The Candidate

"If elected, my government would revisit the question of gay marriage and we would work toward repeal." Cameras flashed as the candidate made his bold promise.

"Does that reflect your stance on gay rights in general?" a reporter asked.

"It reflects our party's position that true marriage is a union only between a man and a woman."

"You've never been known to support gay rights or Pride celebrations in your constituency. Are you anti-gay?"

"The Bible is clear in its condemnation of homosexuality as an abomination." The candidate gave chapter and verse from Leviticus. "I stand with many when I say 'love the sinner and hate the sin'. I support the institutions of conversion therapy as a compassionate cure for this form of mental illness."

At mention of the controversial and debunked conversion therapy, the reporters launched a barrage of new questions.

"Do you really believe homosexuality is an illness?"

"Do you support LGBTQ in the armed forces?"

"Have you seen the evidence that forced conversion therapy doesn't work?"

The candidate continued in the same vein until the press conference turned its attention to the next speaker in the candidates' debate, a liberal who took an opposing position to his rival's entire platform.

The candidate was exhausted. This was the price of leadership. Carrying the weight of the country's welfare on his shoulders, once he was elected, would not be easier.

Sometimes he wanted to just give up control and just follow orders like everyone else, but he could never be seen to do that. He owed it to his country.

But he was under a great deal of stress. Naturally, he had to have an outlet for that stress or it would overwhelm him.

His driver opened the limousine door for him. "Take me to the club, Geoffrey."

"Yes, sir," his driver replied.

After a short drive downtown, the limousine parked in the club's private parking lot, alongside several other high-end cars. The candidate got out of the limo and walked to the exclusive member's entrance, well-hidden from the street and prying eyes. The doorman admitted him upon seeing his credentials. No one entered without being checked. The candidate appreciated this eye to detail and security. He wondered if the doorman could be bought and shuddered. The candidate's privacy was priceless to him.

Once inside, the candidate entered a large private booth and stripped off all of his clothes, neatly stacking them on a chair in the corner. He even took off his wristwatch. His middle-aged body was as naked as when it entered the world.

At the far end of the booth was a blank wall with three large perfectly circular holes cut at about the average man's waist level. There were cushions on the floor beneath each hole.

The candidate reflected that there was risk involved in coming here. Once he was leader of the nation, he would no longer have the freedom to let off steam in this way; his itinerary would be too managed. Even now, it was a luxury that would have given his campaign advisor a stroke.

The candidate knelt on the cushion and leaned into the head-sized hole. Almost instantly a large, erect penis appeared on the opposite side of the wall. It poked through the hole and the candidate, always eager in his work, opened his mouth and accepted the offering.

He closed his willing lips on the engorged penis and began to suck it. He held it by its root and pumped a little with his hand. It felt good to be used in this way, surrendering the power that was so ingrained in his everyday existence.

His thoughts split between what he was doing in the present and his campaign platform, most notably toward homosexuality. He knew that what he was practicing here fell under that banner, but God knew his own and knew his heart. He sinned, but his policies would protect others from the same sin. That was the greater good and God would understand.

The candidate's cheeks collapsed as he applied his most powerful suction lock on the cock in his mouth, jerking his head to and fro and gaining speed. The man on the other side knocked on the wall. The candidate leaned back and let string after string of cum land on his face. The man had stored a lot up, the candidate thought. Jizz dripped down his clean-shaven face onto his chest.

Another cock stood ready to be served in the next hole. The candidate took it in his mouth and reproduced his efforts with a vengeance. As he sucked, pre-cum and spit collected on the edges of his mouth, creating a little white bubbly moustache above his lip. The semi-viscous liquid hung like a thread from his chin, stretching down to his pecker.

Within a minute, this cock was ready to unload. The candidate backed off once again and allowed wad after wad of the silky cum to coat his face. Some even landed in his eye.

But there was no time to wipe it off. A third cock, poking through the last hole, awaited his attention.

If only these men knew they were being serviced by the future leader of their country! Wouldn't they be honoured!

He finished off ten cocks in all and he was exhausted by the time the supply ended. His jaw hurt. The coating of cum on his face had grown cold. It was thick and syrupy. There were beads of jism in his hair and rivulets ran down his chest to his belly and his cock.

"Mr. Candidate," a voice said in the darkness on the other side of the wall. The candidate peered into the darkness but he couldn't see anything until the flashes started going off.

"Thank you, sir," the photographer said. "Don't worry, you won't be blackmailed. I'm a journalist, and I've already uploaded these pictures. My editor has them now, whatever you or your security do to me or my phone. You'll be exclusive front page news tomorrow morning and what candidate doesn't dream of that?"

There was the sound of a shuffle as the journalist made good his escape on the other side of the wall. He seemed to leave unopposed.

The candidate's question about whether the doorman could be bought was answered. He knelt perplexed, knowing his career, his marriage, and the election had all just been irretrievably lost. Inexplicably, he still had a raging boner. He knelt staring into the dark hole where the photographer had been until at last another cock came through. He sighed and opened his mouth.