“What?” His getting brown hair flattened with sweat. “What the fuck did I say wrong now?”
Her eyes blazed at him.
“I have my finger up the pulse of danger!”
“On the pulse, you idiot, on the pulse.” Brenda smacked her forehead. “They’re not going to vote for you if you fuck thus shit up.” Her right hand stroked his erection absently.
Zeke thought for a moment with his eyes closed. “What if I don’t want to be elected. I think…”
The absent hand went from light strokes to grabbing balls.
“You stop this thinking thing you do and leave that to me.” The words sounded cute, but she really meant it.
Zeke thinking was never good for business. He was only 25 and had the charisma to hold the big chair, one day. His intelligence, however, would have left him offering fries with that if he was not given the proper assistance…the proper guidance…the proper leash
“You just don’t worry that pretty head of yours. Let me do the thinking while I take care of the little head,” she said before leaning forward and sheathing his erection with her mouth.
“The little head,” he agreed with a giggle.
Brenda was amazed how much time she spent thinking with his cock in her mouth. Sometimes it was the only way to get him to shut up was to suck him off…and due to her own distraction of plotting his election, her skills at tasting his erection were somewhat rough.
…not that Zeke knew any better. He always knew he would marry his grade school sweetheart. He had even waited until they married and she was the only woman to have touched him sexually.
Brenda, however, was very experienced. It was well into high school before she even noticed the beefcake linebacker, Zeke Nebbs…never mind that he had thought of her as his sweetheart since he had shared his lunch with her in grade two.
As soon as they were married at nineteen she realized he would not be continuing far in football…but it was not lost on her just how well liked he was, even if he had trouble when he occasionally forgot how to tie his own shoes. People loved Zeke. They would gather to listen and take in whatever he was saying whether he made sense or not.
…and he rarely made sense.
Brenda had been able to push aside his idea to save the city rats as a joke.
He was quickly becoming the political equivalent if Arthur Carlson.
The problems, of course, came when someone had snapped pictures of Brenda at a swingers club to the press.
Oddly enough, the public had accepted her and Zeke declaring theirs as an open marriage. In fact they had accepted it much more easily than the press shots of Brenda at an atheist gathering with her transvestite lesbian lover, Samantha…or Samuel before the operation.
Brenda took a long deep mouthful of Zeke’s cock as her mind wandered to just how quickly the voting public had forgotten that one.
It seemed as though they genuinely believed that Zeke was the brains of this campaign.
The fact that Brenda thought Zeke had more brain matter in the head of his cock than above his neck, however, was never brought up as an issue. Speaking of which, she continued washing his brain with her mouth.
Lots of saliva left a trail down his shaft and the head, upon brief appearance when she released him from her lips, glistened.
Brenda got the first taste of precum on her tongue and knew it wouldn’t be king until he was post-orgasmically asleep.
Zeke, as though in demand, filled her mouth with his bitter cum…and then was out in second.
Brenda leaned back and gazed at the sleeping baboon. One thought went through her head…What would Hillary do?