The Secret Service must have been in contact with the staff back at the White House, because almost immediately a cell phone rang and one of the agent... handed it to me. It was Frank Stouffer, my Chief of Staff. “How’s he doing, Mister President?”“Jesus! How did you...”“Sir, please! This is the White House. We know everything, remember! I heard from the Secret Service.”I snorted out a laugh at that. “Yeah. We don’t know yet. They airlifted him to the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center. We. My own fingers started moving more urgently, making vulgar schlep, schlep noises as I thrust in and out of my horny cunt, the thumb circling my clit with small, rapid strokes. The naughty digits of my other hand sought entry to my own demanding bottom, stretching the ring of muscle until they found their way inside.I could no longer concentrate on the eyepiece; my own need had become too great.My muscles contracted, and I started wailing as my orgasm hit, my legs shook uncontrollably. I stuffed. "No," she said, leaning back a bit and presenting her barely-covered breasts to my mouth, "I've had a note from my friend Mrs. T -- about you, and I can hardly believe what she had written." Her hand slid a bit closer to my groin as I resisted nipping her jutting tit which had tumbled from her loosely tied gown."Really," I said. "Well, what should we do first, adjourn to your bed or dispose of this Redcoat?"She laughed, jiggling her full breasts that stood corset-free beneath her flimsy. That was when I got the idea.I got out of the sleeping bag and took off all my clothes. In the moonlight, I thought I didn't look half bad-- an abundant, fertile figure of womanhood, balloon-like breasts sloshing over a round belly, trunklike thighs holding up a round, eminently grabbable ass. There was a lot to love here, I thought, if I could just make Troy see (or feel) that.I crept in the dark, with only my sandals on, over to the men's side. The women's door was locked, of course, but the.