Chapter 08 - 2000 Campaigning Against Bush and Gore
The campaign to return Mark to the State Senate for a second four-year term had reached its end. The polls were about to close. There was no one else to convince, no thrill of selling one more voter on Mark's talent and ability. There was no more racing around for appointments, no setting up new events to showcase his good looks and good ideas.
There was only waiting for the results and then, we hoped, the party to celebrate winning.
I felt the exhilaration draining from my body. The campaign is like foreplay that continues steadily getting better for weeks on end. Now here I was longing to be pushed over the edge into a mythical orgasm that would not come.
The end of a political campaign is much like those nights when your husband leaves you hanging, then falls to snoring after spending himself between your legs. After a wonderful emotional buildup, the desolation that you know won't be erased by a good night's sleep. The snorer cannot be restored to your needs until some hoped for later campaign rekindles your hopefulness once again.
This is what I hate about being a political junkie, the unrequited campaign activity, the realization that even winning is just not enough. I think men feel the same way just after they spurt their warm sperm into the welcoming folds of a lover's pussy. They are glad they did it, but somehow it leaves them feeling shortchanged and sleepy just seconds after the last spurt has halfheartedly done its best to reward the recipient.
Against the wall
"Well, the polls are closed, we've done all we can do, Beth ... ..I just hope we overcame the headwind that Gore caused! Christ! This guy is so arrogant and puffed up that he may actually believe that he invented the internet. Jeeze, but he's a pompous ass."
"Yeah, I think you're right. But we've done all we can do. We're going to win anyway?" I reassured him.
Mark nodded, "Maybe. I'll just say a few thank-yous and we can go to dinner."
I looked at my watch, time for a leisurely dinner and then back to campaign headquarters by 8PM. The returns would start coming in by then. Mark moved through the crowd, hand on the backs of workers, a few words and a smile of encouragement and then accepting the weary smile of agreement.
"Great job! Thanks! Thank you, so much." They all looked tired but expectant, beginning to build toward a time later tonight when the whole group would be on yet another victory high or silently slumping off to their cars, then home to wait for "next time."
"OK, we're off, then!" he said, returning to my side.
We walked toward the door and waved to workers preparing the hopeful celebration banners or later, and Mark stopped in his tracks.
"Wait. I forgot. What did we do with my briefcase? Did I bring it in?"
"Maybe upstairs in the meeting room?" I said.
I couldn't recall seeing him with it since morning when he sent me out to get it from his car. He normally carried nothing with him on a day like this, because it was so easy to misplace things like that. The candidate looks more in control unencumbered.
We went up a flight of stairs and found the second floor meeting room deserted and silent. At the end of the hall was a second large room where a committee had held an early morning meeting. There were lights on at the far end of the hall and Mark walked there and began flailing at a backdrop which served as a focal point for a speakers' table.
"I remember putting it out of sight, back here someplace." My high heels clicked over the small uncarpeted area meant for a dance floor.
We pulled back the drapes and peered along the wall until we found it. I picked it up and handed it to him. Our hands touched and Mark took the bag and then grasped my hand with his free hand.
"I have once again forgotten to thank the most important one!" His big smile swept over his face and filled me with pleasure. "Thank you, Beth. You did a magnificent job! I can't even begin to express it."
"Oh, hush! I know. You don't have to thank me."
"Yes, I do. I always want it to be special. Then I wait for a moment when we are alone, but we are never alone, it seems. So, thank you!"
We stood looking into each other's eyes, both smiling happily. Our shared hardship and rewarding accomplishment were a tangible bond, firm, comfortable and reassuring between us. It was understood only by the two of us. He put the case down and put his hands on my waist.
"Look, we're alone," he said, and then his eyes softened, and he pulled me close and kissed me.
"You're welcome." I laughed.
Mark kissed me again, this time a little longer, and our tongues found each other and played in moist, thrilling harmony. When we broke apart again, I nodded to his unspoken question and pulled him behind the heavy navy blue drapes. The drapes swung heavily closed and we were standing in a backstage area, a painted block wall a few feet away and odds and ends of stage hardware scattered here and there.
The soft semi-darkness surrounded us in silence.
Our lips clung, wet and longing. I made a mental note to wipe my lipstick off his lips before we appeared again, and allowed my body to relax from the tension of the day. I could feel the welcome warmth of his body where we touched, the curve of my thighs, my breasts, now pressed against his chest, his arms tight around me. My stomach seemed extra sensitive as I imagined the details of his dick pressing against me. The thought of the big deep red head and the way the veins stood out when it was fully excited, flooded my mind.
