Yes, Mr. President

Author's Note: This chapter contains numerous communications sent via text message. I have chosen to format these messages as italicized statements housed within brackets. I wanted it to feel like the reader is looking at a smartphone; as such, incoming text messages are aligned to the left, while outgoing text messages are indented further towards the right. I'm hoping that the formatting saved correctly when I uploaded this chapter to the site for publication.

"What's going on with you, Truett?" Tessa asked.

It had been four days since my most recent trip to the White House residence. Of course, I'd had to pull away from Tessa even more. The first two nights, I'd slept on the sofa in our living room. I'd told her that I felt like I might be coming down with a virus. It had given me the time I needed to adjust to the butt plug enough that I could be around her while wearing it without feeling freaked out all the time.

I'd also shaved off my pubes, per the President's request. I hadn't even thought about how I'd explain it. A part of me had figured that Tessa wouldn't see them since we weren't having sex. I had eventually decided that I'd tell her that I'd been advised to shave by my doctor after telling him that I was getting a rash down there.

I'd gone to play football with my buddies on Sunday. Just as I'd predicted, they'd laughed their asses off at me when they'd seen my hairless pubic mound in the showers after the game. They'd assaulted me with friendly taunts, including teasing me about going through "reverse puberty" and joking that shaving it all off doesn't help make it look bigger when "all you got is two inches." I'd told them that Tessa had asked me to do it since she didn't like getting pubes in her teeth when she blew me.

It would be understatement to say that quite a lot was going on with me, then. Nevertheless, even with a more direct confrontation with my girlfriend brewing, I chose the easy way out... again. "What do you mean?" I replied, pretending to be confused as I dried off the last newly-cleaned plate at the sink.

It was 10 p.m. and we'd just finished a late dinner. During the meal, we'd mainly talked about Tessa's work, my internship, and a wedding we were scheduled to attend in a few weeks.

"You know what I mean, Truett," she said. "What's happening with you? What's happening with... us?"

I didn't know what to tell her. I couldn't tell her the truth. It might sound insane, but I still did love her. It just felt like it wasn't in the same way that it had been the entire time we'd been together. As I'd given myself to the President, my lust for her had vanished; it made me think of older couples who stay together for friendship long after the sexual desire has died off.

"I don't know. Things are just busy at Senator Whitney's office. He's not the easiest person to work for, you know. I guess it leaves me feeling kind of out of it when I'm at home."

"I've seen you stressed out before. I remember when you had that huge Econ project due in the class where you were convinced the professor hated you. This... this is different."

I just shrugged. I didn't know what she needed to hear. I kept rubbing the dish cloth over the plate. Eventually, Tessa came over to me, pulled the plate out of my hand, and set it on the countertop. I turned around to face her.

"Just tell me."

"What?"

"That you're cheating on me. I'm not an idiot, Truett! I know that you're sneaking around behind my back with Samantha Kelley!"

"I'm not! We've only met once - for the charity event. I'm not even attracted to her."

"I'm supposed to believe that? You pull away and pull away. We used to have sex three or four times a week, if not more. All of a sudden, nothing! I can't even throw myself at you. You just say you 'have a headache' or that you 'don't feel well.' And I'm supposed to believe that it's a coincidence that you went on a date - sorry, 'escorted' the President's daughter to an event right when our relationship is falling apart?"

"You're... you're way off base, Tessa. I've only met her once. For god's sake, she lives in New York! Do you really think she's driving five hours each way to come meet up with me during my lunch breaks? That's insane!"

Tessa was clearly overwhelmed. She was shaking her head; her eyes looked tired. I didn't know what to do. I just wanted more time. I hadn't even fully wrapped my head around everything that had changed in my life. I couldn't deal with ending my long-term relationship.

"Okay," Tessa said, "if it's all in my mind... prove it to me." She stepped towards me. She wrapped her arms around my waist, planting her hands on my lower back. She looked up into my deep green eyes. She appeared to be as fragile as a porcelain doll. "Make love to me, then. I need more than words.Showme that you love me."

