Yet what are the odds? I never expected to run into my mystery lover again, and certainly not at a campaign event. I thought we were one and done, and for good reason too. People don’t exactly broadcast that they frequent glory holes, and it’s not like we exchanged contact info, much less names.
But as I steal another glance her way, that unmistakable sense of knowing rises in my bones. Yes, it’s definitely the woman who took me in her mouth and pussy at the truck stop. I’m sure of it. But how am I going to bring that up? How are we even going to talk, period?
Focus, focus, focus.
I need to give these people my full attention. The success of my campaign hinges on it, but I can’t. How can I possibly focus on anyone but my truck stop lover? Hell, if I disassociate anymore, it’s almost as if I’m right back in that stall, with my cock jutting through the hole as her lips wrap themselves around my veiny member. I can practically feel her tongue swirling around my tip. I can almost feel the tight squeeze of her cunt too, clenching around me nonstop, practically milking the seed right out of my balls.
The loud screaming, the throaty moans, the breathy little whimpers that she let out. The way she begged in between her moans, ‘faster, harder, please!’
The teasing.
‘Do you like it? Look how pretty you made me look!’ Plus, she’d giggled while showing me her swollen folds with my virile male fluid dripping between her lips…
Yeah. I’ve got to talk to her somehow because what are the odds we’d meet again? Hell, I need her, even if just for another steamy session.
But alas, fate has other plans. A potential donor shakes my hand, his portly frame quivering with excitement.
“Well, you’re doing an excellent job with the campaign so far, Cooke, and I’ve made my decision once and for all. I think it’s safe to say that you can count on me,” he winks before clapping me on the shoulder.
I nod with what I hope appears to be enthusiasm.
“Thanks, Ben. I really appreciate it. I’m glad you’re on board, and trust me, Sugar is definitely the place to be. This is a fantastic little town, and we’re going to keep it that way.”
The portly man smiles, his cheeks flushed.
“Well then I’m glad we talked, Cooke, and keep doing what you’re doing. I’m confident that I’ll be calling you mayor soon enough,” he grins before shaking my hand one last time and striding away. I have a moment to catch my breath before chatting with the next donor, but when I turn, who do I see but a curvy woman with curly brown hair dragging the tall, beautiful black-haired woman over towards me.
My heart begins to race the closer they get. My pulse pounds and oh shit, my cock is stiffening. To be honest, I’m not one to get nervous around the ladies, but this woman has me feeling completely awestruck. It’s as if I’m a pimply teenage boy at a middle school dance, and the prettiest girl has just come over to say hello. She has no idea the power she holds, and if she is who I think she is, I’ll probably melt into a puddle. I’ll do anything for her, like hold her books or pick her up from cheerleading practice. Hell, she could tell me to fling myself off a bridge and I would do it just to make her happy, no questions asked.
At that moment, the short, plump brunette gives me a friendly wave.
“Hi Mr. Cooke,” she burbles. “I’m Vanessa Arnold, and this is my friend, Ginny Malone. We’re huge supporters of yours. Huge. Super huge.”
Ginny looks a bit embarrassed, but I merely smile.
“Thanks, that’s great to hear. I appreciate your support.”
Vanessa nods quickly, her brown curls bobbling.
“In fact, your position on crime is novel. It’s exactly what we need in this era of defund the police.”
I stare a bit because actually, I’m not a big supporter of defunding law enforcement, but then again, I’ve never said anything crystal clear about my position either. After all, this is how politics work. You talk without taking firm stances in order to attract the greatest number of supporters. As a result, I just smile.
“It’s nice to hear that. Crime is a huge topic these days, and it affects even small towns like Sugar,” I say in a diplomatic voice. “But together, I’m sure law enforcement, the judiciary, and of course, concerned citizens like yourself will find a way to keep Sugar safe.” There. That’s a bit of political non-speech, if I do say so myself. Meanwhile, Vanessa beams and begins talking again.
“Oh, yes certainly,” she begins before launching into a long-winded monologue that would have endeared her to me on any other night. After all, I always enjoy it when people get passionate about community affairs, throwing themselves into public issues. But at the moment, I can’t focus on anything tonight aside from her. The gorgeous girl standing at Vanessa’s side. Her name is Ginny Malone and the air throbs with tension between us.