It was getting late, and Penny was looking forward to opening the bottle of white wine that had been chilling in her fridge for the last couple of hours. She had just finished signing off the last paper in her Ministerial red box, when to her annoyance her laptop inbox ‘pinged’ at her.

She was even more annoyed when she saw that the message was from her soon-to-be-ex-husband. The recent uncovering by an investigative journalist of his numerous dodgy business deals had very nearly derailed her political career before it had properly begun. Only her prompt action in throwing him out of the house and handing over his computer to the police had enabled her to ride out the storm, playing the betrayed and innocent wife to perfection. Naturally, he hadn’t taken this terribly well, but she had so far managed to keep him at arm’s length while the lawyers sorted out the details of their divorce, which she fervently hoped would be finalised before his fraud trial in a few months time.

She was also pretty certain that emailing her wasn’t allowed under the terms of the restraining order she had taken out to prevent him from contacting her, but she somehow couldn’t help reading the short message.

“Dear Bitch,” (it began, in typically classy style)

“Congratulations on your new post in the last reshuffle. You’ve got what you wanted, but enjoy it while you can. You screwed me over, and now it’s my turn. I’ve sent the attached to all the main British papers, and made sure it’s all over the net as well. Don’t worry, it’s too late to stop it now. Enjoy.”

Her heart sank as she looked at the attachment, knowing straight away what it was. She clicked on it, and watched with resignation as it began to play. As she had guessed, it was a copy of the tape they had made a couple of years previously in her new Parliamentary office, the one with the window looking out on the River Thames. It started with some pretty harmless scenes of her toying with the decidedly phallic trophy she had received from “Nads” magazine as “Hottest New MP 2010”, but moved very quickly to scenes of her with her skirt around her waist, panties round her ankles, and the trophy buried deep inside her vagina.

Soon, her husband’s trousers were round his ankles too, and she was sucking enthusiastically on his erect penis. They then undressed each other, and he fucked her enthusiastically on her desk before pulling out and spraying her tits and face with copious quantities of thick white semen.

The whole thing was pretty hot, considering it had only been filmed on a little video camera standing in the corner of the room, but maybe not appropriate for a member of the UK Parliament; certainly not one who had recently taken on her first Ministerial portfolio. Once upon a time, she’d have been rubbing her clit well before the end, but somehow she didn’t feel so aroused by the action this time. She went to the fridge, poured herself a very large glass of wine, and swigged down at least half of it. This didn’t look good. It didn’t look good at all.

She reached for the phone, and her finger hovered over the speed-dial number for the government-funded law firm who had advised her about her divorce, but then she changed her mind. Instead, her finger pressed the number for Martin. The lawyers could wait: Martin would know what to do.

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“Fucking hell, Penny,” said Martin as he watched the video start to play. He said it again rather a lot during the twenty minutes it lasted, along with a range of other increasingly intense expletives.

“You certainly had a good time, didn’t you?” he commented wryly as the video came to an end with Penny leaning over to switch off the camera, spunk dripping off her face.

“Yes, yes, I know,” said Penny. “The PM’s not exactly going to be over the moon when this hits his desk in the morning. But you’re the spin doctor – surely you can think of a way to spin this?”

Martin bristled slightly. “I prefer the term ‘communications and strategy executive’ if you don’t mind,” he grumbled, but she could see that he was starting to relish the challenge. She suspected he got bored by his day-to-day job of spinning routine policy initiatives to put the Government in the best possible light. Managing shit-storms like this was much more up his street.

“Ok,” he said, “First things first. If he’s sent it to all the papers, we need to get in touch and find out what they plan to do with it. As far as the content goes, they’ll probably print a few stills, though how explicit they are will probably depend on the paper. And of course the sub-editors will have a field day. If at least two of them don’t use the headline ‘Member of Porn-iament’, I’ll eat one of your used tampons.”

Penny sighed. Martin was shit-hot at his job, but political correctness just wasn’t in his dictionary.