My stomach did a somersault. I did want to do it for her, even if I didn't feel the same sexual energy revving up my engine when I looked at her. I couldn't, though. I'd snuck away to the bathroom to insert the butt plug promptly at nine o'clock. My hole was still aching from the effort it had taken to force it inside of myself.

"I'm just... I'm too in my head right now," I said. "I don't need the pressure. I don't even think I could get into it after the day I had."

Tessa pulled away. I could see that I'd wounded her deeply.

"Tomorrow," I offered as a compromise. "How about we make a plan to do it then? I'll make it extra special - put some rose petals on the bed and buy some champagne."

I didn't say it obviously, but I was also wondering if it would allow me enough time to bum a Viagra from my friend, Tyler. He was always bragging about how they allowed him to"go all weekend," so I hoped it'd help me keep an erection. I knew that not being able to perform would be the final nail in the coffin.

"Sure," she said, turning to walk out of the room.

It was awkward after that. Tessa was already in bed reading a book when I joined her. I stripped down to my boxers and slid under the covers with her. I thought about trying to talk with her, or even nuzzling on her neck, but I didn't want to stir up a mess again. Eventually, we both fell asleep after not saying more than a few words to one another.

***************

I felt disoriented as I stirred to life. The alarm hadn't gone off, and it felt too early to wake up on my own. My vision was fuzzy; I tried to blink the sleep out of my eyes.

"What the fuck?" I heard myself yelp, seeing Tessa standing over me at the side of the bed.

"I knew!" she screeched. "You're a fucking liar and a cheater! The bitch gave you crabs! I just had to see. I knew it. I fucking knew it!"

I glanced down towards where her attention was focused - my crotch. The sheets were pulled back and my boxers were around my knees. My soft cock and denuded pubic mound were on full display. Shame surged through me.

"What the fuck?" I asked again, trying to cover myself with my hands. In a half-asleep, unthinking move of desperation, I rolled onto my belly.

"What... what isthat?" Tessa shouted.

I froze, like a possum playing dead to save his life. My heart started to smack against my ribcage.

"Do you... do you have something jammed up your asshole?"

I tried to tense my cheeks. Ironically, it made the butt plug press right against my spot. I could feel myself immediately getting harder.

"There's no way. There's no fucking way!"

I felt Tessa's nails clawing at my juicy globes. I should have tried to swat her away, but I didn't. The room filled with silence once she spread my cheeks apart enough to see the circular silver base sticking out of me.

"That's perfect," she said, letting go of her grip. "Not only are you cheating on me with the President's daughter, but she's turned you into some kinky sex freak too! I don't... I don't even know what that is. How could you wear that in bed with me sleeping next to you?"

Tessa," I said, rolling back over to hide my butt plug, "I... I can explain."

"Jesus Christ, is this a joke to you?" A look of horror was plastered on her face as she stared at my ill-timed boner. "Do you get off on humiliating me? Do you and Samantha Kelley sit around laughing about your stupid girlfriend who's too dumb to know what's really going on?"

"I... I..."

"Well, fuck you, Truett! Fuck you!"

She stormed over to the closet, then started frantically tossing on a hoodie and yoga pants. I yanked the sheets up to cover myself. I kept calling to her from the bed. I just kept repeating that she didn't understand and she needed to calm down. Moments later, she stormed out of the room. I heard the front door to the apartment slam shortly after that.

I stayed in bed for another hour. I felt paralyzed. Eventually, I sent Tessa a two-sentence text message apologizing and asking her to call me so that I could explain everything to her. I still didn't even know what I wanted to tell her, but I was certain it wouldn't be the whole truth. I knew I couldn't say anything about the President.

As the hours passed, things got worse. I started to spiral. I felt like everything in my life had turned into a giant dumpster fire. For lunch, I ate a pint of ice cream and a sleeve of Oreo cookies. I was racing towards depression in record time.

DING!

I grabbed my phone coffee table, thinking it must be Tessa.

[Go to 4857 Corcoran St, Dupont Circle. I want you there within the hour. Text me when you arrive.]

It was the President, of course.

I started to type a message back to him. I was going to tell him that things had exploded in my relationship, but then I thought about it. I imagined how the President might react if he worried Tessa was onto us. I deleted what I'd written.

