What This Country Needs

Johnny and Salli nodded in agreement.

"That means all of you," added the senator, pointing his fingers at the volunteers. "All of you have to behave according to those precepts when you're representing the campaign!"

"Arguing that lots of sex will make us a strong nation?" asked a woman in her forties.

"Of course," answered Chet.

"Sex on demand? In public?" asked a miniskirted co-ed.

"Absolutely," said Senator Winslow.

"Frank appreciation for feminine beauty? Especially tits?" asked a pimply young man.

Salli stood up and walked to the young man, boobs a-bouncing. She leaned over his face. "Yes."

The young man said something that sounded like "Count me in." But it was hard to make out the words through the tit flesh.

"Oh! And Senator?" squeaked a cute redhead. "I think the campaign should pay for boob jobs for all of us. Think of the show of strength!"

"I am thinking," said Johnny with a dreamy, faraway look in his eye.

"Consider it done," said Chet.

A cheer rose from the group as they took to the streets.

--------------------------------------

"Boss, you seen this in the paper?" said Phil 'The Ferret'.

"Yeah," laughed Sammy "The Snake". "I like that Salli girl's titties. Don't you? Wonder if they'll get elected?"

"I think they just might, boss," answered Phil, "and that's bad for us. And bad for the Families."

"Why?" asked Sammy. "Sex for a Stress Free America sounds like fun."

"But boss, why would any American guy pay for a whore when the law says women gotta put out whenever the guy wants?" pleaded Phil.

"I din't think of that," admitted the boss.

"And if no one pays for prostitution, there goes a big part of our business!" Phil pointed out.

"You're right, this ain't good," agreed Sammy. "You get the powers that be on the phone. See what we can do to defeat this Winslow-Webb ticket. And Phil?"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Maybe we get further by goin' in the front door. You know, doin' it legit," suggested the boss. "Find out if there's some credible group that wants Winslow-Webb to lose. We'll help 'em."

"Okay, boss," said Phil.

-----------------------------------

"Council of Churches," said the receptionist.

"Lissen," said a sniveling voice on the telephone. "I gotta talk to the head man."

"That would be the Reverend," said the receptionist. "Who shall I say is calling?"

"Just say it's Phil the Ferret," said the voice.

"Mister Ferret for the Reverend. Right away, sir," said the receptionist.

The phone rang on the Reverend's expensive oak desk.

"Hello?" said the Reverend, a square-jawed man in his early sixties. "What can I do for you?"

"It's what I can do for you, Rev," said the sniveler. "You don't want the ladies' man and the big-tit girl to win the White House, am I right?"

"Yes," said the Reverend. "Who is this?"

"Never mind. We don't want 'em to win, either, and we think we can help each other," said the voice.

"Who are you and who do you represent?" demanded the Reverend.

"The Families," said the voice, cryptically.

"Well, nothing is more important to the fabric of American life than the family," said the Reverend. "How can we work together? Should we meet?"

"Tonight," insisted Phil. "How about at the Titillation Topless Club?"

"No, no!" shouted the Reverend. "Here, at our Church Fellowship Hall."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"We'll compromise," said Phil. "Mama D'Angelo's Ristorante. Seven o'clock."

"I look forward to seeing you, friend," said the Reverend. "We must defeat this rampant fornication!"

"This what? Oh, the guy and the big girl! Right, right," muttered Phil. "Whatever you say, Rev."

-----------------------------

"Okay, Chet," said Senator Johnny Winslow. "Give me the progress report! How is the campaign going?"

"Fabulously, Senator," said the portly campaign manager. "Getting all the female volunteers boob jobs paid off! We're sending them to campus bars, just like the beer companies do."

"I like that," said Johnny, nodding.

"They're dressed in really tight T-shirts that have the names 'Johnny' and 'Salli' silk-screened on them in semi-circles," explained Chet. "So that one of your names encircles each nipple! Keeps the candidates top of mind!"

"Brilliant," agreed Johnny.

"The guys usually ask if one tit is named Johnny and the other Salli," said the manager.

"Good!" said Johnny. "Where is my vice-presidential candidate, Salli Webb, today?"

"Lap dancing for the editorial board of the New York Times," said Chet, checking his notes. "Should be worth an endorsement."

"Excellent," said the senator. "Have her do the same for the Post and Daily News. Even USA Today."

"Will do," said Chet.

"Are there any of those female volunteers here this afternoon?" asked Johnny.

"I think so," said Chet. "You want me to send a few in?"

"In a minute," said Johnny. "But I have a thought. Let's actively recruit girls with big titties. It'll save money on the mandatory boob jobs."

