Covfefe

by MechaBlade

He awoke with a start. Through bleary eyes, he read the clock. 11:50PM. He woke up suddenly on most nights due to his night terrors, but usually it happened sometime around 3AM. This was ridiculous. He had barely just gotten into bed.

Still, it was unlikely that he'd fall back to sleep without an aid, so he turned on the TV. This was his only recourse until his wife started sleeping in his bed again. Usually, a little midnight blowjob would sedate his troubled mind and he'd fall fast asleep (except on Sundays; she didn't work on Sundays). But that was not an option with his wife still living in New York. Now all he had was Fox News @ Night.

Donald J. Trump sat upright in his bed and watched Fox News, waiting for the inevitable. Soon enough it came. Although the segment was about the left's war on Christianity, they mentioned his name. No matter what the topic was nowadays, everyone was talking about Trump.

Before I was president, he thought, the media would talk about Iraq and Congress and Obama and the environment. The news was not great. Now, Trump's taken over, big league. The media are like junkies, addicted to my every word and action. Everyone wants a piece of Trump.

The only downside… they're trying to tear me down. The media's turned against me. The same press that had given me tons of free press now records, replays, and discusses my every mistake for hours on end.

Not that I've really made any big mistakes. For a non-politician, I'm doing great. I'd love to see anyone else get as much done as I've done in just a few months. Hell, today I must've signed 100 laws. I doubt any president—especially Obama—did this much in a few mere months.

I have to fix this. I just have to out-think them. I'm a thinker, so it's just a matter of time before I figure it out. I'm like some sort of mad genius—no, a stable genius—so it's just a matter of time until I figure out how to beat them.

He watched with amusement. Fox didn't always get it right, but Donald felt they always gave him a fair shake, while the rest of the media was praying for his downfall. Fox showed the good and the bad. And they always pointed out the hypocrisy of the left.

Curiosity suddenly struck, and he flipped to CNN, half-expecting to see some flaming effigy of himself. The topic was Russia.

Again, he thought. No talk of the economy, of jobs, of my beautiful soon-to-be-built wall, and how I'm trying to fix health care. No, it's this Russia bullshit again. My haters will never stop!

Time to tweet. Donald grabbed his phone and readied his thumbs.

"The haters in the mainstream-"

"The hateful media constantly brings up about Russia. Yet look at the-"

He stopped. He needed something more positive. Enough with the angry rants. Focus on your successes! Tell them you're making America Great Again. MAGA! And Mike did say to stop mentioning Russia.

"Despite the constant negative press coverage," he attempted to type as he heard a door slam. However, the sudden noise jarred him and his fingers slipped, typing "covfefe" instead of "coverage". He looked down and saw his mistake. He really should finish his tweet, but the noise probably meant that Ivanka was home. And there was no time to waste.

Donald quickly slid out of bed, dropping his phone on the floor. As the phone fell, it grazed his hand, and he unknowingly hit "Send". The relatively-quiet noise of the phone dropping didn't deter him. He peeked through the eyehole of his bedroom door to assess the situation.

Ivanka (or whomever) had closed the hallway door, but left the door to her office open. Perfect. Wanting to keep her close, Donald gave her the office right across from his bedroom. The shared hallway was closed, so no one would see him if he approached her office. Her office where she often changed clothes.

Donald slowly and silently opened his bedroom door, tip toeing to her office. Two black stilettos were strewn outside partially ajar door. He smiled, knowing there was a chance she was changing. He slid up to the door and peered inside the narrow opening. There was Ivanka, facing away, fiddling with the zipper in the back of her impossibly tight black dress. Jackpot.

People could say whatever they wanted about his dumb fuck-up sons. Donald knew that he did one thing right when he made Ivanka. His failures in business, marriage, and politics... they didn't matter because he made her: a smart, beautiful, thoughtful woman. With a bitchin' bod to boot.

Donald leaned in to catch a better view and unknowingly pressed his diminutive hands against the door. The door creaked ever so quietly. He muttered, "fuck" as Ivanka turned around. She saw him immediately and rolled her eyes.

"Daddy…" she said admonishingly. She was barefoot and the straps of her dress hung lazily off her shoulders. The dress's zipper perched tantalizingly down a few inches from the top. Her hair was up in a neat bun. It was clear she had just come from a fancy party full of Washington elites.

"Sorry, I was just up because of the TV. And! This is true: I heard you come in, you woke me up so I thought I'd see who it was."

Ivanka rolled her eyes at his rambling excuse. "You can stay. I was just going to sleep in the office tonight."