Mark pressed his thigh between my legs and I rubbed against it shamelessly. I felt the slick sense of nylon under my skirt and knew that he was drinking in the sensuous texture of cloth sliding across taut silky nylon too.
"Ohhhh," he sighed. His thigh pressed harder against my mound and I stood on tiptoes, lifting one leg off the floor in pleasure. I enjoyed once again that feminine feeling of pantyhose snuggly embracing my body and Mark's masculine search for sensual pleasure from my body. His cock nudged me and I pressed for more of it as his hands cupped my breasts. Our hips made little tentative fucking thrusts while he played with my breasts, lifting them and urging the nipples into his palms. My bra was very thin and his hands moved over them sensually slipping the dress material smoothly against them. My nipples were like diamonds jutting through the see-through bra. I reached up and unbuttoned my dress so mark could have them. His hands leaped inside and seized my waiting tits.
"God, that feels good, Mark!" I gasped tensely. "Ohhhhh, so good!" His hands seemed unable to get enough of them, and he squeezed and lifted, then found my nipples and pinched gently. I thrust my hips tight against him and cuddled his warm, firm cock against me.
His hand slipped under my skirt and pleasure trailed from the fingers roaming my bottom, fondling the tightly encased roundness and the silky panties. He fondled the nylon covered buns, pressing me tightly against that firm cock, that warm, familiar friend. My sleek nylon thighs fondled and explored his thigh pulling my dress up.
We stood pressing sensual, sliding, touching, slow-fucking motions against each other, letting ourselves enjoy our bodies and our exploring hands.
"It's been so long." I gasped.
I felt him nod against my cheek, then kiss my ear and whisper, "I want you darling."
"Mmmmmm," I murmured breathily into his ear.
We nuzzled and kissed and Frenched some more. I could hear our breath in the enclosed space. That was the only sound. The sound of our gasping, slightly hoarse breath sent sexual messages. My mound was pressing tiny thrusting kisses against his balls, dangling below his big cock. I new we were both tingling in the same way that my nipples were.
Mark pressed me against the wall, hoisting my skirt out of the way. I clung to him as his cock probed. I took it out of his pants and lined it up vertically against my pantyhose, then felt his precum with the palm of my hand.
"Ohhhh, god, Mark. It feels so big, honey."
Mark slipped his hand between my legs and I opened so his hand could cup my pussy.
"You're wet," he whispered. I nodded as his tongue played in my ear.
"Let me take my pantyhose off."
We parted and I felt him start to pull them down over my hips. I rested my hands on his wrists and sucked his tongue back into my mouth as his hands struggled down my hips. When the pantyhose were down to my crotch, he nudged his cock between my legs and I felt the joy I always felt when the head of his dick slipped between my legs. Searing white-hot heat bathed me with pleasure as it nuzzled against the pool of wet cream under my panties.
We stood together, kissing and fondling. I pressed his cock tight against my slit, and he fondled my breasts hard, squeezing puckered nipples into the see-through light bra cups. His cock slipped along my wet slit and then slowly repeated its happy journey.
"Ohhhh!" I said against his lips. "Ohhhhhh!' My body was suffused with pleasure as his cock caressed my pussy, his hands caressed my breasts and his tongue probed deep inside my mouth. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the multiple pleasures.
"I have to have it Mark!" I gasped.
His hands held my breasts tightly cupped as we parted enough for me to strip those restraining pantyhose from my legs. I pushed the tangled nylon into his pocket and stepped back into my heels so his cock would be closer to the same level as my waiting pussy.
I straightened up and guided it back between my legs. The blunt head teased the curly patch of hair, bumped against the soft flesh, then tucked between my pussy lips and became wet with my juices. We resumed our kiss, and the thrill of his cock against bare pussy shivered through my body.
"Ohhh, Beth, .. .. .. so .. good!"
"Yes, .. .. yes."
I stood on tiptoes trying to help him put it in. We urgently struggled to get it in, him jabbing strongly, me canting my hips to open to him. I pressed the head of it hard into the entry with trembling fingers, but the angle prevented us from coupling. My juices were creamy over his cock and my fingers urging him inside.
"Ohhh!" I cried out, "I want it!"
The head of his cock suddenly popped in, but again the angle kept him from what we wanted so badly. We were trembling with frustration in this awkward standing position. Both struggling with a need so great that it got in the way.
