A gay adult story: Cumming up Trumps Part 5 by Fisher King ,
Trump desperate to see his woman again hunts her down
Trump paced a circle around the Oval Office it was 6:00am and he had managed a half hour snooze on the way back to the White House. He was used to getting little to no sleep, when he was on the campaign trail there were weeks where he survived on as little as ten hours sleep. He was awaiting the morning briefing from his Chief of Staff, Alan Saltmayor. This usually happened at 5:00am but Alan was used to pushing it back.
Alan was in his office putting together the days agenda. There wasn’t a huge amount pressing but tensions in Syria were mounting. The recent insurgent uprising meant that there was pressure on the US to send ground troops into the region to support the UN peace keeping forces already there. Alan had been with Trump for 20 years, supporting his business dealings and helping him out of numerous scrapes. But something was different this time, the last time he had been this obsessed with Corrine from Denver.
Alan was actually quite jealous when he had heard all of the sordid details of Trump’s dirty dealings with Corrine on a drunken night in Cleveland. She was a fine, slender, black woman, with long dark hair. She had legs up to her armpits which were silky smooth, she wore glasses during the day which emphasised her secretarial sexiness. She walked into Trump’s campaign office with a swish of her booty, she wore a short-skirted business suit which Alan found incredibly attractive but it was Trump she wanted. She put her hand on Alan’s desk and demanded an audience with the candidate. What followed Alan only had Trump’s word for and that night replayed again in Alan’s mind.
Trump gave his account as he and Alan sat in a bar in Cleveland after a hard week of campaigning.
“What happened that afternoon in Denver boss?” Questioned Alan.
“Haha Alan, I knew you had a thing for that fine assed black woman.” Snorted Trump.
“Do you really want all the details?”
“Well, yes and no at the same time boss, just tell me.” Alan went on.
“She glided into my office,” replied Trump, with a knowing look in his eye, “and I knew at that moment that she wanted something from me. She asked for cash to help with some homeless charity in downtown Denver. Well you know what my response would have been to that Alan, right? But before I could say anything she took me by surprise. She gave a wriggle and slipped her panties down to her ankles.”
“Fuck off!” Alan retorted.
“Honestly Alan. She then walked over to my desk bent over and whispered, ‘from behind sir!’ Obviously I shot up and stood behind this gorgeous woman, dropped my pants to the floor and unleashed him. No chance of me wrapping up at this point so I attempted to slide it up her bum. Do you want to know her response?” Trump let the words hang in the air for a second, building the suspense.
“Put it in the front one! Can you believe that? So I slammed it in pumping away, slapping that fine ass, hearing her moan just made me slam it in harder. I pulled right out and slammed it right in over and over again. I loved how tight she felt around my cock. I’m not big by any means Alan, you know that, but her pussy was so incredibly tight. And her smell Alan, fuck I could smell her on my dick for weeks after. Then I just blew my load in her. I didn’t even warn her I was cumming, just blew right inside her. Then I bent over her back and said, ‘the cheque’s in the post sweetheart.’ Pulled out, wiped up and told her I was keeping her panties. Then she just strode out of there like nothing had happened!”
Trump reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of lacey black panties and stuck them under Alan’s nose.
“Have that Alan, you can still smell her!”
Alan grabbed them, stuffed them in his pocket, downed his drink and left.
“You’re disgusting Donald.” He called back as he left.
As soon as he was back in his hotel room he had those very panties wrapped around his shaft as he tugged away at it, vividly imagining himself smashing Corrine’s back door in. Alan blew his load within minutes. It wasn’t the first time he had masterbated whilst thinking of Corrine but having her panties made him cum extra hard and fast. He ensured that he didn’t cum on them, he knew he would be using them again.
Alan’s eyes returned to the agenda for the day. Whoever this woman was Alan knew he needed to make sure he found out as much as possible before Trump became even more infatuated with her.
