Inside Hillary Clinton

If New Hampshire was a whirlwind, Iowa was worse. It's a big state, full of tiny towns spread far apart, and we had to visit as many of them as possible in the few days we had. Marsha and Gail were doing a tremendous job on the advance work, and the state party organization turned out to be very well organized. The days were an exhausting blur of planes, buses, limos and endless shaking of hands, making short speeches and smiling, smiling, smiling.

Hillary was amazing. I could barely stand at the end of the day, and she was still raring to go. Her energy and enthusiasm were incredible, and it impressed the voters as well. Some things you just can't fake, and Hillary was the real deal. She was the vibrant center of attention in every room she entered. She made people believe that she was the smartest, nicest, hardest-working person they'd ever met. Nobody who shook her hand could doubt that she'd be a great president. And it didn't hurt that she had that incredible, mysterious, sex appeal.

I had a rare break one night in Cedar Rapids, and was relaxing at the hotel bar. Hillary was at dinner with the governor and other Iowa bigwigs, and I was granted a brief reprieve. Dale, one of the local campaign staff, spotted me and brought his drink over.

"Things are going well, don't you think?" he said.

"Absolutely," I replied. "Every political figure of stature in Iowa has endorsed Hillary, and the news can't get enough of her. We're getting a fortune in free publicity."

"What impresses me even more," Dale went on, "Is the effect she has on common people. Everyone just responds to her, in an almost subconscious way. Even me."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, don't take this wrong," Dale went on, "But I've liked her for a long time. I think she's smart, I like her ideas; I think she'll be a good leader. But when I met her in person for the first time, she just bowled me over." He hesitated. "Promise you won't tell anyone this?" I nodded and waved him to continue. "The other night after I met her," Dale said, "I couldn't stop thinking about her. I had crazy ideas. Asking her to leave Bill and marry me, run away together somewhere. I even dreamed about her that night. Am I nuts?"

I knew all too well he wasn't. Something about Hillary made men's dicks spring to attention and women's panties grow moist. Must be pheromones or something. I'd been seeing it since we started the campaign, and it affected me as much as anyone. Just thinking about it gave me an erection and I looked at my watch to see when she'd be done with dinner. Almost time.

I said goodnight to Dale and headed up to the room. Mine was right next to the candidate, which was natural enough since we worked so closely together. The door between the rooms was an added bonus. I took a quick shower and changed out of my grimy campaign suit. I had just put on jeans and a sweatshirt and was toweling my hair when there was a soft knock at the adjoining door. Hillary walked in with a brilliant smile and a tray of champagne. She was wearing a silk kimono that hid almost nothing. She set the tray down and came into my arms.

"This is crazy, you know." I said, inches from her face.

"I know," she said. "Kiss me."

We rolled onto the bed as her kimono fell open. She pressed her entire body against me and kissed me hungrily.

"I've been thinking about this all day," Hillary murmured into my ear. She pushed my sweatshirt up and off my body as she continued to kiss my face and neck. One hand reached between my legs and squeezed my erection.

"I want this now," she demanded.

Hillary pulled open my jeans and slid them off my legs, then threw her kimono across the room and jumped on top of me. She kissed me again, one hand pulling at my hard cock, then turned and took it into her mouth. She slid her mouth up and down the length of it, struggling to take it all in.

"God, I love the taste of your cock," she said.

"I'm so glad," I murmured. The pressures of the day were gone, the thousand things to do erased from my memory. All I could think about was the incredible feeling of this gorgeous woman's lips and tongue on my straining manhood. I reached down with one hand and cupped one of her shapely breasts. She moaned around my cock as I squeezed her tit and tugged on the erect nipple.

Hillary sat up, tugging urgently at my cock as she kissed me again.

"I want to make you come," she said huskily. "I want to see you come." She straddled me, then slid down until her mouth could reach my cock again. She sucked it up and down, then licked it all over, finally licking my balls and sucking them briefly into her mouth.

"Are you going to come for me?" she asked, her eyes half-closed. "Do you have a nice big load for me?"

If I didn't, this was sure helping me to build one. God, she was hot. Hillary sat up and cupped her breasts in both hands.

