The door squeaked open. Pence walked into his mansion. Years of saving up had left him an amazing mansion, filled to the brim with the softest silk and the finest cuisine. He stepped into his mudroom, popped off his shoes, and removed his jacket, tossing it on his coatrack. It had been a long day at work, and he just wanted to drop into bed, read a nice book, and pass out with a beer in his hand. He had always lived a nice life. He grew up in Indiana, where he eventually got into politics. He lived in a nice home, with his wife, Karen. She loved him for all he was worth… Literally. Not his personality, not his looks, but his money. And Pence, well… He looked up. Somehow, unconsciously, he had gotten undressed and was steaming in his tub with a nice novel, leaning against the rim. A few grey hairs floated in the water, and he was involuntarily reminded about his issue with balding. He tossed the book down, not bothering to remember the page number. He’d find it later, the next time he picked it up. Karen was probably already asleep in bed with the thousand dollar sheets tucked around her shoulders. Michael was never really into women as much as the other kids at school. In high school, he was undoubtedly attractive. Hell, he still was, but he wasn’t asked out in bars as much as back then. He had some strong, broad shoulders, and a freshly-shaven beard from the night before. He reached up now, feeling the stubble, and glanced down at his reflection in the crystal clear tub. A straight jawline had aged well, along with his eyes and pristinely soft lips. He then averted his eyes deeper into the tub. A monster of a cock laid on the tile of the tub. It throbbed even when it was soft, and after he had been sufficiently satisfied the beast rose up to meet it’s next victim. Mike chuckled, remembering the time with his ‘friend with benefits’ Donny Trump. Donald, on the other hand, didn’t have an absolute beast for a peener, so he took it up the first time.
Just thinking about the past made the hog twitch, poking up out of the water. Michael looked down to his massive cock, his pubes thick enough to filter apple juice into water. He remembered the day (or rather, few days) he found that out. He had always been in touch with his kinky side, having orgies with a fake name whenever he could. His life as a political candidate had always haltered his freedom, and sometimes he couldn’t even show his face along with his massive anal cherry popper. He put his hand to the sausage now, slowly stroking up and down. He hadn’t touched himself for too long, he thought, in an effort to save up his valuable man milk. (I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this what the fuck daily) He picked up his balls, each a couple pounds heavier than any other man’s, and slowly moved his way up to the shaft. (I’m legitimately scared daily is getting hard and it’s making me uncomfortable) ‘Up and down,’ he thought, as he slowly stroked the meat shaft. ‘Up and down, just like that.’ He closed his eyes, imagining a pedophile from Louisiana. That always made him hard, as he was raped by one as a child. He thought to himself, ‘those Libtards can suck it up. It really wasn’t that bad.’ He slowly relaxed his back, sinking deeper into the bath water. His massive dong shot out of the water by a few inches, as it’s meaty beauty absorbed the tub water. He felt more relaxed than he had in a long time as a politician. Especially after the day today, being made fun of because of a fly landing on his head during a debate. It’s okay, though. He has a humiliation fetish, of course.
He slowly stroked his massive cock, eyes closed, for a couple minutes in complete silence other than the sensual moans that occasionally escaped from his mouth. He then felt something tickle his meat stick, and as he opened his eyes, he saw a fly, sitting there, spitting on his hands and looking all around the room with his beady, alien-like eyes. He was about to slap the damn thing off his dick before a memory came back into his head. In high school, he was an avid reader and remembered back to his biology class, with his hot teacher who used to flex his phat ass all around the class when he was teaching a lesson, and took a mental note of the picture he saw. Flies tasted with their hands. Coming back to the real world, he looked down at the little buddy. Although it usually took him an hour and a half of relentless pounding to even get a drop of cum, he looked down to see a white, lumpy substance stick to the urethral opening of his fifth limb. (I can’t believe I’m fucking writing this wtf am I doing) The reason, he instantly knew, was because of the fact that the fly, this little fly, was tasting the meaty, salty, tender skin of Pence’s baby-maker, and he wasn’t leaving. He liked it. Pence slowly reached his hand out, taking the fly on one finger. He slowly parted his lips, and began to passionately kiss the fly. I’m not writing anymore until my dad comes back.