The Candidate—Part 2 of 3
They made it back to Boston late that night and went straight to Donna’s Beacon Hill home. They had lost the press, probably for as long as they needed since the official schedule didn’t have them back in Boston for two more days. Susan insisted on staying in the guest room and taking Donna to the clinic in the morning. She didn’t want to risk anyone else being exposed to the candidate in her present condition.
Jeff was going to take a taxi home, but he lived an hour away in Pinehurst and Donna insisted that he stay in the other guest room. Susan decided that was probably a good idea. The young bodyguard had proven very resourceful that night and he might prove useful in getting Donna to the clinic discretely. They all went to their respective rooms, two of them, at least, feeling exhausted from the days events. Donna, however, was still bubbling with excitement over how the the truck drivers had taken to her.
Donna felt vindicated in the morning Susan burst in with the newspaper.
“Check it out, Donna!” she cried happily, pointing to the headline that read ‘TEAMSTERS ENDORSE TRAVERS’. The campaign manager’s happiness was added to by the fact that Donna had no more hair or boobs than she had last night. She was also showing a modicum of modesty, holding the sheet over her enlarged mammaries with a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks.
“I told you everything would be fine!” said Donna. “The boys really like me, and it doesn’t hurt to give them a little thrill. If you’ve got it, flaunt it!”
“Don’t kid yourself, Donna,” she chided. “We got lucky. If the religious right had seen you last night, they’d be calling to have you stoned. And the press isn’t all good. Some of the ladies at the League of Women Voters were really offended, though your speech doesn’t even get mentioned until page eight. But worst of all, there’s an article speculating over your change in appearance. They got pictures of you going in to see the teamsters, though not coming out, thank God!
Donna pouted. “I think my hair looks nice,” she protested. “And my boobies are pretty too and they feel good!”
Susan sighed, a look of sympathy and concern replacing the stern one.
“I know it might seem that way, Donna” she said, taking her hand, “But you just haven’t been yourself lately. It’s not just your body that’s been changing. You’ve been acting...odd. If Dr. Wang can’t identify what’s wrong with you, I really think you should see a psychiatrist.”
“But I feel fine, Susan!” objected Donna, “More than fine. I feel great! I have so much energy lately. Why, you should have seen me last night! I was...”
There was a chocking sound from the adjoining bathroom. Susan looked aghast.
“Donna,” she said pointedly, “who is in the bathroom?”
Her question was answered by the door opening to reveal Jeff, looking exhausted and very ashamed.
“You son of a bitch,” Susan exclaimed in a low, deadly voice. “How could you? Can’t you see that she’s sick?”
“I...I’m sorry,” stammered the bodyguard. “She, well, she said that...um...I’m sorry.”
“Oh don’t be mad at Jeffy!” exclaimed Donna, “He was so wonderful! And I needed it so bad! I’ve been so horny lately and my fingers just haven’t been enough. Don’t be mad at him. I made him do it. I made him do it again and again and again and it was so great! God, Susan, you should try him!”
Susan shook her head and turned back to Jeff.
“Get your pants on and get out.” she said coldly.
“Yes ma’am” said Jeff, eyes down cast. “Sorry. Sorry Mrs. Travers. I...Goodbye.”
Then he was gone, leaving the two women alone. Donna pouted. She was getting horny again already.
“Donna,” said Susan, gentle but firm, “We really can’t afford a scandal right now. The reason your doing so well is that so many Republicans are disgusted with Wilson’s philandering. If the press finds out that you’re screwing a man half your age, they’ll go back to Wilson. I know it’s not fair, but the public is always more willing to forgive men for sexual pecadillos than women.”
“I know that, Susan!” defended the candidate, “God, do you think I’m stupid? That’s why I chose Jeff. I knew that he could be discrete. And I just had to do something. I’m so horny I could die!”
Susan sighed again, feeling very, very tired.
“Well, let’s get you to the doctor and hopefully he can help you,” she said. “Let’s see, what can you wear?”
They took Susan’s car and went to the small private clinic where Donna’s primary care physician, Dr. Stewart Wang, had his practice. Donna had tied her hair back and wore a large winter coat over a bulky sweatshirt that had belonged to her husband. The bright Autumn morning was not particularly cold, but Susan had insisted.
Susan waited in the lobby and the nurse lead Donna back to the examining room. The nurse had recently started at the clinic and apparently didn’t follow politics enough to recognize Donna Travers. She just took her vitals and chatted with her about nothing in particular, then told her that the doctor would be with her shortly. Donna could have sworn that the woman was checking her out, her eyes lingering on Donna’s large breasts. Donna wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
The nurse left and Donna sat on the examination table waiting for Dr. Wang. Dr. Wang. Funny that she after four years with him as her physician, she had just now noticed that his name was synonymous with cock. She giggled at the thought.
She’d never been with an Asian man. She wondered if their cocks were distinctive. A warm glow began to build within her as she contemplated the many possibilities. How yummy it would be to play with Dr. Wang’s wang!
But Susan had said she needed to be discrete. And she was right, of course. A politician had to be careful who she fucked. She could indulge her libido, as most of her male counterparts did, as long as it didn’t get dragged out before the public. Yes, discretion was the key. But god-almighty she was horny.
