Trump loved walls, and the idea of building the most magnificent, the most important, and the strongest wall appealed to him immensely. Just think of all the people he could keep from getting in - and the people he could stop from getting out! Glorious!
Of course, it would be a long time before such a wall could be made. Only the finest materials could be used, but who said Trump had to pay for it? Why not make the Mexicans pay?
After all, it was only fair. They got to gaze upon the glory of the Wall too. It wasn't fair to let Trump spend all his time and energy and money on it, only to have them benefit from it.
And so it was agreed. Trump was going to build a wall, and the Wall was going to be paid for by the Mexicans. Fair deal.
The Mexicans seemed to love this idea. They started protests (clear signs that they were already looking forward to it), they signed petitions (they claimed it was to stop the construction of it, but really they were hiding their excitement) and yet more people attempted to cross the border (perhaps to try and see the construction from a better angle). As much as Trump appreciated the interest in his wall, he really couldn't let anything get in the way of progress.
In just a few short weeks, the Wall was built. It stood a impressive 20 metres, the white bricks embellished with USA flags, and the barbed wire atop providing extra intimidation.
Trump sighed contentedly as he let his eyes rove over his piece of creative genius. It truly was the greatest thing he had ever made. He felt a strange emotion in his stomach, one that urged him to do things that hadn't even crossed his mind until this moment -
He glanced around quickly, making sure nobody was nearby, before striding awkwardly to the Wall. He placed a hand against its sweet white concrete, and gently brought his hips closer.
"I love you, Wall," he whispered, tenderly stroking the mortar in between the bricks, "I'm never going to let anything bad happen to you. I promise." With that, he unbuckled his pants, and rubbed his bare cock into the ridges of the USA flags.
A gasp escaped his mouth. He didn't mean for it to happen, but the thought of being so close to something he loved so dearly, and having that sort of physical contact - it was too much.
Trump's mouth salivated. There were so many things he'd love to do to this wall, and the danger of someone walking in on it made his heart begin to beat wildly.
He began to rub his dick against the Wall, harder, faster, each thrust winding up a tight coil inside of him. It needed release soon, or it might just cause his head to spring up, not unlike that of a jack in a box.
Trump took his shirt off, allowing himself full body contact with the Wall. He rubbed his nipples in slow, circular motions against the cold, hard concrete, and felt a moan forcing itself up his throat. He thrusted harder now, chasing after the orgasm that he so desperately craved.
The USA flags seemed to taunt him, their red, blue and white colours seeming too bright for his eyes. He blinked, before stretching his tongue out to gently flick the edges of the chiseled and painted flag. He just couldn't get enough of the Wall. He moaned again, feeling the emotion in the vocalisation rip through his throat.
He felt his body tensing now, the coil inside him just about ready to spring. He thrust wildly with no rhythm, his hips bucking instinctively, his tongue still creating saliva marks on the spotless bricks.
Just when he thought he couldn't go for any longer, he felt the coil release. His body relaxed and he fell to his knees, the orgasm so intense that white spots were obscuring his vision.
Trump stayed on his hands and knees for a while, gathering his breath. Eventually, he wiped himself clean with a few tissues he found in his jacket pocket, reluctantly dressed himself, before going to seek out a guard to cordon off an area for his private activities. He was going to need it. He knew he was going to come back here a lot.
