Enlightened
Sluttery
by Sterling
Part 4 of 4
It
was a select group of 15 women. They had been chosen for a commitment
to social justice, integrity, and an open mind. Some but not all
actively labeled themselves as feminists.
Cathy and Jill introduced themselves, and after numerous preliminaries
Jill delivered the heart of her message:
"Not
all of you know an interesting fact about Cathy and me. We were both
sexually abused starting around the age of six. To be more specific,
men had sexual intercourse with us regularly, usually daily. For a few
years, we were the shared sexual property of four men."
Women shifted in their chairs, and there was one muffled "Damn!"
"For
some reason, this has given us a perspective on human relations that
others do not share. Lots of people say they have some special insight,
of course, so you want and deserve evidence.
"We have met with
considerable success. Most 13-year-olds do not convene meetings of
prominent activists. We realize that is far from convincing, and expect
you to keep looking for hard evidence that we can do as we say."
It was certainly not time yet to reveal the benefits of two shots of
semen mixed with aspirin.
"Before I can describe our proposal, I have to give you quite a bit of
information about human sexuality as background.
"Evolution
by Natural Selection is the basis of all of biological science. Humans
are also a product of evolution. In many spheres of life, evolution
plays only a weak role in determining behavior. Cultural factors,
choice, and rationality are the most interesting ways to think about
it. Engineering, home construction, literature, cooking -- evolution
has little to say on the matter.
"In sexuality the situation is
quite different. We are of course animals, and despite our great
advances in rationality, when it comes to matters of sexuality, our
animal sides still play a prominent role. What evolution teaches is
that we expect to find organisms optimized for maximizing their
reproductive fitness.
"Men and women have quite different ways
of maximizing their reproductive fitness, and the psychologies of the
two sexes are remarkably similar to what an evolutionary psychologist
would guess.
"Men leave the most descendants when they mate as
widely as possible with women. Each mating might produce a new child
with the man's genes. In evolutionary terms, the fitness advantage that
this conveys is huge.
"In times of social chaos, men turn into
rapists. The practice of men mating as widely as possible occurs in a
raw, unadulterated form. Occupying armies rape the women of the local
population.
"In ordinary times, there are social constraints on
who men can mate with. Men in social groups each take a single woman
(or sometimes two) and agree not to have sex with each other's women.
When observed, these rules let each man know that his wife's children
are also his, so his reproductive fitness is enhanced by helping to
take care of those children.
"But the rules are not always
observed. If a woman reports a rape within an intact social group, the
man risks injury or death. But if a woman offers herself for sex freely
and secretly, it is always in the man's interest to mate. The cost of
providing a few drops of semen is tiny, while the potential reward of
fathering a child is huge.
"All of the competition that men
engage in is fundamentally for the purpose of greater access to women
and fathering more children. Some examples: In some cultures men of
status take second or third wives. In chaotic times, the dominant men
do most of the raping. The men of so-called primitive cultures fight,
and often the winners steal the losers' women.
"Women's behavior
to some extent is influenced by the factors that define male
reproductive success. To take an extreme case, consider a man who rapes
or philanders regularly. To the extent those qualities are inherited,
it is to a woman's advantage to choose him over a more laid back man as
her mate, so her sons will benefit from the reproductive advantage of
raping or philandering.
"Women, on the other hand, have
different incentives. While of course women need to mate in order to
bear children, they do not need to mate very much -- a single load of
sperm up the cunt at the right time will do the job."
Some of the women exchanged glances, not expecting such crude sexual
talk from a girl so young.
"Above all, women want a man who believes her children are his and will
help provide for them.
"This
is the main reason that women are so horrified by rape. It has little
to do with explanations typically offered by feminists. It is not a
matter of men's unjust exercise of power over her, or some physical
violation of bodily integrity. Ultimately, the horror arises because if
she gets pregnant at a time when she is unmarried or her husband knows
he would not be the father, her child will lack the resources that a
husband can provide.
"This is also why women have such a
tendency to want sex only when it is linked with love. We so often hear
of the case of a man and woman having sexual relations when future
expectations are unclear. He is likely to break it off and leave
without feeling guilt, pointing out that they never made any promises.
She is likely to feel betrayed, because she is wired to think of his
baby she might be carrying -- even when, the vast majority of the time,
she isn't actually carrying a baby.
"I said that the woman's top
priority is to have a man who believes he is the father of her
children. Note that the man doesn't actually have to BE the father, he
just has to believe he is. This discrepancy provides the opportunity
for the other way women can increase their fitness -- they can engage
in secret matings with men who they judge to have better genes. Not
everyone can have a top-quality genetic specimen of a man to help raise
her children, but it is often possible to get those men to secretly
supply their sperm at the right moment.
"This explains why not all women are saints. It is the root cause of
the willingness to consider having affairs.
"Sometimes
societies have arranged marriages. The society forbids sex before
marriage and makes divorce a step with serious consequences. Husband
and wife are paired, have babies with each other, and all is well.
"When
a society has a more open-ended pattern, it is an extremely stressful
time for a woman. She wants a man who will help her raise her children.
Naturally she wants a man who professes his love and his intention to
stay with her. One way of enticing a man to commit to her is to have
sex with him. It catches his attention and is a hint of the pleasures
that await him if he commits.
"This strategy by women invites a
complementary strategy from men: a man can appear to promise to marry
so the woman will let him mate with her. He can then go off and repeat
the procedure with another woman. If he fathers only an occasional
child this way, it is still a highly successful reproductive strategy.
If the man learns he has actually impregnated the target of his ruse,
then according to the strategy, that is definitely the time for him to
leave -- hanging around further will do him no good. Sound familiar?
"Women
naturally try their best not to be victimized by this strategy. They
scrutinize men very carefully, they share information on unscrupulous
men, and they are incensed if they find a man has fooled them in that
way.
"To reiterate, a woman's primary objective is to make a man believe he
is the father of her children.
"This
makes her less interested in casual sex. It makes various forms of
prostitution or 'sex for favors' unappealing because, despite the
short-term rewards, there is the huge long-term disadvantage of
conceiving a child without a man who will stay to help raise the child.
"Of
course this is not the whole story. Both men and women engage in
behaviors that do not fall in line with this pattern at all. We have
celibate priests, cloistered nuns, and gay men and lesbians. But the
pattern still guides a great deal of human behavior."
"All that is just background. Now to the essence of the matter."
"OUR INBORN TENDENCIES DO NOT DEFINE OUR DESTINY!"
The women whose attention had wandered were instantly refocused on
their 13-year-old speaker.
"We
see this with priests and nuns. Somehow they suppress the very urge to
procreate, for reasons of their own. Those reasons don't concern us,
but they do demonstrate that it is possible to overcome inborn
tendencies.
"What we women can do is to understand our aversion
to promiscuous sex for favors, overcome it, and use that very form of
sexuality to wield true power. That is the heart of our proposal.