And a doctor-patient relationship was supposed to be confidential, right? What could be more discrete than that? Yes. the good doctor would be just what she needed. Donna stripped off the sweat shirt , exposing her swollen mammaries and pinched her nipples until they were good and hard. Then she ran her fingers through her hair, leaned back and practiced sultry looks and pouts. The good doctor wouldn’t know what hit him.
Dr. Wang came in reading a clipboard.
“Good morning, Mrs. Travers. It says here that you have some swelling in your br...Holy Shit!”
The physician gawked and Donna chuckled.
“Ah...um...” stammered the young doctor, trying to regain his composure. “Sorry. You didn’t have to take off your top yet. Would you like an examination gown?”
“Oh no, doctor” said his patient. “I’m quite comfortable. And after all, you’re hear to see these, aren’t you?”
Donna hefted her large breasts and presented them to him. She was delighted to see his eyes widen.
“Um, yes. Well. When did this start?”
“Well, I first noticed it yesterday morning,” explained Donna. “My hair and boobies kept growing all day yesterday, but they seemed to have stopped. Susan, my campaign manager, is really worried about it, but I don’t know why. I figure I just developed a little late in life. I look great and I feel marvelous, so why question it?”
The doctor looked incredulous.
“So quickly? And there hasn’t been any pain or discomfort?” inquired the physician.
“Oh no!” Donna denied. “They feel wonderful. And I feel great! I’m just a little...randy. If you know what I’m saying.”
“Hmmm,” said Dr. Wang, trying to be professional despite his initial shock. “That’s very...unusual. It’s a good thing you came, though. It could be the first symptoms of something more serious. I’m going to have to examine you.”
“Of course you will, Dr. Wang,” said Donna, spreading her arms wide, throwing her head back and thrusting out her chest. “Examine away!”
Donna was disappointed to feel the physician’s hands at her throat, having expected that he would go straight for her boobs. They were nice hands, though, and they felt good as they palpated under her jaw line and along her neck. Then his hands were in her armpits, probing and prodding. This wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as Donna had hoped.
“Your glands and lymph nodes don’t seem to be swollen at all,” observed Dr. Wang, perplexed. “Have you had a fever or any other illness recently?”
“Well, I have been feeling awfully warm lately,” Donna confessed. “In fact, I’m feeling very, very warm right now, doctor.”
The look she gave him did nothing to help his composure. He retreated to his clipboard on the table. From the way he shuffled, Donna could tell he was suffering from a stiffy. She smiled.
“The nurse didn’t report a fever,” said Dr. Wang. “And you don’t feel hot. But maybe we should take your temperature again.”
“Dr. Wang,” chided Donna, “I’m not here because of a fever, I’m here because my boobies got bigger all of a sudden. Aren’t you going to take a look at them?”
“Yes, well...Yes, I suppose that is necessary,” said the doctor.
He placed his hands on her enlarged breasts and she let out a sigh of contentment. At last. His nibble fingers probed the firm tissue. His palm brushed against her left nipple and Donna let out a low moan and bit her lower lip.
“I’m sorry,” apologized the doctor, “Is it painful?”
“Oh no, doctor!” replied Donna. “It feels really, really gooood!”
As she said this, she rubbed a knee up his inner thigh until she found the hard mass of his cock. His eyes widened.
“You have great hands, doctor.”
“Mrs. Travers, I really don’t think....” the physician began, taking his hands from her breasts.
“Hey!” protested Donna, grabbing his hands and pushing them firmly against her mammaries, “You’re not done with my examination. You have to feel me. You have to rub me all over.”
She rubbed his hands against her engorged nipples and half-reluctant, his hands began to massage her of their own accord. She leaned into them and reached down with one hand to stroke his now completely engorged cock through his dark slacks. The physician swallowed hard.
“Mrs. Travers, this...this really isn’t appropriate,” he managed.
“Oh, I’m not going to tell anyone, Dr. Wang,” she said giving his member a squeeze, “A doctor-patient relationship is confidential. No one has to know. It’ll be our dirty little secret.”
At this, she leaned in and licked his neck, then attached her mouth to it and sucked hard.
“Mrs. Travers!” protested the doctor, pushing her back.
“Oh, please,” she said, nonplused and continuing her advance, “Call me Donna! And I’ll call you Stewart. Or would you rather I call you Dr. Wang? I could pretend to be one of your hot little nurses and you could do me right here on the table. Doesn’t that sound just yummy?”
She was on her feet now, pressing herself against the retreating physician. She reached behind and grabbed his firm buttocks and pulled their groins together. She ground herself against him, feeling every inch of his cock through the clothing as she rubbed her bare breasts against his shirt.
“Mrs. Travers...” he began.
“Donna,” she reminded.
“Donna,” he conceded, “I...I think that what ever is wrong with you is affecting your judgment. And your libido.”
“Lucky me,” said Donna “But if it’s effecting my libido, don’t you think you should examine my pussy?”
She grabbed the doctor’s wrist and tried to force his hand down the front of her pants. He resisted though. Donna just couldn’t understand why he didn’t just take her. She knew that he wanted her.
At last he pushed her away and in a flash had a stool between them.
“Mrs. Travers, you are clearly very ill” shouted the distraught physician. “I’m going to give you a sedative that should calm your...your urges. And I’m going to order some blood tests. The nurse will be in shortly to draw blood. Until we have the results, you need to take the sedative and get some rest.”
