I couldn’t have been more nervous as I entered the small cinema in the White House. The room was dimly lit, but even so I could make out the figure sitting in the middle of the bottom row, facing the blank screen. He was alone, as I’d been told.
The President of the United States!
He was a good man, a credit to the nation. Since taking over from Obama, he’d carried on the former President’s good work and then some. At home and abroad, he was recognised for his tremendous commitment to making the world a better place.
That made tonight all the more difficult to believe. Why would such a decent family man risk everything for a half an hour of pleasure with one of his country’s most exclusive hookers? But then, I’d learned some time ago that in the corridors of power, it was invariably sex that made the world go round.
Twenty-four months ago I’d never even been to America. Had anyone back in England predicted what was to happen when I relocated to the States, I’d have thought they were mad. My life had changed out of all recognition ever since that day I’d been spotted by a talent scout, so to speak, while working in a restaurant.
He had eventually persuaded me to capitalise on my best assets and take a small-time modelling job. After that, one thing had led to another. In no time at all, I’d gone from a naive model to a bashful escort to one of the country’s most highly-paid hookers. How could I have reached such a status so quickly? It still felt like a dream.
And now, here I was, making my way down to the front of the theatre in the White House. Today was the President’s birthday. I was his gift.
The blow job had been paid for by some of his biggest supporters, or so I’d been told. In my line of work, I’d learned that the fewer questions asked the better. Even though he was only able to escape the celebrations for half an hour, it had been drummed into me that my task was to make the experience unforgettable.
That shouldn’t be too difficult. My oral skills were why I earned mega-bucks, after all.
Well, they were one of the reasons. I fucked like a rabbit, too.
I’d enjoyed sex ever since I was a young woman and, for whatever reason, I just seemed to have a knack for this kind of work. I’d been nervous the first few times, but it hadn’t been long before I’d thrown any delusions of inhibitions out of the window.
Tonight’s engagement was different to my normal assignments, of course. First, this was the President and second, it was a blow job only. The President didn’t fuck other women, just his beautiful wife.
His fingers were steepled in front of him and his eyes were closed, almost as if he was in prayer. When they opened and found me standing in front of him, they slowly covered the whole of my body. It wasn’t a lewd gaze, not like a lot of the guys I’d been with. It was a genuine look of appreciation that made me feel alive.
Like I was the sexiest women in the world, right then…
A woman didn’t attend a White House party unless she was glamorously dressed and my cream-colored evening gown was perfect for the occasion. It hung loosely from its high, haltered neck and offered as much of my braless cleavage as was fitting for such an occasion. The sudden glow that appeared in his eyes told me he approved.
I felt like a Princess.
A black Princess fit enough to go down on a black President.
When his eyes eventually raised themselves high enough to meet mine, I felt an instant connection. The romantic in me hadn’t imagined the moment, had it? Without a word, he’d made me feel special.
My heart was in my mouth as I sank to my knees infront of him. Soon , it wouldn’t be the only thing there…
His circumcised penis was beautiful. It was an even darker shade of black than I’d imagined and it leaned slightly to the left.
And I was happy to see that he was already semi-erect, even if it had meant a brief embarrassing moment when I’d struggled to release him first from his tuxedo trousers and then his boxer shorts. I’d always loved the way men got hard at the thought of having my body, even before I’d touched them. They only needed to look at me and their cocks grew just from the anticipation that was tumbling through their heads.
In this case, the President’s hands had gone to the arms of his seat, gripping them tightly as I’d freed him. He was nervous as I was.
I loved that thought.
“You have a beautiful cock, Mr. President,” I told him, trying to put him at ease.
I curled one hand around his thick girth, stroking him gently as I stared up into his eyes. An almost imperceptible growl escaped his throat but I was listening for it.
“Very beautiful,” I added, leaning forward to lap at the bead of pre-cum that had formed on the tip of his manhood.
He grew another inch and I felt a shudder of desire pass through me. This was going to be more pleasure than work.