“Of course,” he went on, “there are no restrictions at all on the internet, so the whole fucking thing’s probably gone viral by now. You might want to have a look while I make some phone calls”.

Penny took her laptop into the next room while Martin got to work. As he’d expected, practically every video porn site she tried featured her tape, and the blogosphere was already buzzing. The days when you could hush up a potential sex scandal by burning a few letters were long gone.

After a while, Martin wandered in.

“Ok,” he announced, putting his mobile phone back in his pocket. “Obviously all the papers have cleared their front pages to run with this one. They’ll certainly print stills from it, probably with the naughty bits blanked out, but as explicit as they feel they can get away with. We can’t stop them: they’ll claim it is legitimate public interest, which I’m afraid is fair comment. And I was right about the internet, wasn’t I?”

Penny nodded sheepishly.

“So now every part of the world with internet access will be able to see you enjoying getting fucked stupid, and there is fuck all we can do to stop it. I’ve spoken to the PM; he’s livid, as you can imagine, and not just because I had to get him out of bed. But I’ve persuaded him to hold off hauling you in to sack you, for the time being at least. But we need a strategy, and quickly. Have you got any whisky?”

And he sank down into an armchair with his electronic tablet. Penny knew better than to interrupt him when he was thinking, so she got out a bottle of her finest single malt and poured Martin a large one, before pouring herself one as well. She mused on how different things would have been if she’d never met her bastard of a husband at a party, when she was just a local councillor with big ambitions. Fuck all good those ambitions were now.

Eventually, Martin sat up. He looked at her with a very peculiar smile on his face.

“Right, Penny” he said. “The fact is, this is the omnifuck to end all omnifucks. So we need something drastic to spin it our way. And I think I have an idea. I have absolutely no idea if it will work, but if it does, then your career is safe. If it fails, you’re really fucked. But if we do nothing, you’re fucked anyway. So, if you’re ready to take the biggest gamble of your political career, here’s what we do.”

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They talked energetically until five o’clock in the morning, when Penny went upstairs to bed, as instructed by Martin. He had all her phones patched through to his mobile, and dragged several of his most trusted deputies out of their beds to take up residence outside her house, to fend off the media scrum that started to form at around dawn. When he was buzzing like this, Martin rarely felt the need for sleep, so he was lively and alert when he opened the door to the assembled journalists at around ten a.m.

“The Minister has nothing to say at the moment,” was all they could get out of him. “You’ve all seen the video, which was released by her estranged husband who is a criminal with a grudge.”

“There’s a General Election in less than three weeks,” said one of the reporters.” Does this mean that the present Government is doomed, and Ms Fielding is heading for the dole queue?”

“No comment,” said Martin firmly.

“Can you comment instead on the allegations that the Minister isn’t a natural blonde?” asked a reporter, and the rest of his colleagues guffawed.

“The Prime Minister will make a statement in the House this afternoon before PMQs, deploring the papers for publishing these pictures,” Martin said, ignoring the journalist’s question completely. “This is a clear case of unwarranted press intrusion into a personal matter, and our lawyers are looking at the case already.”

“That’s not the sort of intrusion she’s interested in,” said another reporter, to more laughter.

Martin smiled brightly. “The Minister will be considering interview bids during the course of the day,” he said. “You should submit them to me at my usual e-mail address. Good morning.”

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“Hello, this is Justin Porter, and welcome to ‘This Day Tonight’, on a day when one of the most spectacular personal scandals to hit a member of the present, or indeed any, UK Government threatens to spectacularly derail its chances of re-election in two weeks time. And, in a major coup for this programme, we have secured the first interview with the MP concerned; the Minister for Administrative Affairs, the Right Honourable Penelope Fielding.”

The camera left the presenter and panned round to reveal Penny sitting at the table, in one of her most elegant outfits. She wore the Armani suit that she had worn on the day she went to Number 10 to receive her new Ministerial portfolio, along with her best pair of black Louboutins: rather higher heels than she would have worn in the House, but which she knew showed her long legs to their best advantage. There was a small audience in the studio with them, and she peered at the mass of faces, trying to judge whether their attitude was supportive or hostile, but the studio lights made it hard to tell.