“The only thing I need is that hard rod between your legs,” objected Donna, beside herself with unsated lust and angry at the physician’s lack of cooperation.
“I...I’m sorry” said the doctor. “I...I just can’t. It wouldn’t be right.”
And then he was gone, leaving Donna alone and frustrated and feeling very sorry for herself.
The nurse came back and drew blood. She, at least, appreciated Donna’s breasts. But Donna was so frustrated by Dr. Wang’s rejection and so unaccustomed to thinking of women as a sexual option that she didn’t do anything about it.
When she came back to the lobby, Dr. Wang was talking to Susan, but he hurriedly left as soon as he saw her. Susan was disappointed that they still didn’t know what was happening but was glad of the prescription and order of bed rest. Donna just sulked and headed for the car. Susan followed.
They stepped out of the clinic and were immediately swarmed by a horde of reporters, many more than usually covered her campaign. Susan looked panicked—Donna had forgotten her coat!
The reporter with the bushy moustache reached Donna first and his big microphone was right in her face, soon joined by a dozen others. Donna was a little upset by the mob, but not nearly as much as Susan. After all, reasoned Donna, what did she have to be ashamed of? Her body was beautiful. Why should she try to hide it? Seeing all the microphones pushing towards her, the ‘WhatsNew.com’ one predominant by its size, she found herself wondering if the size of a man’s microphone was proportional to the size of his dick. God she was horny.
They were all shouting out questions, even Mr. Big Mic. It was hard to tell what they were saying with all the shouting. She looked out across the sea of reporters and cameramen. It felt dream-like. She felt dizzy.
Susan was shouting now and some of the microphones turned toward her. But not the big one.
“I get the big one,” Donna thought and she giggled.
“Mrs. Travers is not feeling well,” Susan was saying. “Please, just let us go. We’ll have a press conference tomorrow.”
“I feel fine, thank you” said Donna in a dreamy voice.
“What’s wrong with her?” shouted a reporter. They were finally calming down enough to ask one question at a time.
“We won’t know that until tomorrow,” said Susan. “They have to run tests. We’ll tell you then.”
“Mrs. Travers, is it true that you recently had breast augmentation surgery?”
It was Mr. Big Mic. Susan loudly denied it, but attention was back on Donna. All those microphones. All those long, hard microphones.
“No, I didn’t have a boob job.” denied Donna. “They just kinda grew. All of a sudden. My boobies got really big. They’re nice.”
Everyone was looking at her boobs. It felt good. They were taking pictures of them. She knew that everyone wanted to touch them. God it was warm. Why did she have to wear this damned sweatshirt? She pulled at the bottom It tightened across her chest. Cameras flashed. So dizzy.
The reporters continued to shout out questions. Did she change her appearance to attract male voters? Did she think she could maintain the respect of of the other congress persons? Some one in the back asked if she was wearing a bra. Donna tried to answer questions, but she felt so confused and oh so very warm. Forming a coherent sentence was nearly impossible. Susan just kept shouting to leave them alone and let them go.
The clinic security, consisting of three unarmed men, tried to help the two women but found it very difficult to do anything about the mob. Eventually, they pushed their way to Donna and Susan and then, surrounding them, pushed their way slowly to Susan’s car. Susan drove away furiously, nearly hitting a camera man in the process.
“Fuck!” said Susan as she drove. “Fuck! fuck! fuck! fuck! fuck! fuck! fuck! fuck! fuck! fuck!”
Donna thought that sounded like a great idea. She dreamily slipped a hand down the front of her pants.
When they got to Donna’s home, Susan was even more angry, mostly because the woman she had tied her career to refused to see just how much trouble they were in. Susan told her to go and take the sedative the doctor had given her while she made some phone calls. She had fires to put out and Donna would be more helpful unconscious.
Donna gladly agreed; She was feeling very sleepy. She went to her room and stripped off the hot sweatshirt. Her breasts bounced happily in their freedom. They were very pretty boobs. Why did Susan want her to hide them?
Pants and panties followed the sweatshirt and the Democratic candidate for Senate in Massachusetts flopped naked onto her nice soft bed. She was asleep before she remembered that she was supposed to take a sedative.
She dreamed. She was an actress on the set of a movie. The reporter with the bushy moustache was the director. The set consisted of a bunch of gym equipment and for a moment Donna thought it was an exercise video, but then she saw that she was naked except for a sweatband, a pair of leg warmers and gym shoes. Sweat glistened of her massive breasts and she realized it was a porno.
The director was explaining that in this scene, Susan was going to play her personal trainer. Then Susan was there, and the campaign manager’s costume was more elaborate. The tiny brunette wore an outfit that was all black leather straps and shiny stainless steel rings. Her legs were clad in high heeled black leather boots that reached up to mid thigh. In her hand was a riding crop. At her crotch was a big black strap-on dildo.
Her campaign manager smiled. “Are you ready for the show?” she asked.
Then the director yelled ‘Action!’ and Susan’s face went cold.
“On your knees, bitch!” she yelled and Susan complied, terrified. “You want a work out, do you? Well I’ll work you harder than any man ever could.”
She grabbed a fist full of Donna’s long blonde hair and pulled roughly so that she went down on her hands, her massive breasts brushing the floor.
“You’re bad, Donna!” Susan scolded, swatting her naked ass. “You’re a nasty little slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes” squeaked out Donna.