********************************************
Manning had arrived back at her hotel just after 6:30am. She had stopped at a shop and bought a four pack of Red Bull and some Pro Plus caffeine pills to keep her awake.
She loved the taste of Taurine and the way her heart pounded after downing a can. She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray before being let into the hotel by the doorman. She fist bumped him on the way through.
“Cheers Jermaine, have a good day son,” she said cheerily.
As she strode towards the lift She noticed a few of the cricket team were sitting in the lobby.
“Hey Alexei what did you get up to last night?” One of the girls called over.
“Bertie Bassetts,” replied Manning. “You know, all sorts,” she clarified, still leaving her audience bewildered.
She didn’t have long until the coach left, but she knew she needed a quick shower and change. She liked to be fresh and she knew her cock would stink after fucking Krystal.
She burst into the room she was sharing with Lydia and stripped off to her underwear and shut the bathroom door.
“You need to be quick,” Lydia said, with genuine concern for her room mate. “We leave in ten minutes, where have you been?”
“A lady never kisses and tells,” Manning replied in her poshest accent.
“But I ain’t no lady you know that only too well Lyds, if only the old boy could speak, the stories he’d tell…”
With that Manning flopped her semi-erect dick out of her tracksuit bottoms.
“Piss off Alexei, you know me, I’m all about the snatch.”
Lydia got up and stomped out the room, slamming the door behind her. Manning begrudgingly admitted she had lost this bout but she was never shy of a challenge, ‘I’ll turn her soon’ she thought to herself.
She realised that time was short and the team coach was unlikely to wait for her downstairs. Manning flew into the en suite but as she did her mind wandered to what she wanted to do with her room mate. Within moments her cock was throbbing yet again, she lit a B&H Gold to try and calm her urges but it was useless. Almost subconsciously she found herself stroking her member, feeling it harden up in her hand. She knew time was short but at this point she couldn’t leave the hotel without tugging herself off.
She was wanking against the clock and she knew it, it was making things more difficult, the pressure was unbearable. Her knees weakened and she felt her right elbow start to lock up as she furiously hammered away at her cock hoping for a response. Finally she got the return she was hoping for as a dribble of spunk emerged from the end of her piece.
It had been a tough 12 hours for her huge dick and her stores were almost dry. With the real business taken care of Manning took a huge squeeze of her Lynx Africa shower gel and leapt into the shower cubicle. Manning knew she only had moments before the bus would leave so needs must. A quick splash over the entirety of her body was all she could manage and she threw her tracksuit back on after barely drying herself. She threw on her Lonsdale trainers but was unable to do up the Velcro before rushing out of the room and down to the reception.
She was relieved to see the team coach still sat just outside reception, she raced through the revolving doors and onboard.
“Right on time drives,” she called to the driver as she slumped into her seat right at the front, next to the microphone.
“If there’s grass in the wicket, let’s play cricket, hey drives?”
The American driver looked baffled as he pulled out of the hotel drive. ‘God I hope she doesn’t talk the whole way’ he thought to himself.
*********************************
Trump and his Chief of Staff Alan Saltmayor had been running through the issues of the day but it was clear to Alan that Trump’s head lay elsewhere, he wasn’t his usual bullish self. He offered little to no comment, even when Alan informed him that the wall between the US and Mexico would be delayed. Apparently 1500 Americans had chained themselves to the iron rods which had been installed to support the wall.
With just one item covered Alan stopped.
“What the hell is wrong with you Mr President?” He said angrily.
“What me? Nothing Alan you carry on, what’s next? A new income tax rate right?” Trump feigned interest but he couldn’t fool Saltmayor.
“Jesus Sir, I haven’t seen you like this in years. Firstly the next issue is the renewable energy conference nothing to do with income tax and secondly it’s a woman isn’t it? That one you had here yesterday”.
Trump let out a huff.
“You’re right Alan, you always are. This woman is driving me insane, I need to see her today. Can you find out where she will be?”
“If it will get you back on track Mr. President then I reckon I can get that organised,” replied Alan.