She had been surprised when Martin had rejected all other media bids for an interview, because Justin Porter was famous for his ruthless and probing questioning. But she could see why he wanted to hold out for a late-night TV slot: not least because the media interest had just got more and more intense all day long. And ‘This Day Tonight’ was the BBC’s flagship current affairs show – she’d been longing to get on it for years, although probably not in these circumstances.

Justin Porter had been all smiles while they did the sound and camera tests, informing her that the producers were expecting a record audience for the programme that night. The planned schedule had been scrapped, and the entire programme given over to her interview. She tried to look calm as Justin turned to her as she sat alongside him; not too close but not too far away either.

“Well, Minister,” he began, “We’re used to seeing sex tapes by C-list celebrities, usually put online by their PR companies to resurrect interest in their fading careers, but I think we can safely assume you had no knowledge of this in advance.”

“Certainly not, Justin,” said Penny earnestly. “As you know, my ex-husband has a grudge against me because I threw him out when I found out about his criminal activities…”

“Well, I understand your divorce has yet to be finalised, so he’s not quite your ex-husband yet, and we shouldn’t pre-judge the result of his trial,” interrupted Justin firmly.

“Well, as far as I’m concerned he’s about as “ex” as it’s possible to be,” countered Penny resolutely. “And if he thinks he’s going to ruin my life by this shabby action, then he’d better think again.”

There was an encouraging ripple of supportive applause from the audience. At this stage, they seemed ready to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“But surely this tape is a bit of a game changer,” went on Justin. “It’s not the sort of behaviour constituents expect from their elected Member of Parliament, is it?”

“Well, Justin, I think I have to disagree with you there. So my soon-to-be-ex-husband sends a private tape to the media? Well, in my book that makes him an obnoxious, untrustworthy, vengeful little shit, but it doesn’t make me any less able to represent my constituents or do my job on behalf of my country. So I like to fuck, and I like to masturbate? Well, no shit, Sherlock!”

There was a collective gasp from the audience at this, and even Justin was taken aback. Clearly, he hadn’t expected such a response.

“Look, Justin,” she said, leaning towards him and putting on her most earnest “trust me, I’m a politician” voice. “Everyone loves to fuck. I doubt there’s anyone out there watching who doesn’t fuck whenever they get the chance. They may not want to fuck me, or even you, but I bet they want to fuck someone. And what exactly is wrong with that? We were married to each other at the time, both consenting adults. What exactly is the problem? I love to fuck, and I bet you do too. What does your wife do when you get into bed at night? Kiss you on the cheek and go to sleep? No, I bet she makes you shag her until the bed-springs collapse. I know I would.”

During the course of this, Justin was clearly getting some sort of message from the producer through his earpiece, but he hadn’t stopped her yet, and as far as she could tell the cameras were still rolling. Instead, he gave Penny a slightly supercilious smile and fiddled with his clipboard.

“Well, Minister, I’m not sure Mrs Porter would wish me to comment on that,” he said.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” replied Penny. “And another thing – what’s so wrong with my tits that most of the papers couldn’t print pictures without blacking out the best bits of them? Hell, I’m proud of my tits. At least the “Moon” had the honesty to show them in all their glory. Thanks guys,” and she winked at the camera.

“I’m sure the viewers will be rushing out to buy the paper after that endorsement, Minister,” commented Justin.

“Why don’t I save them the trouble?” asked Penny, really getting into the swing of things now. “For the benefit of those of you who didn’t see the “Moon” today, or haven’t got internet access, have a look at what you’re missing.”

As she spoke, she slipped off her jacket, laid it carefully on the table, and started to unbutton her white blouse. After a couple of buttons, the edges of her lacy pale pink bra came into view. As the last one came undone, she pulled the blouse open so her magnificent round boobs, barely contained by the low-cut bra, spilled out.

“I bet you wish this programme went out in 3-D,” she smiled, as she slid the sleeves of her blouse down her arms.

