Liberal Cuck: An Election Night Story
Readers-- enjoy this tongue-in-cheek story about a couple on the 2016 US Election Night. I’ve submitted it to my usual Literotica page so it should be up there soon. When it’s posted, I’ll take this off tumblr and link there so you can leave a comment
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Carson had been outspoken during many political campaigns, but 2016 was different. He was shocked at his neighbors and friends who vehemently defended candidate Donald Trump, who admitted to going up to gorgeous women and grabbing them like they were piece of meat. Every chance Carson got, he spoke up and defended Hillary Clinton as the right candidate.
“What a liberal cuck!” they would say laughing. This was a new insult to Carson, but in 2016 it spread everywhere. It seemed like anyone who didn’t want America to be run like a corporation was just some pathetic cuckold.
“Babe, you’re too excitable,” said his wife Victoria, “The Republicans want to restore America to its sense of power that we lost under Obama. I get that you disagree, but you’re always yelling at people.” Carson couldn’t believe his own wife wasn’t standing up for women’s rights and trying to elect their first female president.
Victoria had experienced sexism on every level. As a young model, she had been groped and ogled by tons of creepy directors and photographers, and she told stories about having to bare her tits and sit on the laps of influential clients. When she became a news anchor, she faced even more rampant objectification. The other anchors dressed her in tight skirts and blouses (“good for ratings”) and gave her lip gloss that made her look like a porn star. On the station’s website, guys would comment on her clips and address her outfit. “If I were there, that shirt would be in pieces!” “Does anyone else here get hard thinking about punching her in the face?”
On November 8th, 2016, Carson and Victoria put the kids to bed and sat on the couch to watch the election results. At first, Carson was smiling as the numbers came in for the Democrats, exactly as planned. But soon enough, the scales rapidly tipped in the other direction and the national news programs were all calling it for President Donald J. Trump.
Carson’s heart sank like a bag of stones. Victoria gleefully changed to Fox News, which was showing crowds of Americans in red hats cheering for their victory.
“Sweetheart, what a triumph! We’re finally going to have a president who can look after America’s interests.”
“How can you say that?” Carson asked, “This is going to be terrible for women!”
“Stop being such a sore loser,” his wife said, and got up from the couch, “You’re such a spoiler trying to ruin my fun.”
Carson lay despondently on the couch and refreshed Facebook on his phone. His feed was full of his meathead neighbors celebrating with enthusiastic posts.
“WE FUCKING DID IT! BUILD THE WALL!”
“TAKE THAT LIBERAL CUCKS! HILLARY FOR PRISON!”
The tv news cycled through to the president-elect. He and his family were on stage. Carson couldn’t help but notice Ivanka looking radiant in a pale blue dress and perfectly styled hair. Despite his political leanings, Carson was a red-blooded male who always though Ivanka was a bombshell.
“Honey shush! Are you seriously crying right now? You’ll wake the kids.”
Carson looked back behind him. His wife was at the foot of the stairs dressed in a beautiful tight black dress. She was stepping into a pair of fine high heels as she slid in pearl earrings.
“What are you doing? What’s going on?” he asked, wiping his face and nose with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Sweetheart, there’s a victory party happening right now at Ronny’s down the road,” she said, the sound of her heels clipping as she picked up a slim black purse from the kitchen counter.
“A party? Now?”
“Honey,” she explained, “Not everyone shares the same views with you. For most of America, this is a huge exciting moment and we want to be celebrating not sulking.”
She headed towards the door.
“I don’t think it’s the right time,” Carson said despondently, “She hasn’t even conceded. I’m far from the mood to party.”
“That’s good sweetheart, you weren’t invited anyway, Ronny said it was for the neighborhood who supported the President from the start.”
Carson’s vision blurred as he heard his wife call Donald Trump “the President”.
“Bye sweetheart, don’t stay up too late crying,” Victoria said and stepped out the door.
Carson stood up and looked out the window. Couples from each of the houses near him were heading out into the street dressed in fine clothes, carrying bottles of wine and laughing. They lived in an affluent community, but Carson hadn’t realized how many Trump voters surrounded him.
He watched his wife click away in her stunning high heels. She looked amazing, radiating positivity in the evening’s festivities. Her ass was tight, her modest cleavage was tasteful, and her jewelry accentuated her natural youth and taut skin.
“Hey there Vicky,” shouted Burt, their next-door-neighbor, “So exciting! I can’t believe we pulled this off.”
“You’re telling me!” she said, “Are you heading to Ronny’s?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.” The two headed off together away to the party.
Carson picked up the telephone from its cradle on the kitchen counter.
“Hey Ronny, it’s Carson,” he said.
“Carson my man!” shouted the neighbor, “Calling to admit you were wrong? You said it was an inevitability, but look at her now. Crooked Hillary won’t be sitting in the oval office after all.”
“No Ronny, that’s not why I called,” he admitted, “Vicky said you were having a party, I wanted to make sure it was okay if I stopped by.”
“Now I don’t see how that’s a very good idea,” Ronny said, “It’s more of an upbeat mood, and I don’t want a loser ruining the energy.”
“Loser?”
“Because the she-bitch lost, Carson, you know what I meant!”
“If Vicky’s there, I think I should be able to come too.”
“Nonsense Carson, she’s a fine grown woman, she can take care of herself. You stay at home, maybe you and some of the other liberals can knit yourself something to make you feel better.” Ronny laughed and hung up.
Carson refresh his Facebook feed. One of Ronny’s guest was using Facebook Live to broadcast the party to his followers. Begrudgingly, Carson tuned in and widened the window.
For a gathering of affluent family men, the party was looking wild. The music was blasting patriotic songs, and everyone was wearing a red Make America Great Again cap. The men, who were always missing their fraternity days, seemed to be embracing that spirit, drinking beer and cheering: “Build that wall! Build that wall!”