“Right we are done here then Alan. Margaret, cancel all appointments this morning I have urgent meetings to attend and put Airforce One on alert we might have to get to the border.”
Alan slumped in his chair. Was he really having to hunt down this mysterious woman just so that Trump would focus on matters in hand? It felt like something off the TV.
Not that it mattered the American public, they were completely smitten by their new President. Alan was beginning to think that he could ride any storm and still emerge victorious.
He had forgotten to ask the name of Trump’s mystery woman but did not want to risk his wrath of by asking again. Alan knew that this damn cricket team were here on a tour, he had seen the adverts on NBC. He was no cricket fan but had a vague recollection of an exhibition match and was sure that someone had mentioned that it was today. All he had to do was find out the location and then Trump would do the rest.
*************************************
Cricket had never caught on in the Americas and the US was no different in that regard. It was considered too slow and boring for the American public. Manning found that notion absurd given the popularity that baseball enjoyed throughout the continent.
The International Cricket Council along with all of the worlds leading teams were making a real concerted effort to push the sport to the potentially lucrative American marketplace, which is why Manning and her team found themselves playing a match on a hastily converted baseball ground on the edge of Washington. The England women’s cricket team was one of the best in the world and they were taking on an all-star team made up of the best players that North America had to offer in a twenty over match.
Manning bounced around the boundary’s edge as England won the toss and batted first. They amassed a score of 66 for 7 in their 20 overs. A mammoth effort by women’s standards. One of the England players was delighted to have managed a score of 15, whilst extras dominated the card with 25.
With Manning’s body now too brittle to play she watched on from the sidelines. She was like a badly controlled Tourette’s sufferer when she came to the matches, such was her passion for the game.
“Mug,” she’d shout at regular intervals, normally as another misfield unfolded before her eyes.
“What a cunt!” She splurted out as another wicket fell.
Manning knew England would win the game, it was unheard of for a women’s team to get more than 60 runs in a twenty over match but she also knew that if only her body would stand up to the task she could be starring in the middle.
Sure enough the North American All Stars innings subsided away, they were eventually bowled out for a credible 38. In their wildest dreams they hadn’t expected to make such a competitive total.
The women clapped each other off and the crowd of around 150 joyfully cheered. Manning, done with prowling the outfield, had left her wallet in her kit bag and had to go back to the locker room to fetch it.
She knew it was time to have the post match food and drink, it was usual for all of the girls to get together and talk about how the game had gone. Manning enjoyed telling everyone what they could have done better and relished the drinking that followed even more.
She slipped into the locker room, passing a number of her team mates on route.
“See you all in a minute,” she called, “fucking left me wallet in me bag didn’t I?”
The steam from the showers clouded Manning’s Oakleys so she placed them on top of her head as she rummaged around her Kappa holdall. She could have sworn she heard something, no, it couldn’t be, could it? There is was again, a moan of enjoyment.
Manning peered around the large locker which was blocking her view into the shower and there were two naked women, Lydia and the captain of the side May Young.
May was a slender woman of Chinese descent, her small breasts were beautifully round and she was pressed up against Lydia, Manning’s room mate. She was kissing her neck and her hands were running all over Lydia’s body making their way gently over her breasts, tweaking her nippples as she went. Manning felt her cock twitch, she had been with girls before but had never had two, could this be her chance?
May continued to kiss Lydia, with Lydia arching her back slightly with each touch. May slid her hand downwards brushing over Lydia’s closely trimmed pubic hair. She slid down to her thigh and then gently inched upwards. Lydia brought her hand down to meet May and together their hands felt their way to Lydia’s wet vagina.
Manning let out a moan of enjoyment and for a brief second Lydia looked over but she didn’t want anything to ruin this moment. May slid her fingers into Lydia parting her wet lips and feeling deep inside.
Lydia gasped as she felt May’s fingers inside her. May moved faster now and with the increase in tempo Manning could resist no longer, she pulled down her tracksuit bottoms and whipped out her old boy.
