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From: Amazi Zama <the.real.amazizama@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Five Minute Interview (FF+, Beast, Scat, WS, Reluc, Voyuer, Celebreties, First Story)
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Date: Sat, 24 Mar 2012 07:10:04 -0400
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The Five Minute Interview  (FF+, Beast, Scat, WS, Reluc, Voyuer,
Political/Historical)

On a lark, I posted an offer to write a story based on three things
submitted by the readers of an erotic stories Reddit, a community on a
social link sharing site, as per my post at
http://www.reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/r7dwo/what_would_you_like_in_a_story/
This is what those perverts suggested and I happiled complied.

It is my first erotic story in about twenty years.  Please let me know
if you like it and what else you would like to see! :)

Cheers,
Amazizama
the.real.amazizama@gmail.com


(c) 2012 by the *nom de plume* Amazizama.  Licensed through the
Attribution-ShareAlike Creative Commons license (http://
creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/).


===============================
   The Five Minute Interview
===============================


It's been fourteen years and I've never told a soul about this until
now.  Not that it matters much; they wouldn't have believed me and you
probably won't either.  But, it's true.  I was there and I saw it with
my own eyes.  To this day, I still am awakened at night from
nightmares of it.  And, when those tight-lipped memories bubble into
my subconscious, they share as much with wet dreams as nightmares.
But, I digress.  Let me start from the beginning.

It was the winter of 1997 and I had just moved to D.C. with my first
husband, Lee, during that summer.  We had finished our undergraduate
degrees at Texas A&M, me with Journalism and Lee with Pre-Law, and Lee
had been admitted into Georgetown's Law program.  The plan, ill-fated
though it was, was for me to get a job as a journalist to help pay for
Lee's tuition while he "invested in our future".

I was young, twenty-two at the time, a native Texan so
constitutionally a greenhorn about the District that I believed my
husband and I would have an easier time as an interracial couple there
than at College Station.  In all my youthful enthusiasm I honestly
thought I would easily land a job at a major rag, maybe even the
Post.  After all, I had graduated Summa Cum Laude and was involved in
all kinds of "filler" for my CV.  It should have been a cinch.

Needless to say, I spent the first three months getting a lesson in
what the old boy network in D.C. thinks about Southerners, especially
Southern women.  By the time Lee was registering for Winter term, we
were dipping way too deeply into our savings and I needed a job.  With
dejection growing frighteningly familiar, I tried the unthinkable to
my recently emancipated mind: the college paper.

The then-editor of The Hoya took a liking to me for all the wrong
reasons and hired me as his Assistant Copywriter, which essentially
meant that I'd do the writing that he that was interested in but was
too lazy to write himself.  Although I was thankful to get the job,
this seemed like a downgrade from life in College Station and after a
few days the editor, with his preternatural scrutiny of my every mood
and curve, picked up on this and decided to play the friend.

"What if I told you that I've got the inside scoop on the biggest
story of next year," he said, feigning breathlessness.

"I'd say you like to tell what we call 'Tall Tales'," as I smiled
courteously and suppressed my eyes rolling.

"Oh, this is the tallest of them all, honey," he continued, "and yet
it's the genuine article, if you get the pun."

I coughed out a laugh.

His voice hushed to a whisper and he leaned uncomfortably close,
"President Clinton's errant cock has caught up with him.  The word up
the street is that he's been having an affair with a White House
intern and this isn't going Gennifer Flowers, either.  He's made
plenty of enemies and they intend to put him under a rock for this
one."

Well, now this was interesting.  If it was true, of course.  Maybe
you'll remember that a lot of folks were nodding their heads and
saying "duh" when they heard news.  It wasn't like it was out of
character for our President.

"I'm in.  What's the scoop?"

"Hon', I don't know all the details yet," as his grin broadened, "but,
that's what you're getting paid for.  What I can give you is a damn
good lead.  None other than Hillary Clinton herself is coming to
Georgetown to give a speech tomorrow and I want you to try to find out
some details about what's going on in her personal life.  She knows
about this and the coming shit-storm for sure!"

"Wait, you want me to follow her?"

"Don't be an idiot, Sheri.  She's got Secret Service and all that
crap.  I've gotten her PR person to agree to you interviewing her for
five minutes afterwards."

