The pale, greasy meat-flesh of of his engorged face began to bloat. Heavy streams of yellowed sweat poured down from his scalp; running the rouge and the pancake makeup and the lipstick he’d spent so long carefully applying with his own, withered baby fingers. The swollen flesh-lips began to tremble and foul sweat pooled around their sumptuous form.
“President Ted, fuck me with that raw mound of inflamed hamburger. Fill me with the tepid mayonnaise of your loins while I suck your rotted green teeth and lick the thick creamy film off your gums”
Her panties became heavy and wet, and clung to her under the weak caress of his ruined hand.
“Even now, with my orifices oozing in anticipation, I can feel the power. I feel it welling up under my skin, and escaping in bursts of erotic flatulence; escaping from my ass and the hole of my dink, and from behind eyes. I belch and I can taste it like the sweet relish of vomit in the back of my throat. Ellen, I like that when I stare into the mirror, like when I’m taking a shit, I cannot feel the spark of recognition in my eyes. When I lie in the President’s Bed I realize that I hate everyone in the world. You, me, my sons, it doesn’t make a FUCKIN’ difference.”
Ellen could feel his enormous meat swelling under his JNCOs. “All Star” by the Smash Mouth began to play on the President’s Jukebox and the Fuckin’ Big Flag was blowing in the festering heat of their foul passion. Standing there with the tears in his eyes and the smeared makeup, he reminded her of a young John Wayne.
“Ewwen pweeze unlatch baby’s diapee. Baby made a mess and his dink is getting awl dirty.”
He knew how to press her buttons. She tore away his jeans and diaper to reveal her prize, in it’s magnificence. His beige, fleshy penis was massive, and covered in a mixture of precum and oily anal discharge, not quite diarrhea. She set about licking it clean and discovered, to her delight, a sort of smegma armor encasing his manhood.
“My president, a girl could get used to this!”
She went to work savoring the base and middle of his gnarled shaft while she stroked the considerable excess length. The fishy aroma and cheesy unctuousness of his smegma was intoxicating. She sprang up and kissed him deep, swapping thick chunks of his treasure while she furiously stroked him, massaging it into the scarred flesh of his dink.