“Alright ladies room for a little one with a massive dick?” She offered as she made her way toward the shower.
“Fuck off Alexei,” an agitated Lydia shouted in reply.
“Fuck, I was about to cum and you’ve fucking ruined it. Jesus how many times have I got to tell you it’s only pussy I want. I don’t want your cock anywhere near me. If you had a pussy I’d lick it all day long, but you haven’t so fuck off because I got this little cunt right here to eat. Before you ask no you can’t watch!”.
Manning’s cock became limp, horny as she was she knew when she wasn’t wanted and she didn’t want to waste anymore time where she wasn’t getting any. She put back on her boxers and tracksuit bottoms making sure she had her wallet.
She needed a drink so she made her way to the exit. Before she left she had one last look around and saw Lydia’s head buried deep between May’s legs. No doubt her tongue was driving deep between her lips. ‘Fuck,’ Alexei thought to herself, ‘I’ll have both of them one day. No one says no to me and the old boy forever!’
Fresh from the locker room rejection Manning slipped away and into the bar. A wave of depression fell over her as she thought about what might have been. If she could not have what she wanted she was sure as hell going to make sure she drowned her sorrows. She approached the bar, barrelling aside several punters that were already patiently waiting.
“Five VK Apples please sport.” Manning did not wait to be asked for her order.
“Sorry?” The nearest member of bar staff was clearly shocked by what was happening.
“Five VK Apples please, don’t hang around fella, I’ve got a plane to catch at the end of next week.”
“But, there’s,” the barman stammered over his words slightly as he tried to offer a reposte.
“But, there’s…” Manning sarcastically mimicked the barman’s response, “there’s fucking what? Just getting me the sodding VKs pal, I’m gasping here.”
The barman decided it was more trouble than it was worth to insist that Manning joined the back of the queue and guessed that there were few in that queue who would be prepared to make an issue of it.
“I’m sorry I have literally never heard of VK Apple,” he had recovered his composure but was aware that the news was unlikely to go down well.
Manning’s face contorted as she surveyed the line of fridges behind the barman.
“No fucking VKs, that’s two bob that, what sort of operation is this?!?!” Manning felt the anger rise in her, failing to realise that it was quite common for familiar British brands not to be available in the US.
She scanned the fridges furiously before spotting a row of Hooch’s.
“Fuck me bar keep, I haven’t seen Hooch in time, I’ll take five.”
The bar man quickly readied five Hooch’s and placed them on the bar. Much to his surprise, the woman in front of him drained three of them before he had entered the transaction into the till. She left $30 dollars on the bar and stomped off with the remaining bottles, one in each hand.
Manning had eyed the fruit machine as soon as she had got into the bar and was hopeful that a jackpot win would lighten her mood. One frustrated drinker was just finishing up as Manning arrived on the scene. Shaking his head, he span away from the machine whilst muttering, ‘it’s a fix,’ repeatedly under his breath.
“You needed to hold the bells you useless prick.”
Manning offered some sage advice as she shouldered him aside, before he had a chance to properly clear the area.
******************************************
Where the hell would Saltmayor start his search for a match that he cared nothing about? He called Margaret, he was sure she had been involved with bringing the team to the White House in the first place. Before chatting with Margaret he silently cursed her, if this bloody team hadn’t have been here in the first place, none of this would be happening.
Margaret passed on the phone number of the media manager of the team and within moments he was leaving a message on her phone.
“Hi, this is Alan Saltmayor, Chief of Staff to the President. Mr. Trump really enjoyed meeting the team at the White House and wanted to learn more about the sport.” Alan was thinking on his feet, he could hardly say that the President was keen to fuck the strange woman in the Oakleys! He went on.
“We understand you are playing in an exhibition match today and wanted to come along, could you come back to me to confirm the details?”
Alan sat down heavily, it was now a waiting game. As time passed he took to Twitter and the web to try and find out about the match. There were some patchy information but nothing conclusive.