“What?” demanded Susan, “I can’t hear you!”
“I’m a slut!” shouted Donna. “I’m a skanky slut!”
It felt so good to admit it.
“And what do sluts do, slut?” asked her trainer.
“They fuck!” responded Donna. It was all so clear.
“So what do you want to do, slut?”
“I wanna fuck!” shouted Donna. “Fuck me, mistress, fuck me!”
And then Susan was behind her and the big black dildo was pounding into her sopping wet pussy. Susan pulled her hair, yanking her head back and her big tits swung forward. Donna came and came like never before, screaming out for more.
She collapsed on the floor, breathing hard. Suddenly, the air was filled with applause. She looked up to see that they were really on the stage of a huge auditorium and thousands of people were watching her. They had all seen her fuck. They had all heard her come. And they liked it—they really liked it. She felt so proud of herself.
She wanted to give the audience more of what they wanted. She rolled over on to her back.
“Fuck me more, Mistress!” she demanded of Susan. “Fuck me hard!”
And then Susan was all over her again, and again she was coming.
And the crowd was cheering.
She awoke awash in a sea of soft blondness. She tried to sit up, lost her balance and felt her breasts pull her over onto her side. She brushed the hair out of her face and saw that her tits had grown to at least twice the size they had been this morning and her hair now reached her waist.
“Pretty...” she breathed in hushed reverence.
She made a more successful attempt at sitting, then parted her hair with her hands and pulled the heavy locks back over her shoulders to keep them out of her face. The soft hair being drawn across her huge jugs felt heavenly and she cooed with pleasure, then started to rub them. They were real, they were firm, they were beautiful, and they were hers. She cautiously made it to her feet, the unaccustomed momentum of her tits pulling her this way and that, wobbling and knocking into each other. Donna giggled.
She carefully made her way to her mirror and gurgled with delight at the grinning naked woman with irrationally large titties that looked back at her.
“I’m so pretty!” she said, amazed, squeezing her breasts, lifting them and dropping them, letting them bounce and jiggle while she giggled.
“I’m so sexy!” she cried with growing excitement. She couldn’t wait to show off her new rack. She knew that any one who saw her would want to fuck her. And she so wanted to fuck!
“I’m so slutty!” she exclaimed with sudden delighted realization.
“A slut,” she thought, remembering her dream. “That’s what I am. That’s what I want to be. I love to fuck, and why should I be ashamed of that? If that’s what I like, then that’s what I should do!”
She saw that it was just past five. She knew what she needed and just what she had to do. None of her clothes would fit her now and they weren’t sexy enough anyway. She needed to buy new clothes. Then she needed to go show off her new body and find someone to screw. Hell, she needed to find a lot of people to screw.
She giggled, then wiggled into her french-cut panties and her tightest pair of jeans. Then she grabbed an over-sized white T-shirt which she sometimes used as sleepwear and stretched it over her massive rack. Taking a pair of scissors, she cut the bottom of the shirt away so that it showed off her tummy. She pulled a long blonde strand and sucked on it as she admired herself in the mirror once more, then grabbed her purse and a pair of heels and headed out to find some action.
As she neared the kitchen, she could hear Susan on the phone sounding tired, angry, and frustrated. Donna thought to herself that what Susan really needed was a good fuck, but she didn’t think the woman would come with her. She’d probably try to stop her from showing off her knockers. She was such a prude. Donna decided to sneak past, shoes in hand. Then she was out the door, in her car, and on her way to party. She felt great!
Donna zipped through the streets of Boston feeling more alive than she ever had. She knew that none of the places that she usually shopped would have any of the things she knew she needed. They wouldn’t even have anything that would fit her new body. But she knew where she could go. Out near the warehouse district near the harbor was a boutique where all the prostitutes and strippers shopped. Donna wanted to look as sexy as they did.
She was quite familiar with this area of town, since when her husband was mayor she had led a campaign to have the business licenses of all the strip clubs and smut shops there revoked. She couldn’t for the life of her remember why. She realized now that she hadn’t fucked nearly enough in her life time and this was probably the best part of town to catch up.
She squealed with delight when she got to ‘Aphroditie’s Nightie’ and saw all the wonderful sexy clothes. The sales girls were really impressed with her new rack—why couldn’t Susan take that attitude? They helped her new measurements and Donna giggled and jumped up and down when they told her she would wear an E cup.
She tried on a dozen of sexy outfits that really showed off her titties and decided to buy most of them. The hardest decision was what to wear tonight. But then she found a tiny dress that was perfect. It was sleeveless, stretchy, shiny, and purple with a big heart-shaped cut-out to show off her cleavage. It fit her like it had been painted on and the hem just brushed the top of her thighs, barely concealing her G-string-clad pussy. She added a matching pair of 5 inch heals and some big, dangly earrings. The sales girls told her that she in that outfit she could give a hard on to any man alive. Donna was delighted. That was exactly what she wanted.
And so, weighted down with all her new ‘fuck me’ clothes, she headed out into the streets of Boston, bound and determined to get herself thoroughly screwed. The combination of the many bags, the new center of balance caused by her huge tits, and the unaccustomed high heels made walking very complicated, taking all her concentration as she wiggled and jiggled. Thus, she almost lost her balance when someone behind her on the sidewalk spoke to her.
