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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Naughty Bill
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I really love Bill Clinton. I voted for him. I defend him against all
criticism. Even when I don't agree with some of his policies, I make
excuses for him. He is a naughty but beautiful child that I love
unconditionally. And I am an indulgent mother.
I am now fast approaching a tempting off-ramp. It is election year and I
have found a candidate that I like better. This independent candidate,
also a democrat, may be the better choice for president.
I can't ignore the spoiler concern. If neither Bill or my New Guy won,
all would be lost. The choice between Bill and the republican candidate
is a choice between Good and Evil. I have a conscience.
Spoiler aside, if Bill were no longer president, I would hardly ever get
to see him. I don't think I could be happy. I need to see him on television
occasionally in order to conjure his image for my fantasies.
These past several years have been greatly enriched for me by sexual
fantasies focusing on Mr. Bill Clinton. A good bit of these fantasies
involve his role as chief executive. If I recall my junior high social
studies correctly, the executive branch is the branch that carries out
the punishments. And if that is not correct, it should be.
During this past term as president and punishmeister, Bill would usually
resort to corporal punishment. As a citizen, I found myself repeatedly
in violation of Bill's many rules. And it seemed that Bill was always
the one to catch me in my naughtiness. If he didn't catch me, I would
feel compelled to confess on my own.
Every time I transgressed Bill would become enraged Livid, he would
order me to bend over the First Lap. Bill has a good salary and can afford
to buy a great many cheeseburgers. He has developed a large display of
protein over these past years at the White House.
It is known in first circles that Bill Clinton is closely related to a
certain clown named Ronald. I won't mention his last name, except to say
it is not Reagan. I can also say, without revealing identities, that Ronald
lives in a town in which the mayor's last name is McCheese. There have
been rumors that Bill may be in league with the hamburgler, against his
own family. This is so reminiscent of the rumors of Jack the Ripper
actually being a member of royalty. I discount both rumors.
Because of the First Spanker's lusty appetite, he has some big, meaty
hands. When Bill spanks, cheeks glisten. Oh, the sensation when BeeCee
lays his big flesh swollen hands upon my greedy buttcheeks. The pain
mingles with a healthy and moist desire.
Bill is a harsh and jealous executive. He sometimes notices that I am
receiving more pleasure than pain. This angers him, so he stops. Of
course, I keep many supplies on hand to satisfy his needs during this
lull in action.
And the President has his needs. In the kitchen I always have fresh
hoagie rolls. He doesn't mind if they are a day old. I can always pop
them into the microwave to freshen them up. I never let my cold cut
supply run short. There is plenty of ham, cappicola, cheese, salami and
low fat turkey.
He also loves grape soda and I always keep a case of grape soda on hand.
Spanking is thirsty work. Bill has sensuous pouty lips. When he speaks
publicly he often bites his lower lip for emphasis. When Bill drinks grape
soda, his pouty lips get a purplish tinge. The purpleness makes him look
so genital. It is hard to imagine there are not twenty Chelseas running
around the White House.
I know that Bill is not coming to me out of frustration. I don't believe
there is a woman alive that could say no to that burger eating
babe-o-licious Bill. Spanky gets something from me that he can't get at
home. I am able to provide my president with complete submission.
I know damn well that Hillary woundn't be caught dead bent over Bill's
lap, staring at the tattoo on his shin, while he slapped his sirloins on
her castrating buttocks. I am also quite sure that she doesn't go out at
midnight to the mini-mart when they run low on grape soda.
Bill doesn't have to tell me what he wants. I am always there for him. I
have never run from the long and meaty arm of his justice. He can have me,
body and soul. Its just my vote that is now in question.
I am torn between what is good for me and what is good for the country.
There is no room for compromise. Bill just would not be the same bag of
donuts if he was just Citizen Bill. Sure, there would still be the cream
filled center, and definitely the Crueller, if you know what I mean, but
the glazed would be absent. What's a dozen donuts without a couple of
glazed?
-Nancy Dunlap
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