All the housewives were getting into it too. These women all had plenty of money, and spent their days working out and drinking mocha kale smoothies. They had great bodies and they danced and cheered as the news broadcast the announcement of Trump’s inevitable victory and predicted Hillary’s inevitable concession.
“Burt,” someone shouted, “Why don’t you wheel in that second keg! If I remember my college days, you could tap them faster than any brother on campus!”
Burt cheered and wheeled in a new keg, and everyone refilled their cups as the music kept playing.
“Ladies, come on now,” said Ronny their host, “It’s not a real party unless someone does a keg stand!”
Ronny’s wife Jackie was a slim redhead with great tits. She was the first to volunteer, kicking off her heels and vaulting onto the keg with the help of the eager men around her.
The crowd applauded as this usually refined housewife dangled upside down, guzzling beer. Her tits were shaking and slipping down out of her dress as they became soaked with beer.
“What a pair,” someone whispered, the audio captured on the Live feed.
“Who’s next?” Ronny asked. His gaze peered outside the frame of the screen. “Victoria Torrence, get on up here!”
Carson laughed to himself. His wife was too sweet and pure to do something as vile as a keg stand in front of all of their neighbors and friends.
But before he could learn if his was right, the Facebook Live feed ended and Carson was left alone.
Some of the guys had gotten handsy with Victoria before. At the Fourth of July BBQ that year, Burt Jacobson had been plastered and standing behind her at the line for the buffet.
“Those are some great cans,” he shouted at her, peering down unashamed at her ass in her tight jeans. Holding his plate of bratwurst in one hand, he reached down and squeezed Vicky’s ass cheek with his grubby hand, feeling the bounce of her skin as he let go.
“Burt,” she shouted, “You cod!”
Carson had been there to pull her away from Burt, who seemed too drunk to realize he did anything wrong. But now Carson was at home and Vicky was down the block alone...
There was a noise outside. Carson was startled and rushed to the window to see what was happening. A jeep had pulled up right in front of his house, blasting Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the U.S.A.” obnoxiously.
It was three of the neighborhood kids: Rick, Tony, and Alicia. All spoiled seniors from the local private school, privileged and uncontrollable. Of course they had voted for Trump.
Carson poked one eye through the curtain, careful just to observe. Rick and Tony were just brats, but Alicia was clever and enjoyed getting under his skin. Recently he had been walking his dog when he passed by her house. She was out tanning in the sun on the front lawn, her young body in only a tiny bikini. His wife Vicky was gorgeous, but how could you match the natural radiance of a fit blonde eighteen year old seductress?
She sat up and greeted him warmly, but Carson had reacted badly. Seeing her perfect young body so vividly on display, he had flashed back to his own high school days when girls like Alicia were his every waking dream, and just a passing glance from them could turn his brain into mush and his speech into garbled gibberish.
He kept awkwardly glancing down at his feet, and getting trapped staring down her young cleavage. She could tell he was under her control, and she kept her calm and made clean small talk as he melted into a puddle before her. Carson had avoided the girl ever since.
The two boys got out of the Jeep, leaving Alicia to lean over the side smiling. They walked up the driveway towards his house, and Carson got nervous thinking about what they wanted.
Instead, they paused halfway up his lawn. They looked down at his sign: it was his “I’m With Her 2016” campaign sign that was planted proudly in front of his house. Of course, all the other lawns had “Make America Great Again” slogans on theirs.
“What a fucking joke!” Tony said, “The bitch fucking lost!”
He and his friend laughed, Alicia joining them from the car.
With one heavy stomp, Rick crushed the Hillary sign. The spokes keeping it in the ground bent and the corrugated plastic molded into the imprint of his boot.
“Fucking bitch,” he said, and the two continued to stomp on Carson’s lawn.
Alicia kept laughing from the car, so happy to join in their celebration of Trump’s victory.
Finally, they reached their coup de grace. Each man reached into his cargo shorts and opened their flies. Their cocks were thick and heavy, with bunches of hair poking out of their zippers. They each held their uncircumcised tips for a moment, before letting go and unleashing torrents of piss onto the sign. They drenched the sign, laughing and celebrating the whole time.
“I think I’m finally draining the swamp,” one said, causing the other to guffaw buffoonishly. He was spraying loads of piss directly onto the slogan.
“Come on boys, we got other houses to hit,” called Alicia, casually beckoning the two big cocked studs towards her.
When they were done, they shook out the last drops, zipped up their flies, and jumped back into the car with Alicia.
Carson snuck out of the front door in time to see the car speed away. His lawn stunk of urine and he gagged thinking about those putrid Trump supporters and their big dicks.
It was only a short walk to Ronny’s house down the street. Carson knew he wasn’t invited, so he waited until the coast was clear and crouched under a shrub at the kitchen window. Poking up his head, he could see and hear the party going on inside…
He couldn’t believe his eyes. Standing there in the kitchen was Dorothy Posner, the accountant’s wife from two houses over. She had her hair up in an elegant bun, a fine pair of crystal earrings dangling from her ears, and most importantly, had the neck of her slim red dress folded open on her stomach exposing her magnificent breasts to the whole party.
She seemed completely engrossed in the conversation she was having with Burt Jacobson, who was grinning and smoking a cigar. Her big bare tits were obviously catching his eye, but she didn’t seem to care!
Carson looked around for Dorothy’s husband, but he was nowhere to be found. He remembered the last time he saw Sam Posner, at a birthday party before the primaries were even over. Sam, like the rest of the neighborhood, had been a Republican, and had launched into a long defense of Jeb Bush.
“Jeb’s a fine respectable candidate,” Sam had said, but the room had laughed at him.
“Jeb’s a pussy!” someone shouted.
“Didn’t you see him ask for applause? At his own rally… pathetic!”
