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O-Face in the Oval Office

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Obama sighed and put his head in his hands. It had been a rough day at congress. First, pictures of him playing strip poker with former president George Bush had been leaked, then he had received word that Vladimir Putin would be coming in for a visit the next day. And to top it off, according to a reliable source, Osama Bin Laden’s death was faked, and he was still out there somewhere. How could this day get any worse?

Obama heard a knock at the door.

“Come in!” he called tiredly.
His extremely attractive secretary Margot walked through the door, holding a clipboard.
“President Putin is here and wishes to see you.” Said Margot in her dreamy-sex-f*ck-her-right-in-the-p*ssy voice.

Obama checked the clock on the wall in disbelief.
“It’s quarter to two in the morning!” he complained.

Margot put her leg up the wall to stretch. She let her skirt fall, showing off her sexy legs. Obama felt himself getting uncomfortably big in the crotch area, so he focussed his entire being on something else; anything else. The first thing that came to mind startled him.

In Obama’s imagination, Vladimir Putin was sashaying up to him, wearing nothing but a lacy bra and underwear. His reaction to this premonition surprised him as much as the fact that he thought of it. The bulge in his pants only got bigger and bigger, until it was unbearable. He tried to think about something else, but he simply couldn’t.
“Send him in, Margot.” Is all he managed to choke out.


Vladimir Putin took a seat in Obama’s office without being invited to. Obama, determined to not fight with Putin (yet), ignored this and sat behind his desk.
“So, Putin. What brings you here in this late hour?” Obama asked nonchalantly.
“You know perfectly vell vhat.” Snapped Putin, his eyes flashing dangerously.
“No. Vhat?” chuckled Obama.
“This is no time vor games.” Whispered Putin, almost too quiet for Obama to hear. “Ve haff unsolved issues with you and your, uh, how you say? Yuu Ess Ay?”
“The US. Yes, I understand that.” Said Obama, the humour dropping instantly from his face.

Putin stood up and crossed the room behind Obama. He grabbed the American flag in both hands and twisted it around his fingers.
“Your “noble” American flag. Ha! Dis is vhat I tink of your stars and stripes; your Uncle Sam; your independence!”
Putin pulled his pants to the floor and dragged the flag right through his butt crack. Although Putin was heavily dishonouring America as he did so, Obama couldn’t help but be turned on a little bit…

It took him a minute to admit that he had never envied a flag in his life more than he envied this one right here, right now.

“Putin. Stop. Please.” Obama said in a voice he hoped was steady.
“Vhy should I? You practically shit on Russian flag, and we can do nothing to stop you!”

It was at this point that Obama, in one swift movement, flew off his chair, grabbed Putin by the neck and crashed their mouths together. This movement took Putin by obvious surprise for a minute, but he soon melted into Obama’s soft lips.
Putin deepened the kiss, licking Obama’s bottom lip gently. Obama granted him access slowly. Their tongues fought bravely for dominance until Obama’s won, squashing Putin’s tongue back in his mouth where it belonged.

At this point, they both knew that it was time for something a little more interesting in their relationship. Putin looked at Obama with pure lust in his eyes, and saw the same look reflected back. He knew what he had to do.

Putin bent down to his knees and started to undo Obama’s belt. Once he had it open, he took it off slowly, and threw it aside. He then gently eased off Obama’s pants, careful not to graze his throbbing member. Putin hooked his thumbs into Obama’s Calvin Klein’s, but before he pulled them off, he suddenly stood up and pushed Obama face-first onto the top of his desk. Reaching across, Putin’s hand grasped a ruler. With his free hand, Putin held Obama down, and with the other, he caused blows of pleasure and pain to rain down onto Obama’s already shuddering frame.
“You like it?” Putin demanded, “Huh? You like it?”
“Yes, Putin! Yes!” cried Obama.

Putin was just about to take the night further, when a distant noise broke them from their desire. A helicopter was moving towards them at a very great speed; it was nearing the window very quickly. Still holding Obama down with an iron grip, Putin stared out the window at the approaching air vehicle. When the helicopter got close enough, they made out the shadowy figure of a man, poised to jump. Right through their window.

Putin let go of Obama, and they barely had enough time to scramble under the desk before the man smashed through the window, and the deathly cries of “Allahu akbar!” filled the Oval Office.
“What the f*ck?” yelled Obama.

He got up out from underneath the desk and found himself face-to-face with none other than…
“Osama Bin Laden.” Said Obama.
“What’s going on here?” said Bin Laden, obviously confused. He took in Obama with no pants, pants with no Obama, and Vladimir Putin huddled under the desk, clutching a ruler.
“Oh! I think I know!” Bin Laden winked at Putin and Obama in turn. “You guys are practising you debates!”
“Oh, vell, not exactly.” Admitted Putin.

Bin Laden took another look around.
“Oh!” he finally realised. “Oh! I am so very sorry for intruding! I was trying to make a big entrance to kill Obama, but not this big, if you know what I mean.” He said, eying Obama’s bulging cock with a hungry look in his eye.
“Yes, I understand.” Said Obama.
There was a bit of an awkward silence, as the three men looked at each other, wondering what to do next.
“Do you mind if I join you? I can be pretty kinky when I want to be.”
Putin was about to say no, when Obama declared, “Yes, we can.”

“Well then, we’d better get ready.” Said Bin Laden.
He began to unwind his turban, exposing several sticks of TNT.
“Alright then.” He said. “Let’s get kinky.”
Using the turban, he tied Obama and Putin by their hands to the desk. Bin Laden decided to start with Obama.

Making sure Putin was watching, he laid Obama on his stomach. He pulled Obama’s underwear off, and spread his ass cheeks with one hand. With the other, he sucked on the TNT stick until it was nice and wet and lubricated, and shoved it deep into Obama’s ass. Obama screamed in pleasure and pain as Bin Laden thrusted the penis-sized stick in and out of his virgin booty hole. Obama came once, screaming, as his cum shot into his mouth with the kinetic energy of a flicked rubber band.
When Bin Laden was finished with Obama’s wasted and shivering body, he moved on to Putin, doing the exact same thing. It took Putin a lot longer to cum because his booty hole wasn’t virginal.

When Obama and Putin’s butt holes were both exhausted from overuse, they decided to give Bin Laden as much pleasure as they had just had, and more.

Obama pulled Bin Laden’s tunic off and sat on a chair, pulling Bin Laden on top of him. Obama positioned the head of his already fully erect monster at Bin Laden’s tight entrance. Obama slid in, making Bin Laden scream in delight. As Obama pumped harder and faster, Putin got to work on Little Osama.

He started start to kiss down Bin Laden’s chest and stomach. When he got to his snail trail, he looked up at him and smiled. Putin unravelled the mini-turban that Bin Laden had put on it and sucked his dick and swirled his tongue around. He got harder and harder and his penis throbbed as he was ready to cum. Putin moaned and sucked harder and squeezed the base of his penis while he sucked. Bin Laden came, and the cum went all over Putin’s face.

At this point, Obama released into Bin Ladin’s ass. Everyone was screaming and moaning, until they heard the door open.

“Barack?” asked Michelle.
“Dad?” asked Malia, “What are you doing?”