"Holy shit!""

He looked happier than a Jersey bull sucked off by Dolly Parton, "Now,
look, you can't go and ask her directly about anything because we're
not supposed to know.  But, what I need you to do is get inside her
skin and see if they're worried.  This bigger than just an article.
There are... people... who want to know.  Anyways, it doesn't matter.
Can you interview her?  Ask her some crap and probe how she's doing?"

"Y-Yes... of course!" I tried blustering over my embarrassment and
genuine nerves, "It's no big deal.  I minored in Psychology.  I should
be able to read her like a book."

"Uh-huh," he dipped and smiled, "you just get over to the Columbia
room at fifteen of two tomorrow and make it happen.  Got it?"

I quickly nodded and mumbled affirmatively.

"Remember, you can't let on that you know.  I've been assured you'll
have time up close with her, at least a couple minutes worth."

  *   *   *   *

I watched the seconds hand tick upwards on the wall clock, ticking
each step of the way.  2:16.  Christ, lady, how long are you going to
be in there.

Her handlers told me that she needed to take a personal call and would
be with me as soon as she was done.  I hadn't so much as seen her and
my nervous bladder was becoming dangerously full, though I didn't dare
move an inch from my seat.  I was going to get this story, come hell
or highwater.


"...so you can meet here then?  Downstairs?  Alright, give me a few.
Yep, OK.  Bye,"  Hillary said as she stepped out from behind the door,
looking distractedly at the ceiling as she walked and clicking her
phone shut with a decisive clack as she fixed her gaze on me.  And,
the performance began.


"So, you're Cherry?" she intoned, extending her flecked hand as her
cheeks blossomed into a convincing, many-ringed imitation of a smile.
This was before Botox, after all.


"Yes, Ma'am, 'Sheri'," I corrected as gently as was humanly possible,
"I'm here from The Hoya to ask a couple questions about your speech."


"OK, great.  Do you mind if we walk and talk?" she pretended as she
briskly stepped towards the hallway,
"I've got to meet someone in a bit and can't be late."


"Of course!" I hurriedly followed along with my Montblanc and pad
clutched in hand,
"Could you tell me about your plans for promoting SCHIP in 1998?"


"You know, we've got many things planned, um, hold on a moment," she
turned to the two Secret Service men shadowing us and added,
"Guys, I'm going to need about thirty minutes.  RP at the driver?"

There was a long pause as if there was an inaudible sentence and then
the two men in black said in unison,
"Yes, Ms Clinton.  Understood."

They disappeared behind us and we walked silently for what felt like
minutes when she suddenly continued,
"Anyways, if we're going to make it a reality for ten years it will
take bi-partisan support.  So, of course I will need..."

Her phone buzzed in a strange rhythmic pulse, almost like a code.


"I'm sorry, I've got to take this."

We continued walking as she turned away from me to answer.


"Uh-huh.  Yeah.  Okay.  No, I like that a lot.  Uh-huh.  Sounds like
fun.  It's got to be fast though.  Wait, could you hold on just a
second?"

Suddenly she stopped and with simulated embarrassment she turned back
to me and covered the mouthpiece of her phone.


"I'm sorry, Sheryl, but could you wait here for a moment?  There's
someone who has something for me down here.  It won't take long.
Write some notes or something."

I was helpless to protest as she opened a nondescript brown door and
stepped through, shutting it softly behind her.  I bit my lip and
crossed my legs, my bladder directing my thoughts to where a bathroom
might be.  As I looked around, I heard a slight squeaking sound and
stared as the brown door leaked open, spilling a faint light up from
its contents.

I waited silently for a moment and, hearing the faint echo of the
First Lady talking on her phone, I edged suspiciously towards the
door.  It beckoned now, stopping a full inch open, allowing me to see
that behind it were metal stairs leading downwards.  As I bent towards
the door, my hand almost unconsciously reaching for its handle with my
heart pounding, I could almost make out what she was saying.


"You know what it requires... I know it to will be enjoyable... He had
his fun, let's have ours..."

And, then, like a beam of light, I heard another woman's voice,
"I'm ready to begin.  We've got a wait ahead and the sooner we start
the better."