“You all can’t seriously support Trump,” he had asked incredulously.
“Of course we do,” someone replied, “He’s got balls and he’s going to make America great again.”
“I could never vote for a monster like that,” Sam had said, “He’s undignified and an embarrassment!”
“Oh Sam shut the fuck up. You’re just a cuckservative Hillary-apologist!”
“Hillary wouldn’t be great for the nation, but she would be better than an unscrupulous beast like Trump.”
The room scoffed. “Shut the fuck up!” they shouted, “Trump’s got this in the bag!”
That had been months ago, but by the looks of it Sam had truly stayed a never-Trumper. And now, on the night of Trump’s election, Sam’s own buxom wife was topless in another man’s kitchen celebrating the victor!
Burt Peterson held out one of his hands and grabbed Dorothy’s tit from the bottom. He held it in his hand, shaking it up and down, all while Dorothy smiled and laughed.
“Great fucking rack on you,” he said, “Too bad your hubbie voted for Hillary!”
“I know it’s embarrassing,” she said, “I’m glad to get away from him, just for the night.”
“Why don’t we go upstairs,” Burt suggested, “I can find something for you to do without your husband.”
“That’s good by me,” Dorothy giggled, and the two headed up the stairs out of view.
Carson crawled past the kitchen window towards the backyard, where more music was playing. Most of the guests were out here, drinking on the veranda Ronny had installed a couple years before.
“Come on,” said a loud mouthed neighbor, “Let’s heat up the hot tub and jump inside.”
“That’s a great idea,” Ronny said, “Sweetheart, why don’t you get it set up?”
“Sure honey,” his wife Jackie said, “Now’s a great time.” Jackie was so stunningly gorgeous that Carson’s mouth watered as he imagined seeing her come out in a swimsuit for the tub. But instead, it was even better. Jackie merely stripped off her dress until she was clad only in her Italian red lingerie. Her shining white body was fit like a woman's half her age.
“Who else is joining me?” Jackie asked and undid her bra clasp, letting out her big tits hang freely. Without any sense of shame, she stepped out of her panties and walked slowly through the crowd, completely nude. She tested the water with her foot, and then tenderly stepped all the way in. Her buoyant tits floated to the top of the bubbly water.
It didn’t take long for the other guests to join. Men began to undress, dropping their tuxedos and suits where they stood and leaping naked into the enormous hot tub. Married couples, who during the day seemed like respectable upper-class families, now eagerly showed their wealthy manicured bodies happily.
“Come on, Vicky,” Ronny called. Carson noticed his own wife step into his line of sight. “Get out of that dress and get in here.” Ronny’s naked body was seated next to his wife Jackie, and his hand was stroking her bare leg openly.
“You all are quite a bunch,” Vicky said, “But I’m not certain I’m as adventurous as this would need. My husband isn’t even here.”
“Forget that liberal bastard!” Ronny yelled, “Come and have some fun for once.”
Vicky paused. “Let me just give him a quick call,” she said, pulling out her cell phone, “Then maybe.”
Carson panicked. His phone was in his pocket, and when she dialed his number it would begin to ring loudly and they would know he was hiding. Urgently, he switched his phone to silent and dismissed the call before it made any noise.
“That’s strange,” Vicky said, “No answer.”
“He’s probably curled up on the sofa crying about Women’s Rights, or something dumb like that!” Carson was appalled to see his own wife laugh at Ronny’s cruel joke.
“Oh alright,” she said, “Just this once.”
Vicky unclasped her earrings and stepped out of her heels. She bent over and delicately set her jewelry into the toe of her shoes. Standing back up, she reached her slender arms toward her neck and clicked open the dress. Down came the zipper, revealing more of her clean white back to the crowd. Victoria’s dress slid down her body, showing only her black bra. Carson was horrified to see Vicky was wearing a tiny black thong, which left nothing about her milky thighs or buttocks to the imagination. Finally, down came the underwear, her bouncing tits and shave cunt exposed. Carson’s wife was as naked as the day she was born.
Delicately stepping towards the tub, Ronny and the other men glued their eyes to Carson’s naked wife. Here she was, this defenseless elegant woman about to jump naked into the hot tub with their grubby hands.
“Sit down, sweetheart,” Ronny said, and Vicky snuggled into the jacuzzi right next to Ronny’s greedy arms. The man was sandwiched between his own beautiful wife Jackie and the stolen body of Carson’s bride Vicky.
“Hey Ronny,” called a man from across the hot tub. Ronny casually wrapped his arms around the two women, causing Vicky to push her naked body closer to him. “Ronny, how long do you think this party’s going for?”
“All night baby!” Ronny shouted laughing, but then added seriously: “I don’t see why not. It’s a special time after all.”
“In that case,” asked the man, “Would you mind if I invited a friend of mine? I know him through work, he used to be a big contractor of my firm before he left to join the Trump campaign. He said he’s looking for a down-to-Earth party of average Americans celebrating tonight.”
Carson looked at the beautiful mansion and veranda and found it hard to believe anyone could think of Ronny as a down-to-Earth average American.
“Fucking of course he can come!” Ronny yelled, “You’re saying this guy helped get Trump elected?”
“I don’t know the details, but he seems pretty high up. Just last week he sent me a picture when he was out golfing with Mike Pence.”
“That Pence is a fucking champ,” Ronny said, “I bet his golf game is incredible.”
“Where’s Burt?” someone asked, “He should be out here in this jacuzzi.”
“I saw him over in the kitchen talking to Sam’s wife.”
“Seriously? That Jeb-loving sonnofabitch’s wife? What’s she even doing here?”
“Dorothy’s been a huge Trump supporter from the start.”
‘Yeah and she’s got great tits!”
“Last I saw, she had those things out in the open with Burt and they were heading upstairs.”
