I do not own Scandal or any of its characters.
ten·sion
noun
the state of being stretched tight.
synonyms:tightness, tautness, rigidity
mental or emotional strain.
synonyms: strain, stress, pressure
It wasn't unheard of for the President of the free world to be at a gentleman's club. Since 1789, presidents had been politicking in leather club chairs surrounded by smoke and crystal tumblers of scotch. Republican President Fitzgerald Grant was a keeper of tradition.
Tonight he entered the three-story brick mansion, older than the country he ran, with the purposeful stride of a commander-in-chief. The First Lady, Olivia, had been out of the country for two weeks abroad, playing peacekeeper and charmer. As a result, the President was nearly unbearable to be around. He vibrated with the tension that seemed to be coursing through him, craving a solace and release that only the First Lady could provide.
The staccato of three sets of heels clicked down the hallway, and a sharp turn left his two secret service agents at the doorway as Fitz entered the library. Acknowledging the men at the table left Fitz with a distaste in his mouth that wouldn't disappear, even with smooth burning of the scotch. The men at the table knew the First Lady was out of the country and knew what that meant for the President's demeanor. They usually avoided meeting when she was out of town, as the full Grant wrath was likely to appear, but decisions had to be made so the meeting was called.
As Fitz prepared to leave, Senator Arnold walked out with him, saying "President Grant, I know how difficult it can be to be away from your spouse for more than a few days. I've arranged to have a little something waiting in your car. Enjoy," he said with a wink and left. As Fitz slid into the car, he was surprised to see a woman sitting opposite him. She was gorgeous, all brown skin, big lips, and curves for days. "Mr. President," she said, low and seductive as the car began to move. "I'm Nora." She paused, looking him up and down from lowered lashes. "I understand you've been tense, really tense lately, since the First Lady has been gone. It's not good for the country for you to be so...how shall we say it…" as she bit her lip, "...frustrated," she nearly moaned.
Fitz was awestruck at the audacity of the woman opposite him, but her beauty soon turned his disbelief into something more tangible. His pants seemed to become tighter as he watched her sensually lick her lips, and he managed to sputter out, "I'm married. This can't happen." She moved to sit to his left, one hand going behind his head, fingers caressing the soft hair as his neck, the other placed over the bulge in his trousers. "I think it can happen. Your hard cock in my hand thinks it can, too," she said into his ear as she licked the rim. "You're so tense, let me relax you," as her hand continued to stroke him.
Breath coming too fast, his head spinning, Fitz was having a hard time keeping his control. And then she moved away from him, removing the trench she was wearing revealing nothing but a white thong underneath. She sat on his lap, facing away from him, the tight curves of her ass against his cock, her head against his shoulder. She began to move, gyrate in small circles, grinding herself against him. She took his hands and moved them to her breasts, squeezing them causing them both to moan. He was gone. Two weeks was too long and this gorgeous creature in front of him offered him the release and relief he needed. He put his hands on her hips and began to thrust with her.
"No, no no," she said, grabbing his hands with hers removing them from her hips, and turning to kneel between his legs. "No moving. Just sit here and help me get these off." As she undid his buckle, he removed his suit jacket. They stared at one another, the tension in the car rising, as together they removed the remainder of his clothing.
His cock, hard and nearly purple begged for her attention. He couldn't keep from looking at her plump lips wondering if she would, just even for a second, put them where he wanted them. She smiled up at him, whispering, "not yet," knowing what he was thinking. She sucked her thumb into her mouth, leaving a trail of spit as she rubbed her thumb over the head of his cock. Fitz let out a groan, wanting more from her than this teasing, as his head fell back and eyes slammed shut.
"Mr. President, do you want to watch while I make you come?" she asked. His head came down and eyes snapped back open, darkening at her words. Unable to speak, he nodded and watched as she took her fingers, dipping them inside herself, coating them in her juices. She pulled them out and wrapped them around his shaft. A half groan/half yell came from deep in his chest, the end to the torturous weeks spent without release seeming so near.
As she fisted him up and down with her wet fingers, her other hand made its way back to her pussy to repeat the motion. Palming his sack, running her thumb down the vein in his cock, he watched as she licked her lips, putting them to the head and sucking gently, lapping up the moisture that pooled.
His hands flew into her hair, as his head rested on the seatback and her warm, wet mouth engulfed him. She varied her rhythm with small licks and kisses mixed with frantic sucking and bobbing, the combination of her juices and saliva creating a warm, humid heaven. Her mouth felt good, ohsogoodrightthere, but when he began to thrust in her mouth, she pulled away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, small smile on her swollen lips.
She turned around and resumed her position on his lap, facing away from him. His hands were placed back on her breasts, rolling dark nipples between his thumb and forefinger. "Please," he said, as his cock slid between her thighs, her wetness coating them both. She turned her head, sucking his neck, as her hips slowed, torturing him even further. "I have to touch you," he said, "you're so fucking wet, I have to touch you." His hands traveled south, until they were at the sides of her dripping thong. He pulled the scrap of silk, until it was nearly painful against her clit. "Oh god," she exclaimed, as she bucked between the taut fabric and his erection behind her.
He pulled her panties down her legs, as he moved her legs on either side of him. As the cool air hit her pussy, she gasped, but soon his hands replaced the material that had been so pleasurably, painfully pulled against her moments before. Fingers moved against her clit, delving into her as she rocked back against him. He sucked on her neck, like she had sucked on his minutes before, leaving a mark. "So good, so fucking good," he mumbled against her.
Her goal tonight had been about him, to give him release, and here the leader of the free world had her spread-eagle in the Presidential limo, fingers inside and stroking around her, as he brought her relief. As her walls clamped around him, he angled her so his cock could slip inside. Her aftershocks nearly brought him to finish, but it had been two weeks since he'd been inside a woman, and he wasn't about to waste the opportunity.
He moved her hips, not giving her the opportunity to adjust to him, as he thrust into her. She leaned forward, hands on his knees, as his gaze slipped down to her ass, bouncing up and down on his cock. His look primal, he drove into her again and again. "Faster, harder, more more more," she screamed, as he groaned behind her and he gasped "Livvie" as he came hard inside her.
His clothing back on, her trench belted, they sat side-by-side in the limo as the sights of DC flashed by outside the windows. "How did you get back to early?" he asked, kissing the top of her head, his arm around her resting on the curve of her ass. "I missed my husband," she replied, "and a little bird may have told me that he was being pretty difficult. I thought I'd surprise you," she said with a soft kiss to his jaw.
She smiled as her gaze fell to a gift bag on the opposite seat. "What's that?" she asked, grabbing the bag for him to open." Fitz opened the gift and began laughing, "Senator Arnold mentioned leaving something in the car to help me get a little relief," as he showed her the tiny Zen gardening kit. He pulled out a small, delicate rake the size of a finger that went with the sand. "I think we can come up with some ways to put this to good use," he said and winked, as she settled back into his arms for the rest of the ride home.