Without a clue who was down there with her, my hand, slippery with
sweat, pulled the door open ever so gently and, refusing to let my
brain think it through, I stepped stealthily into the stairwell.  And,
to this day I don't know what the hell I was thinking.

Hillary spoke,
"When Bill left here in '68 he knew big things were in store for him,
just like Barry feels over in Chicago.  But, we can't forget what
we're really about.  That clown John Paul's time will be up soon and
the families will be one again with a new Duce at the head."


"Barry's ready for that.  I'm ready, too.  I accept the rite and all
that it entails."

Who was this other person Hillary was talking to?  I crept down the
stairs as slowly as I could until I could just begin to make out her
face.  Her strong, even manly black features balanced mischievous
feminine eyes that switch from stunning to withering in a
temperamental instant.  I'd learn several days later that this was
Michelle Obama.

Hillary cleared her throat and produced a small, yellowed book from
her coat pocket and, drawing a deep breath, began reading in a solemn,
serious voice.


"In 1430 our Endless Mother, Joan d'Arc, was accused of mating with
Dunois' donkey, among other blasphemies.  The fraudulent church of
course could not understand the ritual of Saturn and so wanted to
squash it, even though it secretly arose from their very own pope's
perverted sacredness.  This honor, this privilege of uniting Heaven
and Earth remains to the sisterhood even today."

WHAT?!  I gasped and felt for a moment like I was going to pass out
while trying to process this unprocessable information.  Were they
pausing?  Had they heard me?  Fear numbed my panic as I steadied
myself on the railing and waited, desperately hoping they would
continue, uninterrupted.


"Sister Michelle, the Seven Starred House was come to meet with yours
today.  We have brought the Golden Ass, as has been ordained.  Prove
your submission to greater path of the Order and in this moment wed
the donkey with your gifts."

It was then that my stupefaction cleared sufficiently for me to see
that Michelle was wearing a long, light brown robe, several shades
lighter than her own chocolate tone.  The robe had a silver fringe and
lowered hood and, with me more in shock than had I been abducted by
aliens, she pulled the robe cord open and stepped smoothly into pure
nakedness as the robe fell behind her.

Her supple, muscular body stood erect, her pear-like breasts
attenuated with her gaze, which was directed at something just out of
sight.  Past the point of no return, I lowered myself downward,
scooting a couple stairs until I saw something I had not seen since
College Point, a gray Cypriot Donkey.

Hillary led the donkey to Michelle with a silver-looking rope attached
to his tack.  It was easy to see that the donkey was a
"he"; the donkey had an enormous grey and white penis longer than its
ears sticking out between his furry legs.

Now, growing up in Texas, I've seen plenty of animal cocks and they
don't just go sticking out unless there is a female animal of their
kind around or they've been specially trained to breed, like for
artificial insemination.  This donkey, with his hard cock easily as
long and thick as my whole arm had been trained for sex and what
happened next made that doubly clear.

Michelle put her forehead to the donkey's and cooed, scratching his
ears before sidling along him and kneeling, her sable hands massaging
his rear leg in circles that inched towards his cock.


"Hurry, Michelle.  There's more to the ritual and little time."

Ms Obama didn't look up at Hillary, but nodded and smoothly stroked
her hands across the beast's leg to his massive, curved shaft.  She
gripped the donkey's huge member with both her hands together and
milked it forwards towards the glans.  The donkey's eyes blinked
rapidly and Michelle, without hesitation, bent her face towards the
donkey dick, opened her mouth very wide, and began licking and sucking
on the pulsing head of his cock, still stroking his giant root.

Hillary meanwhile removed her pantsuit and stepped into some kind of
metallic shorts with complex silver and golden patterns.  Attached to
the front of these shiny bloomers was a large but short, tawny white
cock made from what looked like ivory.  Hillary dipped her hand into a
metal bowl of oil and liberally coated her artificial phallus.


"Let Heaven and Earth meet and the animal and divine again reign in
passionate, frothing ecstasy," she incanted as she got behind
Michelle, who was on all fours as she continued to ardently give the
donkey head and a handjob.

With an
"amen" from both women, Hillary pushed the ivory cock into Michelle's
frizzy pussy and Michelle stopped sucking just long enough to emit a
moan before she returned, smiling now, to felating the donkey.
Hillary looked down with unabashed pleasure as she fucked her
initiate, writhing in pleasure as the donkey's slippery pre-cum began
to drip from Michelle's dilated lips.

