Got Pole?
Title: Got Pole?
Subject: Josh/Donna
Rating: Mature
Timeframe: Post Bartlet Admin
Author's Note: Realistic for the First Lady's Chief of Staff? Maybe not. An amusing idea and an excuse to write smut? Check and check. So fuck you, realism; this is my submission for the fuckyoufication.
Josh felt the blindfold loosen and be pulled away, revealing the new addition to his bedroom. His eyes widened, and he tucked his chin as he starred at the thing. Donna was yammering something between an explanation and an excuse about needing to make time for herself and good exercise that was all the rage in Hollywood, but he only heard a little--“… a demonstration?”
“Huh?” If he’d heard that correctly, she had his full attention.
“Do you want a demonstration?”
“You have to ask?”
“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d object.” Donna paused and the stepped closer to him. “But first…” She slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off him before reaching for his belt and zipper. He stood silently, still in shock, while she undressed him. She led him to the bed and motioned for him to lay down. He was naked with his hands half tied to the headboard before he started to question what was happening.
“Donna-”
“Do you really think it’s wise, in this moment, for you to protest?” She tightened the knot on the scarf that had served as the blindfold and stood back. “Well, it seems I’m a bit overdressed now,” she lowered her voice and unbuttoned a few buttons on her blouse, revealing a black bra against her porcelain skin. He began to wonder if she had really worn that beneath a white shirt all day or if it were a part of a master plan here, but any sort of rational thought vanished when her thumbs hooked her underwear and slid them from beneath her skirt, giving his eyes a very decisive focal point once she hooked a leg around the pole.
He was mesmerized as she spun, slid, flipped, and twirled. He knew from experience that she was flexible, but he had know idea her body could move like that. A curtain of blond whipped around her face, smoldering and intense; Midwestern Donna, hanging off a pole as if she belonged in a strip joint instead of the First Lady’s office. For the grand finale, she somehow managed to remove her bra and throw it at him while still working the pole. He pulled against the restraint when instinct made him try to catch it before it landed on his chest, making him gasp a little at the contact to his body. Any desire he had for the show to continue was quickly extinguished by the promise of what was to come as she stepped out of her skirt and crawled naked up the bed to him.
She straddled his abdomen and tossed the bra off his chest, replacing it with licks and kisses. He could do nothing but watch her mouth working, her tongue swirling, her breast bobbing. She rocked backwards, and he groaned when her ass grazed his erection. She knew exactly what she was doing. She delicately peppered her movements with such brushes and closed her eyes, massaging her own breasts, those soft, beautiful orbs. He flexed his legs because it was the only thing he could do with the energy coursing through him. When her hand slid down her stomach to find a place between her legs, it was almost more than he could take. He longed to touch her, to caress her body. He longed to take her. But this time, she was going to take him.
He could feel her wetness forming on his stomach before she finally moved backwards and settled herself, guiding him inside her. She gave him a vixen look and shook her head to toss her hair back, knowing he was completely powerless. He wondered how long she was just going to sit there, motionless, taunting him to the brink. His head tipped back when she finally began moving her entire body up and down on him. He felt almost drunk but forced his head forward again so that he could watch her. He needed to watch her. She was still caressing her own breasts, pulling her own nipples, her fingers doing the job he wished his mouth could. He couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling back, and she must have known he was close to coming because again her hand dipped down between her thighs but this time lingered longer to catch herself up.
He released with a moan, and she stilled her body and then her hand. After a moment she opened her eyes, him still inside her. “I take it you like the pole?”
Subject: Josh/Donna
Rating: Mature
Timeframe: Post Bartlet Admin
Author's Note: Realistic for the First Lady's Chief of Staff? Maybe not. An amusing idea and an excuse to write smut? Check and check. So fuck you, realism; this is my submission for the fuckyoufication.
Josh felt the blindfold loosen and be pulled away, revealing the new addition to his bedroom. His eyes widened, and he tucked his chin as he starred at the thing. Donna was yammering something between an explanation and an excuse about needing to make time for herself and good exercise that was all the rage in Hollywood, but he only heard a little--“… a demonstration?”
“Huh?” If he’d heard that correctly, she had his full attention.
“Do you want a demonstration?”
“You have to ask?”
“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d object.” Donna paused and the stepped closer to him. “But first…” She slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off him before reaching for his belt and zipper. He stood silently, still in shock, while she undressed him. She led him to the bed and motioned for him to lay down. He was naked with his hands half tied to the headboard before he started to question what was happening.
“Donna-”
“Do you really think it’s wise, in this moment, for you to protest?” She tightened the knot on the scarf that had served as the blindfold and stood back. “Well, it seems I’m a bit overdressed now,” she lowered her voice and unbuttoned a few buttons on her blouse, revealing a black bra against her porcelain skin. He began to wonder if she had really worn that beneath a white shirt all day or if it were a part of a master plan here, but any sort of rational thought vanished when her thumbs hooked her underwear and slid them from beneath her skirt, giving his eyes a very decisive focal point once she hooked a leg around the pole.
He was mesmerized as she spun, slid, flipped, and twirled. He knew from experience that she was flexible, but he had know idea her body could move like that. A curtain of blond whipped around her face, smoldering and intense; Midwestern Donna, hanging off a pole as if she belonged in a strip joint instead of the First Lady’s office. For the grand finale, she somehow managed to remove her bra and throw it at him while still working the pole. He pulled against the restraint when instinct made him try to catch it before it landed on his chest, making him gasp a little at the contact to his body. Any desire he had for the show to continue was quickly extinguished by the promise of what was to come as she stepped out of her skirt and crawled naked up the bed to him.
She straddled his abdomen and tossed the bra off his chest, replacing it with licks and kisses. He could do nothing but watch her mouth working, her tongue swirling, her breast bobbing. She rocked backwards, and he groaned when her ass grazed his erection. She knew exactly what she was doing. She delicately peppered her movements with such brushes and closed her eyes, massaging her own breasts, those soft, beautiful orbs. He flexed his legs because it was the only thing he could do with the energy coursing through him. When her hand slid down her stomach to find a place between her legs, it was almost more than he could take. He longed to touch her, to caress her body. He longed to take her. But this time, she was going to take him.
He could feel her wetness forming on his stomach before she finally moved backwards and settled herself, guiding him inside her. She gave him a vixen look and shook her head to toss her hair back, knowing he was completely powerless. He wondered how long she was just going to sit there, motionless, taunting him to the brink. His head tipped back when she finally began moving her entire body up and down on him. He felt almost drunk but forced his head forward again so that he could watch her. He needed to watch her. She was still caressing her own breasts, pulling her own nipples, her fingers doing the job he wished his mouth could. He couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling back, and she must have known he was close to coming because again her hand dipped down between her thighs but this time lingered longer to catch herself up.
He released with a moan, and she stilled her body and then her hand. After a moment she opened her eyes, him still inside her. “I take it you like the pole?”