"If we as a movement adopt this strategy, some of us will engage in a
great deal of sex with a great many partners.
"And
before I forget, the Gates Polymer couldn't have reached market at a
more auspicious time, do you think?" The Gates Polymer, applied
vaginally, once a month, was 100% effective in preventing STIs -- more
particularly, blocking their sexual transmission -- the "ST" that
occupied the first two slots in the acronym.
"Cathy and I," she
said more softly, "were raised on promiscuous sex against our will. It
is a miserable existence that kills the spirit. But somehow, we were
able to transcend it. Watching those men's faces above us, day after
day, grunting and groaning, insistently pushing their penises into us
-- that set the stage. We saw, over and over, that male tendency to
mate, no matter what. True, these particular men were pedophiles, but
it makes no difference.
"Men will do quite a bit for sex, but
there are limits. Simply offering or withholding sex could be very
useful for our purposes, but it is just the beginning.
"The
quality of the experience women offer can make all the difference. This
is known to women, but as far as Cathy and I can tell, women who do
this at all use only the crudest methods to offer a man a pleasant
sexual experience or an unpleasant one.
"Cathy and I have
developed some powerful techniques. Our ability to teach and
demonstrate the effectiveness of those techniques is vital to our plan.
"It
is also the primary way you should evaluate whether we are on to
something important or are just a couple of young windbags. Look
closely at how effective our techniques are with real men under real
conditions.
"With subtle adjustments to our demeanor, we could
make a sexual experience frustrating and unsatisfying for a man, or
make it totally fantastic. And -- this is vital -- the men could not
put their finger on the difference as anything within our conscious
control. With what appeared only a bad mood, we could spoil a man's
experience as never before. When happy, we could transform it into
something amazing. We were able to use these techniques to improve our
situation dramatically and then to escape it entirely. We have been
perfecting the techniques in the years since our escape. We believe we
can teach these techniques to most women.
"Why were we able to
do this? We are not sure, but we have a couple ideas. Children are in
general more creative than grown-ups. Perhaps pre-pubescent girls can
be more creative when their own sexual urges do not get in the way. In
any case, we developed some techniques that are highly effective.
"Now,
no offense, but we might as well be open about these things. Most of
you are over 50, and the youngest is -- what, 40? No matter how well
you were trained none of you would cast a very strong spell over most
men. Men may be attracted to you, but there is an entirely different
level of attraction to teenagers and women in their early 20s. (For
some men, it is 6-year-olds, as Cathy and I know so well, though
pedophiles are not an important part of our plan).
"So you all
know those idealistic college girls? The ones who go door to door with
PIRG petitions? The ones who might join the Peace Corps? They are the
ones we need. And if Cathy and I are right, they could have an effect
far, far beyond what any PIRG petition could possibly accomplish.
"To
summarize, we are seeking a woman with three key attributes: First, she
needs to be young, pretty, and possessed of a sexy body and sexy
personality. Second, she needs the ability to feel good about engaging
in widely promiscuous sex; if a woman forces herself to do this without
really being OK with it inside, it will not work. Third, she needs the
ability to learn how to provide a man with a terrific sexual experience
when it suits her goals, and to provide him with an unpleasant or
mediocre one when that is called for."
Jill took a deep breath and looked around the room.
"Let me pause here for questions."
"Slut power," someone cracked, and everyone chuckled.
"That's
the basic idea," Jill said. "And I'm not one to get all huffy about the
terms we use, but once we are up and running, none of us will view them
as sluts. They will be professionals due the highest degree of respect.
Like psychiatrists, surgeons, or trained professional spies."
Another
woman spoke. "We've been complaining all these years that men see women
as sex objects. You're suggesting we give in and say, 'OK, we were
wrong, we are sex objects.'"
"I have two thoughts on that.
First, just how far has that strategy gotten us? We alienated a lot of
men -- and women too -- who know that to a large degree men do regard
women as sex objects, and changing that is going against a powerful
innate current in the male psyche. What we should have said was that
men should set aside those feelings and ALSO treat women as important,
valuable people. Second, what if we flow with nature rather than
against it? Instead of trying to convince men, we will manipulate them.
Consider this analogy: A man becomes a bit like the bull charging at
the red cloth while the matador deftly steps aside."
"How does this work in practice? Are you going to seduce the President?"
"That
might be a viable strategy long before you would think. Remember Monica
Lewinsky? But no, we start much smaller than that. Some rich potential
donors or perhaps a state senate campaign.
"In terms of
immediate next steps, Cathy and I need to train some trainers. We need
perhaps 30 young women, who will need a great deal of screening --
young, beautiful, and committed."
"Virgin sacrifices?" someone quipped.
Jill
and Cathy smiled good-naturedly. "The women we seek will almost
certainly not have reached the age of 21 as virgins." Jill added, "We
will also need some men as guinea pigs. There are groups of feminist
men that meet here and there. They are typically earnest and totally
humorless. If they are true to their principles, their lives will
change profoundly. They will be bedding countless gorgeous beauties for
the best sex of their lives. Actually, the girls will be bedding them.
But mostly I'm joking -- I doubt many of those men would be interested,
but we'll be able to pick up plenty of volunteers here and there."
"Are you and Cathy lesbians? Lovers?"
A
hush fell over the room. It seemed like a rather impertinent question.
On the other hand, Jill had just said out loud that women over 40 were
over the hill.
The girls locked eyes, and Jill hesitated. Cathy
spoke for the first time. "Jill and I have a loving bond which will
never break. We sleep together and hug most nights. But we don't mess
with each other's pussies or anything. It's men that make our hearts go
pittypat. And with the right guy -- with a surprising number of guys,
actually," she paused to give a sweet, adorable 12-year-old girl smile,
"It's their cock surging up our cunts and cumming in us that makes us
surge with sexual ecstasy. We both adore getting fucked."
A few jaws dropped open.
"You
see," she continued, "We propose to help women overcome our revulsion
at sex for favors. But we should still celebrate and encourage our love
of sex. We revel in our female natures. 'Oh, baby, harder! Unnh! Unnh!
Unnh! Shoot me full of it! Aaaaahhhhh!'"
It took a few moments for the group to digest such talk from the cute
little 12-year-old.
"So do you despise men? Are they just toys and pawns? Lumps with dicks
who can fuck you to heaven, but not much else?"
Jill
fielded that one. "No, not at all. We can control men through their
sexual urges, but they themselves can be infinitely fascinating and
talented and loving. Even the violent ones fill a role in the human
experience that we couldn't do without.
"We do not want to
replace the oppression of women with the oppression of men. Yet,
consider what it is fundamentally that men want as men. They want the
chance to fuck lots of pussies -- and if our vision becomes reality,
things will get much better for them in that regard!"
That was worth a round of laughs.
Cathy
broke in with a final note, "I'm not sure of everything we will stand
for -- that is part of what we hope you can help us work out. But Jill
shares my intuitive sense that this should be called the Pragmatic
movement."
