Miss Tuscaloosa

Now, of course, we didn'thave sex ed back then, and certainly not in Alabama, and so I admit I was a little scared by the thought of that big thing going up inside me. But I was really wet and horny, and having him in my throat and between my tits just made me want him inside me all the more. So I reached down and spread my lips with one hand, used the other to aim his cock right for my hole, and just -- sat on it.

It felt just amazing. More and more of him went into me, and by the time there was no more to go in, when I was sitting on him, I felt so full of cock I could hardly move. But I did move. We both moved. We kind of rocked back and forth to drive him in and out of me, and it felt so incredibly good.

I have to ask you: are you a virgin? No? Well, then you know what I'm talking about.

We just fucked like that for a long time, me gently riding him, no rough stuff, just slow and soft. Then I wanted something harder, so I got off of him and down on all fours. I spread my legs and looked back at him between them. I must have really looked like something -- here I was, boobs swaying, pussy all wet, giving him a come-and-fuck-me look.

So he knelt behind me and slid his cock into my cunt, all at once. I was so wet and he was so hard, it just went right in. He held onto my waist and started fucking me hard, his belly slapping against my ass as we fucked. This was what I wanted, I was so hot I didn't care. I started to come, little explosions going off in my cunt, my clit, my mind. It was the most incredible fuck I'd had in my entire life.

And then he stopped, and pulled out. I looked back at him and snarled something -- I don't remember what it was, but it couldn't have been nice. But then he took two fingers, dipped them in my pussy to get them nice and wet, then gently pushed them into my ass.

Now I don't know about you, but even in the Bible Belt, people know about cornholing. When I was a teenager and discovered the wonderful world of masturbation, I tried putting a finger up my ass a couple of times, but never really got into it. But now here I was, on my hands and knees, with the President of Freedonia about to ass-fuck me.

I expected him to just shove it in, maybe breaking me in two, but he was very gentle about it. He let my ass get used to having my fingers inside, he wiggled them around a little to see how much room there was in there. Then he took his fingers out, put his cock back into my cunt for a second, just to get it really wet and slick, then pulled out and oh so slowly slid it into my ass.

Have you ever had a man fuck you in the ass? You don't want to answer that, that's OK. It feels so different than getting fucked, you know, the usual way. It fills you up so much, even more than in your pussy. Sure, it felt strange for a few minutes, then it really started feeling good.

Anyway, he started fucking my ass slowly and carefully, trying not to hurt me. He put up one leg, so he was on one knee and one foot as he fucked in and out of me. I reached back and started playing with myself, fiddling my clit and swishing a finger in and out of my cunt. And as weird as it sounds, I started to come in my ass. Maybe I was just so turned on that I was coming in my pussy and feeling it in my ass. But I was definitely coming.

I couldn't help it, I started crying out, pushing my head into the blankets on the bed, trying really hard not to make so much noise the bodyguards would come in. Wouldn't that be a sight? Then I took my ass muscles and just gripped his cock hard, really hard. I wouldn't let it go, and that set him off. He gasped and groaned as he shot off inside me, wave after wave of come. It felt so incredible, him coming in my ass, me coming in my cunt.

And he kept coming! Poor boy, his balls must have been bluer than Old Blue Eyes. You know, Sinatra. Anyway, that must have been his first come in a year, because he just went on shooting more and more sperm into me. He finally ran out and almost fell out of me, panting and gasping.

I nuzzled up to him and we cuddled on the bed. I played with his chest hair while he played with my nipples. Then I asked him, in my most disarming Southern accent, "So, what's a nice President like you doing in a hotel like this?"

And he started talking. He told meeverything -- why he was in town, who he was here to see, what they were going to talk about, what he was going to do when he got back home. I think it's because men can't think after they fuck, all that blood goes from the brain to the cock. But he spilled out everything every reporter in town had been trying to get.

Well, everythingelse, anyway.