“Hello Mrs. Travers! Can I help you with those?”
She turned, wobbled, then was steadied by a large masculine hand on her shoulder. She smiled in recognition when she saw the bushy moustache.
“Hey, I know you! You’re the one with the big cock...<giggle>...I mean microphone.”
“Yes, but I don’t think I’ve introduced myself,” said the reporter, taking several bags from her. “I’m Tom—Tom Tragent.”
“Well, pleased to meet you, Tom!” she said with a quick little curtsy that set her rack to jiggling again.
“I must say, Mrs. Travers, you have quite an impressive set of jugs,” complimented Tom. “I’m glad to see you’re showing them off more. That dress looks deliciously slutty on you.”
The candidate tittered and beamed with pride.
“Oh please, Tom,” she said “Call me Donna. Let’s be friends.”
“Why thank you, Donna,” he replied, “You know, I’ve been following your career for a while now, and I have some ideas about how to help your campaign. There’s a delightful little bar over there. Would you like to discuss it over drinks?”
He really liked her. She just knew it. And he must have a big hard cock just like his microphone. Donna didn’t want another Dr. Wang fiasco, but she was sure that Tom would be more willing. Here was a man that would treat her like the slut that she was.
“Why Tom, that’s so sweet of you!” exclaimed Donna. “But wouldn’t you rather go some place a little more private where we could like, get to know each other, and, well, fuck?”
The reporter chuckled.
“My, my...A little anxious, aren’t you Donna?” he observed. “But all right, we’ll do it in reverse order. But afterwards I insist on buying you a drink. A gentleman should always be willing to get a lady drunk if he’s going to plow her.”
Donna giggled, giddy with the realization that she was finally going to get some action.
“But I’m not a lady,” she declared. “I’m a slut!”
“Well then, my dear slut, let’s get it on! My van is right over there.”
They put her new clothing in the trunk of her car and headed over to the big black van with the satellite dish on top.
The back of the van was windowless and lit only by the dusky light coming from the front dozens of LEDs on the very complicated-looking electronic equipment that lined the sides. It was going to be a tight pinch—none of the acrobatics she had had this morning with Jeff—but at least she was going to get laid.
“So what’s all this do?” she asked. She didn’t rightly care, but she knew how men liked to show off their stuff. She figured she had better stroke his ego a bit—she didn’t want another Dr. Wang fiasco.
“Oh, just some equipment that I built to maximize the power and efficiency of my EM transmissions,” he said proudly. “I really am a genius, if I do say so myself! Uh...for a humble reporter, that is.”
“Wow!” said Donna, trying to look impressed. “That’s really impressive!”
“Well, I do aim to impress you, Donna,” he said, dropping trou in one fluid motion.
“Oh WOW!” she exclaimed, this time genuinely impressed. The microphone to penis correlation had just been confirmed. Donna couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sight.
She fell to her knees before the marvelous cock. It was half erect already and as she grasped it firmly it leapt in her hands. She stroked the warm, velvety shaft as she felt it get harder and watched it extend out to it’s full glory.
She licked her lips, opened wide, and engulfed it. It tasted marvelous and felt delightful in her mouth. She busily licked and slobbered all over it. She wanted it good and wet so that she could slide the monstrous thing into her tight pussy.
“My, my, but you are one cock-hungry slut, aren’t you Donna?” observed Tom, stroking her head.
“MmHmm!” affirmed Donna through cock-filled lips. Finally, a man who appreciated her for what she was!
She squeezed the base of the cock and decided it was firm enough for her. She took it out of her mouth and felt that it was well lubricated, dripping with drool.
“Lay down!” she demanded. Her need was urgent.
“So the lady likes it on top,” chuckled the reporter, complying.
“Oh yes!” declared Donna, hiking up her dress and pulling down her panties, then advancing on the prone man. It took some awkward maneuvering, but at last Donna was in a position where she could impale herself on the massive member. She screamed in triumph as it entered her.
She rode him long and hard, using her pussy in ways she never knew she could. She would occasionally pull off him and run her clit up and down the underside of his shaft, using her labia to kiss it. Then she would pound down on him again as his powerful hips thrust the hot rod up into her again and she squoze it with all her might.
She was on fire! Her ears were ringing! And ringing!
Damn, that was annoying.
“Your...your cell phone,” said Tom between grunts and gasps.
“Oh fuck!” said Donna as her hips continued to gyrate. “It’s probably Susan.”
“Your campaign manager?” queried Tom as he squeezed her tits.
“Yeah, she’s probably pissed because I bailed on her. But the damned prude doesn’t want to let me screw anyone! She’s just jealous ‘cause she hasn’t gotten laid since college. Mmm! That’s nice right there.”
“Well <grunt> why don’t you let her know what you’re doing?” suggested Tom.
“Oh god <gasp> she’d freak!”
“<GROAN>...Go on. It’ll be funny!”
“O.K.” she said with a giggle and a squeeze of her pussy.
She leaned back to grab her purse, Tom holding firmly to her waste to keep her from toppling, then rocked forward again, hitting her partner in the face with her large tits.
“Hello,” she said into the phone, then giggled as Tom started licking her cleavage through the heart-shaped cutout in her dress.
“Donna! Where the hell are you?” Susan’s voice demanded.