“Erm, well, thank you, Minister,” stammered Justin. “I think we get the general idea.”

“Oh come on, Justin, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

And she reached behind her and unclipped her bra. In one deft movement she pulled it off, spun it round her head, and threw it into the audience, where it was deftly caught by a young woman. Penny’s firm breasts, topped with their dark red nipples, jiggled slightly.

“So just what is wrong with these, eh, Justin?” she asked with a cheeky smile, putting her hands underneath them and bouncing them up and down. “Why shouldn’t I let everyone out there have a look? I’m not ashamed of them; why should I be? Unlike my shitty almost-ex, I’ve got nothing to hide.”

She stroked her hands over her bare breasts, circling her fingers round her nipples, which hardened instantly at her touch until they stuck out like the proverbial chapel coat-pegs.

“Mind you,” went on Penny, “those of you with internet access have probably seen the other half of me as well. So I might as well share that too.”

She stood up and carefully unzipped her matching designer skirt, letting it slip to the floor. Underneath, she was wearing not tights, but stockings and a suspender belt, with a very skimpy pink thong.

“What do you think, Justin?” she asked, spinning round to let him get a look at the firm cheeks of her bum. “Would you vote for me?”

“I don’t think my political views are relevant at this moment in time,” said Justin, who had gone very red. “But if it’s any comfort, I think you get your lingerie from the same shop as Mrs Porter.”

“In that case, she has excellent taste,” said Penny, and with a final flourish she hooked her fingers into the sides of her thong and, with another wink at the cameras, slid it gracefully down her legs.

By this time, she imagined the programme had been taken off the air, and the UK’s TV screens replaced with a picture of a kitten or an old episode of “EastEnders”, but she wasn’t in the mood to stop now. Even if she wasn’t going out live, she could see that the cameras were still rolling. Someone wanted to see just how far she would go. Ok, she’d show them.

She had waxed her pubic area carefully, leaving just a little flourish of dark hairs on her mound. Sitting back in her chair, she spun round to face the cameras and spread her legs, giving everyone a fine view of her slit and her prominent labia.

“So there you are,” she said. “Feast your eyes on this.”

“I think you’ve made your point now, Minister,” said Justin, and stood up, getting ready to cover her up. But to her delight she saw that there was a massive bulge in his trousers that he was trying unsuccessfully to hide behind his clipboard.

“I can tell you like what you see,” she giggled, and before he could protest she reached over, grabbed hold of him, and pulled down his fly zip. She thrust her hand inside his trousers, and fumbled around in his underwear until to her delight her hand found his hot, thick, erect penis.

She noticed that he wasn’t making much of an effort to stop her, so she deftly pulled out his erection. To her delight, it was an impressive specimen: probably eight inches long and pretty thick to boot.

“Mmm, lucky Mrs P,” she murmured, and gave it a couple of tugs. The purple knob- end was hard and shiny, and she bent over and put it in her mouth for a moment, licking her tongue around the smooth helmet and round the sensitive rim.

“I’m not sure about this,” Justin began to say, but Penny shushed him.

“Well, I am,” she said. “And I think this part of you is pretty sure too.”

Clearly deciding that there was no point in resisting any longer, Justin shuffled forward again until the shiny purple tip of his cock bumped against her lips. She stuck out her tongue and licked at it, tasting a little drop of salty pre-cum that bubbled out from the little slit, and making it jerk again. Leaning forward a little, she closed her lips around the knob end and began to manipulate it with her mouth, sucking gently on the end and rubbing her lips over it.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” Justin began to mutter, going a bit red and starting to tremble. He arched his pelvis forward, pushing his cock further into her mouth. She felt the knob bobbing against the back of her throat, threatening to make her gag, but she sucked harder on the shaft, encouraging him to push deeper. There were still several inches left outside, but she raised her head slightly, trying to line up her throat with the angle of her mouth.

