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Cuban Missile Crisis

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Cuban Missile Crisis

John F. Kennedy walked into the room. Talks were progressing too slowly, telegrams not reaching their destination quickly enough. He had to meet the Russian president in person. The Cuban Missile Crisis. Things had gotten serious, many had predicted nuclear war would occur if things weren't sorted quickly. A familiar face greeted him.
"Ah, Mr. President," Khrushchev smiled, he looked genuinely pleased to see him, "I see you're here at last!"
Kennedy wasn't in the mood for small talk, not at the moment, anyway.
"Why?" Kennedy yelled, "Why did you do it? The missiles, I thought last time, we agreed-"
"I'm sorry, I just needed a reason for you to see me again," Khrushchev admitted quickly. Kennedy realised immediately. He had been tricked. What was the Cuban Missile Crisis, just an excuse to get him in the same room as Nikita? Kennedy thought back to the meeting of world leaders. It started out with Nikita constantly staring at him throughout the meeting. Afterwards, he had blown Khrushchev in a dark cupboard. For John it had just been a one-night stand, something casual. He'd had enough of them in his time. But it appeared that the Russian president had saw it as something more. Kennedy didn't know whether to feel relieved or horrified. So, the apocalypse that many had predicted wasn't going to happen, nuclear war was completely off the cards, but it appeared the Russian president wanted to take their relationship a step further. The apocalypse was one thing, this was something else. At first, Kennedy tried to play it off as a joke.
"So, Castro is just a pawn in our dirty sex game," John laughed.
"He is," Khrushchev said, completely serious.
"Nikita-"
It was at that point that Kennedy realised that Khrushchev was drawing the curtains.
"I'm- I'm not sure this is a good idea," Kennedy stammered, "I-I mean, what if someone finds out?"
"They won't find out John, I swear, I didn't tell anyone after last time, did I? You trusted me before. You can trust me again."
"Hmmm... and what does Castro know about this?"
"About us? Nothing," Khrushchev replied, "There's just the two of us who know about... us. I promise you."
Exactly the response he had wanted. Kennedy weighed up the options. He remembered how good he felt back at the world leaders' meeting. How risky it had been, the thrill of it, the excitement. He wouldn't mind feeling like that again, just one more time.
"Fine, you've convinced me," John said, "Let's do this."
"Excellent," Nikita smiled, "Now, take those clothes of yours off. Wouldn't want to get anything on that smart suit of yours now, would we?"
"No," John smiled back, "We wouldn't."
And soon enough, two smart suits lay on the floor as the two presidents faced each other, completely naked. This could only lead to one thing. It was time for a very unprofessional meeting between the two presidents.
"Well Nikita, I-" Kennedy began.
"No, no more talking," Nikita said, cutting off Kennedy as he pressed his lips against the American president's. It was so firey, so full of passion. Kennedy found himself kissing back. They both wanted this.
Wasting no time, the two of them clambered onto the desk, pushing aside the flag of the Soviet Union that covered it. Soon enough they were having sex, as much as one can laying on top of a desk. Kennedy was inside the Russian president. So this is what his critics meant when they said he was soft on Communism.
"More..." Nikita moaned, "Don't stop-"
John had no intention of stopping, he pounded Nikita again and again, both moaning with passion but also trying to make sure they were as quiet as possible. This was what they had both been waiting for. The two of them in ecstasy, writhing on the desk. Things had escalated quickly.
"Nikita..." John could barely contain himself as he blew his load inside the Russian president.
The two of them, hot and panting, were sprawled across the Russian president's desk. Kennedy wondered how silly the scene would have looked if someone had walked in on them at that moment. The political scandal that would have followed, both of them would be forced to resign from their posts. Luckily for them, no one arrived. There was no one else who could see them. Their dirty secret was safe within the walls of the Kremlin. They lay there for a while on the desk in silence, holding each other, enjoying the moment, as they knew it couldn't last forever like they both wanted it to. Nikita was the first to speak.
"So... may I bring up my suggestion of a hotline again?" Khrushchev asked.
The Moscow-Washington hotline. Nikita had suggested it to Kennedy at the meeting. Officially, it was going to be used to ensure peace between the two nations. Unofficially, of course, it would be used for their dirty talk. This night had persuaded John that it had to become a reality.
"Yes," Kennedy replied, "It sounds like a great idea. I'll get it installed as soon as I return to the White House."
And with that, they both began putting their clothes back on, both careful that they didn't look too messy. They wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea.
"Mr. President," Khrushchev smiled, "I hope you remember this is all purely confidential."
"Of course."
"And, thank you," Nikita smiled, "For everything. It might be some time before we can have a meeting like this again, but-"
"Oh, there'll be a next time," the American interrupted, "I'll make sure of it. Don't you worry about that."
"Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to be making promises you won't keep, now."
"Hey, I promise. I've got to repay you. We got a little mess on your desk, remember? Next time, we'll have sex on the Oval Office."
"Ok, I'll remember you said that, so don't disappoint me."
"I won't," Kennedy grinned as he walked out the door. The Cuban Missile Crisis had just been excuse to get the two of them in the same room together one more time. And now, the 'Crisis' had been successfully solved, and he had had some of the greatest sex of his life. He could return to Washington as a hero. It was all just part of being the American president.
The End.