Anal Voter
Chapter 1
Sharon Smyth cried out in pain and pleasure. Her asshole throbbed as it was stretched, the thick cock pumping into her. It ground hard. Grunting and heaving, she held her butt propped up at the best angle. She took every deep, pounding thrust as the man butt-fucked her.
She had been standing in line for hours but it had been worth the wait. Other women were standing behind her, waiting for their chance to meet the candidate. Many of them were starved for affection, being ignored by their husbands. Even so, some were smothered by too much affection from their spouses.
It's not every day a candidate tells you the truth about what's in store for you if you vote for him. This hotshot, whose name was Randy Waters, was not a racist, and made no bones about his loving women's asses -- whether white, brown, or black.
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Not surprisingly, Willy hailed from Georgia. He grew up on a farm where his family were poultry farmers. By watching how chickens ate corn kernels and seed, he developed strength of character. It was not easy to become a chicken, and a chicken would have to be extra special to get any kind of employment. Since there were no laws about chicken abuse, he saw a mystical meaning to poultry. In reality, a chicken's future looked dim.
Since he graduated from Middle School at the age of eighteen, Willy was determined to become a success in life. He felt, if he put his mind to it, he could achieve anything. At the moment he was working part time at the 7-11 store.
It was one sunny afternoon, when he was sitting on his front porch, munching some fried chicken he just bought at the Chicken Hut, that he heard a voice in his head.
The Voice was telling him something, but it was in French, and he didn't speak French. He knew it was French because most of his porn videos were in French. So he shrugged it off.
The next day the voice was back, initially whispering in his head, this time in German. The voice was very authoritarian, and now actually shouted at him. In his head! He got a buzzing sound in his ears and after having swigged gin straight up, the buzzing was replaced by a headache. He knew his body well enough; the headache would be gone tomorrow.
The third day there was a quiet voice. It didn't shout at him. He had to tell his wife to shut up and stop yelling at the kids. He was listening real hard. It was in English!
Well, it sounded like good English, not the kind they spoke at home, with the drawl and twanging and honking. It was the kind of English you hear on the radio. On the news!
He told himself, someday he'd buy a big TV, at least 21 inches. But for now, there was nothing special on TV he should be watching. Until his next door neighbor, Bubba, who lived two miles down stream, near the water moccasin pond, talked about the election and how people were running for elected office. Child molesters didn't have much of a following, but there were women running, usually with a bitch about this, that, or the other. And there were religious types who would be yelling 'praise the Lord' for just about any crazy thing somebody said. But there was no one running on the sex ticket. He was smart enough to know everyone liked sex -- especially if it wasn't with your wife. Anything but that! But there was no sex ticket, only the two parties who were buggering each other all the time. That was part of the political process, and it was Constitutional!
If the buggering got ready bad, they called it the rule of law. Something the average voter could understand, and what they were screaming about. They had hearings, because it gave those in office something to do. Otherwise they could stay home, and be lawyers, or own a gas station.