Leslie Marie Blaine winced with pain with each step she took upon the marbled tiled floor that led from the visors center towards the anti-infection unit of the Maine Burn Center. As the First Lady of Maine, Leslie had already spent two hours touring the rest of the facility, and being a photo opportunity, several television crews were on tour with the group, snapping pictures and taking shots of her holding bandaged children and watching nurses' clean wounds. Those pictures conveyed the motherly side of Leslie; the dutiful wife of a politician who was dressed in a checkered brown dress that could be worn to any church function and be considered appropriate, while her matching beige pantyhose and black high heels clicked loudly with each step upon the tiled floor. It was the latter that was giving her pain, for the instep of her high heels were a bit to tight and the two hour tour was pushing her toes unmercifully forward into the pointed tip of her shoe. With each step her feet began to hurt more and more until the Director of the Maine Children's Burn Center stopped short of a double set of doors.
"We are about to enter hell. This area of the center is officially called the anti-infection room, but everyone calls it the vat room. Everyday the children are brought down here and soaked into these big vats. The vats are filled with chemicals that strip away the burned skin and keep infection down. While it is something that has to be done, it is excoriating pain for the children."
Even through the double set of doors that were well sealed, Leslie could here the faint cries of children screaming and crying. That horrific sound only intensified as the tour group slipped through the doors and heard a dozen children or varying ages all screaming out in pain. One little child, an African-American kid, gripped his mother's hand as a nurse was beginning to strip off his diaper and bandages in preparation for his soak into the vat of chemicals.
"No mommy, no. Please no. Please don't let them put me in there..."
It was all Leslie could do to keep from running from the vat room. Tears streamed down her eyes as she noticed the children's pain, the look in their eyes, and their god-awful screams. Leslie was not alone. Even the photographers and the nurses were not immune to the pain, carnage and screams that invaded every sense of humanity and compassion. When the tour concluded in the atrium, there was not a dry eye in the group.
"It's truly horrific isn't it? The sad part is, we need to add on. We cannot keep up with the number of children being burned in this state Mrs. Blaine. We would like to do something unheard of for a business and that is start an educational program that is so effective; we have to go out of business. Unfortunately we need government involvement. I hope this tour was enlightening, and that you have seen first hand what we are trying to accomplish. Anything you can do to help us would be greatly appreciated."
"You have my unparalleled support," Leslie said quietly, never in her life being so drained from such a tour. The pathetic look on the children's faces had conveyed so much pain, so much anguish, that no woman with a conscience could help but support such a lofty effort. Sitting behind an oak conference table, Leslie nonchalantly crossed her legs, not believing that twenty minutes ago she was lamenting to her aide that her shoes were too tight. Such discomfort paled in comparison to what those children endured, and it made Leslie ashamed to no end. As Leslie dangled her shoe off her toe, Andrea Houser continued her pitch at funding the centers new educational activities.
"We do have a fund raiser coming up next week. A motorcycle ride in, but unfortunately it lands on Laconia's Bike Week. I'm afraid we aren't going to get the publicity to bring in the donations that we really need. Perhaps your presence there will generate a bit more interest?"
"Whatever you need, in whatever you wish, you just let me know. You, your nurses and this center have my undivided support," Leslie said, but it still seemed weak despite her sincerest support.
______
As Leslie lay next to her husband on the bed, thoughts of the burned children screaming as their wounds were recovered screeched through Leslie's mind. Sex was the last thing she really wanted, but she gave no indication of that as she felt him position the tip of his cock on her shaven pussy lips. He was the most powerful man in the State of Maine and while he could have just about any lady he wanted, the fact that he still wanted her after all these years of marriage, meant Leslie let him have all he wanted, even if she was not really in the mood.
She felt the Governor use his manhood to open and explore her, the tip just dipping inside, sliding into her wetness that had slowly been growing. Just knowing he still wanted her, turned her on; so did taking his shaft, especially one inch at a time, which was what he was doing now. He gave her another inch and then rode her like that, just the tip, in and out.
Leslie protested as she wanted it all. She wanted him to slam into her to the hilt, molding her skin to fit his hands, her sex to fit his shaft tightly. Her sex contracted on the head of his manhood, trying to pull her powerful husband deeper inside her, and finally he took pity on her and gave her more. She loved being filled by him, the warmth that spread throughout her body the complete loss of control. She was overwhelmed by his size, his massive hands around her slender waist, his hard thighs supporting her, pressing into her even. She arched up further to him, offering him more of her, all of her and he took it.
Then he began driving the full, hard length of his shaft into her, letting his balls slap against her, spanking her with them, easing off and then thrusting forward again. His hips snapped against her, forcing her into his rhythm, a rhythm Leslie loved. She dug her nails into the mattress for support and thrust back against him, moving with him, loving the speed and exhilaration of it. Her heart was also racing, her heart pounding even, and her breath was ragged.
She squeezed as hard as she could, loving the ache building within her. The walls of her vagina opened and closed on him like a fist. He lifted her up off the mattress feeling the memory foam shift under his weight as he began moving her body up and down on his cock. Leslie felt so small in his grip, like a lobbyist who was feeling the wrath of the governor, a tender roughness that only her husband could bring. She melted into his embrace as he kissed the curve of her neck, his tongue licking along the ridge of her shoulder, his teeth searching for purchase as he finally came.
Leslie felt it jettison inside of her, a warm, sticky sensation that filled up her womb and made her swoon with enjoyment even though he had not yet reached her own peak. As she lay there, he was still moving inside her, though it was more of a twitch than full thrusts as he tried to release every drop he had inside him. It spilled into her in a slight ooze even as he began to soften within her, her legs still wrapped around him dutifully.
_______
The sudden scream ripped through the Governor's mansion and echoed down every hallway. Instantly Leslie was awake and looking at her husband, unaware that it was her own voice that had made the shrill cry.
Leslie Honey, are you okay," her husband asked, his heart racing as fast as Leslie's from the scream she had just emitted. "You're shaking violently and covered with sweat. What's the matter?"
