Obamney

Mitt walks down the hall to Barack's hotel room, his palms sweaty and his stomach in knots. Tonight is the night; he will finally find the courage to confess his love. He takes out the key card that he got from bribing the front desk clerk. Nobody says no to Mitt Romney. Mitt swipes the key card into the door and swings it open, hoping he's not making too much noise. He can hear water running in the shower, and the bathroom door isn't closed all the way. The sweet sound of Barack's gravelly voice drifts out though the crack in the door, singing 'What Makes You Beautiful' by One Direction. Mitt smiles to himself. Barack has always had the best taste in music. Mitt pushes open the bathroom door slowly and peeks in, steam from the shower making the room hazy. Barack is at the bridge now, and Mitt steps all the way inside. He can see the outline of Barack's delicious form through the foggy glass of the shower door, making him hot and bothered.

"You've got a wonderful voice," Mitt interrupts.

Barack spins, startled at Mitt's voice.

"Governor Romney," he gasps. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh Barack, there's no need to be professional," Mitt chuckles, taking a step forward. "We both know that there's always been something more between us."

"W-what are you talking about?" Barack stumbles backward.

"Don't act like you don't lust for me. I can see it in those orbs, Barack. They haunt me," Mitt says seductively, licking his lips.

"Mitt, we're both married," Barack protests, but Mitt can see that his defenses are weakening.

"Anne and Michelle aren't here. Come on, Barack, this is our chance." At this, Mitt rushes toward him, not caring about his debate clothes getting soaked in the shower. Barack doesn't resist when Mitt caresses his cheek. "You want me." Mitt crashes his lips against Barack's and reaches his hand around to squeeze his ass. Barack kisses him back forcefully, and Mitt is glad he feels the same way.

"Mitt," Barack interrupts the kiss. "How did you know?"

"I'm the governor of Massachusetts," Mitt replies. "Of course I know."

Barack fumbles with the buttons on Mitt's dress shirt and Mitt helps him get it off, shortly followed by his pants and adult diaper. Barack stands there with the water hitting his back, staring at Mitt in shock.

"Like what you see?" Mitt says enticingly, raising his graying eyebrows at Barack.

Barack moans in response, flinging himself at Mitt's flabby core. Mitt locks his lips against Barack's again, and Barack wraps his legs around Mitt's waist. The kiss gets steamier and Mitt feels Obama getting hard against him. "Mitt," Barack groans. "I need you."

"Anything for you, Mr. President," Mitt growls, flipping the shower off and carrying Barack into the bedroom. Mitt throws him down on the bed aggressively, and lowers himself onto him. Mitt thrusts into him hard, and Barack screams in pain and pleasure.

"Mitt!" he cries, clutching the pillow.

"Bet Michelle never made you feel this good," Mitt grunts, thrusting again. Barack is so tight around him. "You're such a slut for me, my dirty little whore. Call yourself a whore, Barack."

"I'm a whore," Barack whispers.

"Louder!" Mitt demands.

"I'm a whore!" Barack screams.

"Good boy," Mitt leans in and nibbles on Barack's ear. "Your ears, Barack. They're huge."

"It's so I can listen to you whisper sweet nothings to me all night," Barack answers breathlessly.

Mitt thrusts again, slower, and Barack whines at the change.

"Harder, Mitt," Barack commands.

"Anything for the President of the United States," Mitt complies, slamming into him as hard as he can. Barack screams with pleasure and Mitt feels him quivering beneath him.

"I'm close," Barack whispers.

"Me too, baby. Just a little more," Mitt replies, driving into him again. Barack comes with a loud moan, and Mitt follows immediately after.

"Mitt, that was amazing," Barack pants.

"You were incredible," Mitt sighs. He kisses the large mole on Obama's cheek.

Barack groans and kisses Mitt's neck, leading to round two in the presidential debate.