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Anonymous
2016-03-12 04:07:36 Post No. 7801565
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Anonymous
2016-03-12 04:07:36
Post No. 7801565
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"And this is the Lincoln bedroom. This is one of Ronnie's favorites. He likes to relax in here and just read magazines. These drapes are based on the original drapes, a nice maroon color, don't you think," Nancy said, letting her slender fingers slide down the smooth, opulent fabric.
Mr. T reached out and covered her delicate little hand with his large, calloused one. An electricity passed through Nancy's skin, tingling down her body, and she turned to him, now backed against the window, and looked up into his eyes, tender and gentle within his manly scowling face.
"Well," she said, swallowing, "I guess that's pretty much the whole tour. Maybe we should--"
He covered her mouth with his, his lips on hers, kissing and sucking. His powerful hands grabbed her lithe body, strong as iron, and he enveloped her with an overwhelming embrace. As their tongues explored each other's mouths, she felt a spreading warmth and wetness coming from her long-neglected womanhood. As if sensing her thoughts, his hands were under her skirt, the many gold rings scraping against her thighs as he pulled down her underwear, already soaked and clinging.
He hoisted her up against the window, and after some initial fumbling, he was inside her hot gash up to the hilt, filling her with a rock hardness she had never known before. Her moans sounded like they were coming from somebody else as they filled the room. Beneath this lusty, animalistic sound, was the steady clinking of his abundant gold necklaces, as he drove his thuggish love tool home, again and again. She cried out, releasing herself, abandoning herself to the ecstasy, a flood of redolent womanliness pouring from within her as her body was rocked by orgasm after post-menopausal orgasm.
"Oh, T! T!" she cried. "Yes! I say yes! Fuck me with that big black monster! Fill my dirty republican crack!"
In response to her superfluous jibba-jabba, T roared "I pity the pussy that gets fucked by Mr. T" and railed her with renewed vigor.
Nancy became aware of another sound, distinct from the clatter of jewelry. It was the steady squeaking of her ass cheeks as they rubbed up and down on the window. Suddenly, coming to her senses, she turned to look at the view behind her. The White House lawn was filled with a large group of Japanese dignitaries, all of them looking up, thoroughly engrossed with the proceedings.
Just then, a powerful tsunami of cum-power exploded through her body, and she let out a savage jungle-cry that shook the chandeliers and caused the portrait of Chester A. Arthur to hang crookedly. The window broke, and they both plummeted out onto the lawn. As they hit the ground, T's shaft was driven to the remotest reaches of Nancy's pleasure cavern, and the dam finally broke on a biblical deluge of bitch-goo that left the Japanese ambassadors stunned, soaked, and eventually applauding.