Some heads nodded, others appeared to weigh the issue.
Sharon
looked uneasy as she entered Jill's office. Her assignment had been to
sleep with two more men the previous night. They had been deliberately
chosen to be fairly insensitive.
"How did it go?"
"OK. Bert was kind of like a robot, went straight for my pussy and came
in thirty seconds. Piece of cake.
"Cal
gave me about a minute of foreplay. Then he took me from the rear. He
probably went on for twenty minutes, with occasional commentary: 'You
sure are pretty. Pretty good lay, too. Haha... Your cunt feels good...
Can you give me a squeeze like a nice pussy? Oooo, nice grip, baby. So
many easy girls around here, and I fuck 'em all!' He came deep. Gave me
a slap on the butt and left without a word."
"And how did you feel about it?"
"Oh,
fine. As a lover he was a total loser, but that's not what matters, of
course. I could feel him acting out his male patterns. He wanted his
fuck, and I was happy to give it to him."
"Would you be willing to have him fuck you again tomorrow?"
"Yes, no problem!" Sharon said cheerily, but a shadow flickered across
her face and she looked down.
Jill noticed. "How did you feel?"
Sharon
sighed. "I was disappointed. There's no reason I should be, though, is
there? I keep trying to get that part right every time, but I blow it
sometimes." She paused, and then continued, "OK, when I'm honest, I was
really angry at him and felt used!"
Jill appreciated the honesty
-- that was a point in her favor -- but it wasn't enough. Sharon had
been at this for three weeks: reading, meditating, discussing her
experiences and feelings with the other girls. They were all trying to
overcome their aversion to casual sex. But Sharon wasn't getting it.
Not deep down, not fast enough.
Jill spoke softly. "You've been doing great, Sharon. I can see you're
trying hard. But I've got to cut you."
Sharon started to protest, but Jill stopped her.
"In
training our trainers, we have to have extremely high standards. The
trainers not only have to get over their aversions, they have to do it
so completely and thoroughly that they can help other girls who are
wavering. You are good, Sharon, and I bet we'll be able to use you
later. It's no shame not to be one of the thirty best at something no
women have ever done before."
Sharon gave a wistful smile. "I'm used to being the best at everything."
Jill smiled. "You don't get an A+ at being a shameless, slutty,
oversexed whore. I bet your parents will disown you..."
Sharon gave a big laugh. Sensing her need, Jill gave her a big hug, and
the girl left -- about as happy as she could be.
"Oh, Sarah! Oh my God, that's so good. Oh, oh, oh!"
The
pudgy, pasty-skinned George was humping away on Sarah, whose legs were
up, heels around behind his back, stroking it lightly.
"Oh, just
like that, George, that's wonderful," Sarah said, gazing at him
adoringly while stroking his cheek with the back of one hand. Her other
hand lay limply on the mattress near her ear, curled elegantly.
It
sure looked like George was having the very best sex of his life. His
lusty male nature was on full display as he worked his cock right up
inside the beautiful girl beneath him. He was holding himself up on his
arms above her, surveying her perfect skin, lovely breasts, beautiful
hair framing her face, a few wisps over one eye. She was panting too,
face slack with pleasure.
"I'm with you, George, I'm on fire,
almost there. Oh, it's so great! God, I'm in heaven! You've got such a
big one! Come deep, honey, give me all your sperm! Oh George!"
The
youth's face scrunched up tighter, his thrusts hammered home deep,
jiggling Sarah's body up on the bed a little with each thrust.
"Oh, oh ..." his moans got higher-pitched.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Sarah said, each with a different tone, the
combination utterly enthralling to the male psyche.
George
seized up with orgasm silently, but continued his frantic thrusts. In
fifteen seconds or so he pulled out and flopped down next to her, a
goofy grin on his face.
Sarah panted for a few more seconds, then turned over to snuggle
against him.
"Mmmm, George, that was wonderful!"
The video cut off there. Jill had been watching with a critical
teacher's eye.
"Very
good, Sarah! Wonderful! Let's go back a few seconds." The video rewound
to the few seconds before George's climax began. "Where did you start
your squeeze?"
As the tape went forward at half speed, Sarah said. "Right.... Here!"
"Perfect, perfect!"
Jill
skipped back in the video again. "Now look at your face," she said more
quietly. The two watched intently as she ran it forward again at full
speed. "What do you see?"
"I ... I didn't see anything."
"Let's try it again, quarter speed."
Just before the squeeze, Sarah said, "Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit!"
"I guess you saw it?"
"Yes, I saw it!"
There right on the tape was a brief expression of contempt on her face,
very brief, but it was there.
"What do you remember thinking?"
"I ... I'm embarrassed," Sarah said.
"It's understandable... You are very good, you know!" Jill said, with a
light touch on her arm. "Go on..."
"I
saw his guy boobs jiggling back and forth, and his face. And I thought
he looked ridiculous, and ugly, and so entirely lost in his desire to
fuck."
"Very good, Sarah."
"Do you think he caught it?"
"I
can see it in his face, actually, though I doubt he knew consciously.
It was still fantastic sex for him, but that moment will dampen it for
him."
"I did come, you know..."
"Oh, I can see it! Good! And that's one of the hardest times to keep
those old, innate patterns in check..."
"Yeah, I know. That keeps happening, doesn't it?"
"Well, now and then. Keep at it! Meditation?"
"I've been slacking, I admit." Sarah got a touch pink. "My attention
wanders short of my two hours, I'm afraid."
"How much shorter?"
Jill could see that Sarah was tempted to lie, but stopped herself.
"Never less than one hour, anyway."
Jill gave her a light symbolic punch in the arm. "Tsk, tsk! Keep at it,
Sarah. You're one of the very best."
Cathy and Jill sat side by side as Jill ran the tape at full speed.
"Ouch!" said Cathy, wincing as the climax passed.
"Sarah
couldn't see it on the tape at half speed when she was showing me when
she squeezed, or the second time at full speed when I told her to look
for a problem. She saw it at quarter-speed."
"Shit!" Cathy muttered.
"They're all wonderful, aren't they?"
"Yes. Fantastic!" Cathy knew Jill's positive spin was genuine but
betrayed concern, and her answer echoed the positive spin.
They
had discussed before how the remaining 28 girls were so talented, how
they worked so hard, and how every one of them was content to get
fucked time after time, even by guys who were downright rude to them.
They had that part down. But that slip Sarah made -- that could be the
difference between a fabulous experience that George would do almost
anything to have again and one that was merely a wonderful lay. How
could Sarah train others to do that if she couldn't see it herself?
After a silence, Cathy spoke, "I don't think they're ever going to get
it, Jill."
Jill drooped in her seat. She had been trying to avoid that conclusion
for days.
"I know. Options?"
"There's really only one, right?"
"But if we reveal the double shot with aspirin, we risk everything."
