"Nancy, I sincerely want to fuck the taste out of your mouth," Barack cooed as he finished sewing her labia minora together.
"Isn't that a line from a Prince song?" Kathleen asked. She was dancing on a raised platform, trying to get her pendulous breasts to swing in opposite directions.
"Shut up, bitch. You fucked up my exchange roll out. I read all about in the newspaper."
He leaned forward to whisper in Nancy's ear. "I've made you tight again, you lisping twat. Stitched you up like a wrinkled football. You like that, bitch?" He jerked on the dangling ends of the laces and Nancy groaned from inside the mouthless mask. Barry pinched the nose holes shut just long enough for her to began thrashing.
"I'm gonna fuck you two old white bitches just like Michelle fucks me," he screamed. He slapped his semi-erect penis. "Wake up, motherfucker. Wake up."
"Barry, I'm so wet for you, baby!" Kathleen yelled. She jammed two fingers into herself and then tasted them. "I'm so ready!"
"Get hard!" Barry screamed at his penis.
Hands shot up all over the press room, and Barry glared at them.
"I'm not taking any fucking questions!"