Meanwhile, back in the Presidential Suite in Boston, Mitt had ordered up bottles of non-alcoholic champagne to celebrate his presumed victory. Or so he thought. The evil prankster room service work, Manuel, harbored great disdain for Romney and immigration policies, and decided to take matters into his own hands by replacing the labels on 20 bottles of champagne with labels from non-alcohol bottles - so the Romney clan would be imbibing anti-Mormon alcohol.
As the election results rolled in, defeat was eminent even after rent boy loving Rove's Fox protestations otherwise, suite mates started to drink the spike bubbly, as Mitt and family don't believe in wasting anything.
The alcohol kicked in, Ann started feeling her loins burning for Mitt's man-cock, but since he was busy hastily writing his concession speech and wiping tears from his eyes, Ann wandered the halls in search of more ice for the crystal ice buckets. There, near the ice machine on the secure top floor, her eyes locked with a 6'4" black security guard who represented everything her pathetic, wimpy, non-presidential husband wasn't. He was big, tall, broad shouldered, and even in s suit, his bulge was noticeable. Ann's mind wondered, she was foggy from the alcohol, and she had never seen a black cock before. Her heart raced, her mind wondered, is he uncut, does he have curly pubes, and she noticed his huge hands, how big they were in comparison to Mitt's.
As she approached the ice machine, he offered to full the bucket for her, she tried to politely decline, and they hands brushed closely. For the first time in her frigid 40-something years, she felt lust overtake her. Their eyes met in a long gaze, in the deserted ice and vending room on the top floor of the Westin, and she knew, she had to have him inside her.
As her glaze shifted from his eyes to his crotch, the black man knew what was next, as he had seduced many black curious rich housewives employing his services many times in the past. He gave a knowing nod, whispered, its OK, you can touch it. But Ann, she wanted to more than touch it. She wanted it deep in her gullet, and thrusting inside her post menopausal barren woomb, deeper than anything she had ever taken before.
Ann knowingly knelt infront of the large black man, his thick black anaconda now unleashed from his trousers, and encountered not only her first black cock, but her first uncut dick. She was puzzled, unsure what to do with the milky foreskin and cheese that had built up over a long day. She inhaled the musk and started sucking, slowly working the spit covered foreskin back revealing a bright pink head on the tip of the massive member.
She could only manage to get a few inches in her mouth, the girth was just too much to handle. She whispered a demanding "I need you inside me, now!" "But, Ma'am, I'm working" he feigned objection, which she retored "yes, for me, and I demand you pump me full of you man juice... that's an order."
He lifted her up onto the ledge of the ice machine, raised her several thousand dollar designer dress, pushed aside her dripping moist panties and began the journey of shoving his 9 inches of black steel into her decrepit, full bushed, woman hole. She was dizzy from the booze, and over taken with primal lust, and felt like a whore for fucking the help, the black help no less.
He eventually managed to get it all in her gash, his heaving balls were swaying as he thrust into her, ravishing her. He tweaked her oh so tight bung hole with his long fingers as he held her in place on the ice machine. In his mind, violating her anally would be his crowing achievement, but it wasn't to be, even in her inebriated state, third input was off the table, that was Mitt's and Mitt's alone. Her whispers of "deeper, deeper, cum in me, fill me with your seed" were familiar to this black stud, he'd heard the same many times. But he knew he would need finish soon to get back to work, but her sloppy cunt, loose from dropping so many kids, was not going to do the job for him. He told her to suck him off...