"Yeah, I know."
"A
little Verset, maybe?" Jill asked. Verset was a popular drug used in
minor surgery, one of its key attractions being that people remained
conscious but couldn't remember what happened to them.
"Killing
one of them would be horrible -- and very bad press..." As an
experiment, they had given Cathy general anesthesia briefly while two
men did her in quick succession and Jill pushed the aspirin up her
pussy as soon as they had gone. She came out of the anesthesia a minute
or two later, but had no calm or insights but did have a splitting
headache for days. They realized they didn't really know what they were
doing with their sperm/aspirin concoctions, and small differences in
procedure could produce alarming side effects.
After a little thought, a smile came to Jill's lips. Cathy listened to
her idea, and they agreed it was the best plan they had.
"You've spoiled me, Jill, you know," said Wilbur, mounted and thrusting
away.
A few weeks back, Jill had arranged for Wilbur the finest sexual
experience a male had ever experienced in human history.
"Sorry, big boy," Jill answered. "I'm still a pretty good lay, aren't
I?"
"Yeah, of course," Wilbur said.
Jill
glanced at the clock on the ceiling now and then. When it was 2:59, she
began a few simple smiles and wiggles, getting Wilbur primed.
He
was a fine man, and his male brain was now engaged in the business of
fertilizing his mate. It was focusing more closely. At this moment, he
was an animal first and a human second. With twenty seconds to go
before the clock switched to 3:00, she began her routine -- not one of
her best, by any means, but one that was good enough.
She brushed her hand across his chest, gave him a little smile, and
wiggled her thighs.
"It's
wonderful, Wilbur," she said. "I feel you getting harder!" she said in
a tone of affection and respect. "My clit's on fire!" It really was
ready to release her to a fine orgasm. She was getting fucked, and her
body loved it. With five seconds to go, her voice turned pure lust,
"Come, spurt, come!" she moaned. Her own orgasm began, and she
celebrated once more her female desire to be fertilized, impregnated,
bred.
Wilbur's first shot of creamy sperm surged high up in Jill's cunt at
one second after the hour.
Not bad, she thought, through the haze of her own orgasm.
At six seconds after three o'clock, Wilbur's spurts had stopped. He
didn't withdraw right away.
"Sorry, you sweet hunk," Jill cooed. "But I've got to go now."
"OK, my goddess," he moaned, flopping down beside her.
She
slipped into the room next door, squatted, and used a narrow spatula to
coax his seed from her pussy into the little dish. Picking up her dish,
she stood and waited. Cathy came through the other door fifteen seconds
later.
Jill stood with arms crossed, tapping her foot.
Cathy stuck out her tongue at Jill and they both smiled. Fifteen
seconds late for a rendezvous like this wasn't bad.
Cathy
scraped her teaspoon of vaginal gleanings into the dish with Jill's,
then dumped in a powdered baby aspirin, and Jill stirred the mixture.
Drawing the mixture up into a small blunt syringe, Jill proceeded
through a third door off of that room to where Sarah lay on her back,
legs up in stirrups.
"OK, here's the treatment," said Jill in a
clinical tone, then inserted the syringe up Sarah's pussy and plunged.
Jill told her to down the contents of a small cup and then Jill gave
her an injection in her arm with a standard needle syringe. The
injection and drink were just to confuse Sarah about just what kind of
treatment she had received.
Within a few seconds Sarah got that wondrous expression on her face,
smiled at Jill, then settled back with her eyes closed.
Jill breathed a sigh of relief.
Sarah's
skills, confidence, and insight all increased, just as Jill and Cathy
had hoped, and the other girls got the same treatment with the same
results. The girls knew that some sort of medical procedure had given
them the calm and insight they had needed to finish the training -- but
they didn't know what.
The fourteen pairs of trainers fanned out
across the country and began their own recruitment and training. Dozens
of teens and young women in each city learned to welcome getting fucked
by any man, however obnoxious. They focused on their own pleasure at
mating, suppressing their innate urge to seek a corresponding
commitment or meaningful relationship. Building on their own inherent
youth, beauty, and charm, they also learned how to give a man a truly
fantastic sexual experience -- when they wanted to.
Girls didn't need to all achieve a black belt in sluttery.
Some girls could make sex fantastic for men -- but only if they were
kind to her, or no more than one new man a month.
Some
could easily stand to get laid by dozens of different men every week,
even if all she offered was the simple joy of ordinary sex with a
pretty, lusty girl.
And finally, a pretty girl who was willing
to carry on a relationship with a rich young man could be a great boon
to the cause. That wasn't so different from what some women have always
done, but the girl could be relieved of some of the self-doubt. If the
man was the sort who was not strongly opposed to what she stood for, a
little garden-variety withholding of sex could work wonders.
Nina led Eric into the bedroom, turned and smiled at him.
With
an artfully seductive look, she raised her face a little. Eric leaned
in to kiss her. At that point the video showed only Eric's back, but
they could see Nina's one hand drawing circles in his hair, her other
tracing along the top of his jeans at the back.
Nina broke the
kiss and turned the pair a quarter turn clockwise as they stood.
Perhaps she was deliberately arranging for a better video angle -- the
girl wanted feedback! She started unbuttoning his shirt, but paused
when he went to work on her silky blouse.
She stuck her chest out just a little and tossed her head to the side
to send her long blond hair over her shoulder.
When
he had undone the last button, she shrugged out of the blouse and
turned around with a smile to give him access to the catch on her bra.
It was especially easy to undo.
As she turned back, the fire in
his eyes showed that he was impressed with her B-cup breasts. He gulped
as he reached out to fondle them.
Soon they were naked on the
bed. Nina undulated her hips just right as Eric fondled her between the
legs. She moved her lower legs around just a little by bending her
knees and ankles, stoking his fire a little more though he was not
conscious of the effect.
His fondling was clumsy at best. She
headed off his attempt to give her oral sex, saying with total
sincerity that it wasn't her favorite.
She nudged him onto his
back and went to work on his body. After a brief scalp massage her
hands traced over his scratchy cheeks, and she gave an appropriate
little murmur of approval at this masculine feature. She worked over
his arms and chest. She could see as clearly as Jill and Cathy that he
didn't really enjoy nipple stimulation, so she headed lower.
Her
hands moved expertly over his inner thighs and balls, leading him to
shut his eyes and sigh. After massaging the skin all around the base of
his cock through his ample pubic hair, her hands gradually worked up
his rigid, throbbing pole.
She freed one of her hands and
reached up to tug his head hair just a bit. With one hand anchored on
his cock, gently stroking, and the other on his hair, she moved her
head upward along the line separating them. She brushed her cheek and
hair across his chest as she slid her face up his body to kiss him on
the lips. Soft skin and hair suddenly replaced by a warm, wet cavity
foreshadowed for his mouth what awaited him below. Her left breast slid
seductively back and forth over his chest.