I smiled up at him from between his knees as I şerifali escort sucked it between my full, glossy red lips. His eyes were narrowed now, the look of a man in a high state of arousal. I would have to be careful or this could be over before it started. A half an hour wasn’t long, but I was determined to make the full use of my allocation.
He grew even further as soon as I lowered my lips onto to his erect penis. I hadn’t yet met a man who could resist my sucking mouth.
He wasn’t the biggest I’d ever had, but he was impressive enough. And he was the President. What girl could want more?
I kept my eyes on his face as I sucked him—wanting to capture every expression so that I could replay them over and over again in my mind later, when I was lying in bed fingering myself. I was a nobody. This was the most powerful man on earth. And I was sucking his cock.
Gratifyingly, he continued to stare down at me as I moved slowly, my eager mouth all over him. My wide eyes hypnotically held his as I stared upwards from between his thighs, putting on a visual show to compliment the sensations created by my tongue.
When one of his Presidential hands went to my black hair, the action lit a warm glow inside me. It was his first participatory move. Saliva began to drool from my sucking lips and I worked it into his throbbing length with both hands. My eyes smiled into his as his fingers began to appreciatively stroke my dark locks and I found myself wishing he would talk to me.
I took my time, making sure that I continually kept him at simmering point but easing off each time I felt him beginning to boil. This was my territory. I was the best and I knew it.
He was grunting continuously now, and the delicious feeling of his Presidential cock throbbing in my mouth had my own arousal at fever pitch. It was all I could do to stop myself from dropping a hand between my legs and rubbing myself. This was the President’s gig, not mine. Every thought had to be focused on his pleasure, not mine.
Even so, despite the instructions that had been rammed into to me before I’d entered the room, I decided to up the ante. When was a girl ever going to get an opportunity like this again?
Reaching upwards, I released the ties of my halter top.
The President’s eyes were all over my ebony coloured tits as I slowly pulled the top of my dress away. Every man I’d ever been with had told me what great tits I had. How they loved my chocolate-coloured nipples. It looked as if I had Presidential approval, too.
I shivered in delight at the thought.
“Want to touch them?” I audaciously asked, hoping I wasn’t overstepping the mark.
I took his large hands in mine and placed them on my breasts. The feeling of his palms as he cupped them was amazing. So was the warmth. At first he seemed uncertain, but I held my palms over his until he began to squeeze them, test their firmness and shape.
I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t disappointed…
When I took my hands away, he kept his in position, growing bolder as his thumbs flicked my nipples.
I almost creamed there and then.
“Let me,” I whispered, gently pulling his hands away.
The instant glimpse of disappointment that appeared in his dark eyes changed instantly when I wrapped my tits around his wonderful hardness. His Presidential cock twitched as I enveloped him. I smiled into his aroused eyes and let him watch as I dribbled saliva down from my mouth into the valley that had now captured his manhood.
Then I gently began to move on him.
“Have you ever been tit-fucked before, Mr. President?”
His answer was a low growl. I loved that sound. He was almost as aroused as I was…
“You like that?” I continued to tease, aware that my tone was hoarse.
He didn’t speak, but the slight incline of his shaved head gave me the assurance I was seeking. He was gasping with every smooth movement and I adored the way he had joined in, closing his eyes and bucking his hips upwards in an attempt to increase the friction.
In no time at all, we had established a rhythm that was difficult to resist. His breathing was becoming heavier, and I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. No man had ever been able to resist my speciality.
Not even the President of the United States, it seemed.
When the dim lights flickered around us, I knew that was the signal for me to get out of there. Had half an hour passed that quickly? I let my mouth join the action, taking him between my glossy red lips each time the head of his cock reappeared from my valley of flesh. All of a sudden it was too much for him and I was about to gain my reward.
I pulled my tits away and slithered back down between his legs just in time for the first blast of Presidential cum to splatter across my forehead and cheek. The second hit my black hair and the third found my lips. Those were my instructions, but I needed, silivri escort wanted, more.
Grasping the base of his thickness, I took his still throbbing cock between my lips again. Sucking hard while my fingers stroked him, I milked out and swallowed every last drop of his creamy cum.
