An Honest Politician

On most days, Rachel Levy didn't have to think about the fact that her husband was the host of one of the biggest talk radio shows in the country. On most days, she'd just go to the clinic and have a very normal day treating patients without having to deal with anything he said. But there are days when he brings her up on the show, referring to his "doctor wife" and telling his listeners about some conversation that they had. And on those days, she feels a flush of embarrassment, and steels herself for at least a week of being teased by her staff and some of her patients.

The thing is, Ken only ever brings her up in the context of his views about sex and relationships, holding their coupling up as an example of a healthy marriage. She is inevitably mentioned whenever there is a story in the news cycle that offends his sensibilities as a devout Christian man. And so, he ends up talking about their sex life publicly. And even if he never really says anything particularly salacious, even if all that he really says is that their version of intimacy is superior to whatever manifestation of hypersexuality is currently being paid attention to by the public, Rachel is still mortified any time he brings up his "doctor wife." These things, she felt, should never really be talked about.

And on that day, on the drive to her clinic, she heard her husband talking about a new hip hop song by a female artist, one that featured lyrics about her genitalia being really wet. They talked about it last night, and she had joked that the rapper was probably infected with something that caused that voluminous discharge. And now, Ken was referring to her doctor wife, reporting to his public that his doctor wife said that the rapper was sick with something.

Humor was never his strong suit. Rachel braced herself for the awkwardness of the day, for all the cracks that people will make both online and off. She told him before that she wasn't really comfortable with their private life being aired out, but she knew by now that to Ken, nothing was really off-limits as long as it helped his arguments.

She felt a slight wave of relief when Ken finally moved on from the topic, shifting his focus to some congressman who had spent the week touring Memphis, helping campaign for a local liberal candidate. She's heard her husband rant about this congressman before, this Trask from Illinois, and at least part of her was hoping that Ken would get worked up enough to say something truly outrageous, if only to draw the attention away from her today.

He was in the middle of a particularly heated point about what Trask represented when she pulled into the parking lot of her clinic. She switched the radio off, and quietly hoped to herself that none of her patients listened to this morning's show.

***

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief as her last patient for the day strode out the door. of her office She had gotten through the day without much incident, though it did seem to her that Mrs. Strode really wanted to bring it up, but just couldn't find a way to do it. She still felt tense as she gathered up her things, eager to head home.

"Excuse me, Dr. Levy?" Her receptionist Josh stood at the doorway, holding a file folder. "You have one more patient waiting."

"I thought we were done," she said.

"I thought so, too," Josh said. "The truth is, I screwed up listing down an appointment. The patient's already here."

This seemed strange to her. Josh wasn't the type to screw up. The handsome young man had always kept her schedule in order.

"I'm sorry Dr. Levy."

"It's okay, Josh. Let's just get through this."

Josh handed her the folder and went to fetch the patient. Rachel was just putting down her bag again when he walked in.

"Thank you for seeing me, Doctor."

"Yes, well," she said with an audible hint of annoyance. She opened up the file and looked through his information. "What seems to be the problem, Mr..."

"Trask," he replied. "And I'm just here for a checkup."

"Trask," she repeated, unable to hide the recognition. "You're the congressman."

"The same," he said. "You might have heard that I've been traveling around Memphis this last week. I've been meeting a lot of people, and my staff thought it would be prudent to get a routine checkup. You never know what you might be encountering when you're out campaigning."

"That might be overly prudent, if you don't mind me saying. You seem perfectly healthy, based on your file."

"Well, I figure I went through all the trouble of helping pass universal healthcare," he said with a smirk. "Might as well use it."

Rachel resisted showing any reaction. She pulled out her stethoscope and started to rush through the standard examination.

"I'm sorry, doctor," he said. "I couldn't resist pushing your buttons."

"I don't know what you mean," she said icily.

"I know who your husband is."

She froze for a second, but recovered. "I don't see what that's got to do with anything."

"Well, maybe it's just me, but I wouldn't call this good bedside manner."

"I'm a medical professional," she shot back. "To imply that I'm being anything less than that is an insult, Mr. Trask, and I'd be more than happy to let you just walk out of here."

