Fanfic: Jane and Bernie Sander's Excellent Adventure, Part Five
Characters: Jane Sanders, Bernie Sanders, Bob, OMC
Rating: NC-17
Jane's on the bed, Bernie's in the bathtub. Naughty stuff ensues.
"Susan, get into the bath with me," he leered.
"Now, now, Bernie, with your back out, you naughty man? Relax."
"Dammit, Susan, I wanted some nooky! Now I'm in a damn bathtub with my damn back. Hillary did this! She makes me tense, and my back tenses up, and then I gotta sit here like a damn old coot! Hillary does not deserve to be president." He looked up into Susan's hazel orbs. "Tell me about my superdelegates."
"Bernie," Susan Sarandon said in a husky whisper, "you have all the superdelegates. All. The. Superdelegates. Does that feel good?"
"Yeah, that feels real good. Little Bernie wants to hear about superdelegates." He grinned. Susan slipped her hand into the water. Her hand gripped his hard cock. Thank goodness he'd taken two Viagra.
"Superdelegates. All the superdelegates for Bernie. Superdelegates superdelegates superdelegates superdelegatessuperdelegatessuperdelegatessuperdelegatessuperdelegatessuper--"
"I AM THE DEMOCRATIC NOMINEE!" Bernie yelled as he came.
"You are, baby, you are, everyone is voting for you." Susan Sarandon delicately dried off her hand with a hotel hand towel. Bernie turned his head to her.
"I'm sleepy, Mommy."
"Yes, Bernie?"
"Bernie wants to sleep now."
"Mommy will take you to bed, little boy." Susan rang downstairs for two strong bellhops.
"Bob, I am your woman, I am yours," Jane sobbed as Bob continued to thrust.
"I know, you sexy bobcat," he groaned, pushing himself in deeper. The feelings built up in Jane, her whole body sang with heat, she was heat incarnate, Jane Sanders was heat! She would melt!
Suddenly ecstasy slammed into her like a two-ton truck! Jane shrieked with pleasure, her body twisting madly. Bob groaned and exploded inside her with two tremendous thrusts. "Jane, my Jane," he said, and collapsed on top of her. They lay, wrapped in bliss, together.
It was almost dawn when Jane crept back into their hotel room. Bernie snored. He was lying on a heating pad. She slid in next to her sleeping husband in bed.
Neither of them would ever speak of the White House Correspondents Dinner again.
THE END
(Thank God)
Rating: NC-17
Jane's on the bed, Bernie's in the bathtub. Naughty stuff ensues.
"Susan, get into the bath with me," he leered.
"Now, now, Bernie, with your back out, you naughty man? Relax."
"Dammit, Susan, I wanted some nooky! Now I'm in a damn bathtub with my damn back. Hillary did this! She makes me tense, and my back tenses up, and then I gotta sit here like a damn old coot! Hillary does not deserve to be president." He looked up into Susan's hazel orbs. "Tell me about my superdelegates."
"Bernie," Susan Sarandon said in a husky whisper, "you have all the superdelegates. All. The. Superdelegates. Does that feel good?"
"Yeah, that feels real good. Little Bernie wants to hear about superdelegates." He grinned. Susan slipped her hand into the water. Her hand gripped his hard cock. Thank goodness he'd taken two Viagra.
"Superdelegates. All the superdelegates for Bernie. Superdelegates superdelegates superdelegates superdelegatessuperdelegatessuperdelegatessuperdelegatessuperdelegatessuper--"
"I AM THE DEMOCRATIC NOMINEE!" Bernie yelled as he came.
"You are, baby, you are, everyone is voting for you." Susan Sarandon delicately dried off her hand with a hotel hand towel. Bernie turned his head to her.
"I'm sleepy, Mommy."
"Yes, Bernie?"
"Bernie wants to sleep now."
"Mommy will take you to bed, little boy." Susan rang downstairs for two strong bellhops.
"Bob, I am your woman, I am yours," Jane sobbed as Bob continued to thrust.
"I know, you sexy bobcat," he groaned, pushing himself in deeper. The feelings built up in Jane, her whole body sang with heat, she was heat incarnate, Jane Sanders was heat! She would melt!
Suddenly ecstasy slammed into her like a two-ton truck! Jane shrieked with pleasure, her body twisting madly. Bob groaned and exploded inside her with two tremendous thrusts. "Jane, my Jane," he said, and collapsed on top of her. They lay, wrapped in bliss, together.
It was almost dawn when Jane crept back into their hotel room. Bernie snored. He was lying on a heating pad. She slid in next to her sleeping husband in bed.
Neither of them would ever speak of the White House Correspondents Dinner again.
THE END
(Thank God)