“Are you fucking kicking me?! That’s hilarious.”
“Sam’s such a fucking cuck. He deserves it.”
The group in the hot tub all laughed at the cuck’s expense. One of the men brought out expensive fragrant cigars and handed them out to the men.
“I think I’d like a cigar too,” Jackie said.
“Would you babe?” asked Ronny, grabbing her slippery body closer to him, “Let’s fucking do it! Give some to the women.”
Carson’s wife Vicky took the cigar between her lips. She clasped its thick pungent base between her teeth easily. Ronny leaned over to the naked woman and lit her cigar.
The group in the tub got silent, each puffing on their indulgent cigars. Slowly, a noise became audible from up in the house.
“Fuck me with your big cock Burt Jacobson!” yelled Dorothy’s voice. The men in the tub all laughed as the unfaithful woman cried out to her lover.
“You get her, Burt!” one man called, “Show that Jeb-loving bastard’s wife what life is going to be like under Trump’s America!”
Dorothy Posner’s moans echoed into the backyard more and more loudly. Burt was really fucking that housewife with all he had.
“Now boys,” spoke up Vicky from where she sat in the hot tub, “Sam Posner is not a bad man. He said he never would vote for Trump, but I saw him on election day and he said he came to his senses the night before, when he finally got a chance to read Comey’s analysis of Clinton. He didn’t like it, but he voted Trump after all.”
“Oh Vicky, that’s a bunch of bullshit,” Ronny said, “That just makes him even more of a cuck! He can’t even stand up for his principles.”
Suddenly, the window upstairs burst open with triumphant vigor. Dorothy Peterson’s prostrated torso thrust out into the open air, her mouth poised open in a euphoric moan, her tits jiggling in the fresh air.
Burt’s towering figure was grabbing her hips and lunging into her pussy, and he held up his hands, showing off to the party downstairs.
“Look at them go!” Jackie shouted, watching Dorothy getting boned in the upstairs guest room.
“Fuck me fuck me fuck me!” Dorothy continued to shout. “Fuck me so I can’t sit straight all week!”
“Man I knew your husband wasn’t bright,” Burt grunted, “But he must a fucking retard if he doesn’t fuck you like this every day.”
“He could never,” Dorothy sighed, barely getting the words out in between moans, “He doesn’t have the, uh, equipment.”
The crowd in the hot tub laughed as Dorothy described her husband’s inadequacy.
“Hey Dorothy,” called one man, “If you ever need to see something bigger, swing by my office!” He stood up in the hot tub and waved his long flaccid cock around in his hand.
“Yeah I wouldn’t mind sharing you with Burt!” yelled another, standing up and revealing his own impressive member.
“Why don’t you both come up here and join me?” she called from upstairs, and neither man saw a reason to refuse. They leaped up from the hot tub and raced up the stairs to get their share of the spoils.
“Oh poor Dot,” Vicky grumbled, “She’s going to be so sore in the morning from those men.”
“You know as well as I do that it’s worth it,” Jackie said, placing her hand on Vicky’s arm, “Haven’t you and Carson ever taken a third or fourth in the bedroom?”
“I suggest it all the time,” Vicky admitted, “But Carson was never for it.”
“That’s a shame,” Jackie admitted, seeming genuinely sad for Vicky’s fate, “It’s indescribable. Especially when they’re Ronny’s size.”
“Oh honey, don’t brag to our guest,” Ronny said, with reluctant humility.
“Don’t be humble, sweetheart,” Jackie said, “You saw his package getting in here, it’s enormous, isn’t it?”
“Well, I did catch a glimpse,” Vicky admitted, “And it did seem rather large.”
“And that was just soft!” Ronny huffed.
“Come on,” Jackie encouraged, “Help Ronny get hard, and then you’ll see something really impressive.”
“I don’t know,” Vicky said, “That seems wrong.”
“Relax, it’s a celebration,” Ronny reassuringly said, “What Carson doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
Vicky seemed to agree. She lent her left arm directly into Ronny’s lap underneath the water, and grabbed his penis by its long thick shaft.
“It’s so thick,” she remarked, stroking him under the water, “I can’t believe you’re not hard already. I can feel the blood pumping through it.”
“Honey, you’ll know when it’s hard,” Jackie explained, “You’ll feel it.”
And feel it she did. Vicky kept her leisurely pace rubbing Ronny’s cock until it rose up straight through the water like a breaching whale.
“Oh my,” Vicky exclaimed as the big red head thrust up into the air. It was so long that there were multiple visible inches of shaft standing full and clear above the jacuzzi water.
“It’s quite something, can’t you agree?” Jackie asked, “Why don’t you keep going?”
“I don’t think so. I saw it, isn’t that enough? This can be a funny story we remember for years to come.”
“Sweetheart, I promise it’s all right. Let me show you what he likes and maybe that will excite you.”
Jackie grabbed her long hair and tied it up into a ponytail behind her head with a elegant hair tie from her wrist. Lunging her face towards Ronny’s lap, she extended her tongue from her pink lips and landed it on the tip of the head. With care and precision, she licked around the folds of his cockhead like it was an ice cream cone, digging her tongue into the rim of excitable flesh between his throbbing head and pulsing shaft.
“I like that baby,” he said, putting his hand on the back of Jackie’s head.
“Come join me, Vicky. With two tongues, it’ll be twice as fun.”
Vicky’s blushing face was flooded with hesitation. She bit her lip, unsure of whether she should proceed. But the way her chest rose with each deep breath she took, it was obvious that she wanted to join Jackie against her better instincts.
Carson nearly fainted from watching. If he had any ounce of strength in his body, he would have rushed out into the backyard and stopped Vicky before she even touched Ronny’s remarkable penis, but he wasn’t that strong a man. Instead, his insides curdled as he realized his own inability to even try to stop the sight in front of him.