I'm not proud of what happened next.  In fact, I'm very ashamed of it
and I wish it wasn't part of the story.  But, when I decided to tell
the world about what happened, I determined then to state the whole
truth and not leave anything out.  Even the most embarrassing parts.

I've had a lot of time to think about it and I think I was extremely
sexually repressed when this all happened.  Lee and I hadn't fucked in
weeks and growing up Southern Baptist the only thing worse than
fucking was dancing.  I'm not saying it as an excuse, but keep in mind
that I was, I think, more horny during that winter than probably any
other period of my life.  And, we all know, Bill Clinton included,
that being horny can affect one's judgment.

Point being, I was in such shock seeing the extremely lewd acts in
front of me that I hadn't even noticed that my right hand had strayed
to between my legs and down my panties.  My knee-length skirt was
hiked carelessly to the side and my fingers pressed hard on my pubis
as I slid my fingertips up and down across my slippery clit and
sopping pussy lips.

I may have been even more surprised by the sight of my finger fucking
myself to such obscenity than the otherworldly scene in front of me.
But, I couldn't stop.  And, even if I could, I didn't want to.  My
hand thrusted up and down between my legs and I arched forward,
beginning to cum as Hillary quickened the pace of her fucking Michelle
and both women sung their ecstatic rite.

Just as I reached my orgasmic tipping point, strong, large hands
gripped each arm and literally lifted me off the seat of the stairs
and started downstairs!  I yelled instinctively, but one of the brutes
stuffed a musky soft fabric into my mouth and I could only procure a
muffled objection.

Then, to my abject horror and yet indescribably relief, I peed myself
in front of the two woman as my captors reached the bottom of the
stairs.  My face flushed with fiery embarrassment as I felt the hot,
wet piss stream all over my legs and ass, soaking my skirt and
dripping on to my flats.

When I opened my eyes, both women and the donkey were in the same
gyrating sexual dance and the two Secret Service creeps were holding
my arms.  Hillary smiled at me and licked her lips.


"Every ritual needs a sacrament.  You look worth every penny we paid
that moronic husband of yours.  Don't worry.  We won't hurt you,"
Hillary stated authoritatively,
"but, you'll need to play your part for this to be fun.  And, just to
erase any doubts about what you're worth, you'll be getting a
generous... kickback."

She laughed and the agent to my left roughly pulled a huge wad of cash
from his jacket, throwing it on the ground in front of me.  Without
delay, the men led me to a thick wool blanket and firmly lowered me to
it.  The one who had produced the cash now took out a small tool, like
a box cutter and in smooth, professional movements cut my clothes from
me in a matter of seconds.  Suddenly naked laying on the bed, the
Secret Service men stood up at my sides and the women eased to a stop
in their bestial sex and stood up together.

Striding towards me, Michelle Obama soon stood over my recumbent
figure, each of her feet by a shoulder of mine.  She got to her knees
and squatted her dark pink pussy over my face, leaning forward and
balancing herself on the back of a chair.


"Lick my pussy, heathen.  Make me cum with that philistine mouth of
yours," she commanded with beguiling strength as she pulled the gag,
which turned out to be a pair of green panties, from my mouth and
lowered her steamy cunt on to me.

I had never been with another woman, but I was too far gone now to do
much else other than comply and so I raised my face to her glistening
pink pussy and licked it like I had many times wished my own pussy to
be licked.  Her pussy smelled like cantaloupe and it was wet with her
slippery horniness, which soon covered my lips and chin as she slid
her crotch back and forth over my fluttering tongue.

As I began to suck on her large clit, I felt my legs being pushed open
and Hillary's hands traced their way from behind my knees down to my
ass cheeks.  Squeezing my buttocks and stretching my asshole open, her
hands slid from my ass to meet at my aching pussy.  Still very slick
with my piss and horniness, she slid three fingers from her left hand
into my hole as her right hand slathered more oil on her strap-on
cock.

Hillary pushed the head of the ivory cock into my tight pussy,
stretching it to a barely comfortable fullness as the top of her pussy
pushed hard onto mine with each thrust on her attached dildo.
Michelle grabbed my hair and pushed my face hard into her pussy as I
heard motion around me.


