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I called the girls to let them know I was OK but may be late getting home. The good news was that Ching Lee and Takeo were home and being adored by all.The media that had access were filling the corridors and halls looking for anyone who was willing to make any kind of statement to them.I went to the committee room to testify before I went back to the White House. I expected it to be empty but it was not; no luck getting out of that today.I testified for thirty minutes and then left, taking the secure exit and limo back to the White House.I watched the news video again, this time with the White House security chief of staff; he and I had long discussions. We were nearly done when ZNN went live back to the scene to update the report on the conditions of those involved in the fight.Six were dead, twenty three injured in the protesters, with fifty more arrested. There were four Capital police seriously injured and two Secret Service agents were in stable condition with me having an arm. . ooohhhhhh... deeper... oh fuck.... Mmmmppphhhh... fuck me... fuck me... ooohhhhhh..."... Debbie's gasps and screams were out of control as her body was wracked with a continuous series of orgasm. My fingers were slimy with pussy juice that poured from her cunt and dripped down my balls. My throbbing meat pushed deep into her belly and slammed up against her cervix each time she impaled herself.Her tight pussy twitched and squeezed my cock as she rode me. Her screams were out of control. Filth continued to spill from her mouth. My middle finger found the rim of her asshole and easily pushed inside. I buried it to the knuckle and dug it around inside as my cock continued to pound her pussy."Yeah... that's it... shove your finger up my ass... ooohhhhh fuuuuccckkkk... use another finger... yes... aaaaahhhhhhhh..."Her fingers clawed at the skin on my neck and dug into my scalp. Her heels dug into the cheeks of my ass. My cock knifed up into her belly each time she slammed her cunt down.
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It was everywhere. She was the biggest hit of the eighties, and I was about to meet her. My stomach was fluttering as we rode the elevator up to the tenth floor. “Coming up,” the security guard said into the microphone connected to his headset. I hoped I looked the part. The last rock show I’d been to was Kenny Loggins maybe ten years earlier, back when I was still with Jerry, and he played a small club downtown. Cindee had just played the local hockey arena to some twelve thousand people. I’d worn tight jeans, purple silk blouse and black leather boots. I’d feathered my hair back and done my makeup in the current style. I felt like a million bucks, but someone as fashionable and trendy as Cindee would probably not think too much of it. I still looked like a mom of two out for a night on the town. Whatever, it was the rockin-est thing I had in my wardrobe. The elevator opened and the security guard told me which room to go to, and to have a good time. I didn’t know what to expect.

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