"Do you like my tits?" she asked.

"God, yes." I answered. "They're gorgeous." And indeed they were. Full, firm and darker than I expected, as if she somehow found a way to sunbathe naked. I loved the feel of them in my hands and mouth. Hillary lifted her breasts higher and squeezed them together, licking both nipples and between her breasts. I thought I might come just from watching.

"I want you to fuck my tits," she said. She slid down between my legs until her face was near my belly. She lifted my cock in one hand and placed it between her breasts, then squeezed them together around it. Watching my face, she moved her body slowly up and down, her slick tits sliding around my dick with the most delicious sensation.

"Does it feel good?" she asked in a low, almost guttural voice. "Do you like fucking my titties?"

"Mmhmm," was all I could manage. I began to lift my hips in rhythm with her movements, fucking her tits just like a pussy. I was overwhelmed with the incredible feelings and the experience of this beautiful woman playing the slut for me.

It was like she could read my mind.

"Do you think I'm a slut?" she asked, still sliding her full breasts up and down my straining pole. "Do you want me to be a slut for you? Do you want to fuck me and fuck me and fuck me? Oh God!" she yelled, her eyes rolling back in her head as she came. Strangled noises came out of her throat as she thrashed above me. "God! That feels so good! Unngghhh!!" she screamed as she came again. "Come on, baby" she said, "Come on my tits. Come all over me!"

That was enough for me. With a last thrust I erupted in a powerful jet of steaming white cum that splashed over her chin, then up across her face and in her hair. I kept coming more than I ever had before, and finally collapsed, feeling a little faint.

Hillary's giggle brought me partway back to consciousness. I looked up, and she was leaning over me, cum dripping off her face and running down between her breasts.

"How do I look?" she giggled again, wiping one white stream off her nipple and sucking it off her finger. "Do you like the way I look dressed in your cum? I do," she said, turning and admiring herself in the mirror. She leaned down and lay full length against me, slipping around in the warm wetness between our bodies. "That was incredible," she said. I'm going to have to give you a nice reward later. Then she bounced off the bed, gave me a mischievous grin over her shoulder, and grabbed her kimono off the floor before disappearing back into her room. I passed out.

The next day started at 5am again with a planning meeting over coffee and bagels (I didn't even know you could get bagels in Iowa). The senator had a breakfast with a ladies service organization in Iowa City, and seven other campaign stops in the area before the big event that evening back in Cedar Rapids. One of the nice things about working with Democrats is that they often have support in the show business world and we can get big name stars to help raise publicity and money for the candidate. The papers that day were full of photos of that night's big attractions, Ted Danson and his wife, actress Mary Steenburgen. It kind of ticked me off that the photos of the candidate were smaller than those of the stars, and some papers didn't show her at all. But publicity is publicity, and free publicity is the best kind.

All the luminaries of Iowa were lined up for the dinner that night. Artists, educators, leaders from state and local government, successful businesspeople, and not a small number of people who had paid just for a chance to meet the stars and be seen in what was pretty glittering company for Iowa.

I was based in LA, so the Hollywood crowd was nothing new to me, but I had never met Ted or Mary before. Gail from the campaign staff was charged to meet them at the airport and make sure they got to the dinner on time. Ted had to fly back out to the coast right after his appearance, but Mary would be staying on at the same hotel we were in. She and Hillary were old friends going back to school days, and tried to get together at least a couple of times a year. I figured I wouldn't be seeing much of Hillary aside from official appearances that day.

The dinner was packed. All the press were lined up outside to catch photos of the celebrities, and everyone had dressed their best, knowing they might be in the paper the next day. We got people settled into their seats, then I introduced the governor, who had offered to be the master of ceremonies for the evening. A large local food processor had underwritten the dinner, and the food was better than usual. I was at a table with Gail and Marsha and some local staff, so I could keep an eye on the proceedings without trying to charm my dinner companions.

The governor was charming and did a good job of warming up the crowd. He brought on Ted Danson, who did a hysterical lampoon of the Republicans and had the crowd in stitches. Things were going well. Ted introduced his wife, Mary, then quietly slipped off the stage. Gail left the table to join him and get him back to the airport.

