” He said.Impatiently I grabbed his schlong, letting it flop a little in my grasp as I hefted his golf-balls. Expertly my hand curled in a series of flutters around his scrotum.I leaned those big lips of mine close to his ear and whispered,“That, my boy, is a COCK!” Then I stuck my tongue in and wiggled it around to make my point.He was making a point too; the big spear in my hand was rapidly solidifying.I looked down and inspected the wares.Crap… the stud was packing a totally impressive nine incher, but of course, that’s no longer big enough in my book.Well damn, I thought to myself, if I’m going to get punished over this, I might as well enjoy it.I spun him again by his collar and this time pushed him up fully onto a table, his legs flailed as I straddled him.“Ready for the ride of your life, little colt?” I ripped open my blouse, letting my boundless cleavage show.“Yes?” He whimpered barely.“Good.” I said, and then plunged myself onto his hardness. No panties and a skirt, nothing. There is a funny thing about politics. If people think you have influence, you really do have influence. As the visible face of a charitable organization and a lobbying firm, people started showing up at my door. Many were crackpots, though even a crackpot theory can be interesting. Most were a total waste of time. Most, but not all. Carlton Weber walked into the office one afternoon, asking to see me.Carlton Weber was the son of James Weber and Fiona Endicott. Fiona was one of Elspeth's many shirt-tail relatives. I gave Carlton thirty minutes to make a case. He only needed five. The short version was that Fiona was fired, because her husband James was caught selling drugs. I might not have paid any more attention, except that the drugs were magic brownies for cancer patients.Some of the facts were clear. James had quantities of a controlled substance, with intention to distribute them. The state and federal government did not care if the recipients were unable to keep food down, or.
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