I decided I could give him some other excuse, like that my parents were in town. Then, I imagined myself sitting at home alone in silence waiting for Tessa to reach out to me. Dread and sadness bubbled up in my belly.

Suddenly, I pictured myself with the President. I remembered how I'd felt when he'd kissed me for the first time the other day. It filled the void that was beginning to consume me with something better - lust gilded with excitement. I would have done anything to not have to sit with my sadness, and the President appeared to be the perfect distraction.

[Okay]

After texting the President back, I frantically stripped off my chocolate-stained T-shirt and baggy sweats. I stood in front of my closet, wondering what to wear. In the end, I pulled on my shortest pair of slit-thigh running shorts, a tank top, and a pair of sneakers. Of course, I put them on over the red lacy thong I'd been wearing each weekday - between the designated hours of 7 a.m. to 5 p.m. - since the President had given it to me.

I wanted to feel sexy. I wanted to be a good little slut for the Commander in Chief. I knew that it would allow me to not have to be myself for a few hours; instead, I would be able to focus on what I needed to be for him.

I glanced up at the nondescript box hidden on top of the medicine cabinet.Should I?I wondered. I didn't need to think it through. I lubed up and reinserted the butt plug into my increasingly elastic hole in no time at all. I tried to imagine how I'd feel seeing the President's proud smile when he saw that I had it jammed into my jock pussy even though it wasn't nighttime.

The Uber stopped in front of the address I'd told it to go to. I had to hold in a moan as I shifted to get out of the backseat of the Prius; I could feel the silver metal pressing hard against my magic spot. My cock was already alert and ready for action.

"Have a good one," the driver called out as I shut the door.

"You too."

I stared at the building. The dingy sign in the large glass window read, "Maurice's." It didn't take a rocket-scientist to realize that it was a gay bookstore. The Pride flag, display of classic queer literature, and poster advertising a charity event for "The Trevor Project" spelled it all out. It didn't look like a fancy bookstore, though. It appeared to be more run down than anywhere I'd had expected the President to visit.

How's he going to stroll into a gay bookstore anyways?I wondered. I guess he'll have to wear a disguise. Maybe a fake mustache, large sunglasses, and a bulky coat?It started to make sense why he'd chosen a place that looked like it only had a few customers trickling in and out each hour.

I'd never been to a gay bookstore before. I became curious why the President had invited me to one. I imagined him groping my ass in dark recesses of the store while softly reading poetry from one of the yellow-paged books.

[I'm here]

[Go inside to the bathroom. Lock yourself inside of the leftmost stall.]

I felt the hunger growing inside of me. I needed it. I knew it was the only thing that could distract me from thinking about Tessa, and it was all I had to keep me from feeling all of the sadness that wanted to pull me into the darkness - deep inside of myself.

I marched through the front door. A little old man was stationed at the cash register to my right; he gave me a polite nod as I powered past him. I didn't know exactly where the bathroom was, but I headed towards the back of the store.

Eventually, I saw a doorway that was blocked off with a green velvet curtain. A sign above it let folks know that the bathrooms were past that point. I squeezed through the opening in the fabric; moments later, I opened the door to the men's restroom.

There was one urinal positioned to the right; to the left, there were two stalls. I paused for a second as I made my way towards the one that he'd told me to enter. I noticed a plaque on each door. The one on the right had an ornate picture of an old-fashioned quill pen; the other one had a picture of an inkwell. I popped into the latter.

I was realizing that I wasn't going to be reading poetry with the President. I was fine with that, though. I was okay being his whore. I knew that feeling him touch me would be all the distraction that I needed.

Lacking that distraction for a while longer, however, I immediately noticed how dirty the inside of the stall was. The grout between the tiles on the floor was turning brown. The door was covered with doodles and graffiti; a large penis with spurts of cum shooting from its tip took up most of the space.

I glanced down at my phone again. I wondered if he was already parked near the store or if he was on the way. I was also curious if he'd be alone or if Tommy would be with him. It made more sense for him to have a guard, so I readied myself to hear Tommy entering the bathroom to do a preliminary search.