So I listened, taking everything in, and we snuggled some more until he dozed off. And at just the moment he started snoring, I sneaked out of bed, put my clothes back on, and grabbed some paper and pencils from the writing desk. I jotted down a few quick notes, just to keep my train of thought, before I slipped out of the room past the bodyguards. If they wondered why I took so long just to drop off some towels, they didn't mention it.

I ducked into a stairwell and expanded my notes somewhat, not writing a full article, but getting enough stuff down so that actually writing the article would be no trouble. Then I got on the service elevator and went back down to Housekeeping, got my own clothes back from the locker where I left them, and got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

I almost ran back to theClarion offices, stopping only when one of my heels broke off. No big deal, I just broke the heel off the other shoe and kept going. I could always buy more shoes, but the story couldn't wait.

I blew right past the guard and headed for the elevator, going right up to the newsroom. By now, it was early evening and some of the staffers were starting to go home. But Tom was still there, shouting into the phone about something or other, and I walked right into his office, shoved the papers under his nose, and said, "I got the story. Where's my typewriter?"

Poor guy, he looked like that coyote in the cartoons when he realizes the road runner got away again. He hung up the phone without saying anything to the unfortunate guy on the other end, looked at the papers and back at me. "God damn, Miss Tuscaloosa," he finally said with a smile, "you really did it." He pointed me to an empty desk with a typewriter on it. "Now type this up into something readable and get it down to the printers. You're going on the front page!"

"Wait a minute," I interrupted. "We had a deal about a job!"

"Hell, I know that," he said. "I keep my word." He stuck out his hand and shook mine firmly. "Miss Tuscaloosa, welcome to theClarion. You're my newest city beat reporter. Now get to work!"

I lit up with the world's biggest smile. "Yes, sir!" I grabbed my notes back from him, threw myself in front of the typewriter, and began to type my first -- but not my last -- front-page exclusive...

***

"And that," said Doris as she leaned back in her booth, "is how I got my start at theClarion." She refilled her glass with the white wine the younger woman had ordered halfway through her story. "The Freedonians were pretty pissed. I mean, it was kind of obvious how I had gotten the story, but because the President was married and his wife was back home in Freedonia, they decided to just let it go and not make a stink over it." She smiled. "Tom and I got married a few years later, of course. Everyone said I was the only woman who could get the better of him."

"Did he ever find out how you got the story?" Heather asked.

"He did," Doris Burkhalter Fitzgerald nodded. "On our wedding night, we were lying in bed next to each other and he asked me. Now by then, there wasn't really any point in keeping it from him. After all, we were safely married, so I told him the whole story, every bit of it."

"What did he say?"

Doris grinned. "He couldn't decide whether to get really jealous or really horny. I think he eventually flipped a coin." Her expression became wistful as she sipped the wine. "We were together for thirty-eight years. He had a stroke at his desk one morning." She looked straight at the younger woman. "You know, aside from Tom, I think you're the only other person to whom I've ever told that story."

Heather sipped her own wine and said nothing as Doris gazed back in time. But deep within her, she was churning in heat. The story had affected her a lot more than she let on; her nipples were erect and her pussy was moist. She had to do something about it.

She pulled a twenty out of her purse and left it on the table. "Thank you so much, Ms. Fitzgerald," she said as she shook the older woman's hand. "Thank you for spending so much time with me."

Doris seemed to wake up out of a trance at Heather's words. "Anytime, Heather," she said. "Good luck at theClarion. Remember: don't ever let someone say you can't do it because you're a woman!"

"Never," Heather said confidently. With a last handshake, she rose and left the bar, making her way back to theClarion offices. Past the doorman, into the elevator, out at the seventh floor, and a right turn to the ladies' room.

Locking herself into a stall and drawing her legs up on the toilet seat, she extracted from her purse a small pink plastic vibrator. She hiked up her skirt and pushed her sheer panties aside as she teased her wet cunt lips with the vibrator, then turned it on. She sensed the throbbing, felt rather than heard its barely audible humming as she ran the tip around the entrance to her pussy, then slid it inside her. The pulses set her nerve endings on fire, running up and down her clit.

"Oh yes," Heather moaned, lost in the images in her mind. "Yes, Mr. President..."