"Good thinking," chuckled Chet.

"And natural is better, anyway," explained Johnny. "For looking, it doesn't make that much difference, but for feeling ...! Yes, send in three of the girls! And have each bring 'Johnny' and 'Salli' with them!"

"Right away, Mr President," said Chet, confidently.

----------------------------

A Barry White tune played as Salli Webb did a slow and sensuous grind in the middle of the news room.

"Oh, I got my boobies when I was about thirteen," she explained as she fondled them. "I mean, my original ones. But of course, they weren't big enough. My mother and sisters all had pretty big boobs. Maybe the gene pool had been drained by the time I came along! Say, don't any of you fellows want to take notes?"

The editor of the Times shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Salli," he said. Salli noticed that both his hands were under his desk. "We've got tape recorders."

"Oh!" she said, with a knowing smile. She peeled her tight panties off her creamy thighs. "That's why I got the boob job! As soon as I could. Saved the money I made at the strip joint for the operation."

"You were dancing in a club at thirteen?" asked one of the reporters. He seemed to stifle a moan after his question.

"Yeah," giggled Salli. "Don't tell, okay? Being a girl with a baby face and almost fifty inch gazombas made me pretty damn popular."

"Did that make you bigger than your mom and sisters?" asked the editor.

"You'd love to know, wouldn't you?" laughed Salli, wrapping those silicone fun bags around the man's head. "Maybe I'll have you guys do a photo session with me and my mom and sisters! It'd have to be a big room so there'd be room for all that tit!"

"Goddamn," growled the editor, as his hidden hands worked harder.

"And they'd all cluck their tongues — tsk, tsk, tsk." Salli tweaked her nipples on each tsk. Several of the editorial board members moaned. "Salli, will you ever grow tits? I guess I showed them, didn't I?" Salli offered her juicy boobs to the editor, but his hands stayed in motion under the desk. He moaned, and moaned, and moaned — and then suddenly sighed.

"There!" sang Salli, tucking her titties away. "I'll look for that endorsement in tomorrow's edition. And don't forget to wash your hands before you go back to work!"

--------------------------------------

"I'm glad you were able to come, Rev," said Phil the Ferret, motioning for the man of the cloth to take a seat.

The Reverend, dressed in a simple suit and tie, sat down. "Thank you," he said, graciously. "Mr Ferret, I know why my organization wants to defeat these candidates and their sexually permissive ideas. But why you?"

"Same as you, Rev!" laughed Phil.

"Because such animal behavior is morally repugnant?" said the Reverend.

"Oh. No," said Phil, motioning for a bottle of wine. "Is that your beef with 'em? We don't like it 'cause if fellas can get some tail anywhere they want it, they won't patronize the ladies of the evening. Which we are in charge of."

The Reverend raised an eyebrow as Phil poured him a glass. "How could you possibly think my reasons are the same as yours?"

"'Cause they'll cut into your business, just like it'll cut into ours!" said Phil.

"I beg your pardon?" said the clergyman.

"Well ... the more uptight and repressed people are, the more they come to church, right?"

"I suppose so," agreed the Reverend.

"So they'll cut into your business!" said Phil, sipping his wine. "If nobody can get any, we both keep the people comin' to us."

"I never thought of that," said the Reverend, nodding.

"So! We can influence the President," said Phil. "And the people. And so can you!"

Two busty young women sauntered up the table in the Italian restaurant.

"Would you gentlemen like any company tonight?" said a lovely blonde.

"Oh, geez," said Phil, rolling his eyes. "Reverend, I apologize. I thought I might ask Heather and Lavonia here to come by to show you the kinda people that'd be outa work if Winslow and Webb win the White House!"

A top-heavy blonde and mountainous breasted black woman smiled at the clergyman.

"But that ain't the kinda man you are, is it?" said Phil. "You guys got that vow of celibacy, right?"

The Reverend stared appreciatively at the the blonde's freckled cleavage, and at the way her friend's chocolate-colored breasts undulated with her every breath.

"You've got us mixed up with the Catholics!" announced the Reverend, enthusiastically. "Protestants have no such vows. Ladies, sit down! Phil, where are your manners? Order us some champagne."

----------------------------

"Um — Senator Winslow?" A shy redhead stuck her head into the candidate's office.

"Yes? Can I help you?" said the senator, standing up to greet the unexpected guest.

