She pushed open the bathroom door, hoping to make enough noise to wake the president. He was always nodding off, and today she’d drawn the short straw and found herself tasked with waking sleeping beauty.
“Are you sleeping?” She asked, though it was abundantly clear he was dozing in the tub.
Startled, the president opened his eyes, “No. Of course not!”
She smirked, “Of course.”
He adjusted to make sure she hadn’t barged in on an eyeful (she hadn’t), but remained surprisingly relaxed about his unexpected lady visitor.
“What are you doing in here?”
“I’m sorry, they sent me to fetch you,” she explained, inching closer to the tub. She was curious, and not sorry at all, but it seemed prudent to feign embarrassment.
“You are fetching.”
She blushed. His charms were working. It was impossible to feel threatened by a husky naked man in a bathtub, and frankly she welcomed his compliments.
“Well, your guests are arriving so I’m sorry for the intrusion but you should probably finish getting ready, sir.” She reached for a bath towel, intending to offer it to him.
“Or you could join me,” he grinned, his impressive mustache twitching.
“Mr. President,” she shook her head, but discarded the towel.
“Consider it. Look at the size of this bathtub — there’s plenty of room.”
He wasn’t wrong: the bath could comfortably hold four average sized men, and would surely accommodate her if she decided to jump in. A warm bath was an inviting luxury, and the president had caught her mid-dry spell. It was the perfect recipe for a rather questionable life choice.
She shrugged, “Alright.”
Despite his flirting, it was clear he hadn’t anticipated it would work. Honestly, he was normally all talk. Sure, I’ll continue your legacy of conservation, Mr. Roosevelt. Things like that.
“Why not?” She began removing her dress, anxious for a future in which women’s clothing was less cumbersome. “Unless you were bluffing?”
“Uhh no of course I wasn’t bluffing,” he stammered, amazed as her dress dropped to the floor.
“This doesn’t usually work for you, does it?”
He swallowed nervously, “Posturing rarely denotes practice.”
“Well, we certainly don’t have to do anything. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to come here, and that’s pretty much the end of my list.” He was lying again; he also wanted free trade with Canada and a seat on the Supreme Court, but in the moment he didn’t feel that was relevant.
She lowered herself into the water, straddling him. Neither of them had anticipated the difficulties of boning in the giant tub, but they were past the point where turning back was an option. She felt his erection (he was girthy where it counted, too), and met his eyes as she guided it inside her.
“Oh Jesus fucking Christ,” she moaned, eyes widening as he levied his tax on her income.
He was giddy; this was his best idea since dollar diplomacy. “I can’t believe we are doing this you feel amazing.”
She nodded, and he wrapped his arms around her as she rode him. Her hands found the edge of the tub for leverage and she bounced on his future chief justice, splashing water everywhere.
“We’re making a mess,” she laughed.
The president was no stranger to water displacement messes, and certainly wasn’t about to start caring now. He thrust up to meet her, and pulled her forward. She kissed him greedily, his mustache tickling her face. He was frankly not much of a kisser; it was too sloppy, uncontrolled, very unlike his measured takedown of US Steel. But, it didn’t matter, because his thick rod was diplomatically invested in her southern hemisphere, and the way he was able to hold her aloft in the water was ensuring her angles were hit just right. It was bringing her close to orgasm already, and she tried to slow her pace and make this absurd moment last.
“Let’s go to your room, I need to have you on the bed,” she announced.
He nodded, but appeared a bit nervous, and she realized the water had been a welcome security blanket for them both.
“Come, baby,” she purred. “Let me fuck you.”
That certainly helped, and she led him to the bed, both dripping wet. She wasted no time pushing him down, and climbing back on top of him. He was at her mercy now, and she was going to get what she wanted.
She didn’t mind doing the work; she still wasn’t even sure she was completely attracted to him, and she knew his habit of removing black government employees offended her to her liberal cuck core. But as long as she rode him, she knew she was in charge of the republic, and that felt pretty fucking good.
“That’s it, baby, use me,” he instructed her.
“Shut up, I’m getting close.”
She bounced up and down, and he thrust deeper inside her, stretching her like the seventh inning of a baseball game. He reached up and pinched her erect nipple.
“Oh baby keep doing that,” she directed, moaning. It was everything she needed; the combination of his cock and firm hands was going to make her come, and she didn’t even mind that it was going to be on this curious but affable president.
“That’s right sweetheart, come for me,” he encouraged.
She reached around, found his balls, and stroked them as she moved up and down on him. She was going to come now, and her breath quickened while her pussy tightened and she screamed as he pinched harder god why was this so good this was completely unexpected. She came, hard, which was exactly what he needed to finish and they orgasmed together as she realized she could’ve had this whole experience in the brand new oval office.
Oh well. There was always next time.