Donald smiled. "How was the affair, darling?"

"Boring," she said flatly, removing her earrings. "Jen kept introducing me to all these bigwigs and I had no idea what they do, or if they're going to be important later." Blonde locks unfurled down to her shoulders as she let her hair down. "Jared was no help. He kept talking to Mr. Kislyak and was drunk in the first hour. I sent him home in an Uber hours ago." She procured a long shirt from a desk drawer. "Now, daddy, I need you to turn around." She said, knowing full well he would leer at her given the chance.

"Of course," Donald replied, as if he wasn't just spying on her as she undressed. He turned to face the door he had just entered moments ago. Ivanka also turned around and let her dress fall to the floor. Finally her body was free of awful constrictions!

Donald, of course, turned his head slightly to peer at his daughter out of the corner of his eye. He could see the glorious curve of the sides of her supple breasts. Young and tight. He loved fucking Melania, but his daughter made his wife look like a fucking hag. He quickly turned his head back to the door.

"Okay, you can turn back around," she told him.

Donald was disappointed to see she was now wearing her nightshirt, essentially a long white tee that went down to her thighs. Her nipples poked at the thin, semitransparent material, which was a small consolation. And her smooth toned legs were clearly visible.

"You are beautiful," said Donald. "Did I ever tell you that if you weren't my daughter…"

"Literally every day," she sighed, shaking her smiling head at him. Her father, the pervert. He was too embarrassing to live, let alone be president of the United States.

"Well, it's true," he cooed. "Jared doesn't know how lucky he is."

Ivanka hung up the dress in the closet. "He knows."

"Sorry. I guess I'm a little sore he took you away from me. I still remember when you were your daddy's girl."

She smiled. He really was sweet when he wanted to be. "I'm still my daddy's girl. I'll always be your girl, daddy," she said, looking him in the eyes.

Donald smiled warmly, unaware of his growing erection. They stood there a moment as he looked proudly at his daughter and she stared lovingly back. He placed a small hand on her waist. Then he removed it; after first, slowly, and then quickly, intentionally sliding it down the top of her backside.

"Daddy!"

Donald lifted his tiny hands in the air to protest his innocence. She shook her head at his shamelessness.

"You have to be careful now," she said softly. "Everyone's scrutinizing every step we make. They want to take everything we have." Ivanka noticed the tent in his pajama bottoms. Yep, she thought, my dad is horny. She ignored this thought. "When's Melania coming to DC? "

"She's all mad about something. You know your stepmom. " Actually, Donald knew exactly why she was cross with him. For whatever reason, she never supported his ambitions in anything. While it was clear that she loved reaping the benefits of a rich and famous husband: the cars, the dresses, the spas, the travel… she hated every new venture of his that required her to make a public appearance at his side. And she hated his presidential run idea with the passionate fury. He was only able to make it through last year by constantly promising her that he would never win, not in a million years, not even a tiny chance. And then he won.

"You should make her come," said Ivanka. "You're the president. Of the United States."

"Ha, maybe you don't know your stepmother."

"Where's that brilliant deal maker?" Her father just rolled his eyes and nodded, while looking a bit sad.

She hated to see him like this. He was not only the richest, most powerful man she knew—and now the president!—he was her daddy. He hadn't been the best father, but that didn't stop her from seeking his approval any less, nor wanting to cheer him up.

"Never feel sorry for yourself, " she told him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. His erection poked into her thigh as her lips met his skin. He said nothing, only looking at her with pitiful eyes. Eyes that showed a desperate need. With Jared's transgressions fresh in her mind, she felt justified in giving her father what she hadn't given him in a long time.

Donald felt his mouth go slack as his daughter reached into his pants and curled her warm, slender fingers around his dick. Although he had been wanting and waiting for this all night, it was only at this moment he realized that he was already hard. His agape mouth turned into a warm smile as he looked at his hot daughter smiling back at him and slowly jerking him off. He wanted to fuck her, bad, but didn't move in case it would ruin the moment. He was always ruining moments.

Ivanka's father looked so happy she almost wanted to suck him off. But she was never doing that again. He simply didn't have good personal hygiene. Instead, a handjob would do the trick.

"Oh, Ivanka. "

After a few strokes, he seemed to be as hard as he was going to get. Now to spit and jerk him to completion.

But it wasn't just him who needed a win. Jared hadn't fucked her in weeks and hadn't made her cum in months. She wanted something inside her and, though it shamed her to admit it to herself, her father could always consistently get her most of the way, if not all of the way. She looked around. It was late, and the secret service was sworn to secrecy. There was literally no downside.