“Mmmmmm” said Donna in response to a deft thrust to her G-spot. “I’m a little busy right now, Susan. Can I call you back after I come?”
“Oh god!” exclaimed the frantic campaign manager. “What are you doing!”
Donna moaned as Tom grabbed her boobs and pushed her upright, squeezing her nipples.
“Oh yes!” she exclaimed, then “Sorry, Suzy-Q. I’m doing Tom, if you must know.”
“Tom?” she demanded, “Who’s Tom?”
“Oh, you know <moan> the reporter with the really <grunt> big <gasp> cock!”
“Shit!” exploded Susan “You’re fucking a god-damned reporter? Are you crazy?”
“Mmmmm,” said Donna. “Not crazy...Horny...Very, very horny.”
“Look, Donna,” pleaded her campaign manager, “This is very important. I need you to tell me where you are. I’ll come get you. I’ve got your medicine.”
“Don’t want medicine,” said Donna. “Wanna come!”
“Gotta go, Susan. Gotta come. Oh god! Oh god! YES! YES! YES! Aieeeeeeeeee!”
She collapsed on Tom and reveled in the feel of his hot jizm shooting up inside of her, then reached over to the squawking phone she’d dropped and turned it off.
Night had fallen when they emerged from the van. A group of young men applauded them, having discerned Donna and Tom’s activity from the movements of the vehicle and the noises they made. Donna smiled broadly at them and bowed theatrically. She was so happy that they knew she put out. She hoped that they would want to fuck her too. She started to approach them, but them Tom took her arm.
“Come now, Donna, I’m not through with you yet” he chided. “I still owe you that drink.”
Donna didn’t want a drink nearly as much as she wanted another good screw, but there was something compelling about Tom that made her want to do what he told her. She remembered her dream earlier where Tom was the director. She knew that she should follow his directions. She willingly accompanied him into a little bar called simply ‘The Dive’, although she crossed her fingers hoping that the boys would still be there once she came out.
All regret faded when she entered the bar. There were all kinds of men in there and they stared her up and down with hunger in their eyes. Donna giggled and blushed with renewed arousal. She loved being the center of attention. That must be why she’d gone into politics.
Tom ushered her over to a table near the wall. She found herself wondering what that big bushy moustache would feel like tickling her pussy, and made a mental note to find out.
A waitress came up to them and asked what they’d like.
“Do you like screwdrivers?” Tom asked.
“Oh God yes!” said Donna, her pussy clenching at the word ‘screw’.
“Could we get a pitcher then?” he asked the waitress.
“Of screwdrivers?” asked the waitress.
“Yes, I think that will do nicely, at least for starters. And for myself, I’ll have a Shiner Bock.”
The waitress looked at Donna questioningly and the candidate smiled broadly and winked at her flirtatiously. The girl just shook her head and went to get their order and Donna watched her, noticing what a cute ass she had and wondering if there was anyway she could get a chance to bite it.
She brought their order, and Donna took a big gulp.
“Wow, this is good!” exclaimed Donna. “It’s been a while, but I don’t remember vodka tasting this yummy.”
“Well, I’ve found that a persons tastes can change as they...develop.” said Tom, sipping his beer, “And vodka is a fine thing for a slutty woman like yourself to develop a taste for.”
“Really?” asked Donna, fascinated. Having fully embraced her sluthood, she wanted to learn everything about it. Donna Travers was a woman that excelled at everything she set out to do.
“Yes,” affirmed Tom. “You see, Donna, you’re a very beautiful woman, and most men are intimidated by someone as sexy as yourself.”
Donna beamed with pride.
“Now you and I both know that you’d gladly do every man and woman in this bar,” Tom continued. “But most of them don’t have enough self-confidence to believe that you’d give them a chance. Even if you spell it out for them, some of them aren’t going to believe you. But if you’re good and sloshed, they’ll think they’re getting away with something and be more willing to try.”
“I never would have thought of it that way,” confessed Donna. That must have been what went wrong this morning at the doctor’s office.
“Trust me, Donna, you get drunk enough and you’ll have every guy in this bar hitting on you.”
Donna drained her glass and slammed it down.
“Then pour me another one!” she cried.
He obliged, then continued explaining the way of the world to her.
“Now everyone knows that the same qualities that get you laid can get you elected. That is, if you can get someone to want to fuck you, they’ll also want to vote for you. It’s been proved in countless high school elections. And in all honesty, that’s what got Jack Kennedy elected. Politicians are really just whores that don’t put out after they’ve been paid.”
“I guess that makes sense” said Donna between swallows.
“But you’re not like that, are you Donna,” said Tom. “You want to give the people what they want. You want to put out.”
“MmHmm!” Donna agreed, finishing her second screwdriver. Tom was so smart. Why hadn’t Susan explained this to her.
“That’s right, Donna!” exclaimed Tom, refilling her glass. “I knew that I was right about you—you want to be the people’s slut! The sort of senator that will do absolutely anything to get her constituents off. The kind of senator that would make our founding fathers proud!”
Donna smiled broadly. She hadn’t realized just how patriotic being a slut was!
“That’s why I was so worried when I saw that you were trying to hide your new boobies from the world. After all, your hot, sexy body is your greatest political asset. And the people have a right to it. They need to see it and know that you will use every part of it in their service!”
“You’re right!” she exclaimed enthusiastically. “I never should have hid my titties! What was Susan thinking?”