I noticed something from the corner of my eye. There was a hole in the partition connecting the two stalls. Even though I'd only sucked cock once, I still knew what it was for. I wasn't that naïve. The fuzzy hair on my arms stood on end as I imagined the President snaking his mammoth meat through the opening.

Suddenly, the main door creaked loudly as it opened. Heavy footfalls echoed through the small room as someone walked towards the stall next to mine.Is that him?The man quickly took a position in front of the toilet and unzipped his pants.

I looked at his shoes. They were all I could see. They were beat-up sneakers. They weren't the same ones the President had worn when I saw him out jogging, but I knew he had to own more than one pair.

"Ahem," the person said, clearing his throat.Maybe its Tommy? Should I say something?

[Is that you? In the next stall?]

[Why don't you stick your tongue through the hole and see?]

Indescribable excitement overpowered me.I knew it was him, I told myself. I dropped to my knees, darted my tongue to the hole, then traced its perimeter, trying to make myself into the good little slut that I imagined he wanted me to be.

I pulled my head back and waited. I readied myself to completely devour his massive cock once it slid through the opening into my cubicle. As surely as the anticipation of pain can be worse than pain itself, I was already high on the anticipation of relief - of escape.

I heard the President shifting his body inside of the other stall. I bit my lower lip as I saw a hint of peach-colored flesh started to peak through the opening. Then, a flaccid cock snaked its way into my stall.

What the fuck?I was confused - well, more than confused. I was dumbfounded. There was a soft, basic-looking, three-inch cock where the President's was supposed to be. Examining it more closely, I could see some wiry, grey pubes filling to top portion of the hole.

[I don't understand]

[I wanted to see you today. I was thinking about fucking your throat all morning. I'm trapped here at a budget meeting. I figured the next best thing to having you suck my cock is getting to watch you practice. Make sure you send me a video each time you swallow a load.]

I was shocked by what he was saying. I couldn't believe he was asking me to suck off other guys just so he could watch. I felt a tinge of disappointment as I realized I wasn't going to be seeing him.

[Is this your friend?]

I was still trying to figure out the exact game we were playing.

[No. I just thought it'd be the right place to help you build your skills. I want you to suck off every guy who sticks his dick into that hole in the next hour. Send me a video of each one]

I felt dirty - lower than a truck-stop hooker who was getting paid with drugs. It felt right, though. After what had happened with Tessa, a part of me thought I deserved to be treated that way.

[If you need motivation, just pretend it's me. Remember, no teeth!]

"Ahem," the man on the other side of the partition said again.

I'd left the house planning to be a slut. I decided I still could be, even though the President had thrown me a curveball. I scooped up the elderly man's cock head between my lips and started suckling on it.

A peacefulness immediately filled my mind as I focused on the feeling of his soft dick perched between my lips. It felt good; it made me feel great, too - like I had some value, even as other parts of me were still trying to tell me that I was worthless.

I slobbered on the first few inches of the man's dick until it got hard. He was a respectable six inches and a normal girth. I gripped his root with my right hand then popped back onto his firm rod.

The more I sucked on the old guy, the more I imagined the President watching me do it. I pictured him standing behind me, watching me bob up and down. I could practically see himself jerking off his horse cock with two hands as he watched me go from being his personal whore to a free-use cocksucker.

The elderly man on the other side of the wall was eerily quiet. If it hadn't been for the drops of pre-cum lighting up my taste buds as I sucked him, I would have questioned if he was actually enjoying himself.

I tried to focus on the fact that I was pleasing the President by obeying his commands, but I was starting to actually enjoy sucking the old guy's cock. I liked how hard he felt throbbing in my mouth. It seemed to make my own cock pulse harder, too. I enjoyed the hot feeling of his slicked-up flesh gliding back and forth across my tongue. I loved that I knew he was getting close; it was so much better than with women. Guys can't fake their arousal in the same way.

I repositioned my feet below me. I inadvertently rocked back onto my right heel so that the base of my butt plug pressed against it. A surge of electricity shot through me as the silver device pushed deeper inside of me and battered my fag spot. Without thinking, I started rocking back and forth on my heel as I continued to devour the mute old man.