely brilliant,"    

Pride emanates from his voice. "Truth is, General President, I'm proud of this and I'm proud of you. Now I have one more little thing to do before I retire."    

"Uh, should I worry, or pry?"    

"General Ballinger is ready to retire, so his spurs will go to another Marine General."    

"The Marine General Joint Chief is retiring?? When?"    

"Soon; before you take my spot."    

I know where he's headed and catch my breath. "General Sterling? Dad? My god, General, would that be kosher?"    

"If it happens before you're in charge, it will be, but you will be out of office then, and your term as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs begins several months later." He pats my hand. "You'll be out of sight and in the clear."    

This sounds nice. "So, I don't have to approve or rubber stamp it, or even see the paperwork?    

"Not if we make the official announcement  after your term and before your appointment," he reiterates.    

I'm relieved. "No nepotism, then?"

"None. Some may claim it is, but we joint chiefs know better. The Joint Chiefs chose your father based solely upon qualifications and reputation, and nothing else."    

"Does Dad know about this?" I ask.    

"Yes, but the discussion took place before he knew you might be the Chairman. Hell, as president you'd be his boss, anyway." His chuckle echoes in my ear.    

"Wow! General, you are a mover and a shaker. You won't retire, just work offline, that's all." I can feel my body relax. I'm ecstatic about my Father's promotion.    

His chuckle is light, and his answer is modest. "'I suppose you're right. Anyway, congratulations, General President."    

"Um, Sir?"    

"Yes?"    

"If you'd like to stay close to the action, As the Chairman Emeritus you can continue to occupy your home. We're building a home, so there's no need for you to move unless you want to."    

"Splendid. If there's one thing I hate, it's moving. Thank you, General President." He clears his throat. "Tell me something, how do you expect the terrorist groups to respond to this change from presidential candidate to Chairman of the Joint Chiefs?    

"Been thinking about that since we started on this track."    

"And? Will they retaliate?"    

"No, they'll take their time, get out of the limelight as failures, and plan something big in a few years. However, as a precaution, we're putting subdermal GPS trackers in the Hawks, and in the family members who are willing. NSA will assist monitoring for now, but I'll have a satellite up soon and can monitor them after that. Hawks have mini-spy cams and voice recorders they will activate when abducted.    

"Great. I'm glad you're proactive on this, but it would surprise me if you weren't.   Oh! Does your father know about your alter ego?"

I shake my head even though he can't see me. "No, General. Need to know and all that."

"Yes, but it'll come up among the joint chiefs when a crisis raises its snout. Do you reckon it might be better to hear it from you first?"

"Not sure. If you think it is important for him to know, let's keep it on a professional level instead of a family secret.  Invite him to coffee at the white house and you tell him in my presence. If he wants mom to know he'll tell her."

"That's a reasonable approach. I'll have my secretary coordinate with yours for a date and time. If there's nothing else I'm off.

"I'm done. Bye General, and thanks for your leadership and guidance through this political quagmire."

"Don't mention it. Bye."

***    

Gino comes home three hours later. After we play hard he drifts off to sleep. An hour sneaks by, and I'm still awake. Heck with this wreck. If I can't sleep, I'll have company. "Hey, stud."    

He raises his head off his pillow, wipes the sleep from his eyes and gives a groggy response like a frog croaking. "Yes, Honey Bun."    

"We've had one hell of a ride since we hooked up, haven't we?" I snuggle under his arm and rest my head on his chest.    

"Yep, and it's still ripping and roaring.'    

"Gino?" I poke him again.    

"Hum?"    

"Have I told you lately that I love you and your cock?"    

"No, not since last night. I was going through withdrawal. Thank you for the fix. I needed it," he mumbles into the pillow.    

His words make me smile. "I love you both. And you know what else?"    

"Uh-uh."    

"I am proud to be Mrs. Marino. I think we're both eggs."    

"Eggs?" Now both of his eyes are open and looking at me like I've gone mad.    

I chuckle and tickle him in the ribs. "Yes, like you said you were once. Eggs can't wait to get laid."    

He returns the tickles and says in his Zen voice he uses for parables and pithy sayings. "Ah yes; obsessed with getting laid, aren't they? Eggs have self-fulfilling prophecies and are smart shoppers."    

I'm hooked. "Smart shoppers?"    

I get his "gotcha" grin. "They're always buying things on the lay-a-away plan. They'd rather get laid than paid."    

I cackle like a happy hen. "And the problem is..."    

He kisses my eyebrows, nose, and then lips. "None that I can see, because we can play those problems away and lay them to rest with enough screwing around, fucking up, diving down, driving deep, and mouthing off. Do all that, and I'll lay odds on having the problem licked."    

I crack up and laugh hard enough to give my ribs hairline fractures. "We'll have the problem licked, dicked, sucked and fucked; that's a promise."    

Our giggle fits lead to tickle attacks. We tire after a few attacks, but are still wired. We lapse into silence while our breathing catches up with us.    

Gino's voice floats a few words among our heavy breathing. "Want to know something from my heart, Honey Bunny?"    

"Oh yes. Tell me, tell me."    

"I love you and your kitty cat, too."    

A mischievous grin brings a giggle that tickles my throat. I thump him playfully on the chest. "You better, after I saved your life, watched you die, and you saved mine. We've got too much invested in each other to not love and be loved forever." I kiss him passionately and lean back. "I have an idea."    