Vicky leaned forward until her eyes were an inch away from Ronny’s thrusting cock. She extended her tongue and licked the rim of his cockhead, Jackie’s giggling face soon joining her. Two tongues, two eager women, each bowing before the impressive manhood of the man in front of them.
“Let me try something,” Ronny suggested, putting his hand on the back of Victoria’s head. He slowly pushed her lips onto the top of his cock, and kept pressing. Slowly, Vicky’s head descended towards his pelvis, inch after inch of his prick clogging her mouth and throat. Soon, she was underwater, mouth stuffed with cock.
Then he let loose. Pulling her head up, he grabbed her by the sides with both hands and thrust her back down, fucking her face like it was an inanimate toy. Vicky’s body bobbed up and down, in and out of water, faster and swifter as Ronny fucked her face hole like Burt and the two men fucked Dorothy in the room above.
“Don’t be too rough,” Jackie suggested, and Ronny gave her a vicious glare. Throwing Vicky’s head off his cock, he shoved his own wife down into her positioned, thrusting and prodding her face even faster than he did Victoria’s.
Vicky meanwhile sat dazed with precum dripping down her lips and chin. She absentmindedly reached her slender arm between her legs, fiddling herself as Ronny punished his wife’s mouth with his strong dick.
He let go of Jackie finally, and she came bobbing up gasping for air. Ronny laughed as his wife breathed in desperately.
“Honey, at least warn me next time,” she said with a devious smile. It seemed she was more turned on than upset!
Out of the sliding glass door came the three men who had been pounding Dorothy Posner upstairs. They each had satisfied grins on their face and were buckling up their pants.
“She’s upstairs taking a break,” Burt said, taking one of the cigars from the box on the floor. “But I imagine she’d perk right back up if you wanted to go see her.”
“No, not right now,” Ronny said, picking his cigar back up from the ashtray, “I’ve got my hands full with the demo-cuck’s wife here.” He patted Vicky condescendingly on the shoulder.
“Hey Ronny,” said one of the men, “I think my guy’s about to pull up. You know, the Trump adviser?”
“Really!” shouted Ronny, clearly pleased to hear it. “Let’s get these ladies dressed back up and ready to meet the honored guest then.”
The two gorgeous women rose from the tub. Ronny lifted his wife up, but Burt reached out his fat hands to assist Victoria. As he helped her down, he took his time glaring over her dripping body, and rubbing his own hand along her hips and down to her ass. He even slid his hand between her legs to feel the slippery opening of her cunt.
“Fuck, Vicky, we need to make this happen sometime,” he said stridently.
“In your dreams, Burt,” Vicky defended with a smile, “Or at least when I’ve had more to drink.”
The women regrouped their clothes, and the men straightened their ties. They entered through the house, leaving Carson to scramble to another shrub to keep his eye on the party.
Thomas Yardson walked through the door. He was slightly older than the crowd, with a broad chest and muscular legs. Carson thought he recognized him from the news networks: he was indeed an important member of Trump’s presidential campaign.
“Tommy!” yelled his friend, and the two men hugged, “Congratulations on your victory.”
“It’s America’s victory,” bellowed the adviser in a booming voice.
“Hey there, I’m Ronny. Pleasure to meet you, this is my home we’re in. Thank you as well for your help in getting our man elected.”
“The real thanks are to voters like you who turned out to show your support,” he said, grasping Ronny’s hand and giving him a firm shake.
He made his way around the room, shaking hands of the party goers and thanking them for their vote. When he got to Vicky, who looked delicious in her gowns and glowing smile, he held her delicate hand and kissed it.
“Thanks for your vote,” he said with a smile. Without any subtlety, he leaned in and kissed Vicky’s cheek, squeezing her body close to his politely. It was not out of place for a man to greet a woman, but it was a bold decision for a stranger.
Carson fumed watching this man kiss his wife. Somehow, even though Vicky had just had her throat rammed open by Ronny’s thrusting prick, this seemed worse.
The partygoers had re-dressed and looked as formal and professional as ever.
Thomas Yardson addressed the group, raising his glasses.
“Thank you, average American citizens, for voting for the next leader of this great nation. Those of us who were true believers always understood that we needed a new kind of President, someone who could speak clearly about real issues and not get bogged down in the stupid politics that ruined this country. Together, we will Make America Great Again!”
The crowd cheered as everyone clinked glasses.
Victoria made her way across the crowd to speak with their distinguished guest. She was drunk at this point, and had already sucked off the host of the party, so she was feeling adventurous.
“So what’s he like in person?” Victoria asked the large man standing before her.
“He’s exactly the same. That’s why I believe in his as a candidate, because he doesn’t have a media personality. Who you see is what you get.”
“That’s remarkable,” Victoria said, handing the adviser another glass of champagne.
“Cheers to America,” he said, clinking glasses with her.
From where he peered through the window, Carson thought it looked like Victoria was flirting with the man. It was one thing to accept a crude dare from their neighbor, but this man was a complete stranger, and now a powerful Washington elite. Was she really going to be so stupid and cruel as to get involved with him?
“Hey what the fuck are you doing!” shouted a voice from behind him. Carson spun around, and it was his beautiful neighbor Alicia and her two friends. The ones who had stomped on his Hillary sign and then pissed on his front lawn like dogs.
“Are you fucking peeping at the victory party?” she teased, and the bullies ran towards her.
“Young lady,” Carson said, appealing to his authority as an adult to calm her, though she had caught him as honest as she could.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, you liberal cuck. Are you just jelly that your bitch candidate lost?”
“How can you say that? You are a young woman yourself, don’t you want respect and dignity?”
“Exactly I do, which is why I don’t side with Crooked Hillary. She is a disgrace to women, and an ugly bitch too!”
The hulking men besides her laughed. “So what the fuck are you even doing over here? I doubt you were invited to the big Trump victory.”