“Well, she probably means well,” confessed Tom “She’s probably just afraid that all of the silly, frigid, prudish people might be jealous if they saw what a hot piece of ass you were. But really, if they don’t want to fuck you, why would you want them to vote for you? Wouldn’t you rather have supporters who love you for the slut that you are?”
“Really, Donna, why would you want to have the vote of the self-righteous citizens of this state—people that wouldn’t fuck you even if you asked them to. Those sorts of people are already well represented by the todays politicians. But think of all the under represented people out there: the hookers, the strippers, the pornographers, and all the people that support and depend on those vital industries. Who speaks for them? You already have the support of the so-called upstanding citizens of the state, but what about the perverts? What about the scum? Aren’t they just as an important part of our democracy?”
It all made so much sense! The confusion of yesterday and this morning was gone. She knew that without a doubt, her greatest goal in life was to be the best slut she could be and she wanted the people of Massachusetts and the whole world to know what a competent slut she was. The alcoholic buzz mixed the thrill of having found her true purpose in life and Donna felt better than she ever had. She drained her glass and slammed it down.
“You’re right!” she exclaimed. “You’re apspolutely right! It’s what the people want! They want a bimbo! They want a slut!”
“They want a senator that swallows!” said Tom, eliciting a giggle from Donna, who then raised her refilled glass in salute.
“And I’m just that kind of slut!” she proclaimed and poured the drink down her open throat.
“Soooo....” asked Donna hopefully. “Wanna go fuck me again?”
“I do, Donna, I do,” Tom enthused. “And I will. But not just now. You see, you already have my vote. But there are so many potential voters right here in this bar. The may know from your dress that you’re a slut, but they don’t know that you want to be their slut. There’s less than three weeks left to go until the election—you need to start getting the word out now! So here’s what I’d do if I were you. Stand up on the bench and tell everyone who you are and that you’re running for Senate. Then let them know that you’re trading kisses for votes. Give them all a taste of what you’re offering in exchange for your office. I guarantee, you can have the vote of every man in here.”
“You’re right!” said Donna, “You’re absolutely right! I’ll do it!”
“Great!” said Tom. “It’s exactly the sort of boost your campaign needs. And just to show you that I’m not acting out of self interest, I’ll go call the other reporters so that everyone can see that you’re serious about being a slut!”
“Oh Tom, that’s so sweet of you” said Donna.
Donna drained her fourth screwdriver in a quarter of an hour, then climbed up on her seat with Tom’s help. He then left her to go retrieve her cell phone and wished her luck.
The sight of the blonde with the huge rack in the tight purple dress standing on the bench quickly gained the crowd’s attention as she ran her hands up and down her body, swaying to the music on the juke box.
“Hi everybody!” she shouted out when she was confident that everyone was watching her. “I’m Donna—Donna Travers! And I’m running for the US Senate on the democratic ticket.”
This elicited quite a stir among the bar patrons, including quite a few giggles and several arguments as to the actual identity of the slut on the table.
“I want to be your senator because your needs are important to me!” Donna continued. “And let me tell you, I’m the only one running who’s slutty enough to give each and every one of you exactly what you need! If elected, I promise that I will spend night and day, working hard on my back, on my knees, or up against the wall to make sure that everyone of my constituents gets off.”
Donna could see the crowd’s interest grow. She was back to form. She would work this crowd like she’d done so many before, but this time it would be better. This time it would help get her laid.
“My opponent, the ‘honorable’ Mr. Wilson claims to represent all of you, and yet he only fucks the occasional campaign worker or intern. I ask you, what good does that do you? Does Wilson expect you to get off vicariously?”
“My fellow Bostonians, I am a new breed of politician. Yes, I like to fuck as much as Wilson—I’m a big old slut. But I’m the only candidate who cares about your orgasm. Hell, half the girls that Wilson fucks are from Washington, and of the local girls he has screwed, over 2/3rds of them didn’t even get off! This is unacceptable! You deserve more! You deserve a senator that will suck you off! You deserve a senator that will screw your brains out, not screw you over!”
The crowd was frenzied, not knowing whether to cheer or laugh. All eyes were on Donna. She knew that they all wanted to fuck her. God she was horny.
“You there!” she said to a pimply faced kid that couldn’t be her legally. “Step forward. What’s your name?”
“Uh...Toby” he managed.
“Well, Toby, has Wilson ever done anything to get you off?”
The boy blushed furiously and shook his head no.
“And I don’t think he could if he tried, could he?”
Toby nodded, then shook his head, then bit his lip in confusion.
“Well I bet I could,” stated Donna, hopping down, tits bouncing joyfully.
She grabbed the boy and pressed herself against him, thrusting her tongue in his mouth as a hand snaked down to grab hold of his delightfully engorged cock. At first, Toby just stood there frozen like a deer in headlights, but soon his brain relinquished all control to his genitals and he melted into her. It wasn’t long before she felt the young man’s cock pulsing in her hand and a sticky moisture told her that Toby was someone who might turn in his ballot early.
“Now Toby” she said, looking straight into his dazed, embarrassed face, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “I want you to know that that was just a taste. As your senator, I’ll keep your needs in mind. So, are you going to vote for me?”
Toby nodded furiously.
“Yes Ma’am!” he squeaked.
