Leslie was an NPR card carrying SJW snowflake, easily triggered, who cried about climate change almost every day.
She was also extremely sexy.
Donnie was a Trump luvin’ deer hunter from Michigan, in town for the armor piercing bullet convention in Anaheim CA.
Leslie was staying at the hotel with her boyfriend Josh for their visit to Disneyland, the happiest place on earth, in the parking lot of which they had had a huge fight (because Josh forgot where the car was parked) and had not spoken to each other much during dinner.
At about 11pm she still hadn’t gotten the apology she was waiting for. She told him she was going to go down to the hotel bar for a drink. He just grunted. He was still mad at her too.
At the bar, Leslie met the Trump-lover, Donnie, who offered to buy her a glass of wine.
She said no. He said please and she said, sure what the hell.
They shared a drink and she quickly gathered that he was an idiot and so on. He didn’t gather much about her, because he was hot for her nice boobs and her sweet butt and her angelic millennial face. He was 40, so there was that age difference fun, as she was 23.
He reminded Leslie of one of her cousins who grew up in Georgia and collected animal hides. But there was something sexy about Donnie. He had very nice biceps, and was in great shape, from all that hunting. He had a beard, which made him look manly. In fact, she thought, he was way more manly than her stupid boyfriend Josh. She was starting to find him very attractive when he brought up our Cheeto-in-chief.
“Oh no,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’re a Trump supporter.”
“Well,” he said. “I did vote for him. I don’t know how I feel any more. I guess I would vote for him again. We’ll have to see who the Demo-craps put up next election.”
“OK, Donnie,” she said. “I think we’re done here. That’s too bad, because you are kinda cute. But supporting Trump is a total deal breaker, not to mention the fact that my boyfriend is up in the room.”
“Really?” he said. “I guess you musta had a fight or something, otherwise you wouldn’t be down here drinking with me.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “But as I say, Trump support is not sexy. In fact, it’s the least sexy thing you could possibly do. I guess a close second would be that other thing you were talking about, you know, with the guns and shit.”
“Right. Killing defenseless animals. I think that’s just horrible. I hate guns. And by the way, armor piercing bullets, why do you need to pierce armor with your bullets? Donnie, Bambi doesn’t wear armor.”
“I know,” he said. “But you libtards, when you come for my guns, you might put some armor on. In fact, I’d advise it. Because you’re going to have to pry my weapons from my…”
“Cold dead hands?” she finished his sentence. “Donnie, you’re a real original.”
So how was it that only minutes later she found herself in Donnie’s room, kissing him passionately while they rolled around on his bed?
Well, he didn’t seem to take the whole Trump thing so seriously. It seemed like it was a mischievous joke that he was really enjoying, this whole reality show character running a country. Donnie was light hearted. While Josh was so damn serious, moody and brooding all the time. This was a refreshing break.
“I never thought I’d have sex with a deplorable,” she said to him, in between snogging. Then she pulled her shirt off and whipped off her bra and put her beautiful bosoms in his red-stated face.
“Mmmm,” he said, idiotically. “Boobies…”
“That’s what they are, Donnie,” she said.
God it was so relaxing to be around an idiot. Josh, as he was fond of reminding everyone, was working on his PhD in philosophy at UCLA. He was always mansplaining existential thoughts to her.
“I think I’m going to break up with Josh,” she said, as Donnie sucked on her nipples. “He’s no fun.”
“You’re lotsa fun,” he said.
“You are too,” she said. “I never thought I’d hear myself saying this, but I think I want to suck your deplorable cock. Get those pants off, boy.”
He obeyed her and pulled his pants and briefs off. His cock was as you would expect, fully hard and stupidly proud of itself. Standing to attention like a Trump soldier, all seven inches of it.
“Yeah,” he said. “Blow me, baby!”
She looked at him cross-eyed. She had never heard those words from a man. But, she had to admit, she had blown them, all her previous libtard boyfriends. It’s just that they had never been so crude as to say “Blow me, baby.”
“Well,” she said, grabbing his stupid proud penis, “We’re really crossing the political divide tonight, aren’t we?”
Then she was sucking that Trumpian cock as hard as she could suck it. Damn, she thought, if only it were this easy. If only she could unite this country with a blow job. If only she could rid the world of all this divisive political acrimony by putting a cock in her mouth and going down on it like there was no tomorrow. She would do that for America, if she could. She was so sick of this civil war. This culture war. This war.
