"Your skin is so dark on mine," Melinda whispered to Barry.
"You're not the first old white woman I have been with, but you are the whitest, girl," Barry cooed, his face buried in the brittle nest of her hair. "Your eyes are like a sled dog. I want to fuck you running on the tundra."
"Oh, Mr. President. You are so articulate," she whispered.
"Better fucking know it, bitch." Barry pull away from her and spit in his hand. "I'm gonna get your old pussy wet, and I'm gonna fuck it 'til it tears." He began to massage the white mess between her pallid thighs.
"I want your cock inside me, Mr. President!"
"Yeah, you keep calling me that. I'm gonna fuck you good girl. Hold on, though."
Barry reached over to his bedside table and pulled out a little box. He deftly rolled a joint while Melinda watched in horror.
"Mr. President! You smoke the demon weed?!?"
"Yeah, baby. Everybody does it. You wanna hit?"
"No, sir! I'm shocked that you would even ask. I've overseen so many marijuana conviction under Eric."
"It ain't a crime if the President tokes it, girl. If you're not going to have any, why don't you start sucking my big old Presidential dick?"
Melinda watched him spark up the j and take a long hit before she bent to his crooked penis. Barry let the joint dangle from his lips as he used both hands to force her head down on his roach leg.
Over her gagging Barry told her, "Now this is America, Amanda."
"Muhlinduh," she said around his bent member.
"Shut up, bitch."