"Take it easy, Dr. Levy," he said. "You know, I heard the show this morning."

Rachel felt a flush creeping up her neck.

"That's when I decided I really needed to see you," he continued.

She gritted her teeth. "I don't feel comfortable talking about this."

"No," he said firmly. "The truth is you've been wanting to talk about this with someone all day."

Her initial reaction was indignance. How dare this man tell her want she wants? But as the words sunk in, she realized that was in fact the truth. She felt this deep desire to share what she's been feeling, and she remembered having to keep herself from just blurting out her feelings to her patients.

"The truth is," he continued, "there's no need to be embarrassed. The truth is that you can confide in me."

The tension of the day left her all at once, the creeping flush retreating. She looked at this man, this virtual stranger, and she felt deep inside her that he could be trusted with whatever she had to say.

"I was joking," she said.

"About what?"

"When Ken and I were talking about that song. I was joking about that rapper having some sort of sickness."

"So you don't think that having a wet pussy is the result of an infection?"

"Of course not," she said. "I'm a doctor, and I'm perfectly aware of the systems that result in healthy vaginal discharge."

"Well that's good to know," he said.

"Of course, the song is hyperbolic," she said. "And it wouldn't be natural to experience what they're talking about."

"Well I don't about that," he said.

"Don't be absurd," she replied. "I just wish Ken wouldn't talk about this stuff on air. I mean, I do agree with him most of the time, but I don't like getting roped into these arguments."

"Does your husband satisfy you sexually, Dr. Levy?" he asked suddenly, his deep voice giving the question unsettling weight.

She felt that she could trust him, but she still struggled to answer the question.

"The truth is you want to be completely open with me."

And this was true, she realized, her hesitation just dissipating as his words registered. "I don't really know," she admitted.

"What do you mean by that?"

She gave this some thought. "I mean...when people talk about sex, they talk about it like it's supposed to be an incredible experience. Ken's the only person I've been with, and sex with him isn't unpleasant. I think I have a nice time with him in bed. But if I'm being honest, I have no other experiences to compare him with. This is all I've ever known of sex."

She felt an odd sense of relief saying that out loud. She'd always felt it, some part of her wondering if sex could be more than just perfectly fine. But she never thought it was her place to ask Ken if they could try something, a general sense of shame keeping her from trying anything kinkier than missionary. After all, they were an upstanding, religious couple in the public eye. It wouldn't do to explore the perversions of the modern world.

"It feels good to be honest, doesn't it?" he asked, noticing the weight that seemed to have been lifted from her shoulders.

"Yes," she said. "Thank you. I don't know what I can really do about it, but it feels good to have said it."

"Well," he said, "I have a couple of ideas." He said this with a gravity that gave Rachel pause. It occurred to her then that he had some sort of power over her, his presence somehow causing her to act differently. Some part of her realized that the trust she was affording him wasn't rational, and this gave rise to a level of concern.

"The truth is," he began, and her concerns didn't really matter any more.

***

Ken Levy was a little agitated when he got home. Some snarky Twitter users were roasting him online for his rant about that song. He spent a little extra time at the office tracking the reaction, relishing in the attention while simultaneously fuming about all the things they were implying.

They're perverts, he decided. Perverts who were willfully misconstruing what he was saying, which was just a fact: that vaginas that discharge enough liquid to require extra tools for cleanup were likely infected. He spent a good long while working on the next day's script, making sure that he couldn't be misunderstood.

He walked into an unusually quiet house, missing all the signs of activity that would indicate that a family of four lived there.

"Rachel? I'm home."

His wife came down the stairs to greet him. She was dressed in a silky cream nightgown that he hadn't seen in years.

"Where are the kids?"

"They're with my parents," she replied as she threw her arms around him. "I've been waiting for you."

"Yeah I'm sorry. I had to work on tomorrow's show."

"Well, you're here now. Come up to the bedroom. I've got a surprise for you."

"Rachel, what is this?" he asked, wondering if he had forgotten something.