She looked at her father's red face, already deep in pleasure, with no expectations of anything proceeding further. He kept moaning softly. Yeah, let's do this, she thought.

She stepped forward, leading Donald to the desk with her hand as his penis-leash. She then bent over the desk, pulled up her nightshirt, and dropped her panties to the floor. She looked back at him warmly, and expectantly.

Donald didn't know what he said or what he did to make her give up the goods, but he wasn't going to ruin it. He smiled a wide grin and placed his petite hands on her soft bottom. Smooth, just like a young Ivana. Her pussy was bright pink and open, just as inviting as it had been the first time. He guided his dick into her pussy and immediately sighed at the warm wetness.

Ivanka closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip as she was filled up. So many of her stupid friends went out to bars and clubs to get strange dick when they were filling horny. Risky. Reckless. They gambled on their marriages with men that could be violent, diseased, or out to sabotage them. Ivanka loved the safety of her daddy, who hadn't fucked anyone in years, save her stepmom and the occasional porn star. Sure, if anyone found out, her life was over, but he wasn't going to tell anyone. The nature of their relationship had been secret for years. Even her brothers didn't know.

Plus, there was no one on earth more manly than her daddy. Billionaire. President. Tycoon. Alpha. He wasn't a genius or anything, but sometimes he made pretty smart moves. This dick was a dick that moved mountains. There's nothing hotter than power, and her daddy was the most powerful man in the world.

Donald slid back and forth a few times, teasing her, before he really started fucking. He might have been in terrible health, but he had enough stamina to fuck. He clapped her young, tight bottom with reckless abandon as he gave her what he knew was the fuck of her life.

"Daddy," she moaned, softly enough not to alert the secret service. They already knew she fucked her father sometimes. The secret service were the only ones who knew. But there was no need to alert them now that it was happening again.

It felt good to be filled up, even if it was by her dad. He apparently applied nepotism to all things, even his sex partners. She laughed at her own joke, then went back to squeezing her dad's dick with her wet pussy. Kegel. Kegel. Kegel.

Sweat poured down Donald's face. Ivanka was tighter than a duck's asshole, and he felt himself close. It was lucky because he was losing steam. He doubled his pace, which caused her small ass to ripple faster. Look at those ripples, boy, he thought. That's the ass of a ten. I made this. Her soft moaning became staccato as he pounded her light frame. I made this. I made this. With the image of Nancy Pelosi briefly flashing in his head, he came hard, shooting hot cum into his daughter's pussy. "I…," he slurred.

"Huh," she exhaled, as her father grunted her brothers and sisters into her cunt. She was fixed, so there was no need to worry about pregnancy. She was just surprised that he hadn't lasted a full sixty seconds. After some thought, she was glad for his speed. It made this risky rendezvous less likely to be found out. And she would finish herself off when he left.

"Ah, ah, unhhhh," Donald grunted as he came. He felt glorious spilling his seed of the hottest pussy in town. His heavy frame leaned on her for stability, but, as an avid excerciser, Ivanka carried his weight gracefully. She held tight to the desk and waited for him to regain his composure. Eventually, he stood back up, leaving only a stain of his stomach sweat in the back of her nightshirt. He wiped his brow and pulled out of Ivanka. "Oh, thank you, baby. Thank you." He stumbled backwards, almost tripping over his own feet.

Ivanka smiled back at him, her wet cunt still pulsating. As he pulled himself together, she turned around and embraced him. She gave him a warm kiss on the lips and told him, "Thanks, daddy," with glowing red cheeks.

Dizzy from his orgasm and finally feeling sleepy, Donald smiled, patted her tight bottom with his teeny hand, and lumbered back to his room.

He didn't think much about what he had just done. It used to trouble him, committing incest with his own daughter, but the line had already been crossed long ago and nowadays she always made the first move. Now his only concern was when he would get to fuck her next. He knew the next one would be months away, if it ever happened again. It was fine. He was satisfied for now. He crashed onto his bed and slept.

The angry ring of the phone woke him in the morning. It was early. Usually he wasn't to be bothered until after he showered, so something was definitely wrong. Donald searched for the source of the sound.

"Where the fuck is my phone?" he mumbled as he discovered it discarded on the floor. He picked it up, bracing for bad news.

It was his chief of staff. "Mr. President, what got into you last night?"

Donald began to sweat as he felt a blooming terror envelop him. Dear God, no.

"You didn't finish your tweet. ‘Covfefe'? It looks like you had a stroke mid-tweet. Are you ok?"

Donald exhaled a large sigh of relief.


Stories

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