Then, hesitant, I feel her reaching for my hand. She grabs it, gently squeezing my fingers, and I squeeze back. We remain in silence, the long shadows in the room tumbling over our bodies as if they were trying to caress our naked skin. I’ve never been what I’d call a romantic, but this… This right here, this is fucking perfection. Forget everything you have ever heard about poetry, music or paintings; the only art form that can explain love is good old hard fucking. Trust me.
“You’re right…” I finally manage to say, the words coming out of my mouth as if I wanted to say them all along. “There’s no way I’m leaving. No fucking way.” She responds by squeezing my hand harder and I smile absently, knowing that for once I did the right fucking thing. “I can’t be away from you.”
“Neither can I,” she says, whatever there is between us suddenly becoming very fucking real.
New York Daily Journal
From the Desk of Amanda Adams, the Professional Gossiper of Page Two.
Welcome to Page Two Gossip, here’s what we’re hearing around the halls of power:
That’s right, New Yorker, the people have spoken and apparently you can’t get enough of Lance and Jocelyn Anders.
At least that's what internal tracking polls have shown within the Anders For Mayor campaign. Sources inside the campaign are confirming for me what the majority of us think when we’re alone and watching the television: Hizzoner’s bad boy son is hot. And his new wife of less than a year isn’t too bad either. In fact, the photogenic family is one of the major reasons that Mayor Anders is retaining a slim 5-point margin of victory in most head-to-head matches against his mayoral rival, Jim Jenkins.
That’s right. Bad boy Lance better get a car for Christmas, because his good looks and hot body, on display at his father’s side throughout the campaign are attracting New York City voters and propping up his dad’s campaign. His stepmom, Jocelyn, is doing her own good among male voters as well.
When asked in a Fordham University poll who the sexiest person out of both the candidates and their families were, New Yorkers had no divisions among them. 89% agreed that Lance Anders was the sexiest man involved in the mayoral election. An even greater 94% of respondents agreed that Jocelyn Anders was the sexiest woman involved in the race.
49% of New Yorkers even admitted that the reason they showed up to events or tuned in to the news was to catch a glimpse of Lance or Jocelyn Anders.
In fact, my spies inside the Anders campaign tell me with numbers like this, they’re a bit concerned how much people must dislike Hizzoner for the margin of advantage to only be 5% over Jim Jenkins.
We’ve always known that Lance was a bit of a handful. As the prodigal son of the mayor, his biological mother died when he was only 10 years old, and his stepfather has raised him. Over the last several years, the two have been estranged according to family sources, but they’ve seemed to put whatever issues aside for the election as son has been next to father every step of the way. In college, sources tell us Lance lived up to his bad boy credentials, partying and living it up in a big way while also excelling at his studies and playing varsity football for Yale. After college, he went to work at the White House as an intern, but you’ll remember he was caught having sex with the First Daughter and almost started World War III, leading to his dismissal.
Jocelyn, on the other hand, comes from the politically connected Carter clan. Her brother is planning on running for Governor of New York State in two years time. The marriage between Jocelyn and Michael was certainly a whirlwind, and the two tied the knot in a private ceremony in Westchester. While they’ve been seen in public together, a few close to the family hint that there may be troubles beneath the surface between Hizzoner and his wife. But nothing that we’ve found out enough to confirm and print.
But whatever the case, we know we’ll all be watching Lance and Jocelyn as they stand behind Michael. Will that be enough to lead us to vote for Michael? Only time will tell.
That’s all for today, but we’re digging up as much as we can about this election. Till we hear more, this is Amanda Adams signing off. Keep your ears open, New York.
Jocelyn
Four.
That’s how many months ago Lance Anders set foot into Michael’s Upper East Side townhouse. How many months since I opened that door and set my sex-starved eyes on that gorgeous body of his. That’s roughly the number of months since I tried walking into his room when he was in the shower. Since I almost gave up on the sofa after he rescued me in the Park. Since my birthday. Since I saw him at the gym and went over to touch his shoulder. Then invited him to my dressing room at Saks. Four months since he first put his giant cock inside of me and shot me into orbit. It’s like I haven’t come down since.
Zero.
That’s how many times Michael has asked and wondered why Lance is still here even though the election is just shy of a month away. Lance was supposed to only stay the summer. But Michael doesn’t care about anything except staying as Mayor. Who knows what he has planned after that, he doesn’t tell me.
Zero is also the number of times that Michael has tried touching me. He just doesn’t care about me. I know I’m beating a dead horse and you get it—Michael may not be into me. Michael may be gay. You’re aware. But listen to me, hun, because this is important to me. I need you to understand this. I’m not the kind of girl who goes around cheating on her husband. I’m not some slut who sleeps with her stepson because there was nothing good on television during the day. If Michael hadn’t been cheating on me, and it’s pretty obvious nowadays when he walks in, or if he hadn’t forced my father to give me up for marriage, or even with all that, if he had shown me even the slightest bit of affection I would have never looked at Lance as hungrily as I do now.
OK, well, let me rephrase that. I would have looked at him hungrily. I mean, he’s young. And he’s so hot. But I would have controlled myself. I wouldn’t have flirted at the gym. If Michael had even given me a hug in the six months we were married. Forget about fucking. I don’t even want a kiss. A hug. Or a caress. Even a nice word of affection. Anything.
Can you imagine what it’s like to be treated like an employee in your own marriage? To sleep next to a stranger? And if you wake up with your arms and legs wrapped around them to have your partner look at you with disdain and scorn? So much so that you put a pillow between the two of you so it doesn’t happen again?
When I cum my brains out on Lance’s cock, I’m not just doing it to have sex. I’m doing it because I haven’t found love anywhere else in this world. And Lance gives it to me unconditionally.
Five.
That’s how many points separate Michael’s lead from Jim Jenkins. Everyone is confident it should be enough to carry the day. I don’t really pay much attention to it. Lance and I are usually having sex. But we both know we need to keep this relationship a secret till after the election. The public can’t find out. I don’t think Michael would really care at all if he found out I was sleeping with someone. But he would kill me if he lost the election because of me. Then he’d kill my father. Then Lance would most likely kill him. I can see the fire in both men’s eyes. They may not be related to each other, but it burns brightly the same.
Two hundred.
That’s where I lost count when I try to think of all the times that Lance and I have…been together. Ah, we’re all grown up here, right? That’s
the number of times he’s fucked me. And trust me, multiply at least three orgasms for each time and that’s how many times I’ve cum. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced or felt before. There are simply no words. I’ve quite literally become addicted to Lance Anders. I know there’s an opioid addiction problem in the country now, but to me, Lance is my drug of choice.