Yes, Mr. President

Chapter 1 by Underboss3 Underboss3

"And I really don't believe that I can support a bill that will leave so many of our nation's poorest citizens without a safety net." Senator Steve Caine from New York droned on and on. The pompous windbag had been the bane of your existence ever since your freshman year in the U.S. Senate. Now, he is determined to make your presidency look like it is a tool of corporate America.

"Well, Steve," you say while standing up (the signal to the holier-than-thou bastard that you have no more time for him), "I'm sorry you can't see things the way this administration does. I'll definitely keep your critiques in mind when we send the bill to you guys for consideration." As the senator left the Oval Office, you let out a long sigh. It really was going to be one of THOSE days. In the seven months you've been president, you have had way more than your share of THOSE days.

The presidency was beginning to take its toll on you. Although you look younger than most 53 year old men you know, you have noticed the beginnings of wrinkles on your face to go along with the new grey hairs that are sprouting all over your head.

You sit back down behind your antique desk (the one used by Roosevelt, and Kennedy and Reagan) and smile to yourself. The job may be stressful, but some of the perks of the job are fantastic. Sure the airplanes, helicopters and armored cars are cool, but your favorite perk is the women that flock to you. They definitely come in handy when it's time to release some of the tension of the occupation.

"As a matter of fact," you think to yourself, "now is great time to do just that." You think about the women in your administration who are more than willing to?do? anything their president needs them to do.

Your press secretary Rachel Meyers has been with you since your days in the Senate. The sultry, 40 year old redhead looks great for her age and doesn't mind flaunting it. Your wife has chastised you before for staring at Rachel's legs. If your wife only knew half of what you and Rachel had done together on all those lonely nights on the campaign trail, she would never forgive you.

A newcomer to the administration is Brenda, the sexy brunette new legislative aide that your chief of staff hired. You dreamed about Brenda's perfect 38C breasts for weeks before finally making a move on her. When you and the 26 year old brunette finally slipped away together one discrete March afternoon, you cursed yourself for not doing it sooner.

Then there was Megan. You realize that after what happened with your old law-school buddy Bill Clinton that doing a White House intern may be cliché (not to mention dangerous to your political career), but you decided that Megan was worth any trouble that the affair might get you into. You have been absolutely mesmerized by the 23 year old blonde. Your cock starts to stir as you think about the girl and her perky little breasts.

What are you in the mood for, Mr. President? Blonde, brunette or redhead?

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