“You shall be my weapon against The Trump,” Hillary said as she stroked Elizabeth’s bumpy skull through her elderly lesbian hair. “You will destroy him for me.”
“Yes, Mistress. I will destroy him for you.”
Hillary pressed Elizabeth to her black-nippled teat. Veins pulsed right under the skin.
“Suckle on my hate. Grow powerful,” Hillary said. She rammed her breast into Elizabeth’s mouth and squeezed out clotted milk in a stuttering geyser.
Elizabeth’s fingers slid into the dry canal of Hillary’s dead cunt, shelves of desiccated pus shedding, falling to the floor. She worked spiked nub of her clitoris until her thumb bled.
“Will it be enough?” the goiter on Hillary’s neck asked in an excited whisper.
“I don’t know. This chittering twat is almost as used up as I am,” she whispered back. She needn’t have bothered. The sounds of Elizabeth choking and sputtering filled the campaign bus bedroom utterly.
“The Trump is powerful. He has the hair and the hat,” the goiter said.
“I don’t fuck give a fuck about the goddamn hat! The hat is nothing! NOTHING!” she screamed. She cuffed Elizabeth on the ear in sent her reeling, rancid hillarymilk dribbling from her lip.
‘What did I do?” Elizabeth whined. She wrapped her arms around her head and face, bingo wings queasily flubbering.
“I’m going to fill you up, bitch,” Hillary said. She stomped Elizabeth in the ribs right below the breasts. As she moved to hold her chest, Hillary palpitated one last stubborn gob of milk right into her mewling mouth.
“Whose cunt is more powerful than mine?” Hillary demanded.
“No one's,” Elizabeth managed, choking.
“Wash it down,” Hillary said as she squatted over Elizabeth and let loose a stream of urine teeming with hormones.
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