"Oooooohhhhhhh...... YEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!"

Michelle came hard on my nearly smothered face and when I emerged for
air I saw that the two agents had positioned the donkey over us, with
his huge cock dangling right behind Michelle's ass as the men stroked
it and their own poles, which at some unseen point they had unzipped
and begun masturbating.

Hillary leaned back allowing them room as she started fucking with
deeper, longer strokes and the men's hands dripped oil on my exposed
belly as they moved the donkey's cock just a couple inches from
Michelle's asshole.  One of the men begin probing two of his fingers
in the nubile woman's butt, generously lubricating it.

Soon all four fingers on his hand slid easily in and out of Michelle's
asshole and were replaced with the fat, oblong head of the donkey's
cock.  Michelle quickly vibrated her fingers on her clit as the men
began pushing the huge penis into her ass.


"Mmmmm.....   Oooooohhh.....   More!!"

The men continued to slide their hands up and down the donkey's shaft
and balls, allowing the donkey only to enter about five or six inches
into Michelle's yielding asshole.  The future First Lady propelled her
ass up and down on the animal's dong, matching the rhythm of Hillary
who was getting more and more vocal as she pushed her ivory cock into
me.


"Eat my pussy, you heretic!" Michelle said as she roughly pulled  my
head back up to her pussy.

As if in response, Hillary announced while she thrust her cock into me
faster and faster,
"the most sacred part of the ritual now begins!  Let us mix the
profane and the sacred, the dirty and the clean, until we are one with
the gods.  Purify us with what is taboo.  Expose our souls to the most
divine truth: the mundane!"

All four of these shocking Bacchanalians then said together,
"amen", and even the donkey brayed as it came, overflowing Michelle's
lovely ass with thick squirt after squirt of donkey cum that poured
out all over my breasts, belly, and down to the tops of our copulating
pussies.  Michelle thrust her butt outwards over me as the animal
spunk spilled from her gaping asshole and grunted, discharging a loud,
wet fart from her rear.

She grunted again, and a huge squirt of donkey cum, mixed with her
fresh brown shit exploded from her asshole and onto Hillary's breasts
and face.  Hillary licked her lips and slid downwards to lay right on
top of me as Michelle moved forward.


"Mmmmmmmmm.....  Kiss me, disbeliever," Hillary Clinton ordered as our
bodies smeared the wet, slimy mess of donkey cum and shit between us
and she tongue kissed me vigorously.
I could taste the sourness of Michelle's shit in the salty glaze of
donkey cum as Hillary fucked me faster and faster.  With a reckless
abandon I've never felt before or since, our lusty, smelly rutting
mounted to a mammoth orgasm Hillary and I shared for what seemed like
minutes as my mind flooded with the most intense pleasure I've ever
dreamed of.

When I awoke, I was in a warm, clean blanket and had been cleaned of
all sign of what happened.  I never again saw or spoke to Hillary,
Michelle, or either Secret Service men, but I was given the wad of
cash and a very clear message that I would never be believed if I
tried to tell anyone so why mess up my own life trying to mess up
theirs.

I left D.C. that night, divorced Lee in a record two weeks, and moved
to Belize before Spring where I've lived ever since.  I don't intend
to mess up anyone's life by revealing this story and I'm sure you
won't believe me.  But, it certainly gives me at least something to
think about when I figure that the Monica Lewinsky affair was probably
the least scandalous thing about the White House.  And, even when it
wakes me up in the middle of the night, I'd rather finger myself
remembering that day than eat fried chicken.




==============
Afterword
==============

Here is the post I made that started this story:

"Let's play a game! :) I'd like to write this reddit an adult story
using some themes in a Madlibs/improv style. Could you tell me:
 * A key historical figure
 * A kink that you have but are embarrassed about
 * A particular sex act or fantasy you would like written about
Not going to write about the really extreme (e.g. kids or death), but
most anything else is fair game!"

The used responses:

"Michelle Obama + Hillary Clinton, Beastiality, Voyuerism"

"Shitting on her chest or mine..."

"A) Joan of Arc B) Minor submission on her part C) An uncontrollable
female orgasm"

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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