It was too good to resist.
It was only when he had nothing left that I released him, slumping down happily between his legs again. I smiled up at him from my position at his feet, finding his eyes as I carefully collected several blobs of his cum from my face and rubbing them across my tits.
“My souvenir,” I chuckled, as I re-fastened my dress back in place, trying not to show how aroused I was too.
I was supposed to be the professional in this situation.
His eyes twinkled at me, as if he appreciated the compliment. For a moment, I thought he was going to speak, but then the lights flickered for a second time. The breathtaking session was at an end.
He stood up and tucked his cock back into his pants, avoiding my eyes at first but then turning to look at me.
“What’s your name?” he asked suddenly.
It was the first time he had spoken. His voice was deep and gruff, commanding and sexy, but it had a warm tone to it, too. I was eternally grateful that he’d asked. The question told me I was there as a person in my own right, not simply an object for his pleasure.
“Emma,” I told him, watching his eyes.
He nodded as he straightened his tie, as if he was committing my name to memory. It confirmed he would always remember this experience. But even so, his next words shocked me.
“I’d like to see you again, Emma.”
TWO MONTHS LATER
The annexe to the Oval Office was as impressive a room as I’d ever been in. Not that I had much chance to admire my surroundings as I was whisked through the grandeur as quickly as possible. All the eyes felt like they were on me. Maybe I was being paranoid but did they know why I was there?
My cover was that I was a journalist, invited there to conduct a short interview for whatever woman’s magazine I was supposed to be representing. So far, no-one had asked me any questions that might have exposed me, which was just as well. I was too excited about seeing the President again to remember that sort of detail.
It had been two months since I’d gone down on him at his birthday party and right now, my head was all over the place. I wasn’t even sure I could be relied upon to give a straight answer if anyone had bothered to ask.
In keeping with my cover, I was wearing a professional looking business suit for today’s meeting. It was different to my usual attire and made me look kinda sexy in more of a classy way, I thought. That made me idly wonder if the man of my dreams would like to see me in some sort of uniform. I had a fabulous bunny girl costume I’d worn to a Heffner party that had proven very popular on the night.
The pretence of being a journalist made the excitement all the greater. Had any other lucratively-paid, high-class hooker been secreted into the White House, with the sole purpose of giving the President another blow job? I doubted it.
That made me feel special. Very special.
In truth, I hadn’t expected to see him again. Yes, I know he’d told me that he’d like to see me again— I could still hear the words echoing in my head as if he had said them to me but moments ago. But I hadn’t expected him to go through with it. I’d thought that in the cold light of day, he’d realise he was risking too much.
If our intimate dalliance was ever discovered, it would most likely cost him his marriage as well as the Presidency. His place in the history books would be assured, but for all the wrong reasons.
Yet here I was…
I’d spent a couple of hours at the hairdressers yesterday—it was normal practice before I saw a client—but I was so giddy at the prospect of seeing him again that I’d even half-seriously thought of having red, white and blue highlights, just for him. That might have been a little too much, I eventually decided. Journalists didn’t do that and anyway, I didn’t want him thinking I was some over-crazed stalker type.
But I did have a surprise. Underneath my suit jacket—I’d kept it tightly fastened since I’d entered the White House—I was naked under the sheer white blouse I was wearing. My chocolate nipples were already hard at the thought of his reaction to seeing my tits again.
In my masturbatory fantasies, I’d imagined that he had literally ripped the blouse from my body, buttons flying everywhere, then pushed me down on his desk and fucked me until I cried out for mercy. Okay, fantasies and reality were two different things, but I’d already enjoyed a couple of intense orgasms from that fantasy alone.
I’d had to wait for twenty minutes before the door to the Oval Office opened—long enough for my already on-edge nerves to jangle further. Two important looking men exited, şirinevler escort neither of them giving me anything more than a cursory glance.
When the President followed them, I was unable to suppress the tingle that passed down my spine. I was going to suck his cock again! Here! In the White House! The lewd excitement was almost too much to bear.