"You'll see," she said, gently pulling on his hand. Ken understood that his wife was signalling that they were going to be intimate tonight, but this was all very strange to him. This kind of thing had never happened in this house before, any sort of sexuality confined to a certain time of night, when they were both in bed, feeling some need to fulfill their marital obligations. This was all running through his head as he watched his Rachel practically prance away, moving with a lightness that felt unfamiliar.

She turned back to him. "Come on, Ken," she said with a pout. "Just play along for tonight."

He gave in, and let Rachel lead him up the bedroom. There were candles lit, and soft music playing. She pulled on his lapels and drew his face close. She kissed him deeply, and he was surprised by the vigor with which her tongue traversed his mouth.

"Strip," she said suddenly. Though he still had apprehensions about the way his wife was acting, he quickly decided that could all be dealt with later. He quickly got out of his clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor. She gestured into the room toward a heavy wooden chair that he recognized from the dining room.

"Sit," she commanded. And he did. She got on the bed, and slowly let her nightgown fall off of her, beginning with one strap, then the other, his wife moving such that the fabric would slowly inch down her body, as if melting right off of her.

She moved toward him with obvious intent, a heat that couldn't be denied. She straddled him and kissed him again, running her fingers through his dark hair, before pulling on it.

The pain registered on his face, but she ignored it. She kept pulling as she drew away, and as she got off of him. She circled around him, one hand still applying pressure to his locks.

"Rachel, I don't if I like..."

She shushed him as she continued to move around him. She settled behind him, and finally let go his hair. She brought her mouth close to his ear and whispered, "don't move." She started nibbling on his earlobe, and moved down to lay a line of aggressive kisses down his neck. In spite of himself, Ken felt a wave of pleasure rock through his body.

She reached for his right hand and pulled it toward her, snaking it through the gaps in the back of the chair. "Touch me," she instructed. He fumbled blindly with his hand behind him, looking for her pussy. As he did this, she reached for his other hand and pulled it through another gap in the back.

"I can't quite..." he started, and that's when he felt the clap of metal against his wrists, and heard a cold click.

Instinctively, Ken started to struggle against the handcuffs, trying to pull himself out from the chair. But the heavy oak didn't give.

"Be careful, Ken. I wouldn't want you to fall over."

"Rachel what is this?"

She smiled at him. "Do you remember me telling you that I wasn't comfortable being brought up on your show?"

"What?" he said sharply.

"You've been a bad boy, Ken. I'm punishing you."

"This is absurd. Let me out of this right now, Rachel."

"Now, now, dear. Just relax, and I think you might enjoy this." She turned to the door. "You can come in now."

A naked, slender blonde woman walked into the room. She looked to be in her twenties, and had a body that made Ken catch his breath.

"W-who are you?" he managed.

"This is Lindsay," Rachel said. "I met her earlier, and she had a lot to teach me about women's bodies."

Lindsay approached Rachel wordlessly and got on the bed with her. The two kissed with a urgency that startled the handcuffed Ken, their hands roaming freely over each other's bodies.

They both turned to him and smiled. "Enjoying the show?" Rachel said.

Ken forced himself to settle down, to snap out of this sexual haze and take some control of the situation. He composed himself, and made an effort to speak in a neutral tone. "I imagine there are some husbands who fantasize about this kind of thing, but you know me, Rachel. I have been very satisfied with our sex life, and I don't think this kind of thing is for us."

"Well I haven't been satisfied, Ken."

"I don't believe you. We've been together for so long, and you haven't said anything."

"As you know, dear, it's can very hard to get you to listen."

As she said that, she turned her whole body to face him. She sat back and spread her legs wide, displaying the dark curls that lined her pussy.

She stared at him. "I want to show you what I learned today."

"Given how you're acting, I don't think I have any interest in anything you've 'learned.'"

"I was wrong, you see. It turns out I can get really messy down here."

"What are you talking about?"

"You'll see."

Lindsay got beside Rachel and started gently stroking the outside of her pussy. Rachel's breathing got progressively heavy as the blonde's agile fingers danced around her most intimate parts. Then, she eased a middle finger in, slowly pushing in and out, each stroke revealing more of her creamy arousal. She added her ring finger, and then seemed to angle her hand slightly upwards. She paused for acknowledge from Rachel, who gave an eager nod.