“It’s nothing,” he lied, and the youths peered through the window.
“Holy fuck is that your old lady?” she asked, pointing at Victoria’s slender figure in her beautiful dress.
“She looks hot as shit. Are you just jealous that she’s inside and you’re stuck out here?”
“No, I just got here to check up on here.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. We saw you out here for like ten minutes!”
Carson was stumped. He changed his tone.
“Please, I’ll leave, just don’t bother me anymore,” he pleaded.
“Oh I see,” Alicia said smiling. “You’re just some old perv trying to watch the other adults have fun! That’s pathetic, even for a liberal like you.”
The two goons with her grabbed him and pulled him to their Jeep.
“You want to be an old pervy man?” she asked, and unzipped her hoodie. Underneath, she had on only a bra, and he could see her big round tits through the fabric.
She caught him gazing at her cleavage, and then zipped it back up fast.
“Fucking perv! I knew it.”
The two men tossed him onto the lawn and lunged towards him as if they were going to punch him, but stopped.
“Why are you so scared old man?” they said, laughing.
Carson scrambled to his feet and started to run away from the house. To his relief, neither Alicia nor the two men followed.
He hid behind the fence on his lawn, and watched the property. From where he stood, he could see clearly the lawn of Ronny’s property, but not the inside of the house.
He wasn’t sure how long he should wait out there, but that choice was made for him. He saw three figures emerge from the front door right as a limo pulled up. It was Thomas Yardson, the Trump bastard, arm and arm with two lovely ladies: that young slut Alicia, and his very own wife Victoria!
The three figures laughed as they stepped into the limo. Carson swore that he could see Alicia glance over her shoulder at his house, and wink as if she knew he were watching.
As the limo sped away, Carson was faced with a choice. He could leave his wife alone, and trust when she came back whatever story she chose to tell. Or he could abandon his sleeping children alone, just for a little while, and follow the limo to find his wife.
He agonized over the choice, going back and forth between options. But there was no time. He managed to jump into his car and race after the limo just as it turned a corner towards the downtown area of Washington, DC.
The car snaked and turned but Carson diligently followed. He could imagine so many nasty scenarios happening inside the harshly tinted windows. Alicia, topless, being felt up by Thomas Yardson’s muscular hands. Or even worse, his own wife Victoria!
But Carson never got the chance to see what was going on. Inexplicably, the car turned left onto Pennsylvania Avenue and turned through the gate of the White House itself.
Carson remembered something he had heard on the news a while back. Obama and the Democrats had been so certain of Hillary’s victory that he had promised to vacate the White House for the victory night in the unlikely scenario that Trump got the most votes. It looked like old Donald had actually cashed in on that bet!
It would be useless to try to get through the guards at the White House gate. I mean, these were the fucking secret service! He wouldn’t really be able to follow the limo through, would he?
But if he didn’t, then that meant his wife and that hot slut Alicia would be defenseless in a room full of the most powerful Trump-loving old men in the world. He couldn’t let that happen.
He rolled down his window as he pulled up the gate.
“I’m with Mr. Yardson,” he bluffed. The man ran down a clipboard.
Suddenly, a man with an AK47 emerged from the guard house.
“We have ID on this car. He’s been tailing Yardson unauthorized for the last few miles. We’ve been asked to detain him until we can understand his true incentives.”
“What?” Carson asked, panicking, “No, this is a huge mistake, I—”
The secret service grabbed him by his collar and yanked him out of the car. Three armed guards escorted him down some stairs, and threw him into a holding cell.
“We’ll be back sir,” the secret service agent said, leaving him in the cold brightly lit concrete cell. In front of him, two seated agents watched an array of bright monitors, showing different rooms of the white house in closed circuit fuzzy displays.
“Please, I can explain,” Carson pleaded, but the two agents ignored him.
“Quiet, or we’ll send you out to fucking Guantanamo,” one agent threatened. The other laughed. They slurped at a big gulp each in their hands, their feet on the desk.
“Check out Yardson,” the left said, pointing to the top monitor. Carson strained his neck, and was able to see the top monitor where Thomas Yardson walked arm in arm with Alicia and Victoria.
“You have to let me out,” Carson begged, “That’s my wife.”
Both men spun in their chairs to face him.
“The one with Yardson? Which one, the blonde or the fucking smokestack with the fine ass?”
“The older one,” Carson answered.
“Shit,” the other guard said, “You let your wife hang with Big Dick Yardson? You know he’s fucked half the women on capital hill.”
“Yeah, and half of the Senate’s wives,” the other laughed.
“Mmm, and he has picked up something special for this night. I mean, not to be offensive, but your wife is smoking hot.”
“Yeah she sure is. What’s she doing with a jailbird like you?”
“I’m not a jailbird,” Carson said defensively, “Your goon threw me in here, and—”
“What did you call the agent?” one guard said, standing up and rising towards Carson.
“Nothing,” Carson recoiled, pressing farther from the bars.
The guard waved his baton menacingly at the prisoner.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, laughing, and returned to his chair to watch the monitors.
“Where’s he headed?” the second guard asked.
“Looks like the oval office. They’re going to meet the new Chief.”
“Trump himself?” Carson asked incredulously, “My wife is going to meet him?”
“What the fuck did I say about talking?” the guard yelled, and Carson sat back down silently.
The guard switched the monitors so that Victoria and Alicia played on the biggest center screen. With a joystick in the center, he zoomed in on the women’s bodies, oggling their asses, tits, and lips.
“I think I can get upskirt on the wifie,” the second guard said, taking control of the joystick. Sure enough, the White House security was so advanced that they were able to zoom in directly under Victoria’s high heeled steps.
“Whoa!” they called, realizing Vitoria had no panties on. Her bright pink pussy flashed the men, and they grinned.