“And how about the rest of you?” asked Donna, turning back to the crowd as Toby scurried off to find a drier pair of pants. “I’m not going to ask you to vote for me without showing you just what you’re getting. I’m trading kisses for votes to show you that the only special interests I’ll cater to are the ones between your legs!”
After Toby, a group of friends dared each other to take Donna up on her offer and the candidate set out to earn their votes with more aplomb than a lap dancer trying to earn a tip. Soon after, everyone seemed to decide they wanted a piece of her and Donna was delighted by the way they fought for the chance to trade their votes for her sexual favors.
Tom had to struggle to get back to her. Once he was there, he handed her another drink. She had been so busy with the boys that she had forgotten that she was supposed to get smashed as well. Tom insisted that she take a drink between each potential voter and the world had a fuzzy glow to it by the time the first news crew arrived.
Soon it was a madhouse, with five camera crews and countless photographers flashing. Donna was delighted that the press was taking such an interest in her new campaign tactic, but they kept trying to interrupt and ask her questions. Couldn’t they see she was working here?
The worst part was that they were scaring away potential voters who apparently didn’t want to go on record as supporting her. She knew that they all loved her, but some were shy. It was a sad and sorry society that stigmatized someone for enjoying the attention of a sexy slut like herself. As senator, she would take steps to change that and she told the press as much.
One reporter kept getting in her face, even when she was in the middle of grinding her ass into some voter’s groin. He was as pushy as Tom had been, although his microphone wasn’t nearly as big. Enough was enough.
“Look, shweetie, d’you wanna waste time asking questions, or do you wanna fuck me?”
That shut him up. He stammered at a response as Donna grabbed his neck tie and licked him slowly from collar to eyebrow. Then she was on her knees and in a flash had the man’s pants down and his cock in her mouth. The reporter looked around, terribly embarrassed, yet unable to bring himself to stop her. Soon he stopped caring about anything but the soft lips rapped around his shaft and the wet tongue caressing it. He dropped his mic, grabbed her head, and came down her throat. She swallowed enthusiastically.
Now the cost of a vote had gone up. Now everyone wanted a blowjob. Once the press had arrived, only the boldest and horniest of patrons had remained, although these had called friends that continued to arrive. They continued to demand more and more outrageous proof of her sincerity, but Donna was glad to give it to them. She was a slut of the people and for the people.
Thankfully, the press had quieted down and now just watched in shocked amazement as Donna kicked off what she intended to be the most sexually gratifying campaign in US history.
By midnight, most of the reporters had gone, having already done the 11 o’clock broadcast or rushing off to make the morning edition of the paper. Only the photographers from the trashier tabloids officially remained, although Donna was delighted to see that several of the crews that had left came back, one by one, hoping to get a piece of her for themselves. The drunken blonde was happy to oblige.
The news crew from the local FOX affiliate had been the last TV crew to leave, but suddenly they were back, following a short dark-haired woman with a look of insane rage on her face. Donna looked up from the voter’s crotch that she was stroking and saw that the woman looked like a blurry version of Susan. Had her campaign manager decided to join the party?
“What the fuck are you doing!” screamed Susan as she pushed forward, the crowd of horny men melting before her fury.
“Hi Susan!” cried Donna with a big drunken smile. “How did you know I was here?”
“The whole fucking state knows you’re here, you stupid slut! You’re on every fucking channel!”
“Hey!” objected Donna “Jus ‘cus I’m a slut doesn mean I’m stupid!”
“Aaaaaaarrrgh!” screamed Susan, grabbing her employer by the shoulders.
“Look” she spat, “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but I don’t care anymore! I’m through with you, got it! I quit! I don’t ever want to see your stupid slut face again!”
Donna knew that Susan was angry with her, although she didn’t know why. She had been a good friend for a long time and she didn’t want her to leave her. Besides, she was really cute. Donna did the only thing she could think of to assuage her friend’s anger. She took her in a fierce embrace and shoved her tongue in her mouth, pressing her body against the woman and letting her know with every part of herself how much she meant to her.
Susan froze. Then she started to respond. Then she froze again. Then she pushed away. She stared at Donna in confused horror.
“Don’t be mad,” said Donna. “If you stay, I’ll lick you’re pussy.”
Susan’s jaw dropped, then she turned and ran, crying. Tom raised his beer in salute as she left.
Donna felt sad to see her friend go. Why couldn’t she just accept her for the slut she was?
The crowd was milling about, not sure if the party was over. Donna didn’t know what to do either. But then Tom brought her another drink and told her not to feel bad. He promised that tomorrow he’d introduce her to his friend DeeDee, whom he was sure would be glad to be her campaign manager. And there were still plenty of people here that wanted to fuck her. She should be happy.
Tom was right. He was so smart and so helpful. She felt so lucky that he had taken an interest in her career.
She continued to trade sexual favors for votes and was soon in high spirits again. At one point she had to go to the ladies room and hurl, she was so full of vodka and jizm, but she came back with renewed vigor. Most of the remaining ‘voters’ were too drunk to mind.
At last some one who was probably Tom, though she really wasn’t sure, was leading her out into the street. His hand was on her ass. She liked that.
She staggered into the passenger’s seat of some vehicle or other, slumped against the window, and enjoyed the vibrations and bumps as she was driven she knew not where.
The last thing she thought before she passed out was how strange it was that everyone didn’t campaign like this.