The President swirled her way through the state dinner, in her usual style. Charming, ingratiating, and working every political angle in every conversation, like a Lyndon Johnson with tits. Whether they were guests and dignitaries meeting her for the first time, or Washington insiders that had known her for years, all were struck by her ability to capture and hold a room. It didn’t hurt, that on top of her intelligence, wit, and power, she was gorgeous.

Among the younger presidents at only forty-six, her Latina heritage helped to preserve her beauty and make her appear even younger. “Black don’t crack and brown don’t frown,” as her naughty Puerto Rican aunt had often told her. She was called “unpresidential” by her critics, who whined about her long hair, and her preference for stylish outfits. But, the polls indicated that most found her inspiring.

As President Perez made the rounds in her stunning red gown, she kept an eye on the handsome Marine guards standing at attention by the ballroom entrance. They were in their dress blues, swords and all. Yum, she thought to herself.

She had been into men in uniform since she was a teenager. Skinny, gangly, bespectacled Sylvia had the run of Colonel Perez’s Air Force base. She spent most nights under the covers jilling her clit, imagining one or more of the handsome fly boys banging her to orgasm. At seventeen, when she blossomed into a spectacular beauty, the flyboys were beating-off, thinking about her. On return visits from Yale, she had her pick of the studly litter. Among many other delightful episodes, she had taken a spectacular fucking on the wing of an F-18, just to say she had.

The President was familiar with both of the guards — very familiar. A couple of weeks prior, Corporal Jackson had fucked her by the Camp David pool until both feet cramped from her toes curling so much. She happily shuddered at the thought of the orgasm that had ripped through her, the fourth time he had dogged her on the chaise lounge. She had blown the handsome Lance Corporal Hernandez on Marine One just earlier that week. Mmmmm, that was some sweet cum, she thought, as she discussed the tax bill with the junior senator from Tennessee.

Per protocol, the Chinese Ambassador and his wife left first. The President and the First Gentleman left shortly thereafter. The President winked at Corporal Jackson as she passed. He and Lance Corporal Hernandez clicked heels and followed the Presidential couple. Sylvia nodded toward the armed marines and waved-off her Secret Service agents. Jeffrey, the First Gentleman, had long understood that the best way to hold on to Sylvia was to let her go. As the foursome approached the hallway to the East Wing, Jeffrey kissed Sylvia, and he headed to the Lincoln bedroom by himself.

“Boys,” the President said, taking the handsome marines by their arms, “I think I have some unfinished business in the Oval. I think I need an escort. Shall we?”

“Yes, Madam President!” They answered in unison.

Jackson had been in the Oval Office before; Hernandez had not. It seemed surprisingly small to him, compared to his expectations. The President pointed at her back, and Corporal Jackson dutifully tugged the zipper to her butt dimples. In just a few strides she proceeded to discard her spectacular gown until she was in bra and panties. By the time she had rounded the ornately carved Resolute Desk, those, too, were tossed onto the Kennedy-Blue carpet. She let out a most unpresidential squeal when she kicked off her heels and one bounced off the bust of Winston Churchill. Whoops, she thought.

“Marines!” The President shouted. “Let’s see those swords! And, I don’t mean the shiny ones.”

The young men began the arduous and lengthy process of peeling-off their endless layers of sashes, belts, jackets, shirts, stockings, and underwear. Sylvia sighed at the delay, but then realized she enjoyed the show. She crawled atop the Presidential desk and sat cross-legged as she played with her Executive Branch. The green leather blotter was quickly covered with her drippings as she took in the martial beefcake in front of her.

At last, their Marine uniforms were replaced by the uniform of a naked youth. Sylvia found herself salivating at the sight of their muscled shoulders, pecs, and abs. She was captivated most of all by their delicious cocks, which stood at weeping attention.

The President hopped-off the desk and sauntered seductively to the Presidential seal in the center of the room. She knelt atop the Eagle and beckoned the marines with a salacious smile.

