The President swirled her way through the state dinner, in her usual style. Charming, ingratiating, and working every political angle in every conversation, like a Lyndon Johnson with tits. Whether they were guests and dignitaries meeting her for the first time, or Washington insiders that had known her for years, all were struck by her ability to capture and hold a room. It didn’t hurt, that on top of her intelligence, wit, and power, she was gorgeous.
Among the younger presidents at only forty-six, her Latina heritage helped to preserve her beauty and make her appear even younger. “Black don’t crack and brown don’t frown,” as her naughty Puerto Rican aunt had often told her. She was called “unpresidential” by her critics, who whined about her long hair, and her preference for stylish outfits. But, the polls indicated that most found her inspiring.
As President Perez made the rounds in her stunning red gown, she kept an eye on the handsome Marine guards standing at attention by the ballroom entrance. They were in their dress blues, swords and all. Yum, she thought to herself.
She had been into men in uniform since she was a teenager. Skinny, gangly, bespectacled Sylvia had the run of Colonel Perez’s Air Force base. She spent most nights under the covers jilling her clit, imagining one or more of the handsome fly boys banging her to orgasm. At seventeen, when she blossomed into a spectacular beauty, the flyboys were beating-off, thinking about her. On return visits from Yale, she had her pick of the studly litter. Among many other delightful episodes, she had taken a spectacular fucking on the wing of an F-18, just to say she had.
The President was familiar with both of the guards — very familiar. A couple of weeks prior, Corporal Jackson had fucked her by the Camp David pool until both feet cramped from her toes curling so much. She happily shuddered at the thought of the orgasm that had ripped through her, the fourth time he had dogged her on the chaise lounge. She had blown the handsome Lance Corporal Hernandez on Marine One just earlier that week. Mmmmm, that was some sweet cum, she thought, as she discussed the tax bill with the junior senator from Tennessee.
Per protocol, the Chinese Ambassador and his wife left first. The President and the First Gentleman left shortly thereafter. The President winked at Corporal Jackson as she passed. He and Lance Corporal Hernandez clicked heels and followed the Presidential couple. Sylvia nodded toward the armed marines and waved-off her Secret Service agents. Jeffrey, the First Gentleman, had long understood that the best way to hold on to Sylvia was to let her go. As the foursome approached the hallway to the East Wing, Jeffrey kissed Sylvia, and he headed to the Lincoln bedroom by himself.
“Boys,” the President said, taking the handsome marines by their arms, “I think I have some unfinished business in the Oval. I think I need an escort. Shall we?”
“Yes, Madam President!” They answered in unison.
Jackson had been in the Oval Office before; Hernandez had not. It seemed surprisingly small to him, compared to his expectations. The President pointed at her back, and Corporal Jackson dutifully tugged the zipper to her butt dimples. In just a few strides she proceeded to discard her spectacular gown until she was in bra and panties. By the time she had rounded the ornately carved Resolute Desk, those, too, were tossed onto the Kennedy-Blue carpet. She let out a most unpresidential squeal when she kicked off her heels and one bounced off the bust of Winston Churchill. Whoops, she thought.
“Marines!” The President shouted. “Let’s see those swords! And, I don’t mean the shiny ones.”
The young men began the arduous and lengthy process of peeling-off their endless layers of sashes, belts, jackets, shirts, stockings, and underwear. Sylvia sighed at the delay, but then realized she enjoyed the show. She crawled atop the Presidential desk and sat cross-legged as she played with her Executive Branch. The green leather blotter was quickly covered with her drippings as she took in the martial beefcake in front of her.
At last, their Marine uniforms were replaced by the uniform of a naked youth. Sylvia found herself salivating at the sight of their muscled shoulders, pecs, and abs. She was captivated most of all by their delicious cocks, which stood at weeping attention.
The President hopped-off the desk and sauntered seductively to the Presidential seal in the center of the room. She knelt atop the Eagle and beckoned the marines with a salacious smile.