The phone on his desk went, he could see it was Trump.
“Any news?” His boss sounded desperate.
“Nothing yet sir, I am on it though. I’m doing all I can.” Saltmayor really was doing his best, but he knew he had limited leads.
“Keep me posted, make this your top priority please!”
“Will do boss.” Saltmayor placed down his desk phone, as he did his mobile started to vibrate, he answered it without hesitation.
“Yes?”
“Is this Mr. Saltmayor?” A slightly unsure voice was on the end of the line.
“Speaking.”
“It’s Faye Salgado here, with the England’s woman’s cricket team. We understand you and the President are keen to come along to the match today.”
‘Keen?’ No chance Alan thought to himself, but he had a job to do.
“Absolutely, the President really enjoyed meeting the team and wants to learn a bit more about the sport.”
The call went on with Saltmayor scribbling down the details of the fixture that was being played at a baseball stadium on the edge of the city. Time was short though, the match was already underway and the stadium was some distance away. He organised a car and patched himself through to Trump.
“Sir, I’ve got it, the car will be outside in two minutes.”
Trump felt his excitement inflate, it was on. He raced out of the office and bundled into the back of the car. The journey seemed to take forever, would they ever get there?
Eventually they turned a corner and an old baseball stadium appeared, but they could also see a small crowd dispersing.
“Fuck!!” Trump screamed at the top of his voice.
“We’ve sodding missed it.”
Saltmayor turned to him.
“We’ll see sir, if the match has only just finished there’s a chance.”
Trump knew his trusty advisor was right and frankly he was willing to try anything, his balls were ready to burst, he had to see Manning.
After his security bods had done a quick sweep Trump was whisked into the stadium and through to the bar. Again his security team went ahead with Trump following at close quarters.
********************************************
Manning wasn’t having much luck on the fruity and her patience was starting to wear thin. As she poured dollars into the machine she felt her anger climbing again, she thudded her fist into the machine as she went ‘higher than a 3’ and a 2 rolled in.
Manning shuffled to the side of the machine and leaned a heavy shoulder into it. The next thing she knew, three guys in dark suits swept into the bar.
“Fuck me, I only nudged the machine, this is a bit heavy handed! I used to do this all the time down The Grove.”
Manning panicked, were fruit machines really this carefully monitored in America? Much to Manning’s relief the men didn’t seem all that interested in her or what she was up to.
She took a couple of large gulps of Hooch to calm her down and got back to the job in hand, emptying the contents of her pockets into the machine. As she did that she turned to see a flustered looking Trump shimmy through the door.
As soon as Trump got through the door he saw Manning, she was on the fruit machine, but she looked as interesting as she always had to him. There was no doubt to him that he had to have her again and this time they had to fuck.
Trump was almost at the point of a jog as he crossed the bar. Most of the drinkers in the bar had been sent on their way by his security team but those that had slipped through the net gawped in wonder at what was unfolding in front of them. Was the President of the USA really jogging across a bar at an old baseball stadium on the edge of Washington?
Manning turned her head as Trump approached.
“Alright chuck? What are you doing here then?”
“I came to find you of course.” Trump had told himself to play it cool but he was struggling to do so in the circumstances.
“Fair dos.” Manning’s response sounded positive but Trump was unsure what would happen next.
An awkward silence followed, before Manning continued.
“Well I’ve ploughed about $40 dollars into the fruit and I’ve got a bottle and a half of Hooch left so this ain’t the best time pal. If you can give me ten I reckon I could slot you in.”
Manning meant nothing by the double-entendre but as she said it her cock started to respond.
Trump could see a familiar bulge in Manning’s tracksuit bottoms and could feel his member dancing a similar dance, he was sure it was going to happen, and soon.
The light was beginning to fade as Manning swigged the last of her Hooch.
“Come on then fella, let’s ditch these goons and find somewhere private.” Manning said in an attempt at seduction.