Supporting himself on the desk, Justin leant over to get the angle of his cock right, and Penny felt it sliding down. Now her mouth was buried in his pubic hair, the whole length of him down her throat. She used her tongue to lick at the shaft while she squeezed her lips tight around his member, sucking as hard as she could. Before very long she felt it pulsating, and saw his arm muscles tightening as he gripped the desk, his orgasm approaching fast. She felt his cock swell even more as his semen began to boil up its length, and could swear she felt it with her tongue as the thick gooey liquid surged up the length of his cock and ejaculated out of the end, straight down her throat.

The first spurt was so hard and copious that it did make her gag for a moment, and she let his length slide up out of her throat so that the next spurts filled her mouth instead. Warm and gooey, his cum was slightly sweet, not at all nasty. She opened her mouth and let his cock slide out, slippery and coated in a sheen of his own semen. A last couple of gobbets spurted out onto her tits. She rolled his semen around inside her mouth, tasting it with her tongue, then let some of it slide out and run down her chin. A big thick mass of it hung down for a moment before falling onto her chest and running down between her tits.

“That was tasty,” she said, licking her lips, “But how about me next?” What she really wanted was a fuck, but she guessed that Justin’s penis might need a few minutes to recover. She sat on the edge of the desk and opened her legs. The folds of her labia were already wet with anticipation.

Justin smiled, knowing what she wanted. Quickly he removed his shirt, revealing his firmly toned chest, and knelt down on the floor, before placing one hand on the bare expanse of thigh at the top of each leg. As his tongue began to lick over her labia, Penny wrapped her legs around his back and began to rub the heels of her Louboutins up and down his spine.

“Oh fuck,” she thought, “he really knows what he’s doing down there.” Flicking his tongue in and out of her slit, sucking her labia gently into his mouth, and sucking gently on her aroused clitoris, he was doing all the right things to bring her towards her orgasm. She could also see that several members of the audience were getting into the act. A few men had their cocks out and were masturbating enthusiastically, and at least one woman had her face buried in a man’s lap, his cock deep down her throat.

Justin now had two of his fingers inside her vagina, and was curling them up to stimulate her g-spot while using his tongue and lips on her clit. That was all it took to finish her off. Pushing her pussy into his face, she began to shake as her orgasm took her by storm, thrilling through her whole body.

As she lay there panting, her body glowing with arousal, Justin stood up and took off his remaining clothing. His cock was hard again by now, and he took it in his hand and positioned it at the entrance to Penny’s hole. He rubbed the shiny knob teasingly over her puffy aroused labia, coating it in her juices.

“Fuck yes, come on,” she breathed, and he gently thrust his pelvis forward, guiding his cock between her lips into her warm, wet cunt. She sighed as she took it all inside her, and began to move with him as he started to fuck her. His thick cock filled her to perfection, and she put her hand on her already aroused clit as he thrust in and out. She could smell the sharp, sweet scent of her juices as they ran out and dribbled down her thighs. But something on the desk was digging into her back, and she sat up, causing Justin’s cock to slip momentarily out of her.

“Just a minute,” she gasped, and turned round so she was lying face down on the desk, her bare bum sticking up in the air. Justin put his hand on her back and began to feed his hard cock back inside her soaking wet vagina, but Penny stopped him.

“Not there, Justin,” she said. “Stick it in my arse.”

Justin needed no further invitation. Bracing her against the desk, he parted her bum cheeks and gazed at the small puckered hole. She felt the tip of his cock, still lubricated with her own pussy juices, pressing against it. Her sphincter tightened automatically at his touch, and she consciously relaxed it again to help him force his way in. She held her breath as she felt him pressing harder against her, and her hole slowly opened under the pressure of his thick cock. She’d never taken one so thick up her arse before, and she wondered for a moment if her tight hole would stretch enough.

Then at last she felt the knob-end suddenly pop inside. Justin paused, then began to slowly push the rest of his thick cock inside, inch by inch. Leaning over, he spat on his cock to add some more lubrication, and at last she felt his balls slap gently against her stocking-clad thighs. All eight inches were up her. As she tried to start breathing again, Justin pulled out a little, then pushed back in, starting to fuck her faster and faster.