Reversing direction,
she kissed quickly down his chest to his lower parts, then rearranged
herself suddenly. She straddled his legs facing him, partly up on her
knees, legs wide apart, emphasizing her sex. It was a promise, and his
face clearly showed that he understood it.
Then she lowered her
face onto his cock, hair cascading around his entire pelvic area. The
video didn't show exactly how she was licking and sucking and stroking,
but it was relatively easy to teach and she was undoubtedly doing it
superbly. When she felt him starting to get too excited she scaled back
her oral work. It seemed that she had nailed the technique of giving
him an exquisite, ongoing even pleasure as he lay there, her mouth
making love to his pole. After perhaps three minutes of that, she
lessened her ministrations enough that they could see that he felt a
little dissatisfied.
Nina addressed his dissatisfaction by
turning onto her back, legs spread wide, and inviting him within. The
suddenness of her opening up to him excited him, as evident from his
leering expression. That little dissatisfaction she had orchestrated
made the pleasure he felt on entry into her pussy especially wonderful
by contrast.
Now Nina turned on the words. "Oh, that's right! Mmmmm. I love it hard
and deep. A little faster?"
As
he gazed into her eyes, her face became mobile and expressive. She gave
the perfectly alluring smiles, shy glances, and moans that were a large
part of what made the experience so extraordinary for him.
"Oh, Eric!" she moaned with an urgent, sexy voice.
Eric
was in heaven, thrusting his member deep into his mate, getting ready
for the ejaculation that was the ultimate purpose of it all. He was
focused in on his inner animal, and the animal was focused on fucking
the cunt beneath him. That left his higher, human mind vulnerable, and
Nina rewarded it with a variety of those alluring signals of respect,
affection, and lust that the human mind craves.
They could see
that Nina was letting her feminine nature go as well. Despite Eric's
clumsy foreplay, she was fully aroused and approaching orgasm herself.
"Come,
please!" she whispered. "I'm so ready it hurts! I can't come until you
do! Deep inside me, Eric! Let it all go deep! Fuck my cunt, Eric! Ooo,
I can feel it, yes, Eric, yes, ohhh!" she shouted. Eric squeaked out
his pleasure as his cock unloaded his creamy seed deep inside of Nina.
She shrieked with a 100% natural orgasm.
After a moment he
rolled off of her. She stroked his cock and balls gently. It had been
just 17 minutes since they entered the room. Fantastic sex for men
wasn't necessarily long sex.
The video skipped to a faster speed at that point. Five minutes later,
Nina sat up on the bed.
"When can I see you again?" asked Eric, trying not to sound too eager.
"Oh,
let me think, I'm awfully busy... But I volunteer at the Parmenter For
Senate campaign a lot. He's the Pragmatic candidate. If you stop by
there I'm often in."
"OK!" Eric said eagerly.
The video switched to Nina addressing the camera head on.
"Eric
is one of our most passionate and loyal volunteers. I give him sex
pretty much like this every couple weeks, and it keeps him working. I'm
involved with about 25 different men to some degree," she finished.
Parmenter was going to win her district by a landslide.
It was the most important meeting to date, and there was only one girl
for the job: Jill.
There
was an open Senate seat in Oregon, and the other senator from the state
was one Senator Isaac Goldman. He was popular, and his endorsement was
eagerly sought by all the candidates in the Democratic primary.
Judging
by their respective positions on the issues, pundits doubted Goldman
would endorse Parmenter. The candidate had arranged a meeting, but it
was not clear how many audiences he would be granted.
Parmenter
was accompanied by only one aide, a girl who didn't look old enough to
be a college graduate. "Senator Goldman, I'd like you to meet my
assistant, Robin."
Isaac Goldman was an older man, and
investigation had revealed he was happily married and had no history of
dalliances. If one of the Pragmatic girls could have gotten him into
bed, he would have been a goner -- but they couldn't. Jill's job was a
subtle one.
They knew he had had a serious crush on a girl named
Robin in high school. Goldman couldn't hide his surge of emotion as he
beheld Jill for the first time. Jill extended her hand for a handshake,
but something in the way she presented it had the aura of a debutante
extending a hand to be kissed.
Jill was not dressed to emphasize
her sexuality, she was dressed to emphasize her innocence -- and her
demeanor was calibrated to match.
"Senator," she said demurely.
As
Parmenter explained his positions on the issues and other endorsements,
the senator tried unsuccessfully to keep his gaze from wandering to
Jill. He couldn't help himself.
"Nice to meet you, sir," Jill
said as they left. It was not a tone of seduction, which would have
immediately raised the senator's defenses. It was a tone of frank,
innocent pleasure. As she left, Jill knew some of the senator's
thoughts. He knew that this Robin truly liked him, truly found him sexy
and interesting, and was truly glad to have met him. He knew she was
way too good a girl to ever try seducing him or to accept any advances
from him. But oh, just to be in her presence now and then...
As
the years went by, the Pragmatic Faction became dominant within the
Democratic Party, and the voters gave the Democratic Party a large,
stable, ongoing grip on power.
How did they do it? One answer
started with the time-honored observation that money rules politics.
Under the influence of Jill, Cathy, and a handful of others, the
Faction ruled money. Underneath it all, those rich men wanted to fuck
more pussy, and the girls of the Faction were the ultimate in pussy.
The pull of mating is very strong in the first place, and the girls
knew how to intensify it to previously unknown levels.
The girls
were too young to run for office themselves, but every Pragmatic
candidate had a press secretary who mesmerized her listeners. Although
it wasn't exactly advertised, those press secretaries were available to
key individuals for fucking -- and somehow the men who were so rewarded
were crazy for more. But just seeing those beauties expounding the
candidate's positions had a subtle effect on ordinary men's votes.
With
regard to women, there was the delicate matter of the girls having
affairs with their husbands. This was handled in a number of ways. Some
of the liaisons were platonic, as was Jill's with Senator Parmenter. In
the standard cases where cock skewered cunt, girls would never tell, so
simple discretion handled a great deal of it. Also, no girl ever stole
a husband away from a woman -- the girls were absolutely forbidden from
forming exclusive relationships with any of the targets of their wiles.
Next, the key strategic assumption behind the Faction was the ability
of women to control men through their sexual desires. When this
philosophy became known, women began to care a bit less about affairs.
Women tended to support the Faction because their issues on positions
were ones most women supported -- generous maternity leave,
reproductive freedom, and vigorous enforcement of the laws already on
the books that made discrimination against women illegal. And in the
end, of course, some women did oppose the Faction because of jealousy
or disagreement on the issues.
Fundamentalists of all religions
were opposed to the Faction's tactics on moral grounds. Their
opposition was neutralized to some extent because a fair number of the
leaders themselves fell victim to the charms of the Faction girls, so
they lost energy dealing with scandal within their own ranks. To some
extent, though, they were just outvoted. A party which commands a mere
51% of the vote in the vast majority of districts in the country can
rule with only token opposition, and the Faction got far more than 51%.