In truth there was no need as Trump was keen as mustard to be alone with Manning. She took him by the hand and led him out of the bar; as they passed he gave a knowing nod to his lead security man who closed the door behind them.
“Where are you taking me?” Trump asked, feeling a little anxious for the first time.
“Don’t you worry,” replied Manning confidently, “you’ll need to keep up if you want to get your dick wet!”
She pulled him over towards the front row of the stadium, climbed over the advertising hoardings and onto the pitch. It was almost completely dark bar a few lights from the surrounding corporate boxes in which the cleaners were beavering away after the day’s action.
“Come on fella, you’re not scared of doing it in public are you?” Manning teased as they strode out across the grass.
As she strolled out onto the ground Manning stopped every now and again to practice her forward defensive stroke or cover drive. Before long she had reached the very middle of the ground; Trump vigilantly scanned their surroundings and seemed satisfied that they were not being watched. He joined her in the middle and pulled her close.
“I’ve wanted this all day,” he whispered and then kissed her deeply.
Their tongues intertwined and Trump’s hands grabbed childishly at Manning’s breasts.
“Careful,” Manning stalled; “they are all real big man, why don’t you have a suck?”
She pulled up her top and bra exposing her large nipples. Trump didn’t need any further invitation and flicked his tongue over her erect nipples much to the delight of Manning who squealed in pleasure.
“You’ve done that before,” she exclaimed as the excitement rose.
She could feel his length against her own, both of them had raging erections and a desire that no amount of touching would quench. Manning undid Trump’s trousers as he pulled off her tracksuit bottoms by the poppers, both of them fondling each other as they went.
Manning took control and with Trump eager to please he quickly gauged what she wanted, getting down on his hands and knees before planting his bum up in the air.
“You’ve never felt anything like this,” Manning said; “good job I keep this lube handy.”
She pulled out a small white tube and gleefully rubbed it all over her shaft, the world seemed to standstill for a second prior to the first penetration. Manning teased the end of her cock around the rim of Trump’s anus, before gently but forcefully, sliding it in.
“Do you love it? ‘Course you do, you’ve never been fucked like this before.”
Feeling Trump move his hips in rhythm she upped her tempo as they moved in unison. Manning’s Oakleys slipped down her nose as she settled into her swing, she had one hand on Trump’s back and the other running through her own hair. She loved anal sex, she loved the tightness of it and a virgin ass was special.
She felt a wave of euphoria swell inside, she was about to cum.
“Fuck me Trump, I’m cumming,” she exhaled breathlessly.
“Fuucccckk your tight ass, fuck what you do to me. Have that ya bastard.” She exclaimed whilst simultaneously exploding.
The eruption was just as joyous for Trump as he moaned.
“Jesus Alexei… Best. Sex. Ever.”
His body was overwhelmed, he could hardly move. Manning pulled her cock out from Trump’s anus, it had started to become flaccid but was covered in the juices of their fucking.
“You know what to do now,” she told Trump as he collapsed to the floor and rolled over to face her.
Trump opened wide as Manning squatted over his face. He devoured her semi-flaccid cock licking every last drop of her cum.
Manning was euphoric but a strange feeling fell over her as she realised she was about to be caught short.
“Shit, I need a to drain the python!”
“What?” Trump was not aware of the idiom.
“I need a fucking piss don’t I?” Manning replied, feeling almost angry.
“Do it on me then,” Trump came back, on the one hand to appease her but also having got hopelessly caught up in the moment.
Not one to wait for a second invitation Manning erupted for the second time in as many minutes. This time showering Trump’s face with her golden piss, Trump lapped it up like a cat sipping milk from its bowl.
Manning finished by slapping her cock on Trump’s mouth to ensure he had her final offerings for the night.
“Best be off, got a coach to catch. We should do this again sometime.” Manning declared, leaving a dishevelled Trump in a fetid mess.
“But, but, I don’t have your number,” Trump stuttered back.
It was too late, Manning was already halfway across the field.
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