“Oh yes, keep going,” she whispered, “Oh fuck, that’s tight.”

It did hurt a bit, but in a good way. Justin was thrusting faster and faster now, his balls slapping harder against her, clearly heading towards his climax, and she wondered if he was planning to pull out and cum all over her bum cheeks. But instead he held himself inside her, and cried out as he filled her arse with spurt after spurt of spunk. At last his emissions stopped, and he slowly withdrew, his cock now coated in a slick coating of his own semen. As he finally pulled out, a load of thick white goo glooped out of her hole and onto the floor.

Penny rolled over and leant against the desk. She put her hand under her arse and caught the last gobbets of semen as they dribbled out. As his erection slowly subsided, Justin turned to the cameras.

“They do say that actions speak louder than words,” he announced, “And I don’t think we could have had a more eloquent defence of the fact that a jolly good fuck is something to be celebrated and enjoyed. I’d like to thank the Minister for Administrative Affairs for her very special contribution to today’s programme, and hope you’ll join me again tomorrow for another ‘This Day Tonight’”.

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“Fucking hell, Penny,” said Martin afterwards. “When I suggested you got your tits out, I thought that would be enough. You didn’t have to go all the way.”

To their surprise, the BBC hadn’t stopped the broadcast at all, so the whole of Penny and Justin’s sexual escapades had been broadcast live across the nation. The earliest editions of the morning papers still carried coverage of her photo set, but the front pages of the later editions (and substantial parts of the inside pages as well) were given over to her barnstorming performance on ‘This Day Tonight’. She was slightly disappointed that her uncensored nipples hadn’t actually made it onto the front pages, but many of them carried a nice rear shot of her bum in her little thong. Inside, though, her bare breasts were on page 3 of pretty much every paper (not just that of the “Moon”), along with several of Justin Porter’s bum as he thrust into her.

Martin had smartly managed to get in touch with Mrs Porter, and used his considerable charm to persuade her to be a sport and provide some good quotes about Justin’s insatiable sex drive and how much she was looking forward to punishing him when he got home. Martin didn’t admit it to Penny, but he’d found (as he’d hoped) that she hadn’t needed much persuading. She was well known in media circles for her kinky sexual tastes, and would probably have joined her husband and Penny on the table given half a chance.

And of course the social media were in uproar. Penny wasn’t just “trending” on Twitter; it was probably fair to say that she was Twitter. Although the BBC’s i-Player very soon collapsed under the phenomenal demand, the video of her latest exploits soon spread across the rest of the net as well. The important thing was that the vast majority of people were thoroughly supportive, and agreed totally with her argument that there was nothing wrong with a good fuck.

Martin stretched like a satisfied cat. “I have to admit, I never thought it would work as well as it did,” he said. “It just shows the British public aren’t such prudes after all.”

“Whatever can I do to thank you?” said Penny. “You really are the Spin King.”

Martin winked, and began to undo his belt.

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Postscript

Faced with such public acclaim for his Minister’s honesty, sense of fun, and spirited defence of the pleasures of sexual activity, the Prime Minister had little option other than to give her his full support. Attempts by the Opposition to take an opposite view very soon misfired spectacularly when it became clear that the public were very much in favour of Penny’s actions. The opinion polls showed a massive surge of support for her and her Party in general, which led to them being returned to Parliament with a massive majority at the General Election. In fact, Penny’s personal majority was so huge that the Electoral Commission carried out a recount, on the basis that even in Zimbabwe it wasn’t possible for one individual to secure quite such a high percentage of the total vote. Her world-wide popularity encouraged the PM to promote her to a post as a Junior Minister in the Foreign Office, where she was a stunning success wherever she went.

And, as the icing on the cake, her by-this-time-very-definitely-ex-husband was found guilty on all charges, and jailed for a considerable period of time. In prison, he was more than a little upset to find that his appearance on the original sex tape meant that his own arse was very much in demand.