“Suck my nuts, you little faggot,” Michelle grunted. Her dick popped out of his mouth like a champagne cork. “The seam, work the seam!” she growled. She balled up a fist and punched the anal plug as hard she could. Barry screamed until he began coughing and hot phlegm splattered her bulbous scrotum.
“Roll over, cunt,” she told him. She was sick of his slack ballsack and useless worm of a penis in her face. She wanted to pinch it off like deadhead a flower. She wanted to feed it to the dog in front of those two little mewling shits they hired to play their daughters. She saw the tall one hugging Barry in the residence the other day. Barry didn’t get hugs unless it was Michelle crushing him between her rock hard implants.
She straddled his neck, crushing his tiny head between her muscular thighs. She began to beat him, wielding her fuckball bat like a club, the dull slapping of it echoing through the Camp David fallout shelter.
“Open your mouth!” she screamed. She reached back to twist his remaining testicle and then yank it forward. When Barry cried out she rammed her thick meat into his bloodied mouth and choked off his sobbing.
Michelle glared down at him. “I wish I could fuck all the teeth out of your head. Why did you get to be president and not me?” She thrust at the end of the question so forcefully that Berry’s eyes bugged out of his head. His arms began to flail.
“I’ll tell you why. America isn’t ready for a strong woman in the White House. They fear our power.” She ran her blunt fingers through her thick patch of chest hair. “I’m just too beautiful and powerful to rule them like I should.” Tears ran down Barry’s face as he tried to nod in agreement.
Michelle imagined herself taking the Oath of Office on top a mountain of dead bodies, burnt and twisted from her rage. She thrust deeper and deeper, Barry struggling under her now, unable to breathe.
When she came it burrowed into him like a white-hot drill bit.