Ultimately,
the Faction earned the loyalty of the electorate through just plain old
good government. Special-interest provisions were stripped away in
rapid succession. Agricultural subsidies were phased out, there were no
special breaks for energy companies or hospitals and insurance
companies. Pork barrel projects and Pentagon boondoggles dried up.
Labor unions were decertified in droves and the rights of labor were
protected directly through the legislative process. Market capitalism
was still the basis of the economy, but it was regulated. There were
rules to protect the environment and public health, but the rules were
sensible and consistent. With a level playing field, corporations
worked within the regulations and used their creativity to make record
profits within the regulated landscape. Those changes earned the
gratitude of just about everyone. But all that took decades.
It
sounds too good to be true. Human nature is immutable, and over time
corruption, greed, and thirst for power erode good government.
One
small bit of human nature had changed, however. A double shot of sperm
and an aspirin gave girls and women powers of persuasion, but also
insights which worked against that corruption, greed, and love of
power. Only a few hundred women had ever gotten that treatment, but
that was all it took. And there were only two people on earth who knew
about the double shot with aspirin: Jill Ford and Cathy MacLean.
When
the Pragmatics first controlled the Presidency, the House, and 60 votes
in the Senate, Jill was 21 and Cathy was 20. Everyone knew they were
close to the center of power with the Pragmatics, but few knew just how
central they were. They never spoke in public, never granted
interviews, and were seldom seen.
The
President of the United States wanted to do some thinking about the
thorny problem of the Israelis and Palestinians once more. She thought
she had a promising approach, but it was very complicated.
Jill adopted her usual position for thinking. She lay back on her
couch, naked, and pressed a key on her wrist phone.
A
naked man came in, his most striking feature a copious growth of gray
chest hair. He had serviced her many times before, but she hadn't
bothered to learn his name. His body was pudgy and he wasn't especially
handsome, in his late 60s, perhaps. His cock was hard, though.
"Come
here, big man, and do me," she said. He approached, smiling a little,
and eased himself down on her. She studied his face as he guided his
cock to her pussy lips and began to push in. She was absentmindedly
holding them open and wiggling her pelvis slightly, and she saw his
intellect fade out and his animal brain take over.
"Mmmm, that's nice," Jill said. She raised her head to whisper in his
ear, "Let yourself go: breed me!"
After
all these years, she still wasn't quite sure exactly what happened in a
man's brain at that point. No man could give an adequate explanation.
The
control passed from mammalian brain to reptilian brain -- but that was
too simple. His pelvis moved rapidly back and forth, his butt wiggling
with each thrust inside her. His whole world was limited to his body
and hers. The reptile's vision confirmed that his cock was thrusting
deep into his mate's cunt. It wasn't going to pop out by accident and
make him waste his seed. His entire being was focused on getting that
cock in as deep as it could go, and thrusting back and forth with a
frenzy, absorbing from the walls of her cunt the stimulation to signal
his brain stem that it was time to shoot the sperm out. Time to
impregnate his mate. Right on cue, she watched his man's body stiffen
and his eyes close as the cum spurted out in rhythmic pulses. He moaned
and continued his inward pistoning just to the point where his cock had
delivered the last major blob of semen, then he started relaxing.
"Thanks for the sperm, big boy," she cooed, and he got up off her with
a satisfied grin and headed to the exit door.
Since
she was a young girl, she had known that that one act was at the heart
of male nature, but her understanding had deepened with time. All his
other instincts were prelude to that act. As a boy he tussled with the
others, competed in games, and honed whatever skills would put him
above the others. In the adult world, he jockeyed for the best job, the
promotions and raises, all for the opportunity to translate his higher
status into more fucking of fertile women.
Only the tiniest
minority of ordinary men could fuck the President herself, but a few
did. A few ordinary guys of no distinction whatsoever were invited to
fuck the President and gave glowing press accounts. All the men knew it
could happen to them. They could win the lottery without buying a
ticket.
Men of power could easily have access to the President
if they did what the Faction asked. Some of the Senators and
Representatives were also well worth fucking, and those that weren't,
including notably the men, all had staffers who could satisfy their
constituents. The pattern continued all the way down to the town
committees. In the early years, the Progressive Faction had had its
most stunning successes in the Primary season in the caucus states.
Voters in caucus states have to devote several hours to the process
instead of casting a simple vote, and there was nothing to motivate a
voter like the prospect of superb sex with whatever bombshell was
associated with the Faction in that town.
The next man who
entered was probably 30 or so. His cock was also hard and needed no
encouragement from her before it could penetrate her. He too was a
regular, and eagerly approached his prize and slid it in. His inner
reptile engaged immediately, and he jammed himself into her with
unusual force. He knew she liked him to come quickly, and his pulses
started within seconds. He kept thrusting for many seconds after his
final pulse of semen had shot up into her, and she wondered just what
that was about.
"Thank you, Jonathan," she said.
He knew
that was a command of dismissal, and his hard cock slid back out, her
pussy tissues closing up after his glans as it exited.
"Miss
President," he said with a mock salute. He was an official of no
account, yet having just fucked her and delivered sperm up inside her,
an important part of him felt superior to the President of the United
States. She and her Faction members cultivated that feeling, while
giving the right messages so he would remain loyal. Deep down, he went
along because he wanted another chance to fuck one of the Faction.
Manipulating a man like him was so easy.
She issued a different
command and in walked the virgin boy Nathan. He had been with her the
day before and had ejaculated prematurely. A big glob of his cum had
arced up and hit her on the face. She had been surprised and annoyed,
but then analyzed those feelings to advantage as she licked some of his
cum and tasted it. People from the countryside counted themselves
extraordinarily lucky to be chosen to meet the President at all and
they only got one shot into her -- and he had missed. But he intrigued
her, so she had set him at ease and suggested he try again the next
day. Nathan was a genius as judged by test scores on the Putnam exam.
Being a genius upped the odds of being asked to service the President.
Being a virgin genius upped a guy's chances even more.
She had
studied his reaction after his failed attempt the day before to see
what insight into human nature it might give. She had wanted him to try
again the next day because she wanted to see his reaction then as well.
She made herself as alluring as possible as he approached, wanting to
give him a challenge. If he failed again that would be even more
interesting. But she saw his determined control as he approached her,
virgin cock hard. That cock still had to learn exactly where it was
supposed to shoot its load. Determined Nathan approached, and then she
felt his great relief when his tip penetrated the Presidential pussy.
Then she could see his brain surge with that incredible lift that comes
from a first fuck, the first time the body has felt all those signals
for mating coming together. Hot wetness, seeing his prong disappearing
between a woman's legs, seeing the lithe figure and breasts and her
beautiful smile. All systems screamed "ejaculate!" and within a few
strokes he did, gasping with a priceless expression of mingled ecstasy,
conquest, and surprise. That sudden shift from determined self-control
before penetration to ecstasy afterwards was interesting. She wondered
if she could harness some variant of that to further her political ends.