"I think so," said the young girl as she stepped through the door. Senator Winslow drew in his breath as he looked her over. Her red hair framed a gorgeous round freckled face. Her round cheeks and dazzling smile created an image of innocence, while her fire-engine red lips hinted at a certain sexual adventurousness. She wore four-inch heels that were as red as her lips, and only boosted her height a little past its five-foot limit. She was wearing short shorts that the Hooters girls would have rejected as too tight and suggestive, and her "Johnny/Salli" T-shirt showed off a pair of breasts that Johnny guessed hadn't been F-cups for very long. He expressed his admiration with a low whistle. The redhead blushed through her freckles, and Johnny noticed a definite hardening of the nipples through that skin-tight T-shirt.

"Thank you, Senator," said the girl with a nervous giggle.

"No, no, call me Johnny," said the candidate as he rushed around his desk. "Sit down."

"Thanks, I will," she said. Johnny stood close by. His stiffening cock was now at this burstingly sexual creature's mouth level.

"Um, my name is Debby," said the girl, "and I just wanted to thank you for the breast augmentation. They're really just what I always wanted!" She squealed as she squeezed her new boobies together between her arms. "And I really believe in what you and Miss Webb are talking about. I just know the world would be a better place if we could just ... just ... well, fuck whenever we felt like it!"

Johnny smiled as he took in the view down her shirt. "Like — right now?"

Debby shrugged. "Maybe," she said, giggling. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Senator Winslow kneeled in front of where the girl was sitting. "Yes, there is, Debby," he said reverently. "Right now, you are giving me such a hard-on. One that won't go away without some kind of action!"

Debby stood up and reached for where the hem of her T-shirt was tucked into her tight shorts. "Well, then I guess I'll just have to do something about that! After all ... "

Johnny smacked his lips as Debby's boobs bounced into the open air.

" ... it's the law!" laughed the young girl as she grabbed Johnny by the back of his neck and clamped his lips to her right nipple.

----------------------

The senator's wife checked her attire before she met the limo to take her to her campaign appearance.

Buffy was enjoying this new image. No longer did she need to play the role of the demure, dutiful Washington wife. No more camouflaging the natural heft and bounce of her bosom. Now the Winslow and Webb ticket demanded that Buffy flaunt her figure. She looked at the clinging pink Danskin that was molded to her 36D-cup tits. She stared at her nipples in the mirror until they poked through the fabric more prominently. She took a few tentative mincing steps in her four-inch heels, pleased to see the way her bosom jiggled with every movement. And she checked to make sure she wasn't creating a wet spot on her tight short shorts!

Campaign manager Chet stuck his head in through the doorway. "Buffy? You ready?" Buffy spun around. "Goddamn!" called the portly politico. "Shit, Buffy you look good enough to eat!"

Buffy moistened her full lips. "Chet, what are you trying to say?" she asked as she tossed her hips and tits from side to side.

"I'm tryin' to say you're giving me such a hard-on!" he grinned.

"You know the rules!" giggled Buffy as she unburdened him of his pants. She knelt in front of his rising member and put out her tongue. "Right here, baby, right here ... " Buffy yanked down the front of her top so that the shelf of her bosom was there to catch any sticky overflow.

The door opened. Chet growled, "What? What the fuck is it?"

Vice-Presidential candidate Salli Webb stepped inside. "Buffy?" she asked. "They're waiting ... oh-oh. Chet? What do I see?" Salli teased.

"Looks like a hard-on to me," said Buffy.

"And I know another pretty lady responsible," said Chet.

"Oh, hell!" cursed Salli, pulling off her minidress. "Scoot over, Buffy. After all, it's the law!"

---------------------------

The crowd roared as Johnny and Salli took the stage. A brass band played the old funk hit 'Do It 'Til You're Satisfied'. Senator Johnny Winslow stopped where his busty wife Buffy was seated and raised her to her feet. With one hand on her back and another blatantly grabbing her jutting ass, Johnny and Buffy tongue-kissed hungrily. Titanic-titted Salli Webb made a humorous show of being left out and strode right out to a strange man sitting in the front row. Placing one of his hands on her bottom and another on the tip of her enormous boob, Salli kissed the stranger just as passionately. The crowd roared its approval at this demonstration of their political-social platform. Both couples broke and reunited behind the podium. Finally, they explored each other!

"Thank you, thank you," said Johnny Winslow, signaling the crowd to settle down. They were unwilling. Johnny couldn't see for sure, but he suspected some were following their lead, right there at the rally. "Men — do you want to look at Salli Webb's friendly ... uh, shall we say ... presence every night on the news?"

A chorus of male cheers.

"And do you want the right to relief whenever you need or want it from the women of America?"