Mary was a surprise. I'd seen a few of her movies, and she was pretty enough and seemed sweet, but that night she was dazzling. It's easy to underestimate any particular star when you're always comparing them to all the other famous gorgeous people, but in person, Mary was breathtaking. Taller than I expected, she had the kind of beauty that made it hard not to stare. And you could tell she had plenty of practice commanding an audience. She moved around the stage, abandoning the podium, telling stories of herself and Hillary at a young age, throwing in some charming anecdotes about Bill, dropping a few big Hollywood names and totally charming the audience. When she talked about her charity work in Africa, she had half the audience in tears, including at least one old campaign warhorse. By the time she got around to introducing the candidate, she had the whole crowd eating out of her hand.

"People ask whether America is ready for a woman to lead them," she said. ""I don't think that's the right question. I believe we should be asking is it time for intelligent leadership? Is it time for leadership that cares about average Americans? Is it time for a leader who thinks not just about today, but about a future for our children and their children? Is it time for a leader who embraces the values that once made America a beacon of hope for the whole world? I believe the answer is yes! Ladies and gentleman, the next president of the United Sates of America, Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton!"

The crowd went nuts, jumping to their feet and whistling and hollering like they were at a rock concert. I was grinning from ear to ear. Hillary finally took the podium, and gave her speech. She did great, but there was no question who the star of the evening had been. If there'd been an opening for Governor of Iowa, Mary Steenburgen would have won it by acclamation.

We were all pumped up by the end of the evening. A great event, tons of money raised, great visibility, and a big step toward a commanding lead in the early days of the race. Hillary and Mary were joking and laughing in the limo back to the hotel, sitting arm in arm like the old friends they were. It was a great night. In the lobby, I thanked everyone and the staff all took off to their rooms, the hot tub or the hotel bar.

Back in my room I showered and changed, and sat down with the itinerary for the next few days. I could tell Hillary and Mary were having a grand time next door, as loud laughter occasionally came through the adjoining door. My concentration was frequently interrupted by memories of the incredible last few days with Hillary, and regrets that we wouldn't be able to be together that night.

A knock at the door interrupted my reverie, and I jumped up expecting Marsha or Gail with a snag in tomorrow's schedule. Instead it was room service with a tray.

"I didn't order any room service," I said, perplexed.

"Compliments of the ladies next door," said the young waiter, placing the covered tray on the table. A little confused, I signed, gave him a tip and he left. I lifted the lid on the tray and there was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, three glasses, and a folded note. I unfolded the slip of paper.

'Time for your reward. Please bring the tray and your lovely self next door,' I read.

I picked up the tray and knocked on the door between our rooms.

"You may enter," said an imperious voice, although the effect was spoiled by the burst of laughter that followed. A little nervous, I entered the room, holding up the tray in one hand.

"Did somebody order room service?" I asked.

They laughed again. Hillary was snuggled up next to Mary on the sofa, their arms linked together. She was in her silk robe, and Mary was wearing something similar, a beautiful sort of grey silk gown with intricate embroidery that must have cost a fortune.

"John, John, John," said Mary. Hillary has been telling me all about you. You have been a naughty boy," she said, with arched eyebrows.

Oh, God, I thought, and reddened. I'm not usually much of a blusher, but I didn't expect our secret to be out so soon.

Both women laughed again. Mary slid away from Hillary and patted the couch between them.

"You come sit down right here," she ordered. "I have some questions for you."

Uneasily, I moved across the room, setting the tray down on the coffee table and taking a seat between the two women.

The first thing I noticed was Mary's scent. Hillary always had a nice, clean, fresh-scrubbed smell to her, but Mary was wearing something musky and intoxicating. I felt like snuffling at her neck like a dog, but restrained the impulse. I covered by pouring and passing around glasses of champagne.

