1.2
Martha arrived in Washington DC and Michelle Obama welcomed her to the White House with a warm embrace. Martha closed her eyes and savored Michelle’s body pressed against hers.

MS: I need my bush trimmed.

MO: Do you mind of Barack watches? If he doesn’t see fresh pussy every day, he’ll be up to hijinks.

MS: But he must see a panoply of pussy on the road.

BO: That’s true, Martha. I do. But road pussy runs the gamut from gaggy to gourmet.

Martha slipped her jeans off, slid her black thong to her ankles, and exposed her pretty pussy.

BO: Now, that’s gourmet!

Murals of naked nympths covered the walls of the Oval Office and flavored vodkas, caviar, and red chandeliers set the mood for pussy pampering. Smoke billowed from Barack’s pipe as he reached into his presidential pjs.

MS: Michelle, you should visit my ranch in Connecticut. It’s in a picture-perfect leafy suburb.

Once Michelle finished sculpting a delicate landing strip for Martha’s love mound, Barack chimed in, “Picture perfect pussy.”

MS: Always with the pithy, made-for-bumper-stickers mantras.

BO: (laughed) That’s what I do!

MO: Women who grow out their armpit hair has become a popular trope in political speeches.

MS: Really? I was going to have you shave mine but I’ll let them grow and see if Ye likes them.

BO: That crazy fucker?

MS: He has a 12-inch cock.

A team of waitstaff in tuxedos prepared a luxurious brunch featuring Martha’s favorite: fleshy ribbons of mushrooms swimming in soy sauce.