President Barrack Obama stewed in the Oval Office late one Friday night. Frazzled about the country’s impending decision over his job, he kept running over numbers from various focus groups and demographics as he wearily tried to figure out if he was missing any key voters before Election Day. Drained, he decided to call it a night and closed his binder, but just then the door opened. Stunned, Obama turned to see none other than his opposition and Republican candidate, Mitt Romney, standing in the door.
“Hey there; you’re looking well, Mr. President.”
“You too, governor, what are you here for?”
“Don’t play hard to get; you know exactly why I’m here.”
As soon as Romney let those words leave his lips he and the president each took three quick strides towards each other and collapsed on the floor in a sloppy, homoerotic, interracial make out session that would make anyone’s grandparents vomit with rage.
Mitt worked his mouth down the president’s wrinkled shirt and unbuckled his belt with his teeth as Obama reciprocated the action.
“Happy birthday, Mr. President.”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“Then why are we about to party like it is?”
Simultaneously and instinctively they took one another’s Anthony Weiners and jammed it in their respective mouths in a beautiful bipartisan display. They had turned the Oval Office into the Oral Office in no less than two minutes. Although not members of the Tea Party, the two candidates proceeded to do their share of tea bagging as waves of pleasure washed over them.
Romney was trying to hold on for a few more moments, but it was not use. He accidentally thought about how little he paid in taxes as took the First Penis out of his mouth and with urgency in his voice hollered, “Do you want it in your mouth or on your face?”
“What,” replied Obama, taking the governor’s Dick Nixon out of his mouth.
“Well, I figured since you’re pro-choice I’d give you the option.”
Without words Obama took some affirmative action and let that hot, billionaire cream hit him in the face. By the time it was over the president looked like he had been in an explosion at a whiteout factory.
Romney, being a gentleman, reached in his coat pocket and pulled out several wads of cash and one Chinese baby that he gave to the president to clean himself up.
“Talk about a loaded question,” Obama said through a laugh.
“Oh, you’re so bad.”
“Quit your filibustering and let me fill you, buster.” Obama stated as he aggressively bent Romney over the desk and mounted him from behind. “Oh, yes, we can,” Obama said to himself before he penetrated Romney’s rear cave like it was in Pakistan and his member was a member of SEAL Team Six.
With furious thrusts Barrack began to rock the desk and initiated ass-warfare on much more than just the top one-percent of Romney’s pooper.
The sex was short-lived, but powerful and Obama let freedom ring after a few thorough thrusts resulting in the president emptying, a much more eco-friendly, Exxon Valdez-esque load into Romney’s dumper. Exhausted the two collapsed onto the floor in an embrace.
Predictable, the president soon sparked up a post-coital cigarette while Romney began counting the money in his wallet to wind down, but not before letting a little bit of Santorum leak out of his strip mine and onto the Oval Office’s carpet.