“She’s dripping!” they called, zooming in further.
“Not the first one to get wet to meet the President,” a guard said.
“You know, I heard when beautiful women are around him, they just can’t help themselves.”
“How could you blame him? She’s like a cow being led to the slaughter.”
“Yeah, but with nicer tits.” They laughed.
On screen, Yardson turned a corner. Sure enough, they reached the oval office, where two agents swung open the doors ceremoniously.
“Mr. President,” Yardson said, “God, I love saying that.”
“Tommy boy,” called Mr. Trump, “What have you brought me?”
“Two devoted voters from here in the DC area,” Yardson said, presenting Trump with the two beauties.
“My my,” he said, licking his lips, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Alicia,” the young girl said.
“And how old are you?”
“Turned 18 just in time to cast my ballot.”
“Hmm,” Trump said, “That’s what I like to hear. And your friend?”
“I’m Victoria, Mr. President.” She was flushed, with her chest beating and sweat forming at the base of her pert tan neck.
The President shook Alicia’s hand, and leaned in to kiss her young skin. When he reached Victoria, he pulled her body close to him, and the camera managed to catch his hand slide down her waist and land firmly on Victoria’s perky ass cheek.
“Got ‘em!” cried the secret service guards, laughing.
“Mr. President,” Victoria laughed nervously, excited like a young school girl.
“Relax,” he told her, and sat down on the Presidential desk.
“I need to clean this place out once Obama’s gone for good. You know, I said a lot of bad things about the Clintons, but at least Bill knew to use the White House as a pussy palace.”
“You can have any woman you want,’ Alicia reaffirmed to him, and he laughed.
“I know sweetheart, I know.”
Trump fiddled with his tie.
“Tommy,” he called to his adviser. Yardson stood at attention.
“You’ve been instrumental to me in this campaign. I’m going to have you set up in the cushiest, highest paid job I can find for you. You’re surely qualified. You know, besides for me, you’ve probably nailed more of these political broads than anyone else in the capital.”
“That’s probably right, sir,” Yardson said with a grin.
“So why don’t you take your pick of these ladies and head over to my hotel down the street. I’ll have the penthouse set up for you right away.”
“Thank you, Mr. President,” Yardson said, licking his lips.
Before Yardson could make a choice, Alicia stood up and waltzed over to the desk, and placed her firm young bottom onto the President’s lap.
“Don’t make me leave my Daddy,” she said, feigning a girlish face to Yardson.
“Jesus,” Trump said, grinning, wrapping his hand around Alicia’s fine waist, “You take the other then. I want this fiery one to myself.”
“Absolutely, Mr. President.” Thomas Yardson wrapped his arm around Victoria’s waist and led her out of the office.
“It was a pleasure meeting you,” she told the President, but he was too busty watching her perky ass shake as she left the room.
“Turn off the monitors,” Trump yelled to an agent, and suddenly the video on screen went blank. The audio continued. “I know those perverts in the Guard House are probably wetting themselves watching. They’ll have plenty of fun over the next eight years.”
The two guards laughed and the audio cut. With the Oval Office blacked out, the guards followed Yardson and Victoria out of the building.
“I just came for my wife,” Carson pleaded, “She’s leaving. Please just let me go.”
“You just watched the President of the United States feel up your wife,” they said, “I think that’s punishment enough.” They unlocked the cell and Carson ran scurrying back to his car.
He drove as fast as he could to the Trump hotel down the street.
He pulled up just as the elevator doors closed, taking Yardson and Victoria up to the penthouse. They couldn’t see him, he could see Victoria’s half drunken frame leaning on Yardson’s study chest, with his hand on her ass.
Carson rushed into. He tried to get up to the Penthouse suite but the elevator required authorization. He knew he didn’t have it.
“Please, could I get a room here?” he asked the desk, “Preferable one with a balcony, below the Penthouse suite.”
The hotel manager snarled. “If you’re paparazzi, I’m afraid you’re not very good at your job. The President isn’t here.”
“No, I’m not that,” Carson pleaded, shoving a credit card onto the desk. “Whatever it costs, please.”
“Really?” the manager said, his eyes lighting up with dollar signs. Carson paced nervously and grabbed his key cards when they were ready.
He rushed out on the balcony. It had worked. If he stood still, he could hear the faint voices of conversation in the suite above him.
“…And you say he never supported you?” Yardson asked.
“Not politically, no. He told me Trump was a cretin and a brute. But he voted Hillary!”
Yardson paused. “Your husband voted Hillary? I didn’t realize.” He stepped to the door.
“Maybe you should leave. Tonight is about celebrating Trump, and your mind wasn’t fully on his victory if your husband doesn’t even support him.”
“That’s absurd!” Victoria cried, rushing to Yardson, “My husband is an idiot for believing in Hillary. I promise, I’m pro-Trump down to my core.”
“Really? Why don’t you show me?”
Yardson reached into his pants and pulled out his soft prick. It was by far the largest one Victoria had ever seen.
“Oh my god,” Victoria said, unable to hold her gasp.
“If you really support Trump, then you’ll forget that wimpy husband of yourself and get down on your knees and suck this cock right now.”
Carson listened patiently to hear how his wife would decide.
But as he waited to hear her answer, a different noise emerged. It was like a water rushing through a clogged pipe, or a keg of beer, slowly emptying from a tiny tap. It was the gulping struggling wet sounds of his wife sucking down on the Yardson’s cock.
“Take that cock,” he yelled, and VIctoria obeyed instantly. She sucked down deeper, gargling and chortling.
“Jesus,” Carson said, panicking once more.
He heard the noise of Yardson fully unzipping his wife’s dress. The loud pop of the cock exiting her mouth, and her standing nude before the gargantuan man.
