dreams: September 10, 1998

my sexual encounter with Bill Clinton

I'm at a big political event, and I need to go change my shirt before the speeches start. I'm only wearing my PJs (a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt). I go upstairs to find a bathroom away from the crowd of people downstairs. I'm in a huge, wealthy, official home. At the top of the curving staircase is a wide hallway that is silent and empty, with red carpeting on the floor and old portraits on the walls. I see a man walking down the hall toward the stairs. He looks political, wearing a polo shirt and khaki pants. When he gets closer I see that it's President Clinton. We acknowledge each other, shaking hands. I thank him (for?), telling him that I think he's great. He is very friendly, and we shake hands again. It looks like he just got prepped for the big important speech that he'll have to give in a few minutes. When he turns his head, his face looks all white (like a mime or clown) from the powder and makeup for the TV cameras. He starts to go down the stairs.

But then he stops and turns around to say goodbye again. I look down at him; we have a special moment, smiling and laughing together. He holds out his arms, and I step down to hug him (to say goodbye -- an extension of the handshake). The hug lasts a long time. We step back up to the hallway, walking over to a small table that's up against the wall. We are still embracing. I think about how he has been accused of sexual relations with other young women. I'm very attracted to Bill right now.

I'm leaning my behind onto the table, but we're still mostly standing. Our legs are interlaced together; his thigh muscles are strong and tight. He's squeezing my legs between his. I reach down and feel his legs and butt with my hands, stroking around front to find that he has a large, hard erection. He laughs when I touch him. We press our cheeks together, passionately kissing each others' faces and necks. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. The sex energy is on full blast. When I open my eyes, my face is up against his ear. I playfully lick his earlobe and then suck it and bite it. We're rocking together, rhythmically moving our pelvises to stimulate each other. His soft, big, pale hands are touching me all over.

Now we've turned around, and he's up against the table. His pants have been unzipped and pulled down. He has a huge, erect penis sticking out (at my eye level -- I'm kneeling?). "I think maybe we should stop now," he says. But I can't keep my hands off him. I reach out give him a couple strokes and then hard pumps with both my hands. He immediately comes, the white stuff exploding up into the air, splashing all over the hallway.

He has to go give the speech. I run to a bathroom to wash the evidence off of me (it splattered onto my face, hair, and clothes). I'm not going to tell anyone. Maybe he can't trust Monica to keep quiet, but the secret is safe with me. I find myself in a big bathroom that looks like it hasn't been used in years; it has a long clawfoot bathtub, dark plum-colored fabric wallcoverings, and dust all over the place. I look in the mirror. My hair is straight and long, past my shoulders. I look tired after pulling an all-nighter last night, not getting any sleep, and I feel insecure. Is Bill just such a sexual guy that he'll hook up with any young woman? I wash the cum off of me and change shirts.

I hear John's voice in my head saying that this Presidential team works differently than the ones in the past, not giving the Prez any prep guidance before speeches or debates -- he just spontaneously goes for it. I realize that I'm going to be late unless I hurry back downstairs.

- FIN -

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