More cheers.

"Then you know how you must vote. Salli — you show 'em a thing or two!"

Applause and laughter as Salli Webb approached the podium doing a spirited shoulder-shaking shimmy.

"Some people think our campaign promises only benefit the men!" shouted the stacked blonde. "But women — do you want opportunities for sexual satisfaction mandated by law?"

"Yes!" screamed the women.

"Do you want freedom from monogamy?"

"Yes!"

"And do you want bigger breasts?"

"Yessss!" shrieked the women, and the men joined them. The band struck up "This Could Be The Start of Something Big".

Campaign manager Chet grinned. He never would have believed it ... but he was pretty sure they had a shot.

-----------------------------

Phil the Ferret ordered more pasta carbonara when he and the Reverend met again. "Let's go over it one more time, Rev," he said, twirling the pasta onto his fork.

"Oh, Phil, I prefer not to know the details," said the Reverend, nervously. "Just tell me how much to make out the check."

"I'm gettin' to that," said Phil, slurping in the spaghetti. "We got lists of undecided voters ... undecided male voters ... in every city. We'll send our girls to visit 'em before and after the election. Before to persuade. After to say t'ank you."

"And you're sure these girls need to be paid to do this?" asked the clergyman. "Wouldn't they do it for nothing."

"Rev, whattayou do for livin'? Do you give preachin' away for free?" snickered Phil. "We gotta pay 'em. We do halvsies. Our outfit will foot half the bill, and yours, the other half."

"All right, all right," said the Reverend. "But it can't be traced to me in any way."

"Don't worry," assured Phil. "We got ways to hide where the money came from." He shot his unlikely co-conspirator a wink.

"Here you are," said the Reverend, handing over the check.

"Thanks!" said Phil, wiping his chin with a red-checked napkin.

"That's it?" asked the Reverend. "'Thanks'?"

Phil smiled. "Nah, that ain't all," he laughed. "Go back to your hotel room. Heather and Lavonia can't wait to see you!"

Phil finished his meal alone.

--------------------------------

Johnny Winslow stared at the television set. Just stared. He still couldn't believe it.

His campaign manager nudged him. "Johnny, snap out of it," said Chet. "You haven't blinked in half an hour."

"But everyone liked what we were saying," Johnny said, as if in a trance. "Men, women ... everyone. Why didn't they vote for us?"

"So we lost!" said Chet. "Hell, that's politics. Who the hell knows why?"

"Do you think Buffy will ever forgive me?" said Johnny. "Making infidelity a political weapon?"

"Sure, she'll forgive you," chuckled Chet. "As long as you can stand her fucking anyone she likes!"

"Will she let me do the same?" wondered Johnny.

"Hard to say," said Chet, making his way out of the hotel room. "Tell you what," he said, starting to unbutton his belt. "I'll ask her. I'm seeing her in a minute."

"You are?" said Johnny, whirling around to face Chet for the first time during this conversation.

"Yup," said Chet. "Johnny, tell me. With that to suck you off and titfuck at home — why did you run around in the first place?"

Chet left the hotel room without waiting for an answer.

Johnny continued to stare at the TV.

"Challengers Winslow and Webb made a strong showing, especially near the end of the campaign," said the network anchor. "But the Republican incumbent knew the United States wasn't ready for federally-mandated sex in the streets. Nor were they ready for the criminalization of having small breasts."

Suddenly Johnny's view of the screen was obscured.

"Guess who?" said a familiar female voice.

"Madame Vice President?" said Johnny, stifling a smile. He grinned broadly to see that it wasn't hands that were lifted from his eyes, but two soft, suckable breasts.

"Maybe next time, Johnny," giggled Salli, holding her spectacularly structured boobs out to her running mate's mouth.

"What will you do now?" asked Johnny, between nips and sucks.

"The web site is doing better than ever," said Salli. "And I'm putting all those teenage volunteers of ours to work as models. I'm going to have start making up names for 'em."

"Mabel Mamms, Tina Tits, Bettina Boobies ... " said Johnny, licking his lips.

"Right! You've got the idea," laughed Salli. "Your favorite is going to be the first Salli Girl of the Month. The redhead."

"Debby?" asked Johnny. "Debby Double Ds?"

"Yeah, her," cracked the web goddess. "So I'll be fine. I'm still not sure why we lost. Do you know?"

"Not a clue," said Johnny, pulling Salli's tits apart to wrap around his head. "Some powerful people with a lot of money must have had it in for us. Salli, if I put my dick in between them, will you lick it as it comes in and out?"