“Take me,” she begged, “Things have been so tepid since the campaigns started. My husband’s politics have made him a total turn off. When I saw Trump on the screen, talking about how weak we have become, all I had to do was see my own husband’s tiny limp penis to know that he was speaking the truth.
“How’s this look to you, baby,” Yardson said, waving his rod in her face, “Look like a tiny limp penis?”
“God no,” she said with pleasure, “It’s big and hard and I want it as deep inside of me as it will go.”
Yardson spun her over the sofa and spread her legs with his hands. Victoria let out an audible moan as the pick prick slid up her wet thighs and entered her.
“My god!” she called, feeling the warmth flood her body, “I haven’t been fucked properly in over a year.”
“You have never been fucked properly,” Yardson told her, rooting around inside her pussy, “You’re as tight as a new babe.”
“Fix it for me,” she begged, “Use that big cock and make me yours.”
“With pleasure,” he said, and thrust even deeper into her.
The noise of their lovemaking filled Carson’s ear drums. Overhead, he saw red white and blue fireworks emerge in continued celebration. He could see the horizon where the White House stood gleaming. Inside, Alicia’s pussy was likely well fucked and begging for more too.
The sun was coming up. Carson listened to his wife’s moans and panicked, realizing their kids would be awake soon and no one to be there.
“Fuck me! Fuck me until I’m yours!” VIctoria begged further.
Carson was torn. He could stay and monitor his wife, or he could ensure that their family wasn’t destroyed by his sneakiness that night.
Reluctantly, he stepped back into the room from the balcony. Even indoors, he could hear Victoria’s breathy sighs and Yardson’s tough grunts.
Then, as he reached the doorknob, SPLAT. The loud rushing noise like someone had thrown a balloon of paint onto the wall. VIctoria was being stuffed and gutted with the liquid like a juice box at the factory. She moaned and cried, begged for him to fill her with seed as deep as he could go.
“Mmmmm, you’re a nasty girl,” Yardson cried.
Carson waited a woman to hear them finish. Yardson withrew his penis from her body with a squishy sound, and semen dripped from her pussy and fell in clumps from her gaping whole.
“I’m dizzy,” Victoria cried, “I’ve never felt so well fucked in my life.”
“Here’s my card,” Yardson said, tossing one onto Victoria’s sticky nude body, “Call me sometime.”
And the door slammed shut.
Carson raced outside to hit the elevator. It opened to Yardson, who of course had no idea who Carson was. He got into the elevator with no fanfare.
Yardson was wearing his suit, but it was crumpled. His face was sweaty, and he was grinning. Carson could smell Victoria’s pussy all over him, mixed with the stench of his potent semen and their combined sweat.
“Great night, eh?” Yardson asked Carson.
“Um, yeah, of course,” Carson lied, “We finally won.” It was the first time he had ever lied about being a Trump supporter, but as the coming months grew darker, it wouldn’t be the last.
“Of course we won,” Yardson answered, “Fucking liberals don’t have a clue how to run this country. I’m telling you, things are going to change with a real power player in the white house.”
“Yes,” Carson said, weakly. The elevator doors opened and they stepped out.
Carson made it back home without getting stuck in traffic. His kids were still asleep where he left him, and he anxiously undressed and got into bed so as to seem like nothing was wrong.
About an hour later, he heard the door creep open and Victoria step in.
He turned his eye half-open. She was still in her short dress, with her high heels clicking. She balanced on one leg to take it off, and Carson got a glimpse of her raw pink pussy, clean and tight as if the whole night never happened. Her hair was clearly freshly washed, and he could smell the fine soaps she must have used at the hotel.
Victoria undressed until she was bare naked. She often slept in the nude, so it wouldn’t have been unusual for Carson to wake up to his wife’s stunning body on display in the morning light.
She crawled into bed and let her head hit the pillow. As soon as he was sure she was asleep, he rose, staring at her. She looked like a baby she was so fast asleep. Getting fucked by a giant cock will do that to you.
Carson felt guilt and dread, but his wife looked undeniably hot in her birthday suit laying on their plain white linens. He felt his own cock stiffen, even after all he had witnessed.
“Jesus,” he thought, “What the fuck happened tonight?”
He turned on the news, with the sound on mute and the captions on. Everyone reported on Trump’s victory, and the liberal media mourned the loss of the first female president.
Images of Trump appeared on every channel. Carson couldn’t help but imagine what fun the man had had with Alicia after they left.
With alarm, the screen flashed to an image of Thomas Yardson, in an expense dark suit. The man looked smug even in a still image. It was like he was staring at Carson and saying, in clear language, how well he had fucked his wife.
The screen flashed to more Trump, and Carson stepped out of the bed. He went down to grab the newspapers from the front yard.
“Morning, Carson!” called a cheery voice from a neighbor’s house. It was Sam Posner, whose busty wife Carson had witnessed being fucked by three men at Ronny’s party.
“Ugh, morning,” Carson said awkwardly.
“Any clue where my wife is? She didn’t come home last night. I assume working late at the office, but I know she and Vicky are so close.”
“No clue,” Carson lied, imagining Dot’s big breasts with those three animals back at the Trump party.
Inside, he found his wife already awake. Just a quick snooze to hide that she had been out all night.
“Morning sweetheart,” she said, “Did you have a good cry last night while the rest of America was out celebrating?”
“Very funny,” he said.
“Why don’t you make me some coffee since my party won?”
“I’ll make you coffee, but are you going to hold this over my head for the entire time Trump is president?”
“Oh hubby,” Victoria said knowingly, “I think a lot is going to change around here now that we have a real man in the white house. You making me coffee, and eggs, and bacon, is just the start.”
Carson went back down to the kitchen to fix Victoria’s breakfast. On the radio, Trump’s booming voice echoed throughout the room, promising to Make America Great Again.
All Carson could hear was his wife, moaning and moaning, over and over.
