Fanfic: Jane and Bernie Sander's Excellent Adventure, Part Four
Characters: Bernie Sanders/Susan Sarandon, Jane Sanders/OMC
Rating: NC-17
WARNING: NOT SAFE FOR WORK OR YOUR MENTAL WELLBEING!
A/N I seriously need help.
What forbidden delights awaited her?
Bob peeled off his jacket to reveal a tight shirt & equally tight pair of pants. Jane watched as he undressed. His wide shoulders and slim waist were a hymn to manhood, his buttocks a song of virility, and most of all, the velvet sheath that proclaimed him male. Bob raised an eyebrow. "Have you never seen a man before?" He smiled again.
"Not--not like you," Jane Sanders whispered. "Not even in grad school."
He pressed his mouth on hers, his tongue thrusting into Jane's mouth as he unhooked her Playtex 24-hour bra. "Bob," she said into his hair.
"Jane, you magnificent animal," he breathed. She lay naked beneath this unexpected gift of masculine beauty, waiting, trembling, letting herself surrender to whatever was to come next.
Meanwhile, Bernie heard a soft tap on the door. "Bernie? It's Su-su."
"Su-su!" Bernie flung open the door. It was a bad idea, because he crumpled next to the door with a cry of pain and a string of oaths in Yiddish.
"Baby, what's the matter?" Susan knelt, her eyes wide with concern.
"My back is out," Bernie grunted. "Goddamnit, all those rallies, standing on all those damn podiums!"
Susan gingerly helped the presidential candidate up. He yelped but let her seat him in an armchair.
"I'll run you a hot bath and phone down for some epsom salts," Susan said. Despairingly, Bernie noted she was wearing a faux-fur mink coat over a sheer chiffon negligee. Damn the luck!
Bob carried Jane into the bedroom and dropped her down on the bed. "You have not been properly loved, I can tell." Jane was in an agony of lust. All thoughts of Bernie had flown from her mind. Bob's mouth crashed down on hers, his tongue thrusting, exploring--as Jane felt herself going hot and cold all over. And wet. She was so hot and wet for Bob, in a way she never had been for Bernie. Why had she deluded herself into thinking that the shared struggle of the proletariat was more important than passion? This was life, this was real, this man, this centaur thrusting himself into her! Jane's hips bucked up as he savagely pounded into her, growling like the animal he was. Frenzied, she bit his shoulder, drawing blood.
Meanwhile, Bernie soaked in a hot tub. Susan brought him a glass of milk.
2nd A/N: I stole that velvet sheath line from weeping_cock.
TO BE CONTINUED
Rating: NC-17
WARNING: NOT SAFE FOR WORK OR YOUR MENTAL WELLBEING!
A/N I seriously need help.
What forbidden delights awaited her?
Bob peeled off his jacket to reveal a tight shirt & equally tight pair of pants. Jane watched as he undressed. His wide shoulders and slim waist were a hymn to manhood, his buttocks a song of virility, and most of all, the velvet sheath that proclaimed him male. Bob raised an eyebrow. "Have you never seen a man before?" He smiled again.
"Not--not like you," Jane Sanders whispered. "Not even in grad school."
He pressed his mouth on hers, his tongue thrusting into Jane's mouth as he unhooked her Playtex 24-hour bra. "Bob," she said into his hair.
"Jane, you magnificent animal," he breathed. She lay naked beneath this unexpected gift of masculine beauty, waiting, trembling, letting herself surrender to whatever was to come next.
Meanwhile, Bernie heard a soft tap on the door. "Bernie? It's Su-su."
"Su-su!" Bernie flung open the door. It was a bad idea, because he crumpled next to the door with a cry of pain and a string of oaths in Yiddish.
"Baby, what's the matter?" Susan knelt, her eyes wide with concern.
"My back is out," Bernie grunted. "Goddamnit, all those rallies, standing on all those damn podiums!"
Susan gingerly helped the presidential candidate up. He yelped but let her seat him in an armchair.
"I'll run you a hot bath and phone down for some epsom salts," Susan said. Despairingly, Bernie noted she was wearing a faux-fur mink coat over a sheer chiffon negligee. Damn the luck!
Bob carried Jane into the bedroom and dropped her down on the bed. "You have not been properly loved, I can tell." Jane was in an agony of lust. All thoughts of Bernie had flown from her mind. Bob's mouth crashed down on hers, his tongue thrusting, exploring--as Jane felt herself going hot and cold all over. And wet. She was so hot and wet for Bob, in a way she never had been for Bernie. Why had she deluded herself into thinking that the shared struggle of the proletariat was more important than passion? This was life, this was real, this man, this centaur thrusting himself into her! Jane's hips bucked up as he savagely pounded into her, growling like the animal he was. Frenzied, she bit his shoulder, drawing blood.
Meanwhile, Bernie soaked in a hot tub. Susan brought him a glass of milk.
2nd A/N: I stole that velvet sheath line from weeping_cock.
TO BE CONTINUED