“It’s like Casablanca,” she said, coming up for air.
“Huh?” he said.
“Life during war time,” she said. “We’re two refugees. We’re caught up in this thing that is much bigger than both of us. We’re on opposite sides. But here, tonight, with my mouth on your cock, there’s a kind of informal ceasefire.”
“OK,” he said. “Whatever you say.”
He had never had his cock sucked so preciously. Most of the girls he got sucked off by were real outdoorsy tough types, who sucked it roughly and fast. But this libtard, she was tender with her lips. She kissed her way down the shaft. She lovingly licked the head. She was driving him crazy.
“I like the way you blow,” he said.
She chortled, which with the cock in her mouth made a whoopie cushion effect. He laughed too. They were having a laugh, these two Americans. And why shouldn’t they? They had far more in common than that which divided them. She liked to have sex and so did he. And there was the added plus of getting back at Josh.
Getting back at Josh for being so boring and whiny and arrogant and…
“Fuck me,” she said suddenly.
She wanted that Trump supporter to ram her and ram her hard. Like a real man.
“Oh yeah baby,” said Donnie. “I’ll bang ya.”
She laughed again. She was going to get “banged!”
She had never been banged before. These NPR guys, they don’t bang. They first politely eat you out. Then they considerately ask your consent. And then they gently put it in. And then they dribble a bit off cum out of their limp little dicks.
“Bang me baby!” she cried, as he started banging her.
“I should tell ya,” he said, breathlessly, as he pounded her from on top, in the missionary, the way he liked it. “I am married and I have five kids.”
“Of course you do,” she said. “I’d have it no other way.”
“But if you want to move to Michigan we can make a go of it. I’ll teach you how to skin a rabbit.”
“No thanks,” she said. “Let’s just have this moment.”
“There’s no way I’m gonna move to this crappy libtard state. Too many Mex–”
“Don’t go there, please, Donnie,” she said. “The Trumpism is one thing, but the racism I can’t handle.”
“Yeah, but the Mex — ”
“No!” she cried.
And then, to distract him, she got herself on all fours and showed him her sweet ass.
“Forget about that Donnie. Don’t you like the look of that ass!”
“Oh yeah, that’s pretty nice,” said Donnie. “But you should see my wife’s. She weighs 350 pounds. Her ass is about three times the size.”
“Sorry, Donnie,” she said. “This is all I got. Are you gonna fuck it or what?”
“Yes ma’am,” he said, pleasantly. And in he went.
It was delicious. Even if he did keep talking nonsense.
“You’re sure a lot tighter than my wife,” he said. “I guess you haven’t had kids. I mean, with each kid Doris had, she got looser and looser. I can hardly feel it now when I put it in her. But this. This is real nice. Oh yeah. This was my lucky night alright.”
“Mine too,” she gasped, because, believe it or not, she was about to come. This fucking Trump idiot was plowing her field real well, and she had reached her first culmination.
“I’m having an orgasm!” she explained.
“You’re kidding me,” he said. “I don’t’ think Doris has ever had one of those. What’s it like?”
“Oh, Donnie, it’s good. Just keep pounding that ass. It’s like, there’s a whole swirl of a river rising up in my pussy and I’m about to flood. Oh here I go!”
And she came again, nice and juicy.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes!”
He kept fucking her and she started thinking about Trump, how she tuned into CNN and NPR every day hoping to hear the good news, that he had finally been put in jail, but never had she been satisfied. Now she was satisfied. Donnie was in her jail, the jail of her pussy. And he was locked up inside her. Doing her bidding.
“Fuck me, Donnie,” she ordered. “Come in me!”
He did as he was commanded, and soon the deplorable was shooting a manly load of semen inside the liberal vagina. And it was good. For both of them.
A little while later she climbed into bed with Josh, who woke up from a slumber and said, “Did you have fun at the bar?”
“Sure,” she said. “I met a deplorable named Donnie who took me back to his room and fucked me doggie style for about half an hour.”
“You’re funny,” he said. “I’m sorry about earlier, honey. I love you.”
“I love you too, Josh,” she said.
And she spooned behind him and drifted off to a blissful sleep.