When you live in the DC, politics seeps into just about everything. Who you vote for, who you work for, and who you date. Liberals mostly date liberals, conservatives date conservatives, exactly as you’d expect. Dating apps like tinder usually have in the bio phrases like “swipe the way you vote” or “if you voted red don’t even bother” or something alone those lines.
Anyway, it was this environment where I matched with a girl (let’s call her Becca, why not, as good of a fake name as any). She had thick blonde hair that messily tumbled down her shoulders in her pictures and one of those mega watt smiles that has light bursting at the seams. But perhaps most importantly to this story (and probably what you all are most curious about) it was very apparent that she had the most beautiful, plump pair of boobs. One of her pictures was a bikini picture and that top was struggling to contain her ivory flesh. We matched and started talking, and it became obvious fairly quickly she was a conservative. So as we got near arranging meeting up, I made sure to slip in “just so you know, I’m a liberal snowflake”
She responded well and we both agreed that the other person seemed tolerant enough that the entire date wouldn’t be calling each other “out of touch” or “stupid.” We arranged to meet up for a drink after work the next day.
When we met up she was dressed conservatively (which I guess was appropriate all things considered. Heyo.) with a cardigan over a dress, normal office attire. But as much as that modest dress may have tried, there was only so much it could do against the unstoppable juggernaut that was her breasts. The fabric was stretched taut in the service of its country.
We exchanged pleasantries and the alcohol started flowing. Every now and again we took a jab at one another, with me using “hey, facts don’t care about your feelings right?” And she called me a “classic democrat, wanting things given to you” when I swiped a fry off her basket. Once the happy hour ended, I pointed out there was cheaper booze back at my place, to which she winked and said ask me in one more. Needless to say, within 30 minutes we were sitting on my couch, drinks in hand.
We started talking openly about the struggles of dating in DC, and then she looked me in the eye and said “I just really like men who take charge”. Taking a hint for once in my life I grabbed her drink and mine, placed them gingerly on a table, and grabbed her face and kissed her. Before long I was on top of her, our hands mapping each others’ topography. I grabbed her tits, each to large for one hand. She groped my ass and slid her hands up my shirt. I pulled away abruptly and asked her if she wanted to cut the shit, go upstairs, and fuck. She laughed and agreed.
She got up, pulled off her cardigan, and then undid her dress, giving me a devilish smirk. I will never forgot the sight of the cloth sliding off her chest for as long as I live. Her tits were large, pale, perfectly round, and complete with two perfect, tiny tan nipples. I’m fairly certain my mouth was agape as she turned to head upstairs her ass bouncing as she went. I’ve never gotten undressed faster.
When I reached the bedroom I basically tackled her onto the bed, I NEEDED to feel her flesh against mine. She giggled as we kissed and tumbled until I grabbed her hips. Placed her on her back. Spread her legs. And slid inside. Those giggles contorted into moans and before long she began emitting small strained gasps as I pushed in further. Her tits began bouncing in rhythm like two conductor hands making sure this sexual orchestra kept time. It was the most beautiful sight. He hair in a mess sprawled across my bed. Her eyes closed and lips open, getting wider when it was time to moan. Her tits heaving up and down.
As I started to pull out to switch positions, she grabbed my wrist strongly and said curtly “don’t you fucking stop. I’m so close. I’m so close!” We’ll that’s all I needed to hear. I could feel her tight, slick pussy pulsate and spasm, and she began practically yelling to match. Her whole body convulsed. Her eyes clenched shut. And as quickly as it started, her body went limp from exhaustion. I pulled out and fell down next to her sweaty body. We laid there for a moment, catching our breath until she addressed the elephant (get it?) In the room.
“So now we should fuck again so you can cum, huh?”
“Wouldn’t hate it. And maybe again after that to be sure. You gonna tell your friends a liberal snowflake made you cum?”
“Maybe… but only if you can do it again”
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/eztg32/fucking_across_the_political_aisle_mf
Dude… awesome writing makes the awesome sex sound way better. “Taut in the service of her country…” I hope that gets etched in marble somewhere ?
That was a great story, it was not what I expected (in a good way). I can’t wait to hear more!
Sex can always bring people together
I mean if we can bridge the partisan divide one fuck at a time …sign me up.
as if any actual conservatives live in DC
I too enjoyed this. Upvote right after you told us about her boobs. Thanks!
I upvoted after the 2nd paragraph. Well done, Sir.
I don’t know whether I love you or hate you for those puns.
This is how we will conquer the Republicans. One good lay at a time.
Very well written! Hope to hear more about you two.
How? Shes been drinking, unable to give proper consent, thus its rape? Isnt that the liberal talking point?
God damn you are witty, sharp, and evocative! If I was a woman you’d get a date just on quality of writing alone!
Don’t let this story distract you from the fact that. political stances destroy relations when they don’t have to. It’s perfectly okay to be on the side that you are. Surprisingly many people (despite having a different political stance) agree on the same issues when brought up in conversation.
TL;DR – Repubs and Demos are not sports teams, now fuck away!