A shiver went through Obama as he patiently waited on his guests. Tonight it was Christmas, and he was throwing a Christmas party. Obama stood outside the Whitehouse, tapping his smelly dogs on the pavement, crossing his arms across his chest so hard his man breasts burst with milk. He was extremely nervous, and no one had arrived.
Suddenly, a brilliant car roved down the gravel driveway.
'I've never seen that car before.' Thought Obama rather cautiously. The look of it caused something to shift in his pants.
Quickly out of the car there stepped a sexy beast. He wore a chefs hat and clothing and had muscles that were practically bursting. His ass was tight and large, and the man had to walk carefully, or else his smart white pants would rip from the girth. A peculiar bulge began near the area his crotch and seemed to be slung into the leather of his belt.
Obama recognized the man, but found that he couldn't name him. Brushing down his suit and the sweat which had sprung on his spherical biceps, Obama walked towards the man and extended one perfect wrist.
"Good evening." Obama said. He found his throat was strangely parched, and every step he took closer to sent lightning zig-zagging through his penis. "Merry Christmas! And you are..?" he waited patiently for the answer. A fleeting image of parting lips flashed through Barack's mind.
The mystery man answered slowly, globs of spit decorating his lips.
"The names Ramsay, Gordon Ramsay." The stranger announced finally. His voice was deep and rough, like that of a chiseled cylinder pushing into a deep vortex (or, sex).
"Ohhhh." Stuttered Obama- the man's voice had deeply shaken him. It was so vulgar and sexy; Barack could hardly contain himself! "So you're the famous caterer I hired for the party! I'm so happy to finally meet you." Gordon took his wrist. When they shook hands, and it was if Obama could see the doorway straight to heaven, as if their sweaty fingers interlinked unlocked the secret to every past and every future dilemma which would ever and could ever occur. The power of their hands clasped was so mighty and powerful that cosmic universes were birthed every moment their fingers touched.
Obama, afraid of the universe, whipped his hand away from Gordon.
A moment later, Gordon came inside, as if he'd seen nothing at all. Gordon instantly ventured to the kitchen, where he laid out all his ingredients and began instantly preparing a feast at the stove. As no one else had arrived yet, Obama watched him cook with earnest, his toes clenching every time sweat dripped from Gordon's jaw. Now that he'd tasted the universes sperm, Obama wished desperately to lick it again. And the only way to do that was through touching Gordon Ramsay... maybe even more intimately than ever before.
...
Guests had begun to arrive at the Whitehouse, yet Obama remained in the kitchen. He watched Gordon cook, hidden in the shadows, occasionally taking a sniff of Gordon Ramsay's hair when ever the beautiful man would walk past.
Then suddenly Gordon did something strange. As if no one was there, he delicately look a knife and split a chicken breast down the middle in a slit, before inserting his fingers inside and rubbing it all around. Obama went cold from the shock of the scene. What kind of sick fantasy was Gordon Ramsay into!? Then in a blink of an eye, Gordon was tongue-fucking the breast, and white foam frothed from his mouth and surrounded the chicken breast's hole.
"WHAT THE FUCK?" Obama shrieked, unable to stop himself. He was frightfully scared by how turned on he felt.
Gordon looked up, and jumped back in surprise.
"H-hello!" He stammered. He covered the chicken breast with one hand. "I didn't see you there Obama! This- this is the European style of cooking chicken breasts."
"I'll take your word for it." Replied Obama. How could he argue with a world-famous chef? Breast milk sloshed uncomfortably from inside his man breasts as Obama swayed side to side in infinteindecision. His original attraction to Gordon had vanished with the breast... yet he still savored the sticky sweet juice of universe cum. And only the touch of Gordon's hand had created the paste.
Obama gazed placidly at the rapidly reddening chief. Maybe enticing Gordon with food was the key... that's when he thought of a terribly terrific plan.
PUBLISHED 16/8/23