“Mmmmm.” Sylvia moaned as she took their turbid cocks in hand. Jackson was circumcised, and quite thick. Hernandez was uncut and quite long. She licked up the long stream of precum running down Hernandez’s angled cock. My god, this guy must live on pineapple juice and bananas, she thought as she enjoyed his rich sweetness. She switched to Jackson. A thick dollop hung precariously from his tip. Sylvia scooped it up with her curled, long tongue. This guy must be all oysters and buttermilk, she smiled to herself as she savored his briny creaminess.

The President alternated between the beautiful cocks. Jackson's arched cock was so hard, and the head was so thick, that it was difficult to get him very deep in her throat. So, she concentrated on his fat head, teasing it with her devilish tongue until she induced the desperate moan she was seeking. Hernandez was a natural throat fit, and she impressed the boy by nearly taking his full length. She then focused on their ball sacs as she jerked them simultaneously. Fuck, I love young balls, she thought as she savored their fragrant sacs.

She backed-off and smiled up at her valiant soldiers. She extended her arms and they pulled her to her feet. She kissed each passionately, then turned and walked to her desk. She bent at the waist and looked over her shoulder.

“Give me those rifles, boys,” the President ordered.

They were on her in like a speeding bullet. Jackson was first, driving his fat rod into Sylvia’s wet puss with a single, hungry thrust.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “That’s it, babies, fuck your President good and hard.”

The marines alternated, with each taking a dozen or so strokes while the other beat-off. Sylvia relished the feeling of being spread open by these young studs. She had to place their hands on her hair, and tits, and she even had to spank her own ass, until the jugheads understood that she wanted it a little rough. They took to the mission readily once they understood.

The President brought herself to the edge multiple times. She didn’t want it to end. But, the Armed Forces Sub-Committee Chair would be arriving for breakfast at nine sharp. It was sadly for the best that she bring the evening to a close. She stepped away from her rigid guards and crawled atop the Resolute desk. She aimed the Presidential pussy at Lafayette Park and lay back to offer her open mouth.

Hernandez ran his cock slowly under the President’s outstretched tongue. Sylvia savored the flavor of her own juice as her throat was filled. After a brief gag, she steadied herself with presidential steel and took his well-regulated thrusts with pornstar aplomb. Meanwhile, Jackson was splitting her open with his thick staff. He banged her pulsing asshole with his balls, and her engorged clit with his groin, with each deep thrust. The President settled into the rhythm of a truly wonderful spit roasting.

Sylvia’s orgasm began shortly thereafter. Struggling for a full breath somehow accelerated her cumming, as she flushed with adrenaline. The marines could feel it. Her contractions turned to full-on spasms, and they both lost it. Hernandez pulled out and jerked his cock furiously as Jackson hammered the President through a final wave. Then Jackson, too, pulled out, and the two soldiers sprayed Sylvia’s neck, tits, and taut tummy with gobs of friendly fire.

After waiting a few moments to catch her breath, the President raised herself from her reclined position. She ran a finger through the spunk puddle on her left tit and raised it to her lips.

“Lance Corporal, be a love, and get me some tissues from the side office, would you? And, Corporal, could you please find another one of these?” She said, raising a black sling-back shoe, for his reference.

Though a bit disheveled, Sylvia has pulled her clothes back on before the boys had even rounded-up all their paraphernalia. Over the sound of clanking swords, Sylvia said, “Marines, you served your President well! Your country thanks you. I think it best that I find my way back to the East Wing on my own. You guys can navigate your way out, right?”

The young men nodded vigorously, with happy, satisfied grins. Sylvia sashayed across the Oval Office but suddenly turned at the oak threshold.

“Corporal Jackson. Do you think you could find a place for some lube in one of those many pockets of yours? There’s another state dinner in three weeks. I’ll be requesting you both,” she said with a wink.