Presidents in Private: Michelle Obama - Sex Stories

Presidents in Private: Michelle Obama

"Miss Coulter?" The young woman held the door wide open. She was wearing the formal dark suit of Michelle's personal servants and her curly brunette hair was pulled up straight into a bun. Ann sighed and gathered her things, holding a tablet in one hand and a bag in the other. She had been waiting in one of the large, luscious empire armchairs in front of the office. Having gotten an interview with the first lady came as a surprise to her, but she figured she would seize the opportunity while she could. Giving the young pale woman a snarling sideways glance, she stepped into the office. It was light, and spacious, neatly decorated and of course luxuriously furnished. Michelle was sitting by a side table a little away from her desk, all style and grace as usual in her dark knee-long skirt and perfectly tailored peach-coloured blouse. She smiled. "Ann," she said, "please have a seat. Sorry to keep you waiting." Ann shrugged and sat down in a chair opposite from her. "Ah, you and your husband keep the entire country waiting," she remarked, unpacking her keyboard setting everything up on the table. "Waiting for a new president, that is..." Michelle sighed. Things were going the way she had planned them, but it was still a nuisance having to hear those remarks. "Well," she said, smiling once more. "I thought, for the occasion, I would invite a friend over who would also like to speak with you." She nodded to the young woman who kept watch by the entrance. To Coulter's surprise, ...

... the door swung open once more to let in Hillary Clinton. She raised her eyebrows as she watched the president hopeful walk up to them, dressed in a light-blue business skirt and jacket, and a playful frilled orange blouse underneath, and take a seat next to Obama. This was indeed something she didn't expect, but in her mind she already figured it was all the better, getting a talk with both top democratic women at the same time. "Alright, shall we start?" Ann asked, looking around. Her tablet was set up and recording and she was ready to type. Michelle and Hillary looked at each other, then smiled. "Okay," Obama said. "Let's get started!" Without knowing what was happening to her, Ann suddenly felt herself getting grabbed from behind. Her arms were pulled rough behind her back while someone forced a ball gag into her mouth, keeping her from screaming. When she turned her head, she saw the guard, fixing her hands behind her back with a wide strap. What was happening? Was she getting abducted? Disappeared? Charged with some trumped-up accusation and silenced forever? A thousand different possibilities shot through Coulter's mind, fuelled by her deep-seated mistrust of the government in general, and democrats in particular. This, she was sure, this was finally it, the thing she's feared and warned of all along, the deep, dark truth of what was going on in this country. If she was to go out, she decided, she'd go out with her head held high. And so she looked defiantly up when the ...