3 days had passed since Donald and Francis made love. Trump's hole stilled ached whenever he took a crap, but he was still amazed at how much he had enjoyed it. He hadn't seen Francis since their sex-sesh, but he didn't seem to feel attracted to any other of his male peers or teachers. Donald wished he could be with the elder, just one more time, but he had a feeling that they wouldn't see eachother anytime soon.
After many months, Trump became less ignorant - the Pope's sexual therapy had definitely worked, but he also became distant due to the absence of his fuck-daddy. In a state of reclusion, the head priest of the school was informed and a meeting was organised with Trump's parents. Donald longed to go home, he had no purpose here without his master.
And so it was, Trump was taken home, holding only the precious memory of his brief, untimely love. On the flight here, he recalled, he was begrudgingly ready to accept that his stay would be nothing but pointless - simply a waste of time that he would one day hopefully forget. He would never have imagined how impactful it could be on his life - every decision he made from now on would be influenced by the memory of that hour in the changing room.
Now he could have been hallucinating, but when Trump looked out of the window for his last look at Rome, he could swear that there, on the runway, stood a wrinkly old man, in a pearl-white robe and a whip in one hand. The figure grinned and waved until Trump could no longer see him, but something deep in Trump's heart, (and his asshole), felt connected to God himself. He smiled internally. Donald J. Trump had officially left Italy.
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Trump X Pope (smut)
RomanceWhen a high-school rich boy moves to a Catholic school, he hates every moment. Until one day, he stumbles upon the most unlikely - but extremely sexy - love of his life. Donald doesn't realise it, but this is the beginning of an erotic and extremely...