"I usually like your ideas. Will I like this one?"    

"Undoubtedly. Absolutely. Positively. Guaranteed."    

"Good. Tell me."

I act shy and whisper, "Let's fuck."    

"Let's not."    

I pout. "Why not? It's not like you to refuse sex."    

He grins, plops and fluffs three pillows against the head bedstead of our wrought iron bed, scoots up and leans his back against it. He claps his hands twice and holds out his arms in "come to me" fashion. "Come here you. I didn't say I didn't want sex, I just said I don't want to fuck."    

I wrinkle my nose and frown. "What then?"     

Anal sex anyone?"    

"Me, me! Pick me!" I hop up and race toward the bathroom. "I'll go get the KY-Jelly." I'm back in a flash and tumble on the bed and take the puppy dog position.    

"Time for the back door visitor." He begins by massaging my buttocks to relax me. If he plans on parking that semi in my Volkswagen garage my sphincter and abdominal muscles must relax and be pliable. Otherwise, I'll have an ass so tight we'd back off to avoid heavy duty pain and then we'll sulk.

He takes his time. Massaging my bum is foreplay for him. By the time his cock is like a rock I am relaxed. He lathers Sir Lotsa Cock and eases it in a little, pauses, then little more and pauses again to give my body time to adjust to something big entering instead of exiting. When my body knows it won't get hurt, all tenseness evaporates. I relax and love the sensation. I love anal sex. Not only do I have bigger climaxes later, but the anus has so many sensitive nerve endings that sometimes I climax from that alone without playing with my clit. Anal climaxes don't jump in every time, but I love it when they do.    

Since the nerve endings are at the door, his dick doesn't have to go in far. Eight inches is no better than four inches. But hell; nothing beats the sensation of his hips slapping my ass with each thrust. He's still taking it easy. A little pressure and relax; more pressure, relax; pressure, relax; going deeper each time. I feel the stretch, but he's so gentle the little pain added to the experience. My butt is waking up and almost ready for my favorite part; fucking.    

OK! I'm ready for the big time. "Gino, let's become missionaries so I can see your face." I flip over on my back for the missionary position and he stuffs two pillows under my butt and slides between my legs. Then he grabs my thighs just above the knees and pushes my legs up and back toward my head until the anus is at the best  angle. I like to see my lover and kiss while we make love. It's more intimate than puppy loving in the doggy position, but hey, sometimes I want it wild and rough like doggies do. But there's one thing that doggy bitches do that I don't. They go into heat once a year, but I stay in heat three hundred sixty-five days a year. Maybe even three hundred sixty-six.    

He's making each stroke smooth, slow, and easy at first. In slow and out slow. He is wonderful. "Gino let me coat your rod and staff with more lube so you can rev those engines."    

He pulls out, and I lather his cock. "OK, big boy, it's time to race, so let's pick up the pace." He is sensitive, sensual, and sexy as he increases the speed and tempo. My anus loves the attention, and the rest of me adores the myriad of sensations blooming and swaying in a breeze of bliss.    

"Danny, tell me when the speed is right."    

"Keep climbing slowly, baby." The tingling, pressure, and feeling of his cock sliding in and out in a slow rhythm keep me in a state of sweet euphoria. He increases his speed every fourth stroke until he reaches the perfect tempo. My body and nerves scream in exhilaration as each orgasm takes me to places a fake, strap-on cock can never do. The back tunnel is tight but his lubricated cock slides and glides in and out; awakening every nerve and pleasure center it touches causing sensations of tingling, fiery vibrations of breathtaking pleasure. I tell him what I want, "Faster, Gino, harder, deeper!   Oh yeah!    Pound that ass! Go-go-go!

    He revs his engines, shifts into haul ass gear, and pops the clutch.

Ohhhhhhhh-Geeeeinoooo! Yes-yes-yes-yes! His hips slap my ass  faster than hands can clap. Clap-clap-clap- Bam-bam-bam. Slam-slam-slam.! "Yeah baby! Spank my ass with your hips! Drive hard and dive deep!"

  He does.

"Faster! Harder!   Deeper!" He's fucking me so hard my teeth rattle. He's at machine gun speed. "Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat! It's like he's saying, take-take-take-that-that-that! 

The dam burst.

Hot anal sex always precedes vaginal sex for us. It takes more time, sets me up for bigger and better climaxes, and is superb foreplay. This kinky bit of business is more for my pleasure than my lover's until I tell him to take out all stops and press the pedal to the metal.

I want him to stimulate all the nerves surrounding my rectum. "Gino, rotate your cock in a circle while thrusting in and out. He does this either by gyrating his hips, or by manipulating his cock in circular movements with his hand. Yes! He is dead on target, "OOOOOHHH. Perfect, perfect, PERFECT."    

He's thrusting at medium speed while gyrating his hips and cock in circles instead of fucking me with a straight thrust. The more he stimulates those nerve endings, the closer I am to a climax. I know the first orgasm is usually a small one. I can't wait for the next one because it will bring on the thunder and lightning.    

Time to maximize my pleasure by barking orders. "Pound, puppy, pound! Get wild, go crazy Tiger; pump and paw! Spank my ass with your hips and turn your cock into a pile driver. Harder! Faster! Go! Go! Go!"    

Whoa! My ass is getting a firmer grip on his cock and goes into a tumultuous battlefield enactment. BOOM! POW! BANG!