She
felt and then saw his cock shriveling as he pulled out. Quite suddenly
his lust gave way to anxiety and awkwardness. He was now in the
presence of the President of the United States and didn't know what to
do. She just remained silent and watched. He had been instructed to
wait until he was dismissed. She kept him a good two minutes, watching
as his cock subsided completely and his discomfort reached a sort of
asymptote, changing no further, before dismissing him.
"Thanks,
Nathan. That was special for me too," she added sincerely. "The local
Faction members will be delighted to meet you," she said with a
suggestive smile. Having geniuses among the party faithful was usually
a good thing, if they were basically decent people. And Nathan was
clearly a decent person.
Jill decided she had had studied male
nature enough for the moment. She wasn't through with getting fucked,
however -- she was just through with concentrating on it.
She pulled some stirrups out of the sides of her couch, stuck her feet
in them, closed her eyes, and let her mind wander.
She
was dimly aware of one man after another approaching, sliding in,
humping, and spurting. Those men were all Washington bureaucrats who
had done her before and knew the routine. With the couch at the right
height, the men didn't need to lie down but could do her standing up.
It was faster and less distracting for her. Sometimes she liked to see
men's bodies above her, and even liked having them lie on her and mix
their sweat with hers while gently squishing the Presidential breasts.
But mostly she was content with the surge of the smooth, hard organ up
inside her, the frenzied in and out motion, and the final urgent
presses that heralded ejaculation.
After two hours, she had had
enough. Twenty-five guys had ejaculated up inside her, but the semen
from 25 men didn't stay. The intrusion of the next cock, and especially
its deep penetration, forced most of the previous sperm out. But her
bed had a funnel under her butt. The displaced semen drained into a
vial that was part of a turkey-baster-style syringe. She now reached
down to unfasten it and looked at the milky fluid. Several factors
increased the amount the guys shot into her: her beauty, her smile, the
alluring body language and words she had perfected, and the fact that
she was a person of great power. Still, what each guy produced wasn't
all that much, and she now had not even a quarter cup. She promptly lay
back and injected it deep up her cunt where the men had put it
originally with such animal passion. Then she chased it with a single
aspirin tablet. She lay with her knees up, and the semen stayed there
as long as no intruding cock pushed it out.
Aided by the
aspirin, certain components were absorbed through her vaginal walls
into her bloodstream. They helped her think creatively. Like most
creative thinking, the vast majority was junk, but now and then a good
idea came to her, and very occasionally a brilliant idea. When she had
been but a tiny girl, she had discovered that the sperm of two men and
an aspirin changed her perspective on life and empowered her
dramatically. She and Cathy had discovered that four men's sperm gave
them more subtle longer-range insights -- though at the cost of
considerable physical illness. Now, as a woman of 37, she could take
the sperm of any number of men chased by aspirin and feel no ill
effects. She wasn't sure if the sperm past a dozen men actually helped,
but it did no harm.
Jill herself had developed a strong sex
drive at puberty, and it had never deserted her. She had been aroused
by the thrusting of the 25 cocks she had taken, and she had even given
in to a few mini-orgasms along the way. Now she wanted the real thing.
She fingered her clit gently, and within about a minute let herself go
with a fine, strong orgasm. It was at that moment, with a cunt full of
cum and ecstatic pulses seizing her brain, that she was mostly like to
have an interesting idea.
As her orgasm faded, an image came to
her mind of a two-by-two square. "Muslims" and "Jews" labeled the
columns, and "Devout" and "Secular" named the rows. In the four cells
were slices of bacon of different sizes. The two religions shared a
prohibition on eating pork. But each society had some people who
observed that prohibition and some who didn't. Could she somehow
incorporate that commonality as part of a message to calm hearts and
minds? It might not be a brilliant idea, but it was an idea and it was
new. If it still seemed interesting tomorrow, she would mention it in
the next staff meeting on the Middle East.
Garrett
Buffett Gates awaited her in the Lincoln bedroom. A bachelor of roughly
her own age, Garrett commanded one of the largest fortunes on earth.
Jill was happy to share her pussy with him at least once a month.
Men
like a variety of sexual positions, but the truly fantastic experiences
are to be had in the missionary position. Unlike a doggy-style, the
woman's face and chest are fully visible, and unlike any position with
a woman on top, the man's own thrusts cause his orgasm, at whatever
tempo he likes best.
Garrett really had no idea why he found sex
with the President so fantastic. He could say that as he held himself
up on his arms he saw a gorgeous woman below him, breasts sloping
artfully, legs spread wide, pussy inviting him within. He could quote
some of the things she said to him, could mention her vaginal squeezes,
could refer to how she strained her hips upward at him when she came.
But that was only the half of it. If he shared that with a buddy, the
guy would say, "So?"
What he would die for was something he
couldn't put his finger on. Jill could, though, and she could have
taught it, though only members of the Order of Two Shots Chased By
Aspirin would truly get it. (The Order was a secret known only to her
and Cathy, and none of the other members knew they were members).
Mostly
she used standard techniques. However, Jill knew Garrett well enough
that she could tune her caresses and wiggles and tone of voice and
timing to exactly how he was feeling at a particular moment. All of the
Pragmatic Girls could read a man's reactions and respond accordingly,
but with a man she knew well, Jill was master.
Garrett knew he
was fucking a woman in missionary position. He didn't understand how
Jill's moan resonated with his raw adolescent desire, how her light
touch on his left testicle had a more profound effect than it would
have on his right, how her whisper met for a moment his need for true
love.
He did know that about five minutes after sliding into the
Presidential cunt, he convulsed with orgasm as he foamed her depths
with his billionaire's seed.
Jill came too, a good, solid orgasm celebrating the mating desire of
her inner mammal.
"That was great, Garrett."
"Yes, Miss President," he moaned, still catching his breath.
"See you later!" she said with a lilt as she put her robe back on and
left.
It
was a scandal to many that Speaker of the House Cathy MacLean lived at
the White House. What about separation of powers? The simple answer was
that the House was free to elect as Speaker anyone they chose, and the
President of the United States could invite anyone she wanted to live
in her digs.
Cathy and Jill did not forget their roots. Oscar
also lived at the White House. He fucked either the Speaker or the
President just about every day, and he was often their guest at
breakfast. He had never left their household since the day they drove
off from the farm in John's stolen truck. But he rarely actually slept
the night with either of them. His primary sexual attraction was to
pre-pubescent girls, but even as they grew into full-bodied women,
Cathy and Jill had ample skill to resemble little girls in just the
right ways.
Now, the two women settled down side by side in the presidential bed.
"How was your day, Miss Speaker?"
"Not too bad -- and yours, Miss President?"
"Fine, fine."
They hugged for a few minutes.
"Cathy, do you remember getting fucked by all four guys, day after day?"