He looked different in daylight. More relaxed, yes, but more powerful, too. And cute. Oh yes. He looked very cute.
“Ah, Emma,” he coolly said, as if we were close friends.
Another tingle hit me, but this time it wasn’t in my spine. He’d called me by my name. How romantic!
I clumsily rose to my feet and shook the hand he offered me. It was all I could do to let it go. The undercurrent of sexuality was intensifying, just from that simple physical contact.
“What time is General Ashworth due?” he asked, turning towards his secretary.
He nodded thoughtfully when she told him and then faced me again.
“It seems we have around three quarters of an hour,” he calmly said. “I do hope that’s long enough…”
I pinched myself as I followed him into the Oval Office, just in case it would wake me up. This couldn’t be really happening, could it? I’d promised myself to remain super-cool; this was my profession after all. But my knees were shaking and my heart was threatening to burst from my chest. Nor was my condition helped as he immediately paced across to the large window and looked out into the gardens.
It told me that he was as apprehensive as I was.
I hoped it was a positive nervousness, rather than there being any doubt in his mind. It had been simpler in the White House cinema. It had been semi-dark and we could hardly see one another. I’d been in control then and all I’d had to do was walk in and give him a blow job.
Here, it was like meeting him face-to-face for the first time. This was the Oval Office, the sun was streaming in through the windows, and there was no escaping the reality of the moment.
He hadn’t met my eyes since we’d entered the room and he still kept them averted as he returned from the window and settled in his large, leather chair.
“I’m nervous, too,” I said, trying to reassure him but more for something to say. I couldn’t stand the silence between us.
I think I would have screamed in frustration if he decided to call it off at this stage. I decided there and then that I wasn’t going to let him. I wanted his cock again. And I was going to have it…
My admission brought a smile to his face. Suddenly the tension in the air was lifted.
I was just about to remove my jacket, let him see the goods on offer, when he nodded to the seat on the other side of his desk. Whatever I’d expected, it wasn’t that. But then he explained.
“My secretary will bring some refreshments in momentarily. It’s standard procedure.”
I gave an inward sigh of relief. It felt like he’d read my mind, and I suppose the confusion must have been obvious on my face.
“I know it’s been a while,” he continued, steepling his fingers in that way of his. “I’m sorry, but sometimes the affairs of State get in the way of other more personal considerations.”
We both laughed, but my heart was beating even faster than before. This was surreal. The President of the United States was actually apologising for not seeing me again sooner?
When he added, “How have you been,” I almost melted.
The question made me feel all warm inside, like a girl falling in love with her first boyfriend. He hadn’t needed to ask that, and he actually seemed genuinely interested in my wellbeing.
“Good,” I told him, pausing for a moment before I continued. “I’ve thought about you a lot.”
He seemed surprised and I was astonished to see a light blush colour his face. I’d made the President blush?
“Thank you,” he said. He sounded sincere. “What we did…”
He hesitated, finally keeping his eyes firmly on mine as he spoke.
“I’ve never done that before. Or since. I’ve always been a faithful husband.”
His words rocked me. Tears formed on the edge of my eyelids and I forced them back. If he was telling the truth, it was the most wonderful compliment he could ever have paid me.
I stared into his eyes, trying to read his soul. Yes, he was being truthful. You could always tell whether some men were lying to you, even when they stared into your eyes. Bastards. In my profession, I’d learned that the richer, the more influential the man, the more devious he was.
But not this man. I was sure of that.
“Thank you,” I found myself saying.
We both laughed again at the stupidity of my remark. But I meant it. His birthday dalliance had been special to both of us, even though neither of us had expected it to be this way.
Then he was softly shaking his head.
“No, thank you, Emma,” he chuckled.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. We just gazed warmly into one another’s eyes. Like two lovers, I told myself, but then realised that had always been a problem of mine. I’d always worn my heart on my sleeve, let myself get carried away like a giddy schoolgirl.
The sharp knock on the door made me jump and the sight of his secretary, carrying a tray, effectively ended the tender moment. For the sake of my professionalism, it was probably for the best.