I was nervous, but it passed pretty quickly. We made small talk, the two women telling stories about each other from school days. The champagne helped. I relaxed, joining the laughter. But a good part of me was still very conscious of Hillary, and wondering if we'd get any time together that night. And I have to admit that another part kept stealing glances at Mary. She really was very beautiful. Whether it was just genes or Hollywood artifice, she didn't look anything near her real age. Beautiful, full, dark curly hair almost to her waist, slim, nice legs peeking out from the folds of her gown, flat belly, firm high breasts, flawless skin. She could have passed for twenty-five except for the little crinkles around her eyes, but you were so quickly drawn into their big brown depths that you scarcely had time to notice them. And somehow it was all coupled with a beguiling girl-next-door quality. Mary didn't seem like a remote Hollywood screen goddess, but more like the nicest, prettiest girl in your high school.

It had been a long day, and I've never had much of a head for champagne. I guess at some point I had tuned out the conversation, because the girls laughed, and I heard Mary say, "I think the poor boy is tired."

"Oh, poor baby," Hillary responded with a laugh. I shook my head to clear it and apologized.

"That's ok," said Mary, you just lie down and put your head right here," and she patted her lap. I looked at Hillary and she smiled and pulled my feet up to her lap, so I just lay back and relaxed. Hillary started rubbing my feet, and Mary lightly stroked my head, gently pulling my hair back from my face.

"I'm going to start purring if you keep that up," I murmured, but they were busy chatting and I don't think they heard me. I just lay back and enjoyed the sensations. Hillary gave a pretty mean foot rub, as it turns out, and Mary's stroking was so soothing after a long day. I gradually became aware again of that wonderful aroma coming from Mary, and turned my head toward her to get a better whiff.

"What are you doing?" she asked with a small laugh.

"I'm sorry," I said, embarrassed, "I was just wondering what perfume you're wearing." Both women burst out laughing. I was perplexed.

"It's all right," said Mary. "I don't wear perfume."

"Men have been asking her that her whole life," said Hillary. "Mary just naturally smells...intoxicating," and they both cracked up again. Amazing.

"Oh, go ahead," Mary said, lifting her arms as if in surrender. "Get a good nose full."

I turned my face into her belly and inhaled deeply, then sighed. She kept stroking my face and head. I lifted my head a little higher, and the smell was, if anything stronger. I kept moving up slowly, then suddenly realized I was approaching her breasts and dropped back, embarrassed. Hillary smiled and leaned over into Mary's neck, inhaling deeply.

"Mmm, it is hard to resist, isn't it," she said, and she and Mary gave each other a meaningful look. They both laid their heads back on the couch and talked and laughed softly, Mary absently rubbing my head and Hillary continuing to work on my feet and legs. I might have dozed off for a minute, but consciousness returned abruptly when I realized that Hillary was now stroking my cock through my jeans. I looked at her, then quickly up at Mary, but neither paid any attention to me, and I wondered if Hillary even realized what she was doing.

My dick was growing large and stiff under Hillary's ministrations, and I shifted a little with discomfort. Hillary looked down at me and gave me a brief warm smile, and I felt a glow inside. Then she used both hands to pull down my zipper and ease my straining member out of my pants. She began stroking it up and down, but returned her attention to her soft-voiced conversation with her friend. I closed my eyes and focused on the wonderful feelings. I heard a soft giggle from both of them, and opened my eyes to see them both looking down at me and smiling.

"Why, I think you found a way to wake him up," said Mary with a laugh.

"At least part of him," responded Hillary, and they both laughed louder. Hillary shifted a little on the couch, then leaned down and took my hard cock in her mouth. I felt it jump, and my eyes practically rolled back in my head from pleasure.

"Oh, my," said Mary softly, with her gentle southern accent. Hillary sucked up and down several times, then sat up again, her hand continuing what her mouth had started.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she asked Mary, "And it tastes so good!" They both giggled again.

"Well, I'm not taking your word for it," declared Mary, and bending over, she took my dick in her hand and then wrapped her lips around it. The sight of this beautiful Hollywood star with her lips around my cock was almost too much for me. When her long fingernails trailed softly over my balls, my cock jumped again and I thought I couldn't stand this for long.

Hillary used one hand to pull Mary's hair back out of her way, and with the other, she stroked whatever part of my cock and balls weren't in Mary's mouth. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Finally Mary sat up again.