"How could I forget? Pretty miserable, wasn't it?"
"It
was totally awful. I only got fucked by two, in practice, while you did
all four. It's easy to say in retrospect that it was all for the best,
but that's not fair."
"No -- while it was happening, we had no idea it would ever stop."
"Whatever made me stick an aspirin up my pussy?"
They hugged some more.
Jill continued, "When did we first foresee this? -- I mean the
Pragmatic dominance, not actually being Speaker and President."
"Right after the double-double, right?"
"We saw the glimmers, I guess. But I never believed it would actually
happen."
"No, me neither. Well, maybe I did. I can't really sort it out from my
memories."
The two rested.
Jill said, "There's so much to do! Life was sure simpler when all we
had to do was spread our little legs once or twice a day."
They both laughed.
"I've
got three more years to this term, then hopefully four more. You could
have two terms. That's fifteen more years. I guess we can do a lot in
that time, but there's just so much to do. I don't mind the fucking
part -- that's fun. It's all the meetings, meetings, meetings."
"Delegate, my dear, delegate."
Conversation over, the two slowed their thoughts and relaxed. Cathy was
nearly asleep when Jill spoke.
"Cathy, there's one thing I think I need to do."
"What's that?"
"Want to guess?"
"Hmmmm." Cathy sat up and looked at the President. "Your dad?" she
said, eyes wide open.
Jill's
mother had killed herself five years after her initial arrest. Jill
regretted she hadn't been able to talk with her, but she knew full well
it wasn't her fault.
It was known that she was estranged from
her father. Rumors were that he had abused her when she was little. The
media checked him out during the campaign, but as there was little to
report, they left him alone.
He lived alone on the third floor
of an apartment building and earned a living doing piecework data entry
for a health insurance company. The computer skills that he had used to
earn good money during Jill's youth were soon out of date. His
obsession with Jill, his time at John's farm, and his efforts to get
over it had all taken a toll on him. When he tried to return to use his
technical skills again, he had been unable to catch up.
Since
the early days of the Faction, one very sensitive assignment had been
monitoring him now and then to see if he was approaching any little
girls, but he wasn't.
He sat at his computer on a crisp October
Wednesday morning. If he had been a bit more observant, Bruce might
have noticed a certain amount of commotion as the Secret Service
surrounded his building and people commented on it.
He answered his door buzzer.
"Who is it?" he asked irritably. Religious fanatics, political
candidates, and obnoxious entrepreneurs were his only callers.
"It's me, daddy. Jill. Can I come talk with you?"
"Um ... OK, sweetie," he said, heart pounding and mind reeling.
That sounded like his little girl. But she was President, wasn't she?
Or was he going crazy?
When
he opened the door, a friendly man in a suit begged his pardon and took
a quick look around before motioning Jill in and leaving the two of
them alone.
He only glanced up at her briefly; he couldn't hold her gaze.
"I'm proud of you, honey," he said.
"Thanks," said the President. "But that's not why I'm here."
Jill knew he was 64, but he looked older. Jill started stripping.
"Jill! What are you ... ? No, honey!"
"Yes, daddy. Your little girl needs you."
He let her take his hand, then let her start unbuttoning his shirt.
She
was a mature woman now, and looked totally different from the little
girl he had last seen thirty years before, but he could also feel the
similarity. She knew he could.
"Come on, daddy," she said,
coaxing the naked man to his bed. His cock was hard, and with a mere
touch here and sweet word there, he was on top of her, entering her
pussy once more. One part of her that hadn't grown to speak of in the
past thirty years was her pussy. That had already been adult size way
back then.
Jill's once more took in the smell and touch of her
daddy, the man who had fucked her so many times, starting at such a
young age. She attended to her feelings and delved into the free
associations. Even with all her training and insight, her equanimity
was strained.
Her chore, it had been, to let him fuck her. Her chore.
There
he was, grunting and pushing, humping away, drive towards orgasm.
Although she had deftly maneuvered him into this position, he had been
so easy to maneuver. There was his male animal, humping away, ready to
ejaculate inside his mate, his dumb animal trying once more to conceive
a child. Never mind that she was his daughter, that he had raped her
for years and delivered her to other men for their pleasure, that he
hadn't seen her in thirty years, and that she was the President of the
United States.
After five minutes, she had absorbed from the
experience all she wanted; she had wrestled with her feelings long
enough. She could also feel his cock starting to soften just a little.
"OK, daddy," she said in a little girl's voice. "Come for me, daddy."
He did, with a groan, spurting over and over. Jill judged he hadn't
come in at least a week.
Emerging from his orgasmic fog, he came to his senses.
"Oh sweetie!" he said. "I shouldn't have done that!" He sighed.
"It's OK, daddy," she said. "I seduced you, and you didn't have a
chance. You didn't have a chance -- this time."
She
continued, "But what about thirty years ago?" She started tearing up.
"It was my chore. How could fucking her father ever be a girl's chore?"
"I ... I was sick, Jill, I was sick."
"Don't
hide behind 'sick'!" she said, heatedly. "You had a choice. You could
have stopped yourself. You knew it was wrong. But you went right ahead!
'Treating' my vagina. Bullshit! That wasn't just an impulse of lust!
That was a plan, carried out over days! And then making it my 'chore'!"
She
could see her father truly grappling with his demons, looking within
himself and seeing once more what he did not like. "I was terrible,
Jill. It was my fault, and I take responsibility, and I apologize." He
met her gaze.
"That's a start," the President noted with a brief sob.
"I ... I regret what I did every day, or at least every week."
Jill crashed her fist down on the bed.
"Every week?" she shouted.
"Yeah,
well, I couldn't live with myself if I thought about it all the time.
And it's confusing, too, since you and your group rose to power and all
the good you're doing, and then you're President. It must be related,
right?"
"That has nothing to do with it!" she shouted. "It wasn't one iota less
wrong!"
"I know, I know," her dad continued, confused. "It's just hard to keep
it all separate."
Jill looked at the graying, confused, and very, very imperfect man who
had been her father, and she started crying.
"Oh, um ...," said her father. He then continued, softly, "Is there
anything I can do right now?"
"Yes," the President sniffled. "Hold me."
And while Jill didn't quite fit in his arms the way she used to, her
head still fit on his chest and he could cradle her torso.
She cried, and he rocked her gently. She stopped for a minute now and
then, but then she would start up again.
From the hall, low voices could be heard consulting, voices that
conveyed uncertainty and concern, but no one knocked.
Finally, after 45 minutes, the President wearily sat up on the bed next
to her father.
"Even when you were being a pedophile asshole slimeball turd, you still
loved me, didn't you?"
"I ... It felt that way," he said humbly.
She
put her hand on his shoulder. "I forgive --" She paused, then took a
breath. "I'm working on forgiving you." After another pause, "But I do
love you."
With that the President rose, cutting off whatever reply he might have
been formulating.