With that, Lindsay pressed her palm close against Rachel's vagina, and then started a vigorous up-and-down motion. The sound of moist flesh filled the room, only to be drowned out by Rachel's increasingly desperate moans.

"Oh god, I'm coming," she screamed, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. Lindsay withdrew her hand, and a fountain of clear liquid ejected from Rachel's engorged pussy.

Ken sat speechless, completely overwhelmed by his wife's wanton display. Lindsay moved to cradle Rachel's head, and lovingly stroked her hair as she came down from her high.

"You see?" Rachel said through labored breathing. "That's a wet ass pussy."

The two women laughed. Ken had trouble processing what was happening. It was just so outside the realm of their experiences as a couple. He saw himself as a traditional husband: the head of the family; someone who took charge in every situation. But here he was, feeling small, feeling humiliated. And what made it worse that he could recognize that all this sexual stimuli was having an affect on him, and despite all the internal horror he was harboring, his body was reacting in a rather predictable way. His cock was rock hard, and felt just about ready to burst.

Rachel looked straight through him. "I knew you were enjoying this. Would you like Lindsay to help take care of you?"

Ken didn't answer. Lindsay strode toward him and dropped to her knees. She had a hungry look on her face, and seemed to regard his cock like it was her next meal.

"You just have to say yes, Ken," Rachel said.

"Y-y-yes," he stuttered out.

Lindsay gingerly placed her hand around his cock, and Ken felt everything that he's been holding inside him release. His cock exploded, an impressive stream of cum launching itself practically across the room. A second convulsion released a more reasonable amount of seed, much of it landing on Lindsay's face. Ken growled at the uncontrollable sensation, his entire body stiffening up and directing all of his senses to whatever was going on around his member.

Through the ringing in his ears, he heard Rachel laughing. His vision came back just as Rachel knelt down in front of him, examining the aftermath.

"I'm so disappointed, Ken," she said as she poked at his deflated cock. "You weren't supposed to come that quickly."

Ken could only wince as his still-sensitive cock was prodded.

"It's just as well," she continued. "We've been having sex for so long, and it's never really been that good with this thing."

She looked up him, staring daggers.

"We might as well just lock it up."

Lindsay was suddenly beside her, producing a shiny piece of curved metal in her hands. Rachel grabbed, and maneuvered it around his genitals.

"Wait," Ken said. "What are you doing?"

Rachel looked up at him again, and smiled as the device clicked into place. He felt the weight of it as the metal clanked down on the seat of the chair.

Before he could protest, Lindsay slipped a ball gag into his mouth, and strapped it tight behind him. Panic quickly set in as Ken realized how helpless he was.

"You're going to sit there, Ken, and you're going to think about what you did."

Ken barely whimpered through the gag.

"And you're going to watch me and Lindsay get fucked."

It was then that Ken noticed two men standing in the doorway. One, he immediately recognized as Josh from Rachel's clinic. He was stripped down to his boxers, which did not do much to hide his formidable erection. The other was a well-built black man in a robe. He felt familiar, but his identity didn't immediately register through the muddle of emotions that Ken was going through.

It took a good long moment, but it finally came to him. It was the congressman. It was Trask.

Some of his fear turned into unbridled rage. He didn't know how, exactly, but he was certain that Trask was the root of all this, that this political scourge was wholly responsible for the wrecking of his happy marriage.

Trask smirked at Ken from the bed, where Rachel was enthusiastically sucking the congressman's cock.

***

They had been at it for an hours, and it didn't look like it was going to end anytime soon. Ken witnessed his wife being fucked in all manner of positions and permutations. He watched her take Josh up her ass, her face twisting into expressions of ecstasy that he previously never could have imagine as the cock drove deeper into her anus. He saw her getting used to the sensation, and inviting the congressman to take another hole.

He watched her eat Lindsay out, savoring the taste of the young woman's pussy, really taking to the Sapphic arts. He had no choice but to listen to her berate him as she bounced on Trask's formidable member, taunting him for never making her feel as good as she did in that moment. And she told him about how Josh would be a regular part of their life now, how he would be the one fulfilling her newfound desires. Josh, on his part, had no objections.