This week we are delighted to present a story from guest blogger W. Charlton Gibson! If you have a story suggestion or want to submit your own, contact us here.
Vote Her Suppression
By: W. Charlton Gibson
Lance stood in his office, staring out the window into the vast expanse of flat land and strip malls, rubbing his chin, deep in thought. He barely noticed the door across the room open and the presence of Marilyn until the sweet, powdery smell of her perfume aroused his senses.
“Daydreaming?” she asked softly with a slight Southern lilt to her speech.
“No, no. Thinking. Thinking hard about what we can do to counter this menace,” he said forcefully as he pushed the wire frames of his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
Lance picked up a pen with the name of his organization, the Foundation for God, Guns, Freedom and the Defense of Real America, running the full-length along its side.
He clicked the top of the pen in rapid succession. In and out. In and out. Hard and fast.
Marilyn eyed him with a sense of awe and longing, running her tongue softly along her pink lips. Her pussy was already wet with anticipation.
Lance’s dark navy suit was slumping from his broad shoulders and the red power tie with white stripes was nestling comfortably on his ample stomach. She didn’t mind. It was a sign of success, she thought, and her daddy had a similar paunch.
“You’re so tense,” she said. “Really, there shouldn’t be any worry. We’ve got our troops all lined up for election day.”
“It’s not our people I’m worried about,” he said, placing the pen on the desk and again turning to the window and the glowing signage from the Rally’s drive thru outside as dusk began to settle.
“There are so many bad people out there. Using the names of dead people to vote. The damn unions,” Lance said, turning toward Marilyn. “Did you know that there have been reports of large black man at polling stations, intimidating hard-working Americans who don’t want to vote for their liberal candidate? It’s disgusting. That’s not my America!”
Marilyn bit the side of her thin lower lip, took a deep breath, and settled into the ultra-plush, microfiber, teal couch. She loved it when Lance got angry. Despite his doughy physique, his passion about voter fraud was enough to make her swoon and get a little wet.
“Come sit down. You need to relax a little,” she said.
Lance moved slowly toward the couch, pretending he didn’t know what she wanted, pretending that he didn’t know what would happen next. He was becoming aroused.
Lance sat at the end of the couch, leaning against the end pillows, leaving just enough space to let her make the first move.
“Do you remember how we met?,” Marilyn asked.
“We were in Florida in 2000, examining the ballots,” she said, her tongue tracing over the part of her lip she had been biting. “Dangling chad after dangling chad.”
“The good fight!” said Lance, getting rather excited. “Fighting against a scourge tearing at our nation’s fabric.”
Marilyn smiled. “Right. I started to tire, just felt like giving up. But there you were, telling me what it meant for America. How it was my duty. You were so strong, so forceful. I just couldn’t …”
Marilyn lunged at Lance. She grabbed the shoulder pads on his suit coat as she pulled him toward her and forced him into a hard, long kiss. They breathed heavy through their noses, neither wanting to pull away, as their lips relaxed and they slowly slid their tongues back and forth together. Marilyn pulled at his tie, as her right hand made its way toward his belt buckle.
“Is the door locked?,” she whispered in his ear.
“Yes. But I don’t think we should …” His voice trailed as his cock swelled. That twang in her voice. That perfume. Voter fraud. He tried to fight it.
“I mean, I just recently separated. I’m not sure God would …”
Marilyn interrupted him. “Darling, you’re not hers anymore. The moment she yanked that lever for HIM, it was over.”
Lance was angered and aroused. He stood up, his erection visibly pushing the fabric of his wool-rayon blend trousers away from his body as he turned and faced her.
“By God, we can’t let it happen again,” he said, his voice rising. “We can’t let them steal our country.”
Marilyn’s heart pounded. She was dizzy with desire, her blood pressure rising as she fumbled with his belt buckle. He reached down and fingered her Open Hearts Collection necklace, moving slowly on to her blouse. He caressed her breasts, feeling her nipples spring to attention.
Lance undid the buttons on her blouse as he kissed the top of her head. “Such a nice girl,” he thought. “A real patriot,” as he reached around her back, struggling to undo her bra. She helped, and within moments her breasts spilled from her blouse. Lance grabbed each one with his hands, slowly massaging Marilyn’s nipples.
Marilyn pulled the gold buckle of his black leather belt open, quickly unfastened his trousers, and pulled at his zipper with great urgency.
“Slow down,” he said, worrying that it would be over a little too quickly. He thought about the Kansas City Royals.
“Come on, Lance. Tell me again where it went wrong,” Marilyn beseeched as she yanked at the waistband of his bright white briefs. She gave a tug, pulling them down to reveal his cock, standing at full attention.
“It, it …” Lance fought to find words as Marilyn plunged his rigid rod into her soft, warm mouth. “1870!,” he blurted out.
“Oh God. Oh God …”
Marilyn ran her tongue languidly up and down his shaft. “Tell me, Lance. Tell me.”
His heart pounded, his head swam as he tried to collect his thoughts. He regained momentary clarity as Marilyn softly caressed the staff of his cock and kissed the head.
“We should never have allowed them to vote,” he said, his anger swelling in perfect harmony with his engorged penis. “Then May 19, 1919. Goddamn suffrage. Another arrow in our nation’s heart.”
“Lance, please don’t use the Lord’s name in vain,” Marilyn pleaded, temporarily pulling away from his manhood.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, pulling her head back closer to his cock. “I get so worked up. I just want what’s best for Am.. ahhhhhh…”
Marilyn rammed his cock deep into her mouth and groaned with delight. She reached down with her left hand, pushed aside her pink panties, and began to stroke her clitoris — her hand taking on the sweet, slippery nectar as she rubbed faster and faster. She stroked Lance’s cock faster and faster with her right hand.
“The women, they’re far too … too … Oh, God,” Lance cried out as he felt the cum rush through his cock and into Marilyn’s mouth. She swallowed hard.
“Emotional!” Lance blurted out as he finished his thought and his orgasm.
Marilyn pulled her hand away from her moist muff and pulled Lance down on the couch. Their hearts still racing. They lay still and silent.
Marilyn placed her head on Lance’s chest as she continued to slowly stroke his semi-erect cock. She wondered how long it would take to get him hard again.
She gently stroked him, kissed his neck, and whispered in his ear, “Tell me about the union thugs and big black men again.”